spn fic: Shout My Name (at heaven's gate) 29/29
Title: Shout My Name (at heaven's gate)
Author: roxymissrose
Pairings/Characters: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word Count: 3190
Summary: Anno Domini 1951, fifty years after the failed Fertility experiments, the world still deals (somewhat successfully) with the mutations the experiments brought. With the advent of successful mechanical wombs, and a resurgence of female fertility, Carriers finally won full civil rights, and a new type of slavery was abolished. Still, in many small towns and rural parts of America, in isolated communities, carriers were still viewed with suspicion, distaste, or horror.
This is the world Jared finds himself having to navigate.
All chapters at AO3
Jared jumped over a box that was sitting right in the doorway-Jensen’s way of reminding himself to take the donations out to his car, but somehow he'd managed to go around the box and out the door, totally forgetting it. Jared huffed. It wasn’t a big deal, and he could put the box in his truck. It was just...he shook his head and laughed. It was what it was.
He pulled his coat off and slipped out of his boots, hanging his coat on a wall hook over the shoe bench, then sliding his boots under the bench. He pulled his bag off his shoulder and let go a relieved breath. He was going to have to look into the newest model of mincomp, the one that was supposed to be no thicker than a folded Nice Times. That’d be really nice. Between his sketchbook, his mincomp, his wallet, his life necessities-which they were, and not vanity, no matter what certain unfairly gifted by nature people said; his lips just got really really dry, and so did his hands. He reached inside his bag and pulled out a bright paper bag-it was really good day, and he'd stopped to get something for Jen in celebration of it.
The Cat opened one eye and stared at him from his perch on the back of the couch. Jared smiled softly. The old man was getting a bit beyond leaping off the back to come ransack Jared's pockets anymore. Lately Jensen had been hinting The Cat needed a companion, maybe a bright, fluffy little puppy. Jared wasn’t sure about that, but he certainly enjoyed Jensen's efforts to convince him.
Turning the corner from the foyer, he stopped, taking a moment to soak up the bright sunlight streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows that made up one wall of their brand new living room. He loved this house that Jensen had picked out for them. He never would have imagined owning a home like this; a long, rambling kind of ranch house, all stone and wood and glass, with a patio that wrapped around the entire house. He loved that every room had doors that opened to it, each one gifted with an amazing view. He loved all the shades of green in the woods surrounding their property, and the soothing sound of water rushing and bubbling over rocks in the stream that practically ran through their backyard.
Jared sighed happily before dragging himself from the view, to quickly set up the gift he’d gotten for Jensen in celebration of his new book sale, the third in his Campbell Cousins series. With those books, and the ongoing sales of “Shout My Name”, and Jensen's position of principal of one of Nice’s most prestigious private schools, they were doing better than Jared ever dreamed. In fact, Jared had never imagined anything even close to resembling this life they had. It was miraculous really, seeing as all he’d ever wanted was to tell his stories to whoever would listen, show his art to whoever cared to look.
He smiled, laying the record he’d bought on top of their Hi-Fi. He strolled past The Cat spread out across the couch back, chuffing him under the chin when he lifted his head.
"Oh, I'm honored to be allowed to please your majesty," he chuckled, before fishing between the couch cushions for the remote for their biggest, most exciting purchase yet-he beamed as the Philco Phlat Screen instantly shimmered to life. He flicked through the buttons until he found a station that provided soft music set to scrolling pictures. Jensen, addicted to whatever technology was the newest and shiniest, had been as excited as a toddler on Christmas morning when the Philco had been set up. “Forty inches of clear, unobstructed, perfect television viewing, Jared! Look at this thing!”
"This thing" was mounted on the wall above a stone fireplace, the center of the living room-and apparently, Jensen's world. Jared had the dubious pleasure of being slightly jealous of an appliance.
Jared headed to the kitchen, the night's meal on his mind. Groceries had been delivered and put away by the service they used, so their cabinets held actual choices, not dusty cans of tuna or half-empty jars of peanut butter. The days of them holding out until one of them cracked and went food shopping were over, thank the Lord.
Humming to himself, Jared grabbed a couple of steaks from the fridge, plus the ingredients for a marinade. Not that he planned to grill them-that was Jensen's work, but Jared could proudly say he was capable of getting them grill-ready.
Having put the steaks in their marinade back into the fridge, Jared was feeling lazily content, nibbling on a bit of sweet red pepper and counting down the minutes before Jensen got home. He was reaching for another bit of pepper when he realized the odd noise at the edge of his hearing wasn’t coming from their TV, it was the telephone.
He hurried back out to the living room to take the call; Jensen could be ringing him, or it might be one of the gang-which reminded him, he needed to make sure he got something for Mrs. Kawa’s niece’s graduation party. She was so proud there was now a college graduate in the family. He’d have to check in with Candy too, now Mrs. Kawa’s assistant; she ran the building for her with an iron fist. He’d known those two would hit it off. Candy was just the kind of slightly battered bird Mrs. Kawa was so good at helping…where was the darn thing?
Frowning, he turned over pillows, looked under the couch, and finally found the phone, still ringing, under a stack of trade magazines, school papers, and one of Jensen's t-shirts. He snatched it up, managing to catch whoever it was that didn't seem to know how to hang up a phone. "Hello?"
There was a long silence; Jared impatiently barked, "Hello?" again. He had a lot of things to do and no time right now to deal with flibbity-jibbit fans who’d managed to track down his number, disturbing dinner time-
"Jared?"
He wrinkled his nose, wondering who it was on the line, though the voice sounded somewhat familiar.
"Jared...it's. It's me. Mercy."
He almost-almost-said 'who?' Not out of anger or bitterness, though. For a split second, he honestly had no idea who it was. The thought of receiving a call from Mountain Grove was just not on his list of things that were possible. Jared stood in the middle of his living room, phone pressed to the side of his head, his mouth hanging open in shock.
He heard his sister say, "I wanted to-" and interrupted with, "Are your parents okay? Has…has someone passed? My sympathies if so...but I don't understand why you're calling?"
"Everyone is fine, we just...I read your book, Jared. You were so harsh to us. You didn't...you don’t understand, it was very hard for us too."
"Oh my God," Jared laughed. "I can’t believe that, for a moment, I really thought you'd called to apologize for the beastly, shitty, way you treated me," he said, ignoring the gasp of horror he heard. "But of course not. Well, hell will freeze over before I ever apologize for letting the world know you and your family almost killed me. Hear this: I'm happy, I'm loved, and I want for nothing."
"The Lord will-"
Jared hung up before he heard what the Lord will. The wave of rage that had swept him like a tsunami at the phone call receded, leaving him weak and shaky and afraid he might upchuck. He staggered across the room as the depth of his emotions crashed over him, buffeting him in waves. "Oh my," he muttered and dragged himself over to a soft-cushioned mission chair flanking the fireplace.
"Oh, oh, damn it!" Jared dropped his head in his hands and wept softly, tears flooding his palms. He wasn't crying for the loss of his family, not really. He'd come to terms with that long ago. He supposed it was more frustration than anything else. But still, deep, deep down, there was that lingering sense of loss. He'd had a good childhood, had felt loved, until Thing. Until finding out how impermanent a family’s supposed love could be.
A flash of an image came to mind, of a long, red scarf, faded almost mauve, moldering away in a plastic bag in the back of his closet. Jared rubbed his sleeve roughly over his wet face, shaking his head at himself. Swore he'd finally put it in a donation box-time to let go of things that had no place in his life.
=+=
By the time Jensen came home, Jared had pulled himself together, the steaks were ready for the grill, the coals were perfect, and a couple of potatoes in foil were nestled in with them. He’d talk about the call later. Right now, he just wanted to be with his husband, and to celebrate the coming publication of the newest edition of Paranormal, or as Jen called them, The Adventures of the Entirely-Too-Close-for-Comfort Campbell Cuzzes.
Yeah, Jensen wasn't nearly as funny as he thought he was. Jared snickered, promising himself he'd print out a few sheets of Campbell Cousins fanfiction he'd found, and slip them into Jen's briefcase one fine morning.
"Hey, sweetheart-” he heard from the foyer. “Not you, I’m talking to Jared."
"I’m in the living room, babe, and stop being mean to my little old man, or he’ll piss on your pillow while you’re at work."
Jensen came into the living room, just as Jared dropped the needle onto the brand new record. "Hey, Jen, I think you might like this."
"Oh, he said, distracted from whatever he'd been about to say. "Oh, Ella! Love Is Here To Stay--her latest. Is this for me? What did I do?" Jensen beamed at Jared, snatching up the record's jacket like a little boy grabbing a favorite toy.
"It’s a surprise gift, a celebration. The Campbell boys ride again!"
"Oh terrific, congratulations, baby. I'm so happy for you...” Jensen suddenly stopped, the jacket slipping out of his hand as he stared at the living room wall-Jared turned, following Jensen's gaze.
"Jen? What is it?" Jared reached out and grabbed Jensen’s hand; Jensen pointed at the TV, his face gone pale as milk.
On the large TV screen, there was a fairly recent picture of st. Margaret's, towards the bottom was a banner scrolling over and over, "Scandal in government shelters". The news reader's voice droned on, explaining that a scandal had been uncovered involving some of the free clinics the government supported, the majority were connected to shelters for underage, single mothers, like St. Margaret's…
As they listened, the newsreader went on to horribly describe baby selling operations in which babies were taken from young mothers who were told the baby died. In actuality, some went to rich families who knew full well their new babies were stolen, others went to families who believed they were participating in a legitimate adoption: a fabulously expensive legitimate adoption.
Jared fell to the couch, hands gripping his collar, twisting, twisting, trying to pull in air.
"What?" he gasped in pain, coming back to Jensen forcing his fingers open, loosening his collar. Jared stared up at Jensen, his mouth working but too shocked to produce words.
When he saw that Jared was breathing okay, Jensen dropped onto the couch next to him, his hand warm and solid on Jared's thigh, helping to ground him. "Those people thought the mothers had died? And no one cared. Oh, Jared. I'm so sorry."
Jared blinked. Sorry? Sorry…he was sorry that he'd been lied to. He was sorry that somewhere, some family had been lied to. And he hoped fervently that Jennah Jamella was having a happy life, as happy as his was now. He looked at Jensen, whose face was crumpled with sorrow, his eyes a perfect window to his heart; so full of love, full of concern. Jared reached out to hold Jensen, who Jared felt was suffering this moment so much harder than he was.
Jensen sniffed against Jared's chest, "If there's any justice in this world, every doctor, every nurse, every administrator that was involved will stand for their terrible crimes, every single person who had a hand in this."
Jared reared back from Jensen in horror, blindsided by an awful thought. "But no one at St. Maggies? It's not possible! Not Dr. Adler, or, Mrs. Mond, Mrs. Stern-"
"Oh no, no, absolutely no one at St. Margaret's was involved. Only one doctor, one nurse at your shelter's clinic were involved."
"I know which doctor it was." Jared stated flatly "It was Dr. Natter."
Nodding, Jensen pulled Jared back to him, crushing him in a hug. "We'll get lawyers, we'll offer testimony, or, or whatever you want to do," he said as Jared stiffened.
Did he want to do that? Maybe he just wanted to forget it all. He wasn't sure. Maybe…maybe he should look for her, find some way? He shook his head. He just didn't know what the right thing was.
Jensen just held him, wet cheek smearing against Jared's, muttering into his ear. "Whatever you want to do, sweetheart. Whatever you want."
=+=
It was just a few days before Jared's 30th birthday, and he was torn between turning thirty, and that first step on the downward slide to middle age and finally-finally-being taken seriously as an adult. He pouted slightly, running his hands through somewhat longish hair. Maybe getting a haircut would help?
The phone rang before he could work up a good snit; he rushed over to Jensen's newest purchase, a cordless phone. He hoped it was Addie. Too much time had passed since he'd seen his diner family. And if this was in regards to his birthday party, he wanted her to warn Ralph and Carl that over-the-hill cards or gifts would not be appreciated...a look at the screen on the phone cradle puzzled him; the number was a strange one, but it could be about the most recent Campbell book, An Angel and a Devil Walk Into A Bar. He'd been told to expect calls asking about interviews. He sighed. Really needed to take Jim up on his offer to navigate these waters.
"Hello?"
"I...is this Jared Padalecki?" the person asked, pronouncing Padalecki as if it was some weird, foreign word. Jared almost laughed. It was, wasn't it?
"Jared Ackles," he responded. "But I was Padalecki once upon a time. Who is this?" he asked, trying to place the accent.
"Uhm. So. There's no law in place to deal with what happened to you and me, so I took advantage of that and tracked you down, and your old school? Dorm? Gave me your number, Mrs. Stern, that's star in German, she was so kind-"
Jared was sure that what he was feeling must be a lot like slamming full body into a glacier. He shook so hard he almost dropped the phone. "Who is this?" Jared interrupted the young, rambling, voice. It sounded so familiar, not the tone or accent, but the way they talked. "Who is this?" he asked again, but his shaking hands, his shortened breath, the ice flowing through him told him; he already knew.
"Um, um, you’re my, oh god. My birth parent? I'm Cassandra McDowell, but everyone calls me Cassie, I mean. If you want to. So. Birth parent, that means you had me 14 years ago. I mean, not like you don't know how old I am...oh god, is it okay that I called? I’m so sorry, I just needed to know."
Jared sat heavily onto the floor, everything forgotten in shock at this young voice pouring into his ear. They'd been pretty sure when the news hit, then certain when that monster's records were deciphered. He'd been the only carrier that year, the year he'd given birth and the monster stole, then sold, the child he gave birth to, to strangers. Jared had looked, he and Jensen had looked, but dead end after dead end slowed them to a crawl on that front-but this, this child found them, and seemed very happy about it.
"I have like this really fab life, and my folks are pretty zen about this; they're really outa sight, y'know, for old-I mean, grownups, but. I needed to find you, and hoped that you cared enough to wonder if I was happy, and I hope you are too."
"I am happy these days, thank you. It was hard, but it was a long time ago. I have a good life too, a wonderful husband, a cranky old Methuselah cat and a ridiculous puppy...and I'm so, so glad you're safe and happy, and good. You have no idea what that means to me."
"I read your book, Shout. God, what you went through when you were around my age. It must have been so awful for you.”
Jared shook his head. "It's something I've come to terms with. The past is past." Only here he was, talking with the catalyst for all his trials. Or…his freedom. His thoughts were interrupted by a giggle he could tell even over the phone lines was embarrassed; it made him smile, reminded him of himself.
"I, unh, have another confession. I know you are the Paranormal writer, Sam Winchester."
Jared laughed in shock. "Are you Harriet the Spy?"
"What can I say? I like figuring things out! Oh, but not in a mean way, I just...I'm kind of nosy."
Of course she was. A smiling face flashed before his eyes and for once, Jared was able to think of his little sister without bitterness. "You come by it naturally," he smiled. "I think, if your parents don't mind, we’d love to meet you, my husband and I. There aren't many people to meet on my side, but I can guarantee you a wonderful dad, the best grand-uncle anyone could ask for, and a fabulously odd collection of aunts and uncles who are family in spirit, if not blood."
“Sometimes, it’s the best kind,” she chuckled softly. "I’d love to meet them all, Pop, that sounds great. I mean-oh god, I'm sorry, I just started calling you that in my mind, I don’t mean to overstep-"
"Don't be sorry. I like it very much."
Jared was surprised at how deeply true that was, and the feeling of joy that filled him. It felt like, it felt like sunrise, it felt like magic, it felt like his story had come full circle.
end
Author: roxymissrose
Pairings/Characters: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word Count: 3190
Summary: Anno Domini 1951, fifty years after the failed Fertility experiments, the world still deals (somewhat successfully) with the mutations the experiments brought. With the advent of successful mechanical wombs, and a resurgence of female fertility, Carriers finally won full civil rights, and a new type of slavery was abolished. Still, in many small towns and rural parts of America, in isolated communities, carriers were still viewed with suspicion, distaste, or horror.
This is the world Jared finds himself having to navigate.
All chapters at AO3
Jared jumped over a box that was sitting right in the doorway-Jensen’s way of reminding himself to take the donations out to his car, but somehow he'd managed to go around the box and out the door, totally forgetting it. Jared huffed. It wasn’t a big deal, and he could put the box in his truck. It was just...he shook his head and laughed. It was what it was.
He pulled his coat off and slipped out of his boots, hanging his coat on a wall hook over the shoe bench, then sliding his boots under the bench. He pulled his bag off his shoulder and let go a relieved breath. He was going to have to look into the newest model of mincomp, the one that was supposed to be no thicker than a folded Nice Times. That’d be really nice. Between his sketchbook, his mincomp, his wallet, his life necessities-which they were, and not vanity, no matter what certain unfairly gifted by nature people said; his lips just got really really dry, and so did his hands. He reached inside his bag and pulled out a bright paper bag-it was really good day, and he'd stopped to get something for Jen in celebration of it.
The Cat opened one eye and stared at him from his perch on the back of the couch. Jared smiled softly. The old man was getting a bit beyond leaping off the back to come ransack Jared's pockets anymore. Lately Jensen had been hinting The Cat needed a companion, maybe a bright, fluffy little puppy. Jared wasn’t sure about that, but he certainly enjoyed Jensen's efforts to convince him.
Turning the corner from the foyer, he stopped, taking a moment to soak up the bright sunlight streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows that made up one wall of their brand new living room. He loved this house that Jensen had picked out for them. He never would have imagined owning a home like this; a long, rambling kind of ranch house, all stone and wood and glass, with a patio that wrapped around the entire house. He loved that every room had doors that opened to it, each one gifted with an amazing view. He loved all the shades of green in the woods surrounding their property, and the soothing sound of water rushing and bubbling over rocks in the stream that practically ran through their backyard.
Jared sighed happily before dragging himself from the view, to quickly set up the gift he’d gotten for Jensen in celebration of his new book sale, the third in his Campbell Cousins series. With those books, and the ongoing sales of “Shout My Name”, and Jensen's position of principal of one of Nice’s most prestigious private schools, they were doing better than Jared ever dreamed. In fact, Jared had never imagined anything even close to resembling this life they had. It was miraculous really, seeing as all he’d ever wanted was to tell his stories to whoever would listen, show his art to whoever cared to look.
He smiled, laying the record he’d bought on top of their Hi-Fi. He strolled past The Cat spread out across the couch back, chuffing him under the chin when he lifted his head.
"Oh, I'm honored to be allowed to please your majesty," he chuckled, before fishing between the couch cushions for the remote for their biggest, most exciting purchase yet-he beamed as the Philco Phlat Screen instantly shimmered to life. He flicked through the buttons until he found a station that provided soft music set to scrolling pictures. Jensen, addicted to whatever technology was the newest and shiniest, had been as excited as a toddler on Christmas morning when the Philco had been set up. “Forty inches of clear, unobstructed, perfect television viewing, Jared! Look at this thing!”
"This thing" was mounted on the wall above a stone fireplace, the center of the living room-and apparently, Jensen's world. Jared had the dubious pleasure of being slightly jealous of an appliance.
Jared headed to the kitchen, the night's meal on his mind. Groceries had been delivered and put away by the service they used, so their cabinets held actual choices, not dusty cans of tuna or half-empty jars of peanut butter. The days of them holding out until one of them cracked and went food shopping were over, thank the Lord.
Humming to himself, Jared grabbed a couple of steaks from the fridge, plus the ingredients for a marinade. Not that he planned to grill them-that was Jensen's work, but Jared could proudly say he was capable of getting them grill-ready.
Having put the steaks in their marinade back into the fridge, Jared was feeling lazily content, nibbling on a bit of sweet red pepper and counting down the minutes before Jensen got home. He was reaching for another bit of pepper when he realized the odd noise at the edge of his hearing wasn’t coming from their TV, it was the telephone.
He hurried back out to the living room to take the call; Jensen could be ringing him, or it might be one of the gang-which reminded him, he needed to make sure he got something for Mrs. Kawa’s niece’s graduation party. She was so proud there was now a college graduate in the family. He’d have to check in with Candy too, now Mrs. Kawa’s assistant; she ran the building for her with an iron fist. He’d known those two would hit it off. Candy was just the kind of slightly battered bird Mrs. Kawa was so good at helping…where was the darn thing?
Frowning, he turned over pillows, looked under the couch, and finally found the phone, still ringing, under a stack of trade magazines, school papers, and one of Jensen's t-shirts. He snatched it up, managing to catch whoever it was that didn't seem to know how to hang up a phone. "Hello?"
There was a long silence; Jared impatiently barked, "Hello?" again. He had a lot of things to do and no time right now to deal with flibbity-jibbit fans who’d managed to track down his number, disturbing dinner time-
"Jared?"
He wrinkled his nose, wondering who it was on the line, though the voice sounded somewhat familiar.
"Jared...it's. It's me. Mercy."
He almost-almost-said 'who?' Not out of anger or bitterness, though. For a split second, he honestly had no idea who it was. The thought of receiving a call from Mountain Grove was just not on his list of things that were possible. Jared stood in the middle of his living room, phone pressed to the side of his head, his mouth hanging open in shock.
He heard his sister say, "I wanted to-" and interrupted with, "Are your parents okay? Has…has someone passed? My sympathies if so...but I don't understand why you're calling?"
"Everyone is fine, we just...I read your book, Jared. You were so harsh to us. You didn't...you don’t understand, it was very hard for us too."
"Oh my God," Jared laughed. "I can’t believe that, for a moment, I really thought you'd called to apologize for the beastly, shitty, way you treated me," he said, ignoring the gasp of horror he heard. "But of course not. Well, hell will freeze over before I ever apologize for letting the world know you and your family almost killed me. Hear this: I'm happy, I'm loved, and I want for nothing."
"The Lord will-"
Jared hung up before he heard what the Lord will. The wave of rage that had swept him like a tsunami at the phone call receded, leaving him weak and shaky and afraid he might upchuck. He staggered across the room as the depth of his emotions crashed over him, buffeting him in waves. "Oh my," he muttered and dragged himself over to a soft-cushioned mission chair flanking the fireplace.
"Oh, oh, damn it!" Jared dropped his head in his hands and wept softly, tears flooding his palms. He wasn't crying for the loss of his family, not really. He'd come to terms with that long ago. He supposed it was more frustration than anything else. But still, deep, deep down, there was that lingering sense of loss. He'd had a good childhood, had felt loved, until Thing. Until finding out how impermanent a family’s supposed love could be.
A flash of an image came to mind, of a long, red scarf, faded almost mauve, moldering away in a plastic bag in the back of his closet. Jared rubbed his sleeve roughly over his wet face, shaking his head at himself. Swore he'd finally put it in a donation box-time to let go of things that had no place in his life.
=+=
By the time Jensen came home, Jared had pulled himself together, the steaks were ready for the grill, the coals were perfect, and a couple of potatoes in foil were nestled in with them. He’d talk about the call later. Right now, he just wanted to be with his husband, and to celebrate the coming publication of the newest edition of Paranormal, or as Jen called them, The Adventures of the Entirely-Too-Close-for-Comfort Campbell Cuzzes.
Yeah, Jensen wasn't nearly as funny as he thought he was. Jared snickered, promising himself he'd print out a few sheets of Campbell Cousins fanfiction he'd found, and slip them into Jen's briefcase one fine morning.
"Hey, sweetheart-” he heard from the foyer. “Not you, I’m talking to Jared."
"I’m in the living room, babe, and stop being mean to my little old man, or he’ll piss on your pillow while you’re at work."
Jensen came into the living room, just as Jared dropped the needle onto the brand new record. "Hey, Jen, I think you might like this."
"Oh, he said, distracted from whatever he'd been about to say. "Oh, Ella! Love Is Here To Stay--her latest. Is this for me? What did I do?" Jensen beamed at Jared, snatching up the record's jacket like a little boy grabbing a favorite toy.
"It’s a surprise gift, a celebration. The Campbell boys ride again!"
"Oh terrific, congratulations, baby. I'm so happy for you...” Jensen suddenly stopped, the jacket slipping out of his hand as he stared at the living room wall-Jared turned, following Jensen's gaze.
"Jen? What is it?" Jared reached out and grabbed Jensen’s hand; Jensen pointed at the TV, his face gone pale as milk.
On the large TV screen, there was a fairly recent picture of st. Margaret's, towards the bottom was a banner scrolling over and over, "Scandal in government shelters". The news reader's voice droned on, explaining that a scandal had been uncovered involving some of the free clinics the government supported, the majority were connected to shelters for underage, single mothers, like St. Margaret's…
As they listened, the newsreader went on to horribly describe baby selling operations in which babies were taken from young mothers who were told the baby died. In actuality, some went to rich families who knew full well their new babies were stolen, others went to families who believed they were participating in a legitimate adoption: a fabulously expensive legitimate adoption.
Jared fell to the couch, hands gripping his collar, twisting, twisting, trying to pull in air.
"What?" he gasped in pain, coming back to Jensen forcing his fingers open, loosening his collar. Jared stared up at Jensen, his mouth working but too shocked to produce words.
When he saw that Jared was breathing okay, Jensen dropped onto the couch next to him, his hand warm and solid on Jared's thigh, helping to ground him. "Those people thought the mothers had died? And no one cared. Oh, Jared. I'm so sorry."
Jared blinked. Sorry? Sorry…he was sorry that he'd been lied to. He was sorry that somewhere, some family had been lied to. And he hoped fervently that Jennah Jamella was having a happy life, as happy as his was now. He looked at Jensen, whose face was crumpled with sorrow, his eyes a perfect window to his heart; so full of love, full of concern. Jared reached out to hold Jensen, who Jared felt was suffering this moment so much harder than he was.
Jensen sniffed against Jared's chest, "If there's any justice in this world, every doctor, every nurse, every administrator that was involved will stand for their terrible crimes, every single person who had a hand in this."
Jared reared back from Jensen in horror, blindsided by an awful thought. "But no one at St. Maggies? It's not possible! Not Dr. Adler, or, Mrs. Mond, Mrs. Stern-"
"Oh no, no, absolutely no one at St. Margaret's was involved. Only one doctor, one nurse at your shelter's clinic were involved."
"I know which doctor it was." Jared stated flatly "It was Dr. Natter."
Nodding, Jensen pulled Jared back to him, crushing him in a hug. "We'll get lawyers, we'll offer testimony, or, or whatever you want to do," he said as Jared stiffened.
Did he want to do that? Maybe he just wanted to forget it all. He wasn't sure. Maybe…maybe he should look for her, find some way? He shook his head. He just didn't know what the right thing was.
Jensen just held him, wet cheek smearing against Jared's, muttering into his ear. "Whatever you want to do, sweetheart. Whatever you want."
=+=
It was just a few days before Jared's 30th birthday, and he was torn between turning thirty, and that first step on the downward slide to middle age and finally-finally-being taken seriously as an adult. He pouted slightly, running his hands through somewhat longish hair. Maybe getting a haircut would help?
The phone rang before he could work up a good snit; he rushed over to Jensen's newest purchase, a cordless phone. He hoped it was Addie. Too much time had passed since he'd seen his diner family. And if this was in regards to his birthday party, he wanted her to warn Ralph and Carl that over-the-hill cards or gifts would not be appreciated...a look at the screen on the phone cradle puzzled him; the number was a strange one, but it could be about the most recent Campbell book, An Angel and a Devil Walk Into A Bar. He'd been told to expect calls asking about interviews. He sighed. Really needed to take Jim up on his offer to navigate these waters.
"Hello?"
"I...is this Jared Padalecki?" the person asked, pronouncing Padalecki as if it was some weird, foreign word. Jared almost laughed. It was, wasn't it?
"Jared Ackles," he responded. "But I was Padalecki once upon a time. Who is this?" he asked, trying to place the accent.
"Uhm. So. There's no law in place to deal with what happened to you and me, so I took advantage of that and tracked you down, and your old school? Dorm? Gave me your number, Mrs. Stern, that's star in German, she was so kind-"
Jared was sure that what he was feeling must be a lot like slamming full body into a glacier. He shook so hard he almost dropped the phone. "Who is this?" Jared interrupted the young, rambling, voice. It sounded so familiar, not the tone or accent, but the way they talked. "Who is this?" he asked again, but his shaking hands, his shortened breath, the ice flowing through him told him; he already knew.
"Um, um, you’re my, oh god. My birth parent? I'm Cassandra McDowell, but everyone calls me Cassie, I mean. If you want to. So. Birth parent, that means you had me 14 years ago. I mean, not like you don't know how old I am...oh god, is it okay that I called? I’m so sorry, I just needed to know."
Jared sat heavily onto the floor, everything forgotten in shock at this young voice pouring into his ear. They'd been pretty sure when the news hit, then certain when that monster's records were deciphered. He'd been the only carrier that year, the year he'd given birth and the monster stole, then sold, the child he gave birth to, to strangers. Jared had looked, he and Jensen had looked, but dead end after dead end slowed them to a crawl on that front-but this, this child found them, and seemed very happy about it.
"I have like this really fab life, and my folks are pretty zen about this; they're really outa sight, y'know, for old-I mean, grownups, but. I needed to find you, and hoped that you cared enough to wonder if I was happy, and I hope you are too."
"I am happy these days, thank you. It was hard, but it was a long time ago. I have a good life too, a wonderful husband, a cranky old Methuselah cat and a ridiculous puppy...and I'm so, so glad you're safe and happy, and good. You have no idea what that means to me."
"I read your book, Shout. God, what you went through when you were around my age. It must have been so awful for you.”
Jared shook his head. "It's something I've come to terms with. The past is past." Only here he was, talking with the catalyst for all his trials. Or…his freedom. His thoughts were interrupted by a giggle he could tell even over the phone lines was embarrassed; it made him smile, reminded him of himself.
"I, unh, have another confession. I know you are the Paranormal writer, Sam Winchester."
Jared laughed in shock. "Are you Harriet the Spy?"
"What can I say? I like figuring things out! Oh, but not in a mean way, I just...I'm kind of nosy."
Of course she was. A smiling face flashed before his eyes and for once, Jared was able to think of his little sister without bitterness. "You come by it naturally," he smiled. "I think, if your parents don't mind, we’d love to meet you, my husband and I. There aren't many people to meet on my side, but I can guarantee you a wonderful dad, the best grand-uncle anyone could ask for, and a fabulously odd collection of aunts and uncles who are family in spirit, if not blood."
“Sometimes, it’s the best kind,” she chuckled softly. "I’d love to meet them all, Pop, that sounds great. I mean-oh god, I'm sorry, I just started calling you that in my mind, I don’t mean to overstep-"
"Don't be sorry. I like it very much."
Jared was surprised at how deeply true that was, and the feeling of joy that filled him. It felt like, it felt like sunrise, it felt like magic, it felt like his story had come full circle.
end