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Poor Tom	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1469 -:- 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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Lyrics from "Space Oddity" by David Bowie

The juvenile corrections van wound slowly through the inner city streets before pulling up outside the Cavan Center for Boys. Tom sat silently in the back, his hands handcuffed in front of him. An undercover police officer posing as a guard sat next to him but did not engage him in conversation. When the back of the van opened, Captain Fuller and Doug Penhall were standing outside. The officer removed Hanson’s handcuffs before he climbed slowly out of the vehicle and into the bright sunlight. Penhall immediately stepped forward and attempted to pull his partner into a hug but Tom side stepped away. Hurt, Doug stared at his best friend. “Are you okay Tommy? You look like shit.”
“Do I?” Tom asked sarcastically. “Jeez Penhall, I wonder why that is.”
“Okay fellas, let’s not get into it here,” Captain Fuller intervened quickly, sensing that Tom might have a few choice words to say to Penhall for leaving him in the center. “There’s plenty of time for Q and A back when we get back to The Chapel.”
“I want to go home,” Hanson mumbled, unable to meet his superior officer’s gaze.
“Sorry Hanson, unless you need to go to the hospital you know the drill,” Fuller replied in a commanding tone. His voice softened when he took in Tom’s disheveled appearance. “Do you need to go to the hospital?” he asked quietly. Tom silently shook his head and turning away, he walked to the waiting patrol car and climbing in, he slammed the door closed.
Penhall turned a worried face towards his Captain. “Do you think he’s all right?” he asked, his eyes wide with concern.
Fuller sighed heavily. “I don’t know Penhall, we all know how rough those centers can be. I’ll organize a doctor to give him the once over and maybe a psych report too. We need to make sure he is mentally strong enough to come back to work.”
“But he’ll be okay, right?” Doug pushed, needing his superior to put his mind at rest.
“In time,” Adam replied quietly. “You just need to be patient Penhall.”
Doug did not reply. Patience was not his virtue and the thought of what Tom might have gone through tore at his heart. Hanson was his best friend and he had left him there to suffer God only knew what kind of horrors. Raking his fingers frantically through his hair, he turned and followed Fuller to the car.
**
Hanson sat at his desk inside The Chapel typing out his report. He wanted nothing more than to go home, close his eyes and never wake up but there was protocol to follow and until he had documented his time within Riverbend, he would not be able to leave. Fuller had spoken to him briefly behind closed doors but he had been monosyllabic with his answers and sensing that his young officer was in need of some rest before their debriefing, Adam had granted him two weeks leave. In the hours since he had left Riverbend, Tom’s mind had started to clear and he no longer felt the confusion he had been living with for the past week. It was as though a switch had clicked in his brain and the fog had cleared, slowly replacing his catatonic depression with feelings of immense anger and resentment towards his fellow officers. He could not understand why he they had left him alone in the juvenile facility without checking on his welfare.
Tom’s hand paused over the keys of the manual typewriter. He had already made his mind up that he would not disclose everything that had happened to him at the juvenile facility. He would report the beatings but not the rapes. He had invented a story as to how he had obtained the information about Matty Richardson murdering Ricky Green. He still did not know how the drugs came in to Riverbend but now that the authorities knew that Matty was receiving them, it would not take them long to find the courier.
So lost in fabricating his story, Tom did not see his fellow officer Judy Hoffs, approach his desk.
“Hey Hanson, good to have you back,” the pretty officer welcomed him warmly. “It can’t have been much fun in there on your own.”
Tom’s eyes glared at her angrily. “Gee Jude, how fucking insightful. You’ll definitely make detective some day.”
Surprised at Tom’s harsh words, tears filled Judy’s dark eyes. “You don’t have to be mean Hanson, I just came over to see if you were okay.”
“DO I FUCKING LOOK OKAY?” Tom yelled so ferociously that Hoffs took a step back.
Penhall and Harry Ioki immediately came running over. “Whoa Tom, you need to back off,” Harry warned, putting a comforting arm around Judy’s shoulder. “We all know it wasn’t easy for you but—”
“What the fuck would you know about it?” Tom snarled. “You only spent two fucking days in there.”
Penhall stepped forward and attempted to placate his friend. “We know it was tough on you Tommy but we’re all here for you, whatever you need.”
Tom gave a hollow laugh. “You’re kidding me right? You’re my partner and you fucking left me you son-of-a-bitch! I’ll never fucking forgive you for what you did, NEVER!”
Doug stared back, his expression stunned. Hanson had never spoken to him so vehemently before. Guilt caused him to become defensive and placing his hands on Tom’s desk, he leaned forward menacingly. “I’ll let that go on account that you’ve had a rough week,” he muttered. “But if you ever speak to me that way again, I’ll knock your fucking head off.”
“You do that,” Tom murmured quietly. “What that fuck do I care.” Standing up, he pushed past his colleagues. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dennis Booker leaning against his desk, calmly chewing on a toothpick. “You got something to say?” he growled at him.
“Nope,” Dennis replied serenely. As Hanson walked past him and out the door, Dennis’ gaze followed him and his smooth brow creased into a frown.
**
Alone in his apartment, Tom took a long swig of whiskey. He had drunk over half the bottle but he still could not reach the numbing state of mind he was desperately searching for. Picking the razor blade off the coffee table, he again scraped it across his upper arm. Blood immediately seeped to the surface and he felt a rush of pleasure run through his tired body. Grabbing the bottle of Jacks, he swallowed several more mouthfuls and stared blankly at the television. Since storming out of The Chapel that afternoon, he had half expected someone to check on him. He knew his behavior was out of character and he thought that would raise alarm bells with his colleagues. But no one had called him and Tom felt himself slipping back into a fog of depression. He was well aware that his conduct had been appalling and that he had hurt his friends with his outburst, but now that he was free from the sexual, physical and emotional abuse, he did not know how to ask his friends for help. His freedom had him feeling more alone than he had felt when he was in Riverbend and the hopelessness of his situation overwhelmed him.
Taking another swig of whiskey, he again trailed the razor blade over his arm, his vision blurring as tears filled his eyes. He swiped them away and watched as the blood bubbled to the surface. He traced a finger through the red liquid, smearing it over his forearm. Something in his mind told him that if he could still bleed he could still feel, but he felt dead inside, as though he was just a brittle shell, completely empty within.
A loud knocking at his door made him jump. He sat listening, wanting it to be Penhall but not certain he could face his best friend in his current state of mind. When another series of raps sounded, Tom stood up and walked slowly over to the door, just as a loud voice called out. “I know you’re in there Hanson, I can hear the TV.”
Tom stared at the door in surprise, the last person he had expected was Dennis Booker. Since joining the Jump Street program six months earlier, Booker had not exactly endeared himself to his fellow colleagues and especially not to Hanson. Their first case together had come close to being a complete disaster and Tom had trouble trusting Booker, especially because the officer had originally come to The Chapel as an informant for Internal Affairs. Hanson found Dennis to be both cocky and arrogant, two traits he despised and he purposely kept his distance from the newest recruit. Normally he would have no trouble telling Dennis to fuck off but now that he was standing outside his door, Tom was at a loss for words. Backing slowly away, he decided to pretend he was not home.
A third round of knocking shook the door. “Open up Hanson,” Booker yelled. “If you don’t, I’ll start singing really loud and I don’t think your neighbors are gonna like it.”
Tom put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes. “Go away,” he whispered. “Go away, go away, go awa—”
The sound of Booker singing cut him off.
“Ground Control to Major Tom

Your circuit’s dead, there’s something wrong

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

Can you hear—”
“SHUT UP!” Tom screamed hysterically. “JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”
There was silence on the other side of the door for several moments and then Booker spoke in a soft voice. “I’m sorry Tommy, please open the door, you’re starting to freak me out.”
Hanson waited several minutes before unlatching the lock and opening the door just a crack. “What do you want?” he asked coldly. “I don’t feel like visitors.”
Dennis’ black eyes took in Tom’s pale, tear-stained face and he suddenly wondered what he was getting himself into. He had come to check on Hanson, thinking that he might need someone to talk to but he had not expected to find Tom so clearly distressed. It was obvious to Booker that Hanson was falling apart and he was not sure that he was the right person to help Tom, given their history together. But Booker was not one to back down from a challenge and he knew he could not just walk away and leave Hanson in the state he was in. He took a deep breath before replying. “I brought pizza, I thought maybe you and I could spend some time together.”
“Why would I do that?” Hanson asked bluntly. “I don’t like you.”
Booker gave Hanson a smile and his whole appearance changed. A look of genuine concern replaced his usual self-important sneer. “You don’t really know me Hanson,” he replied softly. “But I’m worried about you, I think you could use a friend.”
Tom was unable to meet Dennis’ gaze. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.
“No Hanson, you’re not,” Booker murmured quietly. “So why don’t you let me in so we can talk.”
With a reluctant sigh, Tom opened the door. He quickly pulled down the sleeve of his sweatshirt to hide his damaged arm. “Ten minutes okay? Then I want you gone.”
Dennis glanced quickly around the apartment before sitting down on the couch and placing the pizza box on the coffee table. He spied the razor blade before Hanson quickly picked it up and disappeared into his bedroom.
Returning several moments later, Tom sat down next to his visitor. “I’d offer you a drink,” he muttered as he reached out and picked up the bottle. “But this is all I’ve got so…”
Booker gasped as Tom lifted the bottle and took several gulps before placing it back on the table. The movement had pushed up Hanson’s shirtsleeve, revealing the cigarette burns and cuts on his forearm. Dennis did not know if Tom had caused the injuries himself or if someone had done it to him. Either way, it was a shocking thing to witness and his mind went into overdrive as he tried to think what to say.
Tom’s irritable voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “If you’ve got nothing to say you might as well leave.”
Dennis decided on the direct approach. “What happened to your arm?”
“Nothing,” Hanson replied quickly as he pulled down his sleeve.
Booker gave Tom a hard stare. “Don’t bullshit me Hanson. Did you run out of ashtrays and decide to stub the butts out on your arm? And I saw the fucking razor blade. Jesus man, what the hell is going on?”
Hanson’s face reddened. “Nothing. It’s nothing,” he replied sullenly.
Catching Tom off guard, Booker darted his hand out and gripped hold of the young officer’s arm. “If it’s nothing, then show me.”
Hanson struggled to get out of Dennis’ grasp but his fellow officer was too strong. “LET GO!” he yelled frantically as he fought to pull away. “Fucking let me GO!”
Keeping a firm grasp on Tom's wrist, Booker slowly rolled up his sleeve. “Jesus Christ Tommy, what the hell happened?” Dennis cried out in shock.
Seeing the look of horror and disgust on Dennis’ face broke down the final barrier of Tom’s defenses. With a loud sob, he covered his face with his arm and wept uncontrollably. Booker immediately pulled the distressed officer to his chest and wrapped his strong arms protectively around him. “Shh,” he soothed softly as Tom struggled to pull away. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”
Hanson eventually stopped fighting and he cried hysterically as Dennis slowly rocked him back and forth in his arms. “I’m here for you Hanson,” Booker murmured. “Whatever you need, okay?”
Tom's voice was muffled against Dennis’ chest. “I don’t know what to do,” he sobbed. “Oh God Booker, I don’t know what to do!”
“You’re not alone Tommy, whatever it is, I’m gonna help you through it, every step of the way,” Booker muttered softly as he stroked Hanson’s hair. Gently lifting Tom's face so he could look into his eyes, he continued to speak in a quiet voice. “But if I’m gonna help you, I need you to tell me what happened. Do you think you can do that?”
Staring back, Tom’s bottom lip quivered and fresh tears spilled from his eyes. “I let them do it Booker,” he muttered in a barely audible voice. “Oh God, why did I let them do it?”
“Do what Tommy?” Booker pushed gently, suddenly fearing the worst.
“Rape me,” Tom whispered, his wide eyes pleading with Dennis for help. “Oh God Dennis! They raped me!”
Booker felt vomit rise in his throat but he swallowed it back down and pulling Hanson into his arms, he held him close. When he had come over to the apartment, Dennis had never expected that he would find himself totally embroiled in Tom’s emotional nightmare. Since first meeting Hanson, Booker had found him incredibly attractive and over time, he had developed strong feelings for the pretty officer. However, homophobia was widespread within the force, so he had kept his bisexual lifestyle to himself, unsure how his colleagues would react. He realized now that he had to tread very carefully and not let his feelings for Tom impair his judgment. Hanson needed a friend to support him and Booker was prepared to do whatever it took, to get him the help he required. “It’s okay Hanson,” he murmured softly whilst he continued to stroke Tom’s hair. “I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, not ever, okay?”
Closing his eyes, Tom took comfort from the last man he would have ever expected to let into his life... Dennis Patrick Booker.
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Poor Tom