J2 Fic. Bars At My Window 5/?
Title: Bars At My Window
Author: Blueeyedliz
Summary: Jared Padalecki, guilty of auto theft, is put away in San Quentin. Jensen Ackles takes it upon himself to instruct the younger man in the brutal protocol of San Quentin and the strategies essential for survival. A friendship born of mutual need ends up becoming much more and one thing they’ll come to learn is that prison is no place for a love story.
Rating: NC/17
Warning, A/N & Disclaimer for this part: As Part One. Please be sure to read the warnings carefully before reading. Massive Padalecki sized thanks yous to the awesome Heatherofnight, Scarlettraven9 and Amtamburo .
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Part 5
For the next few days Jensen doesn’t speak to Jared. He doesn’t even try to speak to Jared, although the kid is still living only three cells away. He doesn’t know what to think or feel, doesn’t even want to try and put a name to the constant aching sensation in his chest. But when there’s a low cough-like a guy clearing his throat-at the entrance to his cell, announcing the arrival of someone with a hell of a lot more manners than most of his crew. Half of him wants it to be Jared while the other half acutely hopes that it isn’t.
A head full of curly grey hair set atop blue uniformed shoulders appears through the door and Jensen sits up on his cot. Lieutenant Hornby is a familiar sight in his cell, they’re not quite friends but their relationship is as close to friendship as a con and a guard can ever hope to get. The Lieutenant is a good man who has always had a lot of time for Jensen, always found him to be the kind of kid who doesn’t go around looking for trouble but rather the kind who ends up with trouble finding him.
“Been a long time but I’ve been meaning to swing by.” The Lieutenant says with a smile worn wide across his craggy face as he pushes the cell door closed gently behind him. “I had a meeting with Jared Padalecki this morning.”
Jensen’s head jerks upwards. Suddenly extremely interested he rolls up the skin magazine he’s been idly flicking through and shoves it out of sight. “Oh, yeah?” He asks in the most casual manner he can successfully achieve, biting back the temptation to grab Lieutenant Hornby by both shoulders to try shaking the information right out of him.
“Jared’s asked to be moved back to his old cell in North Block. Says he’s been having some trouble with Larry.”
Jensen rolls his eyes, nice cover story. Larry is a white-haired con with a string of paedophile convictions on his record. He’s a mean old bastard and short on friends. If truth be told Jensen has noticed Larry giving Jared the odd hungry look but the old fella hasn’t acted on his interest chiefly because there isn’t a con in the East cellhouse who doesn’t know by now that Jared is under Jensen’s protection. Still, Jared is playing it smart if he’s using Larry as an excuse to get himself moved. Well if that’s what you really want, Polish.
“Yeah.” Jensen nods with conviction and really, it’s a freakin’ Oscar winning performance or a Globe nomination at least. “Larry’s been sniffing around him like a bitch on heat.”
“Jensen, I know you’ve got something going on with that kid but after what happened with Jeff Morgan I’ve got to take Jared’s request seriously. I’m going to agree to his move and if you want my advice you’ll use this opportunity to break away from him. He’s got a red mark on his file which has had Warden Kripke spitting feathers...and Jensen, you don’t need this shit either. Kripke’s been looking for an excuse to sling your ass on a bus to Folsom so that you’re out of his prison and out of his hair.”
“The warden really going to kick me out? Hell, folks been doing that to me my whole damn life.”
“Look, I’m trying to help you. Cut your ties with this kid and serve your time peaceably or you’ll be serving it some place else. And I can guarantee you won’t have the guards at Folsom sitting in your pocket like you do here and you won’t have your buddies around to watch your back either.”
Jensen worries his bottom lip, sometimes the Lieutenant is too clever for his own good and Jensen can’t deny the man speaks a lot of sense. Casting Jared aside is going to be a damn near impossible task but there’s something Jensen has to do first. First he needs to be certain that Jared is positive this is what he wants and then, maybe actually hearing Jared say ‘goodbye’ will make it easier for Jensen to let go.
-0-
Jensen finds Jared in his cell, Mike is there too busily helping to pack Jared’s stuff onto a flat-bedded iron-wheeled cart. “So, you’re really fine with spending the next four and a half years trying to keep the hell out of each-other’s way?” When Jared stands motionless, staring dumbly down at a book in his hands, Jensen continues. “You can try to pretend you don’t care Jared but I know you. I care and I know you fucking well care too.”
Jared doesn’t speak because he knows that saying he doesn’t want to be with Jensen will taste like a lie on his tongue. Mike steps forward, eyes plastered with heavy mascara flashing dangerously. “Jenny baby, I’m going to be good and ask you nicely this once to leave Jared alone. Please.”
Jared drops his book into a box, hazel eyes still burning a hole into the floor. “Go ahead then, run away, Jare. I hope you’ll be real happy.” Jensen kicks over one of the boxes and walks straight out of the cell.
“Oh boy, that went well.” Mike says running a long fingernail over his lips thoughtfully. “Jen...as long as I’ve known him he’s been a closed book, you know? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as wide open as that.” When Mike finally glances over at Jared who has turned his back to the door, he can see that Jared’s shoulders are shuddering lightly. Mike puts a hand on the back of Jared’s neck, squeezes it gently. “Sweetmeat, hush. Don’t let a hoodlum like Jensen Ackles break your heart.”
And the touch of comforting fingers against his skin is more or less the permission Jared has been waiting for and he finally lets the tears which have been threatening to fall for days go free.
-0-
Time goes by slowly without the distraction of love to speed their days along. A month passes at a snails pace. Jared and Jensen share the same prison but they go to great effort to ensure they don’t cross each-other’s paths. Jensen sometimes sees Jared sitting at the far end of the mess hall eating his breakfast with Mike and Jared sometimes watches Jensen and his crew circling the exercise yard but they don’t exchange eye contact let alone two words.
It’s one such morning in early November when the land outside the cellhouse windows is covered with a light fog. The edge of the shore, just twenty yards away, is almost completely invisible. As has become their routine, Jared takes his breakfast with Mike in the mess hall before they head out to the lower yard for some air before it starts to fill with the bustle of a few hundred cons. No sooner has Jared set foot outside when he sees the barely visible but yet instantly recognizable figure of Jensen walking across the yard with what appears to be Tommy and Chris striding out alongside him. Like always, Jared finds it difficult to tear his gaze away.
There had been rumours flying around the mess hall of a worker’s strike and sure enough, there is a crowd of around fifty men standing by the gated entranceway which leads through to the furniture factory. A place where Jared himself spent a rough couple of weeks working when he first arrived at San Quentin and before he learned that one of the most important things about getting through your time is where you choose to work.
The crowd have clearly been huddled there together for quite some time and when Jensen finally disappears from view, Jared turns his full attention to the mob and begins to notice that the cluster of men is growing steadily larger. Their voices are becoming louder, hot-tempered words carrying effortlessly on the mild breeze. Most of the faces are black but there are a few white faces there. Jared puts a hand on Mike’s arm and tugs at his sleeve. “Mike, check it out.”
Some of the men hurrying over to join the strike are carrying lengths of pole and one or two have baseball bats. Things are starting to look decidedly dicey. The atmosphere in the yard is practically crackling with tension, the guards are patently anxious because angry cons are extremely volatile at best. “Nobody’s going to work today.” Mike states grimly.
There’s one tall black man at the front of the strikers, exhorting his fellow workers. “Come on, we’re all in this together. We ain’t gonna stand for being treat like fuckin’ dawgs no more.” The men blocking the gate shout out their agreement, voices rising together in a cacophony of outrage when a balding tubby Chicano repeatedly tries to get through the blockade. The man manages to get through the first rank of strikers and then disappears into the throng. Barely a minute passes before Jared hears the sound of ruthless blows being delivered followed by a stomach-churning muffled scream.
“Oh God, they’re killing him.” Jared whispers as Mike’s hand closes around his upper-arm and starts to pull him away from the uproar.
“Jay, we need to get out of...” Mike’s words are abruptly cut short as something catches his eye and Jared looks up, follows Mike’s gaze in time to see the strike crowd being split right down the middle by a formation of guards in helmets with Plexiglas masks swinging long clubs.
Jared watches frozen in horror as a man, who isn’t even one of the strikers, gets hit in the face. Blood spurts from his nose and covers his hands as he attempts to shield himself from further blows. Mike’s voice is swiftly all the more insistent. “Jared! Let’s go!”
Suddenly the crowd of panicked strikers start running towards where Jared and Mike are standing. The line of guards is advancing, clubs raised and hitting out at the backs of the men who are making up the rear of the crowd. Jared starts to run, quickly losing Mike in the midst of the chaos and it’s then that the yard echoes with the retort of rifle fire, followed by the softer sound of a firearm, either a shotgun or a tear-gas gun using a shotgun charge.
The one thousand men in the yard go silent before dropping onto their bellies in an attempt to avoid being hit. The tall black man, who Jared instantly recognizes as the strike leader from before is still standing and pulling some of his comrades to their feet. “Get up. Don’t let these fuckers win.”
There are more shots and Jared screws his eyes closed as the black guy takes a bullet in the chest and instantly goes down. Seeing their friend killed seems to light the fuse amongst the strikers and without warning, they’re all back on their feet again and surging towards the guards in riot gear.
Jared starts to get to his feet, looking around desperately for Mike and startles when a hollow thwump sound announces that a tear-gas launcher has just deployed a grenade. The grenade falls deep in the middle of the crowd and they part even further when it explodes, giving off noxious fumes. Jared hurries to stand up, to avoid being trampled and is buffeted along by the surge of bodies rushing to get as far away from the grenade as possible.
Somewhere in amongst all of his own panic and the deafening shouts of the angry scared men around him, Jared thinks of Jensen and hopes to God he’s safe.
The fumes begin to reach Jared’s nose and soon his eyes are watering, badly enough that he can barely see. For one terrible moment he feels like he’s going to fall, his eyes are stinging and he’s coughing so hard that drawing breath is becoming a struggle. He’s drowning in the churning, screaming crowd. Just when he can feel his legs beginning to give way, an arm wraps around his waist and start pulling him along. Jared’s so messed up he doesn’t fight it, he just let’s himself be dragged.
The next thing Jared knows, he’s laid out on an area of dewy grass and someone is pouring water from a plastic bottle over his face. Even with the cold water, it still feels to Jared as though his skin is burning away, leaving behind only the pearly white bone of his skull. “Try to stay still, I know it hurts.”
Jared pauses from clawing at his eyes when he hears the voice, Jensen’s voice. The water bottle is pressed against his lips and Jared swallows a couple of mouthfuls down, grateful for the chance to douse the fire in his throat. He rubs at his eyes again with closed fists and this time, when he moves his hands away, he sees the blurred outline of Jensen leaning over him.
“Jensen?” Jared manages in-between bouts of coughing.
“What the hell we’re you doing in the center of all that? You decide to become a riot ring-leader or something?”
“Or something.” Jared mutters taking the bottle again and rinsing his mouth a couple of times before spitting the water out into the dirt. “Jesus, Jen. I was worried about you.”
“Worried about me? I wasn’t the one trying to play ‘catch the tear-gas grenade.’ You’re lucky I found you when I did.”
“Lucky you found me? You were trying to find me?” Jared asks quietly. His vision is still fuzzy, like he’s looking at the world through a frosted glass windowpane but he can see Jensen more clearly now and the sight of him almost steals Jared’s breath away with honest to God relief.
Jared doesn’t let Jensen answer instead he pushes himself up and kisses Jensen’s lips, frantic and needy. Jensen returns the kiss, his tongue licking at Jared’s mouth and it’s just as frantic, just as needy. The kiss ends in an embrace which squeezes them together hard enough to make their ribs creak. Jared’s breath comes in warm gasps against Jensen’s neck, hands clutching tightly at the front of Jensen’s powder blue prison issue jacket. “Jen, I thought I could be here without being with you. I couldn’t have been more wrong.”
“Lockup! Mandatory lockup!” The loud speaker blares and Jared pulls away regretfully.
“The redneck bulls are clubbing the hell out of everyone they can get near. I’m going to take you back to your cell and then head over to mine in East Block.” Jensen says. His eyes look painfully sore, red-rimmed and swollen from the effects of the gas. He seems shell-shocked and Jared’s not sure if it’s their kiss or the riot which has left Jensen dazed.
“No, you need to get to your own block.”
“There’s no way, no way, I’m leaving you.” Jensen takes Jared’s hand and heaves him up to his feet, he pulls Jared’s arm around his shoulders even though Jared’s pretty sure he could walk unaided. The pain in his eyes has abated to an uncomfortable throbbing and his vision is improving by the second but he’s still shaky and he’s thankful then for the feel of Jensen’s hard body supporting him.
Jensen’s grip on Jared tightens as they make their way towards the dominating white brick of the North cellhouse. The majority of the convicts are quiet now, spread across the baseball field in small groups. Some convicts have pulled the bleachers from the third-base dugout and have started a fire but most of them are in left field, the furthest point from the armed guards. More guards with weapons are hurrying along the skyline and around three dozen are positioned for a clear shot.
“Attention! All inmates will gather in the left-field.” The tinny sound of the loud speaker shatters the quiet and under the eyes of the armed guards the convicts start to form lines, their chattering voices combining to form a low hum of general disquiet. Jared and Jensen join the lines, still holding onto each-other.
Eventually armed guards enter the baseball field and start leading the convicts towards the cells. “I’m sorry, Jen.”
Jensen catches his eye and manages to squeeze Jared’s hand in his before the East cellhouse convicts are separated and lead away in a different direction.
Jared watches Jensen go with a fraught expression, they’re likely to be stuck in lockdown for a week at the very least. In file, he trudges on unsteady legs towards his cellhouse thinking only of green eyes and full lips and curses under his breath for the precious time together they’ve already wasted.
-0-
This wasn’t my favorite chapter to write so I really hope it worked for you guys? Part Six.