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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Ten weeks later
Tom leaned forward in his chair and gave his Captain a worried look. “Are you sure he’s fit for duty? It’s only been a couple of months since… well, you know.”
“He’s been given the all clear by the departmental psychologist,” Fuller replied, “and I think it will be good for him to get back to work. But it’s up to you Hanson, if you don’t want to be partnered with him—”
“No, no!” Tom replied hurriedly as he rubbed a hand over his mouth. ‘I’m fine with it Coach, honest. It’s just… I want to know what I’m dealing with. I mean, what am I supposed to say to him?”
A small smile played over Fuller’s lips. It was so like Hanson to over analyze everything. “You don’t have to say anything to him Hanson,” he counseled. “Just treat him the same way you always have.”
Tom’s lip twitched uncomfortably and he lowered his gaze. “Booker and I have never really treated each other with much respect Cap’n, maybe I’m not the right person to help him transition back into the job.”
Fuller stood up and walked around his desk until he was standing next to Tom. “You’re exactly the right person,” he replied quietly. “You don’t see it but you and Booker are very alike. If anyone can help him through this, you can.”
Tom lifted his head. “Do you really think so?” he asked in surprise.
Fuller smiled. “I know so.”
**
The following day
A sudden hush fell over the Chapel and looking up from his paperwork, Tom saw Booker walking across the room with his head bowed and his eyes glued firmly to the floor. He immediately felt a pang of pain for his colleague and he quickly returned his attention to the report he was typing. Moments later, the steady hum of voices resumed across the operations room and he sighed with relief. Glancing covertly sideways, he saw Dennis sitting at his desk, looking lost and uncomfortable. Tapping his pen distractedly, he attempted to think up an excuse to go over and talk to him without looking like he was taking pity, but he came up blank. He glanced over at Doug and catching his eye, he raised an eyebrow. Doug returned a look filled with compassion but he had no answers for Tom and so he shrugged his shoulders in response.
Just as Tom was becoming desperate, Adam Fuller walked out of his office. “Booker, Hanson, I’ve got an assignment for you.”
Booker’s face registered surprise and he quickly glanced over at Tom. He received a smile in return and for a fraction of a second, his own lips twitched up at the corners before his expression sobered and he lowered his gaze. “Coming Cap’n,” he muttered.
The two young officers walked into Fuller’s office and remained standing as their superior closed the door before taking a seat behind his desk and addressing Dennis with a smile. “Welcome back Booker. We’ve missed having you here.”
Tom marveled at his Captain’s relaxed tone and he wished he possessed the same qualities. Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, he turned and smiled awkwardly at his colleague. “Yeah, it’s good to have you back.”
Lowering his gaze, Booker shoved his hands deep into his pockets and shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushing a soft pink, “it’s good to be back.”
Sensing Dennis’ discomfort, Fuller immediately got down to business and picking up two manila folders, he handed them to the two young officers. “The case is straightforward enough. Sporting equipment is going missing from a local high school in a poor neighborhood. There’s a rumor that a rival school is responsible so you’ll go undercover at that school and see what you can find out. You’ll start Monday, any questions?”
“Nope,” Tom replied as he thumbed through the paperwork, “it seems pretty simple.”
Booker opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it again. He remained silent for several long moments before eventually replying, “No Cap’n, like Hanson said, it seems pretty simple.”
“Good,” Fuller replied with a broad smile that highlighted his perfect white teeth, “that’s all.”

Walking out into the hubbub of the main area, Tom followed Booker back to his desk and pulling up a chair, he sat down. “So, do you want to meet up for a drink tonight so we can discuss strategy?”
Booker’s body sat rigid in his chair and his lower lip pushed into a petulant pout. “You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me just because of what happened,” he muttered in a moody voice. “I know you don’t like me.”
An amused smile twitched at Tom’s lips. If only you knew, he thought, but he did not voice his inner musings. Instead, he let out a small chuckle. “You know me better than that Booker. Do you really think I’d pretend to be nice to you just to make you feel better?”
Booker’s lips curled at the edges and he relaxed back into his chair. “No, I guess not,” he conceded. “But you and I both know this case is bullshit. Fuller’s just testing me to make sure I’m okay out in the field and you drew the short straw as my babysitter.”
Tom’s eyes shone with sympathy. “Maybe,” he replied quietly, “but not every case is catching a drug dealer or saving some kid from abu…” He stopped before the word abuse finished forming on his lips. “Jesus Booker, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
A heavy sigh escaped Booker’s lips. “And there it is, the quick backpedal and apology ‘cause you’re scared you might have upset me. I don’t want your sympathy Hanson, I want you to treat me the way you always have.”
A smile spread over Tom’s face. “So what you’re saying is, you want me to treat you with scorn and indifference, is that it?” he teased.
Dennis managed a small laugh. “Yeah okay, I get your point. But I mean it Hanson, I don’t want you treating me like I’m fragile, ‘cause I’m not, I’m fine. I’ve put everything that happened behind me and I’m moving on.”
Tom stood up. “Sure,” he replied, not quite believing Booker’s words but not willing to start an argument. “So we’ll meet at the BoHo at seven?”
Booker nodded in agreement but as Hanson started to walk away, he called him back. “Tommy?”
Hanson turned around in surprise. Booker never called him Tommy and he felt a stirring in his groin. “What is it Dennis?” he asked quietly.
Booker glanced around the room and when he was certain that they could not be overheard, his eyes filled with gratitude and he rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Thanks for finding me,” he murmured.
Tom’s expression softened and his eyes shone with emotion. “You’re welcome.”
**
The Friday night crowd were out in force and the BoHo was packed with noisy twenty-somethings letting their hair down after a busy working week. Tom pushed his way through the mass of well-dressed young professionals, being careful not to spill any beer from the pitcher in his hand. He climbed up the staircase to the quieter lounge area and he quickly spotted Booker sitting in a corner booth, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He strode over, placed the jug and glasses on the table and shrugging out of his jacket, he threw it onto the leather seat and sat down. Booker filled their glasses and after handing one to Tom, he raised his in salute. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Tom repeated before taking a large gulp of beer. He sighed contentedly as the cool liquid slid down his throat and slouching in his seat, he stuck his legs out in front of him and relaxed back against the comfort of the cushions. “Fuck that’s good,” he breathed.
Booker flashed him a smile. “Tough week?”
Tom’s relaxed expression became strained and he took another swig of his drink. “Tough few months,” he replied quietly. “Sleep doesn’t come as easy as it used to.”
They were not the words Booker expected to hear and for the first time since joining the Jump Street program, he actually felt as though he belonged, that someone really cared about him. Tom’s compassion touched his heart and he felt himself warming to the man he had taken an almost instant dislike to since their disastrous first case together. Stubbing out his cigarette, he exhaled the final lungful of smoke and stared down at the table. “Yeah,” he muttered as he continued to grind the butt into the glass ashtray, “not exactly the best few months for me either.”
Tom suddenly felt like an ass and reaching out, he laid his hand on Booker’s wrist. “Sorry,” he apologized, “that was stupid. You’ve been through hell and here I am complaining ‘cause I’m suffering from a bout of insomnia.”
Once again, Dennis was surprised at the level of Tom’s empathy. He never would have believed that his rape could have affected Hanson so profoundly and yet when he looked deep into the brown eyes gazing at him from across the table, he could see how tortured he really was by what he had witnessed in the basement of Conan’s house. Tom was not the one-dimensional pretty boy that he had pegged him for and he suddenly understood what Penhall saw in him. He was actually deeply empathetic but because he was private with his feelings, he often came across as indifferent to the suffering of those around him. It was a revelation for Booker and he found himself liking Hanson even more because of his faults and not in spite of them. Tom was actually more like him than he realized and he began to wonder if they really could be friends.
Pulling his thoughts back to the present, he became aware that Tom was studying him quizzically and he grinned in embarrassment. “Sorry, I guess my mind wandered off for a moment.”
Tom let go of Dennis’ wrist and topped up their glasses. He really wanted Booker to confide in him, to tell him how he was feeling so he could help him through the tough days ahead. However, he was wary of coming on too strong too soon. They had barely uttered a word outside of work and he knew very little about the man sitting in front of him but he hoped that with time, all that would change. Even though he knew he would never hold Dennis in his arms and love him in the way that he so desperately yearned, since the kidnapping, he knew that he did want him in his life, just as he had Doug in his life. He wanted that friendship, that closeness but most importantly, he wanted to be there to help him to come to terms with all that had happened. He wanted to be his rock.
Picking up one of the cardboard coasters advertising various lagers, he nervously began to rip at the soggy edges. Several minutes passed in an uncomfortable silence before Dennis pulled the tattered coaster out of his hand and threw it onto the table. “If you want to ask, just ask,” he sanctioned with a sigh. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Heat flushed Tom’s cheeks and he rubbed a nervous hand over his mouth. “I don’t want to pry,” he muttered.
Booker drained his glass and pushed it to one side. “I’m okay Hanson, I’ve come to terms with what happened to me and I’ll be damned if I’ll let that sonofabitch ruin my life anymore than he already has. I’m still seeing my shrink so you don’t have to worry, I’m not about to go crazy on you.”
Tom’s lip twitched nervously at the corner. “I didn’t mean…”
“I know you didn’t,” Booker replied quickly. “But I just wanted to get it out in the open, especially if we’re going to be working together. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, because I doubt it was your choice to be partnered with me in the first place.”
Once again, the words if only you knew, popped into Tom’s mind and he suppressed a smile. So far, his meeting with Booker was going well and he hoped that in time, they would become more comfortable in each other’s presence and their friendship would begin to blossom.
**
Arriving back at his apartment, Dennis closed the door and tossed his keys into the bowl on the adjacent bookcase. Walking into his small kitchenette, he pulled out a beer and picked up the vial of Xanax he had procured from an immoral doctor who was happy to prescribe prescription drugs as long as money exchanged hands. Shaking two .5mg pills into his hand, he swallowed them down with a swig of beer. He knew he was walking a treacherous tight rope, alprazolam mixed with alcohol was a dangerous combination and adding the cocaine he had purchased from a dealer the day before could put his life at risk. But he did not care. He had managed to put up a convincing front for his psychologist, Fuller and Hanson but in reality, he was on a knife’s edge. Conan’s face haunted his dreams, taunting him, whispering at him, telling him that he would find him and when he did, he would never let him go… never. That, coupled with the confusion of his actions during the time the deranged psychopath had held him captive, had him teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown. He had succumbed to his rapist, but what was most disturbing were the conflicting feelings he had felt. His body had reacted to the sexual stimulation and his orgasms had been some of the most explosive he had ever experienced. Of course, he had revealed none of this to his therapist; he was too smart for that. Instead, he told the people around him what they wanted to hear; he was fine, he was still seeking help and with time, he would recover. That was his mantra and so far, everyone believed him, including the one person he had never expected to fool… Tom.
Chugging down his beer, he threw the empty bottle into the trash and pulling his t-shirt over his head, he walked into his bedroom. The effects of the Xanax were starting to take hold and kicking off his boots, he finished undressing and pulling back the blanket, he climbed under the covers where his mind once again returned to Tom. He had been surprised at the young officer's friendliness but he was also extremely grateful for it. Tom had been his savior and the one person who did not seem to shy away from him, even after the horror he had witnessed in the basement, and he admired him for that. Not many men would be able to look him in the eye after seeing what Tom had seen. It was comforting but also a little unnerving. Hanson was the last person he ever expected to offer him the hand of friendship but now that he had, he hoped that their bond would continue to grow. He missed having close friends, he had left most of them behind when he had moved to California to become a police officer and he had never really connected with anyone since then. But it looked like all that was about to change and for that, he was truly thankful.
His eyelids grew heavy and relaxing his body against the mattress, he let out a sigh. He could feel the drugs taking over his weary mind and closing his eyes, he prayed that Conan’s face would not disturb his dreams and that he would finally get a decent night's sleep.
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To Chase a Feather in the Wind