Drifting Through Doorways Chapter 3
“You're something between a dream and a miracle.”
― Elizabeth Barrett Browning
III.
Thursday, October 24
Jensen’s alarm clock blared its awful electronic screech and he hit the device haplessly with one hand until he hit the snooze button. Should have splurged on the fancy one, he thought, could have been waking up to cathedral bells instead of this shit. He sat up and flipped the alarm switch to off so he wouldn’t have to hear its obnoxious noise again in ten minutes. Once he’d forgotten it and it went off while Jensen was in the shower, scaring him so badly he’d nearly fallen out of the bathtub. Chris had laughed hysterically when he’d heard the story, reluctantly told only after Chris had noticed the giant rend in Jensen’s shower curtain. Jensen, nursing an angry bruise on his shin, hadn’t found it quite as funny.
Once in the shower, Jensen stood under the steady stream of water as it sluiced down his body, letting it wake him up fully. It was then that he remembered his dream; remembered Jared. God, the guy was gorgeous, but what a strange dream it was. Jensen had been what - some kind of ghost? Undead? It was a little creepy, if Jensen were to be honest with himself. He poured a dollop of shampoo in his hand and started to scrub his hair while wondering just what his subconscious was trying to tell him.
I’m never drinking with Chris and Steve again, he told himself, trying to lighten his own mood. Seriously though, what was with that dream? Why would he dream he was dead? More, why would his brain invent a husband for him and then make that husband mourn Jensen? He shook his head, both to clear the thoughts from his head and the water from his eyes. It didn’t work, on either count.
It was as he was stepping out of the shower that he remembered the first dream - the one that had him awake and feeding the cat at 3:45 in the morning. Holy shit, that was me in the coffin, he realized. Startled by the thought, he banged his shin on the edge of the tub and cursed louder than was probably necessary. Damn it, if he kept this up he was going to have a perma-bruise on his shin, right at the level of the edge of the tub.
Shakily, he ran his hands over his chest, remembering how the blood had bloomed there. Fuck. He really hoped the dream wasn’t prophetic, because he really didn’t want to die. He knew that if he were to die today, there’d be no one who’d mourn him so deeply as the man in his dream did. Sure, his parents, his siblings and his friends would mourn him, but not like that. Not as if the one light in the universe had been extinguished. Jensen felt a pang in his heart as he realized he had no one he’d mourn like that either. He couldn’t say with any certainty that if Jennifer had died at the pinnacle of their relationship that he’d have felt the loss as strongly as Jared did. Does, Jensen thought, and then, Doesn’t, because he’s not real. Jensen steadied himself on the counter, feeling a little dizzy.
Maybe, just maybe, Jensen’s newly single status was a good thing (if after three months it could still be considered new). Then again, it had been three months without waking up next to someone, to have someone there when he came home, to hold and be held by in return. It’d been three months and already Jensen felt like he was missing out on something. He didn’t talk about it much, or at all really, because his friends were all classic straight male types who thought that any discussion of feelings outside of an emergency (or alcohol-induced) situation was treading on girly territory.
Jensen wiped the steam from the mirror and prepared to shave. Doesn’t matter anyway, he thought. It was just a dream.
Finally dressed and a bit more ready to face the day, Jensen stood in the kitchen staring impatiently at his coffee pot as it filled slowly. He tapped his fingers on the counter in time with the drip, drip, drip and grew annoyed when he couldn’t seem to get that stupid dream out of his head. He stared across the kitchen island into the living room, rested his chin on his hand and sighed.
The walls flashed to grey. It lasted a split-second and Jensen stopped tapping his fingers and shook his head. Just then the cat made a figure eight around his legs, asking to be fed or let out and it brought Jensen’s brain back on track. He blinked, because there was no way that actually just happened. He opted for the cliché reaction because, hey, why not, and pinched the crap out of his arm to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
“Ow, fuck!” he cursed and rubbed the spot he’d just pinched. “Okay. I didn’t plan on losing my mind until I was a little older, but there you go. “
“J-Jensen?”
Jensen’s head snapped up, and he looked around wide-eyed for the source of the voice. There was no one here that he could see; the apartment was just as empty as it was when Jensen came out of the bedroom. At least he hoped it was.
“Who’s there?” he called, loudly. “Chris? Is that you?” He knew it wasn’t Chris. The voice was deeper and completely wrong for Chris. It definitely wasn’t Steve either. Jensen skittered backwards until his back pressed against the counter. Wanting a weapon, he borrowed a move from nearly every cheesy horror movie ever and pulled the biggest knife he owned out of his knife block. Slowly, methodically, he looked around his apartment again.
From where Jensen was pressed back against his kitchen counter he could almost see his entire apartment; from the front door his eyes swept across the living room and down the hallway to the closed doors of his office, bathroom and bedroom.
“Jensen?” the voice asked again, sounding weak and a little breathless. “Oh my god, Jensen!”
“Who’s there?” Jensen demanded again, his own voice rough, as he inched his way out of the kitchen. The owner of the voice sounded close, so obviously there was a ventriloquist hiding somewhere in his apartment fucking with him. Fucker could be in the office, he thought, or maybe in the bathroom. God, was he in there when I was showering? It was kind of a horrifying thought.
“Jensen, baby, it’s me. It’s Jared. Where are you, Jen? I can’t see you!” the voice sounded a little panicked now. Okay, so it was a blind ventriloquist who somehow happened to share a name with the guy Jensen dreamed of last night, and - Jensen started laughing, because the lack of logic in that bordered on ridiculous.
“Oh my God, I’ve actually gone crazy!” Jensen said, loudly. He put the knife back in its block, still laughing a little. He leaned on the counter and threaded his hands through his hair. “Congratulations, Jennifer, you did it, you bitch. You actually drove me mad.” He may as well talk to Jennifer as if she was here, because if he was really crazy he kind of had a free license to do so.
I wonder what kind of crazy comes with auditory hallucinations, he wondered. Meanwhile, said auditory hallucination came back with, “Jensen? Who’s Jennifer? Are you a ghost? Is Jennifer a ghost? Oh, my God, are you haunting me?”
“Jared, hush,” Jensen said, holding up a hand even though this hallucination claimed not to be able to see him. “I’m not haunting you. I’m pretty sure I’m alive, and that you’re not real. You’re some kind of manifestation of stress from my breakup with Jennifer.”
“Breakup? With Jennifer? Jensen, you never dated anyone named Jennifer. You’re gay, remember?”
“Bi, actually,” he responded and then winced. It was an automatic response by now, but sometimes it doesn’t go over well - people didn’t like to be corrected, but Jensen felt if he had to be labeled, it might as well be the correct label. He waited to see if he’d offended Jared. No, not Jared. My delusion; Jared doesn’t exist.
Just then the doorbell rang. Jensen glanced at the clock. It was just a few minutes past 6:30 in the morning and Jensen wondered which of his insane friends dragged themselves out of bed to come pound on his door this early. Shit, it’s probably important.
“Jensen, I-“ Jared started.
“Jared, I can’t deal with you right now. There’s someone at my door, so I need you to stay quiet. Please,” Jensen felt a little bad for cutting Jared off (but then not, because it shouldn’t count if you were rude to a fucking hallucination, of all things.) He heard an indignant huff that had to have come from Jared as he moved toward the front door.
“No one’s at the door,” Jared said, sounding perplexed.
“Shut up!” Jensen said again, his voice a near whisper. Another thought occurred to him. Maybe, just maybe, one of his friends was messing with him, and they were here to fess up. What did they do? Sneak into his apartment while he was busy in the studio yesterday and wire speakers in? Yeah, that would be a hell of an intricate prank, but if they had the means Jensen had no doubt they’d actually do it.
Looking through the peephole, Jensen saw a familiar, petite blonde woman standing outside. He opened the door and tried to paste a smile on his face.
“Alona, hi! What are you doing here?”
Her arms were full of something lumpy wrapped in brown packing paper, and she pushed past Jensen without waiting to be invited in.
“You know how to make a girl feel welcome, Jensen,” she said, setting whatever it was she was holding on Jensen’s coffee table. “And stop trying to fake smile. It’s creepy.”
Jensen did manage a genuine smile at that. “My smile’s not creepy.”
“Jensen, who’s there? Oh, God, tell me you didn’t just bring in more ghosts. Are you a ghost? Jensen? Are you there?” Jared’s voice echoed loud and clear through the apartment.
Jensen looked around a bit frantically. Alona seemed nonplussed, standing by the coffee table with her arms crossed.
“Did you hear something?” Jensen asked. Alona tilted her head.
“Should I have?” she asked. “Aren’t you at all curious about what I’ve brought you?”
Alona was a wonderful interior designer, and usually Jensen couldn’t wait to see what new treasure she’d found for him. After Jennifer left, Jensen hired her to redo the entire apartment. He didn’t feel like moving, but he wanted a fresh start, so he called up Tal Design & Creations at the recommendation of a client. He got Alona Tal out of the deal, owner of the company and interior design genius. So far, his only quibble with her had been over the wall color when her blue won over his gray.
“Of course I’m curious,” Jensen said, distracted. He wandered into his kitchen and starts opening cabinets. He scooted his plates over and looked behind them. Maybe there was a speaker hidden somewhere. Maybe there was a logical reason that Alona didn’t seem to hear Jared.
“Jensen, I’m in here,” Alona sounded a little exasperated so Jensen walked back into the living room, but only after doing a cursory glance through his freezer and refrigerator.
“Sorry! Sorry,” he said. “What’s with the paper? I thought we were done decorating.”
“Aw, sugar, don’t you know I missed you?” Alona said with a fake drawl. “Actually, I’ve just found the finishing touch for you. Ta da!”
With that she pulled the lumpy paper off the package she brought over and Jensen took his first look at it.
“What is it?” Jensen asked.
“What is what?” Jared said, a beat behind, and if nothing else, this was going to drive Jensen crazy.
The statue sat on a smooth black marble square which was mounted again to a larger brass platform. The animal was arched with its butt in the air; its front legs straight out as if in prayer or supplication. The head was reared back, far enough that the great curved horns hovered just above its back. If this was pose taken from nature (and Jensen doubted it somehow), then the beast was either landing after an awkward jump or posturing before a fight to mate. Aside from the marble base, the entire thing was cast in highly polished brass and heavy as hell. Jensen just knew that Misha would be knocking this over, and only hoped that it wouldn’t land on the cat if, no, when he did. Jensen really didn’t need vet bills right now.
“It’s an impala, oh Nature Guru,” Alona said, mouth tilted up in a smirk.
“Nature Guru? Me?” Jensen turned away and lifted up his couch cushions - first the left one, then the right. The speaker could be in his couch. Alona could be in on it; paid to pretend she can’t hear Jared so Jensen really thinks he’s crazy.
“I’ve seen you watching Animal Planet,” Alona said, and Jensen could hear the strange look she was giving him in her voice. “Did you lose something?” She scurried over to stand next to him and looked down at his couch, her expression dubious.
“Um, maybe?” is all Jensen said. He’d moved on to his end table, lifting the lamp and looking under the shade and under the base.
“How do you maybe lose something?” Alona wanted to know.
“Jensen, who are you talking to?” Jared wanted to know.
“Will you both just be quiet?!” Jensen yelled, spinning around to face Alona. Her eyebrows lifted and she took a step back.
“Hey, Jensen, are you okay?” Her eyes were wide with concern.
“I’m fine!” he responded, and it was still too loud.
“Hey, inside voice, Jensen. If you’re going to yell at me - which I don’t deserve, by the way - then I’m taking this kick-ass impala back where I found it, and I’m going to be really, really pissed off at you.” Alona moved toward the statue, and Jensen put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her progress.
“I’m sorry, Al,” he said. “I’m feeling a little out of it this morning.”
“Who’s Al?” Jared asked, and it caused Jensen to close his eyes, pinch the bridge of his nose and try to calm his breathing. “Is Al a, uh, ghost friend of yours?”
Jensen turned to Alona. “Are you seriously telling me you don’t hear that?”
“Hear what, Jensen?” Alona asked, her arms crossed over her narrow chest. “You’re starting to freak me out. Are you on something?”
“What? Of course not,” Jensen said, letting a little righteous indignation seep into his tone.
“So you’re not on anything, and you’re hearing things?” Alona was starting to sound scared. This was not good. Jensen forced himself to laugh.
“I’m just fuckin’ with you, Tal,” he said. He really hoped she wasn’t in on this joke with Chris or Steve or one of his other friends. She raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“That’s not funny,” she said. “Can you look at the statue I brought for you now, or is that asking too much?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Jensen said, noticing that Jared hadn’t piped up in a minute or two. Maybe it’s over.
“Well? What do you think?”
“I don’t know, Alona,” he said finally. “It’s not really me, you know? Actually I think Jenni might have liked it.”
The face that Alona pulled was both amusing and frightening in its intensity. “Jennifer would have hated it.”
Jensen wasn’t that petty. At least, he’d like to think he wasn’t, but looking at the statuette now he realized Alona was right. Jennifer would have vetoed it. He took another look, appraisingly. It wasn’t that bad after all. It was sleek and sophisticated; much like Jennifer. Hell, it even had horns - Jensen hoped he wasn’t being suckered.
“Nothing I pick out Jenni liked,” she said. “Remember that fight you had right in front of me about how I was a professional and went to school for this? And that was after you broke up. Maybe you ought to remember that. Besides, what will I do with this thing if you don’t want it? I thought you’d love it. I was so sure you’d love it, I paid for it with my own money because I knew I could count on you, Jensen. Are you letting me down? I feel like your letting me down.”
And there it was, the feeling of guilt that Alona definitely wanted him to feel. He sighed. “Okay, let’s see how it looks and then maybe you can find another client to buy it. “ He held out his hands and Alona hefted the monstrosity into his awaiting arms.
Alona followed Jensen over to the fireplace, and Misha followed right behind Alona and bumped his little furry head against her ankle.
“Misha!” Alona crooned, dropping into a crouch so she could pet the cat. Misha arched up and purred at her as her fingers stroked down his back and ruffled his fur. “Who’s a pretty kitty? Huh? Who is a pretty kitty? You are! Misha’s a pretty kitty. Oh, Jensen, he’s so sweet. I can’t believe Jennifer wanted you to re-home him. She wasn’t even living here when you found him.”
Jensen set the impala statue on the shelf above his fireplace but didn’t take time to really look at it before he turned to Alona. “I know. Crazy, huh? He’s a pretty good cat, I guess. I never did find out who he belongs to.”
Misha rubbed forcefully against Alona’s hand, letting her know that she’d gone lax with her petting. She laughed and resumed rubbing his back. As he turned away, she ran her hand down his tail, ending the petting session. Standing back up, she said, “You know, you should really get him fixed. Don’t male cats spray to mark their territory?”
“So I’ve heard,” Jensen said. “But he’s never done that. It kind of makes me cringe a little, to be honest. But I should be a responsible pet owner and get that done, I guess. Especially since I let him outside. He probably spends all his outside time siring litters.”
Misha, instead of walking away, seemed to have taken an interest in the conversation. He sat on the floor between Jensen and Alona, looking back and forth between the two of them. His body tensed, as if he was going to make a run for it. Alona reached down and scooped him up. Jensen winced, knowing the cat didn’t really like being held. He seemed to tolerate it from Alona, though
“You probably are doing just that, you pervy cat,” she laughed. “You don’t want to go to the vet and get those fluffy nuts cut off, do you?”
At that the cat pointed his ears backwards and took an honest to God swipe at Alona’s neck. Startled, she dropped him and took a step back. Jensen was surprised too; Misha had never been anything but sweet to Alona. Jensen couldn’t really blame the cat though. He’d probably do the same thing if anyone ever suggested he get his fluffy nuts cut off. Jensen didn’t know whether to laugh or grimace. He choked out a sort of half laugh before he managed to stifle it.
“You okay, Tal?” he asked, gently touching her arm to turn her toward the fireplace.
“Yeah, he didn’t get me,” she said. “Oh, Jensen, see! I told you it would be perfect!”
Jensen had to grudgingly admit she was right. Although he’d would have preferred it if the animal wasn’t posed in quite so odd a position, it did look nice. He stole a glance over at Alona, surprised at how emotional she’d gotten over the statuette.
“Alona?” he said her name softly, just to get her attention. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, wiping at her eyes. “It’s just - that’s it. That’s the last piece. Anything else and it would be too much. My work here is done.”
It almost felt like another breakup. Jensen knew that was ridiculous, but it was true nonetheless. He was going to miss Alona popping by with random crap. Jensen elbowed her.
“Are you crying?”
“What? No! Of course not,” Alona smiled and rolled her eyes which were decidedly watery.
“You know you’re welcome here whenever you want to stop by, right?” he said. “Actually, now that my apartment is decorated I should have a party or something. Housewarming party, right?”
“Jensen,” said Alona with amusement in her voice. “You’ve lived here for years - you’ve just redecorated. Besides, everyone knows you can’t throw your own housewarming party.”
“I can’t?”
“No! I forbid it,” Alona laughed, crossing her arms over her chest. “But don’t worry, I might know someone who might be able to do something.”
Jensen laughed, sure that he could count Alona as a friend rather than just his interior designer. “Just tell me when to be here for my party dammit.”
Alona shared the laugh with Jensen. “Oh, I almost forgot. The statue is $300.”
Jensen choked. “Three hundred? Dollars?”
“No, Jensen, clams. Of course dollars. That includes tax and fees and whatnot and I’ll bring you a receipt when I see you next time.”
“I don’t know that I like it that much,” Jensen said. He turned back to the statue just in time to see Misha jump up on the mantle to investigate the new piece. “Oh, no! Get down! Bad kitty!” he rushed over and scooped the cat up, who promptly twisted into a pretzel and freed himself from Jensen’s grasp. He rushed past Alona, who had opened the front door just a little in preparation for her own departure.
Jensen sighed. “Damn cat,” he muttered. “Hold on, Al, and I’ll write you a check for the statue.”
“You’re keeping it?” Alona’s eyes lit up and she grinned. “See, I knew you’d love it!”
Jensen just smiled as he walks to his office and retrieved his checkbook. He looked around his office for any evidence of a speaker, and since Alona wasn’t in here, he walked over to the wall and stood on his tip-toes to look into the heating vent that was located near the top of the wall.
“Hello?” he said into the vent. He was relieved when nothing answered him. He quickly wrote out a check to Alona, tore it from its booklet and rushed out to hand her the document.
“Here you go, Alona. Three hundred bucks for the finishing touch,” Jensen said and hoped he sounded genuinely happy about the statue. Alona’s answering grin reassured him.
“Pleasure working with you, Ackles,” she said. “I’ll see you at the not-a-housewarming-party I or my associates may or may not be throwing for you.”
“Sounds like a plan, Al,” Jensen laughed at her ambiguity. She mock saluted him and showed herself out, shutting the door firmly behind her. Jensen breathed a sigh of relief. No loony bin for him - not yet, at least.
“So,” Jared said, and Jensen bit back a curse. “The afterlife sounds awfully domestic.”
“I’m not a ghost, Jared!” Jensen fumed, storming back into his kitchen to get some damn coffee. “You’re not real. This isn’t real.”
He poured his coffee into his stainless steel travel mug and left his apartment for the office. Thankfully, his delusion (or practical joke) didn’t seem to have followed him there, and for the rest of the day, he lost himself in his work.
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