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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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My apologies for the delay in updating. Real life is a bitch, lol.
In peace,
OpenPage x

Booker waited for Tom to settle on the sofa before taking a seat on the worn easy chair. He was mindful of keeping his distance until he had a chance to articulate his thoughts. Tom was unpredictable, and he was already beginning to regret his uncensored outburst. It was a complicated situation because while his feelings for his roommate were real, he understood jumping into a full-blown relationship could prove catastrophic. His friend had lived an unconventional life, and that was putting it mildly. Will’s influence had, to no small degree, molded Tom into the man sitting before him, and Booker still wasn’t sure exactly who that man was. But what he did know for certain was the young officer needed extensive therapy to work through his issues before he’d even consider taking their relationship further. It was a non-negotiable deal. Tom either agreed to see a professional, or all bets were off. Simple.
Sitting forward in his seat, Tom carefully studied Booker’s face. When the dark-haired officer had cried out, “I do!”, he’d thought his heart would actually stop beating. Time had stood still, the blood whooshing in his ears making him lightheaded in an oh-so-delightful way. But he’d managed to keep his elation hidden. Life had finally dealt him a hand worth playing, and he was conscious of not screwing it up. He wanted Booker more than he’d wanted anything in his life, and that included his freedom. Fate had brought the dark-haired officer to Jump Street for a reason, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity for a real relationship slip past him without a fight. But he needed to tread carefully. The uncertainty on his friend’s face meant he still had some work to do to convince him they were right for each other. It was a challenge, but he was up for it. As long as he didn’t come on too strong, he had rare confidence in his ability to win Booker over. Failure was not an option. He was tired of living a life half lived. He wanted it all, the romance, the companionship, and the comforting knowledge he was no longer alone. But more than anything, he wanted to experience the joys of sex without his mind blanking out. Although sexually active from the age of twelve, he was, in many ways, still a virgin. He had no memory of ever having had an orgasm nor did he recollect the post-climactic calm that followed. His rape was the only explicit sexual encounter he remembered, and even then, the memory of his assault did not include his climax. Not that he cared. He didn’t want to remember, but with his freedom came curiosity. Sex was no longer a taboo subject, and he yearned for the day when he could experience intercourse without the fear of pain and humiliation ripping his soul apart.
From his position on the easy chair, Booker’s eyes refused to meet Tom’s curious stare. His thoughts were an explosive minefield of nervous excitement coupled with limb-trembling trepidation. He had no idea how Tom would react to his terms, but he hoped it wouldn’t mark the end of their friendship. They were a team, and as much as it surprised him, life without the shy officer seemed almost incomprehensible. Side by side, they’d endured so much, and to walk away seemed like a needlessly self-destructive over-reaction to a solvable problem. And he hoped it wouldn't come to that, but only time would tell. Tom was a bit of an enigma. On the outside, he lacked confidence, but when pushed, he did possess the spark of tenacity that saw him digging in his heels. Stubbornness was obviously a family trait, and not necessarily a bad one. And Booker wanted Tom to stand up for himself. What he didn’t want, was to lose a friend because he’d foolishly admitted his feelings too early in their fledgling relationship. But it was too late for regrets. Whether he liked it or not, there was nothing he could do but let the chips fall where they may. Their future—or lack thereof—was in Tom’s hands, and all he could do was wait and hope for the best.
Unable to withstand the tension any longer, Tom’s lips stretched into an anxious smile. “So, do you want to go first or shall I?”
It was the crucial question that had the potential to change everything. Booker knew if he didn’t choose his words carefully, he risked offending his friend. But he also wanted the chance to speak first, to put his point across before Tom’s soulful brown eyes won him over. Indecision puckered his brow. But in the end, his head won over his heart. He needed to stand his ground and fight for what he believed in. Without professional help, Tom was a ticking time bomb, and one he wasn’t equipped to diffuse.
“Dennis?”
Shifting in his seat, Booker dug deep and found the inner fortitude to meet Tom’s gaze. He immediately found himself falling under the young officer’s spell, and in a moment of panic, he blurted out his thoughts in a rush of words. “I think you should speak to a therapist before we take this any further.”
The last remnants of Tom’s smile faded from his lips. He stared at Booker, the expectant look in his dark eyes slowly transforming into one of disbelief. “You think I’m crazy?”
“What!” Booker exclaimed. “No! Shit, Tom, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
The coldness in Tom’s voice sent a tingle of apprehension down Booker’s spine and passing a nervous hand over his mouth, he struggled to express his thoughts. “What I meant is...I like you, Tommy, I really do. But...well, I really think you need help, professional help, you know, so you can put the past behind you and move on with your life.”
“With you?”
Leaning forward in his chair, Booker rested his forearms on his thighs. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before lacing his fingers together, his hands clenching into a tight ball. “This isn’t just about us,” he replied slowly. “Fuller won’t let you return to work until—”
“I’m not coming back to work,” Tom interrupted, his steely gaze faltering ever so slightly. “I’m resigning.”
The news was unexpected. Booker’s body jerked forward, his hands grasping hold of the arms of the chair. “What? You can’t! Tom, listen to me. You’re an exceptional cop. You can’t let what Will did to you ruin your career.”
Tom’s expression instantly turned moody. “I don’t want to talk about it. I want to talk about us. You said you felt the same way I do, so why are you suddenly making this about me talking to a therapist?”
Flopping back in his chair, Booker exhaled a weighty sigh. “Because I don’t think it’ll work unless you do.”
Ten seconds passed...twenty...but just when Booker thought he’d lost the fight, Tom’s soft voice cut through the silence. “Okay.”
The single word agreement raised Booker’s suspicion. In his mind, he’d won the battle far too easily, and he stared at his friend, his expression somber, his eyes distrustful. “I’m serious, Tom. If you don’t go to your appointments, I—”
“JESUS CHRIST! I SAID, OKAY!”
In stark contrast to his previous statement, Tom’s voice crashed through the tiny apartment, the powerful vocal resonance jerking Booker’s head back in surprise. “Whoa! Okay, there’s no need to yell.”
Embarrassed by his uncharacteristic outburst, Tom fidgeted under the heat of Booker’s gaze, his eyes lowering to the floor. “Sorry.”
Suppressing another sigh, Booker studied his friend’s bowed head. His reasons for vocalizing his feelings seemed clouded even in his own mind, and he had another heart-skipping moment of misgiving. Maybe he should have let sleeping dogs lie after all. Tom’s infatuation with him went far deeper than just physical attraction. It was bordering on obsession, and his deep-seated fixation raised alarm bells. But Booker knew he only had himself to blame. By opening Pandora’s box, there was no doubt he’d complicated their relationship. He’d known his friend was teetering on the brink of an emotional precipice, but in a moment of selfish need, he’d confessed his love anyway. His revelation was stupid and more than a little irresponsible, and the young officer’s sudden fit of temper only confirmed his fears. Tom was emotionally fragile, and any false move could send him flying toward a full-blown mental breakdown. And if he did, Booker knew he would never forgive himself. However, despite his reservations, he continued to hold onto the faint hope one day, he would know the joy of making sweet passionate love to Tom. But he needed to be patient. His friend still had a lot of healing to do, and until he was free from his ghosts, Booker knew he needed to show restraint.
Rising from his chair, the dark-haired officer joined his friend on the sofa. Neither man spoke, the only sound, the slow nasal inhale and exhale of their measured breathing. Tom’s head remained bowed, his shoulders slumped forward in defeat. Fate had, once again, dealt him a vicious blow, however, this time, he only had himself to blame. He’d come across too pushy, too desperate, and he didn’t blame Booker for having second thoughts. But while it was a disappointing end to one of the best nights of his life, Tom wasn’t about to give up, and nervously licking his lips, he raised his head and offered his friend a shaky smile. “You’re right. I need to lay the past to rest before I think about the future. Jumping into a relationship with you right now would be stupid.”
Relief shone from Booker’s dark eyes and resting a hand on Tom’s thigh, he gave his leg a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, it would. But that doesn’t mean we can’t continue to get to know each other better.”
The unexpected contact sent Tom’s heart into an arrhythmic flutter. “S-So, you still want to live with me?”
Unaware he was sending his friend mixed signals, a boyish grin crinkled the corners of Booker’s eyes. “Idiot. Of course I do. I can’t wait to find another apartment. It’ll be like a new start...for both of us.”
“Yeah,” Tom smiled. “A new start.”
Rising to his feet, Booker stifled a yawn. “Great. So, we’ll talk about it in the morning, maybe check out some apartments?”
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
“Okay, night.”
“Night.”
Booker turned away, but before he’d taken more than a couple of steps, he turned back, his face crinkling into a smile. “Happy birthday, Tom.”
“Thanks,” Tom murmured, his gaze secretly following the dark-haired officer as he crossed the room and disappeared into the bedroom, the door closing behind him. Their talk hadn’t quite gone as planned, but if he played his cards right, he might just win the hand, bringing him one step closer to Booker’s arms.
**
Sleep did not come easily for Booker, but when he finally drifted off under the light of the waning gibbous moon, he rested peacefully. He had confidence Tom would seek the help of a psychologist, and through extensive therapy, he would finally put his dysfunctional thoughts into some sort of perspective. And when everything finally slotted into place, the young officer might actually come to realize Will was never his protector, he always was, and in death remained, a monster.
**
Stretching out on the couch, Tom laced his fingers behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. In his heart, he knew Booker was right, he did need extensive therapy to work through his issues. The problem was, he wasn’t sure anyone, including a trained professional, would understand the nature of his true feelings. His unwavering loyalty to Will was—even in his own mind—fucked up. Not even Booker appreciated the full extent of his love for his brother, and he was careful not to allude to it too often. Because whenever he did, he saw darkness in his friend’s eyes, a flicker of disgust the dark-haired officer struggled to hide. And kudos to him for at least trying to disguise his antipathy. Most wouldn’t, and who could blame them? The past twelve years with his brother hadn’t just been abnormal, it had been an outright abomination. But he couldn’t help the way he felt. Throughout their life together, Will had taken on various guises. From his fraternal role of older brother, he’d become a guardian, a protector, and finally, an abuser. It was a complicated devolution of sorts, and yet, as much as Tom hated Will for the man he’d eventually become, the love in his heart still remembered the brother he had once adored. And that was why he could never wholly blame Will for his abuse because, in his mind, he knew if he’d wanted to, he probably could have stopped it.
Blocking out the unwanted thoughts, Tom rolled over and closed his eyes. He had no idea what a therapist would make of his unhealthy home life. However, he hoped rather than judge, he or she would help him to better understand why he’d allowed his brother to violate him for twelve long years. It was a long shot, but a professional’s insight might just unlock the final obstacle standing between him and happiness.
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Cries of a Shadow