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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.

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Monday morning
The sound of his own screaming pulled Tom from his nightmare and he sat up gasping, his naked body drenched in perspiration. His breath hitched in his throat as his body trembled violently and tears coursed down his cheeks. Pulling his legs up, he wrapped his arms protectively around his knees and sobbed uncontrollably. He felt lost and he did not know whom to turn to for help. Even though Penhall was his best friend, he felt too ashamed to confide in him about the rape. He could picture Doug’s horrified expression and he knew that if he told him, his friend would never view him through the same eyes again. Captain Fuller was the obvious answer but once again, Tom could not bear the thought of his superior knowing his secret shame. Also, if he told Fuller, the Captain would have to make a report and then it would be on his file for all to see.
As his breathing slowly calmed, Tom wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand. It did not really matter if he divulged his secret or not, either way, he would still feel violated, his body forever desecrated and he knew he would never be the same Tom Hanson he had been two days ago. Nothing could change the way he felt about himself now, how he loathed his body, how he no longer wanted to be touched or even looked at. However, most of all he hated himself. He should never have gone with the man without taking the proper precautions first. The rape was his fault and he would have to live with that knowledge forever.
Glancing at the clock, he swiped angrily at his tears and climbed out of bed. He walked into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee before heading into the bathroom. After relieving his bladder, he adjusted the faucets in the shower so the temperature was as hot as he could bear and stepping into the cubicle, he closed the curtain around him. He gritted his teeth as the scalding water washed away the invisible sins that coated his entire body, making him feel dirty and disgusting. Picking up the soap, he scrubbed himself repeatedly until his skin started to wrinkle under the constant pressure of the hot water. After washing his sweat soaked hair, he turned off the faucets and stepped out of the shower. He rubbed himself dry and brushed his teeth but as he stood at the hand basin, he ignored his reflection in the mirror. His appearance sickened him to the core and he knew if he caught a glimpse of himself, he would probably slam his fist into the glass when he saw the ghostly apparition staring back at him.
Walking into the bedroom, he dressed in a white t-shirt, jeans and boots. He grabbed a jacket out of his closet and pulled it on, not wanting too much of his body to be on show. Raking his fingers through his hair, he entered the kitchen and poured himself a cup of sweet, black coffee. He had not eaten anything since the day of the rape but he knew if he did eat, his stomach would reject it. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he sipped at his coffee and tried to ignore the tremors in his hands. He knew the coffee was not helping but he needed something warm in his belly. Draining the last mouthful from his cup, Tom swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he put down the cup and held his hands out in front of him, willing them to stop shaking. However, no matter how hard he tried, his hands continued to quiver. He decided that his best option was to keep his hands in his pockets and hope that nobody noticed.
Picking up his car keys, he exited his apartment. He took the stairs rather than the elevator, unconsciously delaying the inevitable. As he walked outside, he stopped abruptly and stared with disbelief at the vision of Booker lying across the hood of his car, casually smoking a cigarette. Panic set in and he clenched his hands into tight fists as he fought to get his emotions under control. Striding over to Booker’s Cadillac, he stared angrily down at his nemesis. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Blowing a cloud of smoke in the air, Dennis smiled infuriatingly. “I told you, I think we need to talk. Now either you come clean with me or I’m going to Fuller with my suspicions.”
Tom rubbed his fingers nervously over his upper lip. “And what exactly are your suspicions Booker?” he asked quietly, trying desperately to keep his voice from quavering. “Tell me what theory you’ve yanked out of your—” The word ass was on the tip of his tongue but this time his voice did falter. Clamping a hand over his mouth, his eyes grew wide and tears of distress and humiliation filled his dark orbs. Choking back a sob, he turned and stumbled away but within moments, two strong, muscular arms wrapped him in a tight embrace. He fought to pull away, punching ineffectively at Booker’s broad chest before finally collapsing into his arms as he wept uncontrollably.
Dennis’ hand gently caressed Tom’s tousled hair as he held him close. He remained silent, offering comfort through touch only. After several minutes, Hanson wriggled free of Booker’s hold and wiping at his tear stained face, he stared silently at the ground.
Stepping forward, Dennis placed a hand on Tom’s arm. “Hanson, you need to speak to Fuller about this,” he encouraged in a soft, reassuring voice.
Tom jerked away from Booker’s touch and his eyes flashed crazily. “YOU STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!” he screamed. “IF YOU SAY ANYTHING TO ANYONE ABOUT THIS, I SWEAR TO GOD, I’LL KILL YOU!
“Tom—” Booker started but Hanson turned quickly away and getting into his car, he slammed the door closed, cutting off the sound of Dennis voice. Seconds later, he sped from his parking space, his tires squealing in his wake.
Booker stood watching the blue Mustang disappear down the street. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. It was obvious that Tom had suffered some sort of trauma at the hands of the man and if so, he needed to seek professional help. The word rape kept echoing around Dennis’ mind and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of the man violating Tom in such a way.
With a sigh of frustration, he climbed into his car. He needed to make a decision and he needed to make it fast. It was obvious that Hanson was on the brink of a breakdown and that made him dangerous to work with. As a police officer, one counted on their partner to be rational and clear headed, especially during a time of emergency. Tom’s unstable mind could put others in jeopardy and Booker knew he could not live with himself if he allowed that to happen.
Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled away from the curb and drove towards the Chapel.
**
Captain Fuller stood in his office doorway, a slight frown creasing his dark brow. His gaze remained fixed on Hanson, who was sitting at his desk staring blankly in front of him. Fuller thought Hanson looked unwell and he wondered if he should send him home, at least for a few days. The missing runaways’ case had taken its toll on all the young officers but Tom seemed the most affected. Adam understood that Hanson felt guilty because he had not apprehended the suspect but to the senior officer, there seemed to be more to it than that. Tom’s behavior was far more subdued than usual and Fuller knew that on the force, mental fitness was as important as physical fitness.
Making his decision, he stepped out of his office. “Hanson!” he yelled across the crowded room. “My office, now!”
Tom lifted his head and gazed around the room in a daze. Penhall sauntered over and sat down on his desk. “You’d better get moving buddy or Coach’ll have your balls,” he joked, hoping to get Tom to smile.
Instead, Tom ignored the remark and standing up, he walked slowly into Fuller’s office. “You wanted to see me Cap'n?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Sit down Hanson,” Fuller instructed. Tom did as his Captain asked. Adam stood up and closed his office door before taking a seat behind his desk and giving Tom a penetrating stare. “Is there something wrong Hanson?” he asked bluntly, never one to beat around the bush.
“No Cap’n,” Tom muttered, his eyes averting Fuller’s inquisitive stare. “Why do you ask?”
Leaning back in his leather chair, Fuller tented his fingers in front of his face and continued to stare at Tom’s pale face. “You don’t look well Tom,” he stated softly.
Rubbing his fingers furiously over his top lip, Hanson managed a half smile. “Yeah, I guess I’ve had some trouble sleeping. But don’t worry Coach, I’m fine, honest.”
Fuller narrowed his eyes for a moment and studied Tom’s weary face before making his determination. “I want you to take a couple of days off,” he commanded in a no nonsense voice. Seeing that Tom was about to protest, he held up his hand to cut him off. “And that’s an order.”
Sighing heavily, Tom’s lip protruded into a pout. “Is that all?” he asked moodily.
Fuller stood up and handed Hanson a piece of paper. “You need to get a new gun assigned,” he replied in a businesslike tone. “Here’s the paperwork.”
Taking the form out of his superior’s hand, Tom stood up. “Thanks Cap’n,” he muttered and turning away, he walked out of the room.
Booker sat cross-legged on his desk chewing a piece of gum. He watched with interest as Tom walked out of Fuller’s office and back to his desk, where Penhall was still sitting. It was obvious that Hanson was not happy and Dennis wondered what their Captain had said behind closed doors.
When Tom arrived at his desk, Penhall nodded in the direction of Booker. He had noticed Dennis’ acute interest in Tom since they had started back at the Chapel after their last case and he was curious as to what it all meant. “What’s up with Booker?” he asked. “He’s been staring at you funny all day.”
Tom shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows,” he muttered. “It’s Booker; the guy’s a fucking nutcase.”
Penhall let the comment pass. He actually did not mind Booker but because of Hanson’s immense dislike of their colleague, he kept his distance. Neither Judy nor Harry gave Booker much of their time either as they found the dark haired officer arrogant and opinionated. Penhall often wondered why Dennis did not make more of an effort to fit in but he had decided long ago that it was none of his business and Booker could do what he liked.
Changing the subject, Doug picked up the form that Tom had put down on his desk. “So, is that all Fuller wanted?” he asked, waving the piece of paper at Hanson. “To give you this so you can get issued with another gun?”
Tom was not in the mood for an interrogation from Penhall. He tried to keep the irritation off his face but he knew he had failed miserably when he saw Doug raise an eyebrow. “I’m taking some leave,” he replied stiffly. “Is that okay with you?”
Hanson’s voice was dripping with sarcasm and Penhall immediately saw red. “Geez!” he exclaimed crossly as he slammed the piece of paper back on top of Tom’s desk. “No need to get all worked up Hanson. I was only asking.”
Tom started to apologize but Penhall turned his back and walked away. He felt the ever-present tears stinging his eyes and picking up the paperwork, he walked quickly across the room, terrified that the tears would begin to flow. As he passed Booker’s desk, he felt dark eyes boring into him. Spinning on his heel, he jabbed his finger into Dennis’ chest. “You need to back off!” he hissed, his misty eyes flashing dangerously.
Booker’s face remained impassive but his words were direct and to the point. “I can’t do that Tommy,” he replied softly
“SCREW YOU!” Tom yelled. Several heads turned and looked in their direction but Tom did not stick around to answer their accusatory stares. He gave Booker one last hate filled look before storming out of the Chapel.
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies