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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
- 18
- 19
- 20
Due to the emotional distress I am dealing with following the unexpected passing of my dear mum, "Beneath a Heart of Darkness" will only be updated when I feel the desire to write. Thanks for your understanding.
In peace,
OpenPage x

Booker stood concealed behind a tree, eagerly watching the busy comings and goings of Holbrook College’s students and faculty. He had left Tom sleeping, a note propped next to the lamp on the bedside table explaining his absence and promising to return in a few hours. It was better his friend knew nothing of his mission, all it would do is drag up unwanted memories. He was perfectly capable of going it alone, and if he were successful, then hopefully, Tom would finally begin the long, slow road toward recovery.
A grin passed over his lips when he spotted his target, and checking the coast was clear from unwanted prying eyes, he stepped out from the shadows of the majestic elm. “Hey, Harold.”
Surprise registered on Horshack’s face, quickly followed by a look of panic, and grabbing Booker by the wrist, he pulled him back behind the tree. “What are you doing here?” he hissed, his eyes flitting anxiously from side to side. “Are you trying to get me beaten to a bloody pulp?”
Booker’s expression turned serious. “Is someone threatening you?”
“Only every Pi Tau on campus,” Harold replied in a frightened whisper. “I never went back to the frat house after I helped you escape, and they didn’t take it well. Not only did I let you guys go, but I also refused to take part in the final initiation ceremony; something that has never happened since the Pi Tau Fraternity was founded in 1847. I’m a liability because I’m not bound by the honor code, and I know what happened in that basement… I know what they did to Harris.”
“Hanson,” Booker corrected softly, and reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his badge. “Don’t you remember Tom telling you his real name? We’re undercover cops, Harold. Tom’s last name is Hanson, not Harris and mine’s Booker.”
Horshack rubbed a trembling hand over his mouth. “Jesus,” he muttered against his fingers. “Do the Pi Taus know?”
A grim expression furrowed Booker’s brow. “I hope not, ‘cause if they do, I won't have the element of surprise on my side.”
“Surprise?” Harold queried in a hopeful voice, his eyes growing wide with excitement. “Does that mean you're gonna go after them and prosecute them?”
With a wry smile, Booker shook his head. “Not exactly. But if everything goes to plan, hopefully, I can give Tom his life back.”
**
After convincing Horshack to drive with him to a café twenty miles south of the campus, where they were sure to be safe from inquisitive eyes, Booker laid out his plan—or as much of it as he thought prudent. “I need the name of the Pi Tau Keymaster. You can get it for me, right?”
Shocked by the request, Harold’s coffee cup shook violently, spilling hot liquid over his fingers. With a yelp, he placed the cup back on the plastic checkered tablecloth and wiped his hand on the leg of his baggy jeans. “Why would you ask me that?” he exclaimed in a dramatic, conspiratorial whisper loud enough to be heard two tables away. “I told you, I’m not a Pi Tau, and even if I were, only an Active, who has paid his dues, knows that information.”
“Or a respected alumnus,” Booker replied with an engaging smile. “And you, Harold, happen to be related to not one, but two.”
As the meaning of Booker’s request became apparent, Horshack’s pale, freckled face turned several shades whiter. “You want me to ask my father?” he gulped, the very idea sending a shiver of foreboding down his spine. “Are you crazy?”
Unperturbed by the young freshman’s reluctance, Booker ignored Harold’s last question. Instead, he continued to pressure the vulnerable student. “Or you could ask your grandfather, whichever you feel most comfortable talking to.”
When Horshack remained silent, Booker sensed he needed to up the ante, and tilting his head, his beseeching brown eyes glowed softly under the shadow of his long, dark lashes. “If you won’t do it for me, do it for Tom,” he murmured, laying heavy emphasis on the sadness in his voice. He felt like a complete bastard, but where Tom was concerned, he was prepared to stoop to the lowest levels of emotional manipulation to get a result.
The vision of Tom's terrified face still haunted Harold. Night and day, the gut-wrenching memory of the young officer's rape played over in his head, leaving him nauseous and anxious. Michael McCarter had promised him he would suffer the same fate if he dared to divulge the secrets of the Pi Tau’s final ritual, and he had taken the threat of violence extremely seriously. However, during the horrifying hour spent trapped in the locked basement bearing witness to Tom's brutal assault, he had metamorphosed from a shy, insecure teenager, into a more self-assured man. He did not feel conceited acknowledging the courage it had taken to go back to the frat house to rescue his new friends. In fact, he felt damn proud of himself. But his bravery did not extend to facing his father or grandfather and asking them to divulge secret information about their fellow alumni, especially now he had shamed them by not becoming a member of the elite fraternity. Of course, they had no idea of the reason, they just assumed he had failed the hazing rituals. But their ignorance only made Booker's request more difficult. He had no reason to ask who held the prestigious title of Keymaster, and he felt the suffocating heaviness of failure weighing down on his shoulders. More than anything, he wanted to help Dennis, but his ingrained childhood terror prevented him from confronting the two men who had made his life a misery from birth, leaving him feeling like a coward and a traitor.
When Booker came to the uncomfortable realization Harold wasn't the pushover he had expected, he quickly re-evaluated his tact, and pushing back his chair, he stood up and gave the scrawny freshman a withering look. “I thought you had balls, Horshack. I was obviously wrong. Enjoy your boring, safe life.”
The cruel statement had the desired effect. Harold jumped to his feet, the force of his movement sending his chair clattering to the pavement, the sound turning several patrons’ heads. “I do have balls!” he yelled, his face turning red with fury. “I’ll get you the information you need, and then you’ll see I’m just as good as you!”
A slow smile played over Booker’s lips. “Attaboy, Harold,” he praised softly. “I knew you had it in you.”
Unsure if he had been played like the proverbial fiddle, Harold smiled back uncertainly. But even if his new friend had cleverly manipulated him into agreeing to help, he didn’t care. He would prove himself once and for all, and with his head held high, he would look Dennis square in the face and revel in the admiration shining from the young officer’s eyes.
**
Fifty minutes later, Booker stood outside Tom’s apartment staring at the shiny 222 adorning the painted door, and procrastinating about whether to knock or just walk in. He thought through the pros and cons of both scenarios for several minutes before determining the former was the safer option, and lifting his hand, he rapped his knuckles on the door. Silence met his request, and he knocked again, this time, louder and a little more forcefully. He heard movement in the apartment and knowing Tom would be eyeing him through the peephole, he relaxed his features into a smile. Seconds later, he heard the sound of the chain pulling back and the door swung slowly open, revealing Tom’s ashen face.
“Hey,” he murmured, his heart filling with sadness at the sight of Tom’s frightened expression. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Tom rubbed an awkward hand over the back of his neck. “You didn’t,” he lied, his eyes not quite meeting his friend’s worried gaze, and stepping back from the door, he allowed Booker access to the apartment.
Once inside, Booker heard the chain slide back into place, and he suppressed a sigh. But when he spied the Smith and Wesson in Tom’s hand, his concern for his friend rose to a whole new level. It was understandable Tom was feeling nervous and vulnerable, but he did not want him to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, especially with a gun in his hand. One false move and Hanson could end up facing a murder charge, or worst-case scenario, he could wind up killing an innocent person. It was a worrying thought, and Booker wondered if he should intervene and remove the weapon from Tom’s possession. But he had no legal grounds to do so; Tom was licensed to carry a gun, and without going to Fuller and explaining the whole sordid story, he was powerless to act. However, he silently vowed to keep an eye on his friend, especially out in the field. The last thing Tom needed was a wrongful death charge on his hands.
Conscious that Booker was staring at his gun, Tom offered an embarrassed smile. “Stupid, huh?” he admitted in a soft voice. “It’s not like they’re gonna come knocking on my door.”
When Booker made no reply, he carefully placed the Smith and Wesson on the coffee table, walked over to the window, and stared outside. He flinched slightly when a comforting hand squeezed his shoulder, but for a fraction of a second, he allowed himself to draw comfort from the sensation of Booker’s touch before shrugging free. “You don’t have to babysit me,” he muttered, his gaze fixing on the steady stream of traffic below. “I’m okay.”
Booker knew Tom was anything but okay, but he refrained from stating the obvious and instead, he went against his better judgment and agreed. “Okay, if you’re sure you’re all right, I do have some things to take care of.”
Surprised and a little hurt that Booker would abandon him so easily, tears welled in Tom’s eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. “I’m sure,” he replied in a spuriously bright voice. “I’ve got some things to do too, so…”
His voice trailed off before the quaver rising in his throat threatened to give him away. The last thing he wanted was to spend time on his own with only his mind for company, where every sound had him reaching for his gun, certain that McCarter and the other Pi Taus were coming to get him. But he was too ashamed to admit his fears to Booker, and so he suffered in silence, unwilling to burden his friend any more than he already had.
Although Booker sensed Tom’s reluctance, he was a man on a mission. Having convinced Horshack to at least try to find out who held the esteemed title of Pi Tau Keymaster, he was desperate to go home and wait for the phone call that would give him all the information he needed to begin his secret assignment. He was not due back at the Chapel until Monday, giving him three full days to carry out his plan. However, he hoped by using the time-honored tactic of intimidation, he would be able to persuade the Keymaster to hand over the videotape without actually having to use any real force, saving him time and energy. It was his opinion the man would have to be at least in his sixties, giving him a physical as well as a psychological advantage. His arrogance knew no bounds, and he was confident he could intimidate a pensioner, even one who was quite possibly a summa cum laude. He did not feel threatened by intelligence, on the contrary, he enjoyed the challenge. Many inaccurately assumed he was nothing more than a muscle-bound pretty boy, a grunt who was incapable of formulating a plan. And while he did not profess to be an Einstein, he had graduated in the top two percent of his class, which validated his position as a man who possessed both brawn and brains. Not that he cared what Joe Citizen thought, but sometimes it was nice to prove them wrong. After all, no one wanted to be typecast, not even someone as laid-back as Booker.
But as he stared at Tom’s dejected stance—the slumped shoulders and downcast gaze—he briefly wondered if he should postpone his mission for a few days so he could continue to give his friend the support he needed. However, as much as it pained him to see Hanson so broken, he was a man of action, and once again, he went against his better judgment, and decided to forge ahead so he could finally bring an end to Tom’s fears forever.
- 18
- 19
- 20
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Beneath a Heart of Darkness