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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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A soft tap at Tom’s motel door signaled Dennis’ arrival. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, Tom silently counted to ten before climbing off the bed and answering the door. He gave Booker a shy smile and stood back from the doorway. “Come in,” he invited softly.
Dennis gave Tom a tense smile. “I think it would be better if we went out,” he replied quietly. “How about drinks at the bar up the road?”
Tom felt a tightness in his chest and his hands began to tremble. “Go out?” he asked in a shaky voice.
“Sure,” Dennis responded in puzzlement. “Why not?”
As panic consumed his mind, Tom began to chew furiously on his lower lip. This was not what he had expected. He had thought that he and Dennis would spend the night in his motel room, safe from the prying eyes of others and now, the very idea of sitting in a crowded bar unnerved him. As much as he hated being alone, he was more terrified of being around strangers. Feeling Dennis’ dark eyes boring into him, he knew he had to say something and swallowing deeply, he lowered his eyes to the floor. “I can’t,” he replied simply.
A deep frown creased Dennis’ brow. “Can’t or won’t,” he asked without taking his eyes off Tom’s frightened face. “There’s a difference.”
Blood pounded in Tom’s ears as he fought to gain control of his emotions. Closing his eyes, he thought of Lily and he imagined her tranquil voice reassuring him, telling him that everything would be okay. As his heart rate steadied, he opened his eyes and lifted his gaze. “Can’t,” he replied in a sad voice. “I’m sorry Dennis, I wish I could but—”
“But why?” Dennis pushed, not willing to give into Tom too easily. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
Tears of humiliation welled in Tom’s eyes. “Men,” he whispered. “I’m afraid of men.”
Booker’s expression softened and his eyes filled with pity. “Oh Tom,” he murmured softly and stepping forward, he placed his arm around Hanson’s shoulders. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Dropping his gaze, Tom stared glumly at the faded red carpet. “You won’t always be around,” he stated in a flat voice. “Tonight might be our last night together.”
Although his heart was aching, Booker was not about to be emotionally blackmailed. Keeping his voice light, he gave Tom’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe so,” he replied honestly. “But tonight I am here, so there’s nothing to be afraid of is there?”
Tom knew that he was defeated and that if he refused to go out, he risked losing Dennis forever. Taking a deep breath, he managed a small smile. “I guess not,” he muttered softly. He hesitated for a moment before letting out a loud sigh of resignation. “Okay, you win.”
Dennis’ lips parted into a broad smile and reaching out, he affectionately brushed Tom’s hair from his eyes. “I’m really proud of you,” he murmured. “One day at a time, that’s all you have to concentrate on.”
“One day at a time,” Tom echoed quietly but as they left the sanctuary of his motel room, he wondered if tomorrow would be his last day with Dennis.
**
Staring around the crowded bar, Tom concentrated on keeping his breathing under control. His leg jigged nervously as he waited for Booker to return with their drinks. The noise of the patrons in addition to the smell of stale beer and cigarettes overloaded his senses and he began to feel sick. Sweat trickled down his back and his vision started to blur. Grasping the edge of the table with both hands, he closed his eyes and tried not to hyperventilate. As his panic increased, he knew he was on the verge of crying and he felt ashamed and emasculated. Desperate to get away from what he perceived to be a room full of inquisitive eyes, he staggered to his feet and pushed blindly past a hard body standing in his way. When a firm grip grasped his arm, his agitation increased tenfold and turning around, he lashed out with his fist, striking his assailant in the face.
“Tom!” Booker yelled from across the room and forgetting about their drinks, he ran over to their table and pushed away the middle-aged man that was holding onto Tom’s arm. “Leave him alone you son-of-a-bitch!” he yelled angrily.
The man backed away and held one hand up in surrender as his other probed his aching jaw. “Hey pal,” he replied in an uneasy voice. “I was just checking to see if your friend was okay and he went all Bruce Lee on me.”
Placing his arm around Tom’s shoulders, Dennis gave the man a small smile. “Sorry,” he apologized. “He’s agoraphobic.”
The man gave Tom an inquisitive look before turning his gaze back to Booker. “Maybe your friend shouldn’t be out in public places,” he replied unsympathetically.
Guiding Tom back to their table, Dennis threw the man a filthy look. “Maybe ignorant assholes like you shouldn’t be out in public places,” he snapped back.
The man took a step forward but seeing the furious look on Dennis’ face, he changed his mind. “Fucking freak,” he muttered under his breath before turning on his heel and walking away.
Focusing his attention on Tom, Booker pulled his friend into his arms and hugged him close. “Are you okay?” he whispered against Tom’s ear. “Do you want to leave?”
Although he longed to stay in the comforting embrace of Dennis’ arms, Tom gently pulled away and taking a deep breath, he shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Go and get our drinks.”
A look of immense pride shone from Booker’s dark eyes and he gave Tom a broad smile. “That was a huge step,” he praised softly. “I’m really impressed.”
A pink tinge stained Tom’s cheeks and he cast his eyes down at the table. “Impressed because I had a melt down?” he mumbled in embarrassment. “Yeah, that’s really something to be proud of.”
Booker gently tilted Tom’s chin up so that their eyes locked. “No,” he murmured quietly. “Because you didn’t give into it. You faced your fear and you won. That makes you very brave in my eyes.”
Tom’s lip twitched into a half smile. “Now you’re just flirting with me,” he teased, pleased that the mood had lightened.
Grinning like a mischievous schoolboy, Booker gave Tom a wink. “Maybe,” he replied softly but as Tom’s eyes widened in surprise, he quickly turned away and walked back to the bar. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground but it felt good to be with Tom, even if the night had not started out as well as he would have hoped. However, as he carried their drinks back to their table, he anticipated that things could only get better.
**
As happy hour ended, the bar crowd started to thin and Tom and Dennis found themselves in a quiet nook with only a few patrons for company. Since sitting down, they had barely spoken a word and Dennis began to wonder if the harbinger of doom had already sealed their fate. He did not know if their silence indicated that there was nothing left to say or that it meant that there was too much left to say.
However, just as he was about suggest that they call it a night, Tom raised his eyes from the table. “How did you do it?” he asked softly.
Booker’s brow knitted in puzzlement. “Do what?” he asked.
Pushing away his half-empty glass of beer, Tom sighed heavily. “Turn your life around,” he replied quietly. “The last time I saw you in jail you were…” His voice trailed off and lowering his eyes, he left the painful words unspoken. The last time he had seen Booker in jail he was high on heroin and happily playing at being Carlos Martínez’s bitch.
Dennis’ dark eyes filled with anguish at the memory. Picking up a cardboard beer coaster, he began to pick nervously at its soggy edges. “My parents, they um, sent me to a private facility,” he responded in a flat voice. “I received therapy to help me through my drug withdrawal and I saw a psychologist who helped me come to terms with what happened to me.”
Lifting his gaze, Tom gave Dennis a penetrating stare. “And have you come to terms with it?” he asked bluntly.
Booker’s agitation became clear as he began to rip up the coaster. “I thought I had,” he replied tersely. “But then you came back.”
The stinging tone in Booker’s voice caused a physical pain in Tom’s heart. Standing up, he gave his friend a sad smile. “You were right,” he muttered miserably. “This is never going to work. We keep going round and round but we always end up back in the same place. I don’t want to hurt you anymore Dennis so I’m going to make this easy on you. All I ask is that you drive me to Doug’s and then you won’t ever have to hear from me again.”
Tossing the destroyed coaster across the table, Booker gazed deep into Tom’s eyes. “Is that really what you want?” he asked.
Shaking his head, Tom’s eyes filled with tears. “No, it’s not what I want Dennis,” he replied softly. “But it’s what you want so I’m not going to argue.”
Raking his fingers through his hair, Dennis slouched back in his seat and sighed heavily. “I don’t know what I want,” he stated truthfully. “Jesus Tommy, I’ve never in my life felt more confused than how I feel when I’m with you.”
Sitting back down, Tom gave Booker an uneasy smile. “I know what you mean,” he stated in a quiet voice. “But before you make up your mind, I want to tell you what happened to me in prison.”
Booker looked uncertain. “Tom,” he replied softly. “Are you sure you want to drag up all those memories?”
A sad smile played over Tom’s lips. “I have to,” he murmured in a barely audible voice. “I need to start healing.”
Understanding filled Dennis’ eyes. “Okay,” he muttered. “But not here. Let’s go back to your room.”
Equal parts of relief and fear coursed through Tom’s body. He was about to divulge his nightmare to the man he had fallen in love with and when he was through, he would know for sure if their relationship could be salvaged.
**
When Tom finally finished speaking, Dennis rubbed a trembling hand over his face. Hearing Tom talk about the horrors he had endured had reawakened long buried memories of his own sexual abuses. Tears had filled his eyes when his friend described the fear he had felt when Matheson told him he was to be Martínez’s cellmate. The tears spilled over when Tom spoke about the gang rape he had endured on his second night in gen pop. However, what had haunted him the most was how Talbot had claimed Tom as his own and had systematically beaten him down until he was accepting of the horrific abuse. He had experienced that feeling with Martínez and he knew how emasculating it was to realize that another human being could so easily control you.
Tom’s hollow voice eventually pulled Booker from his thoughts. “So now you know why I am the way I am,” Hanson muttered despondently. “I endured twelve months of rape, torture and emotional abuse. I know I need help, I’m not stupid, but I need to do it in my own time, in my own way. But if you don’t think you can be there to help me through all this bullshit, then tell me now because I’m tired Dennis, I’m so fucking tired of being alone and I need someone by my side that I can trust to stand by me, even when I’m at my worst.”
It was the ultimatum that Booker knew was coming and yet he felt completely and utterly unprepared. He honestly did not know if he could be the person to help Tom through his transition, even though he himself had been through the same trauma. His life was in order; he had a good job, new friends and he was happy, happier than he had been in years. On the other hand, Tom represented chaos; he was an emotionally broken man who was in need of extensive therapy and even then, there was no guarantee that he would ever recover from the abuses he had suffered. If he agreed to help Tom, he was not only gambling with his own life and happiness, he was also gambling on Tom’s and he was not sure if he was prepared to do that.
Tom’s dark, tortured eyes gazed at him expectantly and he knew there was no escape. He could not procrastinate any longer; he needed to make a decision so that Tom could begin to travel towards the bright light of hope instead of forever flailing in the veiled darkness of his nightmares.
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies