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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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Slamming his apartment door closed, Hanson tossed his keys into the metal bowl on top of his bookcase. He had left the Chapel and gone straight to the police weaponry department and he was now in possession of a 9mm Glock. It suddenly occurred to him that the man knew his name and if he wanted to find him, he could easily look him up in the telephone directory. The thought caused his heart to race erratically and perspiration dotted his forehead. Sitting down on the couch, he pulled the gun out of its holster and held it in his hand, the weight of the metal instantly making him feel safer and less vulnerable. If the man crossed his threshold now, he would kill him without a moment’s hesitation. He was ready and this time he would defend himself or die trying.
A dull throbbing in his temples told him that he really needed to eat something. However, the thought of food still made him feel nauseous so he decided to drink instead. He was on two days forced leave so there was no reason why he could not get blind drunk and forget everything that had happened to him, at least for a short time. Putting the gun on the table, he walked into the kitchen and bending down, he opened a cupboard door and pulled out an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels. Grabbing a glass, he sat back down on the couch and poured himself a stiff measure. Taking a large gulp, he grimaced slightly as the spirit burned his throat. Refilling his glass, he picked up the gun and held it in his hand whilst sipping at his drink. The Glock was now his best friend, the only protection he had against the silent fear that terrorized his mind.
After his fifth glass, Tom’s demeanor slowly began to change. Instead of having the desired relaxing effect, the alcohol was making him depressed and overemotional. Tears slid down his cheeks and as he stared at the gun in his hand, thoughts of suicide entered his mind. Lifting the Glock, he pointed it at his face and stared down the barrel. It would be so easy to pull the trigger and then all his pain would be gone. Flicking off the safety, he gripped the gun tighter and placed the muzzle under his chin. His eyes screwed shut and his hand began to tremble. Placing his finger on the trigger, he tried to steady his hand but he was shaking uncontrollably. Hot tears leaked from his eyes and he started to sob. As his finger squeezed against the trigger, he had a moment of clarity and in his mind, he saw his mother standing at his graveside, crying inconsolably.
With a distressed cry, he threw the gun onto the couch and burying his face in his hands, he completely broke down, sobbing hysterically. That he had come so close to ending his own life terrified him and it was then that he knew he needed help. He picked up the phone and started to dial Penhall’s number when he heard a loud banging on his door. The phone immediately dropped from his fingers and he quickly replaced it with the gun. Pointing the Glock at the door, he was certain that the man was standing outside waiting to terrorize him. Standing up, he crept forward until he was only inches from the door. He remained silent, waiting for the man to try to break in and then he would do what he had to do; he would shoot the son-of-a-bitch dead.
Tom’s fantasy exploded when he heard Booker’s voice calling out from the hallway. “Open the door Hanson; I know you’re in there!” Dennis yelled as his fist continued its onslaught on the wooden paneling.
Without lowering the gun, Tom wiped the sweat from his upper lip. “Go away!” he shouted. “Why won’t you leave me alone? Just FUCK OFF!"
The banging immediately stopped and when Booker spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle. “Please Tommy, open the door, I’m really worried about you.”
Swiping at the tears on his face, Tom found himself wavering. He was rational enough now to know that he needed help. It was frightening how easy it had been to put a gun under his chin and contemplate suicide. Booker was the last person he would have ever thought of turning to for assistance but he was desperate. He needed someone to take his gun so that the temptation to end it all was no longer there. If he did not act now, there was a very strong likelihood that the next time he broke down he would put a bullet in his skull.
Dropping his hand, he felt all the fight leave his body. He stepped forward, unlocked the door and turned towards the couch. Sitting down, he held his head in his hands; his fingers still gripping the handle of the Glock. He heard Booker enter and then a soft voice spoke to him. “Give me the gun Tommy.”
Looking up through tear-filled eyes, Tom stared at Booker imploringly. “Help me,” he sobbed. “Oh God… please help me!”
Reaching out, Booker gently disengaged Tom’s fingers from the Glock. Flicking on the safety, he tucked it into the waistband of his jeans and sat down next his distraught colleague. He hesitated for a moment before placing a comforting arm around Hanson’s shoulder. “Jesus Tommy,” he whispered as Tom sobbed against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“He raped me!” Tom cried, his voice rising hysterically. “Oh God Booker, he RAPED me!”
Even though Dennis had guessed that the man had sexually assaulted Tom, hearing the words spoken aloud sent a chill down his spine. He realized that he needed to be careful what he said to Hanson, as it was obvious that the young officer was close to breaking point. Holding the trembling man in a tight embrace, Booker lightly stroked his hair. “It’s okay now Tommy, I’m going to get you some help,” he murmured softly.
Lifting his head, Tom’s eyes grew wide. “NO!” he cried out. “Booker please! I don’t want anyone to know!”
Deciding that it was better to lie than risk upsetting Tom further, Dennis nodded. “Okay Tommy, I won’t tell anyone at the department. But you need to see a doctor. If he didn’t wear a condom…” His voice trailed off and the unspoken words hung silently in the air between them.
Sniffing loudly, Tom nodded. “Okay, but not today. I can’t face it… I’m just so fucking tired, I can’t think straight.”
When Booker gave him a warm smile, Tom noticed a huge difference in the officer’s face. The arrogant sneer disappeared, replaced by full, inviting lips and his dark, mocking eyes softened as they crinkled at the corners. For the first time, Hanson saw a glimpse of the real Dennis Booker and he was surprised when the word beautiful popped into his mind. He quickly pushed the unwanted thought away, hoping that it was his distraught mind playing tricks on him because the idea that he thought Booker beautiful was almost too much for his confused mind to bear.
Thinking that Tom was waiting for him to reply, Dennis nodded. “Okay, but I’m taking you to the hospital tomorrow, no argument,” he said in a soft but firm voice.
“Okay,” Tom murmured and disengaging himself from Booker’s hold, he stood up. However, emotion and fatigue finally overcame him and the room started to spin. “I think… I need… to lie… down,” he mumbled before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed onto the floor.
Jumping to his feet, Dennis just managed to catch Tom by the shoulders, preventing his head from hitting the floor. Kneeling down, he cradled Hanson in his lap whilst gently stroking his face. When Tom’s dark eyes flickered open, Dennis gazed down at him worriedly. “Jesus Hanson,” he exhaled with relief. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry,” Tom muttered, lifting his head and smiling awkwardly. “I haven’t been eating.”
Helping Hanson to his feet, Booker kept a steadying arm around his waist as he walked him into the bedroom. Tom lay down on the bed and Dennis gave him a reassuring smile. “Get some rest,” he instructed. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”
A hot flush stained Tom’s cheeks. “You don’t have to stay,” he muttered, unable to meet Booker’s concerned gaze. “I’m not a baby.”
An amused grin played over Booker’s lips. “Nobody said you were,” he replied teasingly. “Now get some sleep.”
Tom watched Booker leave the room and pull the door partly closed behind him. Closing his eyes, he relaxed back against the pillow. For the first time since his attack, he felt safe knowing that Dennis Booker was in the other room watching over him.
**
Sitting on Tom’s couch, Booker stared at the muted television. Hanson had been asleep for over two hours and he was grateful to have the time to think. He had promised Tom that he would not divulge his secret but it was a promise he could not keep. As a police officer, he had an obligation to keep his fellow officers safe from harm and Hanson was a loose cannon. Although he did not want to make Tom’s sexual assault public, he knew he needed to tell Fuller so he could take the appropriate action and get Hanson some psychological help. He felt terrible that he had to betray Tom’s trust but he hoped that in time, Hanson would forgive him. There was also the worry of the loaded gun. Booker had no idea if Tom took the safety off because he felt threatened or if there was a more sinister motive. The idea that Hanson might be suicidal was a difficult one to come to terms with, but it was that thought and that thought alone that made Booker’s decision to reveal Tom’s secret a much easier one.
A high-pitched scream pulled Booker back from his contemplations and he jumped from his seat and ran into the bedroom. He found Tom sitting up in bed, panting heavily, his eyes bulging with panic. His clothes were drenched in sweat and his face was a deathly pale mask of terror. Being careful not to startle the frightened officer, Booker sat down on the mattress and placed a comforting hand on Hanson’s shoulder. “Hey Tommy, it’s okay, you had a nightmare,” he crooned softly.
Turning his wide-eyed expression towards Booker, Tom’s body trembled violently and he began to stutter as he clutched desperately at his protector’s arm. “N-No! H-He was h-here! I s-saw him! I s-saw him!”
Pulling Hanson into a gentle embrace, Booker stroked at his sweat soaked hair. “No he wasn’t Tom,” he reassured quietly. “It was a dream. I’ve been here the whole time; no one came into the apartment.”
Raising his head, Tom gazed into Booker’s dark, consoling eyes and his breathing slowly calmed. “Are you sure?” he whispered. “Because I really thought I saw him.”
Booker smiled. “I’m sure,” he murmured. “I promise you Tom, I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?”
“Okay,” Hanson muttered. Settling back against the pillows, he stared up at Booker shyly. “Will you stay here with me?” he mumbled. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Swinging his legs onto the bed, Booker lay down next to Tom. “Of course I will,” he replied gently. “And when you wake up, we’ll order pizza. You really can’t afford to lose any weight.”
Dennis’ last statement made Tom smile. “Yeah well, we can’t all be muscle men like you,” he teased.
Booker grinned. It was a relief to see Tom smile, even if it was only a small one. Placing his hands behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling. What a difference a few hours made. It seemed like only moments ago Hanson was screaming at him to fuck off and now they were lying together on his bed. Booker hoped that the tide had turned and he and Hanson could finally become friends.
Closing his eyes, his mind filled with images of Tom and he silently prayed that his betrayal would not put an end to that dream.
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- 6
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies