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To Chase a Feather in the Wind	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1696 -:- 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
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Booker's mouth gaped open and he stared back at Tom in disbelief. "You fucked another man?"
Tom's face reddened. "Actually, he fuc—"
Jumping to his feet, Booker balled his hands into tight fists. “I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!” he yelled into Tom’s face. “I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS TO ME!”
“I know,” Tom muttered miserably, “I can't believe it either but it happened and all I can say is I'm sorry.”
“SORRY? YOU'RE SORRY?” Booker screamed hysterically and throwing his hands in the air, he began to pace back and forth in front of the couch. “Well hey, I guess that makes everything okay then doesn’t it! FUCK!”
Feeling the need to stand up for himself, Tom scowled and getting to his feet, he glared at his ex-lover. "And how is sarcasm helping?" he spat back. “I said I was sorry, what more do you want? And in case you've forgotten, you raped me and yet somehow, I found it in my heart to forgive you, so why the hell can't you forgive me now?”
Unable to believe what Tom had just said, Booker completely lost his temper. "You sonofabitch! If you forgave me then why the hell are you bringing it up? And what do I want? Are you fucking serious? We spent months together and the most we did is suck each other off. If I'd known getting you drunk would have got me some action I'd have plied you with alcohol weeks ago!”
With lightning speed, a fist smashed into his face, sending him staggering backwards. Slamming against the wall, he dislodged several pictures, sending them crashing to the floor. With a roar, he charged forward and throwing his full weight on top of Tom, they crashed through the coffee table, breaking it in half. Both men hit the floor with a thud and they immediately rained vicious punches on each other’s bodies but eventually, Dennis got the upper hand and straddling Tom’s legs, he pinned his arms above his head.
“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” Tom screamed angrily as he struggled to break free.
Booker’s eyes flashed manically and he grinned down at Tom through bloody teeth. “Why? Are you worried I'll rape you again?”
Tom immediately stopped fighting, but his eyes remained filled with hatred. “That's not what I meant and you know it, now get off me,” he commanded in a low, menacing voice.
Booker slowly staggered to his feet, his chest heaving heavily. “Don’t try anything,” he warned as he warily watched Tom clamber from the debris.
Tom wiped a shaky hand across his bloody lip. “Fuck you,” he spat and turning away, he walked unsteadily towards the door and yanked it open. “You need to leave.”
Striding across the room, Booker shoved past Tom but before he exited the apartment, he turned around and glared at the man who just months before, had stolen his heart. “I loved you,” he growled in a resentful tone, “and you destroyed everything because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants.”
Not willing to let Booker have the last word, Tom grabbed hold of his arm but he immediately let go when he saw the threatening look in his eyes. “Okay, I admit it, I fucked up,” he retorted, “but don’t lay this all on me. Our relationship was already in trouble because you weren’t being honest. You still had those urges and you pretended you were fine.”
“I THOUGHT I WAS!” Booker screamed back furiously, spittle flying from his lips from the forcefulness of his words. “I thought I could control it! You have no idea what it’s like to have constant thoughts inside your head… sick thoughts that taunt you every… single… day! But don’t pretend that you care about my mental health; you're just as twisted as I am! You couldn’t wait to get me into your bed, even after what I did to you and as soon as you had the chance you seduced—”
“WHAT?” Tom cried out incredulously. “I didn’t seduce you! You wanted it as much as I did and you practically threw yourself at me! And wanting to be with you doesn't make me twisted, it just proves I've forgiven you! The problem is, you haven't forgiven yourself!"
“Maybe I haven't and maybe I pushed all the doubts aside because I wanted you so badly,” Booker conceded moodily, “but I thought you knew what you were getting yourself into. I didn’t know the first time I relapsed you’d go looking for comfort by letting some guy shove his cock up your ass.”
Tom cringed at the crudity of the statement but deep down, he could not fault Booker’s reasoning. He had sought comfort from someone he had no attachment to and at the time, it had felt amazing. But in the cold light of day, a feeling of emptiness and a deep seated guilt that he had cheated so readily on the man he thought was his soul mate was all that was left, and he realized it had all been for nothing. He had destroyed his relationship for a few hours of pleasure and he only had himself to blame.
Lowering his gaze, he shifted uncomfortably. “You’re right,” he capitulated with a regretful sigh. “I let you down and I’m sorry.”
Booker swiped the back of his hand across his bloody nose. “Was it worth it?” he asked moodily.
Tom shook his head. “No, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”
Narrowing his eyes, Booker glared back distrustfully. “Are you still seeing him?”
Once again, Tom shook his head. “I don’t want to see him, he means nothing to me.”
Booker’s lower lip started to quiver. “Then why?” he whispered. “Why did you let him make love to you when you didn’t want to make love to me?”
A single tear trickled down Tom’s cheek. “Oh God Dennis, I did want to make love to you, I wanted it more than anything in the world, but I was scared.”
“Scared of what?” Booker pressed stubbornly. “Scared of me?”
“No,” Tom replied quietly. “I was scared of me. Scared that I’d be the one to make you relapse and it looks like I was right.”
Booker considered Tom’s statement for a long moment before replying, “You didn’t make me relapse. I wasn’t fully healed to begin with. It would have happened eventually, whether I was with you or not.”
“Maybe,” Tom murmured. “But I don’t think I helped.”
Unable to refute Tom’s statement, Booker remained silent. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen and scribbled down a phone number. After placing it on the bookcase by the door, he gave Tom a sad smile. “That’s my number. If you want to see me again, give me a call,” and without waiting for a reply, he walked out the open door.
**

Three days later
Screeching to a halt outside the Chapel, Penhall clambered out of his car and slammed the door closed. Turning around, he jumped when he saw Dennis standing a few feet away from him. “Jesus Booker, don’t sneak up on people like that!”
A hint of a smile graced Booker’s lips before vanishing as quickly as it had emerged. “Sorry,” he replied in a flat voice. “I wanted to talk to you before you went inside.”
Penhall narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “About what? ‘Cause if this has anything to do with you and Tom I’d rather not get involved.”
Booker’s smile returned but his eyes remained cold. “Why? Because you don’t want to talk about your precious Tommy being in a homosexual relationship or because you don’t want to talk to me?”
“Are you trying to piss me off?” Penhall retorted angrily. “Because if you are, you’re doing a fucking good job.”
Booker’s expression remained taunting for several seconds longer before his shoulders sagged. “Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well and I guess I’m a little uptight.”
It was on the tip of Penhall’s tongue to reply, “Only a little?” but he let the comment pass and instead he let out a sigh and asked, “What can I do for you Booker?”
A look of relief passed over Dennis’ face. It had not been easy for him to seek out Penhall for help but as he had not heard from Tom, the young officer was his only hope. “I need you to find someone for me.”
**
Tom stared at the piece of paper in his hand before lifting the phone’s receiver and slamming it back down again. He had spent twenty minutes repeating the same action and his nerves were jangling. More than anything, he wanted to contact Dennis but he feared that by doing so, he would once again make matters worse.
As he was about to try for the tenth time, the phone came to life, its earsplitting ring making him jump. Snatching the receiver from the cradle, he spoke in a breathless voice. “Hanson.”
A small sigh of disappointment escaped his lips when he heard Penhall’s voice. “Oh, hey Doug.”
“Hey yourself,” Penhall replied cheerfully. “You may not be pleased to hear from me but you will be when I tell you what I know.”
Tom was in no mood for games and he let out another sigh, this one louder and more exasperated than before. “What?”
Not about to let Tom’s ill temper get him down, Penhall remained upbeat. “You told me last night you’ve been stressing out about getting in touch with Booker since your fight. Well, I have the perfect excuse for you to contact him.”
Tom tightened his grip on the phone. “Go on.”
Penhall smiled. He knew he had piqued Tom’s interest and rather than toying with him, he decided to put him out of his misery. “Booker contacted me. He wants to find out where Maurice Keppler’s buried.”
Several seconds passed before Tom spoke. “Tell me what he said.”
**
A loud rap at his door pulled Booker from a light doze. “What?” he barked.
“Phone call,” the unidentified male voice replied.
Sitting up, Booker ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair and glancing at the clock, he saw it was late afternoon. Most nights he remained awake, preferring to keep a vigil in case any of the men decided to break into his room under the cover of darkness. He had taken to napping during the day or whenever he felt it was safe and although it was not the ideal situation, since changing his routine, he had not suffered any more attacks. It was a small victory and even though he was tired, he was slowly learning to relax in his new surroundings.
Climbing from the bed, he unlocked the door and wandered down the corridor to the recreation room. Several pairs of eyes followed him but he ignored the scrutiny and stopping beside the communal phone, he picked up the receiver. “Booker.”
“Hey Dennis,” Tom replied quietly. “I heard you needed some help and… well… I made some phone calls and I’ve got the information if you want it.”
Booker closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Did Penhall tell you?” he asked.
“Yeah he did,” Tom replied candidly, “and to be honest, I’m a little hurt you didn’t ask for my help first.”
Opening his eyes, Booker let out a heavy sigh. “I was going to but… Jesus Tom, you know what happened the last time I saw you and I was hardly going to ask for your help after we’d beaten each other to a bloody pulp.”
A long silence hung in the air before Tom answered. “Yeah I know, but I’m offering my help now. Can you meet me in an hour at the café on Main?”
“I’ll be there,” Booker replied in a soft voice and he hung up the phone.
**
Ninety minutes later, Booker sat in the alfresco area of Café Verde, anxiously chewing at the skin around his thumbnail. His eyes scanned the busy street and when he finally spotted Tom hurrying towards him, he relaxed back in his chair and let out a relieved sigh. Although he had not wanted to admit it to himself, he had been worried that Tom had reconsidered his offer and would not turn up. But when he saw the harried expression on his ex-lover’s face, he knew it was unforeseen circumstances and not a change of heart that had caused his delay.
“Sorry,” Tom apologized in a breathless voice and pulling out a chair, he winced slightly as he sat down. “They had half the street closed for road works.”
Booker noticed the grimace and he gave Tom a look of concern. “Are you okay?”
Tom’s lips twitched into a smile. “You gave me quite a thrashing, I think I’m entitled to nurse my wounds for a few days.”
“But you’re okay?” Booker pushed, the distress in his voice evident. “Because I didn’t mean—”
“If I remember correctly, I hit you first,” Tom interrupted, “so let’s just forget about it. Now, how ‘bout a drink.”
Booker managed a smile. “Another beer would be great. I ordered you one but I drank it.”
At Booker’s candid admission, Tom burst out laughing. “Well then I guess it’s my shout.” Signaling to the waiter, he ordered another two beers before addressing the issue at hand. “I guess you're anxious to know what I found out.”
Booker’s eyes darkened but his expression remained calm. “Yeah, I am.”
Tom waited until the waiter had placed their beers on the table before speaking again. “Before I tell you, can I ask why you feel the need to dig up the past?”
Even though Booker knew Tom well enough to know that he would be curious about his motives, he could not dispel the feeling of annoyance and he scowled defiantly. “Why? Are you going to hold the information to ransom until I tell you?”
Tom’s happy demeanor disappeared and his expression became sad. “Do you really think I’d do that?”
Seeing the hurt in Tom’s eyes, Booker immediately felt like an asshole. “No, of course not,” he sighed. “I guess I’m just a little sensitive.”
“I understand,” Tom replied graciously and picking up his beer, he swallowed down a large gulp. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Reaching out, Booker placed a hand over Tom’s and gazed deep into his eyes. “I want to. You’ve been by my side throughout this whole nightmare and if anyone has a right to know my intentions, you do.”
A lump formed in Tom’s throat and his eyes softened. “I appreciate that,” he murmured.
Several minutes passed in a semi-comfortable silence until Booker eventually pulled his hand away and crossing his arms protectively across his chest, he muttered, “I need to say goodbye to him. To Keppler.”
Although shocked by the admission, Tom managed to keep his expression impassive. “Why?”
Leaning back in his chair, Booker exhaled heavily. “Because there was a time when I loved him.” Before Tom could speak, he held up his hand. “I know now it wasn’t real love, our whole relationship was based on lies and manipulation but there’s still a part of me… a small part of me that also remembers his moments of kindness. I don’t expect you to understand, you didn’t live through it, but if I’m to move forward with my life, I need to make peace with what he did to me.” Taking a deep breath, he stared into Tom’s eyes, willing him to recognize what was in his heart. “I need to tell him I forgive him.”
Having listened to Booker’s emotional declaration, Tom’s eyes misted over and grasping hold of his friend’s hand, he gave it a squeeze. “Oh baby,” he whispered.
Tom had never used the affectionate term before and Booker’s face flushed red. Unaware that he was the cause of his friend’s embarrassment, Tom assumed it was because of his frank admission. “It’s okay, I’m not judging you. If you need to do it, then let’s do it.”
“Us?” Booker asked in surprise. "Does that mean we can put all this bullshit behind us and—”
Tom held up his hand. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea Dennis, we do this as friends, nothing more, okay?"
A sad smile played over Booker's lips. “Okay."
Glad that their friendship was restored, Tom divulged the information he had obtained. "Keppler’s buried in Tucson. It’s a week before Christmas, we'll never get a seat on a coach or a plane, so I thought we could drive out there together.”
Booker’s dark eyes filled with tears. "You always come through for me, even when I’m at my worst," he murmured. “How can I ever thank you?”
Tom stared deep into Booker’s eyes. “I don’t want you to thank me, I just want you to get your life back.”
Too choked with emotion to speak, Booker just nodded his head. For the first time in almost a year, he actually felt there was light at the end of the very long tunnel he had been living in, and with Tom once again by his side, he knew there was hope for the future.
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To Chase a Feather in the Wind