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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
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Six months later
The Hearing Examiner from the Parole Commission sat silently staring at prisoner TZ988. He had asked all the relevant questions and had listened intently as the young, pale faced man in front of him had spoken in a quiet, nervous voice. After several minutes, he made his deliberation. “Tom Hanson, it is my recommendation that your application for parole be granted. You will receive a Notice of Action advising you of the official decision within twenty-one days. Do you understand?”
Tom lifted his head but there was no smile, no demonstration of joy, he just nodded his head in acknowledgment.
As he packed up his paperwork, the Examiner let out a sigh as he watched the CO escort Hanson from the room. He had been in the job long enough to know that prisoner TZ988 was now a broken man. The system had failed him and in all likelihood, he would never fully recover from his experiences on the inside.
Picking up his briefcase, he walked slowly from the interview room. He had another hearing that day and he wondered if that prisoner would wear the same haunted expression that Hanson had or if he was one of the lucky few who had managed to get through their sentence unscathed.
**
Twenty-five days later
Sitting on his bunk clutching a brown paper bag that contained his meager possessions, Tom waited for a CO to escort him to reception to finalize his paperwork. He would then be a free man, whatever that meant. In a physical sense, when he walked out of the gates of the prison his body would be liberated but his mind would never be free of the torture he had endured.
Hearing footsteps, he looked up but his expectation turned to fear when Talbot walked into the cell. Squatting down on the floor next to him, the burly inmate gazed deep into Tom’s eyes. “I’m gonna miss you pretty boy,” he murmured softly and taking the paper bag and throwing it to the floor, he reached out and fondled Tom’s genitals through his jeans. “How about one for the road?”
Gathering up all his inner strength, Tom removed the man’s hand. “No,” he replied in a shaky voice.
Tilting his head on one side, Talbot narrowed his eyes. “Are you sassing me boy?” he asked in a menacing tone. “Because I thought you would have learned by now that you do what I say, when I say it. It’s not too late for me to give you a beating.” With lightening speed, he reached out and grabbing Tom around the throat, he began to squeeze. “Listen to me prag,” he whispered in a low voice. “If I want to fuck you I’ll—”
“That’s enough Talbot,” CO Alex McCafferty warned as he walked into the cell. “Pick up your things Hanson, it’s time to go.”
When Talbot released his hold, Tom rubbed briefly at his neck before standing up. Leaning down, he picked up his belongings and walked over to the open doorway. He wanted to say so much to the man who had tormented him for twelve months but he no longer possessed the strength of mind to do it. Instead, he took one last look at his oppressor before lowering his eyes and walking from the room.
**
When the metal security gate slid open, Tom walked outside into the bright L.A. sunlight and stopped several feet from the entrance. He was standing in a large car park and he suddenly remembered that he had not notified anyone of his release. Not that there was anyone to notify. His mother had moved to Oregon and he had lost contact with his friends. He was completely alone and he had nowhere to live. The sum total of his wealth was the fifty-three dollars and seventy-five cents that he had in his pocket. He had used up all his savings procuring an attorney and his apartment had long since been re-leased. Mary Ellis had given him the addresses of several homeless shelters but the thought of having to live again in close quarters with dozens of men made his skin crawl. He would sleep on a park bench rather than run the risk of another man molesting him.
Gathering his bearings, he started to walk in the direction of the main road. It was then, out of the corner of his eye, that he caught sight of a familiar car. He stopped dead and turning around, he stared in confusion at his blue, 1968 Mustang. His eyes grew wider when the door opened and Doug Penhall stepped out of the car and gave him a lopsided grin.
Twelve months before, Tom’s eyes would have filled with tears at the sight of his friend standing in front of him. However, twelve months was a long time to have suffered daily rapes and countless beatings and he was now devoid of such emotions. Instead, he moved slowly forward and placed the brown paper bag on the trunk of his car. “Hey Doug,” he greeted in a flat voice.
Penhall’s emotions got the better of him and tears filled his soft brown eyes. “Tommy,” he choked and rushing forward, he attempted to pull his friend into a hug. Tom immediately shrank away from the contact and Doug could not hide his hurt expression. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asked in a wounded voice. “I know you didn’t want me visiting but I’m still your friend.”
Feeling a little guilty, Tom managed a forced smile. “Of course you are,” he replied softly. “I’m just a little surprised to see you here.”
Never one to hold onto a grudge with his friends, Penhall grinned happily. “I bet you never expected to see your Mustang again either. I made the payments for you whilst you were… well anyway, you now own it outright. I couldn’t afford to keep paying your rent, so I had to let your apartment go but you can live with me, at least until you’re back on your feet again.”
Hanson knew he should show his appreciation for all that his friend had done but he was just so tired, so utterly defeated that all he could manage was a small nod. Doug’s grin slowly faded and he held out the car keys. “Do you want to drive?” he asked quietly.
Shaking his head, Tom picked up his belongings and climbed into the passenger seat. He hoped Penhall would not try to make idle conversation. After a year confined inside the prison, he felt somewhat uneasy now that he was released, almost agoraphobic. He could feel the beginnings of a panic attack and he began to take in deep, calming breaths. Nurse Collins had taught him several techniques to try to help him reduce his anxiety and he immediately deployed the second part of his therapy, guided imagery. Closing his eyes, he imagined that he was in his old apartment watching television with Booker by his side. He focused on the details; they were watching an old western and two open beer bottles sat on the coffee table in front of them. He could see Dennis’ dark unruly hair and he could even smell him; the scent of soap coupled with the faint hint of leather from the black jacket that he wore constantly. With the image firmly in his mind, his breathing gradually slowed and when the trembling in his body began to subside, he let out a relieved sigh.
Unclenching his fists, he opened his eyes to see Doug sitting in the driver’s seat staring at him. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks and he immediately ducked his head so his long bangs hid his eyes. Penhall continued to stare, bewildered by Tom’s behavior. Clearing his throat, he laid a hand on Tom’s knee but immediately pulled back when Hanson jerked away from his touch. “Jesus Tommy,” he murmured in a worried voice. “Are you okay?”
“Can we go?” Tom replied in a slightly trembling voice. “I just want to leave this place behind me.”
Doug gave Tom a reassuring look. “Sure pal,” he replied hurriedly. “Whatever you want.” Turning the key in the ignition, he drove out of the car park. As they turned onto the highway, he cast another glance at Tom. Hanson sat with his head resting on the back of the seat and he had his eyes closed. His palms lay flat on his thighs but Penhall could see that his hands were trembling. It was a shocking sight to see his friend so tense, especially on a day when he should have been rejoicing. He was free and he once again had a future to look forward to, even if it was not in the police force. Doug could not understand why Tom was acting so morose.
Exiting off the highway, he tried to lighten the mood. “So, are you hungry?” he asked cheerfully. “I bet you’re craving a pizza right about now. Or maybe you’d prefer Chinese? We’ll get whatever you feel like, my shout.”
Sighing heavily, Tom turned his head and looked at Penhall. “Look Doug, I know you’re just trying to be helpful,” he replied in a weary voice. “But I don’t want pizza or Chinese or anything else. I just want to put my head down and go to sleep and not have to be afraid that…” His words trailed off and he turned away and stared out of the window at the houses flashing past. He hoped that Doug would let the matter drop but it was not to be.
“Afraid of what?” Penhall asked in a quiet voice but suddenly the meaning became clear. “Oh God Tom, not again! Don’t tell me you were—”
“Don’t!” Tom interrupted through gritted teeth. “Don’t ask me what happened in there and for fuck’s sake don’t ask me if I’m okay. I’m not going to talk to you about it, not now, not ever. I just want to be left alone. Do you understand? I want to be left the fuck alone.”
Shaken by Tom’s coldness, Penhall nodded. “Okay Tommy, whatever you want,” he replied softly. As he concentrated on the road ahead, he came to the sad realization that Tom Hanson, the man he considered his best friend, no longer existed.
**
Tom lay in Doug’s queen sized bed, listening to the sound of a hockey game that floated up from the floor below. Penhall had insisted that he was happy on the couch and that Tom should have the bed, at least for the first night. Although grateful, Tom was unable to show his appreciation. When he had climbed the steps up to the mezzanine floor, he had found dozens of cardboard boxes littering the small area, all with his name written on the top in Doug’s untidy scrawl. Kneeling down on the floor, he had opened the first one and found his clothes lying in disarray inside. Turning to the second box, he found his photo albums and various other mementos. Doug had obviously cleaned out his apartment and kept all of his belongings for him, knowing that one day, he would need them back.
For the first time since leaving prison, tears had filled his eyes. His possessions felt as unfamiliar to him as his own reflection did when he looked in the mirror. He was a stranger, a nowhere man who did not belong in the life Tom Hanson had built. He was no longer a police officer and since his mother had moved away, he no longer felt like a son. His friends had moved on with their lives and he was not a part of their new adventures. He did not even know if the Jump Street program still existed. Doug would forever remain loyal but the closeness that they once shared was gone, destroyed because of circumstances, or perhaps they had drifted apart because they were never destined to remain friends forever. Maybe there had always been an expiration date on their friendship and his incarceration had just hastened the inevitable.
Staring up at the ceiling, Tom’s thoughts turned to Booker. He had desperately wanted to ask Penhall what he knew about Dennis’ whereabouts but he did not think the timing was right. His and Doug’s relationship was strained and he needed to take the time and learn to relax around his friend before he started quizzing him about a man he knew Doug despised. He was well aware that Doug still blamed Booker and he knew he needed to tread warily. However, he could feel his impatience rising. Booker was the only man who understood what he had been through, the only man who knew what it was like to have your dignity stripped away and know that you allowed it to happen, that you gave up the fight and surrendered. It was a bitter pill to swallow and Tom was finding it increasingly difficult to come to terms with.
Closing his eyes, he sank into the comfort of the soft mattress. Tonight he was safe. Tonight he could sleep without fear of molestation. Tonight he could dream and he hoped those dreams were of a man with dark hair and dark eyes, holding him close and whispering that soon, they would be together.
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies