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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Arriving at work, Booker found The Chapel relatively peaceful. It was only a few days until Spring Break and as most of their work revolved around being undercover in high schools and colleges, it was usual for things to start quieting down during mid-term. Noticing Penhall sitting at his desk typing up a report, Dennis wondered if Doug had tried to contact Tom. It occurred to him that because Hanson was now staying at his apartment, he would not know if his friends were trying to get in touch with him. Booker suddenly began to question whether isolating Tom from his family and friends was in fact, the right thing to do.
Walking over to the coffee machine, he overheard Judy talking to Harry. “The trouble with Hanson is he can never ask anyone for help.”
Harry nodded in agreement. “I know what you mean. He always has to do everything himself. I was in Riverbend too and I know how tough it was. But when I came out, I spoke to Fuller about it and—”
Booker angrily interrupted Ioki. “We were in there for two fucking days Harry. I think maybe you need to cut Hanson some slack.”
Raising an amused eyebrow at Harry, Hoffs laughed lightly. “Wow Booker, I never expected to hear you jumping to Hanson’s defense! There must be pigs flying somewhere.”
Scowling, Dennis pushed roughly past the two officers. “Yeah? And I never expected you and Harry to be so…”
Gripping hold of Booker’s arm, Harry spun him around. “So what Booker? If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
Snatching his arm away, Dennis was about to tell Harry exactly what he thought of him but he took a deep breath and calmed himself. He had made Hanson a promise and if he suddenly started defending him, it would raise suspicion among their colleagues. Everyone at Jump Street knew that the two officers had a mutual dislike for each other. It secretly used to make Dennis smile because he had neverdisliked Tom, it had been the exact opposite. But it was easier to pretend indifference towards Hanson than it was to admit that he had feelings for the young officer. Now that he and Tom were living in such close proximity, he needed to make sure he did not drop his façade. “Nothing,” he replied coolly to Harry’s question. “I had a rough night, I just need some coffee.”
Taking Judy by the arm, Harry escorted her away as they both whispered furiously about Booker’s odd behavior. Sighing, Dennis poured himself a cup of steaming coffee and returned to his desk. He needed to be more careful about defending Tom, otherwise he might have a lot of explaining to do.
**
Arriving back at his apartment just after lunch, Booker unlocked his door and threw the keys in the metal bowl. He had asked for the afternoon off and was actually surprised when Fuller had granted his request. Looking around, he was concerned when he didn't see Tom watching TV. Frowning, he walked into the bedroom and then the bathroom, only to find both rooms empty. He quickly cast his eye around the living area, looking for a note. He finally found it attached to the refrigerator by a magnet.
Thanks for everything, I’m okay now. Tom
Screwing the note up into a ball, Booker threw it angrily into the trashcan. He should have known that Tom would leave as soon he left the apartment. Fear suddenly gripped his heart as he remembered the bloody razor blade that Hanson had swiftly hidden the night before. Grabbing up his keys, he ran from his apartment and down the four flights of stairs to the underground car park. With his tires squealing, he raced out into the afternoon traffic towards Tom’s apartment. The words I’m okay now kept racing around his mind. He knew that Hanson was anything but okay and all he could do was hope that Tom had not done anything stupid.
Double parking outside Tom’s apartment, Booker ignored the angry cries from the Honda owner and sprinted inside. Racing up two flights of stairs, he banged loudly on Hanson’s door. “Open up Hanson! Open the fucking door NOW!”
The door opened and Hanson stood swaying drunkenly as he held onto the door for support. “Why you makin’ so much noise?” he slurred. “You’re gonna piss off the neighbors.”
Pushing his way inside, Booker could not contain his anger. “Why the FUCK did you…” he started to yell before his eyes noticed Tom’s arm covered in blood from the fresh cuts he had inflicted. His voice dropped to a whisper and his eyes filled with tears. “Oh Jesus Tommy.”
Hanson staggered back to the couch and picked up the almost empty bottle of whiskey. “CHEERS!” he yelled, raising the bottle and draining it. When it was empty, he stared at it angrily before throwing it against the wall. As the glass smashed, he grinned manically. “More alcohol!” he hollered. Stumbling into the kitchen, he threw open the refrigerator door and started tossing condiments onto the floor, mumbling incoherently to himself.
Dennis watched on in horror. He felt as though he was witnessing a train wreck, he was unable to take his eyes off Tom and his body seemed powerless to move. When Hanson found the beer he had been looking for, Booker finally acted. Stepping through the debris of food and broken bottles littering the kitchen floor, he gently pulled the bottle out of Tom’s hand. “No more,” he instructed calmly. “This isn’t helping.”
Without warning, Tom punched his fist into the side of Booker’s head. Crying out in pain, Booker fell backwards onto the floor, clutching his head in his hands. The beer bottle smashed to the floor, covering his legs in liquid. Dennis’ vision blurred but he could see Tom swaying in front of him, barely able to remain on his feet. Knowing he had to act swiftly, Booker staggered to his feet and before Hanson could react, he slammed his fist into Tom’s jaw. Already unsteady on his feet, Hanson hit the floor hard and pieces of broken glass dug into his already damaged arms. As Dennis’ vision cleared, he saw Tom staring up at him in confusion. He watched silently as a single tear trickled down Tom’s beautiful face. Feeling like a complete bastard, Booker felt his own tears pricking at his eyes. Stepping forward, he offered Hanson his hand but Tom ignored it. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” Hanson snapped, trying desperately to scramble to his feet.
Reaching down, Booker lifted Tom to a standing position. When Hanson did not resist, he led him through the detritus covering the floor and over to the couch. Holding Tom’s arm in his hand, he gently picked out several pieces of broken glass. Returning to the kitchen, he opened and closed cupboards until he found a first aid kit. Sitting back down, he took out a bandage and carefully wrapped it around Tom’s bleeding arm. He slowly repeated the procedure on Hanson’s other arm and when he had finished, he sat back and gave Tom a hard stare. “This needs to stop Tommy, you need help.”
Hanson’s lower lip started to quiver and his bluster started to fade. “Oh God Dennis,” he whispered, as tears spilled from his bewildered eyes. “I’m falling apart.”
“It’s okay,” Booker replied as Tom began to weep openly. “We’re going to find you some help.” Pulling the young officer into his arms, he once again wondered if by keeping Tom’s secret he was actually causing Hanson more harm.
**
Having grabbed up various articles of clothing and toiletries and throwing them into a bag for Tom, Dennis cast a furtive glance at the answering machine. A red zero flashed, signaling that there were no messages. Sadness filled Booker’s heart, he could not believe that Penhall had made no contact with Tom. The two officers were best friends and Dennis would have thought that Doug of all people should have known that there was something very wrong with the way Tom had behaved after his release from Riverbend.
On the drive back to his apartment, Booker needed to stop the car several times so Tom could be sick. Neither man spoke on the short journey through the busy city streets. Opening the door to his apartment, Booker watched silently as Tom entered and went straight into the bedroom and closed the door. Throwing Hanson’s bag onto the floor, Dennis wondered if it would be best to leave Tom alone but thoughts of bloody razor blades flashed into his mind. Reaching down and picking up Tom’s bag, he opened the bedroom door.
Tom was lying on his side, his knees curled up to his chest. Booker thought how small and vulnerable Hanson looked and he quickly pushed away images of Tom struggling to free himself from his attackers. Placing the bag down next to the closet, he sat on the edge of the bed. Tom made no signs that he was aware of his presence and Dennis waited several minutes before speaking. “We need to talk.”
“I’m sick,” Tom mumbled into his pillow.
“Yeah well, drinking a bottle of whiskey will do that to you,” Booker teased lightly before again turning serious. “You’re spiraling out of control Tommy. The drinking, the cutting, you need to talk to someone, a professional.”
Tom sat up slowly, his face slightly green with nausea. “I don’t want to talk to someone, I want to deal with it in my own way,” he muttered irritably. “And if you don’t like it, maybe you should leave me the hell alone instead of keep coming around to my apartment and dragging me back here.”
Booker sighed heavily. “I’m trying to help you Tom. Why won’t you let me help you?”
Hanson did not reply, instead he lay back down and turned his back to Dennis. After several minutes passed, Booker stood up and left the room.
**
Not in the mood to cook, Booker ordered pizza from his favorite pizza bar. When it arrived, he checked on Tom to see if he was hungry but he found him fast asleep under the covers. Sitting back drinking a beer after polishing off most of the pie, he turned around when he heard the bedroom door open. Tom emerged looking sleepy and rather unwell. Before Booker could say anything, Tom bolted into the bathroom and Dennis could hear him throwing up. When he heard the toilet flush, he got up and knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.
“Yeah, just give me a minute,” Tom replied as he turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over his face. Staring into the mirror above the sink, Hanson was shocked at how pale his face was. He glanced down at his bandages and saw that blood had already seeped through the white gauze and he instantly became aware of a dull throbbing in his arms. His stomach churned and dropping to his knees, he once again vomited into the toilet. Hot tears sprang to his eyes as he sobbed and heaved until his stomach was empty. Flushing the lavatory, he stood up on shaky legs and hanging onto the sink for support, he once more rinsed his face and mouth with water. When his legs felt steady, he opened the door and exited into the living room.
Booker was leaning against the back of the couch, his arms crossed in front of him. When Tom emerged, he stepped forward, his expression compassionate. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he murmured.
Tom nodded, too frail to trust himself to speak without breaking down. Sitting down, he curled his legs under him and laid his head on the arm of the couch. He felt the black hole of depression sucking him in but he was powerless to stop it. He knew Booker was trying to help him but he did not know how to accept the help. The thought of talking about his ordeal was too much for him to bear and he wanted nothing more than to try to forget that it had ever happened. Closing his eyes, he could feel Matty’s warm breath against his neck as he whispered, “See you tonight gorgeous boy,” and another wave of nausea washed over him. He instinctively started to scratch at the bandaging covering his arm but he felt Booker’s fingers gently take his hand and pull it away. Opening his eyes, he saw Dennis’ worried face staring back at him and he managed a watery smile. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I know you’re only trying to help.”
“Then let me,” Booker answered back quietly. When Tom did not answer, Dennis let out a loud sigh. He needed to be careful not to push Hanson away by being too demanding but he also knew that if he sat back and did nothing, Tom’s fragile mental state could snap completely. Booker was starting to realize just how precarious the situation was and he wished he had someone to talk to about his concerns.
Looking down at Tom’s pale, miserable face, Booker started to think that maybe he would have to break his promise if he had any hope of saving his friend.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Poor Tom