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Cries of a Shadow	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2757 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Later that night
The familiarity of the Hansons' cream-painted door sent a touch of déjà vu snaking down Booker’s spine. By showing up unannounced, he was aware he was about to break Will’s cardinal rule, but there was a part of him that didn’t care. Always the rebel, he refused to conform to the elder Hanson’s regime. He owed Tom an explanation, and without a telephone number, he had no choice but to turn up at his door and deliver an apology in person.
Inside the apartment, the sound of voices carried through the wall, followed by laughter. For a split second, Booker thought it was Tom and Will joking around, and his face relaxed into a smile. However, he quickly realized the jovial banter was not coming from the occupants, but was, in fact, only the television. His smile slowly faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown. Try as he might, he couldn’t imagine life inside the Hanson apartment. There was something odd about the brother’s relationship, a disharmony he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and it wasn’t just because Will ruled the roost. Taking a position of authority wasn’t uncommon in older siblings, and therefore, nothing unusual. What bothered Booker was the flicker of fear he’d witnessed in Tom’s eyes when Will had arrived at the mayor’s party. Not to mention his transformation from a shy, yet debonair young man into a shoe-shuffling, stuttering fool in the space of only a minute. But it wasn't just his brother's physical presence that caused the young officer emotional distress. The very mention of Will’s name was enough to elicit a reaction, leaving Booker with the impression there was more to the brothers’ relationship than met the eye. It was obvious Will was a bully, but why Tom continued to kowtow to him was a mystery, and the psychology behind their dysfunctional kinship fascinated him. While he had his own healthy sibling rivalry with his sister, Kathy, Will Hanson’s need to dominate his brother was bordering on sociopathic. As an outsider, it was unsettling for Booker to witness, and he made a silent vow to himself to find out more about the man who appeared to control every aspect of his friend’s life.
With that thought in mind, the dark-haired officer lifted a hand and rapped his knuckles on the door. Memories of Will’s unwelcoming demeanor had him taking a step back, giving himself enough room to counteract any unprovoked attacked if necessary. He trusted the elder Hanson about as much as he trusted the perpetrators of the crimes he investigated, and he was prepared for the unexpected. But his concern proved unwarranted. When the door opened, it was Tom’s eyes, not Will’s, who peeked out from behind the cream paneling.
“D-Dennis?” the young officer stuttered, his surprise draining the color from his face. “Wh-what are you doing here.”
Not about to pass up the opportunity to see inside his friend’s apartment, Booker didn’t wait for an invitation. Instead, he pushed past Tom and walked straight into his home. After glancing around the immaculate living area, the dark-haired officer's gaze settled on Will. “Hey,” he greeted, his audacious acclamation leaving the elder brother speechless. Pleased he’d managed to put one over the obnoxious officer, Booker hid a smug smile before turning his attention back to Tom. “Sorry for coming around uninvited, but I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have gone to the BoHo without you.”
Horrified by the dramatic scene unfolding inside his home, Tom’s muscles tightened. He remained perfectly still, his frightened eyes flitting between Booker and Will, his fearful gaze watchful. Both officers were alpha males, but as it stood, Booker had the upper hand. However, if there was one thing Tom knew about his brother, it was that Will prided himself on his ability to reign supreme within the walls of his own home, and with that thought in mind, the worried officer prepared himself for a showdown.
On the other side of the room, Will’s actions almost mirrored Tom’s. He stood with his shoulders tensed, his fingers slowly clenching and unclenching, his brachialis clearly visible with each flexing action. But unlike his brother, his dark eyes shone with annoyance, not fear. It was blatantly obvious that despite his warnings, Tom had gone against his wishes and pursued a friendship with the irritating dark-haired officer. The awakening knowledge breathed life into Will’s inner green-eyed monster, his envy blistering to the surface, reddening his face. Ever since the death of their parents, he’d begun to harbor a growing resentment toward Tom. Sweet natured and pleasing to the eye, his brother had all the attributes he lacked, leaving him with feelings of inadequacy. Adulthood had brought on a whole new set of insecurities, many of which stemmed from the infuriating knowledge Tom not only outranked him as an officer, he also earned a considerable amount more money, making him the primary breadwinner. It was a stain on his ego, a painful thorn in his side that niggled continuously at him and reminded him of his failures. In his eyes, life had given him a raw deal, and while he loved his brother, a part of him hated him too. Time was often touted as the great healer, but try as he might, Will couldn’t shake off his seething jealousy. Over the years, his resentment had festered and brewed, unleashing in violent outbursts as he attempted to lord control over Tom. But as he studied Booker’s unflinching bravado and confident stance, he understood the need to change tack. While backing down went against every fiber of his being, he saw no other option, and forcing his facial muscles into a smile, he spoke in a pleasant tone. “Why didn’t you go out with your friends, Tom-Tom? A night out would have done you good. You spend too much time on your own.”
If Jesus Christ himself had walked into the room, Tom’s face could not have shown more surprise. Caught off guard, he stared at his brother, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open, his slack-jawed expression perfectly mimicking that of a cartoon character. He could feel his brother’s gaze boring into him, silently, yet decisively instructing him to play along, to not show any signs of uncertainty or bewilderment, to say the right things so they could get rid of Booker and go back to their lives. In essence, Will was commanding him to lie.
With no choice but to react appropriately, Tom’s lips stretched over his teeth, the incongruous smile out of harmony with the panic shining from his eyes. His mind desperately sought a reasonable explanation, but unprepared, he came up blank. “I...um...I—”
Ignoring Tom, Booker rolled his eyes. “Oh, cut the crap, Will. He didn’t go because he wasn’t invited. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
The dark-haired officer’s statement hung in the air, thick with discord, the bluntness of the allegation challenging the elder Hanson to a duel of words. The smile on Will’s face slowly faded, his expression hardening under Booker’s accusatory glare. He had mistakenly assumed he could fool Tom’s partner in the same way he’d duped all his other coworkers, but it appeared he had grossly miscalculated the younger man’s gullibility. Booker wasn’t buying his carefully formulated deception, and he had no doubt it was all Tom’s fault. If his younger brother hadn’t balked under the strain, they’d be home free. But once again, Tom had let him down by failing to follow his instructions, giving Booker the upper hand and leaving the door open for him to pry further into their lives. It was a heavy blow, and for someone who prided himself on wielding an iron fist, it did not sit well with Will Hanson. It did not sit well at all.
With the charade over, Will saw no reason to disguise his antipathy. “Is that right, Book? And you know this how, exactly? You’ve worked with my brother for a week, and you’ve met me for what? Maybe three minutes total? So, c’mon, Mister Know-it-all, dazzle me with your insight into our lives. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve got to say.”
Dennis shot down Will’s steely gaze with a hostile look of his own. “It’s Booker, William, and I know this because Tom’s a freakin’ bundle of nerves, and being a betting man, I’d lay odds the reason behind his neurosis is you. You don’t want him to make friends because if he does, someone might tell him you’re a fucking bully who controls every aspect of his life. How’s that for insight, asshole?”
The two men spoke as if Tom wasn’t there, but the young officer felt the stab of every gibe as if it were directed at him personally. Distressed, his eyes continued to dart anxiously between his brother and his friend, the frosty atmosphere slowly sucking the air from his lungs. Booker’s observations were too close to the mark for him to ignore, and he knew he needed to do something to diffuse the festering situation. But whose side to choose? On the one hand, he had his brother. Will was his family, his life, and despite the sexual abuse, and frightening punishments, he loved him with all his heart. Then, on the flip side, there was Booker. Dennis had extended the hand of friendship without asking for anything in return, giving him a chance at a more normal existence. But while it was a convincing argument to vote for the latter, there was the bond of consanguinity to consider. Blood ran thicker than water, and as much as he wanted Booker in his life, when it came to picking sides, Tom knew in his heart he would always stand beside Will.
With his mind made up, the young officer swallowed his anxiety and taking a deep breath, he stepped between the two most important people in his life and addressed his friend in a soft trembling voice. “You’re wr-wrong, Dennis. None of this is W-Will’s fault. I’m the one with the p-problem, n-not him. Ever since our parents died, he’s th-the one who’s taken care of me. So, I think it w-would be b-best if you leave. We can t-talk again at the ch-chapel on Monday morning before s-school. Okay?”
Two sets of dark eyes widened in surprise, followed by antithetical reactions. Confusion furrowed Booker’s brow, his uncertainty causing him to shift uncomfortably, his gaze moving between the two brothers. He’d convinced himself Will was the cause of all Tom’s problems, and to be told differently, had him rethinking all he thought he knew about the young officer. If Hanson’s anxiety came from within, then he wasn’t sure he could trust him as a competent partner. While Tom's behavior at the swimming pool had surprised him, at the time, he’d dismissed his panic attack as nothing more than an irrational fear. After all, an aversion to large bodies of water was a common phobia and therefore, somewhat understandable. But now he wasn’t so sure. The young officer’s changing personality was becoming a legitimate concern. Maybe he really was crazy, and if so, he was a ticking time bomb. It was a worrying thought, and the more Booker thought about it, the more he started to wish Fuller had paired him with the easygoing Penhall rather than a neurotic screwball like Tom.
While Booker pondered the complicated workings of Tom’s mind, Will stood with his arms crossed, a satisfied smile curling the corners of his lips. He’d underestimated his brother’s ability to lie convincingly when under duress. Although the delivery was shaky, Tom’s words rang true, and it was refreshing to know the dark-haired officer hadn’t managed to come between them. His Tom-Tom was his and his alone, and he’d be damned if he’d lose him to an interfering piece of shit like Dennis Fucking Booker.
Ignoring Will’s triumphant smirk, Booker turned back to Tom, his expression contrite. “Sorry, I guess I misread the situation. Are we cool?”
Wary of making matters worse, Tom shot a quick glance in Will’s direction. Anticipation thickened the air, the heavy silence adding a sense of drama to the scene. But with his brother’s eyes boring a hole in the back of his skull, Tom knew he needed to speak up, and licking his lips, he addressed his friend. “Sure. But I think it would be best if you don’t come around here anymore.”
Although his voice was steady, there was a touch of sadness intertwined in the young officer's words. But Booker was too upset by Tom’s request to pick up on the hint of regret inflected in his tone. He’d offered the hand of friendship, only to have it slapped back in his face. Tom could rot alone in his apartment for all he cared, he was tired of trying, and he didn't need telling twice not to come around. Once was definitely enough, and pulling himself up to his full height, he strutted toward the door. “No problem, Hanson,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “See you Monday.”
“Dennis, wait!”
Booker turned, his eyes hardening into an annoyed stare. “What?”
Tom hurried across the room, and grabbing Dennis’ arm, he pulled him into the hallway. Once out of earshot, he looked questioningly into his partner’s eyes, his expression panicked. “W-We’re still friends, right?”
A look of weariness passed over Booker’s face, and he exhaled a weighty sigh. “What do you want from me, Hanson? Huh? I try to get close to you, you push me away, then you beg me to come back. It’s exhausting. I’m starting to think we’d be better off keeping our relationship professional. I’m not sure I can deal with all this bullshit.”
Pain seared Tom’s heart. “Is that what you want?”
“It is.”
Tom’s heart dipped, but he managed a weak smile. “I understand,” he murmured, and turning away, he walked back into his apartment and closed the door. An emotional lump formed in his throat, and leaning against the wooden paneling, he closed his eyes and waited for the heavy beat of his heart to settle back into its normal rhythm. With his sight impeded, his ears immediately tuned into the familiar sound of running water, and his eyes flew open, panic gripping his heart. But when he saw Will standing at the kitchen sink, his breath expelled in relief. The steady stream of water was nothing more sinister than his brother washing the dishes, and he slumped back against the door. A tension headache pulsed behind his eyes and screwing them closed again, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb to alleviate the pain. By standing with his brother, he’d saved himself from another punishment, but in doing so, he’d lost a friend. It was the story of his life. Whenever he experienced a taste of freedom, fate—meaning Will—intervened and snatched it from him in the cruelest of ways. He knew he should feel angry, but he didn’t. He accepted his destiny, and there was no point fighting something he was incapable of changing. He was doomed to spend the rest of his life in the company of his brother, and pretending otherwise, only caused him more heartache.
The rattle of cutlery brought Tom back to the present, and opening his eyes, he took several deep breaths. He needed to remain calm or risk triggering another of Will’s outbursts. If he showed the slightest sign he was upset about Booker leaving, he would suffer the consequences, and while he was confident he had done enough to keep his brother happy, there was always a nagging doubt that he could have done more.
“Need any help?” he called out, the cheerful timbre of his voice an octave too high to sound convincing.
Will turned his head, a smile forming on his lips. “Sure.”
Lulled into a false sense of security, Tom walked into the kitchen, his mind awash with thoughts of Booker. Preoccupied, he failed to see the shift in his brother’s mood, and before he had time to react, a hand shot out and grabbed the back of his neck. It took a moment for his brain to compute what was happening, but once he realized he was under attack, he started to struggle. Will tightened his grip, propelling Tom's head forward, the swift action leaving the young officer's nose hovering only inches above the dirty dishwater. Frozen in fear, Tom’s frightened voice stammered from between his lips. “W-Will! I d-did what you asked! Wh-Why are you—”
“Shut up!” Will growled. “You disobeyed me, Tom-Tom. You ran after that cock-sucking shit-stirrer, and now I have to punish you.”
The smell of grease assaulted Tom’s nostrils, and he instinctively tried to pull his face away from the contaminated water. But Will held him firm, his nails digging into the back of the frightened officer’s neck, the tips of his fingers bruising the tender flesh. “Don’t fight me, Tom-Tom. ‘Cause if you do, you’re only gonna make it worse.”
There was no misinterpreting the warning, and as his face submerged beneath the foul-smelling water, Tom knew any form of resistance was futile. And so, like the loyal, and dutiful brother he was, he closed his eyes and silently counted down the minutes until his punishment was over.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Cries of a Shadow