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To Chase a Feather in the Wind	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1696 -:- 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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Seven days later
Alexander Giebelhouse watched silently as Brady roughly inserted a finger into Booker’s anus. He had quickly surmised that the more brutally Dennis was abused, the quicker he achieved an orgasm. During the last few days, he had begun to measure the time between penetration and climax and when Brady used his fist, Dennis ejaculated on average a full four minutes earlier than when he was fucked in the conventional way. For Giebelhouse, it was a fascinating insight into the paraphilias of masochism and he felt a thrill of excitement at every new discovery he made. Booker was his ticket out of Rosewood and he was confident that once his paper was published, he would be offered a lucrative position in a more prestigious institution.
Stepping out of the shadows, he studied the rapturous expression on Dennis’ face as Brady inserted the last of his digits. Personally, he could not imagine how painful it would be to have someone’s hand inside his anus but for Dennis, it was the epitome of pleasure. His cock was already fully erect and precum glistened on the tip; he was in a state of nirvana, waiting for the real pain to begin.
Brady turned his head and addressed Giebelhouse. “Can I fist him now doc?” he asked in a voice full of arousal.
Giebelhouse took note of Brady’s own erect penis and he smiled to himself. The sexual sadist was also a fascinating individual and through his experimentation, he had managed to study the twisted minds of both the abused and the abuser. Of course, Brady had no idea that his motivations and responses were also being scrutinized and documented. Giebelhouse was not stupid, he knew Brady would go berserk if he found out he too was being used as a guinea pig, and Brady was not someone you wanted to piss off. He was well known for his violent tendencies and therefore, Giebelhouse let him believe that he had a certain amount of control. But in reality, he was as much a pawn in the doctor’s research as Booker, because without him, there would be no experiment.
“Doc?” Brady queried again.
Stepping back into the shadows, Giebelhouse gave the command. “Proceed.”
**
Anthony “Mac” McCann moved silently down the deserted corridor. He had been working undercover as an orderly at Rosewood for three days and during that time, he had kept a careful eye on both Booker and Alexander Giebelhouse. However, despite coming to the conclusion that Booker was severely depressed and detached from his environment, he had not witnessed any obvious signs of abuse. Giebelhouse had been trickier to observe, but during the brief moments he was able to watch him interacting with the patients, he had seen no evidence of impropriety, although, on a personal level, the man did make his skin crawl; there was something not right about him. But Mac knew he needed more than a gut feeling, he had to catch the doctor in the act of doing something immoral to Booker and therefore, having had no luck on the day shift, he had requested an assignment to the night shift. He figured if Giebelhouse really was abusing Booker, the most opportune time to do so would be without the fear of listening ears or prying eyes.
As he approached Booker’s room, he slowed his pace and crept cautiously up to the closed door. Taking a deep breath, he placed his ear against the painted surface and listened. Despite his training, nothing could have prepared him for what he heard, a taunting male voice whose words made him break out in a cold sweat. “Do ya like my fist up your ass ya little freak? Do ya? Huh? Do ya?”
Running a trembling hand over his mouth, he struggled to control his emotions. Hanson had been right all along, someone was abusing Booker in the most abhorrent way possible and it appeared that no one at Rosewood had a clue it was happening.
With his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, he reached down, unstrapped his gun from his lower leg, and pulled out his badge. Never before had he felt such a rush of adrenalin, never before had he relished an arrest more than he did now. He could not wait to bust the sick bastard who got off on abusing the mentally unstable and he hoped whoever it was, would rot in prison for a very long time.
Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand on the handle and carefully opened the door a fraction of an inch. The room was dark but instantly the man’s voice became louder, his vile words sending a shiver down Mac's spine. “You like blood, don’t ya bitch.”
Mac mentally counted to three and visualizing Booker’s room in his mind, he kicked open the door and trained his gun on the bed. “Police! Nobody move!”
**
Tom sat by the telephone, nervously chewing at his thumbnail as he willed it to ring. He had been bitterly disappointed Tony McCann had yet to discover any evidence that Giebelhouse was abusing Booker but he was certain all that would change now that the young undercover cop was working the night shift. Giebelhouse was not a stupid man and the cover of darkness would afford him the concealment he needed to carry out whatever mistreatment he was afflicting on Booker.
Getting to his feet, he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He desperately craved alcohol but he knew he needed to keep a clear head, just in case he got the call and he had to rush to Dennis’ side. It terrified him that if Dennis was sent to another facility, the same thing could happen again and he wondered if his friend would ever be safe from those who took pleasure from abusing the mentally ill. However, this time he was determined to be by Dennis’ side every step of the way, monitoring his recovery for himself instead of putting his trust in the doctors. That had been his mistake when Dennis entered Rosewood, he had been told to stay away at the beginning and he had complied. But if he had met Doctor Giebelhouse sooner, he was sure he would have realized that his methods were not in the best interest of the patient and it was a guilt he would have to live with for the rest of his life. He had let Dennis down and because of his negligence, his friend had paid the ultimate price.
The sudden piercing ring of the phone made him jump and running across the room, he snatched up the receiver. “Hanson!” he barked.
Penhall’s trembling voice sounded down the line. “Jesus Christ Tommy, you were right. McCann caught an orderly sexually abusing Booker whilst Giebelhouse took notes! Fuck! I can’t believe it and I’m so sorry I—”
Tom barely heard Doug’s apology. “IS HE OKAY?” he yelled down the phone in a shrill voice. “IS DENNIS OKAY?”
“He’s uh, he’s at Saint Mary’s,” Penhall replied. “But Tommy, you can’t see him… hello? Hello? Hanson? Are you still there?” But when he heard only dial tone, he knew Tom had hung up.
**
Placing his hands on the hospital reception counter, Tom leaned forward and attempted to keep his voice calm. “No, you don’t understand,” he told the bewildered woman behind the desk. “I want to speak to the ER doctor and I’m not leaving until I do.”
Not wanting a scene, the woman lifted the phone and after relaying her message, she hung up. “Take a seat,” she instructed Tom in a cool voice. “The doctor will see you when he’s free.”
Tom turned away and sat down on one of the all too familiar red chairs that adorned the waiting room. It seemed surreal that he was back at Saint Mary’s hospital for the fourth time in ten months and he prepared himself for a long wait. He knew the drill all too well and settling back against the uncomfortable plastic, he folded his arms across his chest and closing his eyes, he let out a weary sigh. Moments later, he jumped violently when a hand touched his shoulder. “Mister Hanson?”
Opening his eyes, he looked into the handsome face of a middle-aged doctor. “Yes,” he replied quickly and smiling nervously, he held out his hand, “call me Tom.”
The doctor shook Tom’s outstretched hand and introduced himself. “Doctor Gabriel Miller, I’ve been taking care of Dennis until the resident psychiatrist can be contacted.”
Tom ran a trembling hand over his mouth. “Is he… is he okay?”
The doctor glanced around the crowded waiting room. “Let’s take a walk,” he suggested quietly.
Getting to his feet, Tom followed the doctor down a long corridor. “How much do you know?” the doctor asked.
Taking a deep breath, Tom gave Miller the abridged version of the last ten months of his and Dennis’ lives. He did not leave anything out, but he kept it short and to the point. “I know he was being sexually abused at Rosewood,” he concluded with a heavy sigh. “How badly is he hurt?”
Miller stopped walking and addressed Tom. “I can’t comment on his mental condition but physically, he’s suffered some terrible injuries. There are several deep burns and knife wounds, plus internal damage from the sexual assaults. He’ll be in hospital for a while and then he’ll be transferred to the psych ward so he can receive treatment for his mental illness.”
The news was no real surprise to Tom and he nodded his head in resignation. “When can I see him?”
The doctor hesitated for a moment before making his decision. “You can visit for a few minutes now, but he’s been sedated so he may not know you’re there. After that, well, you’ll have to get permission from the resident psychiatrist. He needs time to heal, he's been through a lot.”
“Yeah,” Tom sighed wearily, “he really has.”
The two men continued their journey through the maze of hospital corridors before finally stopping outside a curtained cubicle. “Wait here,” Miller instructed and he disappeared between the curtain’s folds.
Tom’s thumb found its way to his mouth and he anxiously chewed at the jagged edges of his nail. He was well prepared for what he was about to be confronted with but that did not make it any easier. His feelings for Booker had increased exponentially over the last ten months and he knew seeing him in pain would cause insurmountable heartache. But he also knew he needed to be strong and reassure Booker that he was there to help him adjust when he was ready to once again, face the world.
Soft voices sounded from behind the curtain and moments later, Miller reappeared. “He’s awake but groggy. Try not to upset him, he’s in a very fragile mental state, understood?”
Nodding his head in silent agreement, Tom pulled back the curtain and walked into the small cubicle. Booker lay on a narrow hospital gurney, his eyes were closed and his bare chest was covered in cardiac leads that connected to a cardiac monitor beside the bed. An intravenous line pumped saline into a vein in his arm and several white dressings concealed various sized wounds on his abdomen. His genitalia and legs remained covered and Tom shuddered as he imagined the damage that lay hidden beneath the thin cotton sheet.
Gathering his wits, he stepped forward and laid a hand on Dennis’ arm. “Hey Dennis,” he murmured softly.
Booker opened his eyes and tears immediately filled his dark orbs. “You came back,” he whispered in a raspy voice. “Why do you always come back?”
Tom forgot his resolve to remain strong and grasping hold of Booker’s hand, he held it tightly within both of his, as tears filled his eyes. “Because I care about you,” he confessed in a soft voice, “and I want you to get well.”
Booker’s eyes fluttered closed. “Why?” he muttered groggily. “I’m nothing… but a fucked up… filthy… whore.”
“No!” Tom exclaimed softly. “You’ve just forgotten who the real you is. But I remember, and I’m going to help you find him, okay?”
When Booker did not reply, Tom realized that he had fallen asleep. He hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips against Booker’s forehead. “I love you,” he murmured softly, "and one day, you'll understand why I fought so hard to save you."
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To Chase a Feather in the Wind