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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
- 7
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- 9
Hanson arrived at the Chapel early the following morning, desperate for any news on Booker’s condition. When he walked in, he immediately spied Doug sitting at his desk but the anger he had felt the previous evening was still very raw and so, with head down, he ignored him and striding across the room, he stopped outside Fuller’s open door and knocked on the wooden paneling. “Hey Cap’n, can I talk to you?”
Adam Fuller looked up from his paperwork. “Of course Hanson,” he replied with a small smile, “come in.”
Tom walked in and after closing the door, he sat down in front of his superior. “Any word on Booker?” he asked immediately.
Tilting back his chair, Fuller tented his fingers under his chin. “I’ve spoken to his parents,” he advised. “He’s resting comfortably.”
Not about to be fobbed off with meaningless platitudes, Tom raked an impatient hand through his hair and pushed his Captain for more information. “What I mean is, how’s he coping mentally, ‘cause the doctor said in these kind of cases it was common for a victim of rape to—”
Fuller leaned forward in his chair. “Hold on there Hanson,” he interrupted softly. “Booker’s receiving the best care possible but as of now, we are no longer privileged to his medical information.”
A frown creased Tom’s smooth brow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“What it means,” Fuller replied with a patient sigh, “is that his parents have asked for privacy. They have instructed the hospital to keep visitors away and for Dennis’ treatment be kept confidential, even from the department. Of course, if he ever returns to the force he will have to speak to a psychologist who will be privy to all his medical records but—”
“Can they do that?” Tom asked in surprise. “I mean, can they really stop us from visiting?”
Fuller narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Tom’s anxious expression. He was honestly surprised at the level of his concern, as it was a well-known fact that Hanson and Booker had never been friends, if anything they went out of their way to antagonize each other. But he also knew Hanson was a compassionate and caring man and that finding Booker in the circumstances that he had would have shaken him to the very core of his being. Regardless of their mutual animosity, seeing Booker lying bloody and broken would have had a profound effect on Tom and it was understandable that he was concerned about his welfare. However, Fuller also knew that they needed to respect Dennis' parents' wishes. They knew their son better than anyone else did and if they believed Dennis needed his privacy, then they, as his colleagues, had to abide by the request. It could take a long time before Booker felt ready to return to the job he loved, if at all, but Fuller was hopefully that one day, he would be mentally fit enough to continue with what he believed was a promising career in the force.
Getting up from his chair, Fuller moved around his desk and laid a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “We need to do what’s right for Dennis,” he advised quietly. “He’s been through a lot and he’s a very proud and private man. It may be easier for him to go through this with only his family by his side, at least for the moment. Give him his space, I’m sure he knows we're all thinking of him.”
When Tom did not reply, he rested his backside on the edge of the desk and folding his arms across his chest, he gave his young officer a sympathetic look. “I’m recommending that you and Penhall speak to a therapist. What you witnessed must have affected you both.”
Tom lifted his head and his dark eyes shone with pain. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It was… brutal.”
Fuller nodded and as Tom stood up to leave, he rested a gentle hand on his arm. “My door’s always open Hanson, if you ever need to talk.”
Tears filled Tom’s eyes but he quickly blinked them away. “Thanks Coach,” he murmured and turning away, he walked from the room.
**
Doug sat at his desk and studied Tom’s bowed head. They had not spoken since their argument the night before and he wanted to make things right. Even though he knew he had not expressed himself very well, Tom’s violent reaction to his blundering words had surprised him. They were best friends and he thought Tom knew him well enough to know that he was not homophobic. However, if he was completely honest with himself, he really could not understand how gay men could do that to each other. As a straight man, it seemed so unnatural and he thought Tom would have felt the same way. He wished he had been able to express himself more articulately but that was not his way. He was clumsy with his words and his directness often landed him in trouble. However, he was a big enough man to admit when he was wrong and he regretted his boorish statement. It was obvious that Tom had needed a friend that night and his thoughtless words had done more harm than good. Therefore, it was up to him to offer the olive branch so that they could put it behind them and return their friendship to solid ground.
Getting up from his desk, he walked over to Tom and pulled up a chair. Turning it around, he straddled it backwards and rested his arms on the wooden back. “About last night, I’m sorry for what I said.”
Tom was not about to forgive that easily and lifting his head, he gazed angrily into Penhall’s passive face. “Really?” he asked in a rigid voice. “And what exactly are you sorry for Doug? Acting like a sixth grader or for being a homophobic prick?”
Doug stared at Tom in surprise. “Homophobic?” he spluttered. “C’mon Hanson, that’s not fair. You know me better than that.”
Tom tried to keep the hurt out of his eyes. “I thought I did,” he muttered. “But you obviously don’t think that two men should or could love each other.”
Rubbing his fingers across his mouth, Doug attempted to voice his thoughts without causing Hanson any further offence. “Okay, I admit it… it seems strange to me,” he replied slowly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m against it. I was just trying to express how Booker might be feeling, you know, as a heterosexual guy and knowing that a man had... I mean… he must be finding it difficult to deal with and you and I would feel exactly the same way… right? I mean, it’s just… well, it’s not… I mean—”
Tom held up his hand. “Stop!” he growled. “Just fucking stop. Jesus Christ Doug, why don’t you stop beating around the bush and just say it; the thought of two men having sex disgusts you. And by the way, you keep forgetting that what happened to Booker wasn’t about sex, it was rape and that’s a completely different thing.”
Raising an eyebrow, Doug gave Tom a quizzical look. “Okay, so what you’re saying is, two guys having consensual sex doesn’t bother you, is that it?”
Hanson realized he had backed himself into a corner and he needed to be careful what he said, otherwise his well-kept secret would be revealed and he was not ready to deal with the consequences. “I’m pro choice,” he muttered hurriedly. “If it’s consensual, why should it matter?”
Penhall studied Tom’s expression and he was somewhat surprised when he saw how uncomfortable he looked. However, he put it down to the shock of what they had witnessed the night before and therefore he decided to let the matter drop rather than try to make his point. “You’re right,” he replied, “it shouldn’t matter. I’m just being an ass.” His trademark lopsided grin curled his lips and he held out his hand. “Friends?”
Tom hesitated for a moment before reaching across his desk and shaking Doug’s hand. “Friends,” he conceded quietly.
Doug stood up and pushed his chair against the wall. “Drinks tonight?” he asked in the hopes that everything was back to normal.
A small smile twitched at Tom’s lips. “Sure.”
Satisfied that their friendship was back on track, Doug grinned happily and returned to his paperwork.
**
Booker lay on the bed with his eyes closed, the sound of his mother’s voice prattling incessantly about the trivialities of life slowly driving him insane. She complained about the length of the plane journey, the terrible food, the hotel’s wallpaper and the L.A. traffic. On and on she chattered until he felt like screaming at her to shut the fuck up, that she was interrupting his happy thoughts in the imaginary place in his mind where he did not have to deal with everything that had happened to him. However, he remained silent in the hope that she would believe he was asleep and would finally leave him in peace. He felt more alone when she was in the room because he could not relate to her, he no longer felt like her son, in fact he did not feel like a man at all. He was a mere shadow inhabiting the body of the man he once was, the man who had been a happy, healthy and capable human being, the man who had lived his life to the fullest, the man who had died on the floor of the cage in the basement. He had not died in the physical sense of course, but in the mental sense, in the sense that his soul had been irreparably damaged by a brutal, sadistic psychopath. The Dennis Booker that had existed a week ago was gone and a ghost was all that remained. He was now nothing more than a distant memory… he was a reflection of his former self.
The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts and moments later he felt a gentle hand touch his arm. “Dennis, are you awake? We need to do another internal exam just to make sure everything's okay.”
He could hear his mother’s voice rising in pitch. “Can’t you just leave him alone to heal? Must you keep reminding him of his injuries?”
His eyes remained closed as he listened to the nurse explain to his mother that it was necessary that they keep checking that he was healing internally. The two women exchanged words for several minutes before his mom announced that she was going to get a cup of coffee. He again felt the warm caress of the nurse’s hand and opening his eyes, he saw a young woman smiling down at him. “Doctor Fenton will perform the exam but I’ll be right here with you,” she instructed in a soft voice and taking his hand in hers, she gently squeezed his fingers. “You just keep looking at me and it’ll soon be over.”
Heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor and Fenton strode into the room. He pulled the curtain around the bed and spoke in a brusque voice. “Roll onto your side Mr. Booker and draw your knees up to your chest.”
Dennis did as the doctor asked, his eyes never leaving the young nurse’s face. He heard the sound of a rubber glove snapping onto outstretched fingers and he bit down hard on his lower lip. When a cool, slick finger pressed against him, he flinched involuntarily and his eyes grew wide with fear as his breathing became ragged. “Relax,” the doctor instructed in a no nonsense voice and without pause, he pushed his finger inside.
Tears of pain and humiliation filled Booker’s eyes and he stifled a sob as the doctor probed him internally. “Shh,” the nurse murmured sympathetically. “It’s okay, it’ll all be over soon.”
After what seemed to Dennis to be an eternity, the doctor finally withdrew his finger and ripping off the glove, he threw it into the trashcan under the small hand basin and addressed the nurse. “The anal tearing is healing well, so I’m recommending that he be moved to the psych ward tomorrow. I’ll write up the paperwork,” and without giving Dennis a second glance, he turned on his heal and left the room.
“Asshole,” the nurse muttered under her breath as she pulled the covers over Dennis’ naked backside. “Are you okay honey? Is there anything I can get you?”
But Dennis’ eyes were again closed and his imagination had already returned to the happy place that kept him from losing his mind completely.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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To Chase a Feather in the Wind