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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
- 14
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- 16
“We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.” Orson Welles

Booker arrived at the chapel early Monday morning, keen to get his debriefing with Tom over with as quickly as possible. He was professional enough to know he needed to put his disappointment to one side and concentrate on their assignment, but the sting of Tom’s rejection still lingered. He thought they’d made a connection, and he’d looked forward to building a solid friendship with the shy officer. But despite a promising start, he realized he now had no choice but to accept what Penhall had told him. Tom was weird, and his mercurial temperament made it impossible to break down the barriers that kept him at arm’s length. Whether Will was responsible for his brother’s character traits or not was still open for debate, but as far as Booker was concerned, he’d tried, failed, and it was time to move forward. He had no regrets, he’d enjoyed Tom’s company while it had lasted, but he wasn’t prepared to waste any more time on a man who wasn’t interested in social interaction.
With that thought in mind, the dark-haired officer shot a furtive glance in Tom’s direction. Sitting slumped behind his desk, his head bowed low, his face hidden behind a curtain of hair, Tom cut the same sad, lonely figure he had the first time Booker had laid eyes on him. It was a depressing sight, but Dennis wasn’t about to fall into the trap of feeling sorry for his partner. Tom brought a lot of his heartache on himself, and if he wasn’t prepared to try and fit in, then he only had himself to blame.
A melancholy cloud of regret dampened Booker’s mood even further, and turning away, he went in search of Penhall. He was in need of some humor, and the laid-back officer never failed to bring a smile to his lips. But before he’d made it halfway across the room, a loud voice echoed throughout the chapel. “BOOKER!”
The dark-haired officer stopped in his tracks, and turning his head, he addressed his captain. “Yes, Coach?”
“My office,” Fuller instructed, his brow puckered into a solemn frown.
Intrigued by the summons, Booker followed his superior into his room and closed the door.
“Take a seat, Dennis.”
Mildly surprised by the serious tone of his captain’s voice, the dark-haired officer flopped down onto a chair and casually twined his fingers together behind his head. “Wassup, Coach?”
Ignoring the informal greeting, Fuller perched on the edge of his desk. “How are things, Booker? Are you fitting in okay? I guess the job’s a lot different to what you were used to at I.A.D.”
Suspicion narrowed Booker’s eyes, and lowering his arms, he sat forward in his chair. “What’s that supposed to mean? Has someone said something about me?”
Fuller continued to study his young charge for several long moments before answering the question. “Hanson’s requested a change of partner.”
“WHAT?”
While Booker’s reaction was expected, the level of hurt shining from his eyes perplexed Fuller, and folding his arms across his chest, he studied the dark-haired officer with interest. “You seem upset.”
“DAMN RIGHT I’M UPSET!” Booker shouted. But when he saw his commander’s warning look, he slumped back against the back of his chair and moderated his voice. “Did he give a reason?”
“He said you weren’t the right fit for the assignment,” Fuller revealed. “I spoke to him at length, and he thinks he’ll get more information if he goes it alone.”
When the angry officer remained silent, Fuller pushed the point. “Is he right, Booker? Did something happen I should know about?”
“No, he’s not right!” Booker shot back, and jumping to his feet, he began to pace around the small office. “And yes, something happened, but I’m not the one who’s jeopardizing the assignment, he is! He almost gave the fucking game away!”
Fuller’s expression darkened. “That’s a serious allegation. You’d better have a damn good reason for—”
“He refused to jump in the pool to prove we weren’t wired,” Booker blurted out in a rush of words.
Surprised by the revelation, the muscles in Fuller’s jaw flexed. “Go on.”
Having received the go-ahead to continue, the disgruntled officer didn’t hold back. His hurt and anger bubbled forth as he revealed all of Tom’s foibles. He disclosed the young officer’s plan to bully the students of Westview High, and how he’d caught him pushing a young student to the ground, the aggressive action far exceeding what they’d agreed upon. On and on he talked, his hands gesticulating wildly in front of his face, each accusation punctuated with a volley of expletives. A full twenty minutes passed before his voice finally petered out, and he stood silently in the middle of the room, his chest heaving heavily, his dark eyes blazing. He’d ratted out his friend, but he didn’t care. Tom had attempted to throw him under the bus, and he’d counterattacked with the truth, however detrimental it might be to the young officer’s career. He was done being Mister Nice Guy. Hanson had made his bed, and as far as he was concerned, he could damn well lie in it for all eternity.
On the other side of the room, Fuller stood silently, his meticulous mind carefully processing the plethora of information spewed forth in Booker’s emotional tirade. While he knew Tom’s behavior bordered on dysfunctional, the young officer had never—to his knowledge—come close to blowing his cover. If Booker was telling the truth, he needed to think long and hard before deciding which man should continue investigating the Westview case. While Hanson had never given him cause to doubt his abilities as a cop, Booker had presented a compelling argument, and he began to wonder if his best undercover officer was starting to feel the strain of the job. It wasn’t unusual, many good cops cracked under pressure, and Tom had always strived to do his very best, often pushing himself to the point of exhaustion. And while he didn’t know Booker well enough to form an opinion on his professional conduct, his statement about Hanson’s behavior rang true. Therefore, he made the executive decision to allow the dark-haired officer to remain on assignment and pull Tom from the case. Whether he would live to regret his choice remained to be seen, but he was prepared to give Booker the benefit of the doubt, at least until he proved him wrong.
“Okay, Booker,” Fuller announced. “I’m going to give you a chance to show me what you’ve got. You can keep working the case with Ioki as your backup, and I’ll assign Hanson to desk duty for the rest of the week.”
With his reputation back intact, Booker’s shoulders relaxed. “Thanks, Cap’n, you won’t regret it.”
“I’d better not,” Fuller replied, and with a glance at the clock, he picked up a stack of manila folders. “I have a meeting with the commissioner. I expect a report at the end of the day.”
“Yes, Coach,” Booker murmured, his gaze following his superior out the door. Once alone, he took a moment to compose himself before walking out into the main hub. He immediately set his sights on Tom, and sauntering over to the young officer’s desk, he made his presence known in a loud, domineering voice. “Hey, Tommy. Care to tell me why you don’t want to partner with me anymore?”
Tom visibly stiffened. “Go away,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on his paperwork. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Affronted by the brush off, Booker could feel his muscles tensing and placing his palms on Tom’s desk, he leaned forward, his dark eyes flashing with anger. “What’s your problem, Hanson? How dare you tell Fuller I’m a bad cop. What the fuck did I ever do—”
“YOU’RE GONNA GET ME KILLED!”
The absurdity of the statement provoked an angry response. “I’m gonna get YOU killed?” Booker exclaimed with a derisive snort. “Who’s the one who almost blew our cover at the swimming pool, asshole? It sure as hell wasn’t me! In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one who saved your sorry ass from drowning! But guess what? You thought you could go behind my back and get me booted off the case? Well, think again, hotshot. Fuller’s decided you're the one who's gonna spend the next week on desk duty, not me. How does that feel, Tommy, huh? Are you gonna cry? Are you gonna go home and—”
“That's enough, Dennis.”
Judy’s soft voice had the desired effect, and Booker fell silent, a momentary pang of regret upsetting the rhythm of his heart. But he quickly pushed his misgivings aside. Tom had betrayed him in the cruelest of ways, and as far as he was concerned, his anger was justified.
Aware he was under the scrutiny of a room full of his peers, Tom continued to stare at his desk, his cheeks flaming pink, his shallow breaths hitching in his throat. He could feel a heavy weight bearing down on him, compressing his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. Panicked, his fingers curled into fists and closing his eyes, he started to count, the sequence of numbers tumbling from his trembling lips in rapid succession. But when the numeric incantation failed to calm him, he began to hit his head with the heels of his hands, the heavy thumps falling into rhythm with his words. To the left of him, someone laughed, the loud guffaw continuing to echo inside his head long after the sound had passed through the air and vanished into the ether. Mentally disoriented, he stopped counting, giving his mind the chance to shut down the phantom vibration, leaving nothing but the tinnitus of silence ringing in his ears...wordless...taunting...the high-pitched whine slowly robbing him of his sanity. Panic squeezed his heart, and jumping to his feet, he fled the room, the sound of Booker’s parting word chasing him down the stairs and out into the parking lot below. “FREEEAK!”
“BOOKER!” Judy scolded, the palm of her hand slapping the dark-haired officer's upper arm. “ENOUGH!”
Ashamed, Dennis lowered his eyes to the floor. “Sorry,” he muttered. “He’s just so fucking infuriating, you know?”
Judy’s expression softened. “Yeah, I do know. But verbally attacking him in front of a room full of people is a low blow, Booker. I expected better from you.”
“Sorry,” Booker repeated. A heavy silence followed his apology, but eventually, he lifted his head and spoke again. “Jude, can we talk?”
The request took Judy by surprise, and she faltered for a moment before answering. “Um...sure. What’s up?”
Taking the young officer by the arm, Booker led her into their superior’s office and closed the door.
“I don’t think we should be in here,” Judy advised, her gaze flitting nervously around the room. “What if Fuller comes back?”
A reassuring smile played over Booker’s lips. “He won’t...at least not for a while. He’s with the commissioner.”
“Oh,” Judy replied, her face visibly relaxing. “So, what’s this all about, Dennis? I’m assuming it’s got something to do with Tom. Am I right?”
Trailing his fingertips over the smooth surface of Fuller’s desk, Booker spoke without making eye contact. “Yeah, you’re right. I was just wondering what you could tell me about him.”
“Tell you?” Judy parroted, her brow knitting in puzzlement. “What exactly is it you want to know?”
Booker shrugged. “I dunno. Anything, I guess. I just want to know what goes on in his mind.”
“Are you feeling guilty?”
The question brought a blush to the dark-haired officer’s cheeks. He wasn’t proud of his behavior, but somehow, in some strange way, Tom brought out both the best and the very worst in him. Their friendship was a cosmic joke, an oxymoron, and he didn’t understand why he was drawn to someone he was so incompatible with. But drawn to him he was, and even though he was still too angry to try and make amends, his inquisitive mind wanted to figure out what made the young officer tick.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he exhaled a weighty sigh. “Yeah, I guess I am. But…”
His voice trailed off, the unfinished sentence leaving Judy guessing. “But what?” she pressed.
“But part of me thinks he deserved it,” Booker finished in a quiet voice.
A deep sadness shone from Judy’s eyes. “Then we’ve nothing left to talk about,” she murmured, and turning away, she left Booker to his reflections.
The metronomic tick of the wall clock lulled the frantic workings of Booker’s mind, calming his conscious thought until all his anger and confusion ebbed away. Emotionally depleted, he glanced up at the object of his peaceful transformation, and realizing he was running late for school, he squared his shoulders and walked out the door.
- 14
- 15
- 16
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Cries of a Shadow