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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: 2448 -:- 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
- 23
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Nurse Andrea Collins stood at Tom’s bedside checking his vitals whilst he slept. Although still strapped to the bed, his head moved from side to side and unintelligible words tumbled from his dry lips. Aware of the signs, Nurse Collins laid a gentle hand on the top of his head and spoke to him in a low, sweet voice. “Wake up Tom,” she instructed softly whilst her hand stroked his matted hair. “You’re having a nightmare.”
Tom’s eyes flew open and he stared frantically around the room, his disorientation evident in his wide, frightened eyes. He struggled to sit up but the wide leather straps around his torso, wrists, legs and ankles prevented him from moving. Panic set in and he began to hyperventilate as he fought against the restraints holding him down. It was only when Nurse Collins’ face came into view that he remembered where he was and his body relaxed back against the mattress. Looking up into her sympathetic face, the enormity of what had happened to him hit hard and he started to cry.
Andrea felt a stabbing pain in her heart and pulling up a chair, she sat down at Tom’s bedside and continued to stroke his hair. “Shh,” she murmured quietly. “You’ll be okay. I promise you, you’ll be okay.”
Tom did not answer but he took comfort from the gentle caress of the nurse’s hand and closing his eyes, he drifted back into an uneasy sleep.
**
Booker stood secreted in the shadows under the metal staircase, a small vial of heroin concealed in the palm of his hand. Lifting the tiny cylinder to his nostril, he inhaled deeply through his nose and snorted up a measure of the fine white powder. Pinching his nostrils closed, he screwed his eyes shut and a slow grin played across his lips. In approximately ten minutes, his mind would be free. He could forget all of the pain and suffering he had endured and the sights he had witnessed over the last two weeks would become a distant memory, if only for a moment. Now that he no longer had Hanson, heroin was his new best friend and if he could not physically escape the confines of the jail, the drug at least allowed him to escape mentally.
Wiping his finger under his nose to remove any telltale traces of the white powder, he shoved the vial deep into his pocket and sauntered out into the recreation area. Spying a group of men playing pool, he wandered over to the table and leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms and watched the game. As the effects of the drug took hold of his mind, he began to relax and really enjoy the tournament playing out between the two inmates. When it had finished, he pushed himself away from the wall and stepping forward, he boldly challenged the winner. The large, bald, tattooed man eyed him up and down before silently handing him a cue. It did not take long for word to spread that Martínez’s prag had challenged John The Tank Jenkins and a large group of men gathered around the table. Money secretly changed hands as the inmates bet on who would win. Booker racked up the balls and smiling smugly at the tattooed man, he nodded at the table. “Ladies first.”
Jenkins emitted a low growl and after chalking his cue, he stepped forward. Leaning his substantial stomach against the table, he took the breaking shot. When the white ball hit it sounded like a firing pistol and the balls scattered around the table. Moving slowly into position, Booker took aim and easily pocketed the striped number fourteen ball. Grinning cheekily, he winked at Jenkins. “Looks like I’ve got the big balls,” he smirked. “I guess yours are small.”
With a snarl, Jenkins rushed at Dennis and knocked him to the ground. Loud cheering echoed around the room as the angry inmate repeatedly slammed his fist into Booker’s face. Within moments, Trent Matheson, Blake Harrison and Bill Jacobs had pushed through the crowd of men and hauled Jenkins to his feet. Booker remained on the floor, grinning manically through bloodstained teeth whilst his eyes flashed crazily. “Are you forfeiting you motherfucker?” he yelled.
He continued to watch Matheson and Jacobs drag the tattooed man away until Harrison toed him in the leg with his boot. “On your feet Booker, you need to see the doctor.”
Mary Ellis arrived and stepping forward, she placed her hand on Harrison’s arm. “I’ll take him,” she offered, hoping that Harrison would not intervene. She wanted another chance to speak to Booker and knowing that Tom was in the medical facility, she hoped that maybe he would agree to visit his colleague.
“Your call,” Harrison muttered, not caring one way or the other who dealt with Booker. He had been a correctional officer for twenty years and any compassion he had initially felt for the inmates had vanished over the years. It amused him that Ellis still thought she could make a difference in the lives of the men under her charge but it also made his life easier. If she wanted to be hands on, that was fine with him; it gave him more time to sneak a cigarette on the roof or grab a cup of coffee.
Ellis waited until Booker was standing before assessing his injuries. He had a split lip and a cut above his eye but no other visible signs of trauma. Taking the young officer by the arm, she steered him in the direction of the entrance that led out into the main building. As they walked down the corridor towards the medical facility, she suddenly stopped and stood in front of Dennis with her hands on her hips. “That was stupid,” she reprimanded him. “John Jenkins is twice your size. Why did you goad him into attacking you?”
Booker gingerly touched his bloodied lip and smiled. “I was bored,” he replied cockily.
Ellis sighed and softened her look. “What’s happened to you Dennis?” she asked quietly. “When you came in here you were a completely different person… a caring person. But now, well now you’re behaving like an asshole. What happened between you and Hanson for you to change so much in only a few days?”
Scowling heavily, Booker gave the CO a hard stare. “It’s none of your damn business what happened between me and Hanson,” he snarled. “And I sure as hell don’t need a lecture from some hack. Now, if we aren’t going to see the doctor you can take me back to my cell.”
Taking a step forward, Ellis tried one last time to connect with Booker. “Tom’s in the medical wing,” she advised in a soft voice. “He could really use a friend after what happened to him.”
This time Booker lowered his eyes, unable to meet the correctional officer’s compassionate gaze. “Yeah?” he replied quietly. “Well, he doesn’t need to see me ‘cause we’re not friends, not anymore.”
Sensing that she was beginning to make progress, Mary Ellis took hold of Dennis’ hand. “Have you told him why?” she asked quietly.
Pulling his hand away, Booker shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, not anymore,” he said in an unwavering voice. “Something happened in here that changed me forever and whenever I look at Hanson I see that something reflected in his eyes and it brings back all the memories of how I was made to…” He paused and gave Ellis a small, bitter smile. “You nearly tricked me into telling you,” he said as he wagged his finger at her. “You need to let this go. Hanson and I are through and I’d prefer it if he was moved to another cell.”
Ellis huffed in frustration. “Fine,” she replied in a strained voice. “But you don’t have to worry about Hanson, I’m recommending he be moved into the segregated section for his own safety. You’ll have your cell to yourself.”
For a fraction of a second, Ellis saw a glimmer of sadness in Booker’s eyes but the look vanished as quickly as it had come. “Come on,” she said in a weary voice. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Following the CO silently down the corridor, Booker felt tears burning his eyes and he angrily blinked them away. What was done was done and he needed to accept that Hanson was out of his life forever.
**
Hanson sat on the single bed and watched as the gate to his cell slammed closed. Ellis had arranged to move him to a segregated cell, which was really just another name for solitary confinement. He would eat alone, sleep alone and exercise alone and although he was now safe from Martínez and his gang, he wanted nothing more than to be back in his cell with Booker. He was deeply concerned for his colleague’s state of mind and he feared that if left to his own devices, Dennis would self-destruct, either through drugs or through his own unstable mind. Although he understood why Booker had initially pushed him away after the incident in the locked room, it frustrated him that he had been unable to convey to his friend that what happened had not changed his view of him in any way. He did not think any less of Booker as a man because he had succumbed to Martínez’s instructions to bark like a dog, if anything, it had increased his feelings for the dark haired officer because he had only done it to protect him. He now wished he had thanked him but at the time, the words seemed ineffectual in describing how he was actually feeling. Dennis had probably saved his life that day and a simple thank you seemed completely inadequate, given what had happened. It had been one of his foibles for as long as he could remember. He had never been good at vocalizing his feelings and it was something his ex girlfriends often complained about ad nauseum. Now, more than ever he wished he had learned how to open up and talk about his emotions because if he had, he and Dennis would still be friends.
Lying back on the bed, he stared morosely at the ceiling and contemplated his options. They still had fifteen days until their preliminary hearing and that was a long period of time for Dennis to be constantly snorting heroin. He needed an intervention and the only person Tom could think of that Booker might listen to was Fuller. The only problem was that their commanding officer had not visited Dennis since his incarceration and the young officer understandably now had very anti feelings towards his superior. However, it was the only idea that Tom could come up with apart from contacting Booker’s parents and he did not think that would be appropriate.
Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily. He would speak to Mary Ellis in the morning and organize a phone call to his Captain but until then, all he had was his own imagination to get him through the days and he hoped his nightmares would abandon him and he would find peace within his dreams during the long, lonely nights.
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies