Michelle "Mickey" Gregg is an undercover cop for the Jump Street Program. She has been working with Doug Penhall, Judy Hoffs, and Harry Ioki for two years. Her new partner, Tom Hanson, joins the team and these are their cases.
Revolved around the 1...
It was a few weeks after Tom was released from prison for a crime he did not commit. The cop he supposedly killed was a dirty cop who was supplying weapons to the gang that Tom went undercover with. The entire situation was messy, but luckily we were able to get Tom out of it.
Ioki got out of the hospital and has reluctantly been taking it easy. Tom and I went over to his apartment a couple of times with some home-cooked dinners and movies to watch with him. He did the same for me when I was recovering from getting shot, so it was only appropriate that I returned the favor. I also love going to his apartment because it's always so tidy and clean.
Tom quickly got back into the swing of things, and seemed happier, especially since Booker had resigned and relocated to work undercover for an insurance company. Apparently, he broke a lot of rules in order to clear Tom's name. I found it admirable, considering that he was not a big fan of Tom's either. We got along pretty well while we were working together to get Tom out of jail, so it was unfortunate that he had to leave so soon.
I found myself knocking on Tom's apartment door in the middle of the night. I had hugged my coat around my body in the cold, and waited for him to answer the door. The eerie feeling of someone watching me had not left since I got home from work.
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It took a couple minutes but Tom eventually opened the door with his face scrunched under the bright lights. He had a pink blanket draped over his shoulders, and his hair was tossed all over the place on top of his head.
"Hey, I'm really sorry to drag you out of bed," I said to him.
"No, no, it's—" he cleared his throat as he leaned against the open door, "what's up?"
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"Well, nothing really. I just, um, I keep hearing these weird noises in my apartment. I thought I might feel better if I slept here," I said. I would have been embarrassed about this situation if it was anyone but Tom. He may not know about the Polaroid of myself sleeping that was left by my bed, but he was there the night that gang member, Quincy, broke into my apartment. Or when Brian snuck into my apartment and killed my beloved Pacino. Things like that don't usually get to me, but I have been having trouble sleeping ever since those nights. Especially when I watch a horror film, which I made that mistake last night. I hate to admit that he is right: I cannot handle my horror.
