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Beneath a Heart of Darkness	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 4657 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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 under the shower, his head bent forward, the warm, therapeutic water sluicing over his tired, aching shoulders. While he had no memory of Holland abusing him, he could not dispel the myriad of disturbing images haunting his mind. Ingram Holland was a predator, a man who stalked his prey for the sole purpose of satisfying his sexual appetite. Whether the sick sonofabitch had touched him, photographed him, or videoed him made no difference. Whatever the scenario, he felt violated, and just knowing he had starred in one of the mogul’s sexual fantasies caused him as much mental anguish as his rape.
Although not convinced he had managed to wash away whatever remained of Holland’s touch, the young officer turned off the faucets and stepped out of the cubicle. The effects of the drug had left him with a headache, and closing his eyes against the brightness of the overhead light, he dabbed at the droplets of water mottling his flesh. As the towel moved over his body, a clear image flashed into his head, a conscious awareness of Holland’s fingers moving over his cock. His mind latched onto the memory, bringing the flashback to life as effectively as watching a movie unfold on the big screen. The muddled puzzle pieces moved through his mind, eventually fitting together to form a startling reality. The loving strokes coaxing his cock to hardness and the vile, taunting words whispered in his ear were not a dream. Holland had molested him, and no matter how hard he tried to wipe the vision from his memory, he knew the truth would haunt him forever.
The towel dropped from between his fingers, and with a stomach-churning heave, he bent over and threw up in the sink.
“Oh God,” he moaned, the stench of vomit lingering in his nostrils. “Why do they keep doing this to me?”
A loud knock jerked his head upright, and wiping a shaky hand over his mouth, he turned toward the door. An expectant silence hung in the air, adding to his anxiety. He briefly considered staying quiet, but he knew if he didn’t answer, Booker would find a way to get in. The last thing he wanted was another altercation, and realizing resistance was futile, he cleared the remaining vomit from his throat.
“Just a minute,” he called out, hoping against hope the tremor in his voice hadn’t betrayed him. Turning on the faucet, he rinsed out his mouth and washed away the putrid mess staining the ceramic sink. After briefly scrutinizing his face in the mirror, searching for any telltale signs of distress, he pulled on a clean tee shirt and boxers. It wasn’t easy to portray a sense of calm when his world was once again imploding, but he remembered the deep breathing technique shown to him by his therapist and closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply through his nose. Several moments later, he felt ready to face his friend, and forcing a smile to his lips, he opened the door.
The paleness of Tom’s face drew an immediate response from Booker and reaching out a hand, the dark-haired officer stroked a loving finger down his lover’s chiseled cheek. “Are you okay?”
Overcome with emotion, Tom’s inner resolve weakened, sending a wave of emotion rippling through his body. A single tear leaked unchecked from his eye, winding its way down his haggard face. His throat worked noisily as he fought back a sob, the depth of his anguish shining from his beautiful, brown eyes. “I can't do this anymore,” he choked. “It’s killing me.”
Booker’s hand stilled, his lover’s words sending a cold bolt of fear shooting through his heart. “This?” he whispered, his grief catching in his throat. “Are you breaking up with me?”
Perplexed, Tom’s eyebrows pulled together, shock forcing his anguish back to a manageable level. “What?” he sniffed, his fingers swiping at the opaque droplet glistening on his cheek. “Why would you think that? I meant I’m tired of feeling like a victim.”
The memory of Jorge’s revelation had Booker’s eyes widening in surprise. He hadn’t given the young Latino’s news much credence when he’d disclosed Tom wanted to put the Pi Taus in jail, but he now found a cautious hope swelling inside his chest. “Are you saying you want to lay charges against McCarter and the others?” he asked, hardly daring to believe his wish might become a reality.
Tired of the emotional baggage weakening his spirit, Tom drew back his shoulders, a defiant glint temporarily masking the pain in his eyes. “Yeah, I am. I wanna take the fuckers down, including Holland.”
While Tom’s announcement sent a shiver of satisfaction down Booker’s spine, he understood his role wasn’t as a police officer but as a friend. He could not wait to see the smug smiles wiped off the Pi Taus’ arrogant, privileged faces, but for the case to go smoothly, he needed to take a step back and not let his hotheadedness ruin Tom’s chances of a conviction. It wouldn’t be easy, but for Tom to feel in control, he knew he needed to tone down his impetuous nature and let his lover take charge. He would, however, be in his corner, every step of the way, supporting him the only other way he knew how, with unwavering love and understanding. His lover would face many ups and downs, all of which would influence their relationship, but Booker didn’t care. What was important was Tom’s happiness, and the only way the young officer would ever be truly free was to see his rapists behind bars.
Swallowing down the emotional lump rising in this throat, Booker stepped forward and pulling Tom into his arms, he hugged him tight. “Oh, baby,” he murmured. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Fresh tears glistened in Tom’s eyes, but this time, they did not fall. He was done crying. Instead, he intended to stand tall and draw strength from the man who was changing his life for the better.
After returning the hug, Tom carefully extricated himself from Booker’s hold. With a small smile, he took him by the hand and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. He knew what he was about to say would upset his lover, but having made up his mind, he felt the need to get it off his chest. “The only way I can do this is if I quit the force,” he revealed in a soft voice, a nervous tic twitching his lips. “I don’t want the newspapers reporting this, and they will if they know I’m a cop.”
Booker’s immediate reaction was to protest, to tell his lover he was making a huge mistake and he could file charges against the Pi Taus without giving up the job he adored. But when he saw the look in Tom’s eyes, the desperate, pleading look, begging him to understand, he closed his mouth. Although conflicted, he realized it wasn’t his fight, it was Tom’s, and he needed to accept his decision and support him without question.
Unsure of Booker’s reaction, Tom’s left thumb found its way into his mouth. Chewing on a jagged piece of nail, his eyes searched the dark-haired officer’s face for answers. “Are you freaked?” he mumbled against his hand. “It’s just I—”
“Shhh,” Booker murmured, his hand gently liberating Tom’s thumb from his mouth. “I’m not freaked, you just kinda took me by surprise. I meant what I said, I’m really proud of you, Tommy. Those assholes won’t know what hit ‘em once we’ve finished with ‘em.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Tom replied absently, his voice lacking conviction.
Although disappointed in his lover’s lack of enthusiasm, the impassive response didn’t cause Booker any alarm. It was early days, and he knew his baby well enough to know his dogged determination would shine through and he would find the courage he needed to take the bastards down.
The two men stood in silence, the enormity of the situation weighing heavily on their shoulders. Sensing Tom wasn’t in the mood to strategize, Booker changed the subject. “So, how did Penhall take the news? Do I need to watch my back?”
Tom’s mouth twitched at the corner as his eyes darted nervously to the floor. “I dunno,” he muttered with a shrug of his shoulders. “I guess he’s okay with it. He didn’t really say much, he just asked if I was happy.”
Booker’s heart began to beat in a quick, uneasy rhythm, the irregular thump, thump, sending tremors of anxiety through his limbs, leaving him jittery. Although he thought he knew the answer, he felt an inexplicable need for clarification. “And are you?”
It wasn’t often Tom got to witness Booker’s vulnerable side. The dark-haired officer was so adept at hiding his insecurities, he rarely sought validation from anyone. But the night’s events had obviously rattled him, taking its toll on his self-esteem. It was a breakthrough of sorts for Tom. For the first time in their relationship, it was Booker seeking reassurance, and knowing he could finally be the one to offer a comforting hand was just what he needed to bolster his confidence. He was finally Booker’s emotional equal.
With a slow, engaging smile, the young officer stepped forward. “What do you think?” he murmured, his lips brushing over Booker’s worried pout. But in spite of his best efforts, the dark-haired officer remained unresponsive, and concerned by the odd behavior, Tom stepped back, his expression sober. “You know I can’t do any of this without you, right?”
But they weren’t the words Booker wanted to hear. “Is that why you stay with me?” he pushed, unable to let the matter drop. “Do you just see me as your protector?”
“No!” Tom exclaimed, frustration rolling off him in waves, and taking a step back, he raked his fingers through his damp hair. “Is that what you think? You think I’m just using you until I feel safe? Jesus, Dennis, I LOVE you! Why don’t you believe that?”
“I DON’T KNOW!” Booker yelled, his voice rising in anguish. “I want to believe it, but when I think of him touching you, I just—”
“So, this is my fault?” Tom choked, disbelief widening his eyes. “Holland kidnaps and assaults me, but I’m the one to blame? Well, fuck you, Booker. If it weren’t for you, Ingram Holland wouldn’t have given a flying fuck about me! You did this to me! YOU!”
With the truth now out in the open, Booker lost what remained of his fortitude. His face crumpled, pain radiating from his dark eyes. He was the one to blame, not Tom. If he hadn’t sought out Holland, his lover would not have had to endure another assault.
Choking on his distress, the dark-haired officer covered his face in his hands. “Oh, God,” he cried, his shoulders shuddering with each racking sob. “I’m sorry! I’m so… fucking... SORRY!”
Regret softened Tom’s eyes. He hadn’t meant to accuse his lover, his emotions were so screwed up, he had reacted without thinking. Even Jorge wasn’t to blame, despite the role he’d played.There was only one person the young officer held accountable, and that was Ingram Holland. The mogul was a psychopathic predator, and after witnessing Booker’s breakdown, he was more determined than ever to put the sonofabitch behind bars.
Moved by the unashamed display of grief, Tom wrapped his arms around Booker’s quivering shoulders and drew him in close. “No, I’m sorry,” he whispered against the smooth skin just below his lover’s ear. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
When Booker remained silent, he placed a hand under his chin and tenderly tilted his head. Tears glistened in the dark-haired officer’s eyes, the unshed droplets shimmering in the harsh, overhead light. For Tom, the sight was so distressing, he felt a physical pain stab at his heart. The emotion spread throughout his body, working its way into his throat in the form of a lump. But he quickly swallowed it down. It was time for him to stand up and prove to Booker his self-worth. He would not buckle under the strain. Instead, he would show his lover he was ready to fight for their relationship.
“This is what Holland wants,” he warned in a low voice. “He’s manipulating us, hoping we’ll turn on each other. But our love is stronger than that, Dennis. We can’t let him win. We can’t let his sick, perverted games tear us apart.”
The profound statement had its desired effect and wiping the tears from his eyes, Booker sniffed loudly. “You’re right. Jesus, I’m such a fucking idiot. I should have known he’d try to play us against each other, and I guess he succeeded.”
Tom’s mouth pressed into a firm line. “No, he didn’t. He may think he did, but he didn’t.”
Time did an about face. These were the words Booker wanted to hear, and placing his hands on either side of Tom’s face, he gazed lovingly into his eyes. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
Relief eased the tension in Tom’s body, and his face relaxed into a smile. “Just don’t do it again,” he joked, pleased that the fight was over.
The emotion of the evening took its toll on Booker, and he stifled a yawn. “Let’s go to bed. I’ve had enough of Ingram Holland for one day.”
A shiver ran down the length of Tom’s spine. “Yeah, me too,” he muttered.
However, the recollection of Holland’s touch remained forever ingrained within the young officer’s soul, and although he knew he should open up and talk about it, he made a silent vow never to disclose the memory to Booker. After all, what his lover didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
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Beneath a Heart of Darkness