A mighty pain to love it is

Master Post: Release Me

Sun, 30 Aug 2009 01:31:22 GMT

Chapter 1: http://3rd-leg.livejournal.com/11906.html#cutid1

Chapter 2: http://3rd-leg.livejournal.com/12115.html#cutid1

Chapter 3: http://3rd-leg.livejournal.com/12345.html#cutid1

Chapter 4: http://3rd-leg.livejournal.com/12598.html#cutid1

Chapter 5: http://3rd-leg.livejournal.com/13935.html#cutid1

Chapter 6: http://3rd-leg.livejournal.com/14190.html#cutid1

Chapter 7: http://3rd-leg.livejournal.com/14363.html#cutid1

Release Me 8

Sat, 29 Aug 2009 20:29:48 GMT

Title: Release Me

Author: 3rd_leg

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Always read the fine print, 'cause I thought for sure this time I had finally succeeded, but alas.

Summary: Jensen's making progress, Chris is trying to play both sides, Sandy's back, and Jared's breaking and confused.

A/N: My brain's been mush for a while. Please let me know if you feel I've lost my mind or that this was lackluster....

XXXX

Chris tugs on the curtains of the too small window. “What’s green, blue, and better than the ICU?”

Jensen bites his bottom lip in feigned consideration. “Steve’s new album?”

“Hell no,” Chris laughs, hopping over the recliner chair arm and landing heavily on the seat, boots resting on the edge of Jensen’s bed. “Dude can’t even decide on the play list for that thing.”

Jensen pushes himself up to a sit. Unleash the fan crowd, bitches. He can so do that on his own now. “Thought you vowed on a dozen Coronas to help with that.”

“That I did,” Chris agrees with a smirk. “’S why that boy’s back in L.A. as we speak. Got his ass to the grind. Lemme tell ya.”

Jensen chuckles, but grows somber so quickly Chris has whiplash. “Haven’t heard from Eric really. Just what Jared tells me. I mean, it’s not like him to not try to get in contact. Unless it’s bad. I still got a job, right? We’re still on? Wait, Jay would tell me if we weren’t. Right?”

Jensen knows he’s rambling, but he can’t help it. Chris can take it. And yeah, usually Jared does, but Jensen’s not sure Jared’s running on all cylinders at the moment. He’s got enough on his plate with she-who-won’t-stop-calling.

“That’ll do, Jensen,” Chris cracks the knuckles on his left hand. “Speaking of Padalecki, how’s it going with you and Jay-man?”

“Been kinda, I dunno, different since I woke up. Think it’s just stress, you know?” Jensen can feel the redness on his cheeks and ducks his head. “But fine. Good. Fine.”

“Ah, now, c’mon. I was just asking. No strings I swear.” Chris raises his hands in mock surrender and smiles. And shit, Jensen knows that smile.

Jensen’s eyes widen, his mouth gaping wide enough to catch flies. “You told him? I’m—I’m…if you told him I’m gonna kill you, Kane.”

“I didn’t say nothing, Ackles.” Chris defends but doesn’t lose the shit-eating grin regardless of Jensen’s horrified expression. “He’s sans girl now. All I’m saying.”

“He doesn’t need that right now. I can’t…not now.” Jensen gapes, self-consciously eyeing his reflection in the metal paper towel dispenser. “’Sides, if I did tell him how I feel, I-I’d want to be somewhere…not here. And I’d wanna shave first and wear my own clothes.”

Chris smirks. “Gonna sweep him off his gargantuan feet, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jensen retorts, its firm but without heat. He figures he must be looking stressed because Chris goes from amused to serious pretty damn quick. That’s all Jensen needs for a go ahead to channel his anxiety. “They could still patch things up. That could happen. He loves her. I know he’s the one that called it but-”

“He tell you why?” Chris interjects, and Jensen shakes his head. “He’s gonna say its cause of one thing. Listen here, it ain’t. He may not wanna admit it. But it just ain’t.”

Jensen purses his lips, his head tilted as he processes the statement. “What are you guys not telling me?”

Boots slam against the shiny linoleum and Chris leans forward, elbows on knees. “Whatcha mean?”

“I mean, Doc told me I had bacterial meningitis and gave me a warning lecture for side effects. I got the gist of what happened from Dad. You know, how I got here. But that’s it. And don’t tell me there’s not something else.”

“Same shit different day, man.” Chris responds, his tone level and damn unaffected by Jensen’s frustration which ain’t helping Jensen’s anger any. “Give it time, alright? You need to keep getting better, not over do it ‘cause of random crap.”

“But-“

“I got enough blame coming my way. I ain’t gonna be the reason you scare everybody again.” Chris snaps, and fuck if it don’t sting when the words hit Jensen’s ears.

“How bad?” Jensen whispers to the hospital sheets.

Chris rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Watcha mean?”

“How bad did I scare…him?”

XXXXXX

“Dude, you suck!” Jared shrieks, hammering the controller as he tries to throw in a pass off the baseline. He’s down by one now thanks to another of Jensen’s offensive three-point strategy buckets.

“Can’t hit one for shit in reality, Jay,” Jensen laughs, struggling to see the position of his digital players on the small hospital TV. Of course, Jared’s hulky stance directly in front of the tiny screen also had something to do with it. “Man, fucking move!”

The tell-tale music and programmed ‘sweet play’ hit Jensen’s ears. He glares when Jared steps aside doing his victory party dance, leaving Jensen forced to watch the game’s replay of the totally cheating fast break dunk for the leading score.

“Dude, you’re killing me here!” Jensen whines through laughter. He knows his frustration is badly feigned, so he has no choice but to throw the controller for further emphasis. This is the most fun he’s had in a while, but letting Jared blatantly see he doesn’t mind losing to him? That’d earn Jensen’s torture for eternity. The smile on Jensen’s face reaches the point of aching before he realizes Jared has just…stopped.

Jensen scrambles for the controller and places the game on pause. Jared’s frozen mid-dance pose was something straight out of the ‘things to do at camera to make the crew laugh’ game they play in down time on set. Seriously, Jay’s scary good at it and Jensen pays the staff photographer a nice bonus every month for the proofs. So, see, he almost looks funny, and Jensen’s tempted to laugh until he sees past the body configuration and actually meets Jared’s unblinking stare.

“Jay?”

It’s soft and quiet. It had felt like anything louder than a whisper would spook Jared like a caged animal. But, Jensen was wrong. All it took was him gently murmuring Jared’s name to send the man bolting from the room.

XXXXXX

Jared curls in on himself, damn near fetal position and huddles his tall frame in the corner of the stairwell four flights above Jensen’s floor. His rapid breath and crushing sobs echo through the stone and metal space. He can’t make it stop and dammit, he’s been fucking trying for what seems like hours.

He swipes angrily at the tears pouring down his face. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out with a growl lodged in his throat. He ignores the call and pauses when the home screen reappears. Jared swallows thickly, his thumb directing the screen to display the calendar.

Jared tilts his head back against the wall, his neck stretched and jerking as he fights the tumultuous roller coaster of emotions he’s been on since day one. Day one of twenty seven.

He’s told himself every long, painful day that he’d be better once Jensen was. It’s day twenty-eight today. And Jared can’t for the life of him figure out why he’s losing his mind, and it’s all closing in.

XXXXXX

Jensen rounds the corner of the hallway and flails his arms in search of the railing. Physical therapy is a bitch and the constant tugging on the gait belt isn’t doing much to help his self-confidence with this whole walking thing. It’s downright humiliating people are seeing him like this. God forbid someone snap a picture. He’s becoming a hermit if even one god-forsaken fansite posts one.

Its better when Jared walks with him, short treks as they may be. He was really worried after the whole break up ordeal and the fleeing from the room snafu. The walks are definitely a ploy to keep tabs on Jay-man’s current state, and well other states of events during Jensen’s lost time. Although, Jensen certain Jared wasn’t being completely honest about having to give Eric a BJ to keep his sick friend hired, or that Jay’s fantasy team is currently in the lead.

Regardless of honesty, Jensen can see a hint of the spark returning in Jared, dull as it may be behind dark-circled eyes, thinning frame, and sunken shoulders. He and Jared have way more to discuss, but it secretly makes him all kinds of proud that he, Jensen Ackles, is the one that can bring Jared back to well, Jared. Bottom line, it feels normal, not sterile and awkward like everything else in this fucking place.

Rebecca, however, insists the hospital is paying her so Jensen’s just going to have to put up with her most days. But seriously, he’s had to deal with her three days straight and he’s officially bored with small talk and mini-pep squad routines when he fumbles for his footing.

“Just one more lap around the hall, and we’ll call it a day,” Rebecca chirps, her ponytail flicking back and forth with the bouncing of her head.

Jensen’s brain screams obscenities at her pleasure in regards to his torture. “Already did four!”

“And I’m proud of you for that,” Rebecca grins. Jensen growls.

By the time they make it halfway, Jensen’s breathless. No matter what Rebecca thinks, his slant to the right was so not an attempt to run her into the wall. More of a chair. Now. Seriously. Right the fuck now.

“Shit!” Jensen heaves, allowing Rebecca to steer him into the waiting room and into a chair. Jensen feels the blush on his face when the scattered strangers look his way.

“You’ve been in bed awhile. It’ll get easier the more you start using those muscles again.” The therapist encourages, the always plastered grin tapering off into a concerned frown. “Does it feel like your legs are going to give out on you, or is it more or a throbbing all over pain?”

“Both?” Jensen responds, his voice low.

“I’ll get a chair to take you back to the room then.” Rebecca states with a nod, and she’s vacated the room before Jensen can even start to argue.

He chooses to ignore the small dispersed crowd and their rapidly diverting stares and tugs at his hospital gown self-consciously. A loud, throaty laugh echoes down the hall, and Jensen feels his heart skip a beat, sweat rapidly dampening his palms. He tries to sit up straighter when footsteps draw nearer.

Jensen’s forehead scrunches as the laughter gets closer and he realizes that its more bellowing than gasping and definitely more deeper in comparison to Padalecki cackling. He leans back deflated when the unknown man, in a fit of chuckling, saunters past the waiting room entrance. Jensen sighs. He’s getting tired of falling asleep and waking up in this place just to miss Jared’s familiar company.

Jensen really doesn’t know when Jared became the one thing he looked forward to in the day, but he’s certain the Sasquatch is. He knows that should mean something, but he’s not sure Jared would think so.

XXXXXX

Jared watches the thin line of smoke puncture the air as he exhales. He twists the cigarette into the cement ledge and taps another one out of the box. He’s moderately startled when a lighter flickers inches from his face.

“Trade ya.” Chris drawls. Jared’s brain realizes every fiber in his being is too damn tired to argue. He accepts the light.

“What do you want?” Jared demands roughly. He taps the box again and cursing when he realizes he’s about to hand over his last one.

Chris leans against the ledge, cigarette pinned between his lips and hands cupped as he lights up. “Sandy’s upstairs waiting on ya. Showed up ‘bout ten minutes ago.”

Jared barks out a laugh. “You tell her where I was?”

“Nah, Jay.” Chris taps the ash off the end of the cigarette and smirks. “Thought you knew me better than that.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jared snaps, and yeah, okay, he wasn’t going to try to get in a fight tonight. But maybe, deep down, he really wants one regardless.

“Alright, man. Fucking seriously. Take a swing if you want. But don’t think if this shit fest was reversed I wouldn’t have knocked out Jensen.” Chris responds sharply, and Jared inhales a little too deep, and coughs out, tasting the nicotine.

“Don’t think you’d have to,” Jared admits sullenly, scrubbing at his stubble.

“You hard on yourself, know it?”

Jared chooses to stare at the barely full parking lot than acknowledge the statement.

“You should talk to him.” Chris states cautiously.

Jared snaps toward Chris, bloodshot eyes honing in on the man’s anticipating stare. “You’re on my side now?”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Always have been, Padalecki. You were just too amped up to see it.”

“Almost lost him already. Not gonna go through that again cause I’m—cause I’m...It’s my—my choice. Can’t make it his. That’s not fair to Jen.” The argument is one Jared’s reminded himself of everyday for almost two years. It should sound stronger by now—more right, something. It doesn’t.

“What ain’t fair is letting him think something that ain’t true,” Chris offers through clenched teeth, the cigarette stuck as his hands tuck his long hair behind his ears. “Last few weeks first. Then maybe…everything else you been burning over the long haul. Shit you told me.”

“It’s the maybe part I’m worried about.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Maybe I was wrong.”

“You weren’t. You jus’ scared.”

“Wasn’t asking your opinion, Kane.”

XXXXXX

“Hey,” Sandy’s voice is sweet and gentle as she approaches, her hands brushing the growing stubble on Jared’s face. He lets her, leaning down and meeting her searching eyes. They are dimmed with hurt and something akin to sympathy. “How you been?”

Jared shrugs half-heartedly, and crouches down to sit on the bottom concrete step. He stretches his legs out on the floor landing, leaning back to rest on his elbows. The stairwell might not have been the best place for this conversation, but privacy is hard to come by in a hospital and typically, elevators win out when you’re five flights up. “Why are you here, San? Told you I don’t want this anymore. Take a fucking hint, okay?”

“Jay, I know you’re upset. And if you’d actually answer your phone some time this week you’d know I’m aware what I did was wrong, and I shouldn’t have forced sleep on you like that.” Sandy tugs her lowriders up and sits down next to Jared. “I was so worried. I still am. You can understand that. Can’t you?”

“How many times do we have to do this, Sandy?” Jared scratches his jaw line, grimacing at the sweaty strands of hair stuck to his neck. “I can’t—“

Sandy crosses her arms. “We’re not breaking up over sleeping pills, Jay. We’re both adults here, okay? That’s just ridiculous.”

“We’re not.” Jared’s not sure if that came out more as a statement or a question, but either way Sandy looks just as confused. Go figure.

“You’re stressed and exhausted,” Sandy comments and Jared rolls his eyes, because no shit Sherlock. “Jay, it was bad timing. I didn’t know what else to do. You weren’t stopping. Hell, baby, you still aren’t.”

Jared bristles, straightening up with arms outstretched to the door. “How the fuck can I? Jensen—“

“Is getting better. Doc said he’s going to get out of here soon,” Sandy presses, her expression so open and caring Jared sort of feels like an ass for dreading coming up to see her.

“Doctor’s can be wrong,” Jared argues, and it’s taking every bit inside him not to crack on that admission. His arms drop into his lap bonelessly.

“Yeah,” Sandy nods, linking her arm under Jared’s. “Just because he was wrong earlier and had to find another way—Jay, that doesn’t mean, he’s wrong now. You know that. Think you also know Jensen would feel just awful knowing he’s the reason you’re not taking care of yourself.”

Jared bows his head, and he knows he should tell Sandy to take her hand away. But, he doesn’t. “I know you weren’t trying to screw me over. Just felt like it.”

Shit. Fuck. That’s not where he wants to go with this. He’s mad, dammit. Yeah, he’s fucking pissed at her. Well, kind of. He’s had time to think it over, and yeah, he gets it. Doesn’t like it, but he’s never really understood how she could always be so damn understanding when he was acting like the biggest asshole in the room. It’s part of why he loves—loved her.

“I’m worried you’re going to get a bed here yourself,” Sandy admits, and Jared can see the unshed tears in the corners of her eyes. “When’s the last time you ate something or actually slept, Jay?”

“I got a few last night.” Jared mutters, ignoring the disbelieving look he gets from Sandy. “Not really hungry.”

“Still doesn’t mean you don’t eat,” Sandy returns with a sigh. “It’s one thing to worry about what ifs. It’s another to let that overrun everything when things are looking up.”

“Can’t stop,” Jared feels his countenance crumble, and he turns away, leaning his head against the cool metal railing. “All I think about.”

“I know, baby,” Sandy edges closer, her fingers sliding up his back and neck to twirl Jared’s matted hair the she knows has always calmed and comforted him. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t keep doing this.” And it’s the god’s honest truth. He’s fucking exhausted. Bad coffee and crazed, out of check emotions, are doing nothing but confusing him more.

“I know,” Sandy repeats and inwardly, Jared cringes, because no, she doesn’t. His gut clenches when the thought hits him that maybe she doesn’t have to. He’s managed to hide this for years. His stomach tosses and his mouth grows sour when he realizes that maybe Kane’s right. Maybe he is just too scared to admit the truth.

XXXXXX

Release Me 7

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 00:02:09 GMT

Title: Release Me

Author: 3rd-leg

Rating: 14 for now

Disclaimer: Don't even own the horse I rode in on.

Pairing: J2. Sick!Jensen, Stressed to the gill!Jared

Summary: Jensen's finally reaching the start line, and Jared's about to run off the track.

A/N: It's been forever, and I'm so sorry. Was going to post this as one thing but ended up having people talk me into posting what I had worked on towards the ending! I hope this was worth it....but maybe it's not! lol

Jared fights the heavy lull of his head and wonders if there’s a Guinness world record for most continuous days without sleep. He’d win. Hands down world champ. He bets he’d get a medal or something, like super shiny. Maybe gold. Wait. A trophy. That’d be cooler.

“Yeah,” somebody agrees aloud, and Jared laughs ‘cause see he’s not the only one. He laughs again when he shifts in the chair just the right way to create the perfect waft of Eau de PadaYucky. Showers are overrated, and so is shaving for that matter. Well, pretty much anything other than sitting his ass in the plastic chair and watching Jensen like a mother fucking hawk.

It’s working though. His laser stare, it’s damn better than any heat vision Clark Kent could cook up. Jared’s already made up for the two small times he missed the Jensen eye flutter/roll millisecond ‘cause of…okay, the hole in the men’s bathroom wall two floors down sums up how well he’s coping with that betrayal. He’s got a plan that involves him and Jensen and maybe that SWAT gear from the bank episode to enact their revenge though. Seriously, it’s on paper.

So, whatever, his point is that Jensen’s woke up just for him, so Jared’s made up for not being there the first few times. Its intermittent minutes of quasi alert, but still its worth noting.

Jared yawns and leans forward, craning his neck to see if the nurse’s coffee station has a fresh pot or not. God, the cafeteria should be open 24 hours at a fucking hospital. His blurry vision almost misses the smallest of green peeking out under Jensen’s eyelashes.

“Dude!” Jared shrieks like a damn teenager, and yeah, okay, it is what it is. Deal with it.

Jensen blinks, slow, as if it takes every fiber in his being to do just that. His eyes roll lazily, peeking in and out from half-mast eyelids. He’s still on the ventilator, still ghoulishly pale, still fighting the fading remnants of a fever, but dammit, Jared thinks Jensen never looked better. “Hey. Hey, Jensen.”

Jared’s fingertips brush the side of Jensen’s forehead, tracing the hairline gently. The touch is electric, the feel of skin under skin, free from static Nitrile glove safety precautions. “Morning, sunshine.”

And there it is that damn manic laugh. Jared twitches and swallows it back down. Jensen’s watching him, sort of. Jared doesn’t get how Jensen’s eyes can be focused on him, watching him move, but then, still look so empty. So not-Jensen.

There’s an uncomprehending groan trapped in Jensen’s throat, and his quick head jerk sums up how he’s feeling about what’s going on. Jared grabs hold of Jensen’s hand and squeezes tenderly, but firmly. He’s hoping Jensen gets the message. They’ve played this game a lot of times in the past few days. Jared’s frankly getting a little tired of Jensen’s reluctance to participate. “C’mon, dude, you gotta give me…us something.”

Jared quickly glances at the clock-2:42-and sighs. “Okay, well, your mom and dad are living in your apartment. Told you not to hide your porn in old DVDs.” Jensen’s eyes narrow and Jared would swear on his grandpop’s grave that’s a fucking neon sign Jensen’s paying attention.

For the life of him, Jared can’t remember what he talked about until 2:56 when Jensen cast him a small side glance before falling asleep. Fourteen minutes. Jared pulls the wadded cafeteria napkin out of his jean pocket and shuffles over to the counter. He snags the ballpoint pen from its place next to the tower of bendy straws. Don’t ask.

Crumpled paper presses against the counter top as he shakily writes down the time range at the bottom of today’s numbers. Fourteen minutes. Jared smiles so hard his chin quivers. Jensen’s setting some records of his own.

XXXXX

“Could be nothing. Just been out a long time so it takes a long time waking up. Registering things.” Jared mumbles to no one in particular although makes sure it’s damn loud enough for Alan and Christian to hear in the far corner of the room.

Alan inhales sharply. “Doctor also said it could be brain damage.”

Chris wisely stays silent, but Jared keeps mumbling.

“He’ll be fine. He’s fine. Nothing wrong. You’ll see.”

XXXXX

They pull the tube out on Wednesday. It’s lodged free, and Jensen sits there, propped up and audience enraptured. He doesn’t do a damn thing.

The doctor places himself directly in Jensen’s line of sight, blocking his view of Jared and his nail biting parents, dramatically sucking in a deep breath. The graying man holds it for a long second before exhaling loudly. Jensen tilts his head. The doctor repeats the action. It feels like eons, but then, it clicks.

Jensen drags in a raw shallow bit of air. He’s coughing uncontrollably on the exhale, but everyone else in the room looks about ready to tackle him with pride, so maybe it counts for something. It wears him out, and he hesitates, struggling to grasp what could knock him on his ass so bad. It doesn’t come, and he reminds himself to take another breath.

XXXXX

“Whatcha looking at?” Jared asks, studying the heavy lull of Jensen’s head as it’s drooped down, chin to chest, as Jensen’s eyes roam.

Jared leans forward and kneels beside the bed. His long, thin fingers brush the side of Jensen’s face. Jensen never looks up, but Jared follows his line of sight, grinning in pride as he watches Jensen’s chest rise and fall in steady rhythm.

He lightly lifts Jensen’s head and wavers slightly when Jensen’s giving him the far off, barely aware stare. He lets go tentatively, terribly afraid Jensen’s heads just gonna roll. It doesn’t, thank God. “Good to know you’re doing it yourself, huh?”

Jensen blinks. Jared sighs and tenderly shakes Jensen’s hand, playfully gripping the fingers.

He nearly screams for joy when he feels the shaky clasp of Jensen’s IV hand in return.

XXXXX

Jensen’s not clear on why his momma is draped across his chest, sobbing worse than the time he told her he was moving out. He thinks maybe he should hug her, comfort her, but his arms aren’t really cooperating. Nothing is, to be entirely honest. It bothers him, almost as much as the three IV needles piercing his arms.

“’S okay, ma,” the strained whisper startles his momma, and she sits up.

“You—You, oh, you know me? You’re okay?”

His dad grips his shoulder tightly in fatherly affection and digs in his front pant pocket for the handkerchief Jensen knows has always been there.

Alan hands Donna the stitched cloth and smiles, but Jensen can see the watery film over his eyes. What the fuck happened? “Glad you finally joined the land of the living there, son.”

Jensen clears his throat with a grimace. His hope that he managed to hide it better than the last time is nulled when his mother is face to face with him all ready to airplane him an ice chip off a spoon. He takes it none the less, letting the cool ice momentarily dispel the dry, sour taste in his mouth. “Must’ve been a hell of a week, eh?”

Donna ducks her head, busying herself with reorganizing the ice in the Styrofoam cup. Alan simply nods, but he’s scratching his face. Jensen knows that tell like he knows Chris hums when the guy’s been dealt a good poker hand. Something’s not right.

He has ever intention of calling them on it, but his fucking useless body launches an attempt to pull him back under. Jensen’s given up on fighting it, because what’s two more minutes if it’ll make him sleep an extra hour to make up for it.

He wishes he would’ve tried to stay awake when he catches sight the Jared’s back in the corner. He looks thinner, Jensen thinks. Jared’s staring at the clock, scrawling something down, and that settles it. Jensen knows they’re all hiding something.

XXXXX

Alan sinks heavily into the plastic waiting room chair with a sigh. “I’m just saying it’d be better if we—“

“Lied to him.” Jared interjects, shoving his trembling hands into his pockets and purposefully avoiding Chris’ frustrated glance.

Donna places her right hand on Jared’s knee and her left hand caresses Jared’s stubbled chin, directing him to look at her. “Jensen’s been through a lot. We all have. I just want him better. And if that means we keep a few details to ourselves for a while, then…”

Jared grits his teeth, his voice hissing through the tight clench. “He’s not an idiot and he’ll be more pissed later.”

“I’d rather him be pissed and able to handle it, then overdo it and relapse,” Alan replies with an air of finality. Donna and Chris both nod their agreement and Jared bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood. “You don’t have to like it, but please, for now, respect it.”

Jared rolls his shoulders back, fingers tapping the arm rest in rapid staccato. His eyes dart back and forth between the three people in front of him. And that’s it. Jared’s certain another moment in this room and his skin is going to crawl off. Thankfully, this time no one tries to stop him as he stalks out the door.

XXXXX

“I fucking told you not to call me again!” the booming voice makes Jensen’s ears ring. He’s gotten so used to gentle whispers. He blinks awake and furrows his brow when he sees Jared huddled in corner, peering through the curtain like he’s on a covert mission, cell phone to his ear.

Jensen works to turn his head and sighs when the large bay window doesn’t reveal anything but pitch black. Jared snaps to attention, turning toward Jensen, his expression morphing between pissed and happy. “I gotta go. No, I’m hanging up.”

And he does. Jensen follows the phone’s trajectory as it flies from Jared’s hand to land with a dull thud on the side chair. He feels Jared’s hand in his, and Jensen’s arm tremors to complete the action of returning the grip. He knows the best he did was maybe move his fingertips, but Jared grins, his eyes soft. “You’ll get there. Doctor says that he wants to start physical therapy before Friday. Have you running around in no time. You’ll see.”

“How long?” Jensen murmurs softly, testing his sore throat. All systems sense no problem and he repeats himself, stronger this time. “How long?”

“Seven hours,” Jared replies, and turns to sit down on the edge of the bed. He never releases Jensen’s hand, but if Jensen’s not going to comment on it then Jared sure ain’t.

Jensen shakes his head. “No. How long?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, okay?” Jared frowns, but slides closer. He playfully ruffles Jensen’s hair. “You need a hair cut.”

“No, you know-” Jensen starts accusingly, he breathes deep and his stomach tosses at the sharp smell radiating from Jared. He shuts his eyes, breathing steadily to fight the nausea back.

“Jensen.” It’s hesitant, and Jared swallows back panic at the pained features of his friend. “Jensen, open your eyes.”

Jensen acquiesces a moment later, and feels the throbbing pulse of his blood in his ears. “Found my cigarettes, huh?” Jared’s chin quivers and that’s so not what Jensen expected. “Jay?”

Jared looks away, forehead scrunching and lips forming a tight line. Jensen knows that save face look. He hates it. “Already got the lecture, man.”

“Not what…Jay, you know that’s not where I was going,” Jensen heaves a deep inhale. Note to self: attempting longer sentences leaves him breathless. He feels Jared pull his hand away. Jensen reaches, or rather feels the burn of his shoulder and forearm muscles in the attempt. Maybe he made some progress because Jared’s at least looking at him again and regains contact. “W-why?”

Jared doesn’t answer right away. He peers into Jensen’s eyes with a blinkless stare. Jensen shifts, unnerved by the lingering gaze. “Uh…Sandy and I broke up.”

Jared says it likes it doesn’t affect him one damn bit and Jensen’s fingertips dig into Jared’s hand because he’s seen Jared try to block it all out before. It sucks that’s all he can do ‘cause really everybody needs a hug after something like that. Especially if hugs are a main way said person communicates in the first place.

“Sorry, man. I mean,” a short inhale and a loud cough, “Wouldn’t have guessed how she acted about you coming to see her the other day.”

Jared drops his head and lets out a shuddering breath that visibly racks his chest. Jensen shifts nervously. “What? It’s okay I can handle it.”

“No,” Jared mutters bitterly, releasing Jensen’s hand. “You can’t, Jen.”

“You look like shit too,” Jensen retaliates as haughtily as he can manage. Granted, he hasn’t really seen himself in the mirror yet, but he can guess at how bad he must look just off of how he feels. Jared, on the other hand, Jensen can see Jared and either his friend’s gone on anorexic and forayed into black eye liner or Jared’s struggling and taking it just as well as him.

“A lots happened. That’s all.” Jared murmurs, grabbing the cup of ice chips on the bed tray and stabbing the plastic spoon into the cup again and again.

“Like what?” Jensen snaps his mouth shut in defiance when Jared tries to shut him up with a spoonful of half-melted ice.

Jared shrugs and watches the ice slide off the spoon and plop back into the cup. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to fix it. It’s done. Just thought you should know.”

Jensen nods, and does his best to slide over in the bed. He pats the freed space next to him. Jared smirks and slides into the bed, knees twisted and feet hanging off the edge. Fire spreads all over Jensen’s arm, shoulder, and chest as he tries to lift his arm.

He gets maybe a centimeter off the sheets, but Jared helps him the rest of the way. It’s uncomfortable, his arm draped over Jared’s shoulders. The IV lines pull in disagreement and his muscles scream for relief, but all it takes is one look at Jared’s trembling body and tear stained cheeks for Jensen to decide he’s never moving from this spot.

“It’ll be alright.” Jensen whispers, and Jared shuts his eyes. “You’ll see.”

“It already is,” Jared murmurs into Jensen’s chest.

This time, Jensen fights the exhaustion. He doesn’t give in until he hears Jared’s soft snoring.

XXXXX

Release Me (6/?)

Tue, 16 Dec 2008 21:34:06 GMT

Title: Release Me

Author: 3rd_leg

Rating: PG-14

Summary: Part 6 of the Release Me verse. Sick!Jensen Angsty!Jared

Disclaimer: It's on my Christmas List, but I'm thinking I'd have to take a pilgrimage to the North Pole to make sure that request is um..handled correctly.

Release Me (6/?)

And I walk and I fall ‘til I can't feel a thing. I am sick of the sound of my own shattered mind. I don't know who I am. I don't know where we all will be. – “Happy Endings” David Usher

The smell of the room is unfamiliar, a dull clean scent that he struggles to identify. He twists in the too warm sheets and struggles to open his eyes. He blinks, sees nothing but fuzzy round blobs and something that looks like a tree. The tree is talking, kind of, it’s muffled and Jensen is too damn exhausted to attempt to make out the words.

He tries to fight off the blankets, but a searing pain all over his leaden limbs thanks him for the effort. On the up side, his brain is bordering alert now. Jensen chooses to swat at the covers until something moves off of him. He jerks in surprise when the tree stretches out its limbs to stop him and pulls the covers off.

The grip on his hand is firm, grounding, and Jensen wants to express his thanks but suddenly realizes that he can’t. Shit, he can’t. There’s something choking him, the rhythm in his chest one he can’t keep time with.

His heart pounds in his chest quietly agonizing. He grunts to express it, unsure if the tree got the message. If it didn’t god knows the screeching wail coming from somewhere nearby filled in the blanks because the grip is gone and a voice growing louder and louder penetrates the fog suffocating him.

He’s not sure how much time passes before the darkness claims him again.

XXXX

“Whu?” Jared grumbles as hands wrap around his torso, pulling him. He closes one eye and tries to convince his other one to focus.

“I should’ve let you fall out the bed.”

Ah, yes. His savior and knight who better watch his fucking ass because once Jared can get outta bed, well, Chris just better not turn his back. Jared wipes at his eyes furiously.

“What time is it?” Jared murmurs, sliding his tongue across the desert dry roof of his mouth and chapped lips.

Chris cracks the knuckles on his right hand. “Ten after three.”

Jared lets out a massive yawn, and wrinkles his nose as he catches a good foul whiff of stale nicotine and liquor. His visions cleared enough to catch the smug smirk on Chris’ face, and Jared’s muddled brain goes from half speed to full capacity.

“You fuckin’ jerk.” Jared bites his bottom lip firmly as he works to slide over to the edge of the bed.

Chris plants a firm hand to Jared’s chest and Jared’s only moderately embarrassed it doesn’t take more than a light shove to push him down. “I’ll take that as a thank you.”

“Slept too long. Gotta get back.” Jared mutters, and moves toward the edge of the bed again. This time Chris doesn’t stop him and Jared doesn’t really know what to make of that. His knee throbs as he swings his legs to the floor. Jared looks down past the edge of his boxers to see a spectacularly bluish purple stain where his kneecap used to be.

“I’d wait there, Padalecki,” Chris comments, a warning mixed with an impending I told you so.

Fuck him, Jared decides and pushes up. He inhales sharply against the pulsating agony that his leg and feels himself swaying. Chris’s hands are there, but Jared swats them away. He totally blames Christian Kane for distracting his efforts and making him slam into the nightstand.

“Just leave me the fuck alone!” Jared demands in the loudest roar his throbbing head can handle, clawing at the small table for support.

Miraculously, Chris does.

XXXXX

It takes Jared about mid-way through scrubbing his gritted teeth to realize the bathroom he’s in is his very own. He’s home. He finds it odd because really it doesn’t feel it should to be in his sanctuary. It feels empty. Just like everything else.

He spits and rinses, then lifts his head. He needs to shave and a pair of aviator sunglasses to hide the dark circles and bloodshot appearance of his eyes. He looks and feels old, shoulders drooped and back hunched as if his world truly is resting there. Jared gives his reflection an unsteady, closed-lip smile before wobbling out into the hallway.

The more Jared teeters the looser his paining joint feels and Jared makes it to the living room without much hassle. Chris is planted on the sofa, drinking coffee and watching John Wayne on TMC. Jared sinks into the recliner, hands folded in his lap like he’s waiting on a scolding from the principal.

“I hope you showered.” Chris states, his focus never leaving the screen as he takes a drink from the mug.

Jared rolls his eyes, because no, he did not. Thank you fucking much, and Chris ain’t his momma. “No time. I’ll take one after I go see Jensen.”

Chris sighs long and deep. Jared thinks maybe he’s missing something. He was out for a long time, anything—oh shit, oh shit. Jared sucks in a rapid breath and his heart thuds against his ribcage in a violent threat to burst free. Jared’s up and slamming his thumb against the TV’s power button before the action registers with his brain.

“I wanna know what the hell is going on!” Jared snaps, and figures it probably would’ve sounded better if the words hadn’t come out so fucking desperate.

Chris sets down his mug and tucks a loose strand of long hair behind his ear as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. Jared swallows nervously. “Sit.”

Jared doesn’t readily comply with that order, but decides his overall health is safer than his stubbornness when Chris rises from the sofa. “Okay, okay.”

Jared’s butt hits the recliner before Chris too, sits back. “You ain’t gonna like it,” Chris begins, and Jared nervously brings his thumbnail to his teeth. “But you know, we all decided it was the best thing to do.”

“Not following, Kane.” Jared shifts anxiously, and God this must be what Hell feels like because waiting to get fucking answers is the worst kind of torture he’s ever experienced.

“It’s been almost two days, Padalecki.” Chris says matter-of-factly, and Jared stops. Freezes like a damn statue, mouth open and eyes wide.

“What?”

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, look I’m pretty sure you can’t remember the last time you actually slept outside of today ‘cause no body else can either. Alcoholism don’t count as quality rest and I ain’t the smartest man in the world, but I figure half your problems the past week is ‘cause you ain’t been.”

Jared straightens, back rigid and teeth clenched. “What’s your point?”

“Point is Sandy cleaned your ass up after you woke up and puked all over yourself and your bed.” Chris returns firmly, and Jared’s sure his face shows the bewilderment his brain’s going through trying to remember that event. “I don’t expect you to recall it. Gave you more than aspirin, Padalecki.”

Jared blinks in confusion, then bolts upright and across the room toward Chris. His hand grips the collar of Chris’ tee and it takes less effort than Jared thought it would to pin the man to the couch. “You fucking drugged me? How the hell is that supposed to help? Huh? I asked you a fuckin’ question, Kane!”

“Let go.” Chris locks Jared’s furious stare with one of his own, and wraps his fingers around Jared’s wrist. “I’m not going to tell you again.”

Jared releases his hold, but takes to manically pacing to give his rage an outlet that doesn’t involve kicking a size 13 hole in the side of Chris’ head. Chris rubs his neck and stands, keeping a decent distance away.

“You needed it, and I ain’t sorry,” Chris smoothes out his shirt. “I ain’t gonna be the one to blame when Jensen asks how you’re doing.”

Jared halts, and turns a needy almost frightened glance over toward Chris. “Jensen’s alright?”

“Got a call this morning. Seems our boy finally decided to wake his ass up.” Chris informs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his face that Jared wants to share with him and slap Chris for having all at the same time. He must look too hopeful, ‘cause Chris frowns. “A lotta alarms went off soon after. Alan said he’d call when he found anything else out.”

Jared ponders the new information, and lets his heart cling to the small fraction of hope. Jensen’s fighting. He is, god, Jared’s heart knows he is. His brain, however, is full of all the things that could go wrong. Jared threads shaky hands through his tacky, sweaty hair, twisting and pulling at the locks as if the action will remove all horrible possibilities from his mind.

“Tell me you don’t need a drink that bad.” Chris grabs Jared’s arm, eyeing the still quivering hand.

Jared wants to pull away, and in his mind, rightfully rip Chris a new one, but he can’t seem to muster the energy anymore and his knee would quite possibly betray him if he tried. He’s drained, emotionally and physically. Judging by the way Chris is staring at him, Jared knows that Chris can see it all too clear.

“Smoke,” Jared whispers, pulling his hand away and clenching his fist to stop the tremors.

“Yeah, Sandy told me you picked up the habit,” Chris smirks in mirror to Jared’s pensive frown. Chris’ hand claps him on the shoulder, squeezing the muscle there in friendly affection. “Welcome to the team.”

Jared manages a smirk at that and follows Chris out onto the small deck.

XXXX

The butane flame flickers weakly. Jared’s going to need to buy a new lighter the rate he’s been smoking. Chris settles down on the plastic deck chair and pulls out his Pall Malls. Not Jared’s first choice, but it’ll do. He lights one for himself and leans over to light Chris before taking a place against the ledge of the deck.

“This calm you down?” Chris asks, cigarette pinned between his teeth.

Jared nods, studying the grass below them. “Something to do, you know?”

Chris blows out a wispy stream of smoke and smiles lazily. “Now you just sound like Jensen.”

Jared turns around, sees the reminiscent look in Chris’ eyes and can’t bring himself to consider looking at the grass again. “Yeah?”

“Never seen somebody get so worked up when they supposed to be having fun,” Chris shakes his head, but the fondness in his voice is impossible to miss. “First time he had a network party, he smoked a whole pack of mine ‘til he puked. Told me the same thing. Something to do…”

“He doesn’t smoke much anymore,” Jared comments softly, nudging his bare toes into the wooden deck slats.

Chris flicks off the gathering ashes at the end of his cigarette. “Doesn’t have to.”

Jared meets Chris’ stare then, and clears his throat suddenly feeling all kinds of transparent. “I know better.”

Chris drops the cigarette on the deck and squashes it with the heel of his boot. “What we think is better and what actually is ain’t always the same thing. If you get me.”

Jared’s answer is simply an exhale of smoke and Chris interlocks his fingers, resting them against the back of his neck. “You said you lied to him.”

Jared shakes his head furiously, ignoring the rattling sensation of dizziness it brings. “No, I didn’t.”

Chris reaches out, smacking Jared’s arm to elicit the man’s attention. “You can’t say something like that to me and leave me hanging. Tell me so I won’t kill ya later when Jensen finds out the hard way.”

“You’d tell him before he had the chance,” Jared returns and smirks when Chris laughs in agreement. “It’s stupid.”

Chris’ countenance turns solemn. “Doubt it.”

“I-I told him I wanted to marry Sandy,” Jared admits, flicking his cigarette to the deck.

“She got a ring on her finger, don’t she?” Chris questions and Jared stares at his feet.

“We were drifting apart. And I didn’t want to think--I kept thinking, maybe it’s the distance. So, I should fix it. The distance I mean, that would make it better. Us being closer and all,” the words fly out of Jared’s mouth quickly and he pauses to catch his breath. “I messed up before…before—“

“You fell for Jensen?” Chris interjects and Jared nods, blinking back the burning behind his eyes.

“My mom couldn’t even look at me for a week,” Jared mutters, breath leaving a lot faster than it was coming. “My family loves Sandy. She’s perfect.”

“Ever consider perfect for them ain’t perfect for you?” Chris inquires bluntly, standing and making his way toward the sliding door.

“I can’t choose between them,” Jared argues, stomping out the cigarette roughly. “This is better for everybody.”

Chris shrugs his shoulders. “You talk to Jensen bout it?”

Jared gapes in muted horror. “He doesn’t know about...He doesn’t know and I’m not going to dump my shit on him like that.”

“Then you don’t know if it’s better for everybody or not,” Chris argues, gesturing for Jared to get inside the house. “C’mon, eat something, and we’ll go.”

XXXXX

The first thing Jared sees when the elevator doors slide open is Sandy looking as guilty as Judas Iscariot. He averts his gaze, and barrels down the hallway toward the waiting room. Jared knows she’s following him, and probably using Chris as a fucking body shield, but he’s too preoccupied with Jensen’s well being to care.

Alan is in the doorway to the waiting room as Jared turns the corner. He smiles and Jared is fairly certain that he hasn’t seen that expression cross the elder Ackles in ages.

“Thank you,” Alan whispers shakily, and embraces Jared in a fierce hug. Jared returns the gesture, but doesn’t understand why all the shit he pulled is worth a thanks.

“Heard Jensen woke up,” Jared states, pulling away from Alan, eyes searching Jensen’s father’s face for details.

Alan nods, wiping at his eyes. “Yeah, they started those new antibiotics and uh, they seemed to be working. So, they reduced the sedative too. His fever dropped. Donna and I were in there with him. Never thought I’d be happy to see my son scared, Jared.”

“Scared?” Jared glances past Alan, staring out at the small family crowd over the man’s shoulder. Might as well ask the entire group, because scared is not the reaction Jared wanted to hear.

“Doctor said that’s normal coming out of something like that. Disorientation and all.” Donna comforts from the back corner. “They let us stay in there most of the morning. He woke up better the second time, only a few minutes, but still it’s something, right?”

Jared rolls his bottom lip under his teeth, casting a stare over his shoulder to the traitorous duo behind him. “Yeah, it is. Can I—I mean, is someone in there now? Or—you know?”

Donna’s small smile fades and Alan clears his throat. Jared looks between the two, trying to ignore the cold sweat beading on his palms and forehead. Jensen’s gonna have hell to pay for turning him into a nervous wreck.

“His fever spiked earlier this afternoon,” Alan reveals and Jared’s stomach churns violently. “Not a lot. But enough that the doctor’s want to make sure he doesn’t have a…uh…”

“Secondary infection,” Donna interjects softly.

“Yeah,” Alan nods, “Sorry, son. But the doctors said that until they figure that out, he’s going to postpone visiting hours. Trust me, none of us are too happy about that. But if it’ll help Jensen then…”

Jared wordlessly holds up his hands to stop Alan’s rambling. Alan steps out of the doorway and Jared knows he should take a seat next to the family and join in the vigil. The rage pulsating through his body won’t let him. He turns on his heels, opening his mouth to scream when he sees Chris and Sandy pressed against the far wall looking ready to bolt.

Nothing comes out, his brain can’t form the words his heart so desperately wants to let loose. He doesn’t even chide himself for wanting to kill them, nor congratulate himself for not doing so when he flees toward the stairway exit.

Release Me (5/?)

Sun, 23 Nov 2008 20:30:40 GMT

Release Me (5/?)

Author: 3^rd_leg

Rating: PG-14

Summary: Part 5 of the Release Me verse. Sick!Jensen, Seriously Angsting/Depressed!Jared

Disclaimer: How I wish someone would at least lie to me and tell me they’re mine.

People change their ways when there's nothing left to lose – “Unfamiliar Ceilings” Fightstar

Jared was five years old the day he managed to scrawl out his full name. He vaguely remembers what it felt like to stare at the result of what four tongue-pinched-between-teeth minutes left on the lined paper. It was him, block lettered and barely legible, but it stated who he was for everybody to see and be proud of him. Nothing’s that simple anymore and these consent forms sure as hell aren’t going to be posted on his refrigerator at home.

Pen meets paper, then snaps back so hard the pages bend. Jared brushes manically at the tiny speck of black ink just above the signature line. There’s water dripping onto the page and Jared sure as hell couldn’t tell you where that’s coming from, but he swipes at that as well.

“Would you like some more time?”

“Was under the impression we didn’t have any,” Jared lifts his head and stares down the petite concerned nurse. There’s a scratching in his throat and a burning in his lungs. His legs are shaking, his fingers cramping and fuck, he needs a smoke.

The nurse scrunches her nose and sighs, but flips open Jensen’s file, and shit, Jared never noticed how thick that thing was getting. She holds out her hand for the consent forms. Jared feels at least one atmosphere of pressure release off his shoulders as she snaps the rings shut.

XXXXX

Jared slides the glass door closed, taking a long look out at the nurse’s station before pulling the plaid courtesy curtain shut. Pride’s all he’s got at this point. God forbid, he loses it on account of a prying nursing staff. Taking a deep breath, Jared turns on his heel, and blinks back tears.

Jensen looks the same, and maybe that should be a relief. It’s not, because Jared sees different IV bags and lower numbers on the monitor. There’s cold packs wrapped around Jensen’s arms and legs. Jared edges closer and realizes that one is wrapped around Jensen’s torso as well. He remembers the doctor telling them about a cool down routine, ten minutes on, ten off, if nothing else to keep Jensen’s brain from frying. Since Jared happens to like Jensen’s brain, no matter how much weird shit is stored up in it, he isn’t going to complain about them.

However, what Jared is going to complain about is that Jensen looks dead. Rigid and stiff like a damn corpse. Jared’s not an expert but he’d think that Jensen would at least be able to hold his hand. Okay, not that Jared is trying to interlock their fingers or anything, well, maybe just a little.

“So…uh, I was thinking earlier about when we were filming that shapeshifter episode and I was all worried ‘cause I thought I’d hurt you with the whole fighting stuff. You remember that?”

Jared studies Jensen’s chapped lips and growing stubble. His gloved fingers brush along the bottom of Jensen’s jaw line tenderly, and Jared contemplates bringing a razor with him next time to save Jensen from Forest Face.

“You told me you could handle it, and not to worry about hurting you ‘cause I wouldn’t mean it.” Jared swallows back the lump in his throat and sniffs. “Jen—if this hurts you, if I…I’d mean it you know? It’d be my fault, and I can’t. God, Jensen. What do they fucking know? The stuff they have you on now is supposed to work! And it doesn’t fucking work!”

So, Jared knows he’s yelling, but the door’s closed. That means the outside world can’t hear, right? Jensen’s monitor gives a two-toned ping and Jared instantly feels guilty. “I’m sorry. Not mad at you, okay? And I know they want to do this to help. I know that. I do. ‘S why I have to.”

Okay, so maybe he knows it, but that doesn’t make it one bit easier to swallow the magnitude of what the doctor wants him to sign off on. “I-I need you to fight. Just hang in there, and don’t leave. Please, don’t leave. ‘Cause I--.”

There’s a gasping break in Jared’s voice that he chokes on. “Can’t. I can’t. Not like this.”

Jared peers over his shoulder, a precautionary check to maintain that the curtain is still in place and leans over, gloved hand smoothing out the excess material on his protective gown. Tears brim in his red-rimmed eyes as he tilts his head and positions his body just right so he can press a soft kiss to Jensen’s fevered forehead.

Jared almost wishes Jensen’s eyes would pop open and he’d get surprised but returned emotion. He feels heartwrenchingly guilty that Jensen being near death is the only way he can even begin to express his need for Jensen to be in his life.

XXXXX

Sandy’s waiting for him outside the ICU doors. Her arms are crossed and her lips a thin line like she does when she’s getting ready to tell Jared something she knows is going to make him angry. Jared grits his teeth, but is too worn out to really muster up any sense of caring.

“Don’t make them stress over this, Jar. Just sign, okay? They want you to.”

“He’s gonna die, Sandy.”

“Baby, I’m taking you home.” Sandy states firmly, crossed arms breaking and hands resting on her hips. “You have to sleep and get something in you other than coffee and, god help me, nicotine.”

Jared’s eyes squint in surprise and he hates the smug smirk on Sandy’s face. “You reek of smoke, Jared.”

“It’s not that bad.” Jared argues, pulling up the collar of his shirt and sniffing the sharp scent. Okay, so maybe it was embedded pretty good. “It calms me down.”

“You never needed them before,” Sandy counters, face softening as she moves closer. “Jar, you gotta stop this. It isn’t good for you, okay? You can’t take all this on yourself.”

“Don’t have a choice,” Jared pulls away when Sandy tries to wrap her arms around him. “I did what ya’ll wanted me to do. So, why don’t you take care of letting people know?”

“Jared, I’m not trying to—“ Sandy grabs Jared’s arm tightly, holding fast even when Jared gives a hard jerk that nearly knocks her off balance. “I’m worried about you. We all are dealing with the fact that we could lose Jensen, but Jared…baby, I can’t—I can’t lose you too.”

“I’m not the one in the hospital bed,” Jared argues, and steps back when he feels Sandy’s grip on his arm loosen.

“Where are you going?” Sandy asks quietly and undemanding. Jared hates when she does that. It’s some twisted kind of manipulation to get him to talk. He always falls for it, except tonight. He refuses to answer and heads toward the elevators.

XXXXX

A bottle of Jack and two packs of cigarettes don’t make up a Delorean. Seriously, Jared’s tried, even put it to the test in his truck at 88 miles per hour. In his defense the fence moved, that or the road curved after he decided to go straight.

Anyways, beside the point, ‘cause the truck is hissing his stupidity and Jared’s sure the folded, bent hood of the car is a reflection of what his leg has to look like judging by how it feels. He would try to take a gander at it, but he’s not really seeing much right now except black spots and distorted bits of his car.

He’s heard enough drunk driving ads to know its stupid, but he had to get back to the hospital. Time got away, and he has to apologize to Jensen for letting it. And try to take back what he did. God, he signed, and what if…well, if it came to that, then Jared was right to get drunk off his ass because there is no way in hell he’d take that news sober.

His phone is somewhere on the floor. He should call for help, the road was empty, or he thinks it was. The fire in his chest makes him not even care about trying to remember. Jared slumps back in the driver’s seat, letting his eyes slide shut against the pain.

They startle open a second later, accompanied by a harsh pounding on the driver’s window and Chris’s angry glare through the glass.

“Go ‘way,” Jared murmurs, letting his head fall back on the bench seat.

The door squeals open and Jared feels the need to repeat himself because fuckin’ Christian Kane doesn’t listen. “Dammit to hell, Padalecki. You better not be fucking hurt.”

Jared’s swimming brain thinks that’s Kane speak for I’m so happy to find you alive, and a quivering grin crosses his face. “How ya find me?”

“Been looking for you for over two hours, decided to give up. Luck, I guess.” Christian’s voice sounds a ways off, and Jared tilts his head up to see three Chris’s checking out the front end of the truck. “I don’t think this is still driveable, Padalecki.”

Jared blinks heavily and nods. It’s the best he can do, and he’s too exhausted to care that he’s going to have to carpool for a couple days. Chris lets out a long sigh and Jared feels a warm hand press on his shoulder. “Alright, if anything’s broken we’ll find out, eh?”

“My leg,” Jared mumbles, and watches with hooded eyes as Chris leans over him and stares down near the pedals. The jeans scratch his leg as Chris checks it over.

“Just looks like you banged your knee pretty good.”

Fingers press into his ribcage and across his belly. “That hurt?” Chris asks tersely, but Jared can sense the apprehension and worry.

“Nah, I’m alright,” Jared wheezes, leaning all his weight onto Chris’ shoulder.

“Yeah yeah,” Chris mumbles. His shoulders tense suddenly and Jared jerks up, lips squeezing tight in a grimace when the drumming in his head takes on a whole new beat. “Shit.”

Jared can sort of make out the shape of a gray haired man wandering over in slippers and a robe. Chris all but drops Jared and walks over to meet the man. There’s a lot of loud talking that goes down, Jared chooses to close his eyes rather than see the discussion.

“You’re lucky I’m a smooth talker. Damn lucky.” Chris huffs, wrapping an arm around Jared and helping him slide off the bench seat. For Jared’s sake, Chris waits until he has both shaky legs on solid ground before ripping him a new one. “I should take your ass to the ER and get the cops called on you. You’re a stupid son of a bitch you know that? How’d that help, Jensen? He’d wake up and find out you killed yourself.”

“I know,” Jared snaps, trying to pull away, but his swelling knee buckles or maybe Chris just won’t let him go.

“No, I don’t think you do. Last time—Jensen’s lost to this kind of stupidity before.” Chris mutters bitterly, hoisting Jared’s lagging body up and half-dragging him to the passenger side of his truck. “From now until I say otherwise, you ain’t going anywhere without me, got it?

Jared opens his mouth to protest because dammit, he doesn’t need a babysitter. Chris cuts him off. “Don’t. Because tonight could’ve made a bad situation a whole new level of worse.”

It takes a minute or two for Chris to get them situated to get the passenger door open, and Jared safely buckled inside. Jared’s grateful for the few minutes of silence, and kind of wishes he’d just pass out already so he doesn’t have to hear the rest of the lecture he knows is coming when Chris slides in behind the driver’s seat.

“Why you care?” Jared slurs with as much heat as he can muster. He’s not a four year old, after all.

“You think Jensen would care?” Chris inquires rhetorically.

Jared slumps against the truck door. “Had to see Jen.”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t gonna be seeing him until you sober up,” Chris states with finality, reaching for his cell and finding Steve’s number. “Go to sleep. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Jared’s feeling indignant. It’s the usual side affect for his wasted evenings and repressed emotions, so he crosses his arms and forces his eyes wide. “He’s gotta know…the truth, he’s gotta know…”

“It’s gonna have to wait,” Chris chides, but softens his tone when he sees Jared’s panic at the idea.

“I lied to him and he’s gonna die. I lied to him.” Jared stammers, slowly losing the grip on the conscious world.

“Jen’s gonna make it, Jared. And you can tell him when he wakes up, alright?” Chris huffs a long sigh, and turns when he doesn’t get an immediate answer. He sighs again when he finds Jared passed out cold. “Fuck, Padalecki, what were you thinking?”

TBC

Please let me know what you think…I’m not sure this is the best update I’ve ever posted or even something that people can stand to read cause of how bad Jared’s getting but you know…You guys are the feedback that helps me out!

UPDATES FOR MY READERS/FRIENDS....

Wed, 19 Nov 2008 15:17:00 GMT

Hey all,

I apologize for profusely for my long termish style absense I've been pulling. Life's been kicking my ass, but things are starting to get cleared up and I got some more time on my hands! YEAH!

Anyways, as far as Release Me is concerned, I finished another chapter, and will have that posted by the end of the week, Sunday at the latest. I'm still not thrilled with it, so I'm self-editing. Thanks for that patience concerning that.

Okays, and regarding the deaf!Verse..I think I'm going to take prompts for that for a while. So if you have one you'd like to see, or for me to consider, please leave me a comment with your prompt and I'll see what I can do. It seems like that verse has become fairly popular, so yeah, want to write something you want to read.

Thanks for sticking with me!

Nobody's Listening

Tue, 30 Sep 2008 22:05:02 GMT

Title: Nobody's listening

Author: 3rd_Leg

Pairing: J2

Disclaimer: When you wish upon a star, make sure its actually a star, not some airplane flying overhead.

Rating: PG-14 (Language primarily)

Word Count: ~3000

Summary: Part 5 of the Deaf!Jared verse. This is based on the prompt by kuhekabir that plainly put entailed Jared getting hurt by Jensen, and Jensen making it up to him.

Nobody’s Listening

You whispered "I promise, I promise you". You held my hands tight. Comfort remains. – “Love Never Fails” Sleeping at Last

Jared slithers lower on the overstuffed green sofa, wishing the comfy furniture would swallow him whole. The game’s on, bright colored jerseys running across the screen silently. Jared palms the remote, turning it over in his hand and plays with the mute button.

Off. On. Off. On. The fact that it still doesn’t make a damn difference one way or the other pisses him off.

Red and green cloud the outside corners of Jared’s vision. He turns to see the Christmas lights above the door twinkling. Sadie and Harley barrel down the hallway, mouths panting and moving in pantomime. Jared watches their paws coast across the wooden floor and swallows back another wave of sulking.

And Jensen? Well, Jensen walks through the door fucking smiling.

“Hey,” he greets, bending down to give the dogs their much needed attention.

Jared casually offers a ‘What’s up’ sign, and turns back to the T.V. He sighs when he feels the couch take on Jensen’s weight, but doesn’t make any effort to give his boyfriend outright notice.

Jensen nudges his head into Jared’s shoulder playfully, mouth opening in a startled yelp when Jared jerks away. He bites his tongue and swats Jared’s arm. Jared shifts his gaze toward Jensen and his heart clenches at the badly hidden sympathy in those green eyes.

“That kind of day, huh?” Jensen questions, but they both know it’s rhetorical. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Sah ur deh s-suck,” Jared stammers, and shit he’s blinking back tears.

Jensen gently reaches out and brushes Jared’s cheek. “Didn’t use to. Why don’t we go out and do something?”

Jared rolls his eyes and stands. “S-stop t-that.”

“You’re losing your tan,” Jensen teases, but Jared can see the worry lines creeping across Jen’s forehead.

“Dun c-care,” Jared snaps, crossing his arms like a petulant four year old. So what if he hasn’t been going out on his cab rides lately, or left the house in um…well more than a week. Jensen doesn’t get it so Jensen can just deal with it.

Jensen’s giving him that look. The desperate, let me in stare that Jared can’t ever ignore. So he opts to do the next best thing and turns on heels, stomping his way toward the bedroom.

XXXXX

Something collides with Jared’s torso, and his eyes fly open, body jackknifing in the bed. Waking up startled is another facet of his fucked up life he hates. He’d scream it to the heavens, but Jensen’s standing in front of him, clad in a cut off tee and long Nike shorts, body shaking with silent laughter.

“Whu?” Jared rubs his eyes and searches for the object in question. His sight lands on the orange and black ball resting on Jensen’s side of the bed. Jared palms the basketball and rolls it in his hands.

Jensen taps Jared’s knee and signs that ‘he’s got an idea’. Jared quick passes the ball, and Jensen catches it easily. “It’s been a while, but I think I still got it.”

Jensen flicks the ball onto his fingertips, poorly attempting to spin it on his index finger. It’s goofy, and intended to be judging by the insane and unwarranted smile on Jensen’s face.

“I-I’m ass hul.” Jared mutters, eyes turning to stare at the photos on the wall.

Jensen crouches down to eye level. He sets the ball in Jared’s lap and signs ‘That’s true.’ Jared opens his mouth to protest, but Jensen seals it with a kiss, pulling back with a cheeky grin. “I love ya, anyway.”

Jared’s still got speed on his side and bounces the basketball lightly off of Jensen’s head. But Jensen’s fast too. Instead of retrieving the ball off the rebound, it’s swatted from Jared’s open hands.

Jared reaches for it, only to realize a second too late Jensen’s pouncing. And then, Jared’s pinned, stomach rising and falling in laughter. “Gun k-kick ya ass.”

“The guys at work all but freaked when I said we’d consider coming to play today.” Jensen plants another kiss to Jared’s neck before pulling back to rest on his elbows. “Normally, just tell ‘em no.”

Jared’s eyes widen at the revelation, his heart quickening in his chest. Not just him and Jensen. People. Other people. On a court somewhere surrounded by strangers.

Jensen must’ve picked up on the apprehension because his fingers stroke Jared’s hair in a way that always loosens every tense fiber in his being. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay. We can shoot around on the half court in the complex.”

And that right there is why Jared can’t help but love Jensen so damn much. “Nah, g-gotta meet dem s-sum time.”

Jensen’s face lights up like Christmas morning and he scrambles off the bed, offering Jared a hand up. “Thank you.”

Jared takes Jensen’s hand and lets his boyfriend pull him off the bed. Jensen’s worse than a five year old as he picks up the basketball, and starts dribbling toward the dogs. Jared watches with a smile as he searches for his favorite Adidas shorts. Maybe this will be alright. Hell, maybe this will be fun.

XXXXX

This is nowhere in the remote vicinity of fun. In Jared’s opinion, this is what hell feels like. It’s nearly impossible to keep up with so many lips to read. Besides, what they’re saying, or rather what Jared’s catching, isn’t exactly what he is prepared to learn.

Jensen does that head duck thing, and Jared drowns in the guilt and embarrassment over his condition like it’s the damn Genesis flood. He guesses he should be honored that Jensen is willing to subject his pride and take a job with a set crew so they can survive. He’s only slightly upset Jensen didn’t inform him of all his duties with the Vancouver film industry sooner.

Jared’s pouting all the more because first off, he’s not on Jensen’s team. Secondly, his team is the damn skins. God really does hate him if he can’t even ogle his boyfriend in a pick up game. And thirdly, that deaf team his J.V. squad played in high school made this shit look easy.

“Dammit!”

Jared sees the word on his teammate’s lips right before he feels the whoosh of air behind him. He turns in time to see the ball caught in the hands of the other team. That’s the third pass he’s missed in the past twenty minutes, but at least this one didn’t hit him in the head.

“S-saw-sa-ry.” Jared stammers anxiously, but his team mate’s have already started sprinting down the asphalt leaving him alone in the paint. Jared wipes his brow with shaky hands. His body’s sweating way more than usual and it has nothing to do with the sun.

He would tell Jensen he wants to go home, but Jensen’s at the other end of the court hooting and hollering over the fast break bucket. Jensen’s been doing a lot of that, and a hell of a lot less helping Jared keep up. Sure, they are opponents, but this isn’t a fucking championship title.

If it was, Jared’s ass would be benched. 14-9 and Jared hasn’t attributed to anything but the 14. And that’s Jensen’s teams score.

Ryan, at least Jared thinks that’s his name, passes the ball back in and David dribbles back down the court. Ryan makes a beeline for Jared and blocks him off when Jared tries to move toward the baseline.

“This your first game or something? C’mon!”

Ryan cuts out to the three point line, and Jared grits his teeth, raising a hand up for the ball. He gets the pass, but doesn’t hear the footsteps coming. He turns to face the basket only to get the ball swiped from his hands by nobody other than Jensen. Fuckin’ Benedict.

That’s it. Jared’s had it with this damn game. Not to mention this hearing world he’s lost in, and his fuckin’ boyfriend.

Jared’s sprinting down the court, and gaining ground. He anticipates Jensen’s reaction to his oncoming approach and reaches in, knocking Jensen to the pavement as he steals the ball.

Jensen scrapes across the asphalt, shock written all over his face. Jared hovers to the side, holding possession until someone from the other team grabs him and tells him that’s a foul. He can feign ignorance for at least another minute. It’s a perk of being the deaf man out.

“What the fuck was that, Jar?” Jensen demands while hustling to a stand, cheeks red and eyes blazing. One thing about Jensen Ackles the fans never did get to see, and that was his competitive streak. It’s the stuff of fuckin’ legend. A scary, win or go home legend.

“T-this ya fu-furst gu-gu me? C-cmun!” Jared taunts, slamming the ball to the ground and fast breaking toward his side of the court.

Jensen’s shoulders roll back and he starts after Jared. Jared bows his upper body and breaks through the other two defenders. Jared thinks he’s in the clear and starts his lay-up approach, his feet lifting from the ground as he releases the ball.

It’s the worst kind of non-elastic collision as Jensen slams into Jared propelling the both of them into the goal post. Jared screams out as his back connects with the steel pole and grunts in agony when Jensen’s momentum slams him into the post again.

Jared does his best to suck it up, and tries to limp off the court with some degree of dignity. He throws the gate open and storms off the best he can into the park. It’s weird but somehow he just knows Jensen’s behind him and Jared stops, letting his boyfriend pass him and then, turn around to face him.

“Jay,” Jensen starts, but Jared shakes his head, tongue between his teeth. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to slam you like that my foot caught—-Are you okay?”

It’s like everything’s boiling over and spilling out. Jared’s fingers start flying because damn, Jensen’s going to understand every bit of what he wants to say. ‘Fuck off.’

Jensen frowns, chest rising and falling heavily as he struggles to catch his breath. “Does it hurt?”

Jensen reaches but Jared flinches back, blinking fast to fight back rising tears. He’s not gonna cry, dammit. “I-I’m n-not dem, Jen. I c-can’t…” Jared pauses, and retreats to using his fingers to express himself. ‘They don’t understand, Jensen, so they don’t care. You know how hard it is for me and you didn’t even care. Didn’t ask if I was okay or confused. Just played the game like I was one you.’

“You are like us--me, Jared.” Jensen argues, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“I c-can’t he-hear,” Jared counters, clenching his jaw at the throbbing anguish that was his back.

Jensen wipes the sweat off of his face. “I know that.”

“A-act like it. I t-tried ta day,” Jared stammers, angrily swiping at the traitorous tears spilling down his cheeks. “Ya d-didn’t.”

XXXXX

Leaving Jensen to walk home had seemed like a good idea at the time, but then again, so did taking the stairs up to the apartment to burn off the manic adrenaline. Jared’s sorry for both. Well, at least about the stairs.

Jared wobbles onto the landing of the third flight, hand pressing against the throbbing in his back. He would laugh over how he must look like a sixty year old, but that’s hard to do when his jaw is locked shut against the pain.

A sharp spasm courses along Jared’s spine, and his knees buckle forcing him to the ground. Jared screams a liturgy of curses as his body connects with the cement floor.

He curls up on his side as small as his frame can handle, face scrunching in pain and the quietest of winces escaping his lips. One hand pulls on his long locks in adverse to the pain and the other hand Jared’s got digging in his back trying to work at a cramp of crippling magnitude.

Jared closes his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing. He feels fingers wrapping around his forearm and cracks his eyes open slightly to get a look. He slams them shut again when he sees its Jensen looking all kinds of pathetic.

Jared feels Jensen’s breath on his face and knows Jensen’s trying to tell him something. Jared doesn’t see it, and doesn’t want to.

Despite the fact that Jared allows Jensen to adjust him slightly, he’s still surprised when Jensen’s hand starts kneading into the tense muscles.

Jared resists at first, the contact forcing him to scream out. “C-Cur ful.”

He feels Jensen’s hesitation, but Jared is almost glad his boyfriend’s stubbornness wins out. He can feel the rigid tension cease and the contracted muscles smooth under Jensen’s hands. Jared’s breathing slows down and finally, finally, he greets Jensen with a sideways glance.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen mouths sincerely.

Jared rolls his eyes, and turns away. He really doesn’t want to do this right now. Jensen apparently does though because he switches sides, plopping down between the first stair and Jared’s face.

Jared blinks, waiting patiently for Jensen to say whatever is on his damn mind so he can leave, get to his bed, and sleep.

Jensen bites his lower lip. “I’m so sorry, Jared, I am. I didn’t…I forget sometimes.”

“I c-can’t.” Jared states bluntly.

“Can’t what, Jay?” Jared tries not to look stunned that his Jensen can really be that clueless but he guess he fails because Jensen looks like he wants to duct tape his mouth shut for eternity.

“Fur get.” Jared clarifies, flicking his ear.

Jared can’t let go of the cartilage, and he rubs the lobe of his ear in silent melancholy. He doesn’t notice Jensen’s encroaching until Jared’s head is in Jensen’s lap and Jensen’s fingers are in Jared’s hair, and somehow it’s better this way.

Jared stares upward, frowning when he sees the battle Jensen’s waging. It’s all over his boyfriend’s face, and has been ever since the accident. Jensen’s emotions may be clearer to see, but his thoughts, feelings, those are becoming harder and harder for Jared to get him to share.

“T-tell meh,” Jared prompts gently.

“Things get so good sometimes, Jar, and I let myself do it.” Jensen admits softly, tenderly brushing the sticky strands of sweaty hair off Jared’s forehead. “I want—Jared, I want to forget sometimes, you know? I’m so fuckin’ angry this happened to you. That God—that God let this happen. That our lives are so different. It’s not fair. I don’t understand it and no matter what shit my momma says about bigger plans…Jay, I can’t believe this was planned for us. For you.”

Jared rests his hand on his chest, creasing his brow at the rapid thudding of Jensen’s heart. “’S o-okay, Jen.”

“No, it’s not,” Jensen counters, shaking his head, “I can’t help you get through something I can’t face myself.”

Jared extends his arm a bit more, hand leaving Jensen’s chest to stroke his cheek. “Ya h-help. Ya t-there wun I n-need ya.”

“Not today.” Jensen returns pitifully, “I let you down, Jay. I never want to do that.”

Jared nods. “Ya g-gonna.” Jensen opens his mouth to protest, but Jared stares him quiet. He gets it, he does. They both are adjusting and as long as they do it together, well, Jared ain't gonna complain. “Ya n-not p-pur fec.”

“You make me want to be,” Jensen replies, wide eyed. Jared doesn’t even care if Jensen seems embarrassed by the admission, he's grinning like a loon. ‘Cause really that’s all he wants to know, to feel, that Jensen loves him, and still cares after everything that’s happened between them.

Bending down, Jensen presses his lips to Jared’s forehead. “I’m gonna make it up to you.”

Jared smirks lewdly, and lets his hand not so accidentally fall onto Jensen’s thigh. Jensen raises an eyebrow and Jared pulls his hand away to join the other in telling Jensen he wants another massage. Full body this time.

“Done,” Jensen agrees, sliding up the wall. Jared groans his way to a shaky stand, glad to have Jensen there for support. “And an Icy Hot/Aleve cocktail.”

“I-I’m gunna p-put ya up for s-saint hud,” Jared states, wrapping his arm over Jensen’s shoulder and resting his weight against his boyfriend.

“They’d never take me.”

Jared laughs. “Prob ble not.”

Jensen signs a three count. Jared grins goofily, and playfully buries his head in Jensen’s shoulder. Together, they take the steps toward home.

XXXXX

Please let me know what you think...'cause I'm not sure If I met the prompt or the tone I wanted to in this. Think my muse has been out of the game for too long.

Not What it Seems Part B

Sat, 24 May 2008 06:50:08 GMT

Enjoy the rest of the story!

XXXXX

This is all wrong. All fuckin’ wrong. Jared shouldn’t be standing in the airport terminal looking totally okay with the fact that Jensen’s about to board a friggen’ plane to L.A. and leave Jared behind—at Jared’s suggestion, mind you. Jensen, well, Jensen is freaking the fuck out.

“I don’t like this,” Jensen mumbles, and his heart clenches Jared’s face scrunches in confusion. “I said, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Jared rolls his eyes when Jensen’s fingers replay the message, and he signs that he’s going to be fine—food, water, all that. Jensen shakes his head. “You’re going to be alone though, man.”

“Whut you w-want,” Jared replies, picking up Jensen’s carry on and Jensen knows he doesn’t mean it the way it came out, but shit, that stings.

The overhead says its time to board, and Jensen just shakes his head because Jared doesn’t even flinch. Jensen doesn’t know why everything’s becoming more and more an irritation and hassle when it comes to this shit. But it is, just bubbling up and over, spilling and marring everything he and Jared have. He wishes it wouldn’t.

The second page to board comes across the P.A. system and Jensen forces a big smile, and pulls Jared into a fierce goodbye hug.

XXXXX

Jensen walks out the audition room and onto the busy L.A. street. He fucking blew it. God, he can see the headline now. Supernatural star loses part in Major Film Due to Extreme Suckage. Okay, so maybe not that exact headline, but that’s what it feels like. He’s been off his game ever since he landed in LAX, and it’s not Jensen’s fault.

It’s Jared’s doing. Hell, the whole reason Jensen came out here was to get them a new chance at their old lives. Okay, so maybe it was more so Jensen could have his old life back, but still. Jared would benefit, and it isn’t like Jensen is planning on leaving his boyfriend behind. Bottom line, Jensen’s so worried he can’t even focus on anything else.

He’s called the house at least four times since the plane landed and no one’s picked up. The last actual large purchase they had made was for a new deaf-friendly phone system that would convert the words onto the screen for Jared and do that flashing thing that drives Jensen crazy in the middle of the night. But still, no answer.

Jensen redials the number, hears the incessant ringing, and waits like an impatient kid for someone to pick up. No one does, and Jensen sinks onto the nearby bench. Either Jared doesn’t need him anymore, or the audition isn’t the only thing he’s fucked up in the last twenty-four hours.

God, he wanted this, but he wanted Jared and this. Jensen’s never felt so damn selfish.

XXXXX

Clothes fly from the closet to land haphazardly on the bed. They don’t come anywhere near the suitcase, but Jared doesn’t seem to mind. It looks close enough through the mist in his eyes. A couple shoes make it to the pile, and Jared straightens, taking a look around.

The flashing from across the hallway catches his attention, but Jared doesn’t go answer. Instead, he stares at the shadows it casts on the wall and chokes out a sob. If he picks up, Jared knows he’s not going to go through with this.

Turning his head, Jared stares out the apartment window into the darkening sky. Jensen’s flight wouldn’t get in until nine, so that left plenty more time to clear out. The meter’s running, Jared’s trusty friend, the cab driver, at the wheel, and Jared picks up his pace.

He only needs enough stuff to last him about a week, maybe, enough time for Jensen to get back and Jared to formulate a good enough reason as to why he’d doing this. Except, Jared’s already got one.

He’s holding Jensen back, caging him like some kind of animal, and that Jared can’t stomach. Jensen deserves to be happy, to further his career, not stay home and take odd jobs with the Canadian film industry when they really need the money. Jared’s not as dumb as Jensen likes to try and keep him when it comes to that shit. He’s seen the bank statements, the bills from the speech therapists and doctors.

It’s weighing Jensen down so much it’s visible. Jared can tell by the heaviness that encompasses almost everything Jensen does. The dark-rimmed eyes and worried frown that never seem to leave are like some twisted bonus.

Jared doesn’t think he’s worth it. And one day, he can almost bet that Jensen’s going to look at him with resentment. Shit, he feels horrible for considering it, but it’s true. Jensen could still have a life, this L.A. opportunity seals it, and he left, which proves Jensen still wants it.

Jared looks down to the balled cotton shirt in his hand, and slides to the floor, shoulders trembling as he struggles to remind himself it’s better this way.

XXXXX

Jensen drops his luggage outside the door, and fumbles for his keys. The metal clangs as he twists open the lock and Jensen kicks his duffle bag into the apartment, pulling the keys out and tossing them onto the side table.

It’s dark in the apartment, not a single light turned on, but Jensen doesn’t really question it, just digs through his bag to find the wrapped gift store purchase and moves toward the bedroom.

Jensen was hoping the figure crouched in the corner would be laying in bed waiting for him. Frown lines mar Jensen’s forehead when he flicks the bedroom light on. Jared glances up slowly, his face red and tear streaked.

“Jay?”

Guilty is the only word Jensen can come up with for the look Jared’s giving him when Jensen’s eyes fall to the packed suitcase on the bed.

“Y-ya ga h-home eh-ly,” Jared offers, working to an unsteady stand.

Jensen doesn’t really know how to process this. He takes a shaky seat on the edge of the bed, his mouth a thin line. “Sorry to disappoint.”

There are tears in Jared’s eyes again, and Jensen could never stand to be the one that put them there. He takes a deep breath and signs slowly ‘what are you doing, Jay?’

“I d-dun know,” Jared answers brokenly, looking so lost. “I d-dun know.”

And then Jensen’s up, wrapping his arms fiercely around Jared and holding fast as Jared breaks. Tears sting at the corners of Jensen’s eyes and he blinks them away, pulling back a bit so Jared can see.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry,” Jensen apologizes, not even trying to be the strong one here, “Please, just stay.”

Jared wiggles out of Jensen’s hold and Jensen can see Jared’s busted world open and bleeding in that disbelieving stare. Jared’s fingers work out the question of why, why would Jensen want him to stay. All he does is bring pain and problems and keeps Jensen from having what he wants.

“That’s not true!” Jensen snaps, grimacing a bit when Jared doesn’t readily respond. “Jared, it’s not true, dammit. I-yeah, okay? I wanted to go to L.A., and I wanted to know what if. I did. But then, I got there, and you weren’t there, and I couldn’t even damn concentrate on the lines, and then you didn’t pick up the phone, and—“

The fire goes out of Jensen the instant a goofy smile crosses Jared’s face.

“What?”

“Ya m-mus-missed me.”

Jensen signs with a smile for Jared to ‘shut up’, then tilts his head in thought. “Wait, you didn’t think I would?”

Jared looks away, and Jensen has his answer. Jensen smacks Jared’s shoulder hard enough for the younger man to turn around.

“Jared, I’m never gonna forget about you, okay? And I know this past year has been hard on us, and there’s a lot on both sides here, but can you just trust me when I say that I want to be here. That I want to be with you.”

“B-but.”

“No buts. That L.A. stuff? It just made me realize that if I can’t have you with me then I don’t want it. And I’m sorry if it made you feel like I didn’t want you around. Shit, man, you packed?”

Jared smiles softly, eyes following Jensen’s lips until he can’t really stand it anymore and just leans in. The kiss is deep, but tender and Jared pulls back with a satisfied smirk at Jensen’s stunned expression.

“I-I sur-ry too.” Jared replies solemnly, then looks over Jensen’s shoulder to the package on the bed. “W-what ya br-bring me?”

“Who says it’s for you?” Jensen teases, countenance tinged with embarrassment when Jared barrels past him, tearing open the wrapping.

Jared pulls out the gift with a breathy guffaw and Jensen feigns irritation. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to find one in your size?”

Jared places the T-shirt across his torso and stares down at the tourist trap of a gift his boyfriend bought him. Jensen places his hands over his face, shaking his head, as he gets a glimpse of just how goofy Jared looks with “Somebody Who Loves Me Went to L.A. and Got Me This Shirt,” pasted across his body.

Out of all the stuff that’s changed for them, one thing has remained the same. Jared’s laugh is still as infectious and strengthening to Jensen as anything else in the world. He can’t help it. Despite the situation and just how horrible tonight could’ve gone, Jensen laughs. For the first time in what feels like forever, he laughs. He doesn’t even realize there are tears in his eyes until he feels them drip onto his shirt.

Jared reaches out and pulls Jensen onto the bed. Jensen topples there willingly, his mind struggling to pin exactly which emotion is playing out. Jared’s fingers brush away the tears. “L-love ya. B-but ya c-can’t do evera-th-thing. Too h-hard.”

“But-“

Jared shakes his head, determination in eyes. “No. T-to-goth-ar.”

Jensen leans in and gives Jared a chaste kiss. “Yeah, together.”

------

The End

Not What it Seems

Sat, 24 May 2008 06:48:49 GMT

Author: 3^rd-leg

Pairing: J2

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I knew better than to trust that damn Home Shopping Network

Summary: As much Jensen loathes the responsibility and weight continually on his shoulders, he’d fall apart without it.

A/N: Part 4 in the deaf!Jared as promised! And Part B will be attached.

Not What it Seems

I wanna hang onto something that won't break away or fall apart like the pieces of my heart—“Globes and Maps” Something Corporate

Jensen doesn’t claim to have all the answers. That’s why it baffles, frustrates, and amazes him when Jared trusts he does. It’s fixating, like a drug Jensen’s hooked on.

He’s thinking maybe he should try to wean away from the addiction. Only, if Jensen’s honest--he can’t. As much as he loathes the responsibility and weight continually on his shoulders, he’d fall apart without it. He can preach individuality and Jared’s need to regain a good portion of his old life until he’s a broken record, but the reality is, Jensen will crumble without Jared needing him to stay strong.

Jensen thinks he’s a horrible person. If Jared only knew just how badly Jensen’s own personal sanity depends on his daily struggles, well, Jensen’s not so sure Jared would appreciate it. Much less want to look at him.

What’s worse, Jensen can’t and won’t ever admit to not having an answer for whatever Jared’s broken and stammered questions may be. That would be failure and therefore, completely unacceptable.

So, when Jared stares at him like he’s being sent to the gallows instead of getting into a cab Jensen does what he always does. He smiles reassuringly and gives his boyfriend the biggest of hugs. “I’ll see you soon.”

“C-come wuth,” Jared insists, his face pinched with trepidation.

“You don’t need me too,” Jensen returns honestly. Because really, Jared doesn’t. He’s been trying just like he promised a month ago, and these cab rides through the city are helping—well, Jensen thinks they are. To Jensen’s knowledge, Jared never gets out of the car, hires the same cab driver every damn time, but at least he’s out of the house right?

Jared’s lips turn down in a feigned pout. “Wun ya too.”

“You know that face doesn’t work on me, Padalecki,” Jensen grins, nodding toward the waiting cab. “Now go so I can get some errands done. God knows we need food and I have to stop by the bank.”

Jared’s eyes narrow when Jensen’s lips form the last word, and he tilts his head curiously. He fingerspells the word, his face a glaring question mark.

“Yeah, we combined accounts remember? Need to make sure it all went through,” Jensen replies, glad Jared can’t hear his weary tone. “Meter’s running.”

Jared leans down and gives Jensen a quick peck on the lips. Jensen returns the gesture chastely and tilts his head in the direction of the cab. “Jay.”

Jared’s fingers tell Jensen he loves him before the tall man folds his body into the cab. Jensen’s hand moves almost on autopilot as he watches the yellow car disappear down the drive.

Absently, Jensen studies his watch—he’s late.

XXXXX

Jensen may have all the answers for Jared, but Jensen hasn’t had ample time to prepare what his answers are for the hounding questions from the outside world. They toss him alone and without care into the raging sea of inadequacy.

“You can’t sit there and tell me you don’t want to get back into the business, Jensen.” His agent’s lips frown, and she clicks her tongue in frustration. “Do you realize the star power already attached to this film?”

Jensen dares to look up from mocha colored waves in his coffee cup. The Canadian beanery isn’t as full as he wishes it could be. At least then he wouldn’t have to focus on his agent’s glaring disappointment or the outside window praying to God that Jared’s cab doesn’t drive by. “It’s shooting in L.A., Marti.”

“Is that a problem?” Marti sighs long and loud, her irritation very apparent.

“I live in Vancouver,” Jensen returns softly. His body jerks as Marti’s hand thumps on top of the script.

“Move.” Marti clips like it’s the easiest thing on the fuckin’ planet to do, and Jensen—well, now Jensen’s pissed.

Jensen’s free hand clenches as he grits out a reply. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Marti protests, stubbornness gleaming in her blue eyes, “Jensen, listen to me. Supernatural is over. There’s no reason for you to stay here separated from the acting world. You haven’t looked at a single project for almost a year. You need to get back out there before people lose interest, and this script—this opportunity—how often do these kind of things come along?”

“Jared—“

“--will understand.”

Jensen bites his bottom lip, eyes dancing across the counter top frantically in time with the wild beating of his heart. He feels trapped and chooses to stay silent. Who knows what his lips might let slip? Marti reaches out, her voice gentle like approaching a caged animal. Jensen wonders when he let his guard down so damn much.

“You got to have some money coming in. Hermits generally don’t have sizeable incomes.” Marti points out, a knowing smile on her face when Jensen’s eyes widen at the accusation he can’t deny. Things are more than a little tight. “Look, you can’t center your entire life around Jared. Don’t you think he’d want you to do something good for yourself—for the both of you?”

What the fuck’s she talking about? This is his life, dammit. It’s what he wants to be with Jared. Whatever that entails he wants it.

Jensen wants to be furious, he does. Instead, he merely shrugs and finger tip-toes the script over to his side of the small round table. His hands grip around the thick bound pages, and an almost nostalgic sigh rips through him.

Marti’s looking at him with a cryptic smile. “We have until nine tomorrow morning to make a go of this and they’ll want to meet with you, of course. Call me tonight.” Jensen nods and watches silently as Marti puts on her coat and downs the last few drops of her coffee. “Please call, Jensen.”

“Have a good flight, Marti,” Jensen manages, voice rough and gaze drifting back to the script in his hands. He feels the light pat on his shoulder, but when Jensen looks back up, she’s gone.

He doesn’t have time to inform her that the decision is one he’s going to come to terms with.

XXXXX

Jensen parks the truck next to Jared’s pickup. They’re going to have to sell it if Jared never decides to take it out the garage. He was there the first time Jared attempted driving since the accident and never wants to see that particular brand of panic ever again. So, selling works for him. Money’s a concern and has been for a while. See, another reason L.A.’s a bad idea. Too expensive. Although, he’d be getting paid, and it’d be affordable. Shit.

He picks up the grocery bag. Jared’s so going to know he lied about his whereabouts if he didn’t come home with something from the store. His feet trudge as he works his way toward their home and Jensen’s quite surprised to find the apartment empty when he arrives inside.

There’s a moment, and Jensen will swear on his grandpop’s grave it was brief, where his mind dipped into the resources of overwhelming concern. Dropping the supermarket bag on the couch, Jensen made a lap around the back of their place before his breathing turned erratic.

That was before he tread through the kitchen, and the dogs’ loud barks resonate in Jensen’s already pounding head. Jared looks up from reading their daily mail then, and Jensen knows in his heart it’s only because Harley’s tail probably left a bruise on Jared’s leg.

Jared’s megawatt smile greets him and the script in Jensen’s messenger bag feeling worlds heavier than it did the first time he’d picked it up.

“Du ya m-miss me?” Jared questions loudly, petting his ‘children’ with a wide grin. Jensen slumps down in the chair beside him and hates when the smile melts into a pensive frown. “Jen?”

Jensen shifts slightly when one of Jared’s man-paws drops onto his shoulder. “Huh?”

Jared tilts his head in scrutiny, lightly knocking away the dogs attempted siege of his boyfriend. “You dun l-look ta good.”

“I’m fine,” Jensen replies and stands up quickly only to have his bag catch on the table’s edge and pull him back momentarily. Jared laughs, but Jensen curses. “Dammit!”

“Kun duh f-funny,” Jared teases, leaning in to plant a kiss on Jensen’s pouting lips.

Jensen can’t help but smirk in return when Jared pulls away and grabs the front of Jared’s shirt to bring him back because Jensen needs all the closeness he can get right about now. “Where’d you go today?”

“Stun-stun ley Park,” Jared explains with a sneaky grin.

Jensen wants to return the expression but can’t. “Yeah. Did you get out the car this time?” Jared nods enthusiastically and Jensen does his best to seem overtly proud. He guesses he doesn’t do a great job at it judging by Jared’s furrowed brow.

“Whut’s wr-wrong?” Jared questions, pads of his fingers caressing Jensen’s face lovingly although his face is marred with concern.

“Just thinking,” Jensen responds hollowly, but shrugs on the mask he’s held up for so long. “My little man is growing up so fast.” He teases, pinching Jared’s cheek and cooing.

Jared tosses his head back in a laugh, pushing Jensen away good-naturedly. “Du I gut re-wurded?”

“After you make me dinner,” Jensen jokes in return, loving the way Jared pouts at the suggestion.

Jensen starts listing off side dishes and Jared shakes his head, fingers signing that it’s not his turn before pointing at the pots and pans cabinet.

“Fine, but we’re having chicken strips and macaroni and you’re just gonna have to live with it.” Jensen states indignantly over the sound of Jared’s exaggerated gasp of horror.

Jensen turns to face the stove, pulling off his bag and dumping it on the counter. He’s halfway to the oven timer when Jared’s strong arms wrap around him and pull Jensen to rest against his chest. “T-tell me whut it is, J-jen.”

Jensen doesn’t move to face him just signs that really, it’s nothing. He figures it’s a good thing he shares this language with Jared because right now trusting his voice isn’t an option.

Jared grip tightens a bit and he rocks gently. “Nut leh tin y-ou go ‘til ya t-tell me.”

He wants to push Jared away, but can’t, the support is what he needs. And Jensen has no choice but to turn in his Jared’s grasp. “What do you—do you ever—do you miss—I was thinking about maybe us…maybe heading back to L.A.”

Jensen says it like a question, but Jared really has no way of knowing that. He isn’t surprised when Jared releases him and stares like Jensen just claimed to be Superman’s cousin and a sole survivor of Krytpon.

“W-why?” Jared murmurs, and god, Jensen thinks he looks frightened, or maybe that’s growing anger.

“Jared,” Jensen starts, “It’s just a thought, okay? Not final or nothing.”

“Y-ya wun to,” Jared states firmly, like he’s sure of something Jensen isn’t.

“No, I—I just--,” Jensen stammers, unable to find words when Jared’s staring back like the wind just got knocked out of him. “Never mind.”

Jared steps away, shaking his head. Jensen opens his mouth to protest, to state his case, something, but Jared shrugs his shoulders and shuffles back to the kitchen table. Jensen watches Jared snatch up the discarded mail before heading to the living room, leaving Jensen alone with nothing but frozen chicken and boxed noodles.

XXXXX

Jensen’s entirely sure that his boyfriend is possessed. He didn’t come away from Supernatural empty handed. Hell no, Jensen recognizes the signs: the whole not being who people know you to be. Yeah, Jensen knows Jared better than Dean ever knew Sam, and he can tell you point blank that the Jared refusing to come to bed isn’t the same one as before Jensen dropped the L.A.-bomb.

Seriously, his Jared should’ve hit the roof, yelling and telling Jensen that he can’t believe this shit. Honestly, Jensen would feel a hell of a lot better if Jared had started reaming him on being inconsiderate and a total weak push-over of a man. Jensen certainly feels like it for even considering this opportunity.

But…but dammit, he wants it so bad he can taste it, and something he’s poured at least half of his life into shouldn’t feel like a bad thing. And now, it so does.

Jensen sighs loudly. All he’s gotten for the past few hours is silence, and something akin to moping combined with acceptance from Jared. If it weren’t for Jared refusing to go to bed and not eating half his dinner, Jensen would be at a loss to know how upset Jared really was.

Jensen turns his head to the side, smashing his right cheek into the feather pillow as he stares down the digital clock. 12:43. Rolling his head back so he can stare at the high-spinning ceiling fan, Jensen huffs.

“Oh, c’mon!” Jensen grunts, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and propelling quickly to a wobbly stand.

Jensen trudges down the hallway, blinking at the bright lights as he enters the living room to find Jared curled up on the sofa. Jensen has every intention of yelling at Jared for not yelling at him. However, that isn’t going to be the case. See, Jensen has this sudden urge to yell for a whole other reason when he gets a good look what’s in Jared’s hand.

“H-hey!” Jared gasps in surprise when Jensen’s quick action swipes the script from his hands. “Whut du hell?”

Jensen clenches the rolled script in his hand. “Where’d you get this?”

“Wh-wh-“ Jared grits his teeth and then signs the same question back, a grim smile on his face when Jensen looks away. “T-this why you wun to go b-back.”

Jensen’s glad he can hear the understanding in Jared’s tone, but shit if he can’t hear the pain there too. He knows L.A. and the whole film industry is just a harsh reminder of what Jared’s lost. “No.”

“Ya l-lying,” Jared points out, patting the empty portion of the sofa encouragingly.

Jensen takes the hint and sits, meeting Jared’s gaze. “I think it’s better—“

“Fuh me?” Jared interjects, shaking his head. “Whut ‘bout y-you?”

“What about me?” Jensen replies, ducking his head.

Jared smacks him on the shoulder for that, eyes narrowed in silent scolding. Jensen knows better than to hide his lips when they’re talking. “Wun ya t-to be h-happy.”

Jensen snaps his head up, and tries to smile but knows Jared can see the weariness in his eyes. “I am.”

Jared scoots over and pulls Jensen to rest against him. “Ya t-tired.”

Jensen breathes deep and sinks into his partner’s hold. If only Jared knew just how bone-weary the past year has left him. But Jensen doesn’t have a knack for saying things the right way the first time, and some things, until he gets the words just damn right, Jared will never hear. Literally and figuratively.

Jensen opts to sign that it’s late, and feels Jared press a kiss to the top of his head.

“N-not whut I m-meant,” Jared states quietly. Jensen twists so that he can see Jared’s face, then wishes he hadn’t. Jared just looks…well, he looks sad and defeated.

“Jay?” Jensen questions, his eyes searching Jared’s countenance for an elaboration.

“I g-get it,” Jared states simply. He slides off the sofa and heads down the hallway without a look back, leaving Jensen alone with the damn script in his hands.

Part B

Release Me (4/?)

Mon, 19 May 2008 17:35:08 GMT

Title: Release Me (4/?)

Author: 3^rd-leg

Rating: T-14

Summary: Decisions, decisions, decisions. (H/C)

Disclaimer: It’s one of those things that would be shouted from the rooftops. I’m too poor to own a rooftop. Therefore, it’s just not one of those things

A/N: I apologize for my tardiness. Work’s been making me it’s bitch, but because of taking so long I feel so awful, I’m trying to finish another installment for the deaf!Jared verse to post later this week to hold you guys over until I can post another chapter here.

A/N Part 2: I know that any mistakes are my own. My beta and I have been so busy it's not to the polished level you're probably used to, so again, I apologize. Also, keep in mind Jared's having a hard time...and let me know what you think about his behavior.

Release Me

I am hopeful, full of doubt, and I am trying to work this whole thing out. So, how can you just sit there sleeping when your worlds on fire and your chest is beating? –“Our Finest Year” Better than Ezra

Lack of sleep never made any man wonderful company. Jared is living, breathing proof of that. The tall actor blinks furiously at the caking grit digging beneath his eyelids and shakes his head like the action will literally launch his brain into functional mode. His mood is as sour as the roof of his mouth and the constant idle chatter flying across the waiting room isn’t helping it improve in the slightest.

“I think a minor A would sound better here,” Steve reaches over his chair arm and flicks the sheet music in Chris’ lap. “Like way better.

Chris bats Steve’s arm away, bottom lip curled beneath top teeth. “Quit rubbernecking, Hollywood.”

Jared shoots the two men an irritated glare when Steve laughs boisterously. Steve proceeds to make a show out of fixing his sunglasses and straightening his loosely buttoned white collared shirt. Jared personally thinks Steve looks ridiculous, although he’d kill for those damn sunglasses. The fluorescent lights were steadily becoming a bitch on his eyes.

Chris sends a Jared an annoyed smile before turning back to his sheet music. Jared’s not in the mood to return the gesture, so Chris flips the pencil in his hand so it’s eraser side down to the page. Jared watches in dull silence as Steve lifts a flip-flopped foot and kicks at Christian’s leg, eyeing the erased notes. “Whatcha changing there, Kane?”

Chris tosses the pencil down and pops his head up so quickly Steve has to jerk back to avoid a skull-skull collision. “I swear to God, man.”

“Oh, this should be good.” the long haired singer teases, a lazy smile on his face. A stare-off commences, but since Chris is the only one really staring, it doesn’t last long. Chris simply gives up after a good minute, offering Steve a weary grin.

“How long we been sitting here, you think?” Chris asks to no one in particular.

“Ten hours and…” Jared flicks his gaze to his watch face, “Twenty-four minutes.

“Damn, don’t they got visiting hours or something?” Steve questions, eyeing the informational posters on the walls.

“You went back when you got here,” Jared returns a bit harshly, his fuse is so damn short. Chris and Steve got to visit this morning and he’s been banished to the damn waiting room all friggen’ day. He knows Jensen has other friends, but seeing as how Chris and Steve haven’t spent near as much time with Jensen in the last three years as Jared, well, there should be a damn pecking order or something.

Chris’ eyes narrow at Jared’s tone, but his reply manages to stay level. “We talked with Alan and Donna. The doctor was in with Jensen so we couldn’t go in the room.”

Jared immediately feels better. His expression shows the relief, and he doesn’t even care if it shouldn’t. “Huh. That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Chris mutters, meeting Jared’s gaze with a measuring stare. “But Alan thought it’d be a good idea if Steve and I took the overnight shift tonight so you could have a break.”

Jared’s too fuckin’ tired to act like that doesn’t sting, and his eyes are lit with indignation. “I’m fine.”

“Not about fine, kid,” Chris shoots back with an understanding but firm look. Jared has the urge to just punch it off the dude’s face.

Steve is all but a child caught in between bickering parents and he coughs unnecessarily. “Anybody else hungry? I’m starving.”

“Cafeteria’s downstairs,” Jared informs sharply, leaning back in the chair and shutting his eyes. God, his fuckin’ skin’s crawling.

Steve exits quietly and there’s a long silent pause before Chris chooses to open his mouth. “Get used to having us around, Jared.”

Jared pops his eyes open solely to roll them at Chris’ statement. “Yeah, whatever.”

At that Chris has to laugh. “Dude, we’re staying at your house you know.”

Okay, so now, Jared’s full attention is on Mr. Fucking Kane. “What?”

“Hey, since you ain’t using it your girl said we could,” Chris clarifies with a smug smirk.

Jared cricks his neck to the side, satisfied when he hears a loud pop. “Looking forward to it.”

“Not like you’ve been there all week.”

Both men look up to find Sandy in the doorway holding a large Tupperware container. Jared smiles at her as innocently as he can muster but it’s terribly weak and empty. Judging from the look he gets in return, Sandy can more than tell.

“Hope you guys are hungry,” Sandy exclaims, it’s over the top, but hell, at least someone’s trying to be optimistic. She places the container down on the magazine table and reaches into her large purse for the packaged silverware. “Its spaghetti and I made some garlic bread too.”

Jared waits until Sandy drops the silverware to reach out and take her hand. He tugs her gently to rest in his lap. It’s the only affection he’s been keen on showing lately, but Sandy hasn’t complained.

Sandy plants a kiss to Jared’s forehead and frowns in concern. “I’m not leaving until you finish it all either.”

“We’ll see,” Jared returns, ignoring the chiding glance he gets for it. “Thanks.”

“Yea, thank you,” Chris echoes, cracking open the container and grinning at the smell of the marinara sauced noodles. “Sandy, if Jared changes his mind, you know where to find me.”

Sandy giggles sweetly. “Oh, I will, stud.”

Jared groans at the exchange and wraps his arms around Sandy. Call him sappy, but at the moment it’s nice to have something to hold onto because he feels like he’s fucking drowning in all this shit. The moment doesn’t last, but they haven’t in what seems like forever between the two of them and it hasn’t even been a week.

Sandy’s up and helping Chris fork out a portion of the spaghetti into a Styrofoam cup. They’re all too exhausted and sore to wander downstairs for plates anyway.

“Oh fuck it,” Steve declares from the entryway. The small crowd whips around to find the musician’s arms loaded down with candy bars and soda bottles. “Last time I do a food run.”

“Sit your ass down,” Chris orders, having an exceptionally hard time talking while chewing. Steve does so, dumping the vending machine diet on the table next to their prepared dinner and grabbing a cup for himself.

Sandy’s smile just keeps getting bigger as the two visiting men praise her culinary skills. It wavers though when Jared refuses her offer for a portion at least three times. He can’t stand it. Aversion. Distraction. God, it’s like they totally forget Jensen is dying two hallways over. He really needs to take a fuckin’ walk. Hell, his legs are bouncing like crazy and there’s too much noise in here to the point his temples are visibly thumping.

He would’ve made his attempt if it weren’t for a nurse appearing in the waiting room. And isn’t that just what Jared wants to see. The room gets uneasily quiet and Jared’s surprised when the nurse calls his name. Everyone’s worried eyes are on Jared, but he ignores the group and follows the nurse dumbly when she asks him too.

XXXXX

“We’re going to have to switch antibiotics. It’s a risky move, but I think it will pay off,” the doctor suggests, holding out the treatment forms for Jared to look over.

The small conference room is the same one Jared was held prisoner in when Donna and Alan first arrived. He hates the place, and the stupid neutral painted walls. Jared’s almost certain no one’s ever gotten good news in this room. He sure hasn’t.

“You think or you know?” Jared inquires. Personally, Jared thinks that if Jensen knew who his doctor was, this dude would be fired. With all the money the guy’s getting paid he could at least have a fuckin’ answer for the damn problem. When Jensen wakes up, because he is waking up dammit, Jared is so informing him that insurance better just cover the lot of it because this kind of service doesn’t even warrant co-pay.

“Jared, son, it’s alright.” Alan intervenes, his voice rough and halting, grabbing his wife’s hand. Donna’s eyes are red-rimmed and her cheeks tear stained. Jared’s willing to bet these aren’t the first or last ones she’s cried today. “What uh…why is this risky?”

“Different drugs have different side effects and when you increase dosages that can cause the reactions to be more severe in some individuals,” the doctor explains and Jared looks up, the clipboard in his hand feeling like it’s made of iron.

“What-?” Donna starts, taking a moment to gather her composure before continuing. “What kind of side effects?”

Jared can tell the doctor is choosing his word choice carefully and that alone scares him.

“This particular drug is more aggressive and because of that some blood pressure and seizure reactions can occur. It’s rare but with Jensen’s condition being what it is the possibility for complications does increase.”

“But you think it’ll work?” Alan questions and there’s no missing the desperation there.

The doctor folds his hands. “Yes, but Mr. Ackles, you have to understand that if there are complications it may not matter if the drug is working.”

Jared grits his teeth. “’Cause he’d be dead right?”

Donna sucks in a breath, fresh tears springing up. “Jared, please.”

“If something doesn’t change, that would be the prognosis,” the doctor states too calmly for Jared’s liking. “This at least gives us some options.”

“Couldn’t just use it in the first place?” Jared questions angrily, gripping the clipboard so tightly he can hear the plastic creaking.

“Our current treatment plan has proved successful in the past,” the graying man defends. “Each case is different.”

“You really think this will help my son?” Alan repeats, and Jared wonders just how many times he’s said that in the past week. The doctor nods and Alan shoots a silent, but heavy look toward his wife. “Okay. Okay, let’s do it.”

Jared knows he didn’t hear that right.

“Good, good. I want to get this started tonight if possible,” The doctor eyes the forms earnestly. “Mr. Padalecki. Your signature.”

Jared turns wide eyes to the Ackles’. “This could kill him.”

“Could save him,” the doctor chimes in, his words cut off by the crushing sound of Donna’s tearful struggle.

Jared jumps to a stand, letting the clipboard fall to the floor. “Or kill him!”

Alan gets up from his chair and meets Jared’s fiery eyes with his own sorrow-wrecked ones. “We know, Jared. Dammit, we know that! B-but if we don’t do anything—-He’s my son. I can’t let him die, not when there’s something that could fix this.”

“It’s not your signature on the damn paper!” Jared argues, breath coming out way too fast and not quite enough getting back in.

“Does he have to sign?” Donna’s voice is so soft it’s almost missed entirely.

“Jared has health care proxy which authorizes him to act on behalf of Jensen in cases like this.” the doctor pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long exhale.

Donna chokes back a sob. “We’re his family. And-and he needs this.”

“That’s exactly why many people choose a proxy, Mrs. Ackles. Would Jensen want this, is the question.” the doctor returns gently, his eyes on Jared. “I’ll leave you to discuss it over, but I’ll need an answer sooner rather than later.”

Jared doesn’t flinch when the doctor brushes past him to leave. He has no idea how to process the looks on Jensen’s parent’s faces, but figures it’s supposed to resemble what Jared’s feeling on the inside. He doesn’t know how they can just agree to something like this.

“I just want to do the right thing here.” Jared admits dejectedly, his eyes glued to the papers in his hand.

Alan reaches out and grabs Jared’s shoulder reassuringly. “Me too.”

Jared nods tensely. “But what if—“

Alan simply releases his hold on Jared and turns to embrace his wife, Donna’s head buried in his shoulder. “It won’t.”

“You don’t know that. I just—I need…”

And then Jared’s backing away. Let Alan and Donna call after him all they damn want but Jared’s making a fuckin’ grand exit. He barrels through the stairway door, basically sprinting down the damn steps and makes it to the ground floor and out the Emergency exit fast enough to rival the Flash.

The fresh air nearly takes his breath away. Jared starts a manic pace and just focuses on breathing. He’s got to breathe. Night’s beginning to fall and Jared’s grateful for the cover because at least he can hide for these brief moments.

There’s a tapping on his arm and Jared looks to find a fifty-something gentleman in front of him, cigarette pinned between his lips and the box it came from outstretched toward Jared. “Think you could use one of these.”

Jared lifts a hand to protest, but the salt and pepper haired man insists. “Take one.”

“Thanks,” Jared replies, pulling out a cigarette and smirking when the older man flicks the lighter.

“Seen you upstairs yesterday. You gotta name?” the man asks as Jared places the lit tobacco to his lips.

Jared nearly chokes at the intensity of the smoke. It’s been a hell of a long time, like Gilmore Girls scene break times, since he’s really done this. “Jared.”

“David,” the man lets out a smoky breath. “Wife’s in 235.”

“Bro-, well, friend’s in 243. Plays my brother but whatever,” Jared replies and guesses some shit really is like riding a bike because this smoking thing is coming back way too easily.

Jared exhales a thin line of smoke and feels the tension releasing from his shoulders. God, he remembers why he liked this shit. David doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t ask anything else, and yet, Jared finds himself enjoying the man’s company.

An ambulance pulls up the side dock, and the two men watch in silence as the night plays out. They finish the pack. David and him. Jared’s eyes are red and tearing by the time they are done. He wishes he could chalk it all up to the smoke.

XXXX

I know Jensen wasn’t in this chapter, but he will be in the next couple. Thanks for reading!

Release Me (3/?)

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 04:26:20 GMT

Title: Release Me

Author: 3rd-leg

Rating: PG-14 for now

Disclaimer: A magical Leoplueradon showed me the way but I got distracted...

Summary: Jared's got a feeling something's wrong. (H/C)

A/N: Thanks to tru-faith for helping me out and reading over my stuff. Also, this chapter is a bit of a filler, which I hate writing, but kind of needed to set up future angst so there ya go...lol

Release Me (3/?)

Alright, sit down and spill your heart. Let’s start from the very start. ‘Cause I can see by your eyes you're wasted. Your energy comes and goes. You’re taking your time. You know nothing can change what happened. – “Someone to Save You” One Republic

Jared glances through the large glass partition separating the ICU hallway from Jensen’s room. He’s not sure if he should be alarmed or grateful that the ICU nurses seem to have taken pity on him and Jensen’s family. Considering the state Jensen’s in, and the forced smiles bearing leniency by the staff, Jared’s almost positive it can’t be a good thing. Hell, the people next door have been reminded of the visitor limit and hours more times than he can count, but not them. Never them.

Alan’s hovering over the bed, holding his son’s hand like, if he lets go, that’s it. Jared hates that, hates that look, quiet desperation and prayers he’s not even sure God hears. Donna’s the one that makes Jared’s eyes water though. Really, it’s not fair for a momma to look that worn down, that lost.

Jared’s hand’s on the door before he remembers. A nurse clears her throat and Jared casts his eyes down to the cart laid down with yellow gowns and blue gloves. He nods and dons the protective gear. Jared thinks Jensen would laugh his ass out the room if he saw this get up. Hell, Jared almost did himself when he first saw it. But see, its more for Jensen’s protection than his own. And Jared? Well, he’s not ever going to be the reason Jensen’s hurt.

“Hey,” Jared whispers, his voice is rough with lack of sleep and grates on his ears, “How’s he doing?”

“Same,” Donna returns softly, the word brimming with a sense of failure, “They said these antibiotics would work, Jared. They said—“

“Honey, maybe it just takes some more time? It’s only been a little over a day since he’s been on them. You know how much Jensen likes to take his time,” Alan chimes in, his hand resting on his wife’s arm and his voice ringing with a hope. “Isn’t that right, Jared? We just have to be patient.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared replies, forcing himself to focus on her face and not Jensen. If he looks at his friend, he might actually spill the truth of it all and admit Jensen needs a whole lot more than time on his side.

Alan takes his wife’s hand reassuringly, but looks toward Jared. “Thanks for sitting with him.”

“No problem. You guys need to rest.” Jared chooses to leave out the inner feeling that it’s his damn turn. It’s like they all are fighting for joint custody or something.

Donna smiles weakly. “So do you.”

“I’m fine,” Jared snaps. It’s harsher than he wanted it to be, but everyone’s been telling him he ain’t fine, and well, he is, dammit. Sort of…

It’s stupid really. Jared shouldn’t feel like his heart is going to escape through his chest when Jensen’s parents leave the room. Leave him alone. With Jensen. It’s what Jared’s wanted since they brought Jensen into the ER, but hasn’t gotten. He understands, he does, Jensen’s family needs to see him, but how is he not family? And why the hell did he have to wait two fuckin’ days to see Jensen?

His blood’s boiling, and it’s not ‘cause of the smothering gown and sticky gloves. “Dammit, man, the staff here sucks. I can make a legal decision for you, but I can’t see you until the family says it’s okay. I mean, you know I love your family, man. It’s just…I’m not the most patient person, and Sandy’s driving me nuts, all caring and shit. I think there’s a point where people can be too--”

He’s nervous and rambling, and Jared slams his mouth shut to hold back the rising words. Jensen would tell him to quit whining like a bitch, but Jensen’s--Jared wills himself to take a good long look at his friend. Jensen’s barely recognizable and Jared doesn’t know if that makes this easier or not.

There are at least three IVs running into Jensen’s arms, the massive IV poles hung with tons of bags that Jared thinks looks like those damn orbital planes he studied in Baker’s Chemistry class back in San Antonio. The rise and fall of Jensen’s chest is controlled by the swish and click of the machine to the right of the bed. The monitor on the left side is attached to a bunch of leads and cuffs, playing out Jensen’s stats in multi-colored rises, falls, and numbers. The tubes running into Jensen’s nose and mouth are really the only color left on his friend’s bone-dry face. Jensen’s fever is still too high.

Jared finally opts to sit. His pacing always drives Jensen nuts, anyway. “So, uh…you gotta wake up eventually, man. Gotta stop trying to compete with the sun, too. They’re gonna try to turn you into a popsicle if you don’t.”

And how Jared wishes that was just a joke. He got to sit through the attending physician’s confirmation of the diagnosis and list of things that did nothing to ease Jared’s troubled mind. Brain damage, hearing loss, vision loss, hydro-something-or-other which basically means Jensen’s brain could swell, or worse, Jensen wouldn’t leave the hospital. Not to mention the secondary symptoms Jared refuses to think about.

The outlook depends on the speed of diagnosis, and Jared, being the kick ass friend he is, left Jensen sick and alone for almost five days. Doesn’t matter if the doctor thinks the symptoms didn’t kick in for a day or so. The doctor also has no problem admitting they think it’s a miracle Jensen’s alive, and it’ll be a bigger miracle if he stays that way. Hell, Jared’s amazed that Jensen’s family is even speaking to him.

“I’m so sorry, man.” Jared’s chin quivers, and his voice cracks like he’s back in junior high. But he doesn’t care. “I’m sorry. You gotta forgive me, okay, got to wake up alright. I won’t—I can’t…if you don’t…”

Jensen doesn’t give any indication he hears Jared, just lets the machines and medications do the work for him. It’s a fuckin’ overload of every emotion Jared thinks a human can experience. His body thrums with the collide and confusion of it all.

“Don’t worry. I called Eric.” Jared starts again, because his mind’s all over the damn place and he can’t seem to focus on even guilt-tripping at the moment. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. “He says you can have the time off. Ha, yeah…I know we’re on hiatus, but we get a longer one, so yeah for us. Can catch up on some sleep, right? I, uh…I’m not really sleeping. I saw you on ET though and Extra. I swear the world would mourn if you got a damn splinter, but you can’t do anything easy, can you? Eric says the mail box already has Get Well cards in it.”

Jared trails off, falling into silence, but never breaks eye contact with Jensen’s frail, motionless form.

XXXXX

Morning comes too fast, the sun peeks over the horizon and with it brings Donna and Alan looking as bone weary as Jared feels. He didn’t sleep at all, but he’s guessing neither have they. He takes the hint and exits quietly, shrugging off the gown and washing his hands in a daze before heading out to the waiting room.

“G’morning, baby,” Sandy greets, holding a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

Jared grunts a hello and grabs for the coffee cup, downing the hot, jet black liquid as quickly as possible. The rush makes his eyes blink rapidly, and he relishes that he’s made it to some form of alertness. “More?”

Sandy points to the machine in the corner, the half full pot glistening in the morning sun like Jared’s holy grail. “Did you get any sleep?”

Jared ignores the questions, figures that’s answer enough and pours himself another cup, nearly falling into a chair when he’s done. Sandy moves cautiously over to him. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Jared’s noticed, but that doesn’t mean his moods improved because of it.

Sandy’s nose crinkles in concern. “It’s been two…God, Jared…almost three days since you’ve really slept. Maybe you should go back to the house, sleep a little—“

“No,” Jared barks, so loud it hurts his throbbing head. “No, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Sandy shoots back, fire behind her sparkling eyes. “It’s not going to do anybody any good if you end up in here yourself.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Sandy,” Jared seethes, taking another gulp of his drink and choosing to stare at the taupe colored wall.

“I’m worried about you,” Sandy replies, hand resting on Jared’s forearm, “Did you eat yesterday?”

Jared holds up his cup with a weary smirk. “Wasn’t hungry. ‘Sides, coffee works.”

“Jared,” Sandy chides, lips forming a thin pout.

“What? I’m doing the best I can here, alright!” Jared snaps angrily, and Sandy jerks back. Jared regrets it, and reaches out to take Sandy’s hand, defeated. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Fucking everything up lately.”

“It’s not your fault, Jared,” Sandy assures, rubbing her thumb across the top of Jared’s hand.

Jared’s mind decides he wants to stand before his body catches up, and he sways precariously when he attempts to complete the motion. “Tell that to Jensen.”

“You think he would blame you for this? That makes no sense. Jared, he caught a bug,” Sandy counters, getting up and placing a firm hand on Jared’s side to brace her soon-to-be husband. “Baby, sometimes things just happen out of our control.”

“That’s bullshit.” Jared argues, and damn his head hurts, “I could’ve been there. Should’ve been there.”

Sandy looks hurt. Jared realizes that, but he can’t really bring himself to retract his statement either. The reality is he failed Jensen, and somehow that trumps spending time with his girl. It shouldn’t, should it? God, his head aches.

“Why don’t we get some breakfast and fresh air? Chris and Steve’s flight gets in soon, and I told them we’d pick them up. Jared? Did you hear me?”

“You go,” Jared mutters, finishing the last drop of coffee from his cup and heading for a refill.

Sandy’s hands go to her hips. “Baby, I really think—“

Jared meets her protest with a determined glare. “I left once, and look what happened. I’m not doing it again. I can’t.”

Sandy gets up on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on Jared’s stubble-laden cheek. “I brought you some clothes. Toothbrush and razor too. Clean up and try to take a nap, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jared murmurs as Sandy heads out into the hallway and wonders how the hell he’s going make it through today.

Release Me (2/?)

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 05:00:27 GMT

Title: Release Me (2/?)

Author: 3^rd-leg

Rating: PG14 for now

Disclaimer: As soon as the Crossroad demon shows up at the 4-way stop by my house, they so are…

Summary: Jared has a feeling something isn’t right. (h/c)

A/N: Thanks to my gal pal tru-faith for reading over this for me.

Release Me (2/?)

So the air's getting colder and the news keeps us scared—“Brothers” Brand New

Here’s the thing, Jared isn’t a very patient person. He tries, really he does, no matter what his parents or Sandy says. But waiting just isn’t his thing. In fact, Jared finds himself always giving things a mental time limit to play out. For instance, the doctor has exactly ten more minutes to get his ass out here or Jared will be forced to take action.

Let it be known, he’s being gracious because those paramedics need some serious lessons in interpersonal communication. You’d think they’d be sensitive enough to let him ride in the damn ambulance as a mere reassurance that his friend isn’t dead. Jensen had a fuckin’ tube down his throat and somebody doing the breathing for him when they carried him out the apartment for Christ’s sake. But nope, no way, and Sandy, well Sandy backed them so Jared really isn’t talking to her.

Call it pouting, but Jared doesn’t give a rat’s ass. Something’s wrong, massively wrong and Jared’s on the outside. He’s always been on the inside when it comes to things concerning Jensen mainly because he’s the only one around but still, point made.

“What the hell is taking so long?” Jared demands, knee bouncing in a crazed staccato.

“Baby, calm down, okay?” Sandy pleads, casting a nervous look around the ER waiting room and grimacing at the snot infested child wiping it on the chair next to her.

Jared’s eyes widen in barely contained frustration. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Jensen—“

“I’m scared too, but you flipping out isn’t going to help him,” Sandy replies quickly, crossing the small walkway between their rows of chairs and sitting on Jared’s lap, fingers finding their way his unruly hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Jared protests, his eyes misting over with the memory, “He was so hot, San, and wasn’t really, there wasn’t... What if—what if—“

“Jay, don’t,” Sandy cuts him off, palm cupping Jared’s cheek gently, “Did you call his parents?”

“Shit!” Jared exclaims, hand slamming down on the chair’s arm rest. “No, God, if it’s bad, Sandy, I don’t know if I can.”

“It’s gonna be—“

“Don’t say it, ‘cause you don’t know,” Jared reiterates, nudging Sandy off his lap and standing fast enough to almost throw her off balance. “They have two minutes before I go in there.”

Sandy sighs sympathetically and would’ve taken a seat if not for Jared’s sudden bolt toward the ER door. “Jared Tristan, don’t you dare!”

By sheer luck or maybe God was paying attention, the exact moment the security guard realizes Jared’s hell bent on entering, the door flies open and a smiling nurse appears calling Jared’s name. It’s a bit of a stop-start shuffle to get Jared to pay attention and well, look down to actually see the nurse. When he does, the tension doesn’t leave his posture.

“Mr. Padalecki, the doctor asked me to bring you back so he can speak with you,” the nurse informs quickly, holding the door open for both Jared and Sandy to enter. “Right this way.”

Jared was expecting the main hall of the ER, rows of beds, all that shit he saw when he guest starred on ER or, you know, broke his hand, again. But nope, what he got was another damn waiting room. Although this one had padded chairs and the nurse certainly thought he should be happy to see them.

Jared’s large hands form large fists very quickly. “Where’s Jensen?”

“The doctor will be in shortly,” the nurse replies, giving Jared that patented blank smile.
She leaves as rapidly as she had appeared. Jared can’t help it, he starts pacing. Walking is good for the brain anyways, gets the blood flowing. Sandy doesn’t think so, though.

“Baby, sit down,” Sandy instructs tenderly, taking a seat herself.

Jared pauses, face scrunched as he thinks. “Why can’t I see him?”

Sandy shakes her head and pats the seat next to her. Jared reluctantly acquiesces, and startles to look up and see a graying, scrub wearing ER doctor in the doorway.

“About time,” Jared snorts, ignoring the hard elbow to his ribcage courtesy of Sandy.

“Mr. Padalecki, I assume. I’m Dr. Ritcherd,” the doctor greets tensely, turning his attention to Sandy, “And you are?”

“His fiancée,” Sandy replies cheerfully. “Sandy.”

“Sandy, I’m afraid I’ll need to speak with Mr. Padalecki privately.” Dr. Ritcherd responds none too politely.

“She stays,” Jared snaps, grabbing Sandy’s hand as if to prove his point.

“Mr. Pada—“

“Jared.”

“Jared,” Dr. Ritcherd corrects impatiently, “You are Mr. Ackles’ legal proxy and that qualifies you alone to hear what I have to say. Unless she is family, there are legal requirements that I have to heed. You understand?”

Jared is more than willing to give this man a showdown, Texas cowboy style, but Sandy beats him to it. “It’s okay. I’ll be right outside, Jay.”

Jared watches Sandy exit the room and shoots the doctor a disapproving look. “You don’t have to be an asshole, she’s just concerned.”

“It’s called HIPAA, Jared,” Dr. Ritcherd retorts, ignoring the insult and settling down into a chair across from Jared. This wasn’t his first or last troublesome family member or friend he’d break news too.

“When can I see Jensen?” Jared questions nervously, the bitter tone he’d held earlier lost under rising concern as the doctor flips through a file and pulls out some stapled forms.

“You can’t,” Dr. Ritcherd responds, holding out the forms and silencing Jared’s protest with a shake of his head. “Jared, to be honest, I’m amazed Jensen has survived this long.”

Tears stung in the corners of Jared’s eyes and he swallowed back the raging beat of his heart. “He’s gonna be okay though, right? You can fix—what is this?”

Dr. Ritcherd glances down at the open file. “I’m fairly certain it’s bacterial meningitis. It explains the intense temperature, nausea, and decreased consciousness.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Jared demands, papers crushing within his clenching grip.

“It means,” Dr. Ritcherd begins, reaching out and tugging on the medical forms near tearing in Jared’s hands. “I need your signature to perform a spinal tap to verify the diagnosis. It’s the only clear way to determine what type of bacteria we are dealing with and whether or not my assumption is correct.”

“You want to put a fuckin’ needle in his back?” Jared’s reply sounds a whole lot like a screech but he can’t help it. Bottom line, he’s heard those things hurt like a bitch, and it’s his signature on the damn paper. “There’s got to be something else you can do.”

“Jared, you have to understand,” the graying doctor’s tone takes on a more soothing timbre, and Jared wonders just when he became a fucking caged animal. “We managed to stabilize Jensen, but barely. He’s hanging on, but the rate at which this disease spreads…I’m not sure how much more his system can take. Rapid response when symptoms appear is needed, and Jensen had at least a four day period where no action was taken. Most people wouldn’t have made it that long. We have to figure out what we are dealing with, and start acting or—“

If Jared could, he’d be covering his ears right about now, but he can’t move. He just can’t. “Or what? Or what? He dies? Is that it? Is that what the fuck you’re trying to tell me?”

“I’m telling you that you need to sign these papers, and you need to call his family,” Dr. Ritcherd answers calmly, “Hopefully, I’ll have something conclusive to tell you then.”

“Where is he?” Jared chokes out, words breaking under the quivering of his chin. “Please, can I—I need see him.”

“He’s still in the ER, but we’ll be moving him to ICU after the procedure,” Dr. Ritcherd states, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jared, I think it’d be better if you waited until we have Jensen settled into a room. Trust me on that, okay? We’re taking care of him.”

Jared doesn’t understand why the medical forms have wet splotches on them all of a sudden, really he doesn’t. He takes the doctor’s pen all the same and signs. Jared really hopes this doesn’t make Jensen worse than he already is.

The doctor’s gone shortly after, but Jared doesn’t even see him leave, just hangs his head, trying desperately to stop his body from shaking and all the water from running down his face. A warm hand presses onto the hunch of his back, and Jared tilts his head to see Sandy’s quivering smile.

“Baby,” Sandy whispers, soft hands wiping tears from Jared’s flushes cheeks. “Jensen’s strong, okay? He’ll fight.”

“What if he can’t?” Jared mutters brokenly, refusing to meet Sandy’s gaze. “I have to call his family. God…I gotta—work, and, and--”

“Taken care of,” Sandy assures gently, “Well, the family anyway. Look at me, baby, believe me. It’s gonna work out, okay?”

Jared lifts his head only to shake it in refusal. “I don’t believe that. Sandy, why don’t I believe that?”