Tempus fugit

Disclaimer: I don't own 21 Jump Street or any of its characters.

Summary: During season's three "Blinded by the thousand points of light". After an arrest gone awry, Tom's world turns upside down.

Timeline: Season's three "Blinded by the thousand points of light". This story won't follow the canon.

Chapter one

Tom leaned his back against the wall and slid down slowly to the floor. A trail of blood flowed down his forehead and tears were slowly trickling down his face. He looked around him and momentarily wondered what to do. He was in a cold motel room, hurt and alone.

It took Tom several minutes to compose himself before walking to the phone. He had to call Fuller and tell him what happened.

Or at least a part of it.

"Fuller…"

"Hey… It's Hanson," he said, his voice empty of any emotion.

"Hanson? Where the hell you are?" Fuller asked a bit angry. He was dead worried about the young officer who was missing for at least 24 hours. The last time Officers Harry Ioki and Denis Booker saw Hanson, he was undercover in front of an adult video store, posing as a male prostitute. It was a tough case, seven young male prostitutes were severely beaten and now a teenager named Aaron was missing. The only suspect was an unknown assailant driving a black BMW.

"In a motel room…" Tom quietly replied. "He…"

Fuller frowned, as Hanson stopped talking. Something was wrong, very wrong. "Hanson, are you okay?"

Tom cleared his throat. He was alive, but he wasn't okay. He should be more careful, he should never going into the BMW with that man. He went alone with a violent rapist and no backup. How could he be so arrogant? Everything that happened to him was his fault.

"Tom…" Fuller said softly. "Talk to me… Where are you? I'll be there faster than I can…"

"I am fine… I… I'll go home… You don't need to worry about me," Tom muttered.

"So tell me where you are," Fuller said.

Tom hesitated for a few seconds, wondering what to do. Closing his eyes he muttered the motel address to his captain.

"I'm coming," Fuller said.

Adam Fuller was nervous. Something in Hanson's voice was not right. Something bad happened to the young officer and he needed to know what. As he promised Tom, he drove to the motel as faster as he could. He walked carefully into the room 304.

"Hanson…" he called.

"Here…" Tom said, his voice almost a whisper.

Fuller looked at the young officer and frowned. Tom was sitting on the ground, trails of blood run down his forehead. He had his arms protectively against his chest. "Hey, Coach…" he muttered.

Fuller walked slowly towards him. "What happened?" he said, as he knelt in front of the young officer.

"Nothing…" Tom replied, but instantly he regretted the lie. Obviously Fuller wouldn't believe him. "I mean… It's not that bad… He knocked my head…"

"He?" Fuller asked in concern.

Tom nodded. "The guy in the black BMW… Sorry, he managed to take my gun from me, he knocked my head… I let him escape… I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, Tom," Fuller said softly. "Let me help you to get up," he said. "I'll go with you to the hospital."

Suddenly Tom's body tensed and he pulled away. "No," he said firmly. "I wanna go home…"

"You need to see a doctor," Fuller insisted.

"No!" Tom shouted at him. "I don't need a doctor, I need to go home, to take a shower… and…" he suddenly stopped. He needed to control himself and stop talking. His Captain was no fool and would certainly connect the dots.

Adam Fuller was in a quandary. Hanson was hurt, his body was shaking. The suspect was a violent predator, a rapist. Something really bad happened in this motel room, something Hanson didn't want to tell him.

If the suspect did to Hanson the same he did to the others victims, go home and take a shower wasn't the right thing to do. He wanted to respect Tom's wish, but knew evidence should be collected as soon as possible.

"Our suspect is a violent predator, a rapist," he said.

"I know," Tom said, instinctively stepping back.

"If he did something to you…" He said, carefully choosing the words.

"Coach…" Tom's lips were trembling.

"You'll need help…"

Tom shook his head and looked at the door. He didn't want to go to a hospital. He wanted to go home, take a shower and pretend nothing happened to him. "I already told you, I don't need help; I only need to go home…" he said, walking to the door.

Fuller sighed. Hanson was a very stubborn man. He took a few steps and rested his hand in Tom's shoulder. "You know you can trust me, don't you?"

Tom turned his face to him. The truth was he needed help. He was hurt and needed to go to a hospital. He desperately needed someone to tell him that what happened wasn't his fault. "I… failed. I was so stupid…" he said, lowering his head. "It happened so fast, I thought I had everything under control… But then… He took my gun from me. He hit my head with the back of the gun. I passed out…When I woke up…" Tom paused for a moment, closing his eyes. "He was forcing himself on me…"

Now it was Fuller who closed his eyes. "I'm really sorry…"

Tom shook his head. "I tried to pull away from him," Tom continued. "But he overpowered me… I tried, I really tried."

"What happened wasn't your fault, Tom," Fuller said, like reading his thoughts. "C'mon, you need to see a doctor…"