Fic - Jensen/Jared - The Past Never Stays There - chapter 8/14 - NC17 possibly, probably
Title : The Past Never Stays There - Chapter 8/14
Author : angels3 aka Angela
Beta : munimula - who is the best beta ever and any mistakes left are so mine, and there will probably be a plenty as I had to rework some things after she sent it back to me. I hope I got all the mistakes as I had to do this twice. Don't ask you don't want to know
Word Count : 6767
Pairing : Jensen/Jared
Supporting Characters : Eric, Kim, Sera, Mike, Tom, Chris, Steve, Chad, Kylan (who is a figmant of my imagination
Disclaimers : They don't belong to me because if they did.............................
Warnings : This has worried me I don't know how to word this. There will be NO rape, but there will be non consenual touching and such. It's the darkest stuff I've written to date, it will be the darkest this story gets though so once through this chapter you're in the clear of the sexual drama/trauma.
Notes : I've actually held this chapter for 24 hours something I've never done before. One because I've had a not so nice allergic reaction to the medicine I'm on, two I had to work, three it was tax free weekend in the states and I had to get the kids outfitted for school and four I was contemplating the homicide of my husband (he's still breathing). Honestly though this chapter for some reason has not been my friend. Muni swears it's fine and she liked it. I trust her completely, but I'm still worried silly.
Chapters - 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12a 12b 13a 13b 14
Kylan
PDF for The Past Never Stays There
Jared thought about calling and checking on Jensen, but he knew his boyfriend was starting to feel smothered. Jensen enjoyed being with his friends, but he also had to have his down time, when it was just him and whatever he had chosen to do in order to decompress. Three hours into the interview and photo shoot, Chris appeared at the door, worry creasing his forehead.
"Hey can you take a break?" Chris asked.
"Yeah, what's wrong?" Jared asked, signaling that he needed a minute.
"Have you tried to call Jensen?"
"No. Why?" He responded, fear stealing its way down his spine.
"I can't get hold of Steve and Jensen's phone keeps going to voicemail. It's been like that for the last fifteen minutes. I thought maybe you'd talked to him." Chris said, running his fingers through his hair.
"Let me tell them I have to go." Jared said, already pulling off the audio equipment. "You go get the truck. I'll meet you out front."
Jared quickly explained that an emergency had come up and promised to reschedule. He exited the building, panic speeding his already long stride into overdrive.
"I called the detective," Chris said as Jared buckled his seat belt.
"What did he say?"
"He'd get dispatch to call the car and find out what was going on, then he'd give us a call back," Chris answered, accelerating around slower moving traffic, which at the moment was all of it.
"Chad and Mike were supposed to be heading over there a couple of hours ago. Did you try them?" Jared asked.
"Yeah, Steve told them to come by a little later. Jen was just getting up from a nap and talking about taking a shower, and then they were going to sit down with the guitars for a little while. Steve thought it would help calm some of Jensen's nerves. They're headed over now but we'll still probably beat them."
Jared's phone started chirping, cutting off his reply. He glanced down, praying it was Jensen, but it was Detective Patterson's number on the screen.
"Hello," Jared answered, heart in his throat.
"Jared, I'm on my way over to your house. Dispatch can't get the officer to answer. I don't want you going in before I get there. Do you understand?" Garrett's gruff voice cut across the line.
"Yeah, I understand," Jared responded.
"But it doesn't mean you're going to listen does it?" Garrett sighed.
"No, I'm sorry. If Jensen and Steve are in trouble, I'm not going to stand outside and wait for someone to show up while they're being hurt."
"I didn't think so. Just watch yourself okay?" Garrett said before hanging up.
"We'll be there in a minute. How do you want to go in?" Chris asked, tightening his grip on the wheel as he took a corner at speeds twice the posted limit.
"I'd say front and side. The dogs were in the back yard, so I don't see anybody trying that way, unless they wanted to take them on." Jared paused, he hadn't even thought about the dogs being hurt.
Chris glanced over at Jared's silence, noticing the stricken look.
"I'm sure they're fine Jared. He's not going to make it obvious he's there. If the dogs suddenly went quiet or nuts it'd give the game away. Do you want front or side?"
"I'll go side, you go front." Jared figured if anyone got jumped it would be him since the garage had a few places to hide in.
"We should drive by the patrol car, shouldn't we?" Jared asked.
"Unless he moved from this morning, he should be on our side of the road, why?"
"Because if he's not answering his radio, I want to check on him," Jared answered, even though everything in him clambered that he find Jensen first.
Chris gave a short nod, not trusting himself to speak. He knew it was the right thing to do, but the delay made him grind his teeth together to keep from yelling in frustration.
Jared grabbed for the dashboard as Chris swung onto their street, coming to a tire screeching halt beside the police car. They could already see the slumped form of the officer behind the wheel. Jared
jumped out, and gently leaned the man back. Chris was cussing a blue streak behind him, already calling for help.
"Is he alive?" Chris shouted.
Jared felt for a pulse, finally finding a slow thready tap against his fingers.
"Yeah, but he's not doing good. Tell them it's a cop and to hurry the fuck up," Jared yelled back.
Jared leaned through the window and covered the man with a blanket the best he could around the zip ties that bound his hands to the wheel. He jumped back in the truck and Chris floored it the last few feet to the driveway, Jared was out of the truck before it came to a complete stop. He entered the garage, not bothering to be quiet. figuring if Kylan were still here he would've already heard the trucks approach.
He quickly made his way to the bedroom, already knowing Jensen was gone. The house was too quiet, and the dogs were outside at the backdoor whining to be let in. The bedroom was humid where Jensen had obviously taken a shower, water still on the floor, puddles still apparent from when he'd gotten out. Jared stood looking around, trying to determine how long they'd been gone. He didn't think it could have been too long, since the floor hadn't had a chance to dry. At most he guessed, maybe, thirty minutes.
Jared was pulled out of his thoughts by frantic shouting. He rushed down the hall, skidding to a stop when he caught sight of Chris desperately searching for a pulse on Steve's still body.
"Jared! He's not breathing," Chris' voice broke.
Jared knelt down beside Steve, taking in the blue tint to his lips, and the graying parlor of his skin. He gently pushed Chris toward Steve's head.
"You breath for him, I'll do the chest compressions. Help will be here soon," Jared reassured, clearing his mind and starting the count.
Chris nodded shakily and cleared Steve's airway, refusing to think of anything but the repetition of breathing for his boyfriend.
Jared had no idea how long they had been doing CPR. He never heard Chad and Mike come in, both yelling into their phones for help. He never registered the ambulances sirens screaming outside the house, only becoming aware of the EMT's when Mike and Chad pulled him away from Steve so the professionals could take over. Jared's arms vacillated between feeling like lead weights and jello, the strain starting to make him shake all over.
Chris refused to move more than a few feet away and when they set the paddles to Steve's chest and sent the pulse of electrical current to his heart. A sound tore from Chris that Jared hoped he never heard from another human being, as long as he lived. It took another jolt from the defib unit and a shot of adrenaline to get Steve's heart beating at a rhythm where they felt comfortable enough to move him. When the ambulance pulled away, Chris was in the back, holding onto Steve's hand. Jared didn't envy the person that tried to separate them at the hospital.
Tom made it to the house just as the ambulance was leaving and he volunteered to follow it to the hospital so Chris wouldn't be alone. Mike and Chad were sitting in the living room trying to stay out of the crime scene unit's way, and at the same time, pump them for information.
"Jared."
Jared turned to look at Detective Patterson.
"Yeah?"
"Can you come look around and see if he took anything?" Garrett asked.
"Besides Jensen you mean?" Jared asked sarcastically.
"I'm sorry Jared. We underestimated him, but we'll find him, and we'll get Jensen back."
"Yeah, okay," Jared sighed deflating.
He walked back through the house, his eyes skimming over the basics. When he got to the bedroom he realized that both Jensen's glasses and contacts were gone. He spun around nearly knocking Garrett over as he rushed to the kitchen. Jared sagged with relief when he saw that Jensen's medicines were gone as well.
"What's missing Jared?"
"His glasses, contacts and all his medicine," Jared ticked off the list. "But that's good right? If Kylan took his medicine, it means he doesn't want to kill him," Jared asked hopefully.
Mike grimaced behind Garrett. He was pretty sure Kylan didn't give a damn about Jensen getting sick except for the fact it would get in the way of his fun.
Garrett didn't lie to people, but he didn't go out of his way to be callous either, and if he could soften the blow when he could he did.
"Anything that helps Jensen is a good thing," he said, after a pause, trying to word his answer carefully.
He heard the quiet release of breath behind him and knew that while Jared hadn't quite let reality sink in, his friends had no such illusions as to why Kylan had chosen to take the medicine. They also knew exactly why he'd chosen to answer Jared in the way he had, and he was certain they appreciated it, if he understood the quick pat and squeeze to his shoulder.
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A moan worked its way up Jensen's throat, only to be muffled by the gag wedged into his mouth, which was still confusing to Jensen's muddled brain. His last coherent memory had been walking into the bedroom, toweling his hair dry, another slung around his waist. He'd thought he heard a noise and was turning to see if Steve needed something when his arms were pinned to his side and a foul smelling rag was placed over his mouth and nose. Everything shifted out of focus, and then he couldn't remember anything until now, and now wasn't so wonderful either. Jensen wasn't sure if it was from the rag or the combination of that and all the medicine he was on mixing together, which might be why he went down so fast too.
He tried to move his arms and legs, but they came to an abrupt stop. He hadn't been brave enough to try and open his eyes yet, the fear of nausea tilting his stomach and choking him to death on his own vomit while gagged was not an option he wanted to entertain. Chris would say it was the rock star method, to which of course Steve would remind him he sung country so what would he know about it. Jensen swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought of Steve. The only way Kylan would have gotten to him was through Steve, that realization chilled Jensen to the bone.
Jensen tried to get control of the fear threatening to overwhelm him. He needed to be able to hear what was going on around him, and he couldn't do that with his heart pounding in his ears. God he'd pay money to have Alec's X-5 senses right now.
He finally managed to crack his eyes open, only to be met with an all encompassing darkness. Jensen had never really liked the dark, and he could feel his heart start to pick up. Everything felt like it was closing in around him, suffocating him.
He started taking slow deep inhales, letting them out in long even exhales, trying to slow his heartbeat again and focus his mind, so he could concentrate on how to get himself out of this mess. Who said cheer camp wouldn't come in handy, not that he'd ever admit that out loud. After a few minutes, he was able to make out the crackle and snap of a fire but it must have been on the other side of the room, since he wasn't getting toasted on one side or the other. Jensen wrinkled his nose at the smell of gutted fish, damn, and I just took a shower too.
He strained his ears and could just make out the sound of snowmobiles buzzing in the distance, too far away, even if he weren't gagged. The longer he listened, though, he realized there were no other sounds coming from the place he was being held. There were no other movements or breathing. Either Kylan wasn't inside, or he was in another room entirely. Jensen shifted to the side, trying to see how much maneuverability he had. His wrists were cuffed around a slat in the headboard and his feet were tied at the footboard to two separate slats about a foot apart.
It was when he moved his legs to see how well they were tied that he realized he still had no clothes on, the scratchy material of the sheets and blanket catching on his skin, making him shudder in revulsion. He let out a small whimper that was lost behind the pressure of the gag. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to slow his breathing back down. It had inadvertently sped up at the realization of just how vulnerable he was. He'd almost gotten the light headed lack of oxygen feeling under control when a door slammed, shocking him so badly he jumped, nearly dislocating his shoulder.
Jensen immediately froze every movement, his breath stalling in his lungs, trying to determine where Kylan was located. He heard a thump from his left, the sound of something being set down, but nothing else. He could just barely make out the shallow sounds of breathing, but it was so low it was impossible to pinpoint where it was coming from. His neck ached from holding it so still, the urge to swing it from side to side trying to find the threat almost overwhelming, but he wouldn't give Kylan the satisfaction of showing his fear.
"Oh, I'm going to enjoy breaking you," Kylan breathed.
Jensen jerked away from the voice that was right beside him. He felt the bed dip as Kylan's weight settled beside his hip.
"You know, the first thing that drew me to you wasn't even your looks. Although, let's face it," Kylan purred, running his thumb across Jensen's bottom lip. "Those cock sucking lips and huge eyes don't hurt, do they?"
Kylan threaded his fingers through the short strands of hair and pulled as Jensen tried to yank his head away, "No, it was that spark I saw in your eyes. I knew you'd be a fighter."
Hot breath fell across Jensen's face before Kylan leaned in and bit down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
Kylan chuckled at the growl coming from Jensen that the gag couldn't muffle.
The bed dipped even further as Kylan bent down next to Jensen's ear. "I saw it though," his voice betraying the pride, he felt in his warped accomplishment. "I knew you'd put up a fight. I've been looking for someone worthy of being mine for a long time. I've had lots of toys. They don't seem to last as long as they used to, always getting broken so easily," Kylan whispered, sliding his free hand along the naked length of Jensen's side, smiling when the man tried to twist away.
"But you baby, I've been watching you since you broke my jaw. It's time for you to learn just who you belong to and exactly what your place is." He punctuated his statement by licking along the shell of Jensen's ear and swirling his tongue inside.
Jensen tried to move his head away again, coming to a halt when Kylan's teeth clamped down on his ear lobe hard enough that a struggle would probably rip a good chunk of it off, which really wouldn't get him anywhere but hurt. He gritted his teeth while Kylan continued to touch and taste him for what felt like an eternity but was really only a few minutes. The mattress shifted again and Jensen felt knees settle on either side of him, the churning in his stomach increasing to an acidic burn.
Jensen's whole body stiffened as Kylan's weight settled on top of him, erection digging into the hard plane of Jensen's stomach as his tormenter rocked against him. Kylan's hands moved up along Jensen's bound arms, pressing them down into the bed, giving him added leverage to rut against the unmoving body beneath him. Jensen couldn't even think straight. His mind kept trying to separate from the rest of him. He knew he should be thankful that he was at least covered with a blanket, but the little voice in his head kept supplying the helpful reminder that next time he wouldn't be so lucky.
His breath hitched when he realized that Kylan was fumbling with the button to his pants, the unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered, echoing in his ear. He tensed, waiting for the shock of cold air that would follow the blanket being pulled away, but it never came. He heard the distinct sounds of flesh on flesh and Kylan's knees tightened around his hips, a groan escaping the man hovering above him. Jensen could smell the musky scent of spilled semen and felt the wet heat slowly seeping through the blanket covering his stomach.
Kylan's breath brushed across his cheek, moving down unitl he was hovering beside Jensen's ear again. "Next time I think we'll make sure you get to participate," he threatened, the bed shifting as he moved to stand up.
Jensen's muscles seized when he was pulled onto his side as far as he would go in the restraints. Kylan placed a pillow behind his back keeping him at the odd angle, a touch to the back of his head making him jump.
"I'm going to take the gag off so you can take your medicine. I would prefer to leave it off in case you get sick, but I'll put it back on if you feel the need to make a bunch of noise, not that anyone can hear us. Do you understand?"
Jensen nodded his head, absolutely ready to agree to no noise just to get the gag off even if he was lying through his teeth and planning on making plenty of noise when the right time presented itself. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to work the stiffness out of his jaw. Kylan pushed a pill against his lips, and he opened his mouth just wide enough to allow it inside.
"Wider," Kylan demanded.
Jensen ground his teeth together before opening his mouth a fraction of an inch wider. His jaw was grabbed in brutal grip and forced open to Kylan's satisfaction. Jensen felt fingers invade his mouth, running along the ridges at the roof of his mouth and stroking along his tongue, the taste of come registering before they slid all the way back until his gag reflex took over.
"Come on Jensen, I know you can do this. Breathe through your nose."
Jensen struggled to relax the muscles in his throat, Kylans fingers going deeper until the pill cleared the back of his tongue, and he was able to swallow it. He wanted to bite down so badly, but with Kylan holding his jaw open, he didn't get the chance. He stayed quiet through his tormentor sliding his fingers in and out, mimicking what he was promising to do with his dick later. Kylan finally relented, pulling his fingers free and rubbing the saliva into Jensen's lips and face.
Jensen grunted as the pillows was pulled from behind his back, his body thumping against the bed. His body stiffened when Kylan moved the covers and he only relaxed again when Kylan finished straightening them and stepped away.
"I hope you don't need to use the bathroom, because I don't have time to take you right now. I would suggest if you do that you hold it. I won't be pleased if you have an accident before I get back. I've got some things to get for our first play date, and I'm sure you'll love them."
Jensen bit his tongue against the need to tell Kylan to fuck himself. The sooner the bastard left, the sooner he could find a way out. He heard Kylan moving around the room, a chair scraping across the floor, a drill of some sort being used. Jensen cringed at the sound of chains being dropped on the floor. He was almost happy he was blindfolded. The sound of the door opening and shutting some time later had Jensen relaxing into the bed for several minutes just listening to the quiet around him. He waited for a little while and when Kylan didn't come back and there were no noises from outside. Then, he started trying to get the blindfold off in earnest.
It took him longer than he'd hoped and quite a bit of hair loss, but he finally managed to work it loose. He figured he should be thankful it wasn't a fucking hood. Even though the sun was starting to set, the light filtering in through the small window over the bed made his eyes water. Jensen looked around, taking in what appeared to be a fishing shack. He knew there were dozens of cabins scattered along several different lakes, since he and the guys had stayed in one last spring, but during the winter most of them were empty. This place, though, must have been further back because it wasn't something that could be rented out. There were only two rooms, the other being a small bathroom from what he could see at this angle while still shackled to the bed.
Of all the things Jensen thought he'd have a chance to tell Kylan, thank you wasn't one of them, but when he looked up and saw the thin wires wrapped around each end of the bed he figured he might just have to, in a sarcastic, in your face kind of way, preferably accompanied by a few sets of knuckles and possibly an elbow. The reality of what the wires were probably put there for and what their uses were going to be made him break out in a cold sweat, but right now, they gave him a chance to get out of the cuffs and he'd be damned if he stuck around to see what Kylan had planned for them.
When the first handcuff clicked open, he stifled his shout of joy, his inner Dean telling him to hurry the fuck up, he was moving too slow. The second one came open much quicker even though it was still an awkward angle to work from and his fingers were numb from how tight the cuffs had been. Jensen scooted forward, reaching for the footboard, so he could start working on the ropes, his arm sliding in the tacky remnants of Kylan's come. He had managed to push what had happened to the back of his head, but it all came rushing back, and he leaned over the side of the bed, throwing up what little bit remained of his lunch and bile.
Once his stomach was empty, he scrubbed his arm raw with a clean section of the blanket, trying to get even the most minute trace of Kylan off his body. He knew only hot water, tons of soap and Jared could erase the imprint of Kylan on his body but at the moment this was going to have to do. Jensen started loosening the knots at his feet, the rough rope digging into skin already chafed and bleeding. When the last rope fell away, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.
Jensen very quickly discovered that had been a bad idea. His feet were numb, and as the blood rushed back into them, the pins and needle stabs that accompanied it was enough to make his eyes tear. He caught himself on the side of the bed before landing in a heap on the floor, sliding back onto the end of the bed long enough to massage some feeling back into his feet. While he worked, he catalogued everything that was around him, trying to decide what he could use in his escape.
He blanched at the new decor Kylan had already added to the shacks interior. Jensen's flight instinct kicked into overdrive, he didn't really want to stay and fight. If he'd been at the top of his game, or hell, even at the middle point, he would have given Kylan a run for his money. However, between the plane crash, long hours, pneumonia and the medicine that seemed to drain him, he knew he was no match, so that meant his only option was escape and evade. Jensen was able to find a pair of socks, jeans and a flannel shirt that had seen better days shoved in the corner of a shelf over the toilet. The boots, although too small, he found under the sink along with a knife used for cleaning fish.
"One of these days he'll stop underestimating me, but until then I'll capitalize on the pompous son of a bitch's stupidity," Jensen mumbled to himself. It was nice to hear a voice in the silence, even if it was his own. It helped settle his nerves.
Jensen couldn't decide whether Kylan didn't believe he could get loose or if he wouldn't leave the shack. Either way, he was wrong. He made a quick bag out of the pillow case and piece of leftover rope that had been tossed to the side, then he shoved a canteen he'd found and filled with water into it as well as his medicine, glasses, a book of matches, some twine and a couple of packs of beef jerky. He cut off a few lengths of twine to strap the knife to his leg, using some rags he found as a buffer for the point to keep it from cutting into him.
He knew that with no map and no real provisions his chances of finding his way out were slim, but he was wiling to take those odds against the ones he'd have staying here and being Kylan's plaything. When he couldn't think of anything else that he could scavenge, he slowly opened the door, peered carefully around, and slipped silently into the shadows of trees around the clearing surrounding the shack.
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Chris had followed the gurney until a nurse stopped in front of him, asking that he please fill out the forms at the desk. She promised as soon as she knew the condition of the patient, she'd let him know. By the time Chris had decided to pick her up and drop her on her head, Tom placed a hand on his shoulder, steering him around to the waiting room.
Tom was really beginning to hate the de ja vu feeling. He grabbed the information from the desk, handing it to Chris because he wasn't going to be able to fill this one out like he had with Jensen's. They all hung out, but outside of the basics, Tom wasn't privy to Steve's medical history and allergies. He called Mike while Chris labored through the multitude of forms, occasionally patting his shoulder or just letting his hand settle on the back of Chris' neck when he could feel the inevitable blow up of suppressed rage, and fear flowing off the man beside him.
Chris turned in the forms along with the all important power of attorney information, an important lesson that the guys had taught them several years ago, and one Chris was profoundly grateful for now. There was no doubt in his mind he'd be in jail for ripping the hospital apart if they tried to keep Steve's condition from him. He sat back down, glancing over at Tom who sat quietly as ever, the frown pulling his mouth in a downward line and his brows bunched up in concentration the only real outward signs of distress. Chris was immensely grateful that it wasn't Mike or Chad, neither man could stay quiet for more than thirty seconds, and he would hate to have to explain why the morgue had an unregistered guest.
An hour into the wait, Mike came rushing into the waiting room, several bags dangling from his arms. He dropped everything at their feet, leaned over and kissed Tom.
" Ewwwww, gross Mike," Tom said, wiping at his face.
"What? Jamie said to give you a kiss for her."
"I'm sure she didn't mean it literally."
Mike's face scrunched up in concentration for a second, before it smoothed back out, and he shrugged his shoulders and grinned.
"Oh well, you know you liked it."
Chris couldn't help but smile at the silliness. "So what's going on at the house?"
"Not a damn thing. They're taking all the samples and shit, not like we don't know what happened already," Mike complained.
"They need it for court," Tom explained.
"I'm glad you think he's going to live long enough to make it to court," Mike huffed.
Tom ignored him and Chris' grunt of approval.
"How's Steve? Have they told you anything?" Mike asked.
"Not a word, and if I don't hear something soon, they'll be calling security."
"That's not going to do Steve any good when he wakes up. They'll come talk to you as soon as they have him taken care of," Tom reassured.
Chris sighed and slumped back in his seat. "So exactly why are you here and not at the house and what's in the bags?" He asked Mike tiredly.
"Tom called and asked if I'd bring over some things for the both of you and stop by and get his computer for him. I don't know why, he didn't tell me," Mike said before Chris could ask him. "Figured I'd make him when I got here. Oh, and I stopped at the store and got those maps you wanted too." Mike answered, directing the last part at Tom.
"Now I just need somewhere to spread them out," Tom observed, rummaging through his backpack.
"Give me a minute," Mike said and scurried off.
Five minutes later, they were being led into a private waiting room. The desk nurse promising to have any information about Steve's condition directed to them. Tom plugged in his laptop while Mike spread out the maps, one of Vancouver and an overlay of all the roads. Whether they were paved or dirt, as long as they had names or numbers they were listed. This didn't, of course, include logging roads or paths cut in by folks making a quicker way to their favorite pond or fishing site but it was the closest they could get.
"So are you going to explain this now?" Chris asked.
"Well, I figured the police checked all the motels, hotels, and other odd and end places the first time Kylan made an appearance, and I bet they've already started rechecking them now that this has happened. I figure he had to have somewhere out of the way to take Jensen. It's not like he can just lug six feet of unconscious body in the front door of some place so it has to be isolated, right?" Tom explained.
"You're thinking a cabin or a rental somewhere," Mike continued Tom's line of reasoning, bending over the map looking at the lakes.
"Yeah, I mean not many people use them this time of year. It couldn't be hard to find one away from everybody where you wouldn't hear anybody in... trouble."
Mike swallowed hard, knowing the slight pause Tom had covered before settling on the word trouble was more than likely supposed to have been screams. His blood ran cold just thinking about the things that could be happening to their friend while they were sitting here discussing how to find him.
Tom brought up the rental agencies he'd bookmarked and started plotting the locations of the properties on the maps. Mike got on the phone, using the line that they were looking locations for filming and needing to verify that there was no one in the area to sell away information for publicity. Once they knew it would work he and Chris called all the agencies using the same bull shit to get the information they needed.
Tom tracked Chris' movements as they worked their way through all the rental agencies. He knew that, while having something to occupy him was helping, Steve wasn't far from his mind, noticing the frequent glances he threw at the door and the clock. When the nurse finally opened the door calling for the family of Steve Carlson, Tom thought Chris would upend the table when he stood up so fast.
"How is he?"
"He's stable. We're moving him to a room now. The doctor will be in to talk with you in just a few minutes, and then you can see him," the nurse said.
Chris dropped into his seat, cradling his head in his hands. Steve would be okay, as long as he was alive. Steve would be okay. He was a fighter.
"Hey, me and Mike are going to get out of here so the doctor can talk to you. I'm going to leave you my keys. That way, if you need something, you have a car," Tom said, setting the keys on the table as Mike packed all the maps and papers up.
"Yeah, thanks for sticking around. Let me know what's going on too."
"No problem," Tom answered.
"I mean it, I want to know. God, I can't not be here...... but Tom, if anything happens to Jensen.."
Tom just nodded. Chris didn't have to tell him. Jensen was really the center to everybody's universe. It was odd how someone so quiet and reserved could step into a room and, before the end of the day, everything revolved around them, and not in the self centered, diva, I am a God way. Jensen just had this aura that people just gravitated to him. He was kind and unassuming, funny as hell if you could ever get him to open up, and if you were lucky enough to ever act with him, it was awe inspiring. Tom had flubbed his lines just from getting caught up in watching Jensen do a particular scene and had completely forgotten to deliver his own lines.
"I swear I'll keep you up to date," Tom promised. "You know that Jensen wouldn't expect you to be anywhere but here."
"Yeah, I know. Doesn't make me feel any less like shit though."
Tom patted him on the back, "Give me a call after you see Steve okay?"
Chris nodded and held the door open as the two men left. He'd just sat back down when the door opened and a small petite woman walked through. She introduced herself as Dr. Martin, asking for his name and his relationship to the patient, verifying that he did, in fact, hold the proper credentials to not only hear but also decide medical treatment for Mr. Carlson. Once that was covered, they both took a seat at the table and Dr. Martin got right down to business.
"I'm going to tell you what's been going on so far, and then I'm going to ask you a few questions that could help us with Mr. Carlson's treatment."
Chris nodded his head, not trusting himself to ask questions at the moment.
"Mr. Carlson entered the ER with an erratic heart beat that flat lined once during the course of our treatment. We were able to shock it back into rhythm and have since been able to maintain that rhythm for the last two hours which is a very good sign. We will be keeping him here until we can determine not only what if any damage has been done to his heart but also the damage done by the oxygen depravation I was told he suffered. I understand the police think he was tasered, correct?"
"Yeah, when he went to open the door," Chris answered.
"That doesn't seem like enough of a shock to cause this many problems," she mused. "Did Mr. Carlson have a prior heart condition?"
"No, the bastard poured water under the door, so he was standing in it when he touched the door knob," Chris growled.
"Oh my! That would certainly do it. Do you have any idea how long he was unconscious before he was found?"
Chris shook his head, not trusting his voice.
"Okay, let me ask you this. What did you see when you got there? I know it's hard, but it will help, I promise."
"Steve was on the floor, his lips were blue, and his skin was a gray color." Chris stopped and took a deep breath.
"Do you remember if he was warm, or cold to the touch?" Dr. Martin asked.
"He was still fairly warm. I remember thinking he couldn't be dead when I was searching for a pulse because he wasn't cold," Chris answered, feeling like this at least had to be good news.
"That's good. It means he probably didn't go without for too long. We won't know for sure until he regains consciousness, and we can run some test, but the ones we've run so far look promising. It's my belief and with the information you've given me, it supports it, is that the shock to Mr. Carlson's heart threw it out of rhythm to the extent that it continued to slow down over time until it finally stopped. While it's not good that it stopped at all, the fact that it was a gradual and not an instantaneous halt is what I believe saved him, that and your resuscitation efforts," She explained.
"So there may not be any lasting damage?" Chris asked, hope growing quietly.
"There's a very good chance there won't be, but again until he's awake, and we can run some more test, we won't know for sure. Now how about I take you to his room so you can see him. I'm sure my telling you he's doing well is one thing, but it's nothing compared to seeing it with your own two eyes is it?"
"No, not really," Chris agreed.
"Just remember, lots of cords and monitors. He should be waking up soon but there really is no time limit we put on these things. The body knows when it's ready and will do what it wants when it wants, so try not to worry too much."
Dr. Martin opened the door and proceeded him in. She showed him the nurses button, not unlike the one Jensen had in his room and told him to press it when Steve started to wake up. Chris thanked her and sat down next to the bed, wrapping his hand around Steve's motionless one. Dr. Martin told him she'd be back around in a few hours to check on them before slipping out the door but Chris' attention was already focused solely on Steve.
Now that he could see Steve's chest move up and down with each breath, touch him with his own hands, hear the machine beep each and every time his heart beat, Chris could feel the waves of emotions start to crest and drag him under. His whole body started to shake, until he finally moved his hand for fear he'd set a machine off. The fear that had been lodged in his chest clawed its way up his throat, releasing itself in a stifled sob. He shoved the heel of his hand in his mouth, trying to be quiet. When that didn't work, he grabbed the extra pillow sitting on the chair and shoved his face in it, letting the pressure that had been building escape in gut wrenching howl.
Chris half expected the nursing staff to run in and make him leave, but either they didn't hear him, or they understood. Once he was able to get himself together, he sat back in the chair, trying to get comfortable. When that didn't work, he kicked off his shoes, climbed up onto the bed with Steve and snuggled up beside him, careful of all the wires attached to him all over the place. He didn't sleep, he couldn't afford to. Not only were his ears listening to the reassuring beep of the heart monitor, but his head was torturing him with all the things that could be happening to Jensen.
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