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Then As It Was, Then Again It Will Be	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1347 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- 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
- 17
- 18
- 19
Sitting at a table in the courtyard of La Cantina, Tom tipped back his head and closing his eyes he allowed the sun to beat down onto his upturned face. He had not realized how much he missed the warmth. He could not remember when he had last felt more relaxed, apart from when he and Booker found pleasure in each other’s bodies. Opening his eyes, he perused the crowd as he waited for Booker to return from ordering their meals. He carefully picked up his glass of water and just as he was about to take a sip, his eyes settled on a man in a red shirt sitting at a table at a café across the road. The color drained from his face as the tumbler slipped from his fingers and shattered onto the table, spraying broken glass and liquid over the plastic tablecloth and onto his t-shirt.
Dennis walked out of the restaurant just as the glass slipped from Tom’s fingers. At first, he thought it was because Hanson was not used to holding onto a glass but he quickly noticed the tension in Tom’s body and hurried over to their table. Squatting down he immediately saw the terror on Hanson’s face and his heart turned cold. “Tommy! What is it?”
Tom continued to stare, his eyes transfixed on the man in the red shirt. Booker followed his gaze. The man was about thirty and possibly of Hispanic descent. It was then that Dennis felt adrenalin course through his body. “Oh my God Tom, is that—”
“Th-th-th-that’s h-h-h-him!” Hanson stuttered, his face contorting from the effort.
Booker pulled Tom from the chair and whilst keeping an eye on the man, he ushered Hanson into the restaurant. Finding a waitress that he knew he briefly explained the situation and asked her if he could use the phone whilst she looked after Tom. She readily agreed but as she attempted to help Tom to a table, his legs gave way. Sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his drawn up knees, Tom rhythmically rocked back and forth, as his eyes stared sightlessly into space.
“Dennis!” Sandra called out in a panic, suddenly aware that other customer’s were beginning to point and stare.
“Stay with him!” Booker yelled back as he slammed down the phone and headed back outside. Within minutes, the sound of sirens split through the still, spring air and two marked police cars screeched to a halt outside the restaurant. Penhall and Ioki jumped from the back of one vehicle and Booker quickly pointed across the street. Witnessing the commotion, the man in the red shirt stood up nervously. As the officers crossed the street, his head turned frantically from side to side before he bolted down the esplanade. Dennis, Doug and Harry immediately ran after him, Penhall yelling out for the man to stop. Knowing the area well, Booker took off down a narrow side alley in the hope of cutting the man off. His diversion paid off as he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Leaping forward, he tackled the man to the ground with a thud. The man cried out in pain as Booker began to pummel him.
“You SON-OF-A-BITCH!” Dennis screamed as he slammed his fist into the man’s jaw.
Arriving moments later, Harry yelled, “BOOKER, NO!” before grabbing Dennis by the waist and pulling him away.
“HE RAPED HIM! THAT BASTARD RAPED MY TOMMY!” Booker shrieked hysterically, tears pouring down his face as he struggled against Harry’s grip.
Pushing him backwards, Ioki stared at him angrily. “You don’t know that! For God’s sake Booker, we only have Tom’s word for it and let’s face it, given his condition that isn’t exactly a trustworthy ID.”
“His condition?” Booker spat back angrily, as he watched Penhall read the man his rights whilst placing handcuffs around his wrists. “What the hell do you know about Tom? You and Hoffs turned you backs on him months ago, so don’t you lecture me about his fucking condition!”
A uniformed officer stepped forward and taking custody of the bloodied suspect, he escorted him back to the police car. Hearing raised voices, Doug turned around to see Booker and Ioki screaming crazily at each other. “Whoa,” he said as he moved his body between the two men. “This isn’t helping.”
Harry turned away and followed the officer across the road. As Booker’s mind began to clear, he suddenly remembered Hanson. “Tommy!” he cried out anxiously before turning and running across the busy street. Entering the café, he saw that many of the patrons had left. Sandra sat on the floor, her body cradling a distraught Tom. Dropping to the ground, he pulled Tom into his arms. “It’s okay, we’ve got him Tommy, we’ve got him.”
Looking up, Tom’s brown eyes exuded pain. “I w-w-want t-t-to g-g-go h-h-home,” he sobbed as he clutched at Booker’s shirt.
As Penhall entered the restaurant, Booker spoke, his voice flat. “I’m taking him back to the apartment.”
Squatting down, Doug’s eyes softened as he laid a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Hey Tommy, how’d you feel about coming back to Jump Street for awhile. We can have a chat about what’s happened.”
Standing up, Booker lifted Tom to his feet. “We’re going home,” he stated again frostily, his eyes daring Penhall to challenge him on his decision.
Penhall lumbered to his feet and putting a hand on Booker’s arm, he spoke quietly. “Damn it Dennis, you know the protocol, we need to interview him.”
“Look at him!” Dennis snapped back. “Does he look like he’s in any state to be interviewed?”
With a resigned sigh, Penhall nodded. “Okay, take him home, I’ll interview him there.”
“Give me a couple of hours,” Booker commanded before wrapping his arm protectively around Hanson’s shoulder and walking him from the café.
**
Tom lay on the bed, his body curled into the fetal position. He stared silently ahead, seemingly unaware of Booker or his surroundings. Dennis had tried speaking to him but he received no response that Tom had heard a word of what he said. Eventually he settled on physical comfort and sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently stroked Hanson hair.
Hearing Penhall enter the apartment, he leaned over and whispered to Tom that he would be back soon. Hanson gave no sign of having heard and with a sigh, Dennis stood up and left the room.
Doug looked exhausted. He walked into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator, he reached in and grabbed a beer. He held it for a moment before reconsidering and returning it to the shelf. Closing the refrigerator door, he turned back to Booker. “How is he?”
Dennis ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “I don’t know, he’s stopped crying but he’s not talking. Maybe we should call Doctor Madden.”
Penhall sank onto the couch. “Maybe,” he replied. “Let’s give it a couple of hours first.” Patting the seat next to him, he motioned for Dennis to sit down. “I’ve got some information but you’ve got to promise me you’ll stay calm.”
“I’ll try,” Dennis said through gritted teeth. “But it’s not easy.”
Happy with Booker’s response, Penhall continued. “The man’s name is Emilio Vargas. He’s thirty-three years old and a painter by trade.”
Doug waited for a reaction but Booker remained silent as he picked at his fingernails. Clearing his throat, Penhall continued. “He has a record, mostly petty crime but a couple of interesting facts came up. One of his accomplices is a man named James Winton.”
“So?” Booker asked, the name meaning nothing to him.
Doug paused for a moment before adding, “We dug a little deeper and it appears that on his last arrest, James Winton’s bail was paid by a Jake Wetherall.”
Booker’s heart skipped a beat. “Are you serious?” he whispered.
“Dead serious,” Penhall replied. “Not only that, Vargas has a white van registered in his name.”
“We’ve got em,” Dennis murmured, tears springing to his eyes. As he turned to question Penhall further, bile suddenly rose in his throat. Jumping to his feet, he only just managed to make it to the bathroom before he vomited into the toilet bowl. As he retched noisily, he heard Doug enter and after a few moments, he felt a cool, damp cloth press against the back of his neck. The tears he had managed to contain just minutes earlier spilled from his eyes. When his stomach was empty, he closed the lid and flushed the toilet. Standing up, he turned on the tap and rinsed his mouth and face before turning back to Penhall, who was patiently leaning against the wall.
“We can make this stick right?” Dennis asked, his voice sounding shaky to his own ears.
“It’s early days Booker,” Penhall replied. “But yeah, it’s looking good. The Captain at the Thirteenth Precinct has organised a warrant for the van and Vargas is being interviewed as we speak. We should know more by morning.”
As they exited the bathroom, they saw Tom standing in the living room, his face pale but composed. “T-tell me wh-what’s g-going on,” he whispered.
Stepping forward, Penhall led Hanson over to the couch. Once he was seated, he sat down beside him and taking a deep breath, he replied. “I’ll tell you everything Tommy but I’m going to need to ask you some questions too, is that okay?”
Searching Booker’s face for reassurance Tom nodded. “Wh-whatever you n-need,” he said. “L-let’s n-nail these b-bastards.”
- 17
- 18
- 19
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Then As It Was, Then Again It Will Be