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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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Opening his bedroom door, Booker smiled at the image of Tom lying in a tangle of sheets. He had a flash of déjà vu and he sighed at the memory. Judging by the messed up bed, Hanson had not slept well but for the moment, he looked peaceful so Dennis decided to leave him be. He turned away but stopped when he heard Tom’s sleepy voice whisper, “Don’t go.”
A shiver ran down Booker’s spine and turning back, he walked over to the bed and sat down. Reaching out, he gently brushed Tom’s hair from his eyes. “You should go back to sleep,” he murmured as his fingers continued to play with Tom’s hair. “It’s still early.”
Hanson shook his head. “Too many nightmares,” he muttered. “Sleeping exhausts me more than staying awake.”
“Scoot over,” Booker instructed softly before he had time to think what implication his words might have.
Tom shuffled across the bed and Dennis lay down next to him. He hesitated for a moment before pulling Hanson into his arms so his head lay on his chest. “Close your eyes,” he whispered as he ran his fingers through Tom’s tousled hair. “I’m right here and no one can hurt you.”
Sighing contentedly, Tom allowed himself to relax against Booker’s soothing touch and his eyelids grew heavy before fluttering closed. He found the steady rhythm of his friend’s heartbeat comforting and gradually, his breathing slowed and he fell into an exhausted sleep.
**
Awaking from a light doze, Booker felt Tom’s body twitching in his arms. Looking down, he frowned when he saw the distressed expression on Tom’s sleeping face. Understanding the need to be gentle, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Tom’s ear. “Come back to me baby,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay, I’m here.”
Tom’s eyes slowly opened and the tension in his face immediately relaxed when he saw Booker gazing down at him. “Hey,” he breathed, the relief evident on his face. “Did I wake you?”
Booker shook his head. “I was only dozing,” he replied and as he studied Tom’s tired face, his expression became concerned. “You really need to speak to someone about these nightmares. You can’t continue to live like this.”
Rolling onto his back, Tom let out a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. “What you really mean is that I’m crazy and I need to see a shrink,” he muttered in a wounded voice.
Propping himself up on his elbow, Booker’s hand once again found Tom’s hair and as he ran the long strands through his fingers, he smiled tenderly. “No one said you were crazy,” he replied softly. “Don’t forget, I know exactly what you’re going through and speaking to a therapist really helped me. I doubt I’d be where I am today if I hadn’t sought help.”
Turning onto his side, Tom mirrored Booker’s position as his eyes searched his friend’s face. “What if I just talked to you?” he asked quietly. “I’d feel more comfortable doing that.”
Booker’s face hardened and sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he replied firmly.
A soft pout formed on Tom’s lips. “Why not?” he asked, the hurt he felt evident in his tone. “I thought you said you’d do anything to help me, so I’m asking you to help me.”
“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO!” Dennis yelled back and raking his fingers through his hair, he began to pace the room. “Jesus Christ Hanson, don’t you get it? I don’t want to relive those memories with you! I’ll do anything I can to help you but don’t fuck up my life by asking me to experience those feelings again!”
Tears filled Tom’s eyes and he climbed slowly from the bed. “Sorry,” he muttered as he pulled on his boots. “I didn’t mean to fuck up your life. I thought you were my friend, I thought there was something between us, but I guess I was wrong. My mistake, I’ll leave you in peace.”
Grabbing hold of Hanson’s arm, Booker tried to reason with him. “Tom wait. I—”
Hanson pulled free of Dennis’ hold and pushing roughly past him, he strode towards the front door. “Save your breath,” he muttered. “You’ve made your position perfectly clear. Have a nice life.” Opening the door, he paused for a fraction of a second before exiting the apartment and slamming the door behind him.
Booker stood in the middle of the living room staring at the closed door. He had no idea how the situation had escalated so quickly when he was only being honest. When he first moved to Nevada, he spent six months in therapy so he could rebuild his life and put the horrors of the rapes behind him. It was during that time that he had made the decision to become a correctional officer. He knew he was no longer welcome at the Chapel and he had no idea what he would do for a career. Then one day, as he sat in his therapist’s office talking about how the guards turned a blind eye to the daily rapes and beatings, he had an epiphany. He could make a difference; he could be that one guard that the inmates turned to for help. It was then that he knew he had found his true calling and the next day, he enrolled in the training program. Now, six months later he was the happiest he had ever been. Every day he made a difference in at least one inmate’s life and he found the job extremely fulfilling.
Sitting down on the couch, he held his head in his hands as Tom’s words echoed in his mind, “I thought you were my friend, I thought there was something between us…” and a single tear trickled down his cheek. From the first day he had met Tom, he had wanted him in his life and for the briefest of moments, he had attained his wish. However, the brutality of life in jail had ultimately torn them apart and he had mourned the loss of the man he loved. Now, after a year of loneliness, he had a second chance, an opportunity to have Tom back in his life. But Tom was no longer the man he had once been, the man Booker had fallen in love with. His haunted expression bore the evidence of his sexual abuse, his once twinkling eyes were now lifeless and his ever-present smile was a distant memory. However, what frightened Booker the most was the violent, uncontrollable rage that had consumed Tom the night before. Hanson was obviously sitting on the edge of a metaphorical precipice and one false move would send him free falling towards certain psychosis.
Groaning loudly, Booker lifted his head and rested it against the back of the couch. All the warning signs were there; stay away and do not get involved. However, he had never been one to follow convention and he knew he could not just walk away now that Tom had reached out to him. Tom needed him and if he was honest with himself, he needed Tom just as much.
**
Standing outside of his motel room, Tom patted his pockets in search of his key. He swore loudly when he realized that he had left his jacket back at Booker’s apartment. It was barely six in the morning but the light was on at the motel’s reception, so he walked over and asked for the spare key. Letting himself into his room, he kicked off his boots and lay down on the bed. There was no reason for him to stay in Nevada now that Booker had made his intentions clear. He made the decision to book his ticket and return to Los Angeles so that he could start to think about what options he had now that he was a free man. Although he had no idea what those choices might be, he knew that if he did not at least try to find happiness, he would reach the point where he no longer cared enough to continue living.
Switching on the television, he closed his eyes and listened to the drone of the newsreader’s voice delivering the doom and gloom of the world’s affairs. Although tired, he concentrated on the man’s voice so that he would not fall asleep. Sleeping meant nightmares and the nightmares only increased his depression.
A loud rap at his door pulled him from his thoughts and sitting up, he rubbed a weary hand over his face. No one except Penhall knew where he was staying and he suddenly felt a twinge of fear. Getting to his feet, he walked slowly to the door. “Who is it?” he asked in a loud, trembling voice.
“Tommy it’s me,” Booker’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. “Please let me in.”
Relief flooded Tom’s body and turning the key, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. Booker stood outside with Tom’s jacket in his arms. “How did you find me?” Hanson asked as he stepped back from the doorway and allowed Booker to enter.
Dennis smiled. “Once a cop, always a cop,” he joked quietly. “Your room key was in your pocket and it had the name of the motel printed on it.”
“Oh,” Tom replied softly and taking his coat from Booker, he threw it onto the bed. “Well thanks for returning it.”
Stepping forward, Dennis laid a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “That’s not why I came,” he murmured softly. “I came because I wanted to apologize and because I wanted to tell you that I still love you and I want to help you.”
Tom’s dark eyes widened in disbelief. “You still love me?” he whispered.
Leaning forward, Booker pressed his lips against Tom’s forehead. “Yes,” he breathed. “I love you Tommy Hanson and I want to help you get well.”
Although they were the words Tom had longed to hear, he stepped back and studied Booker’s face. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly. “I’m a nutcase Dennis and I don’t want to be the reason you fuck up your life.”
The pain of hearing Tom utter those words penetrated Booker’s soul and he pulled his friend into a tight embrace. “I don’t know why I said that,” he replied remorsefully. “You could never fuck up my life, you are my life.”
Gazing into Booker’s eyes, Tom’s lip twitched into a half smile. “You must be crazier than me,” he laughed quietly before his expression once again became serious. “You said you loved me. Does that mean you want a relationship?”
Booker’s eyes softened, and he gently brushed Tom’s hair from his face. “Do you want a relationship?” he asked, being careful to keep the longing out of his eyes.
Chewing nervously on his lower lip, Tom hesitated for a moment before nodding his head. “I do,” he confessed quietly before lowering his eyes and blushing with humiliation. “But Dennis, I don’t know how much I can give you. Since I came out of prison, I can’t… well… I can’t get aroused.”
Pulling Tom close, Booker murmured into his hair. “It doesn’t matter Tommy. We’ll take one day at a time, okay?”
Tears filled Tom’s eyes and clung to his long lashes. “Okay,” he whispered and for the first time in over a year he felt that maybe, everything would be all right.
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies