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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
- 6
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- 8
It was a slow, agonizing walk for Tom but eventually he and Dennis arrived at the hunter’s cabin. Snow covered his clothing and white flakes highlighted his brown hair and clung to his long eyelashes. Holding the forearm of his injured arm, he shivered with cold as he watched Dennis try the door and when it did not open, he swore loudly in frustration. The door was bolted shut and a heavy-duty padlock kept it secure from intruders. He knew that neither he nor Dennis was capable of kicking the door in and even if they were in perfect physical shape, he doubted that the lock would have broken under such meager force.
Hearing the distress in Tom’s voice, Booker immediately checked the two small windows but the owner had latched them from the inside. He briefly considered breaking the glass but he knew Tom would be incapable of climbing through and he would still be unable to open the door. Also, a broken window would let in the bitterly cold wind and he had no idea how long they would remain trapped by the weather.
Hunching over in pain, Tom spied a glint of something metallic lying in the snow. Stepping closer, he saw an ax partially buried in the blanket of whiteness that covered the barren ground around the cabin. “Dennis!” he called out and the effort of raising his voice made him gasp as a red-hot jolt of pain ran through his damaged shoulder. “Over here!”
Booker leaned heavily on his cane as he limped over to Tom. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly when he saw Tom’s pale face etched with pain.
Not wanting to admit that his pain was becoming unbearable, Hanson nodded and indicating with his eyes, he tried to keep the wretchedness out of his voice. “D-Down there,” he revealed through gritted teeth.
Dennis immediately saw the ax and he grinned broadly. When he spoke, his breath came out in a white mist. “Perfect.”
Reaching down, he pulled the ax from its frosty habitat and holding it in his hand, he tested the weight. Satisfied that it would do the job, he walked over to the door and rested his cane against the outer wall of the cabin. Bringing the ax up over his shoulder, he turned his head and looked at Tom. “Fingers crossed,” he muttered and returning his gaze to the door, he began to count, “One… two… THREE!”
The ax connected with the padlock with a loud CHINK. Bringing the ax back over his shoulder, he swung down for a second time and then a third. On the fourth strike, the padlock broke on impact and shaking the snow from his hair, he grinned triumphantly at Tom. However, his smile froze when he saw tears of pain streaming down Tom’s face. Pushing open the door, he tossed the ax inside and taking hold of his cane, he walked over to where Tom was standing. “Let’s get you indoors,” he said quietly and placing his hand on Hanson’s uninjured arm, he carefully led him into the cabin.
Once inside, he closed the door and slid the inner bolt across. The cabin was icy cold but it sheltered them from the wind and snow. As he carefully led Hanson over to the double bed, he could feel him trembling with pain. He sat him carefully down on the edge of the bed and glanced around the cabin. It consisted of one sparsely furnished room. Besides the bed, the only other furniture was a small wooden table and two rickety wooden chairs. Several gas bottles sat on a large counter that ran the width of the building, along with a gas burner, crockery, pots, pans, bottles and several cans of unidentified food. A fireplace took up a third of the back wall, its hearth bereft of kindling but a stack of newspapers sat on the floor, waiting to be used as fire starters. The only other item in the room was a metal pail that stood in the corner. Noticing that there was no bathroom, Booker guessed that its primary purpose was as a toilet.
When he heard a loud moan, he quickly turned his attention back to Tom. Sitting carefully on the bed, he laid a comforting hand on his knee. “Once we reduce your shoulder, you’ll feel more comfortable,” he promised quietly.
Tom’s eyes widened in fear. “Reduce it?” he asked in a worried voice. “What the hell does that mean?”
Dennis smiled reassuringly. “It means to relocate the joint. Once it’s back in place, it should feel a whole lot better.”
Chewing nervously on his lower lip, Tom tried not to sound like a wimp. “Have you done this before?” he asked anxiously.
Tilting his head on one side, Dennis could not help but smile. “What’s the matter Hanson?” he asked in a teasing tone. “Don’t you trust me?”
A small grin played across Tom’s lips. “Not really,” he retorted.
Booker laughed softly. “Well Tommy, I’m afraid you’re out of luck ‘cause I’m all you’ve got.”
Pain and emotion overwhelmed Tom and tears once again spilled from his eyes. “I’m so sorry for what I said in the car,” he sobbed. “I didn’t mean it, I was just angry.”
Touched by Tom’s apology, Dennis gently squeezed his knee. “Shh,” he soothed softly. “It’s all forgotten. Let’s just concentrate on fixing your shoulder, okay? Then you’ll feel like a million bucks.”
Sniffing loudly, Tom wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jacket and nodded. “Okay, what do we do?”
Dennis rubbed his fingers nervously over his mouth. “Um, firstly we need to get you out of your jacket.”
“Fuck,” Tom groaned miserably. He knew it was going to be an extremely painful experience and he wished he had something to numb the pain. Casting his eye around the cabin, he quickly spotted a half bottle of whiskey. “Jacks,” he murmured.
“Huh?” Dennis asked in confusion. “I don’t understand what you—”
“Daniels,” Tom muttered. “Jack Daniels… on the bench. It’ll help with the pain.”
Booker ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Geez Hanson, I don’t know. You’ve a large gash where you hit your head. I don’t think alcohol’s the best idea.”
A deep scowl furrowed Tom’s smooth brow. “Since when did you become Mister Sensible?” he asked crossly. “I’m in fucking agony and it’s only going to get worse. I need something to help dull the pain before you start pulling me about.”
At Tom’s harsh tone, Dennis felt his temper rising but he quickly calmed himself down. He knew Tom was scared and in a lot of pain and he could not really blame him for snapping. They were in the middle of nowhere during a snowstorm and neither of them was in top physical shape. He had no idea how much food was in the cabin, but by his cursory glance, there did not appear to be much. Even though he was wary of giving Tom alcohol in case he had a head injury, he did need him to be relaxed to be able to perform the reduction and a few stiff belts of Jacks would certainly help.
Getting slowly to his feet, Dennis hobbled over to the counter and picked up the bottle of whiskey. Sitting back down next to Hanson, he unscrewed the cap and handed him the bottle. “Just take it slow,” he instructed.
Tom lifted up the bottle and swallowed several large gulps of the amber liquid. His throat burned and a feeling of warmth spread inside his chest, instantly making him feel calmer. Tilting the bottle, he guzzled down another large measure before Booker gently pulled the bottle away and placed it on the floor.
“Ready?” Dennis asked quietly.
Tom was anything but ready but he closed his eyes and nodded his head.
Taking hold of the collar on the left side of Tom’s jacket, Booker gently helped him to remove his uninjured arm. Once his arm was free, Booker stood up and gazed down at him sympathetically. “I have to straighten your arm,” he advised softly. “I’m really sorry Tommy but it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”
Hanson gritted his teeth. “Just do it.”
Booker bent forward and gently took hold of Tom’s wrist. As difficult as it was, he ignored Tom’s gasp of pain and being as gentle as possible, he carefully straightened his arm. Hanson screamed and immediately tried to pull free but Dennis held firm. As Tom shouted expletives at him, he pulled the jacket free and threw it onto the bed. Looking down at Hanson’s tear stained face, he felt a moment of guilt at having caused his partner so much pain. However, he knew it had been a necessary evil. The longer Tom’s shoulder remained dislocated, the more difficult it would be to reduce.
Sitting back down on the bed, he reached out to brush Tom’s hair from his eyes but when he saw the warning look, he quickly pulled back. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he muttered sadly, "but I didn’t have a choice.”
A long silence stretched out before Tom finally spoke. “I know you didn’t,” he mumbled. “Can we just get this over with?”
Booker reached down and picked up the bottle of whiskey. “Here,” he said as he handed it to Hanson, “I don’t think my nerves can stand any more of your screaming. Take as much as you want, it’ll make it easier on both of us.”
Tom’s cheeks flamed red with embarrassment. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I know I’m being a baby but—”
“No!” Booker exclaimed in surprise and reaching out his hand, he gently cupped Tom’s face. “Tommy, that’s not what I meant. It hurts me to hear you in that much pain, that’s why it’s so difficult. I don’t think you’re being a baby, I think you’re being really brave.”
A second flush stained Tom’s cheeks and he ducked his head shyly. He knew that Dennis had feelings for him but the dark haired officer had no idea that he knew. He felt moved by the tenderness of his touch and the concern in his voice and he suddenly came to the true understanding of what it would feel like to be loved by Dennis Booker. He was obviously a man of deep compassion and sensitivity, two traits that he kept hidden from most of the world and Tom could not understand why. He briefly wondered if it was because he feared ridicule because of his sexuality. However, the thought was forgotten when he felt Dennis’ eyes boring into him and he quickly returned his mind to their present situation. Lifting his head, he gave a wan smile. “No I’m not,” he mumbled, "but thanks for saying so.”
A half smile played over Dennis’ lips. “Drink some more whiskey,” he commanded softly, "and then we can get started.”
Tom took two large gulps before handing the bottle back. “What now?” he asked in a slightly shaky voice.
Dennis stood up. “You need to lie on your back with your injured arm hanging over the bed.”
With Dennis’ help, Tom maneuvered into position. He was surprised when Dennis sat down just above his head but the reason became clear when gentle fingers began to stroke his hair.
“I need you to close your eyes and relax,” Booker instructed in a low, soothing voice. “The more relaxed you are, the easier it will be.”
Closing his eyes, Tom allowed the alcohol and Booker’s reassuring touch to lull him into calmness. His breathing slowed and he felt his body settle against the lumpy mattress. After several minutes, he felt a cold hand gently grasp hold of his wrist. Clenching his jaw, he let out a moan as Dennis slowly pulled his injured arm out to the side before maneuvering it over his head. When his arm was level with his shoulder, he held his breath as Dennis gradually rotated his hand until it was behind his head. Once in place, he felt a slight tugging as Dennis carefully pulled his hand towards his opposite shoulder. Within seconds, he felt his pain subside and he knew his shoulder was back in place. Tears of relief streamed down his face and he choked back a sob when he felt gentle fingers wiping them away. Opening his eyes, he gazed up into Booker’s face. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Dennis remained silent but his smile radiated the happiness he felt at seeing his beloved Tommy finally free from pain.
**
Once he was sure that Tom was comfortable, Dennis opened up his bag and pulled out the first-aid kit. He carefully examined the contents before setting aside a bottle of saline, swabs, adhesive dressings, an elastic bandage and a pair of scissors. After unwrapping the bandage from its plastic cover, he turned to Tom and gave him a smile. “I think we should immobilize your arm.”
Now that he was in less pain, Hanson returned the smile. “Whatever you think doc,” he joked.
Pulling out the bandage, Booker cut off a sufficient length and fashioned a cuff sling. Being careful not to hurt Tom, he placed the strap over his colleague’s uninjured shoulder and pulled the back end out from under the armpit of his opposite arm. He then gently slid Tom’s injured arm through the two loops he had tied at each end of the bandage, positioning one on his upper forearm and the other on his wrist. “Does it feel okay?” he asked worriedly as Tom allowed his arm to relax against the restraint.
Tom nodded. “It’s fine,” he replied through chattering teeth, "but I’m so fucking cold.”
Picking up Hanson’s jacket, Booker helped him put his uninjured arm through the sleeve and draped the other side over his shoulder. “Better?”
Even though the coat made little difference to how cold he was feeling, Tom kept quiet and nodded his head. He watched in silence as Booker picked up the saline bottle and soaked a swab with the solution. When the dark-haired officer began to dab at the wound on his forehead, he was surprised at the gentleness of his touch and he felt himself beginning to relax back against the lumpy pillows. Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh as Booker carefully cleaned his wound before placing an adhesive bandage over the cut.
Opening his eyes, he gazed at Booker’s bloodied face. “Your turn,” he instructed softly.
Dennis saturated a clean swab with the saline and silently handed it to Tom. His eyes remained fixed on Tom and the sight of the young man’s brow softly knitted in concentration as he daubed at the cut on his lip was so mesmerizing that he drew in a sharp intake of breath. Having Hanson’s hands touching him was what he had dreamed of and now that he was finally experiencing it, he felt completely overwhelmed with emotion.
Thinking that he had been too heavy handed, Tom gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I suck at playing doctor.”
Booker bit down on his lower lip and averted his eyes. “That’s okay,” he mumbled in pretense because the last thing he wanted to do was reveal that his reaction was due to the intimacy of Tom’s touch and not because he was in pain. He was certain that the information would not be well received by Tom if he revealed his true feelings and therefore, he needed to keep his emotions in check. They were getting along so well and he did not want to ruin it.
Once satisfied that Dennis’ wounds were clean, Tom tossed the bloodied swab onto the floor and wrapped his uninjured arm around his body in an effort to stay warm. “Any chance we could start a fire,” he asked Booker.
Dennis stood up and limped over to the fireplace. After a brief inspection, he turned back to Tom. “I’m pretty sure the chimney’s not blocked. I guess all I can do is try and hope for the best.”
Hanson settled back against the pillows and watched as Booker methodically crumpled up half a dozen sheets of newspaper and placed them in the fireplace. He then used the ax to chop up one of the rickety wooden chairs into pieces and kneeling down, he laid the kindling over the newspaper before crisscrossing larger pieces of wood over the top. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cigarette lighter and lit the newspaper. As the fire took hold, he slowly rose to his feet and hobbling over to the remaining chair, he sat down heavily. His body was starting to ache from the impact it had taken in the crash and he felt fatigued and emotional. Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. It was not a very comfortable position but he needed time to relax his tired body.
Just as he felt himself drifting off, he heard Tom’s quiet voice. “Dennis?”
Opening his eyes, he turned his gaze towards the bed. “What is it Hanson?” he asked wearily.
Tom’s mouth twitched into a nervous smile. “You don’t have to sleep on the chair. The bed’s big enough for the both of us.”
Booker tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“It’ll be warmer,” Tom replied practically and soft pink tinged his cheeks as he lowered his eyes and added, “You know, if we huddle together.”
Dennis’ stomach flip-flopped at the thought of holding Tom in his arms but he managed to keep his expression neutral. “Good idea,” he responded quietly.
With his heart hammering in his chest, he hauled himself to his feet and shuffled over to the bed. Lying down, he carefully wrapped his arms around Tom and held him close. He could feel Tom’s body trembling against him and closing his eyes, he breathed in the sweet scent of his hair. The experience was intoxicating and even though he was tired and sore, he was in heaven.
Once again he started to drift off before Tom’s soft voice pulled him back. “If someone finds the car, they won’t know where we are.”
Without opening his eyes, Booker snuggled in closer to Tom’s body. “I left a note,” he murmured. “Don’t worry, they’ll find us.”
Reassured by Dennis’ answer, Tom gazed at the flickering firelight until his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a deep sleep
- 6
- 7
- 8
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On the Wings of Maybe