Title: Irreparable

Summary: A false accusation leads to divisive revelations for the Jump Street team, but they overcome their differences in the face of a tragic event – and a case with deeply personal resonance.

Warning: Slash (homosexual content), rape, depression, suicidal thoughts, child abuse, domestic violence – and whatever other angst I can manage to work in. If you don't like this, don't read it, for flames only serve as a source of amusement for me.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: As much as I would kill to own Tom Hanson and Dennis Booker, I don't. And I don't own the rest of Jump Street, either. Too bad for me.

A/N: Please notice that I keep changing the warning above slightly. I just want y'all to be aware. This fic is no walk in the park, and I deal with a lot of tough issues.

rosepetal - Well, you're about to get a decent sense of at least one person's reaction. And that in general will be an underlying theme for most of the fic.

Nina - Thanks so much! I've searched for slash and found a little but you're right, there's not much at all - and what there is usually isn't Hanson/Booker, which is my 'ship of choice ;) In case you couldn't tell.

Yume no Kokoro - Thanks! I'm glad you like it. I used to very nervous about posting slash; it's nice to see people so into it.

Geheimnis - :is flattered I'm glad you chose it too! And I'm glad you liked that line. I like the sarcasm you tend to see in all the characters, and the edge in Booker's, so I have fun writing him in particular. And I've written LOTS of other stuff, but this is my first Jump Street fic.

Chapter 4

Hanson opened the door to see Doug standing in the hall, six-pack in hand. "Hey," he greeted him, stepping back to allow him entrance.

"You got the game on?"

"Hasn't started yet. Rain delay."

Doug growled as he set the beer down. "You gotta be kidding me. First time I got a night free, and…" He shook his head, plopping down on the couch. "The world is out to get us, Hanson."

"You got that right," Tom muttered, liberating a can from the plastic rings and popping it open. He sank into a chair as Doug got his own beer. "I ordered the pizza. Should be here in ten or so."

"Sounds good." Doug grabbed the remote and turned the television on, scowling at the announcement scrolling across the bottom of the screen. "Rained out," he grumbled. "There anything else on?"

"Not really," Hanson shrugged, "I looked."

Glaring once more at the TV set, Penhall turned it off and tossed the control aside. Turning to Hanson he asked slowly, "How you holdin' up?"

Tom shrugged again, fixing his eyes on the can in his hands. "I'm okay." Inside his head, one part of him was yelling Moment of truth, Tommy and the other was reminding him, oh so helpfully, You can still back out. Dennis sure won't object. Fact was, though, he couldn't, because Doug was going to be weird about this as it was, he was sure, never mind if he found out through the rumor mill.

"Fuller said he thinks Bartero'll retract his accusation. You know why?"

"Yeah, uh…" Hanson trailed off, taking a deep breath. "Doug, there's something I have to tell you."

"Yeah? What's up?"

Tom opened his mouth but before he could say a word, there was a knock at the door and Penhall was on his feet in a flat second. "Pizza!" Hanson stayed where he was, leaning back and closing his eyes. Maybe he oughta tie Doug to a chair until he actually got the words out.

No, then he'd probably get the wrong idea.

Hell, as it was, he'd probably get the wrong idea.

Doug returned, pizza box in hand, and Tom leaned forward to clear space on the coffee table for it. Setting the beer on the floor, he grabbed another can and opened it. He needed more alcohol.

Penhall pulled a slice out of the box and handed it to Tom before returning for one for himself and then closing the lid. "So," he mumbled around a mouthful of cheese, "what'd you want to talk about?"

Hanson rested his forearms on his knees, staring at his slice as if it was going to come to life. Then, so suddenly that he even surprised himself, he blurted out, "I'm gay."

He watched as Penhall, instead of freezing like he would have expected, continued moving the pizza toward his mouth, only to miss completely and smear sauce all over his cheek. Doug's mouth dropped open. "Huh?"

Tom finally took a bite, using food as an excuse not to answer right away. Swallowing, and washing it down with more beer, he repeated, "I'm gay." Amazing how, the second time, it was so much easier. He was struck by the uneasy expression that appeared on Doug's face as the bigger man glanced around for a minute, swiping at his face with a napkin, before finally meeting Tom's eyes.

"Uh, Hanson, why, uh, why you telling me this now? Huh?"

Hanson laughed outright, knowing instinctively what was going through Doug's head. "No offense, Penhall, but you aren't exactly my type."

"Oh." Doug looked as if he didn't know whether to be relieved or hurt, and in the end must have settled on relieved. "Well, uh, then, who is your type?"

Hoo-boy. "Uh, Doug, if I tell you, you gotta promise me you won't… say anything… to him. I mean, he's okay – sort of – with you knowing but, well, you aren't gonna be too happy." As he stopped speaking, Tom blinked, wondering if that had made sense to Penhall, because he wasn't sure it had made sense to himself.

It also occurred to him that he'd just more or less agreed with Dennis that Doug wouldn't like the idea of him dating Booker. Good thing he wasn't here; Tom hated having to admit that Dennis had been right.

"What do you think I'm gonna do, Hanson?"

"I don't know." Tom shrugged. "I just know you aren't going to like it."

"Would you just tell me already?"

"Dennis." Okay, he needed to stop surprising even himself when he spoke. That'd get him shot or something someday.

"What?" Doug exploded. "Hanson, are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious. Would I tell you I was dating Booker just for kicks?"

"Maybe," Penhall retorted, and Tom glared at him.

"Well, I'm not. Joking, I mean. It's true. We are." How long ago did you learn English, Tommy? Month or two?

"Hanson, I thought you were smarter than that."

"Smarter than what?" This conversation was rapidly heading south, and Hanson found himself even more glad that Dennis wasn't present. "Smarter than what, Penhall?" he asked again when Doug didn't answer.

"Well, smarter than to date a guy at Jump Street, for one."

"Why? You didn't seem too worried when you were off chasing Hoffs."

"It's not the same."

"Why? Because it's a guy? Or because it's Booker?"

"Because… because… both, okay?"

Hanson glared, but nodded. It wasn't as if he hadn't been expecting this. "Okay. Let's start with Dennis. What's wrong with him?"

"I don't trust him as far as I can throw him," Doug said, his voice taking on a strange urgency. "And that isn't very far."

"Why? Doug, I didn't trust him either, but I got to know him, and he's really a decent guy. Just puts up a front, most of the time."

"Ha! You call that a front? Nobody's that good an actor."

"You act long enough, you get it down pretty good," Tom retorted. "What's your problem with him, Penhall?"

"Hanson, remember, I'm the one who told you who he was when he first started at Jump Street. And I'm the one who told you that you were jumping to conclusions."

Boy did he remember. "And I was. What's your point?"

"My point is, I knew more about him than I told you then, and I probably still know more about him than you do – at least, in some ways." Hanson felt a twinge of satisfaction as Doug's face flushed. "Remember I told you to be careful?"

"Yeah, because he was IAD."

"Not only that."

Tom leaned back in his chair, an uneasy feeling resting in the pit of his stomach. "What, Doug?"

From Penhall's hesitation, Hanson could see he was weighing his words carefully. The initial animosity was gone, and Doug's expression was serious and concerned. "Booker had a domestic called in on him, Hanson, almost a year before he came over to Jump Street. Put his girlfriend in the hospital. And IAD – IAD – covered it up. I wanted you to be careful because if he'd lose it like that with a girl he was dating, who knew how he'd handle you or Jude or Ioki?"

Tom shook his head slowly, and Doug misinterpreted the body language. "Hanson, I wouldn't make that up. Especially not, y'know, with you dating him and all."

Hanson waved a hand. "Give me a minute, okay, Doug?" He knew Penhall wouldn't lie about something like that. He also knew that if he was basing it off a rumor, Doug would have told him. And he could – and this was the part that bothered him the most – see it happening. Dennis had a temper and, though he hadn't taken a swing at him since they'd gotten together, Tom had definitely been on the receiving end of more than one flare-up. "I believe you," he finally said.

"Then you get why I don't like—"

"Doug, listen to me. I believe you. And, yeah, he never said anything about that to me," which meant that he and Booker would be having a nice, long conversation at some point in the near future. "But I can handle myself. I'm not afraid of him; I wasn't then and I'm not now. Relax, huh?"

"Hanson—"

"Look, Doug. I'm going to be honest. I wouldn't even be telling you any of this except that Booker's my alibi for the night that Bartero was talking about, so it's going to get out anyway, and it's going to be hard enough on us both without you and Hoffs and Harry making it worse. So, even though you don't like it, could you at least be civil?"

Penhall frowned, but finally nodded. "Just, be careful, will you? I really don't trust him."

"No kidding," Hanson muttered. "Yeah, I'll be careful, okay?"

"Okay. You, uh, you telling Hoffs and Ioki?"

"I don't know. I should, but…" he trailed off and shot Doug a look. "How about you tell them, and the three of you can commiserate about how much you can't stand Dennis?"

Doug shook his head. "No way. You made your bed; you get to lie in it."

-------------------------

Dennis walked into the Chapel and almost stopped short. Half a dozen pairs of eyes fixed on him the second he came in, and followed him as he walked over to his desk. Getting himself a cup of coffee, he heard a bit of mumbling here and there, but nothing he could quite make out. Returning to his desk, he glanced across the room at Tom.

Hanson's head was down, and Booker could tell he wasn't actually doing anything but trying to ignore the whispering and tension in the room – and failing, at that. Setting his cup down, Dennis shook his head, somewhat impressed. Well, now they knew what kind of news would get the department gossips working overtime.

He opened a folder, skimming the reports Hanson had filled out on Bartero and his buddies. Letter-perfect, as usual. Idly, he wondered if the kid had come up with the idea of setting up Hanson on his own, or if his scumbag lawyer had suggested it. He'd seen the guy, and wouldn't put it past him. The creep struck Dennis as the type who started out his career loitering around emergency rooms.

"Booker, Hoffs, Hanson, Penhall." Booker raised his head, half expecting Fuller to go on calling names; sounded like he was taking attendance. Standing, he crossed the room, coffee in hand, and was the last one into the Captain's office.

"Good news, Hanson. Bartero cracked - apparently, he hadn't given any thought to what to do if he wasn't believed," Fuller paused and rolled his eyes,"and as of tomorrow, once they push the paperwork through, you're clear to get back into the field." Dennis watched some of the tension in Tom's shoulders evaporate, though his boyfriend didn't even crack a smile. Neither did the others.

Fuller went on, ignoring the strained atmosphere in the office. "Ioki's undercover at Barrington as we speak. Hanson, you and Hoffs are going to be joining him tomorrow morning."

"That the attempted murder, Coach? Hit and run in the high school parking lot?" Hanson asked.

"As of two-thirty this morning, it's flat-out murder. Parents took her off life support. Homicide likes the father for it so, Hanson, you're going to try to get close to the sister, see if she can give you anything on that angle." He frowned. "Ioki thinks there may be some domestic abuse there."

Booker frowned as Hanson shifted uncomfortably. "Why me, Captain?"

"Because you've got the experience. Out of everybody, you're probably the one who would pick up on the signs the easiest. That, and Ioki says you seem like her type." Dennis carefully kept his face expressionless as Hanson seemed to ease a bit.

"I don't know that I'd trust Harry to tell what someone's type is," he muttered. "What angle is he taking?"

"He's working the boyfriend," Fuller replied. "They had a knock-down drag-out with half the school as the audience the night before she was attacked. And he's the one the parents think did it. No evidence, though."

"Literally?" Tom asked.

"No, but apparently, pretty close." Fuller turned to Judy. "Hoffs, you can get out your pom poms."

"Cheerleading? Again? Captain, there are guy cheerleaders, you know."

"Yeah, there are. But none that Melissa Richards was friendly with. Ioki did pick up that the girl was a small-time user – marijuana, primarily – and that's a possible angle. Feel out the friends, see if anybody knows where she was getting it."

"Captain, why isn't this case sticking with homicide?"

"Because nobody's saying anything, despite the fact that the guys who had it got the feeling that everybody knows something."

"You think it's something bigger?"

"Could be. Might not. You tell me." With that, Fuller turned toward Booker and Penhall. "In the last three weeks, three young men have reported being approached by a social studies teacher – a male teacher – offering them a way to fix their poor grades." The Captain looked down the bridge of his nose at them. "I'm sure you can guess his proposition. One of them them gave in; the other two failed their last two quizzes. Now, all three of them are friends, so it's possible they're making the entire thing up. You two get to figure it out."

It was Dennis's turn to look uncomfortable. "Uh, Captain—"

Fuller held up a hand. "I know what you're going to say. Now, I get the impression somebody downtown's trying to have a little fun with us right now, but it's a real case, and if these three are telling the truth, this guy will be exactly where Hanson was two days ago – only for real this time."

"Right." Booker sighed, and Penhall took the opening.

"Are both of us supposed to start failing tests right off, or what?"

"Booker gets to be the screw up. You get to try to get in with these guys, find out what their deal is. Get 'em talking, see if they've got anything against this teacher, other than what supposedly happened. And see if any of them says anything that suggests one way or the other."

"Captain, no kid who's really gotten pushed into sleeping with his teacher is going to willingly talk about it with his friends," Booker pointed out. "Especially…" he felt his face flush and gave up. Fuller was right. Someone was having a lot of fun at their expense.

His expense, his and Tom's.

But Fuller got his point regardless, and turned to Doug. "Keep that in mind, Penhall," he said pointedly. "Questions? No? Good. Now get out of here and let me get some work done."