Imperative (Ever After Fic) - Part IV

[ancastar]

Imperative - Part IV



“Jensen?”
Jared was in the yard when Jensen came barreling down the lane towards him on his borrowed horse, Tom riding after him at similar breakneck speed.

“Jared!  Thank God, you’re here.  Thank God.  I need your help!”

His two dogs leaping and yipping with excitement, Jared came to meet Jensen when he climbed down from his saddle.  “Jensen, what is it?” he asked, taking hold of Jensen’s arms and looking at him with concern.  “Are you hurt?  What’s wrong?”

“It’s not me,” Jensen said, trying to catch his breath.  “It’s my father.”

“Your father?” Jared echoed.

“Yes.  I can hardly believe it myself,” Jensen said, holding on to Jared now as well.  “When I went missing, the king sent members of his guard to look for me.  Only they found my father instead.”

“But that’s…that’s wonderful.  Amazing.”  Jared pulled Jensen into his arms.  “I’m happy for you.  So happy.”

“The only thing is he’s sick, Jared.  Really sick,” Jensen said, pulling back just a bit so he could look in Jared’s eyes.  “I don’t know what those monsters have done to him, but he’s wasted away to almost nothing, and I can’t wake him.”

“He was conscious when we found him, and surprisingly alert,” Tom said as he dismounted.  “But he passed out when we tried to move him.  He’s only opened his eyes for brief periods of time since and hasn’t spoken.”

“Jared, this is Tom.  He’s a captain in the king’s guard and an old friend,” Jensen said, finally leaving Jared’s embrace.  “Tom, this is Jared.  He’s the one who saved me.”

“Do you think you can save Jensen’s father?” Tom asked.

Jared swallowed hard, then nodded.  “I can certainly try.  Where is he?”

“On his way here with Tom’s men,” Jensen said.  “It’s slow going with the wagon-particularly with how narrow the path is through the forest-but I’d expect they’ll be here before nightfall.”

“Good,” Jared said.  “That gives me plenty of time.”

“What do you need us to do?” Tom asked.

“Help me get ready.”

Working together, the three men prepared for the arrival of Jensen’s father.  They aired out the cottage and changed the bedding, chopped plenty of wood and hauled water in from the well, and while Tom and Jensen cleaned everything to Jared’s exacting standards, Jared mixed tinctures and teas, and hung a pot of vegetable broth over the fire.

“If your father is as weak as you say, we’re going to need to get some food inside him to help build up his strength,” Jared said, when Jensen and he were alone in the cottage.  “It should be something simple at first.  Start with this soup and maybe some bread.  Try to get him to eat and drink something as soon as he wakes up, regardless of whether he’s hungry or not.”

"Do you think he will?” Jensen asked, wishing he sounded more hopeful.  “Wake up, I mean.”

“I’ll do all I can, Jensen,” Jared said, taking Jensen’s hand in his.  “You have my word.”

“Thank you,” Jensen said, stretching up to press a kiss to Jared’s cheek.  “I knew I could count on you.”

Seemingly flustered, Jared’s cheeks darkened and he had trouble meeting Jensen’s eyes.  When Tom entered the room, his arms filled with firewood, Jared ducked around Jensen and towards the door.

“I think I better tend to my animals now, before everyone gets here,” he said, speaking more to Tom than to Jensen.  “There won’t be time tonight.  If you’ll excuse me.”

Tom deposited his load of firewood beside the hearth and began stacking it.  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on between you two?”

Jensen turned around, frowning.  “What are you talking about?”

“The door was open,” Tom said, clearly amused.  “I saw the kiss.”

“It was nothing,” Jensen said.  “We grew close when I was staying here.  That’s all.  Don’t let your imagination run away with you.”

Tom lifted his eyebrows and smiled.  “If you say so.”

Jared called out from outside.  “Jensen, they’re here!”

Jensen and Tom rushed outside to meet the wagon.  It came bumping along the path leading to Jared’s house, its escorts leading the way.  Daisy and Clarence welcomed everyone by barking and running alongside.

“Has there been any change?” Jensen asked, coming around the back of the wagon, with Jared trailing closely behind.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said a member of the guard unfamiliar to Jensen.  He was riding in the wagon, kneeling by Jensen’s father’s side.  “I’ve been keeping an eye on him, but his condition has remained the same.”

Jensen nodded.  “Give us a moment with him, would you?”

“Yes, sir.”

As soon as there was space, Jensen and Jared climbed up onto the wagon bed, one on each side of Jensen’s father.

Jared knelt down and began examining his new patient.  Jensen watched him work, Jared’s touch gentle yet thorough as he tried to see what he was up against.  “You were right to bring him to me, Jensen.  I’m sorry, but he’s very ill.”

“Can you save him?” Jensen asked, hating the way his voice caught and unraveled when he asked the question.  Filled with fear and grief, he couldn’t stop a tear that trickled down his cheek.  “Please, Jared.  Please do all you can to help him live.”

An odd kind of shiver rolled like a wave over Jared from head to toe, shaking him so hard Jensen could actually see it.  Closing his eyes, Jared sucked in a great, deep breath and shook his head.

Jensen laid his hand over Jared’s wrist.  “Are you all right?”

Jared met his gaze, but seemed distracted.  “Yes, I’m sorry.  I just…we need to get started.”

Jensen nodded.  “All right.  I’ll ask some of the men to help us get Father settled inside.”

Jumping out of the wagon, Jensen asked two of the guards to bring his father’s litter into the cottage.  Once inside, Jared and he assisted them in transferring the sick man into the bed.

“Thank you,” Jared said once his patient was settled.  “Now I must ask that all of you wait outside.”

“I want to stay,” Jensen said, coming closer to the bed, even as the other two men were leaving.

“I’m sorry, Jensen,” Jared said.  “But you need to go too.”

“He’s my father, Jared-“

“That doesn’t matter,” Jared said with an urgency Jensen couldn’t remember seeing in him before.  “Not this time.  I need privacy to do what I have to do and time is of the essence.  Please…just go.”

Jensen wanted to argue, but he wanted his father alive more.  “All right.”  He turned towards the door.

“Jensen!”

Jensen turned and Jared was right there.  Before Jensen could speak, Jared cradled Jensen’s face in his hands, tilting it upwards, and giving him a sweet and lasting kiss.

“I’m going to do everything I can to save your father,” Jared said softly when their lips had parted, Jensen’s face still held as if it were something fragile in his hands.  “But I need you to remember something.”

“What?” Jensen asked, his hands covering Jared’s.

“I would have done this even if you hadn’t asked,” Jared said, releasing him, something indefinable shining in his eyes.  “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Jensen said.  “Yes, of course I do.  I know what kind of man you are.”

“Good,” Jared said, his relief evident.  “See that you remember that.  It’s important to me that you do.”

“All right, I will,” Jensen said.  “I promise.”

“Go outside, Jensen,” Jared said, his voice gentle.  “Go and wait.  This will take some time.  You’ll know when to come back inside.”

It all sounded rather cryptic.  But after their time together, Jensen had gotten used to Jared’s eccentricities.  “I’m going, I’m going.”  But before he did, Jensen returned to his father’s bedside.  “Father keep fighting.  Keep living.  Let Jared help you.  I’ll be here waiting.”  He bent down and kissed his father’s forehead.

Returning to Jared, Jensen wrapped his arms around him one last time, and hugged him tight.  “Good luck, Jared, and thank you.  Yet again.”

Jared smiled and gave him a little wave.  “Goodbye.”

Unsure what to make of such a farewell, Jensen joined Tom and his men, and left Jared to do what only he could do.

*
Hours passed.

The night was cool, so the men built a roaring bonfire and settled around it to eat the evening meal.  Afterwards, the group splintered, each man following his own pursuits.  Some started up a game of dice.  A few played with the dogs.  Another made friends with Tabitha and sat cross-legged in front of the fire, the cat purring contentedly in his lap.  Others simply lay back and looked at the stars.  As far as they were concerned, their mission was accomplished.  What had been lost had been found.

Tom did all he could to distract Jensen-offering food, ale and conversation.  Not necessarily in that order.  But Jensen was having none of it.  All his focus was on the nearby cottage and the two men inside of it.  The tension inside him coiled tighter and tighter.  It frightened him to think of how he might react when it all finally got released.

At long last, the cottage door opened.

Exhausted though he was, Jensen shot to his feet.  “Jared!  What news?”

A man appeared in the doorway, his form only a shadow from a distance.   Yet the silhouette was not as Jensen would have expected.  Instead of it representing a man in his prime, someone tall and broad-shouldered and strong, the outline here was more delicate, its posture stooped.

That wasn’t Jared…

“Jensen?”

Jensen went lightheaded with relief.  “Father?”

“Son?  Oh, my son.”  His gait unsteady, his father started towards him.

Jensen ran to intercept him, unashamed of the tears running freely down his cheeks.  He’d dreamed of hearing that voice again for so very long.  Tears were the least of what such a moment was due.

When he reached his father, Jensen took him into his arms, sickened by how fragile his father felt, how shaky, but relieved beyond all measure he was awake and seemingly much improved.

“I’d been so worried,” Jensen confessed, his arms wrapped tightly around his father, his words muttered into the side of his neck.  “I was so afraid we’d left it too late, that rescue hadn’t come in time.  God…I hadn’t dared dream you might still be alive.”

“Benedict had counted on that,” his father said.  “I was his insurance, his backup if all else failed.  What he didn’t realize was that neglecting me long enough almost caused me to fail.”

Jensen pulled away enough to look at him.  His father looked so much better than he had only hours earlier.  He was still frighteningly thin and it was obvious his strength had been greatly depleted.  Still, he had color in his face and light in his eyes.  He seemed alert, his speech and mind clear.

“This is such a blessing,” Jensen blurted out, smiling so widely his cheeks burned with the stretch.  His father smiled back at him.  “Jared truly is a miracle worker.”

“Jared?” his father asked, frowning.  “Is that the boy by the bed?”

“Yes, Father,” Jensen said.  “He’s the one who saved you, the one who saved me too, come to that.”

His father began to sag, and Jensen knew it was time to get him back inside.  “Jensen, you need to go to him.”

“I plan to,” Jensen said, his arm now wrapped around his father’s waist as he led him back to the cottage.  “We need to celebrate.  But first, you need to sit down.”

“No, you don’t understand.  I think there may be something wrong.”

His father’s words sent a current of uneasiness running through Jensen, and he hastened their pace, eager to check in on Jared and make his father more comfortable.

When they reached the open doorway, Jensen saw Jared seated by the bed, slumped over so his upper body rested on this mattress, his face buried in the bedclothes.  Jensen lowered his father carefully onto a chair at the table.  He pushed to the side Jared’s chess set, with the pieces still in place from their game the night before.  “Give me just a minute, Father.”

“Of course.”

Trying not to worry, he crossed to kneel beside Jared.  “Jared,” he said softly, smoothing his hand over Jared’s rumpled hair and down his back.  “Jared, are you all right?”

There was no reply.

Perhaps Jared was simply exhausted after his efforts, Jensen thought.  He could remember what Jared had looked like after that first night of caring for him.

He shook him, first gently, then harder.  “Jared, come on.  If you’re tired, let’s put you to bed.”

Still no response.

Jensen stood, his heart beginning to thunder inside his chest.  His father was right.  Something was very wrong.  “Jared, please.”  Bending down, he looped his arms around Jared’s middle and heaved, lifting Jared up and over so that he flipped onto his back and landed on the bed, his legs hanging over the side.

“Oh, my God…”

In a few short hours, Jared had changed.  His face had turned as pale and gray as morning fog, the lines etched there by sunshine and smiles carved more deeply than before.  His skin seemed thinner too, practically translucent as it stretched over too prominent bones, the area around his eyes dark like bruises, his lips parched and cracked.

“No,” Jensen murmured, shaking his head.  “No, no, no…  Tom!  Tom, get in here!”

“Jensen, what is it?” his father asked.   “Is the boy dead?”

“Not yet,” Jensen said, reaching down to lift Jared’s legs up onto the bed and pull the covers up over him.

“What’s wrong?” Tom said, standing in the doorway breathing hard.

“I don’t know,” Jensen said, turning to him.  “I don’t know what’s wrong.  It’s Jared.”

“What can I do?” Tom asked, stepping into the room.

“Send someone to Westerly, and have them fetch Eleanor,” Jensen said.  “We need her after all.”

“I’ll have a rider set out at once,” Tom said.  “But Jensen, it’ll be days before they return.”

Tom didn’t need to finish his thought.  Jensen heard the unspoken words so loudly they may as well have been shouted.

By then, it could be too late.

“I know,” Jensen said, swallowing back his fear.

“Consider it done.”  Tom turned to leave, but before making his exit, he looked in the direction of Jensen’s father, who was sitting at the table, the black knight in his hand.  “Sir, if I may say, it’s a relief to have you up and around.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Jensen’s father replied.  “I appreciate the sentiment.”

With a final nod, Tom left to find a rider.

Jensen ran his hand over his hair, torn as to what should take priority.  He wanted to look after Jared, but his father also needed his care.

First things first.

“Jared gave me strict instructions to see that you ate something when you woke up,” Jensen said, crossing to the counter to retrieve a bowl and a slice of bread.  “Can you do that for me, while I take care of him?”

“Yes,” his father said.  “Don’t worry about me.  Tend to your friend.  He’s in greater need.”

And so Jensen did.  While his father ate, Jensen got Jared undressed and tucked beneath several layers of bedding.  As he strove to make Jared more comfortable, Jensen couldn’t help but be unnerved by how lifeless he was, the slackness of Jared’s face, the limp yet heavy weight of his limbs.  Save for the times when he was meditating, Jared always seemed to Jensen to be in motion.   His current eerie stillness made his body appear more like a shell than a living, breathing being.  Not once while Jensen worked did Jared ever rouse.

“How do you know this Jared?”  Jensen’s father asked when he was finished eating, pushing aside his empty bowl.

“He helped me when I was hurt,” Jensen said, sitting by Jared’s bedside and pushing Jared’s hair gently from his brow.  Jared was cold.  Why was he so cold?

“What did he tell you about himself?” his father asked, reaching out to run his fingertip gently over the black bishop’s ruined cap.

Jensen shook his head.  “Not much.  His father was a physician who'd moved his family out here years ago.  Jared inherited the house when his parents died, and stayed here on his own to farm the land.”

“His father was a court physician,” Jensen’s father said quietly.  “A physician to King Lawrence himself.”

For just a moment, his father’s words made no sense.  They were so outlandish, Jensen heard them as only as gibberish.  Then slowly, meaning began to form.  “What?” Jensen asked, coming to his feet.  “I don’t understand.  Are you saying you knew him?”  He came and stood opposite his father, who looked up at him from the table, the black bishop in his hand.

“I’m saying he was my friend,” his father said, setting the bishop back on the board.  “His name was Benjamin, and his wife was named Esme.  I knew Jared too when he was very little.  I knew them all.”

Jensen frowned.  “But how can you be certain the people you knew were Jared and his family.  His name is not uncommon.”

His father laid his hand on the chess board.  “I know this board and these pieces.  Benjamin was the best chess player I’ve ever met, and we played many a match.  I’ve held these pieces in my hand countless times.  I even know how this one…” he touched the battered bishop “…got these marks.”

“From Jared’s baby teeth,” Jensen murmured, amazed.

“He told you,” his father said.

“That, but not much else,” Jensen said.

“I can tell you the rest,” his father said.  “I believe it may explain why your friend has suddenly taken ill.”

“Please, Father,” Jensen said, sitting at the table and taking hold of his father’s hands.  “Tell me everything.”

His father nodded.  “Benjamin was a very talented physician.  He had many friends, including the king, and Esme was one of the queen’s most trusted ladies-in-waiting.  When Jared was newly born, it seemed their life was perfect, with no shadow on the horizon.”

“Until they made an enemy,” Jensen said, remembering when Jared told him part of his story.

“They didn’t make an enemy,” his father said.  “Jared did.”

Jensen let go of his father and sat back in his chair.  “I don’t understand.”

“It was shortly after Jared’s first birthday,” his father said, folding his hands on the table in front of him.  “The court magician, a man of great ability and little patience, named Maurice the Magnificent, was performing his latest enchantment at the king and queen’s anniversary gala.  Everyone was there, even children.  It was a family event.

“Unfortunately, just at the height of the trick, when the tension was the greatest and the magician most needed to concentrate to pull the illusion off, Jared cried out, as children often do, shattering the silence and destroying what the magician had been trying to create.”

“This Maurice person got angry at a child for crying?” Jensen asked in disbelief.

His father shrugged.  “Maurice was temperamental and not a fan of children.  Humiliated in front of those whose opinions mattered to him most, he cursed young Jared, casting a spell over him that forced the child to be obedient.”

“That doesn’t sound too terribly bad,” Jensen said, having expected far worse.

“You’re wrong,” his father said, not unkindly.  “Imagine-from that moment forward, Jared was compelled to do whatever he was told to do.  He couldn’t argue, couldn’t fight.  It didn’t matter if the directive was safe or moral or correct.  He had to obey, and he could never, ever tell anyone he was under the control of such powerful magic.”

Jensen thought back on his time in Jared’s company, remembering the moments that had struck him as odd-the times when Jared had said something unexpected or acted in a way that was surprising.  Jensen recalled what had happened at the market and blushed when reminded of Jared’s complete submission the first time they’d made love.

Then suddenly, it hit him.

“Oh, my God,” Jensen said with dawning horror.  He pushed to his feet and looked over towards Jared.  “Father, I’d asked Jared to help you, to do all he could to save your life.  Is that why he’s like this now?  Am I to blame?”

His father hesitated a moment before speaking.  “I suspect healing me is the cause of Jared’s current condition.  But you’re not to blame.”

“Of course, I am!” Jensen said, crossing towards Jared and then back again.  He wanted to touch Jared, but almost felt as if he’d forfeited that right.  “God…  Look at him!  I did that.  I brought him into our family drama without ever thinking about the cost to him.”

“You couldn’t have known,” his father insisted.  “About the curse or Jared’s illness.”

That stopped Jensen cold.  “Wait…what are you talking about?  What illness?”

“Young Jared didn’t only have to contend with Maurice’s curse, but with the illness he’d been born with,” Jensen’s father said.

“He never mentioned anything about being ill,” Jensen said.

“No doubt he was managing it,” his father said.  “Benjamin told me about it when Jared was still in his cradle.  The boy was born with a disease that in most children would have killed him before he reached adulthood.”

“Then why is Jared still alive?” Jensen asked.

“As the disease is terminal, Jared’s father couldn’t cure him completely,” Jensen’s father said.  “But every day he would treat him, regulating Jared’s energy to keep him healthy.”

Jensen went to Jared’s bedside.  “But Jared’s father has been dead for over a year, and Jared was doing fine…until tonight.”

“If a person is a physician, their children are too,” Jensen’s father said.

Jensen turned to look at him.  “Jared said he didn’t have the gift.”

“I suspect your friend may have lied to you.”

Jensen nodded, coming to that same conclusion.  “His meditation.  He did it every day.  He said it made him feel better.  I just thought it was silly, an affectation.”

“Perhaps that was Jared healing himself,” his father said.  “If I had to make a guess, I’d say the effort he made to heal me depleted the resources he’d normally reserve for his own needs.  His illness is a wasting disease.  Energy ebbs until the body shuts down completely.  That looks like what might be happening to him now.”

It did.  It really did.

Jensen’s head was buzzing with information, so much of it new and shaking the very foundation of what he’d thought to be real and true.

He sank down on the bed and touched Jared’s cheek, his hair, the faint pulse fluttering, quick and light, beneath his skin.

“I can’t let you die, Jared,” Jensen said.  “I can’t.  I love you, you idiot.  How could you let this happen?  How could you go through with what I’d asked, knowing what it would do to you?”

“I would have done this even if you hadn’t asked.  Do you believe me?  See that you remember that.  It’s important to me that you do.”

Jared had known, had known saving Jensen’s father would likely kill him, and he hadn’t cared.  As if his own life wasn’t worth anything, and there would be no one to mourn him when he was gone.

And suddenly Jensen was livid, yet had an idea as to how he might be able to set this all right.

Moving closer, Jensen lifted Jared into his arms so that Jared’s head was propped on his shoulder and his chest rested against Jensen’s.  Burying his face in Jared’s hair, his mouth close to Jared’s ear, Jensen spoke.  “You're going to listen to me, Jared.  Because I know your secret now and I know you don’t have any choice.  You are going to live.  Do you hear me?  You’re going to get better, grow strong and live, live until you’re old and decrepit, and mixing up that awful joint medicine for you to use, not to sell.  I know you’re tired and I know it’s got to be hard to undo what you’ve done.  But I don’t care-do as I say and live.”

Jared stirred against him, ever so slightly, the movement not much more than a twitch, but it was enough to make Jensen’s eyes fill with tears and his heart fill with hope.

“That’s it,” he crooned, cradling Jared to him as he stretched out with him on the bed.  “Live.  Come on, Jared, you can do it.  Just live.”

“Jensen?” His father was standing now and looking at him with wonder.

“He’s listening to me, Father, and as long as he is, I can do this,” Jensen said.  “Thanks to you, I really believe I can.  I’m sorry to ask this, but can you leave us?  I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night, and the things I have to say are for Jared’s ears alone.”

“I understand,” his father said, smiling.  “Do your best to save the man who saved us both.  I have faith in you, son.  I think you can do this too.”

“Thank you,” Jensen said.

Jensen’s father left the cottage, leaving Jared and Jensen alone, and locked in each other’s arms.  Jensen spent a long and sleepless night, holding Jared close and whispering in his ear.  He reminded Jared again and again of how badly he wanted Jared to get better, how much he needed him, how important it was that Jared choose life instead of sacrifice.

But he also told Jared how much he loved him, sharing with him words of praise and promise, telling him how he envisioned their life together might be, if only Jared would do his part and survive.

Hours passed, and Jensen talked himself hoarse.  Exhaustion set in just before dawn, making his brain fog over like steamy glass and his vision blur.  As much as he fought it, Jensen could feel himself beginning to run down.  He didn’t know for much longer he would have energy to hold off sleep and continue talking, or even if his words were making any sort of impact at all.

Then suddenly something extraordinary occurred.

Jared sighed from his place in Jensen’s arms, and whispered Jensen’s name.

Rolling Jared over onto his back, Jensen pushed up on shaky arms and looked down at the man he loved.  Jared’s eyes were open and gazing up at him.  Color had returned to his cheeks and the shadows had disappeared from all hollows.  He appeared tired, but like himself.  Alive.

Thank God.

Woozy with weariness and relief, all Jensen wanted to do was fling himself into Jared’s arms and sleep for a week.  But instead he wagged his finger and croaked, “You scared me half to death.  Do you hear me?  Don’t ever do anything like that again.”

Jared blinked, his brow furrowed as if uncertain of his crime.  “All right.”

Chuckling at the confusion he could see writ large on Jared’s face, Jensen shook his head, then leaned down and kissed Jared on the cheek.  “It is all right.  Everything is all right now that you are.  I have a lot more to say to you, much of it uncomplimentary.  But it can wait until you feel better.  Get some sleep.  We’ll talk more when you’re rested.”

“Not until I have my say,” Jared murmured with a stubborn glint in his eye.

“Jared...”  Sitting up now, the covers pooling around him, Jensen raised his eyebrows.  “Are you disobeying me?”

Jared thought about it for a moment.  “You know…I think maybe I am.”

Jensen needed to be sure.  “Touch your nose.”

Jared lay still.

“Say your name.”

A slow smile shaping his lips, Jared remained silent.

“Count to ten.”

Grinning now, Jared shook his head.

“Oh, my God,” Jensen said, pulling Jared up to sit beside him.  “Oh, my God, Jared.  Do you know what this means?”

“That I’m free of the curse?” Jared said.

“So it would appear,” Jensen replied, reeling him in for another enthusiastic hug.

“I think all this talk of living when I was so close to death may have burned it out,” Jared said.

“I don’t like it when you talk about dying,” Jensen muttered, pulling away.

“As it turns out, I don’t really like doing it,” Jared said, taking his hand.

“Why did you?” Jensen said, meeting his eyes.  “Why were you willing to give your life for the life of a man you didn’t even know?”

“I wasn’t giving it for him,” Jared said, pressing a kiss to the back of Jensen’s hand, then releasing it.  “I was giving it for you.”

Jensen shook his head.  “Jared…”

“Do you remember when I’d told you I wasn’t able to save my father’s life?” Jared asked.

“Yes,” Jensen said.  “I remember.”

“I wasn’t able to save him because he wouldn’t let me,” Jared said.  “I could have done it.  I’ve had the gift since I was a child.  Hell, I’d been saving myself for years, even when my father was still alive.  But he forbade me.  He told me under no circumstance was I to even try.”

“I’m sorry,” Jensen said softly.

“So you see, I know what that feels like.”  Jared smiled sadly.  “And I didn’t want you to lose your father a second time.  I couldn’t be with you, not with the curse hanging over me, but I could bring your father back.  It was my gift to you.”

“Next time, buy me a new goblet or a sword or something,” Jensen said, leaning in close to make his point.  “I don’t want your life, Jared, not unless you’re willing to share it with me.”

Jared nodded, his gaze focused on the bedclothes.  “If you recall, I’d told you I had something to say.”

“I do,” Jensen said.  “So say it.  I’m more tired than I’ve ever been in my life, and I can’t guarantee how much longer I’ll be able to keep my eyes open, so you better do it quickly.”

"All right."  Jared scooted closer and reaching out, cradled Jensen’s cheek in his palm.  “You may not realize it, but at some level, I heard every word you said to me last night.”

“You did?”

“I did.  And I want you to know I love you too.  I’ve loved you forever it seems, and it killed me to watch you walk away and know I would have to spend the rest of my life without you.”

“Stop talking about dying,” Jensen mumbled, though he was only teasing.

“All right,” Jared said, lowering his hand.  “I’ll talk about living instead.  I want to do that, to live with you, for the rest of my life.  So if you still want me to come back to Westerly with you, I’d like to go.”

Jensen smiled.  “Well…I don’t know,” he said, cocking his head, his eyes narrowed playfully.  “What’s in it for me?”

“I’d let you boss me around some,” Jared said, smiling, then shrugged.  “You know…for old time’s sake.”

Jensen arched his brow.  “Is that offer good in bed?”

Jared nodded.  “Especially in bed.”

“I like the sound of that,” Jensen said, kissing him.  “But you know what I’d like even more?”

“Sleep?” Jared ventured.

“Exactly,” Jensen said, pulling Jared down with him, so he was able to lay his head on Jared’s chest.  “And trust me-you’re going to need your rest.”

“Why’s that?” Jared asked, combing his fingers through Jensen’s hair.

“Well, for one thing, I’m going to introduce you to my father,” Jensen said, closing his eyes.

“Meeting the parents?” Jared said, his words beginning to blend together.  “Isn’t that awfully sudden?”

“Not sudden,” Jensen murmured, realizing the truth in those words.  “Not sudden at all.”

*

The Happily Ever After End

Masterpost
Part I
Part II
Part III