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On the Wings of Maybe	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1468 -:- 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
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The yellow cab pulled up outside Hanson’s apartment building and the driver turned in his seat. “That’ll be eighteen fifty,” he informed his passengers in a bored voice.
Tom looked up in surprise. “Aren’t you going home?” he asked Penhall quietly.
Doug paid the driver and shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be on your own,” he replied in a soft voice. “We’ll order some pizza and we can talk, or not talk, whatever you want.”
“I want to be alone,” Tom muttered. “I’m tired and all I want to do is take a hot shower and go to bed.”
“Then I’ll sleep on the couch,” Doug responded cheerfully.
Tom sighed wearily, “Doug, you don’t have to babysit me, I’m fine. Now go home and I’ll see you at the Chapel in the morning.”
"C'mon fellas, time is money," the driver intervened in a loud voice.
Penhall studied Tom’s pale face for a moment before replying. “Okay Hanson, but if you need to talk—”
“I’ll call you,” Hanson murmured. Climbing out of the car, he closed the door and leaning in through the open window, he managed a small smile. “Thanks… you know, for finding us.”
Doug’s smile did not quite meet his eyes. “You’re welcome buddy.”
As he watched the cab drive away, Tom felt his composure falter and he stifled a sob. The nurses had prevented him from seeing Dennis because he was not family. Also, he could not reveal his true emotions to his best friend or his captain because neither knew of his deep feelings for the man lying in ICU. Everything was a lie. He had to keep his emotions in check and pretend that Booker was just a colleague, a friend whose welfare he was concerned about and nothing more. But in reality, he was falling apart. His lover was lying in hospital having suffered a stroke and he could not even see him and tell him he loved him. He was not privy to his medical condition and he had no idea if he was awake or whether or not the stroke had caused any physical damage. It was a living nightmare and he now wished he had stood his ground and prevented Dennis from entering the house. However, deep down, he knew that he was not to blame. Booker was headstrong and no one could stop him from doing anything he set his mind to do.
Wiping a hand across his watery eyes, Tom turned and walked slowly into his building. He had not lied to Penhall, all he wanted was a hot shower and sleep because only then did he have any hope of blocking out the pain that was shattering his heart.
**
The following morning
Awakening from a troubled sleep, Tom glanced at the clock and let out a sigh. He had only managed a few fitful hours of slumber and he felt emotionally exhausted. He knew Fuller expected him at the Chapel first thing so he could type up his account of what had happened at the abandoned house, but he had other ideas. He needed to see Booker and come hell or high water, he was going to see him.
After a quick shower and shave, he forwent breakfast and drove straight to the hospital. The smell of antiseptic churned his stomach and he fought to control the urge to vomit as he rode the elevator up to the ICU. Stepping out into the corridor, a nurse immediately intercepted him and asked whom he was there to see. Unable to say the words I’m Dennis’ boyfriend, he explained that he was Booker’s police partner but the admission carried no weight. “I’m sorry sir,” the nurse replied with a shake of her head. “Family only in ICU.”
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to keep his voice calm. “Is it okay if I just sit outside in the corridor for awhile?”
The nurse hesitated for a moment before nodding her head. “But if the family complains, you’ll have to leave.”
“Fine,” Tom muttered and taking a seat in one of the red plastic chairs that lined the corridor, he slouched down and let out a sigh of frustration. Minutes slowly passed into hours and he completely forgot that he should have reported for work. His eyes occasionally flittered towards the open doorway of the Intensive Care Unit but all he could see was the foot of a bed. Several nurses continuously scurried in and out, their soft-soled shoes squeaking on the polished floor and an occasional alarm sounded, which increased the hurried footsteps. Four hours passed and just as he was about to leave, he saw a middle-aged woman exit the lift.
There was no mistaking the dark penetrating eyes and jet-black hair and he quickly stood up and wiped the palm of his hand on his jeans. When the woman was a few feet away from him, he stepped out in front of her and extended his hand. “Mrs. Booker?”
Joyce Booker ignored the hand in front of her and stared at Tom in surprise, her dark eyes suspicious. “Can I help you?” she asked in a tense voice.
Feeling foolish, Tom lowered his hand and his mouth twitched nervously. “I’m Tom, Tom Hanson. I work with Dennis.”
Dennis’ mom hesitated for a moment before offering her hand. “Oh, so you’re the Tom we keep hearing about.”
A pink blush stained Tom’s cheeks as they briefly shook hands. Although he felt uncomfortable, it was a relief not to have to explain himself to Dennis’ mother. “So I guess Dennis told you about—”
“Yes,” Joyce interrupted in a tired voice, “he did. Now is there something I can help you with?”
Taken aback by her dismissive manner, Tom found himself faltering. “I um… I just… I mean… I haven’t been able to see him and I was hoping—”
“You want to see him?” Joyce asked in a flat voice. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Tom’s blush deepened. “Yes,” he mumbled awkwardly. “I just want to know if he’s all right.”
Joyce’s mouth set in a hard line. “He’s had a stroke Officer Hanson, so no, he’s not all right and I’m sorry, but this is a time for family only. Denny’s been through a lot and he needs his rest.”
It took several seconds for Joyce’s words to impact on Tom’s brain. “You’re telling me I can’t see him?” he asked in a disbelieving voice. “Why would you do that?” It was then that he saw a flash of sadness in Joyce’s eyes and his voice lowered to a whisper. “Doesn’t he want to see me?”
“I’m sorry,” Joyce muttered, unable to meet Tom’s incredulous stare. “He’s asked that no one visit him, at least for the moment.”
Tom’s eyes filled with tears. “He’s awake? He’s talking?”
Joyce’s eyes mirrored Tom’s pain. “He’s communicating, in a manner of speaking but he’s not…” she paused for a moment and taking a deep breath, she spoke in a firm voice, “I’m sorry Tom, but that’s all I’m prepared to say.”
As she turned and walked towards the ICU, Tom grasped at her sleeve. “Please! Tell him I was here… tell him I love him!”
But he received no answer to his impassioned plea and he watched in despair as Joyce pulled free of his hold and disappeared from sight.
**
When Tom arrived at the Chapel, Fuller immediately summoned him into his office. He closed the door behind him and waited for the shouting to begin but he was surprised when his captain placed a comforting arm around his shoulders. The gesture was so unexpected that his eyes filled with tears and he choked back a sob. Fuller quickly guided him to a chair and they both sat down. Tom wiped at his eyes and offered his superior a watery smile. “Sorry.”
Fuller shook his head. “No need to apologize Hanson. Did you get any sleep?”
Tom shook his head. “Not really.” He paused for a moment before asking what was foremost on his mind. “Coach, have you heard any news on Booker’s condition?”
A deep frown creased Fuller’s brow. “The family has requested only minimal information be released. He’s awake but that’s all they’ll tell me.”
“How can they do that?” Tom exclaimed in frustration. “We’ve got a right to know how he is!”
Fuller sighed. “We may find out more once the Commissioner has spoken to the family but until then, I’m afraid we’re in the dark.” A long silence hung in the air and as he gazed at Tom’s morose expression, he cleared his throat. “How about some good news. Jarrod’s agreed to give evidence against his cousin. He’ll testify that Robbie Watkins told him he had a plan to ‘take you out’ because you and Booker had threatened to encroach on his drug trade. Also, he’s given a statement confirming that it was his uncle who locked you in the basement so on that information, Terrance Watkins has been arrested and charged with false imprisonment.”
When Tom’s only reaction to the statement was a wan smile, he placed a hand on his arm. “Go home Hanson, take a few days off and get your head straight.”
Tom did not argue. He did not want to be at work, he wanted to be at the hospital but he could not tell his captain that because he feared he would try and talk him out of it. So instead, he forced a smile and stood up. “Yeah, I think I need to catch up on some sleep,” he lied.
Fuller nodded but as he silently watched Tom leave the room, he felt a moment of unease.
**
Bright sunlight shone through the windshield and Tom pulled down the sun visor and rubbed at the pain that stabbed at his temples. He had not eaten in well over forty-eight hours and he was beginning to feel lightheaded. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a fast food outlet and pulling into the drive-thru, he ordered a burger, fries and coke. When the monosyllabic attendant handed him his food, the greasy smell made him gag but he managed to force down the acidic bile that rose in his throat and parking his Mustang, he opened the brown paper bag. Once again, the smell assaulted his senses but this time he could not control his stomach and opening the car door, he vomited watery liquid onto the asphalt. His face burned red and his vision blurred as he wiped a trembling hand over his mouth. He knew he was close to passing out and that he should not be driving but his urge to be near Booker was overwhelming. Closing the door, he stared at the unappetizing burger sitting on the passenger seat. He had no choice, he had to eat and he had to keep it down.
Picking up the bun, he nibbled at the edges. His stomach lurched but he managed to overcome his need to vomit. He washed each tiny morsel down with a swig of cola and as the sugar entered his bloodstream, he gradually began to feel better. It took him thirty minutes to finish his meal but by the time he had swallowed the last mouthful, his hands were steady and his headache was all but gone.
He screwed the wrappers into a ball and tossed them into a nearby trashcan. Now that he had a stomach full of food, he felt ready to continue his journey to the hospital. It was his hope that he would have a second chance to speak to Dennis’ mother. He had been surprised at the coldness she had shown towards him, especially after Dennis had told him that his parents were supportive of his bisexuality. However, that was not the impression Tom had been left with after speaking to Joyce Booker. He had the distinct feeling that she was none too thrilled to have come face to face with her son’s lover and he wondered how many boyfriends Dennis had actually introduced to his parents.
Pushing the thought aside, he turned the key in the ignition and pulled out into the afternoon traffic
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On the Wings of Maybe