For the record, I have no idea where I'm going with this story. This was honestly just an idea that popped into my head after working on one of my NCIS fanfics, watching too many episodes of 21 Jump Street, and reading a NCIS story on here: The Wolf That Loved Movies by dracea5. Let me know if it's any good and if I should continue.
This story takes place early Season 1, since Jenko is still around. In my little world, he never died, and besides, I like him better than Fuller. This is also wildly AU, since I have elements of the paranormal. And since Halloween is this month . . . :)
Summary: While working a case, Hanson is attacked by a teen 'wolf and transforms himself. How can he keep it a secret from the rest of the team?
The Jump Street unit was staking out a house from across the street, since they suspected one of the kids in the family was a drug dealer. Correction: Tom Hanson and Judy Hoffs were. Doug Penhall, Harry Ioki, and Captain Richard Jenko were each at home, sound asleep.
"How much longer, Hanson?" Hoffs asked.
The newbie on the team was about to answer when he spotted movement: a seventeen-year-old boy with long blond hair wearing jeans and a black T-shirt with a black leather jacket had just put up the garage door. They could easily see the lights on, the full moon giving them good visibility. The junior, John Bryant, hopped on his dirt bike and rode away, heading towards University Park. Hanson said, "I say we follow him, Jude."
"You think?" she said sarcastically, shifting her car into gear. Silently they pulled off of the curb and followed the high school kid, headlights on low beam. If Judy could've, she would have turned the headlights off, but she needed the extra light; the light by the full moon wasn't enough to see by. The kid didn't seem to have a problem with the poor visibility, though. He drove through the streets as if it were daylight.
"There's something odd about this kid, Judy," Hanson muttered.
She silently agreed, but he didn't seem to notice. Tom suddenly bolted upright in his seat, eyes straining through the gloom. "Stop. Now." His voice was taut.
The car had barely slowed to a stop before the twenty-one-year-old cop was on the street, having hit the ground running.
"Hanson, where're you going?" he heard Hoffs call after him. Part of him wanted to answer, but a stronger part didn't. He kept sprinting in the direction he'd seen John Bryant go in.
Trees thinned and moonlight filled the clearing. The Jump Street officer stopped dead, terror making his heart freeze. He couldn't move.
In front of him was a golden-furred 'wolf with green eyes, its fur bristling and teeth showing. Beside the Canis lupis was clothing that matched Bryant's. Before Hanson could even begin to process that, a low growl issued from the 'wolf's throat and it leaped, teeth bared and claws outstretched.
Tom could only duck and hope it would miss. The werewolf—at least, he suspected it was a werewolf—overshot but turned rapidly. It lunged before he could react, teeth sinking into his side.
Pain racked his body; he felt as if he were on fire. A scream bubbled up in his throat, but he bit it back, not wanting to alert Hoffs something was wrong. In a weird way, he wanted to protect her.
Pieces of forgotten, half-buried legends came back to him now. The bite, a full moon . . . okay, he was screwed. Hanson didn't ask to be bitten and here he was about to transform—
The pain built and built, and finally . . . nothing.
When the undercover cop opened his mouth to speak, all that came out was a bark. Startled, he looked down at his feet and jumped into the air. Where his feet should've been were paws. Hanson couldn't process that. He quickly turned in a circle and found he was chasing his tail, dark brown like his hair, as was the rest of his fur coat.
Then he realized the golden 'wolf had shifted back to Bryant, who was now dressed and racing away. A series of curses flew to mind, but in 'wolf form, all that he could manage were snarls, growls, and barks. Okay, this isn't working. How do I change back?
The only thing that came to mind was picturing himself as how he used to be. Hanson concentrated and, with a quick shimmer, found he was human again. Not surprisingly, his clothes were shredded beyond recognition.
The sound of feet pounding on the grass alerted him to Judy Hoffs' presence. He whirled around just as she entered the clearing, weapon drawn. "Don't shoot!" he said, throwing up his hands. "It's just me."
The black cop blinked in surprise and holstered her gun. "Hanson, what happened?" she asked, taking in the fact that their quarry was gone and he looked terrible.
He looked at her with fearful brown eyes. "Jude, I need help."