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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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Tom stood at the window and watched the last golden traces of twilight fade into darkness. He remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the city’s disappearing horizon until the full moon had taken up her sentry position in the night sky. Normally, he would have taken the time to appreciate the wonders of the universe, but his mind was on Booker, and his thoughts kept wandering. His lover was over an hour late, which, on the surface, was no cause for alarm. Cops rarely knocked off on time, it was all part of the job. But there was an uneasy feeling in Tom’s gut, an unnerving sixth sense telling him something was wrong. And while he knew he could pick up the phone and call the chapel, his newfound life experiences had him holding back. He was already a laughing stock, the last thing he wanted was to cement his standing as a paranoid, ineffectual man by behaving like a hysterical child who was emotionally dependent on others. If his association with Booker had taught him anything, it was that he wasn’t a lone soldier in the unpredictable game of human survival. Life was a crazy ride, and nothing was guaranteed, including happiness. He wasn’t the only one to have suffered in the fast-paced merry-go-round of human existence, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. However, despite not always having control over the direction in which he traveled, he was beginning to realize he did have control over the speed. He could put his foot down and slow the spinning to a more manageable gait, and after speaking to his therapist about his blackouts, that was precisely what he intended to do. He might not always know how to live in a world that was, for want of a better word, foreign to him, but he could stroll through it, gaining knowledge along the way. It was a valuable lesson, and it wasn’t too late. With Booker as his teacher, he could learn to assimilate, and then maybe, just maybe, the next twelve years of his life would bury the memories of the last twelve forever. All he had to do was learn how to manage his fear and anxiety, and hopefully, peace would reign within his soul once again.
With a weary sigh, the young officer closed the blinds and flopped down on the couch. Despite his best efforts, the topsy-turvy feeling in his stomach intensified, and picking up the remote, he flicked on the television and attempted to distract himself. Twenty minutes into the local news broadcast, a loud knock echoed throughout the apartment, and jumping to his feet, he ran to the door. Assuming Booker had forgotten his keys, he yanked it open with a laugh. “Geez, Dennis, I can’t believe—D-Doug! What are you doing here?”
Penhall stood in the corridor, the light emanating from the wall lamps behind him casting shadows over his ashen face. The seriousness of the officer’s expression sent a tremor of panic through Tom’s body, and licking his lips, he struggled to maintain an acceptable level of calm. “Um, wh-what’s going on?”
Without pulling any punches, Penhall delivered the shocking news. “You need to come to the hospital. Booker’s been shot.”
Tom's heart slammed into his throat. He stood paralyzed for a moment before finally finding his voice. “I-Is he okay?”
Unable to meet the young officer’s agitated gaze, Penhall shuffled uncomfortably. “I dunno, man. All I know is he was rushed into surgery.”
The ominous statement rattled around inside Tom’s head, the words taking on a life of their own. Suddenly, the room became too small, the walls closing in on him, suffocating him in swirling tendrils of inky darkness. Stumbling backward, he clutched at the door as the room started to spin and the floor gave way beneath his feet.
“Whoa, Hanson, are you okay?”
A steadying arm wrapped around Tom’s waist, the security of Penhall’s hold preventing him from crashing to the ground. Weak-kneed, he fought to stay upright, his mind in a whirl. Booker was hurt. Booker. Was. HURT!
Pulling away from Penhall’s hold, the panicked officer stumbled forward and grabbed his car keys out of the bowl by the door. “I h-have to g-go to him.”
Compassion shone from Penhall’s dark eyes and resting a companionable hand on Tom’s shoulder, he gently took the keys out of his trembling hand and placed them back in the bowl. “Let me drive you. The others are already at St. Mary’s.”
It didn't occur to Tom that no one, other than Booker and Fuller, had bothered to rush to his bedside after he was taken into hospital. His focus was on his injured friend and recovering control of his emotions, he managed a faint smile. “Th-thanks, Doug.”
“No problem,” Penhall muttered, and keeping a careful eye on Tom, he escorted the young officer from the apartment building and toward the frightening unknown.
**
An agonizing three hours passed before the Jump Street officers were allowed into the ICU. Rushing into the room, Tom took Booker’s limp hand in both of his, and leaning over, he pressed his lips against his lover’s forehead. “Wake up,” he whispered. “P-Please wake up.”
Turning to Harry, Penhall raised a questioning eyebrow, but a warning look from Judy had him lowering his head in shame. It wasn’t any of his business if Tom and Dennis had an intimate relationship. What mattered was one of their own was lying unconscious in a hospital bed, his life hanging in the balance, while a dangerous criminal remained on the loose. Therefore, they needed to focus all their attention on finding out the identity of the perpetrator and hunting him down before he hurt someone else. And for a fleeting moment, Penhall hoped he’d have a chance to mete out his own form of justice. It would almost be worth losing his badge over...almost, but not quite. He believed in the system, and as much as he wanted to spend five minutes alone with the would-be cop killer, he knew he needed to exercise patience and allow due process to run its course.
When Fuller entered the room, his young charges turned to him expectantly. Gently resting Booker’s hand back by his side, Tom straightened up and approached his captain. “Wh-what did the surgeon say? Is Dennis going to be okay?”
Not one to beat around the bush, Fuller delivered the news in his usual direct manner. “They’ve removed the bullet, repaired the damage, and given him a blood transfusion. The rest is up to Booker. But as there was no vascular injury, he has a very good chance of survival.”
Five sets of eyes turned and looked at the wounded officer. The prognosis, although serious, was better than they’d expected. But their relief was short lived. An alarm suddenly sounded, the high-pitched beep shattering the silence. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.
A sharp pang struck deep in Tom's chest. He stared at his lover, his mouth dry, his throat constricted. Two nurses hurried into the room and immediately checked the dark-haired officer’s breathing tube. Confused, Tom turned to Judy, his terrified eyes searching her face for answers. But the only support she could offer was physical comfort and wrapping an arm around the frightened officer’s waist, she drew him close. His body trembled beneath her touch, and squeezing him tight, she bit down on her lower lip and silently prayed they weren’t about to watch their friend die.
Blissfully unaware of the panicked expressions on his worried co-workers’ faces, Dennis’ spirit suddenly detached and drifted from his body. Once free, he could see his physical form lying on a gurney, a white hospital sheet covering him from the waist down. An endotracheal tube protruded from the corner of his mouth, the annoying whoosh of the ventilator drowning out the muted voices of the nurses gathered by his bedside. However, the vision, although confronting, evoked no fear. Floating unrestrained on the astral plane, he was free from such banal emotions. All conscious thought was governed by intuition alone, and he’d never felt so safe and loved.
Above him, a supernal realm of light hovered, the celestial glow catching his attention. Drawn toward the ethereal calmness emanating from the shimmering orb, he floated upward until he was encompassed within its luminance. In the distance, a shadowy figure shrouded in a bright white aura appeared. The human-shaped silhouette beckoned him forward and unable to resist the calling, Dennis entered the radiant tunnel. As he gravitated toward the familiar figure, a conscious awareness filled him with a love so pure, so spiritual, his soul burned a brilliant shade of red. “Jacob,” he whispered, both hands reaching out toward his lover. “Oh, baby, I’ve missed you sooo much.”
Jacob smiled a slow, wistful smile. “I’ve missed you too, Denny, but you can’t stay. It’s not your time.”
“My time? I don’t know what you mean.”
“You don’t belong here, baby, at least, not yet. You have so much life left to live and Tom’s waiting for you. You’re destined to be together.”
“But...but…why can’t you come with me? Then, we can all be together.”
“I can’t, baby, it’s just not possible. But one day, I promise, we’ll meet again.”
“When?”
“Not for a very long time. Now, go. Tom loves you, and he’s going to make you very happy.”
“But—”
“Goodbye, sweetheart. I love you. Don’t forget me.”
“No! Wait! Jacob, come back! I need to know you’re okay! Come back! Come back!”
Raising a parting hand, Jacob’s aura dimmed, the once brightly shining orb surrounding him slowly fading before disappearing completely. The tunnel to the afterworld had closed, leaving Booker bereft and alone.
With his spiritual being stuck in limbo, Booker’s focus returned to the physical plane wavering below him. Although distorted, he could make out Judy standing next to Tom, her arm wrapped protectively around his narrow waist. The young officer’s head rested on her shoulder, his face streaked with tears. There was no doubt he was in pain, and once again, Booker’s soul glowed red. He missed Jacob, he always would, but having received his dead lover’s blessing, he knew it was time to move on. His love for Tom was a powerful force, their unique bond helping to keep him anchored to the universe’s mortal coil. And while their relationship had started off in the most unconventional of ways, he had a feeling it was a romance that would stand the test of time. Tom was the yin to his yang, their contrasts making them the perfect couple. And that meant, he needed to return to his physical form and concentrate on healing his damaged body so they could continue their new life together. After all, Tom deserved a chance at the happily ever after, fairy tale ending. The young officer had endured so much heartache during his short time on earth, it was time to balance the scales and be the one to breathe some new life back into his soul.
Slowly, Booker’s essence floated downward. His near-death experience had irrevocably changed him, and with the image of Tom’s face forever imprinted on his soul, his spirit reconnected with his flesh and he once again became whole. Immediately, a misty shroud of darkness consumed him, the sedative coursing through his veins protecting him from the horrors of the outside world. And as the breathing tube filled his lungs with life-giving oxygen, the long, arduous journey toward his recovery began.
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Cries of a Shadow