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fufaraw
TWENTY-TWO
"Chris, damn it, the harmony line is supposed to come in on the downbeat. That it's off-beat is the point, you need to listen--"
"I've listened to it, man, and it's crap. It sounds like somebody's not paying attention. And what's this minor key shit? It sounds like they're playing the wrong song--"
This was always the way collaboration went with Chris, Jensen knew that. And it was so tempting to start throwing things at the monitor where the webcam feed displayed. But common sense prevailed, and Jensen tried again to reason with his partner in crime. "Chris, the off-beat start and the minor key are supposed to make the listener feel like something's wrong, something's off. It's part of the atmosphere of the song. It cues the hair standing up on the back of your neck, and you listen closer to the lyrics, to find out what's going on, what's wrong."
"Well, it just makes me want to turn the damn thing off," Chris shot back. "Makes my teeth itch."
"Yeah, I know, you dumb Okie. Gets your attention, right? That's what it's for. Did you let Steve hear it? What did he say?" Jensen watched as Chris ducked a little to hide his expression behind the fall of his collar-length hair, and squirmed in front of the camera. He mumbled something unintelligible.
"What was that?" Jensen pushed, a grin breaking through at his writing partner's reluctant admission.
"I said he liked it with the changes," he barked at Jensen, scowling furiously.
"Well, there you go."
He didn't want to push too hard, so he just suggested, "Let Jason hear it, a few other people. Listen to it yourself a few times. Once you get past how wrong it feels to you, you'll start to hear how it makes a difference."
His private line rang--only four people had the number. "Hey man, I gotta take this," he told Chris. "Call me tomorrow, and we'll get the third verse down, okay?" Chris mumbled assent, and Jensen cut the feed. Before he could get to the phone, it went to voice.
"Jensen?" Jared. He sounded--was he drunk? "Jensen, he's dead. Chad's dead."
Jensen was across the room in seconds, the phone in his hand. "Jared, I'm here."
"Jensen. Jensen it was. It was an accident. In his car. His stupid--" the voice broke again, shattered by tears. "stupid Maseratti. Stupid car. Stupid Chad." Jensen could hardly understand him through the sobs.
"Jared, where are you?"
"--my office."
"Is anybody else there? With you right now?"
"'s Jill. She brought me tea. Jensen--"
"Jared, let me speak to Jill. Okay? Hand the phone to Jill."
There was a clatter, and Jared's voice muttering, and then Jill came on the line. "Jensen?"
"He's pretty bad, huh?"
"Yes sir. He's very upset. I think he should go home."
"I agree with you. Listen, will you put him in a cab and send him home? Can you do that for me? Don't let him drive."
"I can call a company car, sir."
"That's even better, thank you, Jill. Why don't you do that now, and I'll talk to him till you get back. I'd like to ask you to stay with him until you get him into the car. Tell the driver to bring him home, and if Jared asks to go somewhere else the driver is to ignore him and just bring him home. Can you do that?''
"Yes sir."
"Thanks, Jill. Let me talk to Jared while you get the car."
When Jared was safely in the company car and he had thanked Jill, Jensen dialed another number.
"Leslie? This is Jensen."
If the nanny was surprised to hear from him she hid it very well.
"There's been an accident, and one of Jared's friends was killed. He's coming home shortly. I just wanted to ask you to keep his kids in their rooms tonight. I'm going to ask Marta if she can stay, and if they need anything, you can call her and ask her to bring it up. Is that all right with you?"
"Yes sir, of course. Will Jared be coming in to say goodnight to the children?"
"Right now I don't know. But I need to make sure he gets something to eat, and has a chance to...relax a little, talk if he needs to. I'm sure if he wants to see the kids he'll be careful to not wake them, if they're already sleeping."
"Of course, Jensen. Thanks for letting me know. I hope Jared's okay."
"I do, too."
Once the kids and the nanny were squared away, Jensen dialed Marta's cell phone. "Hey, good lookin', are you still here?"
"I was just getting supper ready for Jared, handsome. What's up?"
"Jared's had some bad news, Marta, and he's taking it pretty hard. You remember his friend Chad?"
"Oh yes, that Murray boy. Don't tell me something happened to him?"
"Car accident. He didn't make it. I don't have any more details than that."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. He and Jared were close."
"Yeah, they were. Anyway, Jared's on his way home, and I've squared away Leslie and the kids for the night, but in case they need something, or Jared does, can you stay over tonight?"
There was a guest room and bath off the living room, originally intended as quarters for a live-in maid. Marta stayed there occasionally to be on hand when there was prep going on for a party or event. "Sure, Jensen. I'll be glad to. Are you guys going to eat dinner down here?"
"I'm going to try and get him to eat something. I'll just have to play it by ear. But honestly, I appreciate the backup. You so need a raise."
"Now you're talking, handsome. Dinner's timed to be ready in thirty, but I can keep it hot. You let me know."
"Will do, doll. And thanks again."
Jensen went downstairs to thank Marta in person. He made one more call before he heard the car drive up, and had the front door open. The driver walked Jared to the door and handed him off to Jensen. Jensen thanked him, and Jared did too. Once behind the closed door, Jensen got a good look at him. Face swollen and red and puffy, Jared swayed like someone drunk. Jensen gathered him in with both arms and held him tight. "I'm so sorry, man."
"He was a good friend."
"I know, Jared. Come on, let's get you inside. Get rid of that jacket and lose the tie," Jensen suited action to words, and led Jared toward the kitchen. "Marta's got dinner ready."
"I'm not hungry."
"I know you're not," Jensen nodded. "But you have to eat something, and she went to all the trouble to fix it. I could eat a little something myself."
Marta was setting plates out on the breakfast bar, and as the men settled on stools, she filled their plates. The food smelled wonderful, and Jensen picked up his fork, looking hard at Jared until he did the same. They managed to get about half the meal eaten before Jared laid down his fork and sobbed once.
"Come on, Sasquatch," Jensen wrapped an arm around Jared's waist and steered him toward the stairs. "Marta's going to get the lights and the alarm and do the door check tonight," he told him, throwing a glance at the housekeeper for confirmation and smiling his gratitude when she agreed. "So you don't even have to worry about anything, okay? Just you and me, man. Time to get you showered and put you to bed."
Jared was pliant and easily led, up the stairs, down the hall to the bedroom he and Jensen used to share, where he slept alone now. Jensen helped him undress and pushed him toward the shower. "Clean up. I'll lay out some pjs for you."
Jared's forehead lowered to bump gently against Jensen's. "You gonna be here when I get out?"
"Wouldn't be anywhere else, Jay."
"I can't believe he's gone, you know?"
"Yeah." Jensen gripped his shoulder for a minute, shaking him gently. "We'll talk about it when you get out."
While Jared was in the shower, Jensen retrieved his jacket and tie and hung them and the suit pants in the closet. He pulled a soft t-shirt and sleep pants from the drawer, went to check on Jared and left the clothes on the sink counter. The shower shut off, and Jensen, back in the bedroom, heard as Jared toweled his hair, brushed his teeth, gargled and spit. He looked better, though still tired, when he emerged from the bathroom.
"You want to sleep here, Jared? I'll stay if you want me. Or come down to my room for the night?"
It was an invitation offered seldom enough to be prized, and Jared nodded. "With you."
The two rooms over the garage and weight room had become Jensen's domain. He and Jared had the only keys, both to the door at the end of the hall, and to the stairs up from the weight room. Jared's keys usually hung in the kitchen where Marta could get them if there was an emergency. But she and Jared were the only ones besides Jensen with access, and neither of them entered without permission. The first room held Jensen's little studio, with his guitars, and recording, editing, and mixing equipment. There was a big couch along the wall, with a flat screen TV, DVR, and game consoles. There was a small kitchenette, with an undercounter fridge and a microwave. And then Jensen's office, with a big desk, low file cabinets, the room's end wall lined with bookshelves and cabinets. The carpeted floor, carefully planned lighting, and walls painted a neutral blue-grey made the space pleasant. Past the office were the stairs, Jensen's bedroom, bath, and a small sitting area.
The rooms were tasteful, masculine. Jensen had designed them and had chosen the furniture and finishes himself. It had been expensive, and he used his own money. It was worth the expense, as he spent most of his life here. The locked door meant Jared could enjoy the rest of his house with his children, with his family, and Jensen's, when they came to visit, and with his friends. Jensen was safe behind his door, comfortable, with everything he needed that he was allowed to have, right in these two rooms.
He did come downstairs often for a late dinner with Jared, after the kids were in bed. He'd arranged with Leslie to swim in the early mornings before the kids were up and about, and he frequently had time for breakfast in the kitchen while talking with Marta. The sound of running feet and high voices, though, would have him slipping out the sliding door to the patio, across to the weight room door and up the stairs to his domain.
This was the way they had lived since the last days of his first pregnancy, through the second pregnancy and now four months into the third. Jared wasn't as happy as he would have been had Jensen been in the bed they'd once shared every night. He wanted Jensen involved in their children's lives--it saddened him terribly that they had never even met their other parent, and it made him even sadder that Jensen continued to reject them, and to prevent them from all being a real family. But he loved Jensen, and if this arrangement made their life together one that Jensen could live, that kept him occupied and sane, then Jared would agree to it.
Jared sank onto the edge of the bed and pulled Jensen in between his knees, winding his arms around Jensen's waist, his face against Jensen's chest. Jensen wrapped both arms around him, stroking the chestnut hair he still wore long even after all these years. Jared sighed deeply, almost a sob. "Come on, baby," Jensen moved out of his arms and pushed him back on the bed, raising the covers so Jared could slide beneath. "Just gonna brush my teeth," Jensen told him. "Be right back."
Jared's eyes were still open when Jensen came to bed. Jensen pulled him in against him, and felt the wet trickle of tears on his skin. Jared held tight to Jensen as sobs shook him. "He was a good friend. I'm so mad at him--that was a stupid way to go. I'm going to miss him so much!"
"I know, baby," Jensen rocked him and let him cry it out. "Let it go. I'm here."
* * *
Jared woke slowly, body aching and with a headache, kickback from all the crying. He was cocooned against a warm body, wrapped up in arms he was grateful for. He dropped a kiss on a wrist and turned to look at Jensen, awake and looking back at him.
"Oh good," Jensen grinned. "You're awake. I gotta pee." He turned Jared loose and slid out of bed, padding into the bathroom.
Jared snickered, and then the reality hit him as he lay alone in Jensen's bed. He hadn't thought there were any more tears in him.
"Hey," Jensen had an arm, both arms around him, pulled him to sitting. "Hey, you need to get up. Marta's got breakfast for us, and then we've got some things to do." He thumbed the tears from beneath Jared's eyes and got him on his feet. They were halfway along the upstairs hall when a burst of laughter and the sound of running feet heralded the appearance of Leslie and the children. Jared took a few steps toward them and sank to one knee, both arms wide for the kids to swarm into them, giggling and hugging and kissing, little hands patting his back, his face. "Papa! Papa!" Jared made piggy noises while he poked them with his nose and kissed and kissed them, keeping them giggling. The doorbell rang, but no one paid attention. The little girl threw her head back and laughed and laughed. The boy clung to Jared's shoulder, and looked behind his papa at the stranger standing there.
He held Jensen's eyes for a long minute, and then Jared's fingers tickled his ribs and his eyes squinched shut in glee as he shrieked and wriggled, evading the tickling fingers.
"Jensen?" Marta called up the stairs. "You have a visitor." Jensen grinned at her equanimity, disguising any surprise at this out of character event. He edged past Jared and the kids, and nodded to the nanny as he went down the stairs. He met his visitor, and escorted him through the house, through the glass doors out onto the patio. Jensen led him in through the cabana entrance, up the stairs, and into his rooms.
"Thank you for coming," he said, opening the closet door so the man could hang the garment bag he carried.
Mr. Windom smiled in response. "Jensen, your father and brother are old and familiar customers. I'm very glad to help." He unzipped the bag and removed it, revealing three suits: one in navy blue, one in charcoal, and one a dark chocolate. "Why don't you slip into these, and we'll see about the fit?"
A half-hour later, the charcoal and the navy suits were hanging in Jensen's closet. Mr. Windom had pulled a compact but sufficiently stocked sewing kit from his pocket and swiftly made an alteration or two, and now each of them fit Jensen respectably. The chocolate-colored suit was zipped back into the bag to return to Windom's shop. Jensen's closet had yielded three full-cut dress shirts to wear with the new suits, and ties. He'd retrieved his dress shoes and his polish kit was sitting ready by the shoes. "I can't thank you enough for coming through like this. I know it was short notice, but you've been awesome."
Windom smiled and made a self-deprecating little bow. "All part of the service. My respects to your dad, when you see him."
"Of course," Jensen smiled. A quick glance from the window showed Leslie and the kids were in the pool. So, the shirt hangers hooked over his fingers, he showed Mr. Windom along the upstairs hall and down the stairs to the door. Jared was at the island, a bowl of cereal in front of him. Jensen handed off the shirts to Marta with a quick kiss to the cheek and a plea, "Press these for me, please?" She just nodded, smiled, and disappeared with the shirts. Jensen sat down by Jared, bumping shoulders. "How you doin', man?"
Jared shrugged and met Jensen's eyes. Unshed tears threatened, and he took a shuddery deep breath and leaned, a little, against Jensen. Jensen's hand cupped the nape of Jared's neck, and he pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Listen, handsome. You finish up here and go have a shower, okay? I've got some calls to make, and I'll be in after your shower."
"I should go. Over to Chad's--" He gasped a shallow breath. "Or his parents'. I don't know."
"Don't worry about it," Jensen pressed his face to Jared's. "Just finish your breakfast and take your shower. We'll go from there."
Jared sighed, and nodded.
Jensen's hands moved between the polish tin and the shoe, handling the cloth and the brush from long familiarity while he made a short series of calls. When he was done, he had Jared's itinerary for the day. Chad's parents had asked him to be pallbearer day after tomorrow, and Jensen accepted for him. There was a gathering of friends at Chad's place tonight, hosted by Matt and his wife. But before then, this afternoon, they needed to go by the Murrays', to give Jared a chance to make suggestions for the service, and to pay his respects.
There would be visiting hours at the funeral home tomorrow, and at the Murrays'. The funeral would be the day after. Jensen wrote his list, packed up his shoe kit, and jumped in the shower. While he was toweling off, a soft knock on the open hall door announced Marta, with his freshly pressed shirts. He thanked her profusely and gave her another kiss on the cheek. He dressed quickly, carrying his jacket, the tie loose around his neck, and went along to Jared's room, closing the hall door behind him.
Jared was standing in the middle of the room in his boxer briefs, hair still damp and a towel in his hands. He looked lost.
"Hey, big guy. We're going to head over to Chad's parents' house first, okay? So you need to get dressed." He pulled a dark suit and a pale blue shirt from the closet and laid them out for Jared, fetching socks from a drawer and polished shoes from the rack. Jared watched him, but didn't respond. "Jared?"
A hand went out to touch his face, fell to his shirt collar, fingered the loose end of the untied tie. "What are you wearing, Jen?"
"I'm wearing clothes, Jared. And so should you be, if we're getting out of the house today. Come on, man. People are waiting for you."
He bullied Jared into his clothes, sent him into the bathroom to comb his hair, and while he was gone, Jensen caught sight of his own reflection in the closet mirror. It took him by surprise, and he took a longer, more appraising look. Not bad, he decided. The suit fit well, showing off broad shoulders. If they didn't taper to as narrow a waist as he was used to, he was still quite presentable. He shrugged, looped the tie into its knot and scooped Jared's car keys out of the dresser tray. "Ready to go, big guy?"
The next few days would be mostly a blur in Jared's memory, with a few sharp images that stood out. He was aware of Jensen always at his shoulder, guiding him when his eyes flooded with tears, or when he forgot where he was supposed to be going, what he was doing. Jensen drove him where he was supposed to go; his voice tethered Jared when he got lost in his thoughts and memories. A warm hand on his back or his shoulder urging him in the right direction, or anchoring him in place would be the thing he remembered most.
He hugged Chad's parents and exchanged words of comfort. He sat with their friends in Chad's living room and remembered him, telling lies and embellishing stories until well after midnight, and Jensen took him home and put him to bed. Jensen was there when he woke with a nightmare, and soothed him back to sleep. He was there in the morning to make him eat and dress and go out to the office for a quiet memorial reception, and then to the funeral home to speak to extended family and a wider circle of friends. He ate and slept and woke and dressed, and carried Chad's coffin to his grave, and Jensen was at his shoulder, a warm and breathing presence while he sobbed as his friend was lowered into the ground.
When the family had been comforted yet again, and his and Chad's circle of friends had hugged and separated with promises to see each other soon, to stay in touch, to plan something in remembrance, Jared was hollowed out, numb, and cold. Jensen took him home, undressed him, laid him down in the big white bed and stroked, licked, sucked, and fucked him into blessed, sweet unconsciousness.
* * *
Jared's daughter was not pleased to surrender her crown as the youngest. She wanted nothing to do with her new baby brother, and snubbed him quite firmly. She demanded the attention of anyone who held him or looked into his face and cooed at him. Just generally, she was a very unhappy little girl with these new circumstances. Her older brother hadn't gone through quite as difficult an adjustment period when he'd been presented with her, and he seemed undecided now which sibling he should champion. On the one hand, he and his sister had been together quite a while, and the new kid was an interloper. On the other hand, their sister could be bossy and demanding, and a brother might be more of an ally. This situation demanded more empirical evidence.
TWENTY-THREE
Mark was pleased with how everything was going at seven months plus. When Jared complained that Jensen seemed to be suffering more daily aches and pains, the doctor assured them that with Jensen's fourth, these were factors of multiple pregnancies, and also of Jensen's aging body. Jensen overheard, pretending to listen to his iPod, and it was all he could do to keep from snorting. The doctor's blithe assurances were all very well, when it wasn't his body that was creaking and aching. But the baby was apparently healthy, another boy, and everything was on target. Jensen would be immensely relieved to have this pregnancy over with; but his relief was dampened by knowing it would start all over again, soon after this delivery. Still, Jared was happy, and Jensen didn't want to ruin that right now by grumbling.
He pitched drive-through on the way home. "Come on, Jared. A hamburger isn't going to kill me. I'll get a salad, too." He saw Jared weakening, and quickly added, "and one of those little sundaes--" But a screech of tires and a heavy impact prevented him from finishing his argument.
Jared heard a distant voice calling his name. "...ared? Jared!" Ow. His head hurt. The voice was sounding closer and more frantic. "Jared? Jared! Open your eyes!" Didn't want to. It was too bright and strange. A hand touched his arm, and the voice pleaded, "Jared. Jared, please man, open your eyes for me. Come on--" Jensen's voice.
"Jensen?" His throat was a little rusty, his voice came out ragged.
"Yeah." There was a little sigh of relief. "Come on, man, let me see those gorgeous hazel eyes. Look at me." So he did.
Oh fuck. The car. They were in the car, and they'd been hit. He was sitting at an odd angle, the seat belt cutting into him. The airbags had deployed and deflated. Ow. His hand came up to rub his forehead where it hurt, and came away blood-streaked.
"Yeah, man, it looks like you hit your head," Jensen said from the seat beside him. "How's your vision?" Jared blinked, and the fuzziness resolved, he grew used to the brightness.
"'S fine." He blinked again. Jensen. His attention arrowed down to the man next to him. "How are you? You okay?" Focusing finally on Jensen's face, he saw the relief and the fondness that Jensen's smile held for him. He was completely calm, and seemed to be fine, except the other car had hit them in Jensen's door, which had crumpled into the cabin and it looked like he might be pinned.
"Jensen, can you move?"
"Not--not much. I hear sirens, though; the rescue trucks should be here soon. I think I'll wait on them."
"Do you hurt anywhere?"
"No, but you're bleeding." Jensen's hand rose to touch Jared's forehead, but he didn't complete the movement. "You sure your vision's okay? Dizziness? Nausea?"
"I think I'm fine." He pushed at his door, and it popped open. He put a foot on the ground, and unfolded slowly from behind the wheel and stood up. Oh, he was going to be sore tomorrow, he could feel it. But right now everything seemed to be working. He peered back into the car. "Yeah, I'm good. You want to try and get out on this side?"
Jensen shook his head a little. "'M gonna wait. How's the other driver? Anybody hurt?"
The other driver. The one who had run the light and hit them. Jared suddenly felt the need to pound somebody and turned to leave. Jensen's voice called him back. "Hey. Just look, okay? I...kinda don't want you out of my sight right now."
Jared ducked to look in at Jensen, and quickly decided he didn't have anyplace else he needed to be. Jensen was white, every freckle apparent against his pallor. His face was beaded with sweat, his hair damp with it. He hadn't moved, but he seemed to have shrunk into his seat. Jared reached in and grabbed Jensen gently by the forearm. "Hey, hey, hey," he said, purposely keeping his voice low and trying to keep the panic out of it. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere." He was rewarded with a smile. A little one, but a smile.
Approaching sirens crescendoed and growled to silence as a rescue unit and a fire truck pulled off on the shoulder behind them, followed by a police car from the opposite direction. Jared stood and waved, "He's pinned in here. And I think he's going into shock!"
One of the paramedics backed Jared away to sit in the open back of the ambulance, asking questions while he tended to the cut and bump on his forehead. Another rescue unit and two police cars rolled up. Uniforms were directing traffic and taking measurements and talking to a few bystanders. One came over to talk to Jared while the medic bandaged his cut. Jared tried to watch what other paramedics and a couple of firefighters were doing. Jensen was still in the car...
"That's all I know," he told the cop as the medic packed away his supplies, Jared started toward the car. The cop caught him by the shoulder. "I think you ought to wait here and let them work, son. They know what they're--"
A shriek like nothing Jared had ever heard had every head turning toward the wrecked cars, and Jared stood frozen for the longest seconds of his life before bolting for the car. It took the medic and two cops to hold him back as more firemen swarmed over the wreck. "Jensen! Let me go!" his struggles were no match for three of them. Not another sound came from the wreck except for the grunts of effort and urgent, bitten-off instructions as the firefighters worked to free Jensen. The medic holding Jared looked to the uniforms, "You got him?" When they nodded he grabbed his medical case and sprinted toward the wreck.
* * *
There was a touch on his shoulder, and Jared looked up into the eyes of his brother. "Hey."
"Hey yourself. How you doin', shorty?" Jeff bent at the knees to squat beside Jared's chair in the hall outside Emergency.
"They called you, huh?"
"Yeah, someone caught the name and let me know." Jeff put the paper cup of coffee in Jared's hand, waiting until he was sure Jared's fingers had grasped it before he let go. "How is he?"
Jared shook his head. "I don't know. They haven't told me anything." He blinked, unable to get his last sight of Jensen out of his mind, white and limp and unresponsive on the stretcher, his legs soaked crimson. The last time he'd heard Jensen's voice had been screaming. God. "I don't know."
Jeff's hand came down hard on his shoulder as he levered up to his feet. "Wait here, bud. Be right back." White coat flapping, stethoscope draped around his neck, Dr. Padalecki strode back behind the curtains to find out something definite.
* * *
The eyelids parted to reveal a sliver of green. "Hey," Jared smiled. Jensen's fingers tightened where their hands were clasped, weakly, but noticeably. "You're gonna be fine, Jen. Promise."
"...baby?"
This was the hard one. Jared had hoped for a delay until Jensen was stronger, but the grip tightened, and Jensen was staring, demanding an answer. He took Jensen's hand in both of his. "No," Jared told him. "He didn't make it."
Jensen's face crumpled. "...sorry," he breathed, before his eyes closed again.
* * *
Jensen was in surgery for more than six hours. Their fourth child though, their third son, was dead before he took his first breath, ripped away from his lifelines, his safe confines breached by the impact. Jensen suffered serious internal damage; it was miraculous the EMTs had kept him alive, staunched the blood loss long enough to reach the hospital. He had flatlined in ER and again in surgery. Somehow, for some reason Jared didn't understand but accepted as the gift it was, Jensen had managed to hang on, to breathe again, his heart unwilling to give up and stop for good.
Nearly seven hours of painstaking matching of torn and broken bits, stitching things never meant to be parted back together again. Nearly seven hours of hope and despair and heroism and refusal to give up. Jared had Jensen back, thank god. He'd live, and he'd recover. He'd walk and laugh and eventually do just about anything he wanted to do, once he'd completely recovered, and Jared was utterly, deeply grateful.
But there would be no more babies.
* * *
There was really no one to blame, after all. An apparently healthy forty-seven year old man had suffered a heart attack at the wheel, his foot hard on the accelerator. His car had shot across the intersection at the red light and plowed into Jared's SUV. The driver was probably dead before the impact, the ME said. Jared wanted to hate him, but it seemed futile. The driver was married, with two kids, and his family was devastated at their loss; Jared didn't feel capable of adding to their pain. But circumstances left him with no outlet for his sorrow, nowhere to exhaust his rage at fate. He tried to turn it to something useful.
Jared listened to the hold music, fingers tight on the phone till he forced himself to relax them. He was tempted to hang up. He had no idea if the man would even talk to him, but he hoped, he hoped.
"Mr. Padalecki?" the tone was not quite clipped, but not quite welcoming, either. It was the note of curiosity he allowed to show that had prompted him to accept the call.
"Mr. Clark," Jared addressed the Ackles' family lawyer, Jensen's attorney. "I spoke to Alan Ackles, and he gave me your number."
"Yes," Clark's tone was noncommittal. "Alan told me you'd be calling, and asked if I would hear you out."
"That was good of him," Jared smiled. "I appreciate that. I'm calling because I have a project in mind, and I need your help."
He outlined what he hoped to accomplish, and Clark was almost immediately on board. He promised to clear his schedule for the next afternoon if Jared wanted to drop by the office, so they could get to work on this. Jared wanted.
* * *
Jared recognized the figure walking away down the corridor with slow, determined steps, his hand clutched tightly on the rolling IV stand he used as support.
He caught up quickly and put a supporting arm around him. "Jensen! Should you be out of bed?"
The grin that slanted up at him was infectious, if a little crooked. "Doc's orders. I'm doin' laps."
There was a whisper of fabric behind them and Sally, Jensen's day nurse, passed them, commenting, "That's enough laps for now. Take a break."
Jensen didn't argue. He leaned a little on Jared as they headed for his room. Once there, he took his time sitting on the edge of the bed and easing back into it. The head of it was raised so he could sit, but maneuvering was obviously painful. Jared was quick to take Jensen's feet and gently lift his legs onto the bed, so the newly-repaired and healing stomach muscles didn't have to lift their weight. Despite the evidence of fatigue, Jensen's color was better, and he was moving much easier. Jared couldn't help leaning over him and planting a kiss on his lips. From Jensen's grin, he seemed not to mind at all.
They talked for a while, until tired from his exercise, Jensen nodded off. Sally lowered the head of the bed a little, not enough for the angle to pull on Jensen's stitches. Jared sat for a few more minutes, watching Jensen sleep, happy and grateful he was here to be watched. At last he dropped a soft kiss on Jensen's forehead, switched off the overhead light, leaving just the bedside lamp, and left to find Sally and get the day's update.
"The end of the week?" Jared wanted to be elated, but what he was, was scared. Jensen seemed so fragile--how were they going to care for him at home? Shouldn't he be here, in the hospital where he was safe? With the doctor and nurses close by, just in case?
"In case of what, Jared?" Sally wanted to know. "He's mending. You see how fast he's recovering. He'll improve even faster at home in his own bed, in familiar surroundings. Now that he's up and walking, you'll be amazed at the improvement by the weekend." She patted his arm reassuringly, and he calmed a little. He was prone to panic, now, about Jensen. He'd earned it, he knew. But he also knew he would have to let go of it. For one thing Jensen would have his head if Jared tried to hold him back from doing as much as he could do. And for another, that panic response wasn't good for either of them. He thanked Sally, and made plans to be present for doctors' rounds in the morning, so he could talk to Mark, as well.
"I have an appointment I have to keep right now," he told the nurses at the station. "But I'll be back in about an hour and a half. Can I bring you ladies anything? Coffee? Donuts? Smoothies from the fruit bar on Clayton?" There was a flutter of assent, and he got flavor preferences before he turned to go. "If he wakes up, tell Jensen I'm coming back."
Clark welcomed Jared into the office, waved him toward a chair as he sat behind his desk. "I started some preliminary investigation into the matter you mentioned. I'm curious. Why come to me? Your family attorneys are capable."
"Mr. Clark, Jensen's told me how thorough you were in trying to find a way to reverse Repro's claim. Alan has spoken to me of your devotion and tirelessness on behalf of the Ackles family. You have the advantage over my family lawyers in that you've already done a lot of research, and you've dealt with Repro. They'd be starting from ground zero."
Arthur nodded, and after a moment, Jared went on. "And I thought you might have a professional stake in the outcome."
There was a long, silent moment, and then the corners of Clark's mouth turned up in a wicked little smile. He slanted a glance at Jared; between the icy grin and the sideways look, the proper Mr. Clark suddenly looked almost piratical. "Mr. Padalecki, it's going to be a pleasure working with you."
TWENTY-FOUR
Jared was afraid to touch him. Well, in the weeks Jensen had been home, Jared seemed to need to have his hands all over him, but he wouldn't touch him the way Jensen wanted to be touched. He was feeling victorious right now though. Pleading a need for a nap and company this afternoon, he'd managed to get Jared naked and in his bed. Jensen had stripped down to a t-shirt, but had left that on. He'd seen the horror in Jared's eyes at the scar across Jensen's abdomen, and Jensen absolutely didn't want that reaction right now.
He pulled Jared against him, skin on skin, the way he'd craved for the last weeks but had been too weak and sore to ask for. His hand coasted down Jared's flank, the skin pebbling with goose bumps in its wake, and Jared shifted against him. "Jen--"
"Shh. I got this," Jensen murmured. "Jared, Jared. Let me."
Jared sighed, his face tucked into Jensen's neck, breath tickling the fine hairs there. He shifted a little, to make it an easier reach for Jensen's hand to fold around his cock. He wasn't hard, and as Jensen stroked, encouragingly, he filled a little, but slowly.
"Jared, it's okay. It's been awhile, but it's okay now. Come on, come on." Jensen ducked until he got his lips next to Jared's ear and purred a stream of nonsense, breath hot and humid against Jared's skin, and Jared's breath hitched as he thrust into Jensen's hand. "That's the way, man. I've got you. Jared, Jared, Jared," Jensen chanted his name as he stroked, chanted it like a love spell, like a paean, swimming in the sound of it as he was surrounded with the feel of Jared's bone and muscle and skin, the beat of his blood, the gasp of his breath. Jared filled and hardened, rutting against him until he stilled, tense as a bowstring, then spilled into Jensen's hand.
"Jensen."
Jensen claimed his mouth, devouring him in a way Jared had evaded till now, believing Jensen still too fragile for physical exertion. "Missed you," Jensen told him, looking him straight in the eyes with love and heat and understanding.
"Missed you too," Jared sucked at his earlobe, and his neck, rucking the neck of the t-shirt aside to bite at Jensen's collarbone, making him groan. He slid down the bed and settled between Jensen's legs, and Jensen widened them to make room. Jared's hand wrapped his length, and he licked and sucked at Jensen's cock, just the head, pulling off to blow across the wet surface. Jensen squirmed. "Jared, you fucker. Don't tease," he whined.
Grinning, Jared bent to his task, licking and stroking until, in one movement, he swallowed Jensen to the base. Jensen nearly arched off the bed, but Jared's forearm across his hips kept him in place while he backed off to lick a wide, flat stripe up the underside, and suckle the head, tonguing the slit.
Jensen's fists twisted in the bedsheets and he did his best to hold still, to feel every bit of this. But it had been weeks since he came. Granted, he was ill and sore much of that time, and sex had been the last thing on his mind. But it had still been far too long.
Jared licked down his shaft and sucked in one of Jensen's balls, humming as he sucked it gently and let it slide out so he could give the second one the same treatment. Jensen cried out and bucked, and Jared eased off. When Jensen looked down at him along his body, Jared's expression was one of hesitation and fear. "Jensen? Is it all right? Should I stop?"
"You stop and I'll gut you," Jensen growled. "Come on, Jared. I won't break."
Jared grinned and fell back to work. And Jensen had no trouble at all admitting Jared was good at his job. He bucked and tensed as he released, and then sagged boneless onto the mattress.
Jared lay as he was, head pillowed on Jensen's thigh, one hand up underneath the hem of the t-shirt. Jensen couldn't feel Jared's fingers, the scar was mostly numb while the severed nerves knit themselves back together. But he could feel pressure, and sensation on either side of the scar where Jared's fingertips brushed the regrowing stubble, and he knew Jared was tracing the path of the scalpel. Jensen's hand stroked through Jared's hair and cupped his skull, and suddenly he was aware of wetness on the skin of his thigh. Jared tried to suppress it, but the shaky inhale was definitely a sob.
"Jared?"
"Lost him, Jen. Never even got to take a breath. Never held him."
"I know, man."
"He was alive. On the ultrasound he was sucking his--" his voice faltered, then recovered. He still traced the scar. Jensen tried to get him to raise his head, meet Jensen's eyes, but Jared resisted. "--his thumb. He might have lived, if they'd been able to deliver him."
"I know, Jared." Jensen felt a pang of guilt and responsibility for Jared's loss, not for the first time. He'd failed at his job. "I'm so sorry."
"No. Don't you do that. It wasn't your fault." Jared's arms went around Jensen, his face pressing against the scar through the t-shirt, tears soaking the fabric. He held on tight, shook his head. When he got the next words out they were little more than a whisper. "Almost lost you, too."
He did look up then, full into Jensen's face, and Jensen couldn't let that stand, not the way Jared was feeling. He slid down so he could wrap his arms around Jared.
"Right here, man. I'm right here. Not going anywhere." He held Jared tight while he fell apart, while he mourned his son and dealt with the near-loss of his lover. Jared had held everything together, taken care of everybody and everything while Jensen lay damaged and recovering, and now that the crisis was past, it was Jensen's turn to take care of him. "S okay. You're okay. I got you. Everything's going to be fine, you'll see."
While Jared slept, Jensen slipped out of bed to shower. He paused at the sight of himself in the bathroom mirror, newly installed, as was the dark-framed standing mirror in the corner of the bedroom. It had been a while since he'd seen more than his face reflected, and he stripped off the shirt and tossed it toward the hamper, and stared unflinchingly at his body.
The scar was still red and a little puffy. He traced it with gentle fingertips, incorporating its reality into his appearance. It would lose the redness, the puffiness, but it was large, and it would always be apparent. He knew it reminded Jared of what--of whom--he'd lost, but he hoped that eventually Jared would be able to look at him and not be reminded of that loss. Jensen stroked his belly, recognizing the need for crunches and sit-ups, lots of them. His fingers wandered over the scar again, and he met his own eyes in the mirror. He wouldn't lie to himself; he wasn't ashamed of the scar, he wasn't afraid to look at it. In fact, if he was completely honest, he loved it a little. The scar had earned his freedom from baby-making. The law still saw him as a ceiver, he knew that. But now, at least to himself, he was just Jensen again.
* * *
When the call came from Arthur Clark, Jared had Jill reschedule all his appointments for the afternoon, and raced over to Clark's office. Shaking the lawyer's hand, he met Clark's smile with one of his own.
"Is it real? Did we really do this?"
Clark held out a fat envelope, addressed to Jared in care of Clark's firm. "We really did it. They weren't expecting it, of course. I don't believe this situation has ever come up before."
Jared nodded, his fingertips tracing over the Department of Reproduction letterhead on the envelope.
"But should it ever arise again, there's a precedent now."
Jared flashed a grim little smile. "Good," he said. He waved the sealed envelope. "But--why did this come to me? Why not to Jensen?"
"Because until he signs these," Clark lifted a sheaf of documents that had arrived in a large mailer along with the letter for Jared. "And we have them officially documented, certified, and filed, he's still a ceiver, and you're still legally responsible for him."
Jared nodded. "Can I bring him in tomorrow to have him sign the papers?"
"Of course." Clark agreed at once, then took a longer look at the man in front of him. "You haven't told him, have you? That you were trying to get his ceiver status cancelled? Return his citizenship?"
Jared shook his head.
"So, I imagine this is going to be an interesting evening for the two of you," Clark smiled. "Have you said anything to his family? To your family?"
Jared shook his head again. "Not until we succeeded. I-- I didn't want to get anybody's hopes up, if we couldn't pull it off."
Clark nodded his understanding. "And now we have. There are going to be a lot of happy people in your family, I imagine."
Jared's smile was slow, but it didn't stop growing till the dimples were in full array. He stood, took two swift steps across the room and enveloped the lawyer in a tight hug. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I don't-- There's no way I can ever--"
"Go home," Clark smiled while gently extricating himself. "Enlighten the young man in your life."
The phrase in the second verse just wasn't working. Jensen had already employed the McCartney trick of using "scrambled eggs" as a placeholder, but even though the melody seemed solid, words just weren't coming to fit. Not ones that meant anything, anyway. He struck a vicious sour chord on purpose, and from behind him Jared's voice said, "Problems, Jen?"
Jensen turned to see him lounged in the doorway, and his face relaxed into an automatic smile before he registered the tension in Jared's pose and the strange expression he wore, and the envelope and papers he held in the hand that wasn't braced on the door frame.
"Jared? What is it?" Jensen reached him in two strides.
Jared stared into his eyes like he was starving for the sight of him, and Jensen could feel the slight trembling of his body.
"Jared--?"
He thrust the papers into Jensen's hands. Brushing past him into the room, he turned to watch as Jensen read.
"This is addressed to you, Jared." Then he saw the letterhead. "This is from Repro?" He looked for confirmation to Jared, who nodded. "Why are you showing it to me?"
"Read it, Jensen."
Jensen's eyes dropped back to the papers in his hands, and his eyes scanned the print on the pages. As the import of the words began to make sense, as the hope they provided began to seem real, Jensen sought Jared's eyes. "Is this--?"
"It's real, Jen. It's all true. You're free."
Jensen's hands tightened, crumpling the pages. Then he laid them on the desk and smoothed them out again.
"Free," he breathed, as though unsure what the word meant.
"The Department of Reproduction no longer has jurisdiction over you. They release you from ceiver status. You're a free man."
Jensen sought Jared's eyes. Jared didn't see the joy he'd anticipated there, the relief and happiness at being released from a fate he'd never wanted. Jared voiced the thoughts that had been running through his mind since he'd opened and read the documents. "You can have your life back, man. I know you've lost years, but you're still young. You can start your career over, I don't know, find some girl, if you want. Get married. Go-- go out anywhere you want, on your own. 'Get drunk, fuck girls, get in the car and take a road trip, see your friends,'" he quoted something Jensen had said, long ago. "You don't have to stay." Jared's gaze fell; he couldn't stand to watch Jensen's face as the realization hit home. He couldn't watch Jensen begin making plans to leave him, and the life they'd made together. He pulled himself together, stood, and took Jensen in a quick hug and quicker release. "Congratulations, man. We'll have to celebrate." He couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't even look him in the face.
When he went to step back, Jensen's arms went quick around him and held him in place. Jensen caught his jaw in one hand and kissed him, a real kiss, deep and hard. Jensen's hand shook him a little, till his eyes opened, and Jen's own gaze was blazing, joyful, full of promise and a light he'd seen only rarely. "Ass," Jensen accused.
"Wh-What?"
The light dimmed a little, and Jensen released him and stepped back. "You too," he said, suddenly much less happy. "This frees you, too."
"What do you mean?"
"Well," Jensen shrugged his shoulders casually, though Jared could read the tension in his posture. "I'm no good anymore—no more babies. It's understandable. You want more kids, and I'm sure Repro would be glad to assign you another ceiver--"
"Stop. Just stop it."
He took the step necessary to get him close enough to put hands on Jensen, tilted up his jaw with one hand and kissed him soundly. "Nobody else," he murmured against Jensen's mouth, unwilling to part them more than enough to get the words out. "I don't want another ceiver. I don't want anybody else but you. I love you." He planted soft kisses on Jensen's eyes, and waited till they opened again. "But I don't want you here because you have to be. If you want to go--if you want to find someone--"
Jensen surged up against him, straining to touch everywhere. "Not. Going. Anywhere," he said. "Here to stay."
Jared's smile broke across his face. "Good," he said.
