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Chasing a Butterfly	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2592 -:- 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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Wednesday October 25^th1989 (7.38 p.m.)
Tom sat on the bathroom floor as a young female paramedic carefully checked the wound on the back of his head. He looked up and saw Booker standing in the doorway, nervously chewing on the skin around his thumbnail and he quickly lowered his gaze. He had caught a glimpse of remorse in the dark haired officer’s eyes, but he was too weary and upset to offer him any words of comfort. The phrase two-bit whore continued to echo throughout his throbbing head, constantly reminding him of how Booker really saw him. He wasn’t his lover, he was a prostitute paid with room and board, and the realization cut through his heart like a razor blade. After living so long with nothing but emptiness inside him, he had finally found the courage to open his heart to someone, only to have it stomped on in the cruelest of ways. Booker did not love him; he had made that perfectly clear with the callousness of his words. But what his dazed mind did not understand was why the dark haired officer had put his job on the line for him if he was nothing more than a sex toy. It made no sense, but he no longer cared; all he wanted to do was close his eyes and slip into a world of oblivion.
When something wet touched his cheek, he instinctively drew away and looking up, he realized the paramedic was gently cleaning the blood from his face with a washcloth. “You really should go to the hospital and get that head wound checked out,” the young woman advised him in a soft voice.
He attempted to give a reassuring smile but his eyes misted with tears and he quickly lowered his head in shame. “I’m okay,” he mumbled into his chest.
Getting slowly to her feet, the paramedic turned her attention to Booker. “You mentioned that he blacked out,” she stated in a cold voice. “How long was he unconscious?”
Booker’s eyes darted nervously from Tom to the woman. “Um, not long, maybe twenty seconds.”
The woman squatted back down and laid a gentle hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Is there somewhere safe you can spend the night?”
The realization that the woman perceived him as a battered spouse was too much for Tom and tears spilled from his tortured eyes, creating a wet trail down his pale cheeks. The sight was so heartbreaking, all Booker wanted to do was wrap his arms around him and hold him tight. But when he took a step forward, the male paramedic immediately intercepted him. “I think you’ve done enough.”
Booker’s hands began to shake as he struggled to control his anger. The two paramedics had automatically labeled him an abuser without taking the time to ask him his side of the story. The fight had been fair, he had the bruises to prove it and Tom’s head wound was the result of an accident. But in the eyes of the world, he was to blame and suddenly, he was tired of being everyone’s whipping boy. Since Tom had come into his life, he had dealt with nothing but pain and anguish and he was physically and emotionally exhausted. All he wanted was his old life back.
Ignoring the male paramedic, he spoke to the young woman. “There’s a friend he can stay with, I’ll make the call.”
Tom lifted his tear-stained face and stared at Booker open-mouthed. “You’re kicking me out?”
Booker refused to meet Tom’s devastated gaze. “It’s for the best,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Harry will take—”
“Harry?” Tom exclaimed in disbelief. “Harry hates me!”
The two paramedics exchanged worried glances. “Maybe we should call the cops,” the woman suggested to her partner.
“I’M A COP!” Booker yelled and raking his fingers through his hair, he raised his eyes to the ceiling and grunted in frustration. “Jesus Christ, we had a fight! Why are you making me out to be the villain?”
“I’m not going to Harry’s,” Tom interjected moodily. “I’d rather sleep on a park bench.”
Spinning around, Booker completely lost his temper. “FINE! SLEEP ON A FUCKING PARK BENCH!” he screamed into Tom’s startled face. “I’M DONE WITH YOU AND ALL YOUR FUCKING BULLSHIT!”
The male paramedic reached down and took Tom by the arm. “C’mon, we’re taking you to the hospital and then you can figure out where you’re going from there.”
Too dazed by Booker’s verbal attack to refuse, Tom allowed the two EMTs to help him to his feet. Turning to Booker, he stifled a sob. “I loved you,” he whispered in a teary voice.
“Yeah?” Booker shot back angrily. “I guess you won’t be making that mistake again,” and turning away, he stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door closed with a bang.
****
Wednesday October 25^th1989 (9.18 p.m.)
The sound of the busy E.R. drifted in through the curtain of the small cubicle. Tom sat on the edge of the narrow bed, his dark eyes cast gloomily at the floor as he waited for a doctor to sign his discharge. He was in pain, emotionally exhausted and with no place to call home; his world was once again slowly unraveling and he had no one to blame except himself. Deep in his soul, he knew Dennis had only stolen the tapes to protect him, but it still hurt to know that his lover considered him both emotionally and physically ill equipped to deal with his own problems. After all, he had encountered more suffering and heartache in the last twenty months than most people experienced in a lifetime… he was a professional survivor.
The curtain drew back and he gazed up expectantly, but when he saw Harry standing in front of him looking ill at ease, his eyebrows rose in question. “What the hell are you doing here?”
A forced smile played over Ioki’s lips. “Nice to see you too Hanson,” he replied in a terse voice, “always a pleasure.”
Tom’s expression softened somewhat, but his eyes remained wary. “I doubt that,” he muttered sadly. “You don’t have to pretend Harry, I know you hate me. So again I ask, what are you doing here?”
Harry hesitated for a moment before pulling up a chair and sitting down. He studied Tom’s bruised face for several moments and letting out a sigh, he explained his feelings. “I don’t hate you Hanson… not anymore. I guess I pity—”
“Pity?” Tom questioned in a high, incredulous voice. “You pity me? Since when did I ever ask for your fucking pity? How dare you come in here and—”
“I came because Booker asked me to,” Harry interrupted, his narrow eyes flashing angrily. “Don’t make me regret it by acting like a self righteous asshole.”
All of Tom’s anger instantly drained away and he gazed back at Harry with large, doubting eyes. “Dennis asked you to come here?” he asked disbelievingly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why would he do that? He hates me, he thinks I’m a whore.”
Harry shook his head slowly back and forth. “He doesn’t hate you Tom… he loves you. Dennis can be hotheaded at times and he says things in anger that he’ll regret when he’s had time to cool off and reevaluate the situation. But he does think you need some time apart and so I’m offering you a place to stay until the two of you can work things out.”
The emotion of the night’s events once again took their toll on Tom and as he gazed into Harry’s tranquil face, a single tear trickled down his cheek. “Why would you do that?” he whispered. “Why would you help me?”
Ioki shrugged his shoulders and gave Tom a half smile. “Because Dennis is my friend… my best friend and I want to see him happy.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And he won’t be happy unless he knows you’re safe.”
Tom chewed anxiously on his lower lip. Although he was grateful to Harry, he felt uncomfortable about accepting his offer. They were no longer friends; in fact, he had no idea what they were. What did you call a man who had suffered a serious gunshot wound because of your negligence? Should he consider him an enemy, an acquaintance, or a stranger? Could he trust him, or was this just a well thought out plan to get him in his house so he could exact revenge? The scenarios were endless and Tom’s aching head whirled in confusion. But deep inside his mind, there was a little voice telling him that no matter what had transpired over the last few hours, Dennis would never do anything to hurt him intentionally. The dark haired officer had proven himself time and time again as a trusted friend and even if their sexual relationship was now over, he knew he could always count on him when he needed to.
Wiping the lone tear from his cheek, he gave Harry a watery smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it and I promise it’ll only be for a few days. I’m sure I’ll find somewhere to live temporarily until…” His voice drifted off and he left the remainder of the sentence unspoken.
Harry returned a small smile. Although he was not happy at the thought of Tom living with him, he was willing to do it for Booker, and all he could hope was that the two men settled their differences and reunited before Tom’s hearing. He was surprised to hear the desolation in Hanson’s voice when he spoke about finding somewhere temporary to live until his court appearance. His preliminary hearing was in two weeks time and now that the tapes had disappeared, there was no evidence tying him to any drug activity and the police would have to dismiss the charge. That left the negligent homicide charge and that allegation had always been sketchy. Once again, there was no proof that Tom had been careless in his duty as a police officer and it was likely the case against him would also be dismissed. But for Harry, it was a double-edged sword. He felt he was justified to some recompense for the months of rehabilitation he had endured after the shooting, and he also considered Penhall to be the forgotten party throughout the eight long months since that fateful night in the warehouse. But he cared deeply for Booker as a friend and he knew if Tom did go to prison, his partner would have trouble coming to terms with the fact. Dennis was a good man and he did not want to see him endure any unnecessary heartache, even if it gave him his own peace of mind.
Getting up from his seat, he managed a more genuine smile. “You can stay as long as you want,” he advised. “Now, let’s find a doctor and get you out of here.”
****
Thursday October 26^th1989 (3.08 a.m.)
Standing in the open doorway of Harry’s bedroom, Tom stared down at his sleeping form. He had lain awake on the couch, staring up at the living room ceiling whilst he contemplated his choices. To everyone else, it seemed a simple decision. He would front up at the court hearing and stand silently whilst a judge made a determination that would ultimately, affect his life forever. However, he was not prepared to put his future in the hands of another; it was his life and he deserved a chance to turn it around.
He would prove himself worthy.
Walking into the bedroom, he stopped beside the bed and laying a hand on Ioki’s shoulder, he gave it a gentle shake. “Harry.”
Harry’s eyes flew open and he gasped in surprise. “Hanson? Jesus Christ! What are you doing in my bedroom?”
A nervous smile played over Tom’s lips. “Can we talk?”
Peering at his bedside clock, Harry rubbed a hand over his bleary eyes. “At three in the morning?”
“Sorry,” Tom apologized quietly. “I couldn’t sleep and I really need to ask you a favor.”
Sitting up in bed, Harry turned on the overhead light and gave Tom a measured look. “Do you really think after everything that's happened you're deserving of a favor?” he asked in a sleepy voice.
Tom let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not asking you to help me, I want you to help Booker.”
Harry’s eyebrows knitted together. “Help Booker?” he queried in surprise. “Help him how?”
Taking a deep breath, Tom gave a beseeching look. “Just promise me you’ll look out for him.”
A small laugh sounded from between Harry’s lips. “I’m pretty certain Booker can take care of himself,” he replied with a smile. “What’s this all about, you’re not making any sense.”
Tom’s expression became impassive. “Just promise me.”
Desperate to get back to sleep, Harry turned off the light. “Sure Hanson, whatever you want,” he chuckled.
Tom remained standing for several seconds longer before turning away and exiting the bedroom. He knew he could rely on Harry to do as he asked and in the morning, he would make the phone call that would ultimately alter the course of his life and how it panned out, would then be in the hands of the universe.
But whatever the outcome, his mind would finally be at peace.
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Chasing a Butterfly