My apologies for the hideously long wait. However, the next chapter is finally here. i will do my best to get the next chapter up much, much sooner. i hope this is worth the wait.

For Middle-Earthling

See. I haven't dropped it.

Chapter Nine

I sat back in a lawn chair in Jenko's backyard, trying to figure out how it could possibly be so hot so soon in the state of Washington; it was ridiculous. It was about a week before we would be starting our new jobs, so Jenko decided to have a barbeque at his place.

I grasped my cup of ice water as I started to melt into the chair.

"Hanson, it is not that hot out."

"Hey, Jude," I said, glancing up at her.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't 'fry an egg on the concrete' hot, but it was still pretty warm. And yes, I was sitting under the awning, but that just kept the sun off me.

"What're you complaining about now?" Doug yelled from the grill.

"I'm not complaining," I yelled back.

"Get over here and help me with this."

"Get Ioki ta help."

Doug glared at me. "This some kind of payback?"

"Yes."

I smirked, he grimaced.

"Get over here."

I got up out of my chair, still smirking, and walked over to the grill. "What's wrong, Dougie? Not enough man to man the grill?"

He glared at me. "Oh, yer a riot."

"Yer the one that wanted me ta come over here."

"Oh, shut up and grab the hotdogs."

The grin plastered on my face was difficult to remove. I grabbed the hotdogs, opened the package and threw some on the grill, still grinning.

"Wipe that grin off yer face," Doug said. "It's creepy."

"It's all for you, Dougie."

"Uh-huh." Doug studied me for a moment. "Why do I get the feeling there's somethin' really big that yer not tellin' me?"

I threw a few more hotdogs on the grill. "I have no idea what yer talkin' about."

He grimaced at me. "Yeah, right."

I don't know about anyone else, but I like my hotdogs charred. At least, a little. It gives them that nice 'grill' taste. There's just something about that smoky charcoal that makes them taste so good.

"Hey, did you get ahold of Brian?" he asked.

"Yeah. He should be here soon. So should Jimmy, Tober and Spooky." I glanced at the backdoor. "Well, speak of the devil…."

"Now don't tell me you started without us." Jimmy. Same attitude. Rather endearing, really.

I grinned as I walked towards them. "What…? If we didn't start before you got here, you wouldn't leave anything for me."

He shrugged and grinned back.

On with the man-hugs. What? I missed those guys.

I stared at Brian for a moment. "So how's it feel to be a free man?"

"Never cherished my freedom more than I do now." He smiled softly as he spoke.

"It's good to see you in the outside world again."

"Same here."

I glanced over at the grill to see the other three hanging around it and snagging my charred hotdogs. "Hey!" I heard Brian snicker at my reaction.

"Can't leave them alone for five minutes…" he said with a grin.

"Let's get over there before those yahoos at the grill eat everything."

We spent the bulk of the afternoon eating and talking, catching each other up. It was one of the better days I would have. And there wasn't going to be too many of those.

After the barbeque ended and everyone—with the exception of Doug and myself—had left, I laid down on Jenko's couch. I was tired and I wasn't sure why. I hoped I wasn't coming down with something.

"You feeling okay, sport?" Jenks asked, feeling my forehead and temples.

"Just tired," I replied lazily. "Not sure why."

"Well, I hope ya ain't comin' down with somethin'."

"Same here."

He stood up. "Need anything?"

"Nah…. I'm good."

"Alright. I'll check on you later." And he walked out.

I ended up falling asleep and waking up around three in the morning to a pillow under my head and a blanket covering my body. And I felt like crap. This wasn't good. I felt nauseous and made a beeline for the bathroom. How I had anything left in my stomach was beyond me. But then I know very little about the digestive system. Something I ate decided it no longer liked me. And I hoped that that was all it was.

"You okay, sport?"

I gingerly turned my head to see Jenko standing in the doorway of the bathroom. "Yeah. I think my dinner turned on me." I slowly stood up on my shaky legs. "How could I have possibly had anything left in my stomach?"

"One of the great mysteries of the universe."

I furrowed my brow. "Right."

And then he laughed at me. Now that's just rude.

The following morning I didn't want to get up. I was feeling fine, just lazy. Very lazy. There was still another week before I started my new job, and I wasn't going to waste it by getting up early. I was turning into Doug.

Then the smell of bacon entered my nostrils…and subsequently woke me up. So much for sleeping in—till noon. I just can't ignore the smell of sizzling bacon. I can't ignore bacon period. Though I'm not sure I'd want it on my donut.

After a trip to the bathroom,I walked into the kitchen, yawning as I sat down at the table.

"Mornin', sport," Jenko greeted happily, flipping a pancake.

"Hey," I replied sleepily.

"I'm surprised you actually got up."

"Couldn't resist the bacon."

He laughed, setting the butter and syrup on the table. "Would ya like some coffee, sport?"

"Yeah…. Sounds good." I still sounded like I was half asleep.

My eyes were half-closed, but my hearing was just fine. I could hear him snickering. "Glad I didn't give you a choice between that and somethin' else," he said.

"Why's that," I asked, yawning.

"Would you like coffee or orange juice, sport?"

"Yeah."

"And there's yer answer."

It took a few moments for it to register in my brain. My eyes shot open. "Aww…man…." Jenko got me. And then laughed at me. "Not cool, Jenks."

He had a grin on his face and it was annoying me. When you live by yourself you don't realize how grumpy you can be in the mornings. Or whenever it is when you first wake up. Douglas has told me many times how grumpy I can be in the mornings. My usual reply is "so are you." I'm sure he wants to smack me whenever I say it.

"So how many pancakes do you want, sport?"

"Three."

"Bacon?"

"All of it." Regardless of whether he meant "Do you want bacon?" or "How many strips would you like?" I still would've said "All of it." Because it's bacon. Only crackpots and weirdos don't like bacon.

"Sure…sport…."

I grinned.

He set a plate full of pancakes and bacon down in front of me, along with a mug each of coffee and orange juice. I poked at my pancakes with a knife before spreading butter on them.

"I can't believe it's already been a year," I said, pouring maple syrup over my pancakes. "You know, since that first time at Goddard Hall."

"Time marches on no matter what happens to us," Jenks replied, sitting down across from me.

And at the end of the summer, it will be a year since I was first infected.

"You okay, sport?"

"Huh?" I looked up at him.

"You goin' for mashed pancakes?"

I looked down at my plate. "Oh. Sorry. Guess I zoned out."

"You've been doin' that a lot lately."

"Yeah, I know." I thought about telling him right then and there. But like with Doug, no words made it from my mouth to Jenko's ears. The only thing that made its way either out of or into my mouth was my breakfast.

"What's on yer mind?"

"It's nothin."

"Hmm…. Doesn't sound like nothin'. But I'm sure you'll tell me when yer ready."

"Yeah." I wouldn't so much as be ready to tell him as I would be just blurting it out.

The week went by fast and we were soon on our first case as private detectives. This was going to be interesting. I wondered how many of our cases would involve the same ol'-same ol' from our undercover work; though this particular one wouldn't. As far as I knew. The couple that had hired us were unimpressed—and rather impatient—with the local LEO's work. So they hired us to investigate their fourteen year old son's disappearance. These types of cases always unnerved me. I never want to be the one to inform a parent of their child's death, but I've never been able to escape it. There's also the possibility of the case turning weird. Some of the people I've had to deal with are just flat-out creepy.

"I hope this doesn't involve the occult in any way," I said to Jenks as we sat at lunch. "That crap weirds me out."

"It scares me," he replied.

"Yeah, that, too."

Taking a bite of my burger, I glanced across the street. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. And I don't mean the giant milk carton surrounded by kids, though that was kinda weird. It was the person wearing the giant milk carton that had my attention.

"Watcha starin' at, sport?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that…Hoffs?"

He followed my gaze. "I believe it is."

"Oh, this's too good." I grinned maniacally.

"Hanson."

"Sorry." I went back to my burger. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen anything more entertaining…."

"Hanson."

"Sorry."

Judy's going to beat me to a pulp for mentioning this. Oh, well. Totally worth it. I wish I had a picture.

"Hanson, quit grinning and finish yer lunch."

"Yes, Dad."

He rolled his eyes at me. Sometimes I just can't help myself.

"Come on, laughing boy. Let's get outa here."

I took one last look at the happy milk carton across the street. I was about to yell something when Jenko cut me off.

"Thomas!"

"Coming."

The longer it takes to solve a missing-persons case, the less likely it is you'll find that person alive. I was not looking forward to that possibility. Reassuring the parents-or whoever reported the missing person—that you would do your best to find their missing loved one alive is difficult enough, but to have to tell them their missing loved one was found dead is almost unbearable. It is for me, at least. I've had to do that once before and I didn't like it. It's a horrible feeling.

Fortunately, we found this kid alive. He had gotten trapped in an old ship cargo container that was being used for storage at a summer camp. How he managed that I couldn't figure out.

"Sounds like somethin' you and Penhall would do," Jenks said as we headed back to Jump Street.

I was slightly insulted by this. "Probably," I replied. Yes, Douglas and I have managed to get ourselves stuck in some interesting situations.

"Like the treehouse incident?"

"Yes, like the treehouse—" I furrowed my brow. "I said that all out loud, didn't I?"

Jenko smiled at me. "Yes, you did."

"Of course. Wonder what other stuff I've said out loud without realizing it."

"I could write a book."

I looked at him. "Har-har."

When Doug and me were partners, chasing a suspect on foot wasn't a big deal; though we both loathed running after anyone, we both did the chasing. But when it came to Jenko, I did all the running.

"Sorry, sport. I don't run anymore."

"Of course, you don't."

His favorite thing to yell out after me was "I'll bring the car around."

At what point in my career as a police officer it was decided that private detectives had to chase down anyone one on foot I would really like to know. Then I could go back in time and change it. Where's the TARDIS when you need it?

Jenko's idea of bringing the car around was to drive around until he saw the suspect emerge into the open and then almost run over him. And occasionally, almost run over me. I don't know how many times I ended up jumping onto the hood. "Sorry, sport," was always his reply to my glare.

While working at Jump Street I saw and talked to Doug nearly every day. Now I barely saw him. I hadn't even talked to him in almost three weeks. When you suddenly go from seeing and talking to each other almost every day to neither seeing nor talking to each other at all, it can be a little unnerving. I felt like I was losing my brother. I missed working with him. I missed hanging out with him. I missed him. Jenko could see it.

"Give 'im a call, Hanson."

"I did. He didn't answer. So I went by his place. He's on a stakeout."

"Keep tryin', kiddo."

"I will."

My Jump Street family was all I had left. The fact that I saw and talked to only one of them regularly hurt. I realized we all had separate jobs, but hardly any effort was made to get together. (By mid-July I had given up on trying.) The lack of any effort was outweighed by the one burden that had been joyriding on my shoulders since March and I found myself blurting it out to Jenko as we headed back to his place after closing a case.

It was the afternoon of July 3rd and we had just wrapped up our second case. Nearly four months had passed since I had found out I had HIV and I still couldn't afford the medication I needed. I was in serious trouble, but I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone. I was scared. Jenko was talking about something. I wasn't entirely sure about what because my mind had started to wander. It took me a moment to realize he had been calling my name for the past two minutes.

"Hey, sport, you in there? Hanson? Hanson. Thomas."

I blurted it out; said it as if it were common knowledge. "I have HIV."

"What?" He pulled over into a parking lot and turned to me. "Tom?"

"I have HIV," I repeated, staring at the dashboard.

"How long have you known?"

I don't know how I was expecting him to react. Perhaps that's why I was so shocked when he asked. I looked up at him, stunned. "What?"

There was that soft look in his eyes; the same look he had given me when he found out what had happened to me last summer. "How long have you known?"

"Almost four months."

"So you've had it for at least ten."

I sighed heavily. "Yeah." I stared at the dashboard. "Even if I had found out then, it wouldn't have made any difference."

"How so?"

"I can't afford the medication."

There was silence for a moment. "Don't worry about that anymore," Jenko said. "I'll take care of it."

I looked up at him. "Jenko, you don't—"

"No arguments." He looked at me sternly. Jenko reminded me so much of my dad.

I smiled softly. "Yes, sir."

"All right. Now that's taken care of." Jenko started the van up and pulled back onto the street. "Now what are you so afraid of?"

I looked at him, cocking an eyebrow. "What?"

"What're you afraid of?"

I didn't want to answer. I knew my fears were unfounded when it came to my friends, but after witnessing what Harley went through it was hard to push the thought from my mind.

"Nobody wanted to touch him," I suddenly found myself saying." "Harley."

"Yer afraid that's gonna happen to you."

"Yeah…."

"You know that's not gonna happen, Tom."

"I know. Still can't help thinkin' about it."

Jenko smiled at me and squeezed my shoulder. His smile was always reassuring.

"It's going to be okay, Tommy."

I hoped so.

Thank you for reading and sticking by me, even though I'm a horrible updater. Barring my death or this country going completely to Hell, i will finish this story.