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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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Caught up in the thrill of his new endeavor, Tom happily prattled on about the mentoring program for a full ten minutes before he realized Booker hadn’t said a word. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d monopolized a conversation and embarrassed by his audacity, he quickly brought the subject to an end. “So, that’s about it. There are still some kinks the department needs to work out, but the program should be up and running sometime in the next few months. Which is perfect ‘cause I can stay home with you until your doctor gives you the thumbs up to return to work.”
Worried their discussion was about to revert back to his convalescence, Booker quickly changed the topic. “So, what else is new? How's your therapy going? You haven't mentioned anything about it since...well, you know.”
Tom did know, and uncomfortable with the change of conversation, he suddenly became evasive. “I dunno. It’s going okay, I guess.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, it’s going okay.”
“That’s not really an answer, Tom. Something’s up. Do you want to talk about it?”
Backed into a corner, Tom struggled internally with his dilemma. On the one hand, he wanted his relationship with Booker to move past the kissing stage. On the other, discussing his therapist’s suggestions would reveal his inadequacies as a man.
Biting down on his lower lip, his teeth toyed with the soft flesh as he silently tossed up his options. To confess or not confess, that was the question, and while the answer seemed simple enough, past experience had taught him nothing was ever straightforward. Even if he did admit the uncomfortable truth, there was no guarantee Booker would help him. And so, he remained silent, the knot of anxiety in his stomach steadily tightening with each passing minute.
Often blunt to the point of rudeness, Booker’s usual approach was to push until he received an acceptable answer. Tom, however, was the exception to the rule. The young officer brought out his nurturing side, and the last thing he wanted was for his homecoming to end in all-out war. He could feel the rising panic undulating off his friend in waves, and resting a hand on his thigh, he attempted to comfort him. “It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
A radiating heat penetrated through the denim of Tom’s jeans, the warmth of his friend’s touch giving him the strength to push through the debilitating wall of anxiety bearing down on him. A sudden weight lifted off his shoulders, and raising his head, he managed a shaky smile. If past actions were anything to go by, Booker had proved himself a worthy confidante on more than one occasion and taking a deep breath, he tried to articulate his feelings. “I do want to, it’s just…”
“Just what?” Booker coaxed in a soft voice.
Indecision furrowed Tom’s brow. “Just promise me you won’t laugh.”
Puzzled by the statement, Booker raised a questioning eyebrow. “Laugh at what?”
Gripping hold of the cushion in his lap, Tom found the courage to speak openly. “My therapist has suggested a couple of ways I can overcome my blackouts.”
The muscles in Booker’s face relaxed into a relieved smile. “Geez, Tommy, that’s great news. So, c’mon. Spill. What are they?”
Tom’s nervous lip-chewing resumed at a rapid pace. He had no idea if he’d just ripped open a proverbial can of worms, but what he did know was he had no choice but to continue. Booker was not only his friend, he was also a potential lover, and he owed him the truth if their relationship stood any chance of succeeding.
Unconsciously seeking protection against the ridicule he felt sure would come, he used the cushion as a shield and clutched it to his chest. “Well, the first thing she suggested was using tactual stimulation to help me relax. You know, something that Will didn’t do, so I don’t associate it with my abuse.”
Booker took a moment to absorb the information before offering an opinion. “Makes sense. So, what kind of things are we talking about?”
Embarrassed, Tom gesticulated his uncertainty by twitching his shoulders. “I dunno. Will wasn’t really physically affectionate. Except when he...Uh, what I mean is, he mostly used words more than caresses to show me he cared.”
An unpleasant, queasy sensation churned in Booker’s stomach, the nauseous feeling slowly rising into his throat. He had serious doubts about Will’s fraternal sentiment for his brother, but he was astute enough to keep his thoughts to himself. He found it a struggle, but despite the waves of weariness surging through his body, he managed to keep his voice upbeat. “Okay, cool. So, I guess we need to try a few things to see what you like. What else did she say?”
It was an innocent enough question, but those five simple words had a profound effect on Tom. His body instantly stiffened, and his hands clasped together so tightly, the flesh blanched. The time had come for him to disclose his private shame, but he had no idea how to express his ignorance or ask for help. Swallowing down his rising panic, his Adam's apple bobbed painfully in his throat. He tried to smile, but his expression was so pained it turned into a grimace as a distressing memory took form inside his mind. Vivid...powerful...the word freak reverberated inside his head, the loud, taunting insult crippling him with the certainty of its tone. No matter what hurdles he overcame, he was a freak, and the sooner he accepted it, the lower his expectations would become.
“Baby?”
Hearing the softly spoken pet name had an emotional effect on Tom. A lump formed in his throat and closing his eyes, he silently counted to ten. He knew he needed to dig deep and somehow find the courage to speak the embarrassing words hovering on his lips, and opening his eyes, he dared to meet the dark-haired officer’s worried gaze.
Encouraged, Booker tried again. “C’mon, Tommy. It’s me, your best friend in the whole world. You know you can talk to me about anything, so why don’t you tell me what’s eating you up inside.”
For Tom, it was a now or never moment, and before the little voice inside his head had a chance to tell him to shut the fuck up, he released his embarrassing secret into the universe in a loud, squeaky voice. “She says I should masturbate!”
This time, Booker had no hope of masking his surprise. His mouth dropped open, his eyes noticeably boggling at the unexpected news. But when he saw the look of angst etched on his friend’s face, he fought hard to gather his composure. Tom’s dark, shimmering eyes were suffused with panic, and fearing his friend was teetering on the edge of a meltdown, the dark-haired officer used humor in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Well, I could think of worse things.”
Silence met his chuckled response, and he immediately realized his mistake. Whatever was troubling Tom, it wasn’t a joking matter, and he mentally kicked himself for his insensitivity. It was poor judgment on his part, and he should have known better. Rather than making light of a serious situation, he should have offered a sympathetic ear. Tom had trust issues, and he needed a friend, not a comedian. It was a valuable lesson learned and reaching out a hand, the dark-haired officer gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind his friend’s ear. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to make fun of your therapy. It's just...I don't understand why her suggestion is making you so uncomfortable.”
It was a simple act of affection, an almost unconscious physical gesture, but it had the desired effect. The muscles in Tom’s face relaxed beneath the warmth of Booker’s gentle touch, and although unable to meet his friend’s worried gaze, he managed to articulate the embarrassing truth. “It's because I haven't...I mean...Sex never really interested me before because...well, you know. So, I don’t really know how to...”
Tom’s voice trailed off, but he’d managed to reveal enough for Booker to decipher the meaning behind his somewhat cryptic confession. The dark-haired officer’s eyes widened, and passing a hand over his mouth, he stared at his lover in disbelief. “Jesus, Tom, are you saying you've never masturbated?”
Keeping his eyes lowered, Tom’s right thumbnail frantically picked at the exposed cuticle of his left. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he confirmed, his words punctuated with an unnerving high-pitched laugh.
A thousand questions swirled around in Booker’s mind. “Weren’t you ever curious? Don’t you ever get horny? Don’t you ever just wake up with a boner? What do you do if you DO wake up with a boner? How the FUCK have you reached the age of twenty-four without ever jerking off? What the fuck is WRONG with you?”
They were all valid questions, but this time, rather than blurting out a witty one-liner to deflect the awkwardness of the situation, Booker managed to exercise a certain degree of self-restraint. “Shit, I don’t know what to...Shit.”
Fighting the tremor in his chest, Tom found the courage to lift his head. He managed a furtive glance at his friend before his lower lip started to quiver, and afraid he was about to make a fool of himself yet again, he quickly lowered his gaze. “You were right all along,” he muttered in a quiet voice. “I guess I really am a freak. What man doesn’t masturbate? Certainly not a fucking normal one.”
Booker’s heart panged at the pitiful sight before him. His Tommy was suffering yet again, and all he wanted to do was gather him protectively in his arms and hug away his pain. But something stopped him. Sometimes, words offered more reassurance than a demonstrative display of affection. He wasn’t one hundred percent certain he was right, but in the end, he decided to put his faith in his instincts. After all, if he couldn’t trust his gut, then he was probably in the wrong job.
Gently pulling Tom’s hands apart, the dark-haired officer took hold of one and gave the fingers an encouraging squeeze. “Nothing about your life with Will was normal, Tom,” he murmured, his soft brown eyes desperately seeking contact as he tried to convey all his compassion with one simple look. “But that doesn’t make you a freak. Fate dealt you a fucking bad hand, but look at you. You survived, and that makes you more of a man than any other guy I know.”
Embarrassed by his friend’s close scrutiny, a self-conscious blush colored Tom’s cheeks. He was starting to wish he’d kept his secret to himself. The sympathy projecting from Booker’s eyes was almost as emotionally crippling as the taunts he’d endured at the hands of his peers. Rather than reassure him, the dark-haired officer’s unwavering support only helped cement his feelings of inadequacy. Would the day ever come when he was capable of standing on his own two feet without his friend hovering in the wings ready to catch him when he fell? He was starting to doubt it, and the realization was as demoralizing as the notion he would never know real love. It was then the crushing weight of anxiety returned. A tight band of panic squeezed his chest, and blinking back the traitorous tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he rose to his feet. He needed an escape, and spying the discarded laundry basket, he pulled his hand free from Booker’s hold and hurried across the room. “Um, I really should throw your clothes into the machine,” he mumbled, and before Booker had time to protest, he picked up the hamper and disappeared out the door.
Settling back against the plump couch cushions, Booker exhaled a weighty sigh. Tom’s shame was ego-dystonic, and he knew his friend well enough to give him some space before resuming their conversation. And if he were honest with himself, it was as much for his benefit as well as for Tom’s. The young officer’s confession had rattled him, and he was having a hard time reconciling it in his own mind. Sex with the man he cautiously considered his boyfriend, while a titillating concept, was fast becoming an unattainable dream. They still had so many hurdles to overcome, and although an optimist, he was starting to wonder if he’d ever experience the sensation of Tom’s sweat-soaked body writhing beneath him. It was a heavy blow to his heart, but it did not mean he would admit defeat. Thomas Hanson might have many imperfections, but he was a man worth fighting for, and that meant, it was up to him to find a way to help his friend through his latest dilemma.
Satisfied with his decision, Booker hauled himself to his feet and walked into his bedroom. He hoped in the invigorating light of a new day, Tom would find the courage to continue their conversation. But until then, he needed sleep. It was still early, but he was physically and emotionally exhausted and slowly undressing, he crawled under the bedclothes and fell into a dreamless slumber.
**
Tom sat on one of the wooden slatted benches in the laundry room, his gaze fixed on the window in the dryer door. The balletic tumble of clothes was oddly comforting, the hypnotic dance of the fabric helping soothe his soul. Enough time had passed for him to reflect on his conversation with Booker without his emotions distorting reality. Surprisingly, when he viewed their exchange through neutral eyes, he realized the dark-haired officer’s reaction to his admission was far less demoralizing than he’d first thought. Yes, there was a certain degree of shock in his friend’s dark eyes when he’d imparted his truth, but who could blame him? His confession was shocking. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized, under the circumstances, Booker’s response was entirely understandable. Once again, it was his own self-condemnation feeding his fear of rejection, and instead of running away with his tail between his legs, he should have faced his friend and talked through his problem. He felt more than a little foolish, and he hoped Booker would forgive his childish behavior. Although, deep down, he knew he would. Because that was the kind of man Booker was, and that was why he was so hopelessly head over heels in love with him.
Laying down on the narrow bench, Tom folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. He still had a lot to learn about human interaction, but with Booker’s gentle guidance, he hoped one day, he would find the courage to face his fears head-on. Until then, he was more than happy to remain the student, safe in the hands of the man he loved.
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Cries of a Shadow