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Beneath a Heart of Darkness	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 4657 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
I hope these last few chapters haven't been too boring. I think it is important not to gloss over the horror of Tom's rape, and to adequately explain his range of emotions as he attempts to come to terms with the assault.
In peace,
OpenPage x

Five days later
Dark, arcus clouds rolled over the city, the fast-moving formations blocking out the sun, adding to the gloomy atmosphere of Tom’s room. Moments later, a blue-white flash of lightning split the leaden sky, followed by a low rumble of distant thunder. The impending storm perfectly fit Tom’s melancholy mood, and turning away from the window, he packed the last of his belongings in a carrier bag and placed it on the bed.
The day after his admittance, Penhall had thoughtfully brought in clothing and toiletries, but Tom had stubbornly refused to see his friend, or anyone else, including Fuller. He was not ready to face the barrage of questions he knew they would ask, and because he hadn’t spoken to Booker since his arrival at the hospital, he had no idea how much they knew about his assault. If Dennis had divulged the whole story, Tom knew he could not cope with his friends’ pitying looks, and if the dark-haired officer had kept his silence, he did not know how to explain his hospitalization. It was easier to lock himself away, devoid of contact from those he loved, including his mother. He almost wished he could walk out of the hospital and start over somewhere new, where nobody knew him, but he understood the fragility of his state of mind well enough to know it would be a bad idea. Without at least the pretense of a normal life, it would be too easy to pick up a razor, slice the blade across his wrists, and allow his soul to leak slowly from his veins. Although he found himself increasingly drawn toward the darkness, there was still a small spark keeping the will to live burning deep inside him. But the flame was dimming with each passing day, and he wondered how long it would take before apathy extinguished it completely, and he would lose the ability to keep going.
With a sigh, he plucked his bandana from the top of the bag and lightly fingered the worn material. For some inexplicable reason, Penhall had brought him his ‘McQuaid’ clothes, and he pondered the significance of the gesture. That part of his life now seemed ridiculously trivial and juvenile in comparison to what he had endured at the hands of the Pi Taus, and he wondered if he would ever again find the strength to draw on the inner light needed to portray a teenager convincingly. He felt haggard, old beyond his years, and his outlook on life was jaded. In the space of an hour, seven men had violently stripped him not only of his dignity but his trust and altruism, leaving his heart shriveled and blackened. He was an emotionless automaton; he walked, talked, ate and did everything his doctor asked him. But through it all he felt nothing; no anguish, no rage, no malevolence. The emotional dial in his brain had switched to self-loathing, and that was the only emotion he now felt. He hated every aspect of his body, and he had taken to picking and scratching at the skin on his arms. Up until now he had managed to keep the sores hidden from the doctors and nurses. He knew how to play the game; show them what they wanted to see and they left you in peace. It was that simple. If they knew the full extent of his psychological breakdown, he was certain they would not have agreed to release him. But he kept his newfound compulsive eccentricities to himself. When he took his first scalding hot shower, he had scrubbed himself raw. However, none of the staff knew he now stood under the cascading water without ever washing himself because the idea of touching his naked flesh repulsed him. They had no clue he hung a towel over the mirror in the bathroom so he wouldn’t catch sight of his reflection. These were his dirty little secrets, and if he could keep up the charade for just a little while longer, he could make his escape and take refuge behind the locked door of his home. Then, and only then, would he feel safe enough to drop the act and withdraw into the silence of his unsound mind.
A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts, and lifting his head, he saw Nurse Amy James standing in the open doorway. He shoved the bandana back in his bag and flashed her a fake smile. This was the moment he had waited for; the moment when he could walk from the hospital and no longer feel compelled to pretend he was A-Okay. In other words, he would finally have the luxury to shut down.
Amy returned a strained smile, her expression one of concern. “Um, Tom. Officer Penhall’s here again and… well, he says he’s not leaving until he sees you.”
“Fuck!” Tom thought. “I was so close to escaping, and now Penhall’s screwed it all up. Typical!” But outwardly, he remained a picture of calm. “Tell him I’ve already left,” he replied, his eyes not quite meeting Amy’s worried gaze.
“Sorry,” Amy apologized, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. “I already let slip you were still here.”
Tom struggled to maintain his placid exterior, and his eyes blinked rapidly in confusion. “Why would you say that?” he asked, his voice rising in agitation. “You know I don't want to see anyone.”
“I-I know,” Amy stammered, mentally cursing herself for the innocent faux pas. “I thought he was your ride.”
Perspiration dampened Tom’s palms, and he nervously wiped them on the seat of his jeans. The belief he was going home had left him ill-prepared for a meeting with his best friend, and panic constricted his throat, the sudden deluge of emotion threatening to reduce him to tears. But abandoning his composure now would be counterproductive. He was so close to going home he could almost taste his freedom, and he was well aware the next few minutes would be crucial. If he broke down, there was a high probability his doctor would keep him in the hospital, but if he behaved normally and received his friend with open arms, he could take flight and not have to deal with anyone ever again.
Exhaling a heavy sigh, he plastered a smile on his face. “I guess it’ll save me a cab fare. Send him in.”
Relieved by Tom’s reaction, Amy hurried from the room. Minutes later, Penhall walked in the door, a crushed box of chocolates held in one hand, a bunch of wilting flowers in the other. He stopped just inside the doorway, his dark, expressive eyes roving over Tom’s body, searching for any sign of injury. When he saw no visible cuts or bruises, his brow knitted into a frown of confusion. His friend appeared fine; a little pale and gaunt, but otherwise healthy. He had expected to walk in and see the young officer severely beaten, or at the very least, sporting a few abrasions. But there was nothing to indicate he had suffered an assault of any kind that would warrant him spending five days in the hospital. For Penhall, it was a perplexing situation, and not known for his tact he blurted out the first words that popped into his head. “You don’t look hurt.”
Although shocked by the statement, Tom managed to maintain an aura of calm, and arching his eyebrow, his mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “Don’t I?”
Puzzled by the acerbic tone of Tom’s question, Doug stepped forward and laid the chocolates and flowers on the bed while studying his friend’s pale face through narrowed eyes. “What’s going on, Tommy?”
Tom bared his teeth, his grin transforming into an amused sneer. “Nothing’s going on. As you can see, I’m fine.”
Concern furrowed Doug’s brow a little deeper. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Hanson. Something’s up, so why don’t you cut the act and tell me what happened.”
A cold shiver ran down the length of Tom’s spine. He needed to stay focused and not reveal the true nature of his injuries. Penhall was his best friend, they were as close as brothers, and if his partner looked hard enough, he would see straight through his calculated charade, setting in motion cataclysmic events.
It took a moment of meditative thought, but Tom finally managed to relax his features into a genuine smile. “I’m fine,” he reiterated softly. “It was just a bump on the head… you know, like Booker. I was disoriented, so they kept me in for tests. But the scans showed no damage, so…”
His voice trailed off, and he waited to see if Penhall had bought his lie. Several long, painful seconds passed before Doug’s face split into a relieved grin. “Jesus, Hanson,” he exhaled with a laugh. “You had me so fucking worried. Why did you say you didn’t want any visitors? We could have come and cheered you up. You know, a little poker, a dirty magazine or two. It must have been as boring as hell in here.”
Now he had his head together, Tom found it easy to fall into character and give Penhall the reassurance he so desperately sought. “Sorry,” he apologized, his trademark tilting grin once again gracing his lips. “I guess I wasn’t feeling myself. But they’re discharging me, so I must be okay, right?”
For a moment, Penhall appeared convinced, but his frown suddenly returned, and he gazed at Tom in confusion. “But if it was only a concussion, why did Booker go all secret squirrel and refuse to tell us anything? He got himself in a whole heap of trouble for nothing.”
“Booker's in trouble?” Tom asked. Although genuinely concerned about the dark-haired officer, by asking the question, he also managed to deflect the focus away from Doug’s initial query.
Penhall shrugged his shoulders. “Kinda. Fuller suspended him for a week.”
“Shit,” Tom muttered. By asking Dennis to keep his secret, he had never meant to cause him any undue conflict or distress. But it appeared his desperation had precipitated both, and in doing so, he had compromised the young officer’s integrity. It was just another thing to add to his growing discomfort. By not socializing, it was easy to keep his emotions pushed to the deepest recesses of his soul. But after only a few minutes with Doug, he found his despair returning, and he wished he could block out the world and all its painful vibrations forever.
Sensing Tom was somehow feeling guilty for Booker's foolhardiness, Doug turned the conversation back around. “Sooo, you're okay, right?”
Distracted by his growing misery, Tom nodded his head. “Yeah, I'm—”
“THE MCQUAID BROTHERS ARE BACK... HEH!” Penhall cried out, the ridiculous catchphrase pulling Tom from his reverie and making him cringe. The last thing on his mind was returning to Jump Street, and the thought of working undercover again had his heart racing in panic. Vulnerability had never been a part of his nature, but all that changed the moment a Pi Tau snapped the handcuffs around his wrists. He now felt like a target, a sitting duck, and he wondered if he would ever feel comfortable around people again. It was an agonizing thought and for a fraction of a second, he seriously considered giving in to the darkness that constantly threatened to claim his damaged mind.
Unaware of his friend’s inner turmoil, Penhall pulled him into a bear hug and squeezed him tight. “I missed you, buddy.”
With his body constricted, Tom could feel his hysteria rising. He had become so adept at inhibiting his emotions, the unexpected anxiety threatened to engulf him, and his only escape was to jerk violently free from Penhall’s hold.
Hurt immediately filled Doug’s soft brown eyes, and he took a step back. “Sorry,” the officer mumbled, his hand rubbing furiously at his chin. “I just—”
“Can you drive me home?” Tom interrupted. He was struggling to keep up the deception, and he longed for the solitude of his apartment… and a drink. He was now in desperate need of a drink.
Surprised by Hanson’s sudden change in attitude, Penhall managed a small smile. “Sure, Tommy, I’d be happy—”
“Thanks,” Tom interjected quickly, and ignoring the flowers and chocolates, he picked up his bag and headed out the door.
- 15
- 16
- 17
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Beneath a Heart of Darkness