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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
- 5
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- 7
Booker and Hanson sat in stony silence as the Boeing 767 winged its way from Los Angeles to Omaha. The plane was crowded with noisy passengers returning from Christmas vacation spent with loved ones. Staring moodily out of the window, Tom could feel his irritation rising as the tinny sound of loud music leaked from the headphones of Dennis’ Walkman. He wanted to yell at him to turn the volume down but his petulant mood prevented him from being the one to make first contact. His heart still carried the weight of his captain’s words and he felt betrayed by the man who over the years, he had come to admire. That Fuller would even contemplate transferring him to another department was crushing to his ego. He had always considered himself a team player but all that had dramatically changed when Booker joined the program. They had got off to a shaky start and it had only gone downhill from there. That was until the shooting. It was then that he had seen another side to Booker, a softer, less abrasive side. However, the glimpse had been fleeting and now they were back to square one. He disliked Booker, Booker disliked him and unless they patched up their differences, one of them was looking at a new career path.
As the pilot announced their descent, Tom turned away from the window and buckled his seat belt. Casting a quick glance at Booker, he let out a quiet expletive when he saw him reclined in his seat with his eyes closed, a peaceful expression radiating across his face. The dark haired officer was the picture of composure and it infuriated Tom to think that he could be so confident that he would not be the one sacked from the Jump Street program if they did not figure out a way to get along.
**
When the flight attendant tapped Dennis on the shoulder, he pulled off his headphones and put his seat in the upright position. Listening to Guns N’ Roses had helped somewhat to alleviate his fears of Fuller sending him back to Internal Affairs but he still felt uptight. He knew he was skilled at exuding an outer calm but inside, he was a tight knot of anxiety. Although not exceptionally close to any of his co-workers at the Chapel, he enjoyed the job immensely and he did not want to go back to investigating the misconduct of his fellow officers. When he had joined the force, it had never been his intention to become a nark. He had always imagined having a partner, someone he trusted with his life and side by side, they would solve cases together and lock up the bad guys. At the memory, a pink hue tinged his cheeks. He had been such a naïve, romantic fool back then and it had been a harsh reality check when he found himself on the outer with his colleagues. His exclusion from after work functions had left him feeling bitter and resentful and he had found himself putting up invisible barriers. It was easier to give off a devil may care attitude than admit that he was hurting. It was how he had survived high school and now, it was how he survived work.
As the plane touched down, he turned his head towards the window and his stomach fluttered with desire when he caught a glimpse of Tom’s profile. Since their argument, he had tried to deny his feelings for Hanson but he was slowly losing the battle. He was hopelessly and utterly in love with the man sitting next to him and even though he was realistic enough to know it was an unattainable love, he could not quell his feelings. He knew that the only way he could have Tom in his life, even as a friend, was to apologize for his outburst at the hospital. However, saying sorry was not an act he found easy to perform. He was stubborn and proud and he still believed that Hanson was in the wrong and therefore, the words remained unspoken.
When the seat belt light dinged off, he stood up with the aid of his cane and opened the overhead compartment. Both he and Tom were traveling light, just a change of clothes each for the two-day trip. Grabbing out his bag, he purposely ignored Tom’s backpack and joined the queue of passengers who were slowly disembarking the plane. He knew he was behaving childishly but he just could not help it; Tom somehow brought out the worst in him.
Walking into the arrivals lounge, he stopped and waited for Hanson to appear through the throng of passengers. He let out an irritated sigh when Tom sauntered straight past him and picking up his bag, he followed him to the car rental desk. Standing slightly back from the counter, he let Tom do the talking and when they had the keys to their rented Toyota, he followed him silently out to the car park. The bitterly cold Nebraska wind took his breath away and he quickly zipped up his leather jacket. Winter in Omaha was brutal and he longed to be back in California.
By the time they reached the car, his frame of mind had darkened considerably and stepping forward, he swiftly snatched the keys from Tom’s gloved hand. “I’m driving,” he growled.
Even though he was in no mood to stand outside in the freezing air arguing, Tom attempted to grab the keys back but failed. “Yeah right. What about your leg?” he snapped irritably as he looked pointedly at the cane in Dennis’ hand. “I don’t fancy slamming into a tree because you’re not fit to drive.”
“Too fucking bad,” Booker replied rudely as he held the keys out of Tom’s reach. “You either come with me or stay here. Your choice.”
Hanson seriously considered punching Booker in the face but he managed to resist the urge. If he and Dennis did not find a way to mend their differences, he could very well face the prospect of losing his job in the Jump Street program. As a police officer, he had never been happier than when he was working undercover and the thought of being sent back to regular duties terrified him. Therefore, with that thought in mind, he turned away and walking around to the passenger door, he opened it and climbed silently inside the vehicle.
Dennis should have felt triumphant at once again getting the better of Hanson but in fact, he felt miserable. They had only been in each other’s company for a little over four hours and they had spoken less than half a dozen times. They still had a five-hour car journey to contend with and the thought of being that close to Tom and yet having no contact; either verbal or physical, was enough to make him feel utterly depressed.
When an icy gust of wind blew through the car park, he quickly opened the car door and climbed inside. Tom was staring despondently out of the window, his body turned purposely away from the driver’s seat. Switching the key in the ignition, Booker adjusted the heating and with a sigh, he drove out of the airport.
**
Three hours later
The journey had been pretty much what Booker had expected… uncomfortable. Tom continued to stare out of the window as a heavy snow began to fall and his frosty demeanor made Booker angrier as every mile passed. Snow impeded his vision and as he concentrated on keeping the car on the narrow country road, he felt the beginnings of a headache stabbing behind his right eye. Pain and fatigue finally got the better of him and turning his head, he stared at Tom’s back. “What the fuck’s your problem?”
Tom turned his head and scowled at Dennis. “My problem?” he snorted. “You’re the one with the problem, not me.”
Taking a hand off the wheel, Booker rubbed his fingers over his aching temple. “I didn’t start this Hanson,” he growled. “You did. You fucking lied to me at the hospital—”
Turning abruptly around in his seat, Tom glared angrily at Booker. “I’m not the only one who’s lied!” he shouted. “What about you? You’ve been keeping secrets from all of us since day one!”
Booker’s knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “When did I ever lie to you?” he snapped. “Name one time!”
“Are you serious?” Tom shot back with a hollow laugh. “What about keeping your sexuality a secret? You parade around the place, acting like a ladies’ man and in reality, half the time you’re lusting after men!”
At Tom’s words, Booker’s cheeks flamed red and he forgot about the treacherous driving conditions outside. “How the FUCK is that your business?” he screamed into Tom’s face. “Why do you care who I date? We’re not friends Hanson, I don’t have to tell you squat about my life!”
It only took a moments lack of concentration for the car to lose traction on a bend of the icy road. “DENNIS LOOK OUT!” Tom yelled as the car sped towards the embankment.
Booker had little time to react and within seconds, the vehicle ploughed into several trees and slid down the slope. When it started to roll, the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal drowned out Tom and Dennis’ yells but moments later, the car came to rest and the yelling ceased as both men were knocked into unconsciousness.
**
A loud noise broke through the blackness of Booker’s mind and drew him back towards awareness. He let out a loud groan and opening his eyes, he struggled to comprehend where he was. The deafening sound continued to resonate and looking around him, he quickly realized that he was slumped against the steering wheel and the noise was the car’s horn.
Pushing himself carefully back into a sitting position, he let out a sigh when the sound stopped. An icy wind blew through the shattered windscreen and looking outside, he could see that the car was once again on four wheels. His attention turned to the sensation of warm blood trickling down his face and he winced when his fingers came into contact with a gash above his eye. As he attempted to clear the confusion from his mind, he heard a soft moaning and turning his head, he saw Hanson slouched in his seat, his right arm hanging at a peculiar angle.
“Tommy,” he muttered softly and unbuckling his seat belt, he leaned across the car. “Tommy wake up.”
Hanson’s eyelids fluttered open and immediately, his distressed moaning became louder. Clutching at his injured arm, tears of pain leaked from his eyes and he began to scream, “OH GOD! OH FUCK! HELP ME! OH GOD DENNIS HELP ME!”
It took Booker only a moment to see that Tom had dislocated his shoulder. Reaching out, he laid a gentle hand against his bloody cheek. “It’s okay Tommy, it’s okay. Just stay still, I’m going to come over to your side.”
Gritting his teeth, Tom banged his head against the back of the seat. “It hurts Dennis! Oh God it hurts!”
“Shh,” Dennis soothed softly and avoiding Tom’s injured shoulder, he gently placed a hand on the left side of his chest to prevent him from moving. “Take deep breaths.”
Screwing his eyes closed, Tom bit down hard on his lower lip. His shallow breathing echoed throughout the car and Booker felt a moment of panic. They were on a narrow country road in the middle of a snowstorm and it had been at least an hour since they had seen another car. Looking at Tom’s pale face, he knew they could not stay in the vehicle. With the freezing temperatures and icy wind, they would be dead by morning. It was then that he remembered passing a small cabin partially hidden in the trees just moments before they had started arguing. It was probably a hunter's cabin but at least they would have shelter for the night and then he could hike for help in the morning.
Turning in his seat, he reached into the back of the car and felt around until his fingers grasped hold of his walking cane. He carefully pulled it through the gap between the seats and zipping up his jacket, he opened the door and struggled out of the car. Hunching his shoulders against the cold, he began to shiver as the icy wind penetrated through his leather jacket. Using his cane for support, his feet crunched through the snow as he hobbled carefully around the damaged vehicle and pulling open the passenger door, he managed to squat down. “Hey Tommy,” he murmured softly. “You have to get out of the car.”
Tom’s eyes remained closed as his head moved from side to side. “N-No,” he stammered. “It h-hurts t-too much.”
Booker reached out a hand and gently brushed Tom’s hair from his eyes. “I know it does,” he replied sympathetically, “but we need to get out of the cold. There’s a cabin about six-hundred yards up the road. We’ll be there in no time.”
Opening his eyes, Tom gazed at Booker in anguish. “And then what?” he whispered.
Smiling encouragingly, Booker carefully leaned over and unbuckled Tom’s seat belt. “Then we fix that shoulder,” he reassured.
Tom hesitated for a moment before nodding his head. “Okay,” he agreed quietly, "but I’m going to need some help.”
Booker stood up. “Wait a minute,” he instructed, "let me get our bags out of the trunk.” When Tom did not answer, he carefully made his way back to the driver’s side and pulled the car key out of the ignition. As he turned and walked away, a thought struck him and doubling back, he opened up the glove compartment and pulled out the small first aid kit. Spying a notepad and pen, he quickly scrawled a note and stuck it into the window trim. Closing the door, he made his way around to the back of the car and unlocking the trunk, he unzipped his bag and shoved the small square box inside. Hoisting the two bags onto his shoulder, he gently closed the lid and limped back to Hanson. When he gazed down into Tom’s pale face, he could see that he was in excruciating pain but he could do nothing about it. They needed to get to the cabin before he could attempt to help him.
Dropping the bags onto the ground, he propped his cane against the car and leaning forward, he gave Hanson an empathetic smile. “I’m really sorry, but his is going to hurt.”
“Just do it,” Tom replied through gritted teeth.
Taking a deep breath, Booker carefully swiveled Tom’s legs out of the door. He heard Tom draw in a sharp intake of breath and his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.
“K-Keep going… keep g-going,” Tom panted as tears of pain began to stream down his face.
In an attempt not to injure Tom further, Booker leaned inside the car and placed one hand under his left armpit and the other on his right hip. “On the count of three,” he directed. “One…two… THREE!”
Tom’s scream echoed through the snow-covered countryside as hot pain radiated through his shoulder causing his legs to buckle and moments later, he faded into blackness. When his eyelids fluttered open, he felt protective arms holding him upright and he let out a moan of pain. Perspiration beaded on his top lip and turning his head, he smiled weakly at Booker. “Thanks for not dropping me,” he muttered.
A small smile played across Booker’s lips. “I thought about it,” he joked, "but I figured you’ve been through enough.”
Tears filled Tom’s eyes. “I would have deserved it. I’ve behaved like such an asshole.”
Booker’s grinned broadened. “Yeah you have,” he teased. “But let’s forget about that now. Do you think you can walk?”
Clutching his injured arm, Tom nodded his head silently. Relieved that they were finally on their way, Booker closed the car door and picking up their bags in one hand, he grabbed hold of his cane and led Tom towards shelter
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On the Wings of Maybe