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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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Standing outside of Booker’s apartment building, Tom chewed nervously on his lower lip. Now that he was finally there, he began to feel apprehensive about seeing Booker again. From the information that Doug had given him, it appeared that Dennis had managed to get his life back on track and Tom worried that turning up unannounced on his doorstep might cause his friend unnecessary heartache. The last thing he wanted was to bring to the surface any unwanted memories that Booker might have buried deep within his psyche. He was not there to cause his friend any pain; he was there to try to rekindle their friendship.
Taking a deep, calming breath, he walked into the building and up the wide staircase to the second floor. Checking the number on the crumbled piece of paper in his hand, he walked down the long corridor and stopped outside of apartment 216. A tight knot had formed in the pit of his stomach and he could feel the beginnings of a panic attack coursing through his body as he started to perspire and his hands trembled uncontrollably. Closing his eyes, he counted slowly to ten and attempted to control his labored breathing. It would be so easy to turn around and walk away but he knew that if he did, he would live with the regret for the rest of his life.
Without allowing himself anymore time to overthink the situation, he lifted his hand and rapped his knuckles on the door. He rubbed at the sweat that had beaded on his upper lip and waited nervously. A long, interminable minute passed and just as he was about to walk away, the door flew open.
The first thing Tom noticed was that Booker was dressed in his blue prison guard uniform and the second thing he noticed was how beautiful he looked. His dark hair was shorter than Tom remembered and his body more defined. However, what had not changed was his dark, almost black eyes that widened in shock when he saw who was standing on his doorstep.
Tom’s lip twitched into an uneasy smile and he cleared his throat nervously. “Hey Dennis,” he murmured quietly.
Booker stared at Hanson as though he had seen a ghost. “Tommy?” he whispered disbelievingly. “Jesus Christ.”
An uncomfortable silence hung heavily in the air and Tom rubbed a trembling hand over his mouth before speaking in a quavering voice. “I know I should have rung or something,” he mumbled. “But I—”
“That’s okay,” Dennis interrupted and stepping back from the door, he managed a forced smile. “Come in.”
The welcome was not how Tom imagined it would be. Dennis seemed aloof, almost wary and as he entered the messy apartment, he began to regret his decision to come to Nevada. He had remained stuck in the past, clutching to memories that had faded over time for those who had moved on. Too much time had passed and the emotions he had clung to during his long internment were obviously no longer as fresh in Booker’s mind and he wondered if his friend had even thought about him during the twelve months they had been apart.
Profound embarrassment crippled him and hot tears burned at his eyes. Turning away, he stumbled blindly towards the open door but strong hands pulled him back and he found himself embraced against Booker’s muscular body. “Oh baby,” Booker choked and he squeezed Tom tightly against him as though he never wanted to let him go. “I’m so sorry I left you, I’m so fucking sorry I left you!”
The tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled from Tom’s eyes and he hugged his friend tightly as he sobbed with a mixture of pain and relief. Minutes passed before Booker gently disengaged himself and wiped away Tom’s tears with his thumb. “Oh Jesus Tommy,” he whispered as he gazed into Tom’s haunted eyes. “What have they done to you?”
Fresh tears filled Tom’s eyes and he shrugged his shoulders. “You know what it’s like,” he mumbled and walking over to the large window, he stood and stared out at the traffic below. “Every night he strips away another piece of your soul until there’s nothing left and you no longer care what he does to you.”
“Oh my God,” Booker gasped in shock. “Every night? You were raped every night?”
“Yeah,” Tom replied candidly. It was the first time he had spoken about the rapes and although it was difficult to keep his emotions in check, he knew that Booker understood completely how he felt. It was a bond they shared and they would continue to share it for the rest of their lives.
A gentle hand caressed his shoulder and turning around, he rested his head against Booker’s chest and closing his eyes, he took comfort from the sensation of fingers playing with his hair. “God I’ve missed you,” he breathed. “I’ve yearned for this day, for twelve long months.”
As soon as the words tumbled from his lips, the contact was lost when Booker stepped away. “Tom,” Dennis muttered uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you expect from me but it’s been a long time and—”
“You’ve moved on?” Tom shot back angrily. Pushing past Dennis, he began to pace the room in agitation. “Well lucky you! But guess what? I can’t move on! When I close my eyes, I see every one of those bastards that raped me. I can still feel them lying on top of me. Hell! I can still smell them, the stench of their breath and the foul scent of their semen! My mind is completely fucked up, my spirit is broken but through it all, I thought I still had you! Thoughts of you were the only thing that kept me going; they were what prevented me from picking up a razor blade and slicing it across my wrists. But hey, it’s all good ‘cause you’ve moved on. Well fuck you! FUCK YOU, YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!”
Booker looked on in horror as Tom began to scream hysterically as he picked of pieces of furniture and threw them across the room. Frightened that he might hurt himself, Dennis ran forward and wrestled him to the ground.
“NO! NO! NO!” Tom yelled and he struggled to break free from Booker’s hold. “GET OFF ME! GET OFF ME!”
Raising his hand, Booker slapped Tom across the face. The stinging blow had the desired effect and Tom stopped struggling. Lying panting on the floor, he gazed up at Booker with eyes filled with confusion. “Help me,” he whispered. “Oh God Dennis, please help me.”
Climbing off Tom’s prone body, Booker sat on the floor and pulled Tom into his arms. “Of course I’ll help you Tommy,” he murmured tenderly. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”
Relaxing into Dennis’ strong arms Tom closed his eyes and sighed softly. For the first time in over twelve months, he no longer felt afraid to fall asleep. However, his slumber was short lived when he heard Booker’s voice whispering in his ear. “Tommy, you need to wake up, I have a shift at the prison.”
Opening his eyes, Hanson sat up and rubbed awkwardly at his upper lip. “Sorry,” he muttered as he scrambled to his feet. “I’ll go.”
Standing up, Booker draped an arm around Tom’s shoulders and led him over to the couch. “I’m not asking you to leave,” he said with a smile. “You’re more than welcome to stay but I have to go to work. Have you eaten?”
Tom shook his head. He could not actually remember his last meal but he figured it must have been at Penhall’s apartment. Reaching into his pocket, Booker pulled out several notes and handed them to Tom. “Order yourself a pizza,” he instructed with a smile. “The number’s on the refrigerator. If you feel tired, you can sleep in my bed, I’ll be home in the morning.”
Studying Booker’s blue uniform, Tom gave his friend a quizzical look. “How can you stand working there?” he asked quietly. “After everything that happened to you, why would you want to do it?”
Booker raked his fingers through his hair and looked somewhat uncomfortable. “No one should have gone through what we went through Tommy,” he replied quietly. “I want to protect the vulnerable prisoners from the predators. So I guess if I can prevent one inmate from going through what we did then it makes the job worthwhile.”
Tom nodded his head but his expression remained uncertain. “I get it,” he murmured softly. “But I still don’t know how you do it. I can’t even sleep at night without waking up screaming.”
Sitting down next to Tom, Dennis stared at him intently. “Are you taking any medication?” he asked directly. “Antidepressants or sleeping tablets? ‘Cause you know, they could really help you.”
Lowering his eyes, Tom shook his head. “I was, but I stopped,” he confessed.
Reaching out, Booker brushed Tom’s long bangs from his eyes. “Maybe that wasn’t the best idea,” he counseled quietly. “I think you should talk to a doctor about it.”
The memory of his breakdown and his brief stay in hospital made Tom blush and he shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “Maybe,” he replied quietly, not wanting to admit that he had lied to Doctor Farmer by telling him he was still taking his meds. It worried him how compliant he became when he was medicated and now that he was a free man, he wanted to remain alert so that no one could take advantage of him again.
Sighing quietly, Booker stood up. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here on your own?” he asked, the memory of Tom talking about slashing his wrists still fresh in his mind.
Although Tom did not want Booker to leave, he gave a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine,” he answered before giving Dennis a sheepish look. “Plus, it’ll give me a chance to clean up the mess I made. I really am sorry about that.”
Booker looked around at the broken pieces of furniture that littered his apartment. “Yeah well,” he replied cheekily. “I never was one for housework so feel free to vacuum if you want.”
A genuine smile spread over Tom’s face and he let out a small laugh. “In your dreams,” he answered back and for a fraction of a moment, the tension in the room disappeared and they were just two friends teasing each other.
Although uneasy at leaving Tom alone, Booker left the apartment. As he walked to his car, he could not help but worry about what the future held now that Tom had shown up on his doorstep. His life was the best it had ever been and if he was honest with himself, he really did not know if he wanted Tom to be a part of it. Through extensive counseling, he had put all the horrors of the past year behind him as well as kicking his heroin habit. Now, the man who had shared every moment of his pain was sitting in his apartment and he felt the scabs slowly lifting off his healed wounds. Although he still had strong feelings for Tom, he did not want to remember his time in jail and he certainly did not want to talk about it again, not even with the only man who could fully understand his pain.
Climbing into his Cadillac, he rested his head against the wheel and let out a long sigh. Whatever decision he made, he knew he would need to tread carefully. Tom was a ticking time bomb and one wrong word was likely to push him over the edge and send him spiraling towards a path of self-destruction. It was obvious that Tom believed that he had all the answers to his problems. However, the trouble with that theory was that Booker was not so sure that he did. Although he had promised to help Tom in any way he could, in reality, he was terrified that spending time with his ex lover would only make his mental state worse.
**
Crawling under the covers, Tom laid his head on Booker’s pillow and breathed in the musky scent. It was still early but he was exhausted. Closing his eyes, he listened to the soft ticking of the alarm clock that sat on the bedside cabinet next to him. He did not want to fall asleep, as he was terrified of the nightmares that plagued his unconscious mind. Instead, he kept his mind alert by thinking back over his conversation with Booker. He knew he had behaved appallingly but since coming off his medication, he was prone to outbursts that he was unable to control. It was not how he had planned his reunion with Booker but as his grandma often said, what’s done is done and he could not change it even if he wanted to. He had managed to fix the broken coffee table but the table lamp was beyond repair. Letting his mind wander, he imagined Dennis’ arms wrapped around him and he felt himself relax. His stomach flip-flopped at the memory of Booker’s fingers gently caressing his hair and he sighed contentedly. He longed for his friend to return so he could once again feel his gentle touch against his skin.
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies