If There's A Rocket Tie Me To It - Chapter Five (Part 1)
Part 2 - Chapter Five
-Five Years Later-
"I am completely exhausted." Jared fell backwards onto his brown leather couch and stared up at the ceiling. Sadie and Harley circled around his legs, clamoring for attention, but the most he could do was hold his hands out and run them over the dogs' backs. Neither seemed to mind too much.
"Dude, you couldn't have done more than sit in your chair all day and take patient notes. You're not, like, running or anything." Chad poked his head around the partition that divided their kitchen from the living room. Jared suspected that Chad was washing dishes, but didn't have the energy to ask. He kind of assumed the world would implode if he caught Chad doing actual housework.
"It's not that. It's reading them. Trying to figure out what the hell is going on inside their heads and pointing them in the right direction. I always thought that being a psychiatrist would be easy with my Craft, but it's not. In the slightest. People are so fucked up, Chad, I can't even tell you. And it's those creepy sensations I've been getting lately. It's keeping me up at night. Sometimes being a full Empath sucks."
"Jared, a few things. First, yes, I know people are fucked up. Why do you think Sophia's broken up with me three times?"
"Common sense?"
"Shut up. Anyway, you know I'm kidding. I know people are messed up. I'm pretty damn impressed that you're even trying to get out there and help them one-on-one. You can do so much more." Chad left unsaid what Jared felt all the time anyway. He could make people feel things. He could influence them toward a better life. But after what happened five years ago, it was an ability he took very, very seriously, and the fact that Chad avoided even mentioning it told Jared how sensitive the subject still was.
"Next, it's your first week. Give your newbie ass a break and chill out." Chad came back into the living room and handed Jared a beer.
"It's not like I'm completely new to it, though. I did so much work during my practicum."
"But this? It's yours. Your name is on that door, Jared, and you're holding all the responsibility. But it's your first week. It'll get easier. Maybe not the Craft part, but the experience part. You still haven't even made the office home."
"I put up pictures! It's got a nice atmosphere! I have a plant."
Chad rolled his eyes and sat down on the sofa chair nearby. "A plant your mom gave you, but that's not the point. And you're being a dick. You aren't comfortable there yet, but you will be. So chill."
Jared narrowed his eyes and mock glared at Chad. "I'm still exhausted."
Chad shrugged and changed the subject. "So, you say you've been getting 'creepy sensations.' What does that mean?"
"I have no idea. Things just don't feel right. I mean, people I meet still give me all the normal reactions as I'm used to. But I just keep picking up this tension in the air."
"Just keep sleeping on it. It'll resolve itself eventually. And if it doesn’t, you can call Sam Ferris. I think she sees you as her ‘Mini Me.’"
"When did you get so wise? It's not fair."
Chad knocked his foot into Jared's. "I just hang out with you, oh people reader." He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and flicked on the television.
The two watched a football game in companionable silence for a while, but Jared found himself drifting in and out, glad to finally just have the chance to sit. They'd only been in this house a few weeks, a small, yet roomy place in the heart of Denver. Jared had fallen in love with Colorado, especially the hiking opportunities it offered him and the dogs, who he'd adopted a year ago on a total whim. He'd also picked up a psychiatry job in the nearby ritzier Cherry Creek neighborhood.
At first, Jared had thought he'd be meeting with bored housewives all day, or possibly frustrated executives. He had expected a dose of normalcy, teenage drama, and mid-life crises. Instead, he'd already picked up on two cases of abuse, some kind of post traumatic stress disorder, and an abnormal fear of coffee mugs. And that was three days in.
Chad was working odd jobs at the moment, trying to find a good place to use his own degree, which had nothing to do with his telepathy Craft. He had ended up majoring in Applied Sciences, and had sent his resume to several schools in the area to see if they were interested in a teacher. Several positive replies had come back, but for the moment, Chad was stuck in waiting hell.
Jared finally roused himself an hour later to make some dinner, relieving Chad of his duties. Chad was a much better cook, but Jared felt he needed the time to do something with his hands, rather than letting his mind stretch around other people's problems. He had more of it tomorrow, and although he was making a good salary, he really hoped that Chad was right and things would get marginally less stressful.
As he chopped up vegetables, he couldn't help but play his usual game with himself. Here he was, five years after Jensen had run, quit school, and literally dropped off the face of the map. Jensen had left him, and Jared didn't want to go after someone that didn't want him. Still, it didn't keep him from feeling guilty, from feeling like he should have gone to make sure he hadn't done Jensen any irreparable harm. But he hadn't looked, and now Jared had to make do with wondering what Jensen was doing now. If he was ok. If Jared forcing his Craft barrier wide open had somehow harmed him. If Jared had crossed the rape line.
He couldn't think of it for long. He just had to be content thinking that somewhere else, maybe Jensen was also chopping vegetables, wondering what his life would have been with Jared.
This game? It kind of sucked.
_____
Jared's three clients the next day were about as different as any three people could be. Mrs. White, he had been informed, was a long-time client who asked to see the "new young hot thing,” and apparently was well known for switching psychiatrists whenever a younger man started working at the office. Her case file was startlingly slim for someone who had been going to sessions for as long as she had, and the secretary, Alona, informed him that she was there just to get out of the house and alleviate some of her boredom. He figured they'd spend a lot of time talking about gossip at the health club, but if she wanted to pay for it, it was up to her.
His second client was a wiry little shopkeeper who had been labeled as schizophrenic. Meeting her gave Jared no other hints as to how to help her better, so he mentally filed her under "by the book" and considered that his Thursdays might be pretty slow in terms of brain-breaking frustration. It wasn't that he wanted to marginalize what the first two patients had or why they were being treated, but he was just glad that his Craft didn't tug at him with them. It was just being given a chance to breathe.
His last client was late in the day. He was a man who had clearly just come from work, tie loosened around his neck, waves of tiredness seeping off his body. It was his first time in the office, so Jared didn't know what to expect. Alona had given him the few notes the client, Mr. Thyne, had provided. The man suffered from disturbing, yet vivid dreams. After having such a slow day beforehand, Jared found himself almost anticipating his end-of-day meeting.
Upon meeting Mr. Thyne, Jared felt like he’d met the man somewhere before. Thyne was giving off fairly regular emotions - tiredness, nervousness, anticipation - so Jared couldn’t pin down when and if they’d ever met. The man was fairly ordinary, otherwise. Worked nearby as an investment banker, lived in an older house that had been divided into three smaller units, was allergic to cats. But he was also having dreams that literally had him tossing and turning all night long, and that's why he'd come to see Jared.
"So what mainly happens in your dreams?" Jared scribbled away on his yellow notepad.
"I'm running from something. Hiding. It's like dreaming a horror movie every night, but I don't know who the villain is." Thyne rubbed at his eyes.
"And when did they start?"
"Three weeks ago. I just moved, so I thought it was the stress coming out at night, but it hasn't stopped. I've tried sleeping pills, booze, warm milk, a massage, and I'm at wit's end." He flopped back against his chair and stared at the ceiling.
"So walk me through a dream. Pick the one that sticks with you the most."
Thyne continued staring at the ceiling, but Jared was getting strong emotions as if he was composing himself, getting ready to walk through this again. It disturbed Jared that the dreams were so vivid that the guy had to prep to even think about them.
"I've just come down off a mountain made of boulder when I'm suddenly in a field," he started, fell silent. Jared waited for him to continue. As much as Jared liked to talk, this wasn't his session. "It's not just a field. It's bigger than that. But it's like it's owned by someone, and the grass goes as far as I can see. That doesn't matter, because I'm next to the only thing in the field. It's a giant clock."
Jared felt his stomach drop out from underneath him. "What kind of clock?"
"Like a grandfather clock. Cherry wood or something. It's really dark, but the hands and everything else shine really bright, like they've been polished. And I'm not kidding you. This clock is huge, I mean, it's abnormally large for a clock of its type. Maybe four stories tall." Jared scribbled meaningless swirls on his notepad, trying to buy some time to let his brain catch up.
"So, what happens next?" It was a formality. He knew what happened next. The king would find him. They would fight. But Jared wouldn't win. The king, a man made of darkness, would hit him, and he would feel blood run from his nose, feel dizzy from the force of impact against his temple. And when he had almost lost, Jensen would abandon him.
His head snapped up, and he realized that Thyne was talking, but he hadn't heard a word of it. He didn't need to hear anymore. He let Thyne finish the rest, which was just as he predicted, and then led the man through a few breathing exercises that could help him sleep better, and he'd never been so happy to see someone go.
Chad wasn't home when Jared arrived, and he couldn't have been happier. Chad's unsettling ability to pick up thoughts and worries were a perfect, yet annoying compliment to Jared's Craft, but there were times that he couldn't talk about what was going on with him, and this was definitely one of them.
Jared wasn't stupid. He'd spent five years thinking about everything that had led up to Jensen's flight: his inept bumbling with his Craft, his desire to hide nothing from Jensen after the inept way he handled his failed friendship with Sandy, and he knew that the dreams he'd had all that semester were because of Jensen. They'd stopped the moment Jensen was gone. He'd always worried about why Jensen had dreams like that. And how he could find out.
It was time to make a call.
"Hey, kid." Jeffrey Dean Morgan's warm, calm voice went a long way to helping Jared know he'd made the right decision.
"Jeff, I think I found Jensen."
Jeff was silent a beat, but Jared had to give him credit, he jumped right back into the discussion. "I thought you'd decided not to look for him, Jared. I thought you were going to let him be."
"I know, Jeff." Jared leaned his forehead against the entryway wall. "But it's not just because I want to find him. A client came to see me today. He's been having dreams, really bad ones. Worse than I had in college. I think Jensen lives in his building."
"How do you know that Jensen's the one having these dreams? Or that it's any worse. Maybe this client of yours is just very sensitive."
"Jeff, I appreciate you playing Devil's advocate here, but let's not pussyfoot around this. I'm the most sensitive Empath in pretty much all of North America. My client? If he's dreaming, yeah, he's apparently got some sensitivity to Craft, but he's not even a blip on the radar. I think Jensen needs help. I mean, who dreams that shit every night for their entire life?"
"A Projectionist does." Jeff's voice was quiet, and Jared knew why.
They'd spent many an hour discussing why Jensen had been able to hide his sensitivity to Craft, and the only reason Jeff had been able to come up with was that Jensen had a very strong Craft: Projection. He could project dreams or images, but apparently in Jensen's case, he could also become completely blank. Jared thought that until he blew Jensen's defenses away, Jensen’s hiding had all been instinctual. Jeff hadn't disagreed. Jensen was clearly protecting himself, and there was something inside Jared that said time was running out for Jensen, and fast.
"Jeff, he needs help. If he's running blind on something, then it's time I made up for being such an ass."
"Jared, you were a kid."
"Yeah? I'm not a kid now. I'm twenty-four, Jeff. I've got two degrees, good friends, and the chance to help the one person in this world that I fucked over."
"What if he doesn't want your help?"
Jared's eyes fluttered shut as he imagined the possibility. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."
They said their goodbyes, and Jared sat down to start forming a plan of attack. He couldn't go tonight - it was already getting a bit late, and conversations like the one he hoped to have were better left to happen with plenty of daylight hours to spare. The wait until the weekend seemed interminable, but Jared knew that would be the best time.
By the time Chad got home, Jared had written out several plans, questions, and ways to approach Jensen. He heard the front door slam, Chad toss his keys on the table near the door, stop, and say, "Son of a bitch."
_____
"In some states, this is considered stalking." Chad took a sip of his soda and rooted around in the bag of chips that sat between them in the SUV's center console.
Jared's drink remained untouched. They sat parked across the street from Jensen's house. A quick call to a local friend who worked at the city confirmed Jensen’s residence on the main floor of the separated house. Jared decided that Friday afternoon was the perfect time to take a quick look-see at the place Jensen had apparently been living in for several years.
A "For Rent" sign stood outside the front door. Jared wasn't surprised to see that Jensen’s landlord likely had a revolving door of people who rented the other spaces. If Jensen was projecting as badly as Jared suspected, any Craft-sensitive person would have trouble living near him. Maybe even non-Craft-sensitive people depending on how strong Jensen's talent was.
Despite the large “For Rent” sign, the house looked inviting. Three-stories tall, with eaves that arched up into upside down V's that Jared would have expected to see on a gingerbread house. Jared and Chad had even looked at a few of the places nearby when they were looking for somewhere to live. It kind of freaked Jared out at how close he and Jensen had been all this time. Jared was pretty sure the house had a few entrances. There were likely two around back that led downstairs for the basement resident, then steep stairs up to the attic residence. Jensen seemed to have the main and second floors to the place, and Jared suddenly wondered what Jensen did for a living. Houses like this weren't cheap.
"C'mon, dude, this is freaking me out."
"Do you sense him at all?" Jared extended his senses as far as possible. He didn't know if the place had a garage or if everyone parked on the street.
"I'm getting radio silence from the house. Nobody seems to be home, if you're operating on the assumption that he's no longer able to shield himself."
"I am." It was getting physically hard for Jared not go get out of the car and go to the house right now. "Chad, remember that creepy feeling I was having earlier this week? It's really, really strong right now. I'm getting goose bumps."
He didn’t know how to describe it to Chad, but it was more than just a “creepy feeling.” A sense of hushed silence played over his mind, reminding Jared of times he’d hidden under his covers from the bed monster as a child. He’d known that only his blanket separated him from the outside world, but sometimes the air inside his hidey-hole would get too warm, too stifling, and he’d have to burst free to get a breath of fresh air. Right now his entire head felt like it was buried under a pile of blankets. He needed to take a breath.
Chad talked on, oblivious to Jared’s sense of foreboding. "So this feeling has something to do with Jensen? That's bizarre, dude. If you haven't felt him once in the last five years, and suddenly you do, I don't know what to think."
"Maybe it's always been there, but not this strong?"
"That's pretty coincidental, don't you think?" Chad had another handful of chips. "Besides, what can you do right now?"
"Nothing. Stress. Worry." Jared banged his head against the top of the steering wheel.
"Then we have nothing to do here, Jared. You're coming back over tomorrow, and hopefully he'll be home."
"What if he's not?"
"Then you'll ring the bell on Sunday, too. Jesus, Jared, calm down." Chad grabbed his shoulder and made Jared look at him. "You being a nervous wreck isn't going to help Jensen, especially if he's sensitive to your abilities now. Your Crafts are so close in nature that you guys could amplify each other to death or something."
Jared only knew how true that was. The orgasm, when everything had fallen apart - he knew now that it hadn't been just him. Together, their Crafts had resonated, and kind of like one of those toys where the balls kept tapping back and forth (he tried to ignore that pun), hadn't stopped until one side broke.
He started the car and headed home. Chad was right. If he projected worry and nerves all over the place, he could mess up everything with Jensen. It took just a few miles for them to arrive at home. Unexpectedly, Jeff's car stood out front, their former professor sitting in one of the lawn chairs set up under the house's awning. He saluted them as they climbed out of the SUV.
"Long time, no see," he said, blue eyes twinkling.
"You're only in Boulder, not that far. But why are you here?" Jared unlocked the front door and they all trooped inside.
"Because if tomorrow rolls around and you need someone to intervene on a more serious level, I'm going to be around. Just seemed like the right thing to do. Besides, I've never met a Projectionist before, and I'm curious." Jeff rounded the corner and grabbed three beers out of the fridge, then passed them around. They all stood in the kitchen, each lost in his own thoughts, when Harley and Sadie came in, weaving around their legs and showing their love.
"Jeff, what if I really damaged him? What if I made everything worse?" The words came tumbling out of Jared's mouth before he could stop them.
"Hey." Jeff put his arm around Jared's shoulders and steered him into the living room, where they sat down on the couch. Chad was conspicuously absent. "You have to stop looking at this like you meant to hurt him, Jared. I know you didn't, you know you didn't, and Jensen knows you didn't. But what happened is in the past. You can't go back, and even if you did, you wouldn't know what you do now. You had no idea that he was hiding anything. You still don't know if he's hiding anything, or if the guy just has wacky dreams, though I doubt it.”
"Something is going on. I've had this odd feeling all week long, and when we drove by Jensen's house today it was like I was swimming in it."
"Describe 'odd.'"
"Odd. Spending all week being creeped out. Feeling at all times like there's something behind me. Generally feeling like something is wrong. I don't know, Jeff. It all has to do with emotions, and I don't know how to describe this. It just won't go away. And yes, that is my professional description. It'd be like if you ran into someone with a Craft you'd never seen before. That would give you pause, right?"
"I can see where you're coming from. Jared, the only advice I can give you is to just go. Maybe you are picking these sensations up because something's gotten worse in the last week. Or because you spend all day trying to get emotions from your clients at work. Did you think of that? You're essentially stretching your abilities every day, and as great as that is, it also leaves you open to new things that you may not be expecting."
Jeff had a point. Jared offered him a spot in their spare bedroom, then went to get his shower done before they started getting dinner ready.
As he stood under the deluge of water, Jared's eyes fluttered closed and he slowly began to draw his senses back into himself. Normally he operated with his Craft facing outward all the time, letting sensations rush by him. It was like walking past a clothing rack in a store, feeling each garment as he went by. They all had different textures, different purposes, but in the end they were all clothes. People were like that too. Most emotions weren't too different from one another, once it got boiled down. Anger, fear, frustration, happiness, sadness, joy, excitement - Jared had gotten familiar with all of them.
Now, though, he closed himself off from them, simply giving his mind a chance to rest. It was something he hardly did, since the sensation was so odd. But it felt good today. The uneasiness he'd felt for the past week subsided, and the tension in his shoulders that Jared hadn't even been aware he was carrying eased away with the water.
Just for the simple feeling of release, he began to jerk himself off, letting his mind drift to Jensen, to other partners he'd had, but always back to Jensen. Nothing had ever been the same since then, no matter how badly Jared had wanted to find someone. Only when he was alone like this could Jared admit that it had always been Jensen. It was kind of sad considering that he'd been without Jensen for five years, yet the thought of Jensen's lips on his, their eyes meeting in love, that was the thing that brought him to release more times than not.
It was also only when he was alone, closed off from even Chad's telepathy, that he could admit to himself that he might be chasing a pipe dream, that the Jensen he hoped to see would never exist again.
With a sob he came, crying out his frustration and fear, and hoping that tomorrow would be the day he could put things right.
Go to Part Two, HERE! | Master Post