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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2449 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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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Picking himself up off the floor, Tom placed a hand over the gash in his neck and staggered from the room. CO Mary Ellis; who was one of only a few correctional officers who actually cared about the inmates’ wellbeing, rushed forward and quickly escorted him to the medical facility. He sat in stunned silence as a doctor cleaned the wound and inserted several sutures. When the GP picked up his instruments and left the room, Mary crossed her arms across her chest and gave him a perturbed look. “Care to tell me who did this to you Hanson?” she asked in a quiet voice.
Tom lowered his eyes and shook his head. He knew the jail code all too well; keep your mouth shut or suffer the consequences. On the inside, the inmates considered a snitch the lowest of all criminals and he would do neither himself nor Dennis any favors by informing on Carlos Martínez and the rest of his gang. Telling the hacks what was happening would not help, they needed to find a way to defend themselves against the attacks and prove to the other prisoners that they were not easy targets. By doing that, they had a better chance of survival.
Slipping down off the gurney, Tom raised his eyes and gave Ellis a sullen look. “Can I go now?” he mumbled.
Mary Ellis heaved a sigh of frustration. Stepping forward, she laid a hand on Tom’s arm. “How do you expect me to help you if you won’t tell me what’s going on?” she asked gently.
Tom gave the hack a bitter smile. “You can’t help us,” he muttered, “And even if you could, they’d just do it to someone else.”
Knowing that she was unlikely to receive any further information, Mary accompanied Tom back to general population. As she watched Hanson slowly climb the metal staircase up to his cell, she wished that she could do more to protect the vulnerable inmates under her care.
**
When Tom reached the top of the stairway and stood on top of the metal balcony that ran the length of the second floor, he paused outside his cell and closed his eyes. The injury to his neck stung painfully and blood covered the front of his t-shirt and stained his hands. He felt sick but he knew his pain did not compare to how Booker must be feeling. Martínez had humiliated him in the most savagely cruel way possible and it would be difficult for him to recover from the shame. Tom felt enormous guilt over what had happened because he knew Dennis had only done what he had to protect him from harm. He hated it that Booker felt obligated to safeguard him but he also knew that he was somewhat responsible for his friend’s guilt. After Bentley had forced Dennis to have sex with him, he had suffered a complete breakdown and the result was that he had completely lost control and killed his abuser. He knew that Dennis felt partly accountable for his moment of blind rage and that was why he had not allowed him to take sole responsibility for the murder. It was the same situation now that they were in jail; Booker felt the need to protect him from himself. Tom knew that Dennis feared that if pushed too far, he might again snap and if that happened, he could end up facing an accusation for assault, or even worse, another manslaughter charge. However, he also knew that Dennis was in love with him and would do anything to protect him, even to his own detriment. It worried him how devoted Booker was to him, to the point of putting himself through hell just to save him from harm.
Opening his eyes, Tom knew he could delay the inevitable no longer; he needed to check on Dennis and make sure he was okay, well as okay as someone could be after suffering a sexual assault. He understood all too well that his friend had needed time alone after the attack to gather his thoughts and to allow himself to lose control and breakdown without prying eyes watching him. However, too much time alone was injurious to the grieving process and it was now time for him to be consoled.
Walking into the cell, Tom stopped when he saw Booker leaning against the small hand basin, his fixed gaze focused on his reflection in the mirror. When he started to move towards his friend, Dennis’ strained voice stopped him with one word. “Don’t.”
Hanson stood still and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Dennis I—” he began in a soft voice.
Booker immediately cut him off. “This isn’t about you Hanson,” he replied through clenched teeth whilst his gaze never left his reflection in the mirror. “I don’t want to talk to you and I don’t want to look at you, so why don’t you piss off and leave me the hell alone.”
Unable to accept that Booker did not want him around, Tom tried again. “But Dennis I think—” he replied quietly but he flinched in surprise when Dennis slammed his fist into the mirror. He stared in horror at Booker’s bloodied hand and the shattered remains of the mirror and he felt perspiration prickling his forehead. The signs were all there, Booker was about to lose control completely and he needed to step in and prevent him from hurting himself or others. Ignoring the earlier warning, he stepped forward and laid a hand on his friend’s arm. “Dennis—”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Dennis screamed and turning around he charged at Tom and shoving him in the chest, he knocked him to the floor. He stood over Hanson’s prone body with his hands balled into tight fists and his expression enraged. “I’M BOOKER!” he yelled hysterically, his eyes flashing wildly. “DO YOU HEAR ME? BOOKER! I’M NOT YOUR FRIEND… YOU HATE ME! YOU’VE ALWAYS HATED ME! WHY ARE YOU PRETENDING TO BE MY FRIEND YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH? I FUCKING HATE YOU! NOW FUCK OFF! JUST FUCK OFF!”
Fear gripped at Tom’s heart and holding out both hands in the surrender position, he slowly scrambled to his feet. Dennis’ eyes glared at him manically and he wondered if he had worn the same deranged expression when he had murdered Rory Bentley. Stepping backwards, he spoke in a low calm voice. “It’s okay Booker,” he murmured soothingly. “I’m leaving. When you want to talk, you know I’m here for you.”
Dennis let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah?” he asked in a mocking tone. “Since when have any of you Jump Street officers ever been there for me?”
Tom felt a sudden burst of anger at Booker’s words and his face burned red. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted. “I thought we were friends! I thought there was something… something developing between us. Why are you pushing me away now? We need to protect each other, we need—”
Booker’s expression remained impassive and turning away, he climbed slowly up onto his bunk and lying down, he covered his eyes with his arm. “I told you, we’re not friends,” he muttered in a barely audible voice. “We’re not anything, now leave me alone.”
Bewildered by the turn of events, Tom turned away and walked from the room with tears glistening in his eyes.
**
Sitting alone at the end of the long dining table, Tom picked at his food and tried to block out the noisy chatter that echoed around the large room. Dennis had remained in their cell, refusing to speak or even make eye contact with him and he was becoming increasingly concerned about his hostile behavior. He understood that his friend was having difficulty coming to terms with him witnessing the degradation he had suffered at the hands of Martínez but he was saddened that he was unable to offer any support. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms protectively around Booker and give him comfort but he knew his advances would only bring more rejection. Dennis had been there for him repeatedly and now he was helpless to assist the man who he now considered a close friend. It was almost as though his very presence caused Booker insurmountable pain and he was unsure how to remedy the situation. They had another seventeen days until their preliminary hearing and he hoped that they would not spend that time estranged in a place that preyed upon those who were alone.
Picking up his tray, he scraped his uneaten food into the trash and walked out of the dining room and into the main gen pop area. His eyes searched the room, seeking out CO Ellis but she was nowhere in sight. Sighing, he suddenly remembered that her shift had ended before the dinner bell. He had hoped to have a quiet word with her and explain his concerns about Booker’s mental health. She was the most understanding officer in the jail and even though he needed to be careful about how much information he divulged, he was confident that she would be able to read between the lines and get Dennis a meeting with a doctor.
Having nowhere else to go except back up to the cell, Tom climbed the metal stairway and walked into the small room. Booker was asleep with his face turned towards the wall. Hanson paused by the side of the bed and reached out his hand but he quickly withdrew it. There was no point in causing Dennis more pain by making contact. He just had to be patient and hope that his friend would once again, turn to him for support.
**
Tom awoke to the sound of Dennis urinating. Yawning loudly, he sat up and ran his fingers through his messy hair. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood up and scratched lazily at his stomach. He waited for Booker to finish before taking his place at the toilet and he sighed as he relieved his bladder. By the time he had finished, Booker had left the room and he was alone with his thoughts.
Picking up his towel and toiletries, he wandered slowly from the cell and joined the line of men heading towards the communal shower room. Before he had even entered the large, tiled bathroom he could hear the sound of barking and his blood ran cold. Pushing his way to the front of the line, he stormed into the room, terrified of what he would see. He sighed when he caught sight of Booker under the shower and that Martínez and Morgan were only goading him by barking. It was not a pleasant situation to witness but compared to what Tom thought he was going to see, it was a relief. He stood for a moment and studied Booker’s reaction to the taunts but from what he could see, his friend appeared not to notice. Again, a feeling of unease ran through Hanson’s body. He hoped that Dennis was feigning oblivion and that he had not completely withdrawn from his surroundings.
Entering a free shower, Tom kept an eye on Dennis but it appeared Martínez had decided not to engage in any foul play, at least not for the time being. He felt himself relax when the inmate left without making any further remarks. Moments later, Booker stepped out of the shower and quickly dried off before dressing in the regulation white t-shirt and jeans. Tom hurried out of the shower in the hope of keeping Dennis in view but by the time he had dressed, the young officer was nowhere in sight. Returning to their cell, he was surprised to find it empty but he figured that Dennis must have already made his way to breakfast. When he arrived in the dining hall, he scanned the long trestle tables for any sign of his friend. Unable to find him, he joined the line and after receiving his food, he sat down with several men who he knew to be reasonably trustworthy. He refrained from any conversation, preferring to eat his food and get back to his cell as quickly as possible. Today was a new day and even though Booker had snubbed him that morning, he hoped that maybe he would be able to reach out and let him know that he was there for him.
When he entered their cell, Booker was not there and he wondered if he had gone to the gym. Turning around, he almost collided with Dennis as he walked into the room. Unable to stop himself, Tom smiled but the grin froze on his lips when he looked into his friend’s eyes and saw that his pupils were distinctively small. Grabbing hold of Dennis shoulders, he spun him around and shoved him into the tiny room. “What the hell have you taken?” he yelled. “Are you fucking insane? You’re taking drugs now?”
A slow smile spread over Dennis’ lips and hoisting himself up on to his bunk, he grinned down at Tom. “And what exactly are you going to do about it Tommy?” he smirked.
It was then that Tom feared losing Dennis forever.
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies