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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
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Two weeks later
The first thing Booker noticed when he entered his apartment was the absence of Tom. Closing the door with his foot, he walked over to the kitchen and deposited two bags of groceries onto the counter. Assuming his friend was in the bathroom, he grabbed a beer and went through the tedious task of unpacking the perishables and putting them in the refrigerator before they could spoil. He left the canned items in the bags, his longing to relax more desirable than his need for a tidy kitchen. The arson case was proving more problematic than either he or Penhall had first envisaged, and he found himself growing increasingly more despondent as the days dragged on. For the first time since joining the Jump Street program, he was beginning to have serious doubts about his career choice. While he loved the adrenaline rush, spending days, and sometimes weeks integrating himself into the social cliques of teenage life was becoming less appealing by the minute. He wanted to catch the real bad guys, and for a brief moment, he found himself lamenting the missed opportunity of bringing down the kingpin of the Westview case. Not that he blamed Tom, he’d just hoped to see the assignment through to the end. But he was determined not to dwell on the past. In the words of Lady Macbeth, what's done cannot be undone, and there was no point wishing otherwise. Life moved on, and when it did, past regrets faded into the background. All he could do was hold onto the hope someday, somehow, the elusive drug dealer received the punishment he deserved, and his impressionable teenage recruits found a more productive path in life. And while the dark-haired officer realized he was, in some ways, deluding himself by always believing in a happily ever after ending, if he didn’t trust in the greater good, then all that he fought for was, in the big scheme of things, meaningless.
Picking up the newspaper Tom had left on the kitchen counter, Booker glanced at the rental ads his friend had circled. Several apartments seemed promising, and placing the paper back on the bench, he grabbed another beer and made his way to the couch. But as he passed by the bathroom, something triggered in his brain and stopping midstep, he turned and stared at the partially open door. If Tom were in there, he figured he’d ensure his privacy by closing the door. Therefore, if he wasn’t in the bathroom, that meant he’d finally left the apartment on his own. It was a significant breakthrough, and Booker’s heart swelled with pride. His friend was showing signs of resilience, and he hoped it was the first step toward him speaking to a therapist.
The click of a key turning the deadlock had the dark-haired officer spinning around, and when Tom walked into the apartment, he greeted him with a broad smile. “Hey. I wondered where you’d disappeared to. Did you go for a walk?”
Closing the door, Tom shrugged out of his jacket, and after pulling a small bag out of the pocket, he threw it on a nearby chair. “Yeah.”
The monosyllabic reply dampened Booker’s jubilant mood, and putting down his beer, he approached his friend. “What’s up? You seem a little...upset.”
Tom’s lips twitched at the edges, but the faint smile failed to reach his eyes. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s obviously something.”
Tightening his grip on the brown paper bag, Tom lowered his eyes to the floor. “I just needed to get out, that’s all.”
Curiosity had Booker probing further. “What have you got there?” he asked, his eyes motioning to the bag. “Did you buy something?”
Unable to think of a plausible lie, Tom exhaled a sigh. He'd hoped he could let the day pass quietly by without need of an explanation. But he'd underestimated Booker’s knack of reading his moods, and turning the paper bag over in his hands, he revealed his secret. “It’s a Matchbox car. When I was a kid, my father bought me one every year for my birthday. After he died, Will kept the tradition going. But he’s gone now, so...”
Tom bit down on his lower lip, his unfinished sentence creating a gaping hole of silence between the two men. Booker stared blankly at his friend, his weary mind taking several seconds to figure out the significance of the shopping trip. But when comprehension finally dawned, his eyes widened in surprise, and even though he was certain he already knew the answer, he asked the obvious question. “Jesus, Tom. Did you buy yourself a Matchbox car because today’s your birthday?”
Embarrassed, Tom scuffed the worn linoleum with the toe of his boot. “Well, yeah. I thought that’s what Will would’ve wanted. Pretty stupid, huh?”
Feeling like the worst friend on the planet, Booker rushed forward and pulled the young officer into a tight hug. “Fuck, man, why didn’t you tell me? I would have bought you something. Happy twenty-fourth birthday! Shit! I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!”
The love transmitted through the enthusiastic embrace fanned a warm flush over Tom’s skin, and closing his eyes, the young officer breathed in the masculine scent of leather and cigarettes. He’d thought keeping quiet about his birthday would help him get through the loneliness of the day without any family. He’d spent twelve years cloistered behind the iron curtain of Will’s rules, conditioned into believing he only needed his brother for company. But he was wrong. Slowly, but surely, he was starting to understand what it meant to have a friend, and his awakening opened up a whole world of exciting possibilities. He was finally free to explore the forbidden intimacy of real mateship, and he wished he’d had the foresight to tell Booker about his special day so they could have planned something together. The warmth radiating through his friend’s hug almost made up for the lost opportunity...almost, but not quite. But Tom wasn’t about to let it spoil the moment. By revealing his secret, he’d lowered yet another metaphorical barrier, and he had a feeling the dark-haired officer would find a way to make his next birthday, the best damn birthday he could ever imagine. All he had to do was wait patiently for another year, and he’d once again know the joy of a proper celebration.
The feel of Tom’s lithe body pressing against him set off alarm bells in Booker’s head, and quickly releasing his hold, he hid his confusion by flashing his friend a smile. “Gimme time to get cleaned up, then we’ll hit the town. It’s time to celebrate.”
A flash of excitement brightened Tom’s eyes, but before he allowed his enthusiasm to take hold, he sought clarification. “Just the two of us, right?”
Booker laughed. “Yes, Tom, just the two of us. It’ll be a boys’ night out.”
Tom's mood instantly lifted, and a shy smile tilted his lips. “Okay. Great. Thanks, Dennis.”
“What are friends for?” the dark-haired officer called over his shoulder and walking into the bathroom, he closed the door.
Moments later, the sound of the shower reached Tom’s ears, and his smile widened. He was about to go on, what was in his mind, his first real date with Booker. And although his friend might not view their outing in the same fanciful light, he figured it was his birthday, and that meant, he was allowed the luxury to dream.
**
Shoving back his chair, Booker stretched out his legs and popping the button of his jeans, he rubbed a hand over his bloated stomach. “I think I’m officially stuffed.”
Tom’s eyes danced with amusement. “That was one hell of a steak.”
The memory of the 500-gram Porterhouse brought a groan to Booker’s lips, and pushing his plate to the middle of the table, he suppressed a belch. “Don’t remind me.”
Worried his choice of the local bar and grill might have been the wrong one, Tom raised a questioning eyebrow. “But it was good?”
“Well, I’ll probably never eat again,” Booker replied with a chuckle. “But yeah, it was good. We should make this a regular Friday night thing. You know, start the weekend off with a bang.”
An excited “really?” almost spilled from between Tom’s lips, but he managed to catch himself just in time. Instead, he played it cool by offering his friend a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Sure, sounds good.”
Booker smothered a smile with his hand. He could almost feel the waves of excitement undulating off the young officer, and although tempting, he remained silent and didn’t poke fun. His friend was still overly sensitive to ridicule, even when it was just a bit of harmless banter, and so, he kept his thoughts to himself. And while it wasn’t always easy talking to Tom, he’d enjoyed their night out. They’d discussed many topics, and he hoped in time, the awkward pauses peppering their discussions would one day, evolve into the more comfortable silences that were a natural part of any conversation between close friends.
Not wanting the night to end, Tom’s eyes motioned toward the dark-haired officer’s near-empty glass. “Another?”
A post-meal sleepiness washed over Booker, and it took all his willpower to stifle the yawn swelling inside him. He longed to stretch out on his bed and digest his huge meal free from the tight band of denim constricting his stomach. But the hopeful look on Tom’s face soon had him reevaluating his own selfish needs, and digging deep, he channeled his inner good-time Charlie. It was his friend’s birthday, and the least he could do was make it a memorable night.
With a renewed energy, Booker picked up his drink and drained the remaining dregs of beer. Placing the empty glass on the table, he grinned his rakish grin. “Sure. But let’s make it a whiskey. That way, I can make a proper birthday toast.”
Smiling, Tom stood up, but Booker waved him back down. “Tonight’s on me,” he reminded the young officer, and rising to his feet, he buttoned his jeans with difficulty and zigzagged his way through the maze of tables to the crowded bar. As he waited for their drinks, he could feel his friend watching him, the heated gaze boring through his flesh. He fidgeted uncomfortably, the unwanted scrutiny making him nervous. He had no idea what had changed, but he couldn’t deny the subtle shift in their relationship over the past few weeks. Something was different, and although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, a tiny voice in his head told him to tread carefully or risk disturbing the status quo.
**
At a little after midnight, the two men staggered into the apartment. Pleasantly drunk, Booker stumbled across the room and flopped down on the couch. He watched with interest as Tom shrugged out of his jacket and joined him on the worn sofa. There was a noticeable change in his friend’s demeanor, the contented glint in his dark eyes bringing a lazy smile to the officer’s lips. “You look happy.”
Tom exhaled a contented sigh. “I am, thanks to you. That was the best birthday ever.”
To Booker, it was a sad indictment of his friend’s tortured life that a simple meal and drinks qualified as the best birthday ever, and a flicker of sadness passed over his face. But at that moment, an idea popped into his mind, and struggling to his feet, he disappeared into his bedroom. He reappeared several minutes later, a battered jeweler’s box in his hand, and stopping in front of Tom, he held it out. “Here. Happy birthday. It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”
Rising to his feet, Tom stared at the proffered gift. “You bought me something? How? You didn’t even know it was my birthday.”
Booker passed a nervous hand over his mouth. He was starting to have second thoughts, and he wasn’t sure giving Tom a previously owned gift was the right decision. Maybe something he valued wasn’t to his friend’s liking, thereby cheapening the experience for the young officer. But it was too late for him to change his mind. His impetuous heart had taken charge, and he had no choice but to follow through, no matter what the consequences.
Clearing his throat, the dark-haired officer placed the box in Tom’s hand. “I’m warning you, it’s not much, and it's not new. But it works, and hopefully, you can make use of it.”
Intrigued, Tom flipped open the hinged lid. Inside the velvet lining lay an antique fob watch, and picking it up with a trembling hand, he turned it over in his fingers. Mesmerized by its exquisite artisanship, the young officer continued to stare at the unique timepiece. “Dennis, it’s beautiful,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing over the worn casing. But it didn’t take long for him to come to his senses and looking up at his friend, he offered him back the watch. “But I can’t accept it. It’s obviously a family heirloom. It wouldn’t be right.”
In a childish move, Booker hid his hands behind his back. “Nuh-uh, I gave it to you, and I have a feeling you’ll get more use out of it than I ever will. So, happy birthday.”
Without warning, Tom launched himself at Booker and hugged him tightly. Startled, the dark-haired officer froze for a second before wrapping his arms around his friend and relaxing into the warm embrace. The alcohol in his system had lowered his inhibitions, and he took delight from the knowledge he’d made the young officer happy. Birthdays were a cause for celebration, and if he’d managed to ignite a flicker of light in his friend’s tortured eyes for even one moment, then it was mission accomplished. But when Tom showed no signs of releasing his hold, Booker started to feel uncomfortable and lowering his arms, he took a step back and smiled at his friend. “I’m glad you—”
Soft lips pressed against the dark-haired officer’s mouth, the unexpected kiss cutting off his words. Nothing could have prepared him for the intimacy of the gesture, and trapped somewhere between shock and elation, his mind silently screamed, “Tom’s kissing me! Tom’s KISSING me!” as their mouths melded together. There was barely any pressure, just the light, gentle movement of his friend’s lips massaging his own in a sweet, yet teasingly evocative motion. For a man of Tom’s years, the loving caress expressed a rare touch of innocence, which was strange considering all the young officer had endured. Booker’s eyes remained open, his mind a whirl of confusion, but it didn’t take long for the bubble to burst, and in a moment of clarity, he jerked his head backward, breaking the kiss before it had a chance to escalate. But as he stared at Tom, a shiver of longing surged through his veins, heating his blood in all the right places. His friend had kissed him, and he’d got off on it, and whatever happened, their relationship would never be the same again.
“Was I no good?”
The softly spoken question broke the paralyzing spell, and Booker exhaled a shaky breath. At that moment, he considered gathering his friend in his arms and taking him on a journey of sexual discovery. Tom’s face danced before him, his questioning eyes begging for understanding, and for a split second, the dark-haired officer’s heart seemed to simultaneously stop and begin beating for the very first time. His shallow breaths became more labored with the swell of his growing arousal, and in a moment of panic, he forcefully disengaged himself from his friend’s hold and took a step back. “Jesus, Tom,” he whispered, his fingers trailing a pattern over his tingling lips. “What the hell were you thinking?”
A petulant pout formed on Tom’s lower lip, giving him a childlike quality. “I wanted you to be my first.”
It was a simple yet honest statement riddled with complications, leaving the dark-haired officer struggling to find the right words. “Tom...I-I’m flattered...I really am...but—”
“It’s okay,” Tom murmured, the light dimming in his dark eyes. “I know you don’t feel the same way. I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”
“You didn’t! It’s just—”
“Thanks for the gift,” Tom whispered, and turning away, he headed toward the door, leaving a dumbfounded Booker to wonder whether the term gift referred to the watch or the kiss.
But before his friend could disappear into the night, the dark-haired officer found his voice. “Tom, wait!”
Tom stopped, one hand on the doorknob, ready to make his escape. “What?”
“I think we should talk.”
The muscles in Tom’s shoulders visibly tensed, and turning around, he stared at Booker. “There’s nothing to talk about. You don’t feel the same way I do, so, I think it’s best if I—”
“I do!”
They were not the words Tom expected to hear, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Y-You do?”
Booker’s teeth nervously worried his lower lip. Even though Tom’s dysfunctional private life had dampened his initial desires, he did feel something, and he couldn’t ignore the undeniable attraction sparking between them. It was terrifying and exciting all at the same moment, and he found himself daring to wonder if they really could make a sexual relationship work. It wouldn’t be easy, his friend was severely emotionally damaged, but for some reason, that didn’t deter Booker. Although he’d only known the young officer for a few short months, he couldn’t deny the strange connection that bound them together. He hadn’t gone looking for it, but it was there, as plain as the nose on his face. And while he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what that meant, he knew he’d be a fool not to explore all the possibilities. He was tired of the one-night stands and as bizarre as it seemed, he was starting to think Tom might actually be the person who could mend his broken heart. It was a long shot, but he was willing to take a chance on love, and passing a shaky hand through his hair, he motioned toward the couch. “I really think we need to talk.”
A flicker of excitement flashed in Tom’s eyes, but he quickly hid his elation by lowering his head. His bold move had paid off, and he hoped by the time they'd finished talking, he could officially call the man he adored, his boyfriend.
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Cries of a Shadow