Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 16/19
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Part Sixteen
Jensen lay flat. He zeroed in, with cross hairs over his target, and fired. The zing of the shot echoed, and in the distance a can pinged, rattled and fell. “Shit! That’s impressive.” gasped Harvey, standing next to him, with his fanny pack and his over sized camera.
In retrospect, Jensen's decision to sign up for a tourist hike n' hunt expedition, was a mistake. Nick, the very attractive reason for the sudden decision to sign up, was busy making out with the survival 'specialist' Mike, and Jensen's attempts at being normal were pathetic.
He fired five shots in a row, without a pause, took every target out, even at the furthest distance, and finished by field stripping his weapon. The rest of the group gaped.
“Nice,” said their excursion-leader, finally.
Jensen hoisted his pack onto his back. “I think I'll head on back.”
There were more drawn breaths. “You can't do that! It's too dangerous,” the leader insisted.
Mike stopped fondling Nick long enough to add his own lecture, on being three days out from civilization, and how Jensen would perish without survival skills. Jensen's frustration peaked, and Mike found himself face-down on the dusty trail in a painful hold, while the rest of the group shuffled and squealed in panic, and asked him to be reasonable. “Give me a waiver to sign, and I'll be reasonable,” he snarled.
The journey down the mountainside, to the small town from where they'd started took a day, and was no lonelier than being in the group. It gave him time to think, which was no help at all. He'd had way too much of that, in the six months since leaving Jared at the Road House. He had lain in bed with Jared after making love to him, and the boy had slept, skin to skin, sweaty and warm against him. Jensen had savored every moment and then it was over, too soon. Jared had showered, dressed for a prom, put make up on his face and condoms in his pocket, gave Jensen a goodbye kiss, and had gone to work. Jensen had left Monkota, and the postcards had started arriving at the Road House once more. Jensen clung on to the pain of Jared’s rejection because it made him human. For the first time since he was a child, Jensen let all his emotions in. He let himself laugh and cry, and feel alive. He wasn’t sure where he was heading. For a while, every time he reached a new destination, he had high hopes that he would find what he was looking for. He never did. He was beginning to think he never would.
Jensen found a bar and took a seat under the head of a deer that jutted from a plaque on the wall. A gnarled old man nodded in his direction and continued drinking. He took a mouthful of his own beer and leaned against the wall. In the corner of the bar, the TV flickered with a loop of the daily news. He shut his eyes and considered his options. There was a leaflet in his pack for yet another charity project. Another place, more sunburn. In the background the news hack's nasal whine described the freshly elected President Quintas's first new legislation in Monkota. That was the thing about home, Jensen thought with an unconscious smile, there wasn't much chance of sunburn. He'd like to go fishing there again one day.
When he opened his eyes, something had changed, and he jumped in shock. He stared at the object on the table and reached for his gun. A toy camel stared back, silently judging him.
“Getting sloppy, Ross, or is it Jensen?” Misha slipped onto the chair opposite him. He put both palms flat on the table, “C'mon! No weapons, dude.” He looked amused at Jensen’s obvious surprise.
Jensen kept his hand on his gun, ready to draw. “Where's JD?”
Misha was relaxed and sarcastic. “I think the appropriate words are, Hey, bro, good to see you, can I get you a beer? But I guess, where's JD? works for me.”
“What do you want?”
“Do I need a reason for looking up an old friend?”
“Generally, yes.” Jensen regarded him with suspicion, but no panic. He wasn't sure he cared what happened to himself any more.
“I'm going to take my hands off the table, to order a beer. You chill with that?”
Jensen nodded assent. If this was a take-down, then Misha was only the distraction.
“Danni couldn't make it. She says hi, and thanks for the necklace. She'll be pissed you didn't ask after her.”
“Yeah, well, you surprised me.” Jensen shrugged.
“JD enjoyed the JD, he drank it while he worried about you, asshole.”
“I needed time. I'm not tied to anyone.”
Misha's beer arrived, and he took a swig. His bright blue eyes barely left Jensen. He looked him up and down, assessing him. “Seriously dude. You can let go of your weapon. It's a social visit.”
Jensen relaxed a little. “You're not gonna cuff me and throw me on a plane to Agadir are you?”
“Oh man! You're not telling me our silly prank freaked you out?”
“Because it wouldn't have freaked you?”
“Only if I had a secret.”
“We all have secrets, Misha.”
“Fair point, but I know you're tougher than that. Maybe it was all about the boy. I can't say I care, I don't do that any more.”
“You don't?”
“Alpaca farming. Alpacas are cool. The wool is best quality, and soft. I have some samples with me if you want to see.”
Jensen blinked. “Please tell me you're undercover.”
“I retired three months after you left. A hostage retrieval went to hell. We lost six of the team. Danni and I barely made it out. Made me think you did the right thing. None of us need the money, so why take the chances? Now, I have alpacas. Everyone has to have a hobby.”
“Wow. It's unexpected. Wool?”
“Yeah. Well, there's a woman too. It's her farm. It's awesome and so is she.” Misha grinned like a loon. It was genuine joy.
Jensen dropped his fingers from his weapon and smiled. “You dog! So, what about JD? Did you keep in touch?”
“Oh, JD, right. He lost a few fingers. Pretty much lost his spirit. I think he's back in the game, but he's not the same. He's married to the job, the rest of us weren't.”
“I'm not sure about that.” Jensen, drew circles with his finger, around his beer bottle.
“You missing it?”
“Maybe.”
“And there I was thinking you left us for love.”
Jensen sucked down another mouthful of beer, before replying. “I was looking for something. Thought I'd found it. Turns out I was wrong.”
“Here.” Misha scrolled through his cell-phone, and turned the display to Jensen. “That's Danni's. She went freelance, but I heard it said, she needs another pair of hands.”
Jensen worried at the label on the beer bottle, while he surreptitiously scanned the room. It was too convenient. “Misha, how did you find me?”
“Oh, that! I wasn't looking. It's always the same isn't it? Search everywhere for something and you can't find it. Then, you stop looking and wham, there it is. Vicki was checking out the craft festival, and I overheard some Rangers talking about an asshole who shook up some sort of hiking expedition. Course, the name got my attention. There aren't many Jensen Ackles out there, and the only one I know, is supposed to be dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Misha? Who's this?” A slight lady, with dark hair, wearing an extraordinary penguin-patterned sweater, slid onto a stool next to Misha.
“Oh, hey, Vicki, um, this is Jensen, Jensen, this is my wife Vicki.”
Jensen thought he might drop his beer in surprise. “We were just catching up,” he started to explain.
Misha interrupted, “… with local events. Jensen has some great ideas. He's been here for a few days, haven't you?”
He didn't need Misha's kick under the table, to get the idea. “Yes, er. The hiking trips are interesting,” he said lamely. “Your husband said you were here for the craft fair,” he threw the ball firmly back into Misha's court.
Vicky and Misha described yarns and dyes at length, and in the background, the news returned to Monkota. Bored, Jensen idly listened to the television “the president announced a slave amnesty, for former slaves of Padalecki regime…property and possessions returned where they can be traced…rebuilding structure and education…”
“What do you think?” Vicki was talking to him, holding up two strands of wool.
Jensen hadn't heard a word they were saying, he startled and looked at them, “The purple,” he said, taking a stab in the dark.
“Hmm. I'm still not sure.” Vicki replaced them in her bag. She glanced at Jensen, and there was something in her look that made him uncomfortable.
Jensen needed to piss; beer and boredom will do that to a man. He excused himself and picked his way warily through the bar, looking for signs of danger. It was only on the way out of the men's room that he was approached. Vicki stood by the door, unarmed, but with an unfriendly frown. “We need to talk.”
Jensen ad-libbed with a boyish grin, “Look lady, you're very pretty but I'm not hitting on you.”
“Don't bullshit me! I know your type. You're the same as that redhead Misha used to work with.” Vicki gripped his arm. “Do you think I'm stupid? I know what Misha was, and it's finished. He's got too much to live for.” She stroked her belly, and he noticed her slight bulge for the first time. “He doesn't do it any more. Do you understand me? I swear, if you come near him again, you won't make it to your next little mission, whatever it might be. We're happy. He's building a life. Leave us alone.” She marched back to Misha, and her demeanor softened as she kissed his cheek. They sat side by side, with not a gap between them and Misha rested his hand on her knee. They looked content.
Jensen made a decision. He had calls to make, somewhere to go.
Jared chased Misti around the breakfast table. He caught her in long arms and she giggled uncontrollably, gripping his toast in her hand and grabbing a bite to tease him. “Toast thief!” he declared, just before Chad grabbed it from both of them and stuffed it in his mouth whole. They both glared at him.
“Wab?” Chad asked, with hamster-cheeks.
Jared sneaked a look at Misti. She had been in the house for five days, and he knew she was finding it tough. So was he. He hadn't seen Gem since she left four months ago, and while Mouse sometimes worked the bar as an independent, it was lonely without her. There were new residents, while Chad, Bunny and Mia remained. He wondered what their real ages were. Jared suspected that Madame Ferris's ledger adjusted to roughly reflect the age at which an employee was no longer at a prime for her business. It would have made him angry once, but he wasn't that boy any more.
“Blue. Can I see you in my office?” Madame waited by the door of the kitchen for him.
Jared tried to recall the details of every customer in the past week. Requests to attend Madame's office were few, and usually associated with a transgression. He bowed his head and followed her.
“Sit down,”
“Yes, ma'am.”
She slid his ledger from a drawer. “I'll be blunt. Your payments have accrued rapidly. I'll be letting you go in three months.”
Jared's stomach churned. He had nowhere to live, and no way to earn the money he needed to find somewhere. He couldn't depend on Mouse, she was only just coping with living and working in a single room apartment. “Can I stay on, until I have savings?”
“You're already older than the rest of my children, and you have grown so large. In any other establishment there wouldn't be a problem, but here it's an issue.” She gave a sympathetic smile, “You'll have a new set of papers. Do you prefer any particular forename?”
It should have been an ecstatic feeling, but his world was crashing in. Jared took a moment to compose himself. “I want to be me. I want to be Jared.”
“Isn't that dangerous?”
“It's a common enough name in this region. I need to be me.”
“If you're sure.”
“Yeah, I am.”
Madame Ferris pushed a leaflet over the desk at Jared. “They were handing these out at the store. It's part of the civic regeneration program. I thought it was ideal for you. If you want to apply, I will arrange the details.”
He turned the flyer in his hand, and skimmed the text. He let go of the breath he'd been holding, “It’s a college sponsorship program. I would have to pass an exam and there are community projects to work on.” He looked at Madame with wide eyes, he could barely believe the text, and needed her confirmation “It’s a free ride through college!”
“There’s a lot of hours of work to put in, and heavy building tasks listed there, but I have no doubt you would cope.” Madame nodded her support.
He bit his lip, as his excitement turned to despair, there had to be hundreds of applicants for a place, and he was a whore. “They won't want me.” He was sure.
“Blue, the admissions officer at the college is Bunny's customer. I don't see that they can turn you down.” She winked at him. “Do your best, and then leave it to me.” Madame patted his hand in a reassuring gesture.
***
College started a week after Jared's ledger was cleared. Madame Ferris let him stay for the week, and found notebooks, pens and an old laptop for him, in the depths of her office. She handed him his papers and his identity card without ceremony, and wished him luck.
Jared Singer carried a pack and a suitcase with him. He had gifts from everyone at the house and a food parcel for his first week. The college halls bustled with activity and noise. There were welcome banners and balloons, and social clubs vying to sign up new members. Mouse ran by his side, to keep up with his long strides. “Wait up!” she laughed.
“I don't want to miss orientation,” Jared could hardly believe he’d made it. He was alive and free, and embarking on an engineering degree. He could have a decent future, and he was unwilling to miss a moment of it.
“You're early, Blu ...Jared.”
“I want to find my dorm.” Jared grinned excitedly.
“You're over excited,” Mouse giggled, caught up in her friend’s joy.
“Yeah, I am.” Jared bounced like a puppy. He couldn't believe he was getting this chance. For a fleeting moment he wished he had a way to share it with Jensen, a number, or a way to send a postcard.
“Here! This is yours.” Mouse called.
The door opened, to a basic room with three beds, storage and desks. A young man sat by the window, strumming a guitar. He turned to grin at them. “Roomie! I'm Steve. Our other inmate, Christian, will be late. He requested the bed farthest from the door, but since he's not here, it's your choice.”
Jared dumped his belongings on the nearest bed. “Jared. I'm on the regeneration program, so I best be by the door. They warned we'd have to work some late nights.”
“That's a drag.”
“I'm used to them. It's the early mornings which will be a killer.”
“You fit in already, kid. What are you studying?”
“Engineering mostly, but the course has other elements. I'll be assigned to help with local building projects and social schemes.”
“It sounds practical.”
Jared couldn't hide his enthusiasm, “Yeah, it is, and the lecturers at this college are some of the best.”
Steve continued strumming as he spoke, “I heard the scheme is a free ride.”
Jared's mood sank. He'd been warned that some students resented or shunned the regeneration students because of the aid they were given. His education, room and books were paid for by the state, and even his meals were provided under a coupon system. He had a little cash saved from customer tips, for clothes and everyday items, but he was easily identified as a charity-case. His smile faded, and he set about unpacking his meager belongings.
“Sounds to me like it's not free at all. You'll be working harder than any of us. If you need help, ask us first. We're your dorm buddies.”
The relief that Steve accepted him was huge. His anxiety started to fade. “Thanks,” Jared smiled and his dimples showed. They went on a whirlwind tour of the campus and Jared shared coffee and a cookie with Mouse in the busy dining hall, before she hugged him goodbye, and he was alone again.
Days were filled with classes and projects. It seemed like an age had passed since Jared had solved math problems with Jensen, and it was difficult to get back into a study routine. Steve and Christian teased him about the time he spent with his nose in a book, but they respected his need to be quiet. Most nights they slung their guitar cases over their backs and headed to a local bar where they were paid in beer and a few dollars, to perform the songs they wrote. The first time they saw the small portions Jared got with his food coupons, they were horrified. After that, snacks of chips, chocolate and cookies appeared regularly on his desk. Jared accepted them without a word, and ran small errands like picking up their books from the library.
In the third week of the semester, Jared’s class was given their first regeneration projects, and they crowded around the notice board to see what assignments they were set. Jared scanned the lists looking for Jared Singer and found his name against the renewal of the railway station. He high-fived Jake and Rachel who were assigned to the same team.
“Oh, my god!” Rachel almost swooned, “Did you see who our project leader is?”
Jared and Jake hadn't looked, they shook their heads.
“We got Ackles. Lexie and Cara saw him in the faculty meeting and they reckon he is super-hot, like molten-metal,” she licked her finger and made a sizzling sound.
Jake laughed, “You are so shallow.”
Jared stared at the notice. The name was a painful reminder of the one person he was trying to forget.
“Are you okay?” Jake asked.
“Yeah, just wondering what he'll be like to work with.”
“Heaven,” Rachel commented, doing a little dance through the corridor to their next class.
The bus dropped them close to the railway station. They stood in a cluster, in fine dreary rain, to appreciate the scale of the project. Fire-blackened brickwork gaped with ragged holes, guttering dripped, windows were shattered or gone, and the roof was missing a section of tiles.
“Shit!” remarked Jake, expressing the thoughts of them all. They looked at each other and put their government-issue hard-hats on.
Somebody emerged from the building and clapped their hands together for attention. He sauntered towards them with a wide, white smile. His eyes shone green and raindrops landed on the freckled skin of his face. “Well, come in. The roof is better than it looks. It will keep us dry if we stand in the right place.”
Rachel nudged Jared, “Totally hot. Told you,” she whispered.
“Oh, crap!” Jared froze, at the exact moment Jensen nodded a greeting to him.
Jensen didn't pause but moved on to do the same to Rachel, who tugged Jared's arm, “What's wrong?” she hissed.
“I forgot something. I should go.”
“What are you on about? We didn't have to bring anything, and there won't be another bus for an hour.”
“I'm in the wrong group. I'll …,”
“Is there something you want to share with the class, Mr. er…,” Jensen looked at Jared, as if for the first time, but there was a softness to his eyes, and his lips turned up slightly.
“Mr. Singer. Jared Singer,” Jared clarified. If he stared a little too long, he hoped nobody noticed.
“Jared, do you want to build great things one day?” Jensen spoke in a low drawl, and it sent a shiver through Jared that thrilled every nerve.
So many tangled feelings and memories were associated with that voice, the face, the man, yet all he could answer was a mumbled, “Yeah.”
“Then stay.”
Jensen waved the group in, and he was so collected, so very distant, that even Jared had to question if this was the person he knew. Maybe it wasn't. Jensen had never been real, except to Jared. It puzzled him why the man should keep the name of a dead slave. It hurt too, not being acknowledged by him, but Jared needed sponsorship, and there was only one way to get it. He couldn't afford to skip out on the assignment and lose his funding. For now he had to stay and play dumb. “Right,” he reluctantly agreed.
“Have a look around, team. You're going to decide what we will do with this place. My name is Jensen Ackles.” He looked directly at Jared when he spoke the name. “We'll be getting tired and dirty together, so don't call me Mr. Ackles, I'm just Jensen. I'm not an architect or an engineer. We will consult those as we progress. My experience is in getting projects moving and finished. I'm an enabler, a coordinator, and an extra pair of hands, and I'll be working on this full time, while you drop in to help me. Any questions?”
Yes, Jared had questions. There was a reel of them scrolling through his head, but he couldn't ask any of them here and now.
Rachel raised her hand, “Are you a lecturer, or not?”
“I'm more like a co-worker, but I do report back to your faculty, for funding purposes, so slacking will be noticed.”
The girls grinned at the response and Jake leaned in to whisper to Jared, “Uh-oh, he's just declared open-season on himself.”
One of the other students raised their hand, “Why are we fixing the station when the track hasn't been used for ages?”
“Ah. Good question. This section of track will be overhauled in the next few months, while we are working on the station.” He seemed relieved to answer a technical question.
Jared kept a distance from Jensen throughout the session, and it seemed as if Jensen was doing the same. It didn't stop Jared's hackles from rising, when one of the girls invaded Jensen's personal space, or asked an inane question for his attention. He knew it was unreasonable, he had no claim on him, and hadn't wanted one. He was over him, he was sure of it. It didn't stop him from wanting to push them away, and kiss him. Yeah, he had no idea how he was going to get through this; perhaps somebody in another group would swap.
When they were about through, and everyone was putting away their notebooks, Jensen approached Jared, “Can I speak to you a minute, Jared?” Everybody stared and Jared blushed. He couldn't refuse without having to explain.
Jensen took him out to the platform, overlooking a disused track with weed-filled cracks. “I'm sorry. This wasn't deliberate. I was supposed to be taking the community hall, but one of the other project leaders dropped out. They shuffled us around. You can swap out from the group, but this is the best project for you. I can be professional.”
Jared huffed, “Did you know I was here?”
“I checked on you from time to time.”
“That's kind of creepy.”
“Some people believe that if you save a life, you become responsible for that person forever.”
“It's still creepy, especially when you were the one who put me in danger in the first place. You dumped me in a brothel.” His anger flared briefly.
“You chose to stay there.” Jensen answered, in a frustrated growl. “And I wasn't spying in a creepy way.”
Jared sighed. He'd come to the conclusion, after the last time they'd been together, that Jensen didn't understand normal social boundaries. “Are you here to stay?”
“I've got an apartment, and it's starting to feel like home. Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” Jared answered a little too quickly.
“Good. Will you stay with this assignment?”
Jared looked at Jensen through his curtain of damp, messy, hair. He rolled his eyes and scowled. “Yeah. It's a challenge.”
“”Jared! Bus!” Jake yelled.
“I gotta go,” Jared turned to run for the bus.
“Maybe I could get you a coffee some time?”
“Maybe.”
He made it to the bus, just in time and plopped into the seat next to Rachel, who looked him up and down, “What was that about?” she asked, teasingly,
“He wanted to make sure I wasn't freaked out by the size of the project.”
“As long as he wasn't freaking you out over the size of something else,” Jake interrupted, wiggling his eyebrows, and they dissolved into giggles. The conversation went downhill from there, but it was usual college-kid banter.
It was after seven when Jared returned to his dorm. He was grateful to be away from the rest of his classmates. It was a strain discussing their project, and especially their group leader, and pretending to know nothing about him. Jensen didn't stay for Jared, but he had returned to Monkota. He had watched Jared, but he hadn't contacted him. However irrational it seemed, it hurt.
Jared stared at his books without reading. He reminded himself that he had pulled himself out of the situation he was in, and into an education, without Jensen's money or his help. He wrote the application, attended the interview, and passed an exam, and Madame hadn't needed to speak to anybody on his behalf.
Jared buried his head in his arms. Whatever blame he was assigning, it had been the right decision to send Jensen away, a year ago. Jared couldn't trust him, and he needed to reclaim his own pride. If Jared could relive Jensen's request to take him away, he knew his answer would be the same, yet when they were together, Jensen was like gravity. He pulled him in from every direction, and Jared felt the force in his body, heart and soul.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Rachel bustled in and sat on his bed without waiting for answer. She patted the space next to her, and he moved to sit with her. “Are you okay?”
Jared sat up straight and rubbed wet eyes. “Of course. Why wouldn't I be?”
“Because you freaked when you met Ackles. Because you spent the entire session avoiding him, and he did the same with you. Because you have virtually the same mark on your faces.” She brushed his hair aside, to touch Jared’s cheek gently. “It's less obvious on you, but it's there. Everyone in our group has reasons why they're in this program, and I am sure you aren't the only ex-slave, or ex-POW. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“It's not like that,” Jared protested.
“You have history, though? Does he scare you? You could still swap out.” Rachel suggested quietly.
Jared didn’t think before defending Jensen. “No. No. Of course not. It’s me. He just…he's kind of a dick. I didn’t know he was here.”
Rachel waited for Jared to say more, or explain, but instead they sat in silence. Jared picked at his thumbnail. She finally broke the silence with a pat on his knee, and a tug of his hand. “C'mon. We're going to see Steve and Chris perform. Drink is on me, as long as it's a soda. No arguments.”
“Don't tell anyone about us, Jensen and me.”
“Is there a Jensen and you? You haven't told me anything,” she raised her eyebrows and laughed, “Of course not.”
Jared let himself be pulled along. He would show Jensen that he never needed him. He enjoyed the gig in a quiet corner of the bar, and when a student called Tom, as tall as him, with sparkling blue eyes and a dirty laugh asked to buy him a drink, he accepted.
Part seventeen
Part Sixteen
Jensen lay flat. He zeroed in, with cross hairs over his target, and fired. The zing of the shot echoed, and in the distance a can pinged, rattled and fell. “Shit! That’s impressive.” gasped Harvey, standing next to him, with his fanny pack and his over sized camera.
In retrospect, Jensen's decision to sign up for a tourist hike n' hunt expedition, was a mistake. Nick, the very attractive reason for the sudden decision to sign up, was busy making out with the survival 'specialist' Mike, and Jensen's attempts at being normal were pathetic.
He fired five shots in a row, without a pause, took every target out, even at the furthest distance, and finished by field stripping his weapon. The rest of the group gaped.
“Nice,” said their excursion-leader, finally.
Jensen hoisted his pack onto his back. “I think I'll head on back.”
There were more drawn breaths. “You can't do that! It's too dangerous,” the leader insisted.
Mike stopped fondling Nick long enough to add his own lecture, on being three days out from civilization, and how Jensen would perish without survival skills. Jensen's frustration peaked, and Mike found himself face-down on the dusty trail in a painful hold, while the rest of the group shuffled and squealed in panic, and asked him to be reasonable. “Give me a waiver to sign, and I'll be reasonable,” he snarled.
The journey down the mountainside, to the small town from where they'd started took a day, and was no lonelier than being in the group. It gave him time to think, which was no help at all. He'd had way too much of that, in the six months since leaving Jared at the Road House. He had lain in bed with Jared after making love to him, and the boy had slept, skin to skin, sweaty and warm against him. Jensen had savored every moment and then it was over, too soon. Jared had showered, dressed for a prom, put make up on his face and condoms in his pocket, gave Jensen a goodbye kiss, and had gone to work. Jensen had left Monkota, and the postcards had started arriving at the Road House once more. Jensen clung on to the pain of Jared’s rejection because it made him human. For the first time since he was a child, Jensen let all his emotions in. He let himself laugh and cry, and feel alive. He wasn’t sure where he was heading. For a while, every time he reached a new destination, he had high hopes that he would find what he was looking for. He never did. He was beginning to think he never would.
Jensen found a bar and took a seat under the head of a deer that jutted from a plaque on the wall. A gnarled old man nodded in his direction and continued drinking. He took a mouthful of his own beer and leaned against the wall. In the corner of the bar, the TV flickered with a loop of the daily news. He shut his eyes and considered his options. There was a leaflet in his pack for yet another charity project. Another place, more sunburn. In the background the news hack's nasal whine described the freshly elected President Quintas's first new legislation in Monkota. That was the thing about home, Jensen thought with an unconscious smile, there wasn't much chance of sunburn. He'd like to go fishing there again one day.
When he opened his eyes, something had changed, and he jumped in shock. He stared at the object on the table and reached for his gun. A toy camel stared back, silently judging him.
“Getting sloppy, Ross, or is it Jensen?” Misha slipped onto the chair opposite him. He put both palms flat on the table, “C'mon! No weapons, dude.” He looked amused at Jensen’s obvious surprise.
Jensen kept his hand on his gun, ready to draw. “Where's JD?”
Misha was relaxed and sarcastic. “I think the appropriate words are, Hey, bro, good to see you, can I get you a beer? But I guess, where's JD? works for me.”
“What do you want?”
“Do I need a reason for looking up an old friend?”
“Generally, yes.” Jensen regarded him with suspicion, but no panic. He wasn't sure he cared what happened to himself any more.
“I'm going to take my hands off the table, to order a beer. You chill with that?”
Jensen nodded assent. If this was a take-down, then Misha was only the distraction.
“Danni couldn't make it. She says hi, and thanks for the necklace. She'll be pissed you didn't ask after her.”
“Yeah, well, you surprised me.” Jensen shrugged.
“JD enjoyed the JD, he drank it while he worried about you, asshole.”
“I needed time. I'm not tied to anyone.”
Misha's beer arrived, and he took a swig. His bright blue eyes barely left Jensen. He looked him up and down, assessing him. “Seriously dude. You can let go of your weapon. It's a social visit.”
Jensen relaxed a little. “You're not gonna cuff me and throw me on a plane to Agadir are you?”
“Oh man! You're not telling me our silly prank freaked you out?”
“Because it wouldn't have freaked you?”
“Only if I had a secret.”
“We all have secrets, Misha.”
“Fair point, but I know you're tougher than that. Maybe it was all about the boy. I can't say I care, I don't do that any more.”
“You don't?”
“Alpaca farming. Alpacas are cool. The wool is best quality, and soft. I have some samples with me if you want to see.”
Jensen blinked. “Please tell me you're undercover.”
“I retired three months after you left. A hostage retrieval went to hell. We lost six of the team. Danni and I barely made it out. Made me think you did the right thing. None of us need the money, so why take the chances? Now, I have alpacas. Everyone has to have a hobby.”
“Wow. It's unexpected. Wool?”
“Yeah. Well, there's a woman too. It's her farm. It's awesome and so is she.” Misha grinned like a loon. It was genuine joy.
Jensen dropped his fingers from his weapon and smiled. “You dog! So, what about JD? Did you keep in touch?”
“Oh, JD, right. He lost a few fingers. Pretty much lost his spirit. I think he's back in the game, but he's not the same. He's married to the job, the rest of us weren't.”
“I'm not sure about that.” Jensen, drew circles with his finger, around his beer bottle.
“You missing it?”
“Maybe.”
“And there I was thinking you left us for love.”
Jensen sucked down another mouthful of beer, before replying. “I was looking for something. Thought I'd found it. Turns out I was wrong.”
“Here.” Misha scrolled through his cell-phone, and turned the display to Jensen. “That's Danni's. She went freelance, but I heard it said, she needs another pair of hands.”
Jensen worried at the label on the beer bottle, while he surreptitiously scanned the room. It was too convenient. “Misha, how did you find me?”
“Oh, that! I wasn't looking. It's always the same isn't it? Search everywhere for something and you can't find it. Then, you stop looking and wham, there it is. Vicki was checking out the craft festival, and I overheard some Rangers talking about an asshole who shook up some sort of hiking expedition. Course, the name got my attention. There aren't many Jensen Ackles out there, and the only one I know, is supposed to be dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Misha? Who's this?” A slight lady, with dark hair, wearing an extraordinary penguin-patterned sweater, slid onto a stool next to Misha.
“Oh, hey, Vicki, um, this is Jensen, Jensen, this is my wife Vicki.”
Jensen thought he might drop his beer in surprise. “We were just catching up,” he started to explain.
Misha interrupted, “… with local events. Jensen has some great ideas. He's been here for a few days, haven't you?”
He didn't need Misha's kick under the table, to get the idea. “Yes, er. The hiking trips are interesting,” he said lamely. “Your husband said you were here for the craft fair,” he threw the ball firmly back into Misha's court.
Vicky and Misha described yarns and dyes at length, and in the background, the news returned to Monkota. Bored, Jensen idly listened to the television “the president announced a slave amnesty, for former slaves of Padalecki regime…property and possessions returned where they can be traced…rebuilding structure and education…”
“What do you think?” Vicki was talking to him, holding up two strands of wool.
Jensen hadn't heard a word they were saying, he startled and looked at them, “The purple,” he said, taking a stab in the dark.
“Hmm. I'm still not sure.” Vicki replaced them in her bag. She glanced at Jensen, and there was something in her look that made him uncomfortable.
Jensen needed to piss; beer and boredom will do that to a man. He excused himself and picked his way warily through the bar, looking for signs of danger. It was only on the way out of the men's room that he was approached. Vicki stood by the door, unarmed, but with an unfriendly frown. “We need to talk.”
Jensen ad-libbed with a boyish grin, “Look lady, you're very pretty but I'm not hitting on you.”
“Don't bullshit me! I know your type. You're the same as that redhead Misha used to work with.” Vicki gripped his arm. “Do you think I'm stupid? I know what Misha was, and it's finished. He's got too much to live for.” She stroked her belly, and he noticed her slight bulge for the first time. “He doesn't do it any more. Do you understand me? I swear, if you come near him again, you won't make it to your next little mission, whatever it might be. We're happy. He's building a life. Leave us alone.” She marched back to Misha, and her demeanor softened as she kissed his cheek. They sat side by side, with not a gap between them and Misha rested his hand on her knee. They looked content.
Jensen made a decision. He had calls to make, somewhere to go.
Jared chased Misti around the breakfast table. He caught her in long arms and she giggled uncontrollably, gripping his toast in her hand and grabbing a bite to tease him. “Toast thief!” he declared, just before Chad grabbed it from both of them and stuffed it in his mouth whole. They both glared at him.
“Wab?” Chad asked, with hamster-cheeks.
Jared sneaked a look at Misti. She had been in the house for five days, and he knew she was finding it tough. So was he. He hadn't seen Gem since she left four months ago, and while Mouse sometimes worked the bar as an independent, it was lonely without her. There were new residents, while Chad, Bunny and Mia remained. He wondered what their real ages were. Jared suspected that Madame Ferris's ledger adjusted to roughly reflect the age at which an employee was no longer at a prime for her business. It would have made him angry once, but he wasn't that boy any more.
“Blue. Can I see you in my office?” Madame waited by the door of the kitchen for him.
Jared tried to recall the details of every customer in the past week. Requests to attend Madame's office were few, and usually associated with a transgression. He bowed his head and followed her.
“Sit down,”
“Yes, ma'am.”
She slid his ledger from a drawer. “I'll be blunt. Your payments have accrued rapidly. I'll be letting you go in three months.”
Jared's stomach churned. He had nowhere to live, and no way to earn the money he needed to find somewhere. He couldn't depend on Mouse, she was only just coping with living and working in a single room apartment. “Can I stay on, until I have savings?”
“You're already older than the rest of my children, and you have grown so large. In any other establishment there wouldn't be a problem, but here it's an issue.” She gave a sympathetic smile, “You'll have a new set of papers. Do you prefer any particular forename?”
It should have been an ecstatic feeling, but his world was crashing in. Jared took a moment to compose himself. “I want to be me. I want to be Jared.”
“Isn't that dangerous?”
“It's a common enough name in this region. I need to be me.”
“If you're sure.”
“Yeah, I am.”
Madame Ferris pushed a leaflet over the desk at Jared. “They were handing these out at the store. It's part of the civic regeneration program. I thought it was ideal for you. If you want to apply, I will arrange the details.”
He turned the flyer in his hand, and skimmed the text. He let go of the breath he'd been holding, “It’s a college sponsorship program. I would have to pass an exam and there are community projects to work on.” He looked at Madame with wide eyes, he could barely believe the text, and needed her confirmation “It’s a free ride through college!”
“There’s a lot of hours of work to put in, and heavy building tasks listed there, but I have no doubt you would cope.” Madame nodded her support.
He bit his lip, as his excitement turned to despair, there had to be hundreds of applicants for a place, and he was a whore. “They won't want me.” He was sure.
“Blue, the admissions officer at the college is Bunny's customer. I don't see that they can turn you down.” She winked at him. “Do your best, and then leave it to me.” Madame patted his hand in a reassuring gesture.
***
College started a week after Jared's ledger was cleared. Madame Ferris let him stay for the week, and found notebooks, pens and an old laptop for him, in the depths of her office. She handed him his papers and his identity card without ceremony, and wished him luck.
Jared Singer carried a pack and a suitcase with him. He had gifts from everyone at the house and a food parcel for his first week. The college halls bustled with activity and noise. There were welcome banners and balloons, and social clubs vying to sign up new members. Mouse ran by his side, to keep up with his long strides. “Wait up!” she laughed.
“I don't want to miss orientation,” Jared could hardly believe he’d made it. He was alive and free, and embarking on an engineering degree. He could have a decent future, and he was unwilling to miss a moment of it.
“You're early, Blu ...Jared.”
“I want to find my dorm.” Jared grinned excitedly.
“You're over excited,” Mouse giggled, caught up in her friend’s joy.
“Yeah, I am.” Jared bounced like a puppy. He couldn't believe he was getting this chance. For a fleeting moment he wished he had a way to share it with Jensen, a number, or a way to send a postcard.
“Here! This is yours.” Mouse called.
The door opened, to a basic room with three beds, storage and desks. A young man sat by the window, strumming a guitar. He turned to grin at them. “Roomie! I'm Steve. Our other inmate, Christian, will be late. He requested the bed farthest from the door, but since he's not here, it's your choice.”
Jared dumped his belongings on the nearest bed. “Jared. I'm on the regeneration program, so I best be by the door. They warned we'd have to work some late nights.”
“That's a drag.”
“I'm used to them. It's the early mornings which will be a killer.”
“You fit in already, kid. What are you studying?”
“Engineering mostly, but the course has other elements. I'll be assigned to help with local building projects and social schemes.”
“It sounds practical.”
Jared couldn't hide his enthusiasm, “Yeah, it is, and the lecturers at this college are some of the best.”
Steve continued strumming as he spoke, “I heard the scheme is a free ride.”
Jared's mood sank. He'd been warned that some students resented or shunned the regeneration students because of the aid they were given. His education, room and books were paid for by the state, and even his meals were provided under a coupon system. He had a little cash saved from customer tips, for clothes and everyday items, but he was easily identified as a charity-case. His smile faded, and he set about unpacking his meager belongings.
“Sounds to me like it's not free at all. You'll be working harder than any of us. If you need help, ask us first. We're your dorm buddies.”
The relief that Steve accepted him was huge. His anxiety started to fade. “Thanks,” Jared smiled and his dimples showed. They went on a whirlwind tour of the campus and Jared shared coffee and a cookie with Mouse in the busy dining hall, before she hugged him goodbye, and he was alone again.
Days were filled with classes and projects. It seemed like an age had passed since Jared had solved math problems with Jensen, and it was difficult to get back into a study routine. Steve and Christian teased him about the time he spent with his nose in a book, but they respected his need to be quiet. Most nights they slung their guitar cases over their backs and headed to a local bar where they were paid in beer and a few dollars, to perform the songs they wrote. The first time they saw the small portions Jared got with his food coupons, they were horrified. After that, snacks of chips, chocolate and cookies appeared regularly on his desk. Jared accepted them without a word, and ran small errands like picking up their books from the library.
In the third week of the semester, Jared’s class was given their first regeneration projects, and they crowded around the notice board to see what assignments they were set. Jared scanned the lists looking for Jared Singer and found his name against the renewal of the railway station. He high-fived Jake and Rachel who were assigned to the same team.
“Oh, my god!” Rachel almost swooned, “Did you see who our project leader is?”
Jared and Jake hadn't looked, they shook their heads.
“We got Ackles. Lexie and Cara saw him in the faculty meeting and they reckon he is super-hot, like molten-metal,” she licked her finger and made a sizzling sound.
Jake laughed, “You are so shallow.”
Jared stared at the notice. The name was a painful reminder of the one person he was trying to forget.
“Are you okay?” Jake asked.
“Yeah, just wondering what he'll be like to work with.”
“Heaven,” Rachel commented, doing a little dance through the corridor to their next class.
The bus dropped them close to the railway station. They stood in a cluster, in fine dreary rain, to appreciate the scale of the project. Fire-blackened brickwork gaped with ragged holes, guttering dripped, windows were shattered or gone, and the roof was missing a section of tiles.
“Shit!” remarked Jake, expressing the thoughts of them all. They looked at each other and put their government-issue hard-hats on.
Somebody emerged from the building and clapped their hands together for attention. He sauntered towards them with a wide, white smile. His eyes shone green and raindrops landed on the freckled skin of his face. “Well, come in. The roof is better than it looks. It will keep us dry if we stand in the right place.”
Rachel nudged Jared, “Totally hot. Told you,” she whispered.
“Oh, crap!” Jared froze, at the exact moment Jensen nodded a greeting to him.
Jensen didn't pause but moved on to do the same to Rachel, who tugged Jared's arm, “What's wrong?” she hissed.
“I forgot something. I should go.”
“What are you on about? We didn't have to bring anything, and there won't be another bus for an hour.”
“I'm in the wrong group. I'll …,”
“Is there something you want to share with the class, Mr. er…,” Jensen looked at Jared, as if for the first time, but there was a softness to his eyes, and his lips turned up slightly.
“Mr. Singer. Jared Singer,” Jared clarified. If he stared a little too long, he hoped nobody noticed.
“Jared, do you want to build great things one day?” Jensen spoke in a low drawl, and it sent a shiver through Jared that thrilled every nerve.
So many tangled feelings and memories were associated with that voice, the face, the man, yet all he could answer was a mumbled, “Yeah.”
“Then stay.”
Jensen waved the group in, and he was so collected, so very distant, that even Jared had to question if this was the person he knew. Maybe it wasn't. Jensen had never been real, except to Jared. It puzzled him why the man should keep the name of a dead slave. It hurt too, not being acknowledged by him, but Jared needed sponsorship, and there was only one way to get it. He couldn't afford to skip out on the assignment and lose his funding. For now he had to stay and play dumb. “Right,” he reluctantly agreed.
“Have a look around, team. You're going to decide what we will do with this place. My name is Jensen Ackles.” He looked directly at Jared when he spoke the name. “We'll be getting tired and dirty together, so don't call me Mr. Ackles, I'm just Jensen. I'm not an architect or an engineer. We will consult those as we progress. My experience is in getting projects moving and finished. I'm an enabler, a coordinator, and an extra pair of hands, and I'll be working on this full time, while you drop in to help me. Any questions?”
Yes, Jared had questions. There was a reel of them scrolling through his head, but he couldn't ask any of them here and now.
Rachel raised her hand, “Are you a lecturer, or not?”
“I'm more like a co-worker, but I do report back to your faculty, for funding purposes, so slacking will be noticed.”
The girls grinned at the response and Jake leaned in to whisper to Jared, “Uh-oh, he's just declared open-season on himself.”
One of the other students raised their hand, “Why are we fixing the station when the track hasn't been used for ages?”
“Ah. Good question. This section of track will be overhauled in the next few months, while we are working on the station.” He seemed relieved to answer a technical question.
Jared kept a distance from Jensen throughout the session, and it seemed as if Jensen was doing the same. It didn't stop Jared's hackles from rising, when one of the girls invaded Jensen's personal space, or asked an inane question for his attention. He knew it was unreasonable, he had no claim on him, and hadn't wanted one. He was over him, he was sure of it. It didn't stop him from wanting to push them away, and kiss him. Yeah, he had no idea how he was going to get through this; perhaps somebody in another group would swap.
When they were about through, and everyone was putting away their notebooks, Jensen approached Jared, “Can I speak to you a minute, Jared?” Everybody stared and Jared blushed. He couldn't refuse without having to explain.
Jensen took him out to the platform, overlooking a disused track with weed-filled cracks. “I'm sorry. This wasn't deliberate. I was supposed to be taking the community hall, but one of the other project leaders dropped out. They shuffled us around. You can swap out from the group, but this is the best project for you. I can be professional.”
Jared huffed, “Did you know I was here?”
“I checked on you from time to time.”
“That's kind of creepy.”
“Some people believe that if you save a life, you become responsible for that person forever.”
“It's still creepy, especially when you were the one who put me in danger in the first place. You dumped me in a brothel.” His anger flared briefly.
“You chose to stay there.” Jensen answered, in a frustrated growl. “And I wasn't spying in a creepy way.”
Jared sighed. He'd come to the conclusion, after the last time they'd been together, that Jensen didn't understand normal social boundaries. “Are you here to stay?”
“I've got an apartment, and it's starting to feel like home. Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” Jared answered a little too quickly.
“Good. Will you stay with this assignment?”
Jared looked at Jensen through his curtain of damp, messy, hair. He rolled his eyes and scowled. “Yeah. It's a challenge.”
“”Jared! Bus!” Jake yelled.
“I gotta go,” Jared turned to run for the bus.
“Maybe I could get you a coffee some time?”
“Maybe.”
He made it to the bus, just in time and plopped into the seat next to Rachel, who looked him up and down, “What was that about?” she asked, teasingly,
“He wanted to make sure I wasn't freaked out by the size of the project.”
“As long as he wasn't freaking you out over the size of something else,” Jake interrupted, wiggling his eyebrows, and they dissolved into giggles. The conversation went downhill from there, but it was usual college-kid banter.
It was after seven when Jared returned to his dorm. He was grateful to be away from the rest of his classmates. It was a strain discussing their project, and especially their group leader, and pretending to know nothing about him. Jensen didn't stay for Jared, but he had returned to Monkota. He had watched Jared, but he hadn't contacted him. However irrational it seemed, it hurt.
Jared stared at his books without reading. He reminded himself that he had pulled himself out of the situation he was in, and into an education, without Jensen's money or his help. He wrote the application, attended the interview, and passed an exam, and Madame hadn't needed to speak to anybody on his behalf.
Jared buried his head in his arms. Whatever blame he was assigning, it had been the right decision to send Jensen away, a year ago. Jared couldn't trust him, and he needed to reclaim his own pride. If Jared could relive Jensen's request to take him away, he knew his answer would be the same, yet when they were together, Jensen was like gravity. He pulled him in from every direction, and Jared felt the force in his body, heart and soul.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Rachel bustled in and sat on his bed without waiting for answer. She patted the space next to her, and he moved to sit with her. “Are you okay?”
Jared sat up straight and rubbed wet eyes. “Of course. Why wouldn't I be?”
“Because you freaked when you met Ackles. Because you spent the entire session avoiding him, and he did the same with you. Because you have virtually the same mark on your faces.” She brushed his hair aside, to touch Jared’s cheek gently. “It's less obvious on you, but it's there. Everyone in our group has reasons why they're in this program, and I am sure you aren't the only ex-slave, or ex-POW. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“It's not like that,” Jared protested.
“You have history, though? Does he scare you? You could still swap out.” Rachel suggested quietly.
Jared didn’t think before defending Jensen. “No. No. Of course not. It’s me. He just…he's kind of a dick. I didn’t know he was here.”
Rachel waited for Jared to say more, or explain, but instead they sat in silence. Jared picked at his thumbnail. She finally broke the silence with a pat on his knee, and a tug of his hand. “C'mon. We're going to see Steve and Chris perform. Drink is on me, as long as it's a soda. No arguments.”
“Don't tell anyone about us, Jensen and me.”
“Is there a Jensen and you? You haven't told me anything,” she raised her eyebrows and laughed, “Of course not.”
Jared let himself be pulled along. He would show Jensen that he never needed him. He enjoyed the gig in a quiet corner of the bar, and when a student called Tom, as tall as him, with sparkling blue eyes and a dirty laugh asked to buy him a drink, he accepted.
Part seventeen