St. Francis

The Jump Street cops stood in the doorway to Hanson's room. Mrs. Hanson lay on the small cot Penhall used during his month long vigil at Hanson's bedside. Penhall had not moved from his seat and now held Hanson, who was almost totally lost in a mass of pale blue hospital blankets. Penhall looked up when he heard his friends come into the room.

"Where were you guys?" Penhall asked quietly.

Booker sat down and sighed. Raven rubbed his shoulders. Hoffs and Ioki hurried over to the table that still held the five Big Macs and French fries. They grabbed the now cold hamburgers and stuffed them in their faces. Fuller snagged the remaining three and passed them out to Booker and Raven.

"The Jump Street Unit was temporarily assigned to the FBI to aid in the capture of the person suspected of supplying Chuck Paulson with the material used in the Jump Street Chapel bombing," Raven said.

"Why wasn't I told?" Penhall demanded.

"Doug," Fuller spoke up. "You were with Tom. He and Mrs. Hanson needed you at that moment."

Penhall frowned at the group. Booker propped his foot up on the edge of Hanson's bed. "What did you do to your foot, Dennis?" Penhall asked. Booker opened his mouth, but Raven cut him off.

"Dennis was injured during the apprehension of the suspect," Raven said proudly.

"How?"

"A rat bit me," Dennis smirked. Hoffs looked over at the sleeping Mrs. Hanson.

"What happened to Amanda?" Judy asked.

"The doctor gave her some Valium," Penhall answered.

"Why?"

"When Doctor Rays told her about Tom," Penhall paused and shivered. "She lost it. Totally lost it."

"Oh, poor Amanda," Hoffs sat on the edge of the bed. "How is Tom?"

"Sleeping," Penhall glanced down at Hanson�s pasty face. "So, did you guys arrest the perp?" he asked.

"No,� Booker answered. "I thought I'd save the government the cost of a trial."

"Dennis!" Raven scolded. She faced Penhall. "The dude was heavily armed and shooting at us," she explained. She draped an arm around Booker. Dennis kissed her arm.

Penhall rocked back and forth, humming softly. He lightly stroked Hanson's back. The officers exchanged worried look. Dennis leaned forward.

"Doug, why don�t you put Tom down? I need some coffee, and I want to talk to you alone."

Penhall gently laid Hanson on the small hospital bed and tucked the covers around him. Dennis struggled to his feet and motioned for Penhall to go ahead of him.

Dennis sat down in the hospital cafeteria. Penhall placed two large coffees on the table, then plopped down in the seat across the table from Dennis. He eyed Booker as the black-haired cop lit up a cigarette.

"What did you need to talk to me about?" Penhall growled.

Booker sipped his coffee. "How are you holding up, Doug?"

"What do you mean?" Penhall glared at Booker.

"You're Tom's best friend! This has to be hell for you."

Doug dumped sugar into his coffee. Then, he shredded the packets. "I'm OK. I mean, Hanson's awake and it'll only be a short time before he's back on his feet . . . I'll bet that the Chapel will be rebuilt by then," Penhall looked almost happy.

Booker opened his mouth, then shut it. Dennis gulped down the scalding coffee and stubbed out his cigarette. He struggled to his feet and limped out of the cafeteria.

Raven yawned as she leaned against the wall. She had wandered out of Hanson's room to give the friends their privacy. "Hey, Sweetie," She smiled sleepily when she saw Booker. She straightened up when she saw the worried looked on Booker's face. "What's wrong?"

"It's Penhall. I think he's losing it," Dennis whispered. He stopped as Penhall strolled by and entered Hanson's room.

"Let's discuss this at home," Raven suggested. She stuck her head in the door and said, "Hey, Dennis and I are gonna blow this place. See ya tomorrow!" She and Dennis got onto her motorcycle.

Raven pulled her motorcycle into a slot behind Booker's apartment. She helped Dennis off the bike and the pair hopped up the stairs. Once inside, they collapsed on the couch. Raven laid her head on Dennis' shoulder.

"Long day," Raven commented.

"And we'll be in for more of them," Booker said grimly.

The young FBI agent looked up at Booker. "Sweetie, what is it?" She hugged Dennis' muscular arm.

"I don't think that Doug has accepted all that's happened to Tom. He was . . . happy. Well, happier than he's been in a month," he said. "He said that it would only be a short time until Tom was back on his feet. Like everything would be back to normal," Booker bunched his hands into fists.

"Easy," Raven murmured and rubbed Booker's powerful shoulders. She nuzzled his neck. "There's nothing that can be done tonight."

"What do you think I should do?" Booker tilted his head back so he could see Raven.

"Talk privately with Fuller. I'm willing to bet that he'll have the same concerns."

"Thanks, babe." Dennis smiled up at Raven.

Raven kissed the top of Booker's dark head. She continued her massage of Booker's shoulders. "Let's go to bed, sweetie," She grinned wickedly. Booker reached over his head and pulled her onto his lap. Raven yelped in the surprise, then giggled as Booker kissed her neck.

Early morning sunlight played over the sleeping figures of Dennis Booker and Raven Kray. Dennis grumbled and pulled the rumpled covers over his head. Raven murmured and buried her head into Booker's chest. Neither heard the key scrape in the lock on the front door.

Gina Booker shook her head as she entered her only child's apartment. She picked up the clothes that littered the living room. Gina carefully folded a pair of tight jeans and laid them on the back of the couch. She added Booker�s old Harley tee shirt to the pile. Gina picked up the next article of clothing and cried out. A lacy black bra dangled from her fingers.

"Oh, no!" Gina whispered as she stormed into Dennis' bedroom. "What is going on here?" she roared as she stood in the doorway. A sleepy Booker looked up.

"Ma?" He asked, then yawned. Raven opened her eyes and blinked.

"Is this yours?" Gina waved the bra in Dennis' face.

"I don't think I'd need an underwire bra, ma," Dennis answered, half asleep. Gina snarled and struck her son with the bra. "Wha?" Dennis sat up. The blanket fell off his chest and exposed Raven in the process. Raven sat up and covered herself with the blanket.

"What is going on here?" Raven asked, fully awake.

"Why are you doing in my son�s bed?" Gina demanded.

"Sleeping,� Raven answered. Booker hid a smile as his mother's face turned deep red.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Special Agent Raven Kray, FBI, Mrs. Booker," Raven answered. "We met on the night of the Jump Street chapel bombing." Booker shivered slightly when Raven mentioned the bombing. Raven reached over and lightly kissed his cheek. Gina glanced at Raven's left hand and saw no ring.

"How long have you been . . ." Gina frowned. "with my son?"

"A month, ma'am," Raven answered.

"Ma," Booker preempted the tirade he knew was coming. "What are you doing here so early in the morning?"

"Your captain dropped off your motorcycle at my house last night," Gina answered. "Why did Captain Fuller have your motorcycle?" Dennis leaned against his pillows and sighed.

"Yesterday was a long day, Ma," Dennis answered honestly. "I was too tired to ride it home. Raven and I doubled up on her bike."

"Does Captain Fuller live near you?" Raven asked.

"He lives right across the street from me," Gina answered. Booker shifted his body and part of the blanket slid off, exposing his injured foot. She glanced at Booker's foot and saw the bandage. Then she looked at the raw cut on Booker�s face. "What happened to you?"

"That," Booker pointed to his foot and lightly traced the wound on his cheek. "was part of the long day, Ma."

"Are you alright, baby?" Gina sat on the edge of the bed, her anger forgotten.

"I'm fine, ma," Dennis smiled. "I just won't be dancing for a while, that's all."

"How is Tom Hanson doing?" Gina asked quietly.

"He's awake, but he's not out of the woods yet," Dennis closed his eyes as he felt tears threatening to form. Raven stroked Dennis' wild, dark hair and laid his head on her bare shoulder.

"What do you mean, he's not out of the woods yet?" Gina asked.

"Remember the night . . ." Booker's voice trailed off. "The night the chapel was destroyed? Remember the doctor said that Tom had suffered damage to his eyes?"

"He's blind, isn't he?" Gina whispered.

"Yeah," Booker frowned.

"Oh, poor thing! How is Amanda taking this?"

"Not too well," Raven spoke up. "She had to be sedated."

"Poor dear. This hasn't been easy on her," Gina sighed, remembering the long nights she spent with Amanda Hanson after the bombing. "First she loses her husband, and now this happens to her son."

"How did Tom's dad die?" Raven asked.

"He was shot during an armed robbery at a coffee shop when Tom was sixteen. Jack Hanson was on duty at the time. They never caught the guy," Booker answered.

"Poor guy," Raven commented. "Did Tom see his dad die?"

"No. Tom was at a Valentine's Day dance when it happened," Booker answered her.

Gina cleared her throat. "Is Amanda at the hospital?"

"She was last night. She was still out from the sedatives when Raven and I left," Booker said. "So she might still be there."

Gina Booker stood up. "I should head over there. Has anyone called Mick Penhall?"

"I don�t know," Booker answered honestly.

Gina paused at the door and stared at her only child. "Dennis, I still want to talk to you about what I saw today."

Booker flopped back against his pillow. "I'm dead!" he squeaked.

St. Francis

Booker and Raven pulled into the hospital parking lot. Booker swore softly when he saw a dark green Honda in the parking lot.

"What's wrong?" Raven asked.

"Ma's here," Booker sighed. He lit up a cigarette. "And she's probably already told everyone about what happened earlier." Raven stared at Booker with large eyes.

"I don't get it. I don't get it at all," Raven shook her blonde head.

'Ma's Catholic and conservative. She doesn't believe in people of the opposite sex seeing each other from between ten at night and ten in the morning unless they're married."

"So, seeing us in bed together at six in the morning . . ."

"Freaked her out totally," Dennis finished for her. "It's like the eighth deadly sin or something to her."

"Oh," Raven winced. "I never knew . . ."

"Ma's a good woman, don't get me wrong. It's been hard on her since Dad disappeared five years ago," Booker looked up at the sky.

"What happened to your dad?"

"No one knows. He just vanished one day. No note, nothing," Dennis sighed. Raven rubbed his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie,� Raven stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Just then, Fuller pulled into the slot next to the couple. The tall captain shut off the engine and opened the door.

"Yo, Captain!" Dennis called out. "Thanks a lot!"

"For what?" Fuller stood next to the couple. A puzzled look crossed his dark face.

"For getting Ma after me! She came over at six in the morning and found Raven and I in bed together," Dennis smirked. He knocked an ash off the tip of the cigarette.

"What were you two doing?" Fuller asked.

"Sleeping," Dennis answered. "But she found our clothes scattered all over the living room, and . . ." His voice trailed off as his captain blushed. Raven laughed.

Fuller cleared his throat and mumbled, "Sorry about that."

"It's alright, Captain. I knew I'd have to tell Ma some day," Dennis paused, then said, "Adam, we have a problem."

"What?" Fuller asked, instantly serious.

"It's Penhall," Booker stated, then proceeded to tell Fuller about last night's conversation with Penhall.

"I see. Have you told anyone else about this?"

"Raven."

"Let's keep this between the three of us. I'll have a private talk with Penhall once we get to Tom's room," Fuller answered.

"OK." Booker swung his leg off his Harley. He tested his weight on his injured foot.

"Where are Judy and Harry?" he asked, looking around.

"Car shopping," Fuller answered. Hoffs and Ioki had only recently been relieved of their burdensome casts. "I dropped them off at the car lot about an hour ago."

"I bet they're excited," Raven commented.

"Well, I think anyone would love a chance to get the car of their dreams and not have to worry about the price," Fuller grinned. He glanced at Doug's yellow 1954 pick up truck. "Or a vehicle that brings back memories," he added quietly. Booker and Raven looked at the truck.

"Why did Doug pick out that truck?" Booker asked.

�I don't know. Tom might know, though," Fuller answered. The police captain glanced at his watch. "We should go and see how Tom's doing."

Just then, a black Porsche and burgundy Mercedes 500SL roared into the visitors' parking lot. Raven and Booker laughed as Hoffs leapt out of the Porsche and Ioki strolled out of the Mercedes.

"Nice cars," Raven commented. Hoffs and Ioki flushed.

"You know, I'm almost going to miss ferrying you two around town," Fuller smiled softly at his officers. Harry and Judy reached out and squeezed Fuller�s hands.

"Where's Doug?" Judy asked.

"I think he's still with Tom," Fuller answered.

The group entered the hospital and quickly headed to Hanson's room. Mrs. Hanson sat in a recliner, still in a state of shock. Mick held her hand while Gina tried to coax the distraught woman to eat. Tom Hanson was propped up in his bed with a tray across his lap.

"Come on, buddy, just one more spoonful," Doug cajoled. He scooped up a spoonful of pale, runny oatmeal. "I know it doesn't taste all that good."

"It tastes like ground-up cardboard!" Hanson complained after swallowing the oatmeal. "And goes down about as smoothly," He grimaced. Penhall wiped off the oatmeal that dribbled down his friend�s chin. Then, he held a cup with a straw in it so Hanson could drink. The small cop sipped at the cold water. When he was finished, Hanson laid his head back against his pillow. Penhall brushed a few rogue strands of hair from his friend's face.

"Hey, Tom," Captain Fuller called out softly. Hanson turned towards the sound of Fuller's voice.

"Hey, Coach," Tom said.

Fuller sat on the edge of the bed. He lightly patted Tom's leg. "How are you doing?"

"I want real food," Hanson frowned. "Not this stuff the hospital says is oatmeal." The group laughed at their friend. Hanson's sensitive ears picked up a new voice in the group. "Who all is here?" he asked.

Raven took his hand and said, "I'm Special Agent Raven Kray. I'm Dennis' . . ." She paused, trying to find the right word. "Good friend and roommate."

"Roommate!" Gina snorted. Everyone looked at her. "A roommate doesn't share your bed after you've only known each other a month!"

"Well, actually, Ma," Booker spoke up. "We've been sharing a bed since we've first known each other." Gina Booker's face reddened.

"What else have you two been doing? Screwing since you've first known each other?� She demanded, heedless of the audience.

"No, Mrs. Booker. We waited a night. Dennis had a really bad concussion, remember?" Raven spoke up honestly. Hoffs and Ioki snickered. Penhall flushed in embarrassment while Hanson looked totally confused. Fuller cleared his throat in nervousness. Booker buried his head in his hands and groaned quietly. Gina growled angrily.

Doctor Rays interrupted a fresh tirade before Mrs. Booker could start. "Hello, Tom," Rays called out. The Jump Street cops, except for Penhall, left the bedside and stood with Amanda Hanson. Dennis made sure Mick Penhall and Captain Fuller were between him and his still angry mother. Penhall held his friend's hand as Doctor Rays examined Tom. Rays glanced at the tray and smiled. "I'm glad to see that you have an appetite."

"I'd have a better one if you'd serve real food," Hanson grumbled. Doctor Rays laughed.

"Well, if you behave yourself, you can go home in a week to finish your recovery there," Rays promised. "You'll be able to have real food again."

"Doug, is Rocket Dog still standing?" Hanson asked.

"Of course it is. The buns shielded the building," Penhall snickered. Doctor Rays blanched at the mention of Rocket Dog.

"I thought you wanted real food, Tom," Rays said.

"Rocket Dog is real food," Hanson insisted.

"Yeah, real bad food," Dennis spoke up.

Penhall reached over and snagged an apple. He threw it at Booker, who caught it easily and munched on it. "If it's so bad, then why do you eat there?" Penhall demanded. Booker thought about the question then shrugged his shoulders.

Doctor Rays shook his head, then left the room. Fuller pulled out a cream-colored envelope with the seal for the Seattle-Metro PD on the upper right hand corner. Fuller cleared his throat as he opened the envelope. The entire group looked at him.

"I received this letter before I came to the hospital today," Fuller stated. "It's from the President of the Police Commission." Fuller paused and took a deep breath. "It's regarding the future of the Jump Street Program." Everyone in the room tensed. Fuller glanced at the letter. "First of all, it has been decided that Jump Street Chapel will not be rebuilt."

"Oh, no!" Hoffs cried out.

"When the Jump Street Program reactivates in the fall, the Unit will be located at the old Symons Mansion on the corner of Jump and Elm Streets," Fuller hastily added. He paused. "That's not too far from where you grew up, right, Tom?" The young man had gone frightfully pale. "Tom?" Fuller frowned.

"Oh, god, not the Headless Owl Mansion!" Hanson wailed.

"Headless Owl?" Booker repeated, voicing the other officers' confusion.

"There is a statue at the top of the northernmost gable on the mansion roof. It's of an owl, but the head was destroyed years ago. Long before my grandmother was born." Hanson explained in a shaky voice. Penhall stroked his friend's hair. It had grown during the past month and now hung down past Hanson's thin shoulders. "That place is filled with evil." The heart monitor increased its beeping as Hanson started shaking.

�Take it easy,� Penhall murmured. Tom took several gulping breaths of air.

�What do you mean, it's filled with evil?" Fuller demanded.

"A week before my father was killed," Hanson whispered. "Russell and I broke into the mansion. Just for kicks. The whole place felt cold and slimy." The young man shivered. "We went into the master bathroom at one point. It was filled with a blue light. But there's no electricity in there. No candles either. Just this awful blue light. It hurt . . ." Hanson's voice trailed off. Hanson clung to Doug's strong hand. "It was pulsing. Evil. Just filled with evil." He uttered a soft cry. An alarm on the heart monitor blared out, startling the cops. Hanson kept mumbling. "Hurt. It hurt. It was evil." Then, Hanson stiffened. "DAD!" With a startling burst of movement, Hanson threw himself forward. "Sorry! DAD!"

"Take it easy," Fuller murmured. He and Penhall pushed Tom back against his pillow. The young man struggled against the restraining hands.

"DAD! I'm sorry! DAD!!!!" Hanson surged forward again.

Doctor Rays ran into the room and pushed the cops away from the distressed young man. The doctor quickly examined Hanson. He called for a sedative. A nurse rushed in. She handed Dr. Rays a large hypodermic syringe. He injected the contents into Hanson. Hanson fell back against his pillow. His large, dark brown eyes fluttered shut.

"What happened?" Fuller demanded.

"Stress. Something upset him," Rays explained. "His mind and body are still very weak and he shouldn't be subjected to any shocks."

A candy striper slipped in and quietly removed the food tray. She didn't notice the sharp steak knife that had slipped onto Hanson's bed. Penhall had used it to cut up an orange for Hanson to eat.

"Will Tom have attacks like this again?� Fuller asked.

"I don't know. For now, it's the kid glove treatment, or you'll be banned from the hospital," the doctor glared at the cops. Then, he added, "Maybe you all should go home. You look tired and Officer Hanson will be a sleep for a while."

The officers nodded their heads. Mick and Gina helped Amanda to her feet.

"Amanda," Gina said. "Why don't you come and stay with me? I have a spare bedroom you can use." Mrs. Hanson weakly nodded her head. Mick and Gina lead the weakened woman out of the hospital.

"Doug, could you help me get the bike rack off my car?" Fuller asked.

"Sure," Doug responded. He squeezed his best friend's hand. "I'll come right back, Tommy," Penhall promised his sleeping friend.

The pair strolled into the parking lot. The rest of the Jump Street cops quietly left the two alone. Doug tugged at the jury-rigged bike rack. The metal bars resisted him, fueling his anger.

"DAMMIT!" Penhall growled and ripped the bars off the back of Fuller's car. The large cop fell to his knees. Blood flowed from a large gash on his hand. Fuller dropped to his knees and wrapped a handkerchief around the wound.

"Doug?" Fuller whispered. Penhall looked away from his captain as he started to cry. Fuller pulled Penhall into a tight embrace. "It hurts. I know it hurts," Fuller murmured. Doug's sobs took on a hysterical note.

Fuller shivered as he remembered that awful night a month ago. Right after the blast leveled the chapel, Captain Adam Fuller found himself pinned between two large sections of brick wall and forced to listen to the wild sobs and wails that echoed over the crater. Fuller shivered in his prison as Penhall's claustrophobia reached a howling, insane pitch. As he comforted Doug Penhall, the same helplessness rushed back.

Penhall pulled away and scrubbed his face with his hands. He stood up and leaned against Fuller's car. Fuller stood next to Penhall.

"I'm sorry, Coach," Penhall smiled tiredly. "I guess I need a good night's sleep, then I'll be OK."

"Have you seen the police shrink?� Fuller asked.

"No."

"Penhall," Fuller took a deep breath. "Why don't you see the shrink tomorrow? I don't think you've fully accepted everything that's happened in these past two days."

"I'm OK, Coach," Penhall lied. "I just can't wait for Tom to be out of the hospital. I'm sure he'll be back on his feet in no time." Fuller bit his lip in worry.

"Dammit, Penhall, you have to face reality!" Fuller boomed. "You won't do Tom any good if you keep pretending that everything is going to be happily ever after!" Penhall shied away from his captain. "Tom needs us all to be strong, but he also needs us grounded in reality, Doug."

Penhall shook his head and walked over to his truck. Fuller followed after him. Penhall looked at his feet. �I think I�ll go home and get a shower and some clean clothes, then I�ll come back here. I don�t want Tom to wake up alone.�

"Doug . . ." Fuller started. He looked at Penhall's shiny eyes. He quietly revised what he had been about to say. "Get some sleep at home, too. I think Tom'll be asleep for a while," he said instead.

"Sure thing, Coach." Penhall climbed into his truck and left the parking lot.

Tom Hanson's Hospital Room, four hours later . . .

The drugs' hold on Tom faded away. Hanson opened his eyes and found it all dark. What time is it? Hanson asked himself. He listened and didn�t hear anyone in his room. He couldn't feel the sun on his face like he could earlier. How long was I asleep? Hanson sighed. He couldn't see the clock he knew had to be by his bed nor could he find a radio he could listen to for some kind of distraction.

Tears welled up in his sightless eyes. Hanson could feel them splash down his face and hit something by his nose. Hanson reached up and felt his face. The doctors had threaded a tube of some kind up his nose. It was then that Hanson became aware of the pain in the backs of his hands. IVs, no doubt. A new scent tickled Hanson�s nose. It was the strong smell of Brute cologne that Doctor Rays wore. His father had always worn Brute. Memories flooded back to Hanson of his father before he had died. That smell was always so strong around Jack Hanson. Amanda complained that Jack bathed in the stuff.

"Dad," Hanson whispered. His mind called up the images of Valentine's Day, seven years ago. A much younger, more innocent Tom Hanson standing in the ER in his powder blue tuxedo. A doctor telling him that his father was dead. Captain Briody, then only a Lieutenant, laying a hand on his shoulder.

You're the man of the house now, Tommy, Briody�s voice echoed in Hanson's mind.

"I'm so sorry, Daddy,� Hanson whispered. He weakly brushed the tears from his face. His hands fell limp to his side. One brushed against something cold and metallic. Hanson�s sensitive fingers explored it.

It was the steak knife.

Hanson closed his hand around it. His body trembled as he slowly pressed the blade against the flesh of his right wrist. He winced as the knife made its first cut into his skin. It hurt like hell. Tom forced his left hand to continue to drag the knife away from his wrist and up his arm. He could feel the blood pouring out of the wound. Hanson felt light headed as his blood pooled on his sheets. Tears fell down Hanson's thin face.

"Daddy," He cried, then passed out.