January 1989
I got a call from Fuller last night telling me to come in for our daily table update at five this morning. We have never had to come in that early before. When I asked why, he said it was because Mickey had to be at school extra early all week.
Still groggy and frustrated that I had to come in early, I walked into Jump Street holding a forbidden coffee in my hands, and I had forgotten to brush my hair before I got there. I sat down at the table and was still half asleep until I saw Mickey walk out of the bathroom wearing black sweatpants and a sweatshirt and her hair was up in a ponytail. She had her backpack slung over her shoulder, and she looked as tired as I felt.
"How's it going over at Lincoln?" Fuller asked Mickey and downed his entire mug of coffee.
I looked up at Mickey and noticed that she was already looking at me. She immediately darted her eyes down at her paper and reported, "I am definitely noticing tension between the gymnasts and the coach. She is very tough on the girls."
"She has to be if she wants them to be good," Doug said groggily. He folded his arms on the table and let his head rest on them.
"I know, but it's excessive. I can understand why visitors aren't necessarily allowed... It's hard to tell after one practice though," Mickey said, "and another thing... the athletic trainer."
"What about him?" Fuller asked.
"He— I might just be reading too much into this but he gives me a bad feeling."
Fuller asked seriously, "are you sure?"
"I'm not sure sure, but I think I will start giving him some more attention," she said.
"Good idea," Fuller said, "I need you to find out if there's any abuse coming from the athletic trainer."
"Is that really a good idea, Fuller?" I asked. I care about Mickey, and I don't want her to be put in a position like that, even if it's for an assignment.
"She's an adult, Hanson," Fuller said, "she will be fine."
"I am a trained police officer, Hanson," she said teasingly as she stood up from her chair. "I'll be fine."
"Yeah. And maybe we can watch her practice," Booker spoke up. I had to refrain from rolling my eyes. Does he think that's funny?
"Not gonna happen," Mickey told him with a flat tone. I'm glad that she wasn't falling for his pathetic flirting. We don't need him so why is he here?
"Anything else?" Fuller asked her.
"No, sir." She shook her head.
"Okay, you are free to go. Have a good practice."
"Oh, I will," she replied sarcastically.
She collected her things and headed to the door. Fuller said to me, "Hanson, give me a status report."
"Uh—St. Andrews High has a band of Nazi's parading around the school, harassing pretty much everyone," I said.
"How close are you to a bust?" He asked.
"Either today or tomorrow. I'm real close."
"Great," Fuller said and recorded my answer.
"All that in a leotard? Sign me up for gymnastics," Booker said after Mickey left the chapel.
I pointed at him like a tattling toddler and said, "Fuller?! Do you not hear him?"
Fuller sighed and said, "Booker, you have to have more appropriate comments while you're at work."
"You're right, I'm sorry," Booker said, but he didn't sound very sincere to me. I clenched my jaw and fiddled with my thumbs, just trying to focus on anything but Booker.
Then he turned to Ioki, "Ioki, how's it going over at Melrose Academy?"
As Ioki was giving his report, the door opened again and Mickey came back inside. I noticed Fuller look first, then I did.
"Need something, Gregg?" He asked.
"Yeah, a ride. My car won't start."
"I can give you a lift. Lincoln High, right?" I asked as I stood up and grabbed my jacket.
"That's right," she said to me when I walked up to her. I turned to Fuller and asked if it was all right.
"Yeah," Fuller agreed.
"Are you just being this nice and driving her to get out of being here at five in the morning?" Doug asked.
"Absolutely. Ciao, babe." I winked and made a kissing noise at Doug, and then I slipped through the door so I could start getting down to my car.
Mickey came out and closed the door behind her, so I waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. I could see her smirking a bit, hopefully thinking of the wisecrack I made at Doug but was too proud to admit that I made her laugh.
I drove her to the school and she told me where I could drop her off.
"How is the assignment really going?" I asked. I'm not going to lie, she looked rough. I could not imagine that this assignment was easy on her physically or mentally.
"Let's just say, if I do not have a solid six-pack of abdominal muscles by the end of this assignment, I'll be very disappointed," she joked.
"Okay," I chuckled. "I'll pick you up?"
"That would be great," she said as she stepped out of the car and grabbed her bag, "I end at 6 o'clock."
"Isn't school out at 2:45?" I asked.
"Yeah, I have to stay back an extra hour after practice."
"Man. Twelve hour school day?" I asked. I wasn't too much into athletics growing up, so I cringed at the thought of working out at an ungodly hour in the morning for a couple hours, having a six hour school day, then completing another three hours of exercise after... or longer. Especially such an intense sport like gymnastics. How is that possible, or moral? "That's tough."
She nodded, "good thing this is temporary. I'll see you tonight."
"Bye," I said. Mickey shut the car door and walked to the gym. I put my hand on the back of the passengers seat head rest and watched her as she scurried up to the gym door. She turned back to me and gave me a wave. I lifted my hand up to wave back, then she went into the gym. I took a moment to gaze at the gym doors before I rested back in my seat. I drove off and went back to the chapel.
After my bust at St. Andrews High, I finished my paperwork relatively early and right before I was going to figure out what I wanted to do next, my phone rang. I picked up the receiver and balanced it between my ear and my shoulder.
"Hanson," I greeted.
"Hey, babe," I heard on the other end.
My voice dropped a little when I said, "oh, hey, Jackie."
"I was wondering if you wanted to come over and watch a movie with me tonight. I just bought a new popcorn maker so we can make some if we want."
I pondered her request for a moment, because that did not sound like much fun. Not that she's not fun, but I just didn't want to do that tonight. I tried to think of an excuse that I haven't used yet and then I remembered that I actually do have plans. "Sorry, I can't. I have work."
She nearly scoffed, "at six?"
"Yeah. I have to pick up Mickey from her case," I told her. I've talked about Mickey a bit to Jackie, so even though they haven't met formally yet, Jackie knows who she is.
"Well, where is she?"
"She's at Lincoln High."
"Can't she drive herself?"
"Her car broke down this morning," I stated.
"There are buses."
I chuckled in disbelief. "I would never make one of my coworkers take the bus. Besides, the buses don't run that late."
"City buses do."
"Jackie."
"What? I haven't seen you in forever and you hung out with her a couple days ago."
"Come on, it's for work."
"Why does she have to be at the school so late anyway?"
"She is practicing with the gymnasts for her assignment."
"Oh."
"What?"
She groaned, "nothing. So, you're not coming over tonight?"
"That's right," I said firmly.
"Fine, whatever."
"I'll make it up to you. I'll take you out for lunch on Saturday, okay?"
"Fine. Bye."
She hung up before I could say anything else. I sighed and put the phone back on the base and I checked the clock. I still had a little time before I had to go to Lincoln High to pick up Mickey, but I was intrigued to see what she was doing over there. I was still a little upset by my phone call with Jackie, so I wanted to get my mind off of it. I grabbed my jacket and left.
I parked my car in the schools parking lot and walked through the gym doors. It smelled like feet and chalk, and I immediately saw the giant blue floor that the girls perform their routines on. I also saw uneven bars toward the back of the gym, off to the side was the vault, and the balance beams were on the other side.
I saw a girl sitting on the edge of the floor while a coach wearing a dark track suit wrapped white tape carefully around her toes and foot.
"Michelle! Let's see what you've got!" The coach yelled while finishing up her tape job. I walked closer to the floor and saw the line of girls in small leotards lined up on the edge of the floor, all waiting their turn.
I almost didn't recognize Mickey as she stepped forward for her turn. She wore a black leotard that looked like a swim suit, and her hair was pulled up and out of her face. I've only ever really seen her with her hair down, and that was enough to make her look different.
I noticed that she blew a raspberry before she began running powerfully fast down the floor. I don't know the technical terms, but she bounced and jumped and flipped around backwards and twisted somewhere in the middle before landing on her feet, facing the direction she started. My jaw physically dropped because I was in absolute astonishment at what she could do.
She looked down at her feet as she walked off the floor and her coach said, "keep your head level, you're throwing it back a little."
I didn't see a single thing wrong with what she just did. It looked flawless. But I'm not a professional so what would I know? She accepted the criticism and pulled at her hair to tighten her ponytail. I leaned against a nearby wall and stuck my hands in my pockets.
I spoke up when she was close enough to me, "I thought it was pretty good."
She froze and spun around to look at me. I couldn't help at smile at the way her face lit up. Her face was red and she was glowing with sweat.
She trotted up to me and asked, "what are you doing here?"
She looked happy to see me, but she looked very drained. I could still see the dark circles that darkened her hazel eyes. The loving in her eyes pulled me closer, it's so subtle and it might get me into some trouble. But, I'd love to be in trouble with her.
I gave her a hug, and I felt most of her body weight in my arms. I wished I could hold her longer, but I opened my eyes and looked past her to see her coach flaring her nostrils at me. I said, "just wanted to see my girl at practice, that's all."
Her coach was furious. She nearly shouted, "Michelle. Floor. Now."
Mickey widened her eyes at me before she left. I got back to my wall and her coach came up to me and said, "visitors are not allowed in the gym during practice."
"I'm sorry. I'm going, I'm going." I put my hands up in surrender and turned around to leave.
"Michelle!" The coach yelled, "I want to see you do your back pass, then your front pass, then your back pass all in a row. Go."
Before I reached the door, I turned back just to see Mickey tumble again. It was so fascinating, because it's almost inhuman. All these girls are machines. She ran and performed the same trick that I saw when I first got there, and it didn't fail to impress me. Then, she immediately ran to do a new trick where she launched herself forward and did a front flip after the upside down trick, then began the first backward trick again.
Before her last pass, I noticed that her breathing was deep and she was having difficulty catching her breath. I've seen her use an inhaler before, so I was concerned that it had something to do with her asthma. I know she only has problems when she is doing strenuous exercise, and this counts. I took a few steps away from the door and let it close behind me as I watched her intently.
Her exhaustion got the better of her, because during her last flip, it wasn't as high as the other times that I watched. When she landed, a sharp crack sound nearly echoed in the gym and she collapsed to the ground.
"Mickey!" I called out dramatically and rushed to her aid. I was coming in hot, so I fell and slid on my knees when I reached her. Her face immediately fell pale, and she looked like she was going to be sick.
I tried to put my arms around her but she weakly push me away. The coach told her to walk it off, and it took lots of self control for me not to yell at her.
Mickey said shakily, "I'm fine."
I didn't believe her though. I kept my arms near her as she tried to stand back up, but she hissed and fell again. I caught her before she could hit the ground, and I picked her up. I held her close to me, and I stood up and started walking off the floor.
The coach was yelling at Mickey, telling her that she could never be a true gymnast, how she was being a wuss, and lots of other hurtful statements that made me bite my tongue. Mickey rested her head against my chest, and I felt her finally relax in my arms.
I was careful to open my car door to avoid hitting her foot, which was turning black and blue before my eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that it was broken, and I had to take her to the hospital as soon as I could.
As soon as I got her sat down on the seat, I found an inhaler of hers that she left in my glove box and helped her take the medicine. Once I was confident that she wouldn't have an asthma attack, I asked her if she was okay. She nodded, too sick and upset to say anything. I immediately retracted my request and I promised her that I would be right back. I needed to tell Fuller what had happened. She looked too nauseous to respond, so I ran to the pay phone and made my call.
My talk with Fuller ended not the way I would have wished. He wanted me to ask Mickey if she would be comfortable going to the athletic trainer. I was very against the idea, but if I could be in the room with her I'd feel better.
I walked back to the car to see that she was sweating profusely, staring down at the ground with her lips trembling. I've never broken a bone, but I know that you can get nauseous from it. I glanced at her foot, seeing the bruising and the swelling was even more noticeable than before.
I told her everything that Fuller and I talked about. She nodded along, and I ended it with saying that I could take her to the hospital right then. I didn't want to influence her in what I wanted, no matter how badly I wanted her to do it.
She shook her head, "take me to Alex. This might be the last chance we have at busting this guy."
I sighed, knowing full well that she was going to say that. I wished I didn't give her the option. I could have told Fuller that I asked her, and she chose to go to the hospital instead. Who am I kidding? He wouldn't have believed that.
I carefully picked her back up and glanced at her poor foot once again. I looked away and carefully carried her back into the school.
"Feels like someone dropped a dumbbell on it," she said, sounding a little bit more like herself.
"Looks like it too," I agreed in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Mickey guided me to the athletic trainers office where we came up to a big blue door. I asked her to hold on, so she wrapped her arms around my neck and I used the hand that was supporting her back to knock on the door. I quickly retreated my arm back under her back so she could relax.
The door opened to a man in a track suit, and he asked what had happened. I told him that she landed on it wrong while tumbling, and he immediately told me to set her down on the bed. I walked in and was overwhelmed by the nasty smell of feet, but I set Mickey down on the bed anyway and took a step back.
The athletic trainer said, "thanks, I'll take it from here."
"Great," I said and crossed my arms.
He peered over his shoulder at me as he began to tend to Mickey and he said, "I need you to leave the room."
My eyes bugged at the audacity and I refused, "no, I think I'm fine right where I am."
"Tom," Mickey said to me. Whenever she says my name, my heart flutters a little. I locked eyes with her, and she said, "it's okay, really. You can go."
I huffed and stared daggers at the smirking trainer as I left. I shut the door behind me softly, so the latch didn't close, and I bolted to the pay phone while fumbling for coins in my pocket. I called the Metro Station and requested back up, because I could not see how this visit would end well.
My request was granted, and they said that a patrol car was nearby so someone would be there soon. I thanked them and we hung up. I marched back into the school and when I got to the hallway I could hear my name being screamed in a blood curdling manner.
"Tom! Tom!" Mickey's voice shouted for me.
I bolted down the hallway and burst in the room to see the trainer being pushed back by Mickey and her sleeve was off. Anger burned in my eyes as I stormed up to the man and arrested him immediately. An officer from the station came in and I passed off the trainer onto him and told him everything. He deserves to rot in jail for the rest of his life.
I walked up to Mickey and asked, "are you all right?"
"I'm just spooked is all, I just want to go home," she said. I didn't blame her.
"Do you want me to call you an ambulance?" One of the other officers asked us.
"No—" I shook my head "—I'll drive her."
I held Mickey close to me once again as I carefully carried her back to my car. I didn't want anything to touch her foot, not even gravity. We drove to the hospital and I avoided sharp turns or even accelerating too fast. I peered at her worriedly as we drove.
The emergency room was not too busy, so the doctors were able to see her right away. Especially after I introduced her as Officer Michelle Gregg.
I waited in the waiting room for her whole visit. They gave her x-rays, and she came out wearing a thick white cast, using a pair of crutches, and holding a bottle of pain medication. I drove her home, and made sure she was comfortable in her apartment before I left. Only to return an hour later with pizza and sodas for dinner.
We watched a new episode of Full House, which I was never a big fan of watching with Mickey. She always swooned over Uncle Jesse, and now that she was on pain killers it made her crush on him more emphasized. I shouldn't be jealous of her little celebrity crush though... I have a girlfriend.
The channel played an episode of Family Matters, Perfect Strangers, and Just the Ten of Us, but I had never really watched them before. Mickey and I ended up talking through those shows, and eventually she looked at her watch after yawning.
"Oh, wow," she said, "it's midnight."
"Gee, will you look at that," I said and finished the last of my pizza slice. It had gotten cold from the hours it's been out on her coffee table, but I didn't mind.
"I think it's time for you to go home," she said.
"But—but what if you need help getting your pain meds? Or... to walk to the restroom... or to shower with your cast? Or if you get hungry and don't want to get up?"
She chuckled, "Tom. I broke my foot. I didn't have extensive internal surgery."
"Just let me stay and help you," I nearly pleaded. I didn't really want to go home yet.
"Go home," she said.
"But—"
"No buts. I have my crutches, and my pills are right here—" she leaned forward to shake the pill bottle that sat on her coffee table, "—and I think my will to live will be enough for me to get up and go into the kitchen. And even if you were here, I'd never need help taking a shower. Understood?"
"Understood," I sighed with a smile.
"I'll walk you out," she said and I tried to tell her it was unnecessary, but she insisted that she would need to lock the door after me anyway. Why couldn't she just give me a copy of her keys so I can lock it? It's not like I'm never coming back.
I gave her a hug and said, "I'll be back tomorrow."
She trembled under my arms from laughing and she said, "all right. I look forward to it."
I pulled away and she waved me out, and as soon as I got to the hallway of her apartment complex, she shut and locked the door.
She didn't show up to work the next day, and Fuller said that he gave her the day to recuperate and recover. I was still pissed at Fuller for giving Mickey the option, but I could understand. If she didn't, that trainer would still be able to abuse those young girls.
That night, I knocked on her door with bowls of soup in styrofoam to-go bowls. She opened the door with a smile and welcomed me in.
"Sit down on the couch," I ordered, "I'll bring the soup to you."
She couldn't do much arguing because she would probably spill it. She changed the channel and I came by with a bowl of the hot soup in my hands and I placed it on her lap gently before going back to the kitchen for mine.
"Broccoli cheddar?" She asked.
"Of course."
"Right on," she said and I heard her take her first spoonful.
I walked to the couch with my own bowl and I sat down and set it in my lap. Our night was very similar to the night before. We watched the shows, ate our soup, and talked.
It was nearing midnight again when Mickey was trying to kick me out. I asked, "when are you coming back to work?"
"Tomorrow."
"Then shouldn't I stay? If I'm picking you up for work anyway."
She scoffed, "who said that you're picking me up?"
"I do."
"My right foot—my driving foot—is just fine, thank you," she chuckled. I loved making her laugh. I admired the way her eyes would brighten, and the wrinkle of her nose was so endearing.
"Are you sure?" I asked, "I can come, you know. We can get coffee."
"Thank you, but I'm fine," she said. She walked me to the door and kicked me out.
Thanks for reading! ❤️ next chapter will be an original Tom chapter, where Mickey meets Jackie!