November 1987

After Jenko died, it was rough on everyone. Our jobs were up in the air, and we lost a great man who genuinely cared about us and loved us as if we were his own. It was difficult to accept that he was gone, and even harder to welcome someone to take his place.

I suggested bowling together as a way to welcome our new captain, Captain Adam Fuller. When I first joined, they took me to dinner so I thought this was an interactive way to get to know him. We all met at the bowling alley and began playing. I was smoking all of them. I had the best score, but Doug was not that far behind.

Poor Mickey had terrible aim. I tried to teach her to lead with her thumb, but it kept spinning into the gutter. She also had the most basic questions, but I had no problem answering them. I was so excited to teach her how to bowl. But based on her score, I was not that great of a teacher.

"Strike!" Doug shouted. He pumped his fist in the air before pointing to me and said, "write that down."

"I am," I muttered and opened my scorebook to record his score.

Someone hit the pins with their ball, and I noticed Mickey flinched ever so slightly. I stopped writing and I looked at her over the rim of my reading glasses and I asked, "are you okay?"

I have never noticed her so jumpy before. She has always been calm, cool, and collected. I did not think she was physically capable of flinching.

"Yeah, why?" She asked.

"You don't seem... here." I bit into a fry and spun my finger in circles near my head. "Mentally."

"I'm here," she said.

"All my passes are up," Captain Fuller said. He was the first one to bowl, and we were on our last frame. "I'll get us a seat in the restaurant."

"I'll come with you," Doug said and joined him.

Ioki was bowling his last turn, and he got eight pins down in total. Judy got a spare, and I ended with a strike. Mickey ended with a gutter ball, and I reassured that she would do better next time. She laughed, which told me that she really didn't care. I was just glad that she was having fun.

We walked up together to give the counter our bowling shoes, and I could not stop looking at Mickey. I desperately wanted to ask her what was wrong, but I did not want her to feel uncomfortable by my nosy nature.

I walked alongside Mickey to the restaurant, where we all sat in a booth. An upbeat song started playing on the jukebox that the restaurant had, and I thought it would be a good chance to get Mickey to open up to me. I lifted my hand up to her and asked, "wanna dance?"

I smiled at her as she chuckled and took my hand. I led her away from the table and did some silly dance moves around her, trying to make her laugh. She seemed to have forced a smile, so I definitely knew that something was wrong. Her laugh is so pure and genuine, and we have similar senses of humor so she should have laughed, at least a little.

I pulled her into a dance and I felt her place her hand on my arm.

I leaned in close to her ear so I could talk to her without anyone else hearing. I had no idea what was wrong, and I wanted her to feel comfortable enough to talk about it without feeling forced or obligated.

I said softly by her ear, "I know that I haven't known you for very long... but something's got you vexed."

"I'm fine," she claimed. Her years of being undercover have probably made her an expert liar. She sounded convincing, but I did not believe her.

"It's me. Talk to me, Gregg," I said. We are partners and rely so much on each other like our lives depend on it, because they do. We constantly use the 'talk to me' line when we are in the field, so I hoped that by saying it, I would be able to get through to her.

"Don't worry about it."

I sighed softly and we finished the rest of the song before we got back to the table. We ate our meals, and I couldn't stop looking at her and trying to read her expressions. She still smiled and laughed along with everyone, but it was just... different.

I was her ride home because we carpooled. She would not talk to me much during the ride over, so I tried to think of a way to get inside her apartment. I walked up to her door with her, and I asked her, "can I have a glass of water?"

"Sure," she said and left me at the door before she headed into her kitchen. "Come on in."

I walked inside and shut the door behind me. I meandered over to her living room and noticed a paper laying on her coffee table. I narrowed my eyes at it as I picked it up and there were some choice words on the page that made me stop and thoroughly read the letter.

I read it two or three times before I asked her, "what the hell is this?"

Mickey ran into the living room and tried to snatch the letter from my stiff hands. I held it up and out of her reach. I was so angry, but I had to control it. My nose was sore from it flaring, and my throat burned by choking back what I wanted to scream at whoever wrote the note.

"That's just..." she began to say. She looked at the paper and shuddered before she sighed and said, "I've been getting a lot of letters like these lately. Death threats."

"By who?" I asked and I finally gave the letter back to her.

"I don't know," she said and folded the letter in her hand. "I think it's someone I've arrested in the past but who knows."

"Is it Brian?" I asked.

Brian was an officer at Jump Street, but Mickey busted him when she found out that he was taking hard drugs while he was on the job. He escaped, and broke into her apartment. He threatened her with a knife, but her dog Pacino saved her life as the expense of his own. I know that Mickey is still healing from that, because it really wasn't that long ago.

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I got the first letter before we had that case with Brian," she mumbled.

I had to pause before I could continue. She started receiving these letters months ago and didn't tell me? Didn't tell anyone? She's just been holding this in like it's nothing?

"How long have they been sending these to you?" I asked. If it's someone else she has arrested in the past, it really could be anyone. She has been an officer for a couple of years already, I'm sure that she has had to deal with a lot of people.

"Two... almost three months?" She sounded uncertain, but that's a very long time.

I tightened my jaw and gulped violently. I pushed past her and started to head to the door. She asked, "what are you doing?"

I felt her grab my arm, so I whipped around and said, "I'm not going to just stand by while you're getting threatened."

"There isn't anything anyone can do," she declared. She sounded hopeless and defeated, "I know what they'll say. They'll say that they can't do anything until they physically act upon these threats."

"That's bull," I shouted. I was not trying to direct my anger at her, so I hoped that she knew that I wasn't yelling at her.

"That's just the way this works. Nothing happens until it's too late."

"Not if I have anything to say about it." There was no way I was going to let her get hurt. I'm a cop, I'm supposed to serve and protect, and that extends to my friends.

"Tom, I'm being safe, I promise. I've got a bat and my gun in my room, pepper spray on my keys, and a taser in my car. Then I have my other taser and pepper spray for work."

I was surprised that she had all that. But if I was getting death threats, I would probably want some sort of defense as well. I said, "it infuriates me that you even have to have those things."

She casually said, "I mean... I kinda had all that stuff already."

"Why?" I cocked my eyebrow.

She nearly laughed before she said, "because I'm a cop, and a woman. Living alone. In Metropolis."

I frowned, "is this a normal worry for women? Even without the threats?"

She nodded, "and I know I'm not the only one."

I stopped seeing red, and now I was thinking about how Mickey has carried all these weapons around and how they were hidden throughout her house. I did not realize how much women have to worry about while being out in the world, and it hurt my heart. I hated seeing people that I care about scared for their own safety just by being a woman.

I said, "I wish you'd stay at my place tonight."

"I'll be fine," she reassured.

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes at her stubbornness and begged, "then let me stay here."

Mickey sighed before she backed up until she reached her phone. I was a little confused, until she pushed a button and a voicemail began to play. The voice was deep and spine-chilling. I looked at Mickey as I listened to it in horror, and she was staring off at the wall. I don't think she was listening, and I didn't blame her. I wish I could have turned it off, especially at the part where he threatened to scalp her as she slept after announcing her address on the recording.

The voicemail ended and the machine said in a monotone voice, "end of messages."

She came back to reality and looked up at me with big eyes. Her brittle voice broke as she asked, "I'm not being dramatic... right? Like, that is a threat, right?"

I could not believe what I just heard. It was jaw dropping, terrifying, and absolutely sickening. My stomach churned as the voice burned in my brain. The words echoed over and over in my head. She looked like she was going to cry, so I walked up to her and pulled her into a tight hug. Her arms wrapped around me tightly. I said, "yeah, I'm definitely staying."

She nodded into my shoulder, but didn't speak. I held her for a minute. I brought my lips to her forehead and gave her a comforting kiss. Her hair smelled like flowers. I like flowers. I told her to stay on the couch until I could come back with my stuff.

I ran home and threw some clothes in a bag and called it good. I really didn't need that much stuff, just some clothes for work tomorrow. I raced back to her apartment and knocked before I walked inside and locked the door behind me. I put my bag on the table and we spent the rest of the evening watching television on her red sofa.

Mickey got up during the show and I furrowed my eyebrows at her and asked, "where do you think you're going?"

She looked back at me and said, "the bathroom."

"Okay, let's go," I said and stood up.

"Woah, back up."

"I'm gonna survey the area."

I didn't give her a chance to respond. I ran ahead of her with a hunched back, pretending to be sneaky. I swiftly got down on the ground and performed multiple side rolls like a ninja, to demonstrate my seriousness.

I stood up and skillfully pressed myself up against the wall and opened the bathroom door. I poked my head in and looked around a few times before I turned to her and said, "the coast is clear."

Then, I opened the door a little more and began whisper-shouting, "go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go," while waving her in until she walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

She walked in laughing, and I felt accomplished. She has been stressing out for so long, she needed a laugh. She talks about this fear and pain that she has like everything is all right, but I know that she feels dead inside. I went back to the couch, and she joined me again soon after.

During one of the commercial breaks, I turned to Mickey and asked, "can you just do one thing for me?"

"What?" She asked.

"Please tell Fuller about these threats."

"He won't do anything," she said.

"Yes, he will. Or, at least he will know. I'd hate for something to happen to you."

She sighed and finally nodded. I felt a lot better already, knowing that she wasn't going through this alone anymore.

That night, I crashed on the pull-out couch. Mickey brought me blankets and pillows, and I spent the entire night sleeping in the living room. I hoped that she felt better with me there, because I know I felt better with me there. If I was home, I probably wouldn't get any sleep knowing that she was here alone.

We carpooled to work the next morning, and I overheard her tell Fuller about the threats she was receiving. I found out that a kid from a gang that she arrested sometime last year had escaped from jail and blamed it all on her and he wanted revenge.

Mickey came up to me at my desk and I asked, "what did he say?"

She took a breath before she answered, "he said that he will tell Captain Briody, but there isn't anything they can legally do."

"Bullshit," I muttered through my gritted teeth.

"It's fine, I'm sure the threats will stop soon. He's just some punk kid, it's not a big deal."

"He's not just some punk kid. He escaped jail, and was in a gang."

"I'll be fine," she reassured again and we both got back to work. I found myself always looking over at her as she stayed focused on her job. I felt guilty and bad for her. She's a poster child, she doesn't deserve this.

The threats started getting worse over the week. One night, I was with Mickey at her apartment and someone knocked on the door. She went to answer it, but I stopped her.

"What are you doing?" She asked while her hand was on the doorknob.

"Standard protocol for this is you go into the other room. You know this," I said and started to guide her to her own bedroom.

"Come on, it's not gonna be a big deal," she whined.

"You're stubborn and that's an adorable quality. You know what's not an adorable quality? Being dead," I said and shut her bedroom door on her while she scoffed at me.

I headed to the front door and opened it quietly. No one was there, but there was a shoebox on the floor. I brought it in and let her come out of the bedroom. We opened it together on her table and saw that it was a mutilated cat in the box.

"Holy shit," I mumbled and quickly put the lid back over the corpse.

"Oh my god," she gasped and put her hand over her mouth. Her eyes welled with tears, mixed with fear and pain.

I ran out and down the hall, but I didn't see anybody. Whoever had left it was long gone. I retreated back into her apartment and shut the door.

Mickey's hand was shaking as she tried to keep her voice calm enough to ask, "why is this happening to me?"

I hugged her tightly. My voice was low as I said, "I don't know... I don't know."

Quincy even started calling Jump Street, making threats at us and directed toward Mickey. It was happening constantly, like he was teasing us. We haven't been able to do anything to stop him, and everyone knows it's going to escalate until it's too late.

I tried to plant the idea in Fuller's head that we should put Mickey is some sort of witness protection. Her life is obviously in jeopardy, and I don't think simply relocating her would stop Quincy. He is a gang member and a reputed drug trafficker. He has connections, and will inevitably find her and certainly hurt her. He thought that was overkill, but I still believe that would have been the best thing for her.

I was sitting at my desk one day when the phone began to ring. I answered, "Hanson."

The deep voice on the other end of the line brought shivers up my spine. I flagged Fuller over and handed him the phone. Fuller brought it up to his ear and his facial expression told me that it was another threat directed toward us or Mickey.

He slammed the phone down and frantically shouted, "where's Gregg?!"

Mickey turned around from the other side of the chapel where she was standing at the copier and asked, "what's up?"

Fuller pointed at her and said, "don't get out of my sight. You're going on lockdown."

"What did I do?" She asked defeatedly.

"There was another call," I said.

"But I thought that there was nothing that could be done," she said.

Fuller was pissed. He said, "they'll do something now." He picked up the phone again and angrily called the station while Mickey started to pack her things. He said, "Briody, it's Fuller. One of my officers is being threatened and it's escalated. I want your team on this and shut it down. Now." He slammed the phone down again and this time directed his attention toward me. "I want you to take her home and don't leave her side until I get there."

"Yes, sir," I said. "When this is all said and done, I'd like to hang his head on my wall."

I waited for Mickey to collect her stuff before we ran out of the chapel together and down the stairs. We jumped into my car, and I promised to bring her her car later.

We drove all the way to her apartment building, and I was not going to take any chances. She unlocked her apartment, and I held my gun up and checked every closet, every corner, and every room. I didn't see anyone, so I let her come in. I felt a lot better after checking, and I'm sure she did too.

"You really don't have to stay." She tried to play it off like this wasn't a big deal but I didn't listen to her.

"No, I'm staying," I said firmly.

She rolled her eyes. I knew that she was annoyed, but I didn't care. I just wanted her safe. She's very stubborn and hard-headed, so I knew I had to stay firm with her.

I didn't leave her side until Fuller knocked on the door. I walked to the door and opened it for him.

"Hey guys," Fuller said. I shut the door behind him and Mickey met us.

She asked, "what's happening?"

Fuller said, "I got in contact with Briody, and we are going to get officers stationed right outside your apartment building until we catch this guy."

"That means I can't leave, right?"

"That's right." He turned to me and asked, "did you do a sweep?"

I nodded, "checked every nook and cranny, no one is here."

"That's good. Since we are going to have guys watching from the outside, it's best that Mickey be alone. Understand?"

"Got it," Mick said.

"All right," I said.

"But Briody couldn't get anyone to come for tonight, the first officer will arrive tomorrow morning. You call me if anything happens, got it?" Fuller said firmly.

"Got it," Mickey agreed.

"I'm not leaving," I said firmly. I shook my head. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'll be fine. I'll have my goon squad parked out front."

"Goon squad or not, I'm not going anywhere." I turned to Fuller and said, "I'm not going anywhere."

Mickey said, "please, Tom. I appreciate this but go home, you won't be able to sleep if you're here worrying about me."

"I won't be able to sleep no matter where I am," I said. "I'm staying here."

"Tom, it's okay," she said.

"I don't want to argue with you."

"Hanson," Fuller stated. When I looked at him, all he said was, "let's go."

Fuller began to leave so I turned to Mickey and asked, "are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

She smiled softly. "Go home and get some sleep."

"Are you going to be okay?"

She nodded, "of course. Go, I'll be fine."

I wish I could force myself to stay, but I knew I couldn't. I pointed to her front door and said, "if anybody walks through that door, you fire. You hear me?"

She nodded. "M-hmm, I hear you."

"You're breaking my heart, here."

She laughed and said, "go. It'll be fine. I'll call you in the morning, okay?"

"Okay," I sighed.

I was hesitant, but I left anyway. Mickey went on house arrest. Even though it was against Fuller's orders, I swung by just to check on her after every shift and I called her so much I'm sure I annoyed her, even though she said that she did enjoy talking to me. I tried to check on her as much as I could, but it was so hard to focus at work while I knew that she was stressing up there alone.

I had just gotten home from work and I called her, as I always did. I memorized her phone number. I called her once and it went to voicemail. My eyebrows stitched together as I tried to wonder why she didn't answer the phone. She should be at home. I called again, and waited a couple of rings before she answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Hanson," I told her.

"Hey, Tom," she said, "how was work?"

"Good. Got a bust down in Berkeley."

"You'll have to tell me all about it when my babysitter is relieved of duty," she giggled. I wish I could see her face.

"They haven't caught him yet?" I asked. Every day, I hoped that he would be caught so Mickey could finally leave without feeling like her life was in danger. I couldn't imagine how she was feeling.

"Nope, so that means I still can't leave my apartment."

"How about I come to you?" I suggested, "have you eaten yet?"

"Not yet."

"How does soup sound?"

"I love soup."

"I'll pick up your favorite. I'll be over in a half hour."

"See you then." We hung up.

She loves soup, for whatever reason. Especially since it's gotten colder out. Her favorite is broccoli cheddar. I went to the store to pick up some bowls of soup and a baguette for dipping, and headed over to her apartment.

I parked and held the plastic bag in my hands gently. I walked over and saw the light on in Officer Levinson's car. I was concerned, because he always comes out to question me before I go up to see Mickey, since I'm not technically allowed to. I set the soup down and tip toed over to the door and peered in through the window. Luckily the soup was already on the ground, otherwise I would have dropped it. Blood was everywhere, and there was a bullet that went through his forehead.

I frantically opened the door and grabbed the radio. "Dispatch, this is Officer Thomas Hanson of Jump Street. I'm at 1356 Swan Lane, Gregg's residence, and we have an officer down. I repeat, Officer down. Send back up, immediately."

"10-4."

I dropped the radio and overheard dispatch calling out for back up. At that moment, the distinct sound of a gunshot rang out which made me snap my head to what I recognized to be Mickey's window.

"Oh my god, Mickey," I gasped. There was a light on in her window, but I didn't see any shadows moving. I booked it into the building, running as fast as I could. I might already be too late.

I ran faster than I have ever run before. She's on the third floor, so I had to bolt up the stairs as fast as I could. I nearly broke down her door from how fast I opened it and I pulled out my gun. I shouted in my most intimidating voice, "freeze! Police!"

I got there just in time. I saw a big guy standing in her bathroom doorway. He held her close to him with his gun pointed at her head. I saw her face, and her eyes were closed and her red cheeks were glistening under the florescent lights. She looked so small, I have never seen her so vulnerable before.

When he didn't move, I ordered in a booming voice, "hands in the air!"

He finally let Mickey go and she fell to the floor while he took a couple steps back and finally put his hands in the air. I approached him with my gun, and noticed that he was actually holding two guns. I shouted, "guns down, now!" I flashed him my badge and said, "you're under arrest."

He slowly turned back to Mickey but slowly reached down and set both guns by his feet. Mickey pulled both of the guns out of his reach while I grabbed him angrily and shoved him against the wall. I pulled my handcuffs out from my pocket and read him his Miranda Rights while I handcuffed his hands behind his back.

"If you move, I will break your neck. Do you hear me?" I threatened in his ear.

A few officers came through the door and took him away. They were stepping on broken glass of a vase that crashed onto the floor that I didn't notice earlier. All the flowers were thrown about in the living room, with water slowly soaking into her floor. Out of the corner of my eye, Mickey stood up from being on the floor and I turned to her.

The floor was covered in shattered pieces of porcelain in both large chunks and small slivers. I realized it came from her toilet seat lid that was now missing. She must have used it to try to defend herself.

"Mick," I said and walked up to her and gave her a hug. I was blinded by relief that she was okay. She was shaking under my arms, and her hair was soaking wet. Out of sheer relief, I kissed the top of her head and asked, "are you all right?"

We pulled away and she said, "I'm fine. Just spooked is all."

"I don't blame you," I said, "I pulled up and... well, he shot Levinson. I ran up here as fast as I could."

"Is Levinson going to be okay?" She asked.

I shook my head, "he was gone before I even got here."

"Oh my god. I didn't even hear the gunshot."

"Yeah," I replied softly.

"You could have been killed," she said with a scolding tone.

"So could you. And I wasn't about to let that happen."

I felt guilty that I couldn't protect her. This should never have happened. I was sick at the thought that no matter what we did, he wasn't stopped. We knew his name, we knew what he looked like. He should have been found and stopped. We could have been too late.

My eyes wondered down for just a moment before I realized that she was clad in only a towel. I quickly turned around and felt guilty for hugging her. I hope I didn't make her uncomfortable. I stammered, "I-uh, I'll let you get dressed and I'll bring in the food."

I left her apartment and took a breath when I got out to the hallway. I ran my hand over my face, and rubbed my chin as I processed what just went down tonight. I lumbered down the hallway, feeling like I was sleepwalking. I couldn't get Mickey's face out of my head, or how my hands longed to just hold her.

I got outside and found the bowls of soup. The cop cars were already gone, but a few officers stayed to take care of Levinson's body. I came back with the bag of two to-go containers of soup and bread.

Mickey was in gray sweatpants and an oversized white shirt by the time I came back upstairs and she turned on her television. We sat on her couch eating soup together. This was such a scary night, I know I would not want to be alone if it happened to me. I'm glad that she won't be getting anymore threats though.

"When are you going home?" She asked.

"Is this about... over there?" I asked and pointed loosely toward the bathroom. "I saw nothing. It's important that you know how much I didn't see."

"No," Mickey giggled. "It's getting late so when are you heading home?"

"Tomorrow," I replied firmly.

She sighed, "you don't have to stay. I'm fine."

I eyed Mickey, and refused to listen to her. I know she acts strong, but I've been her partner for a while now, and I have learned to read her pretty well. Me staying over may have been more comforting for me than for her, but I know that she appreciated it even if she won't say it. Honestly, I think that the girls at the chapel feel like they need to prove themselves more since this is such a male dominated industry. She probably felt like admitting fear would be like admitting that she can't do her job, but it's not the same at all.

I said, "how about this. You let me stay the night, and I'll make breakfast."

She chewed on her lip for a moment and requested, "waffles?"

"Deal," I smiled.

"Fine," she said.

"I'll take the couch."

Night after night I spent the night on her couch. She doesn't deserve to feel vulnerable in her own home. I stayed until she felt comfortable and safe enough to be on her own again. And I'd do it a million times over.

Thanks for reading!! Next chapter will be Tom's version of Haunted House!!