A/N: Hey there, so before you begin my story I'd like to point out that this is sort of a rewrite of another story I had originally started about five years ago. It just was very unrealistic, and I wanted to develop the characters more with this new story. I hope this version is a lot more realistic and written better. I'd like to thank my friend Angelwomon for her help and support, and if you have the time, you should check out her story for 21 Jump Street the show Our Time Has Come. My story takes place after episode 2X11: A Christmas in Saigon. Thoughts and flashbacks will appear in italics. Also, if you enjoy my story, let me know with a review or a favorite!

Disclaimer: I don't own 21 Jump Street, but I do own Shane.

Nightmares

Harry Ioki couldn't believe it had come to this. His nightmares and flashbacks about the past were actually starting to get in the way of his life. He was usually good at passing the incidents off as food poisoning or something, but not lately, not since everyone found out who he really was. Last night was the worst night he had ever had when it came to the nightmares and now Doug was being affected by them too. Harry sighed and stepped out of his car, the least he could do was give this thing a try for Doug after what happened last night:

Harry sat up in bed and looked at his alarm clock; he had only been asleep for a few hours, and he was already drenched in sweat. It was no use trying to sleep now. They would just come back. He climbed out of bed, walked into the bathroom he and Doug shared, and looked in the mirror. He looked like shit. It's like his parents were all he thought about anymore, even though he could barely remember them now. The last time he slept decently was when he had gotten his first collar, and that was because his adrenaline was high enough to wear him out. Harry shook his head in frustration and walked into the living room, only to find out that Doug had apparently gotten the same idea. He was sitting on the couch staring at the television.

"Penhall, what are you doing up? We have work early in the morning, man," Harry said as he took a seat next to Doug on the couch.

Doug looked over at Harry like he was a ghost. "Oh, uh hey Ioke how long have you been sitting there?" Doug replied. He was really caught off guard.

"Not long, so what were you doing?" Harry asked, curiously.

"I'm watching Johnny Carson like always", Doug lied. He saw Harry raise an eyebrow.

"Penhall, the tube is off. You don't have to lie. What's up?"

Doug sighed and sank deep into the couch. "Look Iokage, I love you like a brother and everything, and I've tried to put up with it as long as I could, but—"

Harry looked at Doug, puzzled. "Wait, put up with what?" Harry asked.

"You talk in your sleep, Harry. It's gotten really bad these past few weeks. At first, it was maybe once a month, but then it turned into a few weeks and now it's every night for a few hours. When I try to go in there to wake you up, you don't remember you're in Vancouver and panic," Doug said, in a concerned brotherly tone.

Harry's mouth went dry , and he felt like a kid that just got caught stealing candy from his parents. His voice cracked when he spoke again, "Panic how?"

Doug shrugged, unsure how to answer. "I don't know. It's different every time. Sometimes you wake up fine, but most times you start talking in Vietnamese or sock me really hard when I try to stay with you. It makes sense now after the party last week."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. He had been keeping Doug up for months. He felt guilty now. "I'm sorry Penhall. I can start looking for a new place tomorrow," Harry mumbled.

Doug yawned before looking at Harry like he was nuts."Whoa, who said anything about moving out. I'm not kicking you out. That's not the point of this conversation, Ioke"

"Then what is your point? I really need to try to go back to bed." Harry whispered, sleepily.

"That's my point you shouldn't have to try to sleep Harry. A man needs sleep like he needs pizza and sex. Everyone is really concerned about your lack of sleep and we collectively think that you should get some help" Doug replied seriously. He saw his best friend raise an eyebrow.

"What sort of help are you suggesting?" Harry asked.

Doug motioned for Harry to follow him into the kitchen and sit down at the table. Harry did so, but didn't really see the point. Doug could've just told him on the sofa. The nice, comfy… Harry felt his head snap up again when he heard Doug set a piece of paper in front of him:

Voices for Veterans

Every Other Thursday 6-8 p.m.

Firstenburg Community Center

Harry stared at it for a few seconds and looked up at Doug in confusion. "Uh…you do realize I'm not a veteran right Penhall?" Harry asked.

"Sure, Iokage, it says voices for veterans not of them. It's open to their families, too. I-" Doug began when Harry interrupted.

"I have no family who are veterans either Doug," Harry said, sounding slightly more annoyed.

"Will you let me finish before you automatically assume this won't work Harry? I understand it's difficult for you, but just give this a chance. I mean, do you like reliving memories like that every night? Doug asked.

Harry sighed. Doug was right. He wanted to remember his parents without remembering the war torn world he grew up in. He wanted to forget Vietnam. "Okay, you're right. What were you saying?"

"I was about to say that I've got this friend who is involved with the group. Shane organizes it and lost a parent after the war. I said you might be interested in getting some help, and we thought you could help the group by letting them know that they did some good things, too. Will you go?" Doug pleaded.

Harry hesitated. He had assumed the identity of a Japanese immigrant for years, and he wasn't sure if he could let that go, "I don't know Penhall. I'm not a big talker."

"So, don't talk just listen tomorrow night. If you like it, you can talk later. I'll make sure Shane knows you're coming." Doug said, sounding supportive.

"How did you and Shane even meet Penhall, and none of us know about it? You two sound pretty close." Harry asked

"Wednesday nights after work, there's a bunch of grief support groups. Both our parents committed suicide. We bonded over that. Shane's pretty strong, Harry." Doug mused.

"How will I know who Shane is?" Harry asked.

Doug tried not to smile. Hopefully his plan worked. "You'll know, Harry. Trust me."


Harry felt like he was going to pass out in the elevator on his way up to the third floor of the community center. He wanted to do this for Doug, but wasn't sure he could. Doug's heart was in the right place, Harry knew that, but he had a sneaky feeling that a bunch of Vets wouldn't be too happy to see him. Doug had no idea what it was like to be discriminated against because of race. He startled when he heard the elevator door open. Why couldn't he just turn around? He didn't want to talk about how his parents, brother and best friend were shot by the Viet-Cong, or how he was almost killed by a grenade, but at the same time, he couldn't stand the way the flashbacks and nightmares plagued him.

"Are you coming out of the elevator or not?" A voice pulled Harry out of his head. He looked up, embarrassed as he saw a young woman standing in front of him. She supported herself on a pair of crutches. "If you're not coming out you need to go back down stairs. I have people coming who actually need it," the woman said with a tone of annoyance.

A blush spread across Harry's face as he stepped out of the elevator. "Sorry, I was just thinking about going back," Harry said, still embarrassed. He noticed that the woman standing in front of him had a smirk on her face. Her green eyes appeared to be smoldering.

"I would want to turn around too, if I were a Vietnamese man about to sit down in a support group that he's not welcome in. I mean, I won't be rude to you, but they might be," smirked the woman.

The blush quickly faded from Harry's face. It was in that moment that he realized who he was talking to. Doug's friend Shane was not a man, but an incredibly beautiful woman who apparently thought he was the enemy. So much for her protection.