J2 Fic. Bars At My Window 7/8
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. Thanks, hugs and cookies to the awesome Heatherofnight, Scarlettraven9 and Amtamburo.I don't like to do this because it's like showing you the final scene in a movie the second you sit down in your cinema seat...but I don't like upsetting anyone either...please note this chapter contains character death...not J2.
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
Part Seven.
Cool autumn turns to crisp winter and it isn’t plain sailing, life in prison never is. Christmas comes with little fanfare. They exchange meagre presents wrapped in pages torn out of a graffiti covered gay porn magazine Jared had found tucked under Mike’s mattress. And maybe Jared finds it hilarious to draw a little arrow pointing to one butt-naked guy with a huge erection and label him Jenny (and if he blames Mike, well, what Jensen doesn’t know....) For lunch they eat dried out slices of turkey in a mess hall decorated with paper streamers.
Christmas Day is always tense, inmates growing more anxious than ever to be on the outside and that afternoon the cellblocks are noisier than usual with cons exchanging shouted conversations from their cells. After covering Jared’s face with hasty kisses Jensen goes off to find Tommy, mumbling something about getting first taste of a batch of homebrew Tommy had hidden away. The hooch taste test invite had been extended to Jared of course but Jared declined because he knows exactly what goes into that shit and quite honestly, alcohol made using orange juice concentrate and dinner rolls for their yeast content isn’t on his list of things he wants to try anytime soon.
Instead Jared lies on his bunk staring at the ‘sanctioned’ package from his dad which had arrived only the day before. The censors have stuck their grubby paws all over it so there isn't a great deal left inside the small brown parcel. The letter from his dad made mention of some stamps which he had enclosed-a gentle hint on his dad's part that Jared should write home more often-but the stamps had been removed as contraband. In the end Jared had been left with four candy canes and several photographs which rekindled memories of a Christmas Day in Texas, six years ago.
Jared reaches into the box and pulls out one of the Polaroids-a candid shot of his parents hugging, both ankle deep in tinsel and laughing as they decorate their tree-and not for the first time since the package arrived he turns the photograph over and reads the pencil message scribbled on the back in his dad's messy handwriting. We've been talking and mom is moving back home.
A few months ago, before San Quentin, Jared would have been over the moon about his parents getting back together but now, now he doesn't know what to feel. He's happy for them, yes but the emotion barely seems to scratch the surface. His life is so different at present that everything on the outside seems like a soap opera, a life he isn’t part of, a life he can't have. Perhaps it's because he knows that if he lets himself feel anything about the outside world too deeply, he won't be able to rein it back in again.
Jared finally slips the photograph back into the box with the others and picks up the paperback novel which had been Jensen’s gift to him, a copy of “The Count of Monte Cristo.” It had made him laugh when he first unwrapped the present because subtlety isn’t Jensen’s strong point but his laughter had been weaved with a bitter cord of unhappiness; the book wasn’t given as a joke.
Jensen has raised the issue of escaping several times, only to be shot down in flames by Jared’s pleas for him to leave the subject well alone. Being inside isn’t easy. It’s actually downright fucking horrendous on so many levels but running from the law, losing Jensen in some gung-ho hail of bullets...Jared can’t stomach even thinking about it for a second. He seen a con take a bullet now, heard that hollow wet slick sound which belongs solely to a bullet tearing into flesh. Imagining Jensen in that scenario is more than enough to make Jared want to lose his lunch.
Jared drops the book and then, filled with a sudden pressing need to do something that doesn’t involve thinking about Jensen being shot-and to empty his bladder-he clambers up off his bunk to take a leak. The urinal is by the door and he’s literally standing there, dick in hand when Mike sticks his head in the cell, unashamedly ogling. “Jesus, Mike, a little privacy here, come on...”
Mike raises an eyebrow but doesn’t go anywhere, in fact he leans over for a closer inspection. Today he’s wearing pale blue eye-shadow with thick eyeliner, he bats his curled lashes for added effect. “Hey Jay, looks like that rumour about guys with big hands really is true. Lover boy’s a lucky fella, although I bet he’s packing....”
“Mike!” Jared’s cheeks turn pink at the mention of Jensen and he zips his fly up quick enough to trap skin, sucking in a sharp hiss of air through his teeth. “Fuck! Forget it, I can’t even go now. I’m gonna take a shower.” Jared scowls when Mike’s brows lift again and he stabs an accusing finger at Mike’s chest, punctuating each word with a sharp prod. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.”
The showers are communal; East Block has two large showers rooms, each with ten showerheads. Jared prefers to shower at the end of the day, not by choice because he used to love taking a morning shower in the multi-jet power shower he had in his ensuite back home but the shower blocks are less likely to be busy later in the day. All the same, Jared likes to try to get in and out as fast as possible.
Jared hits the showers at double-speed as usual. He’s just washing a thick lather of soap from his hair when a hand touches his ass and he freezes, every inch of him going ice-cold as his stomach does an uncomfortable roll. Instinctively he swings his arm around and knocks the hand away and holy shit, the guy the hand belongs to is one gigantic son of a bitch, some Mexican dude Jared doesn’t recognize and one who looks like a three hundred pound grizzly on steroids.
“Poncho, Jared’s already got a jocker. Man, don’t try anything.” Jared looks over the guy’s-Poncho’s-shoulder and sees Earl Donaldson watching them uneasily. Earl’s a pretty stand-up fella and Jared likes him fine enough; Earl also has the benefit of knowing Jared’s position in Jensen’s crew whereas Poncho clearly does not.
“I don’t care who your daddy is, I want a play from you kid. I’ve been on the outside for awhile so call it a welcome home present.” Poncho steps closer, hot sour breath hitting Jared’s face and Jared curls his lip, shifts away until his back is pressed against the cold shower room wall.
“No, you must be fucking crazy.” Jared states as brazenly as he can manage but his hands are quick to reach for his towel and tie the flimsy material tightly around his waist. Poncho’s eyes are rolling and hard realization slams into Jared then that Poncho is loaded on something, probably some smuggled in narcotics cut with God only knows what. Earl hurriedly ducks out of the shower room and Jared digs his fingers into the tiled wall behind him. He’s on his own.
“You’re so pretty, you make my dick as hard as Chinese arithmetic. I don’t wanna have to beat you up...” Poncho’s words are slurring, vowels drawn out and lingered on. He’s wavering on his feet like he's standing on the bow of a ship during a storm. With a sudden movement, which belies his doped-up condition, Poncho makes a grab for the younger man. He pulls him close so that Jared’s back is against his chest and tightens a beefy forearm across Jared’s neck, restricting his air supply. “Don’t fight me baby boy, I'll fuck you up so bad even your mommy won't recognize you.”
Jared clenches his teeth and swings his elbow back so hard it disappears, burrowing into the folds of Poncho’s huge stomach. It has the desired effect, Poncho’s arm instantly drops away from Jared’s neck. As the huge Mexican bends over gasping, Jared makes a run for the exit. Poncho is quick to react, his giant fist catches the side of Jared’s head and sends him sprawling. “You’re a tricky little bitch.”
The blow leaves Jared’s head swimming, all he sees is a fleeting glint as light catches on an object in the other man’s curled fist and Poncho brings his hand down in an abrupt swing.
A sudden explosion of pain blooms across Jared’s left cheek. He clutches at his face and his hands come away bloody.
-0-
Jensen is with Chad when Earl finds him, half-tanked on Tommy's illicit hooch but nothing could sober him up faster than Earl’s warning that Jared's in some pretty deep shit. Both Chad and Jensen set off in a dead run for the North block. By the time they get there Jared is still down, blood covering one-side of his face but in the heat of the moment all Jensen sees is another type of red.
He’s on Poncho before Chad can get one foot in the door, throwing punches with wild abandon. Jensen can’t hear anything except for the surge of blood thundering in his ears and the crack of bones breaking. Poncho is so pumped full of drugs that he’s barely registering any pain and even though his lip is split and there’s blood gushing out of his nose, he doesn’t seem to feel a thing. His bloodied face twists in a grisly Jack O' Lantern grin when he gets a good eyeful of Jensen. “This is your daddy?” Poncho looks down at Jared for an answer, who’s still half-conscious on the floor. Jared's blinking heavily, struggling to stay awake and find some purchase on the slippery floor as he pushes himself up on his elbows. Poncho's eyes quickly find Jensen again, “No. You’re too damn fine to be just a jocker, I’ll fuck you both.”
Jensen is panting, his right hand feels like it's broken but he forces his fingers to curl into a fist and delivers another hard sucker-punch to Poncho’s jaw. Poncho staggers clumsily on his feet but as he rolls with the blow his features light up in amusement. He drives Jensen back against the wall and strokes a hand down the side of Jensen's face, rough callused fingers trace the curve of full pink lips. “Let him go. Let Jared go.” Jensen grits the words out, not even stopping to think about the consequences for himself.
“What would the fun be in that?” Poncho whispers, pressed so close his tongue skims against Jensen's ear. Jensen growls low in his throat and starts to struggle. Poncho turns around in time to see Chad trying to pull Jared to his feet. He ploughs his fist brutally into Jensen’s face causing Jensen’s head to smash against the wall with a sickening thud, hard enough to leave a smear of bright red blood on the white tiles as Jensen slides to the floor in a heap. Poncho's hands are grasping, stretching out to take Jared from Chad’s arms but Chad’s eyes harden. He lays Jared down carefully, steps in front of his friend and raises his fists.
It’s a toothbrush with a razor blade inserted where the bristles should be, a toothbrush of all things but a deadly weapon nevertheless. With a mixture of adrenaline and outrage fuelling him, Chad barely feels the first few cuts until the fourth swipe slices clean through an artery in his neck.
-0-
It's several hours later when Jensen finally comes to in the infirmary. His body feels heavy, weighed down by a mixture of thick bandaging and IV drugs. As his brain fights its way clear a surging bubble of panic rises in his throat and-just when he’s about ready to shout his lungs out for somebody, anybody-he rolls his aching head on the pillow and instantly relaxes. Jared is in the bed next to his, sleeping. Close enough that Jensen could put out a hand and touch him if he wanted to. And God, he really wants to.
It takes Jensen a few more cloudy minutes to realize that there's no sign of Chad in any of the other beds.
Jensen bites back a startled gasp when he finally notices Bad Eye Vasquez standing as quiet and motionless as a statue at the bottom of his bed. Bad Eye is one of the Mexican brotherhood, someone who Jensen often sees out in the yard with a group of Chicanos strumming guitars and singing rancheros. "What the fu-"
"I'm sorry about your friend getting iced for nothing, Chad..." Bad Eye starts to say, pausing mid-sentence when Jensen's expression shifts from confusion into anguish.
"Don't…Don't even say his name." Jensen swallows hard. His eyes are wet but he's not about to give this guy an opportunity to see him cry. Chad didn't die for nothing, he died trying to help Jared. He died for everything Jensen holds dear. Chad’s dead. Chad is dead.
"Listen to me. Poncho is one loco motherfucker. He's been sent to Psych ward, I don't know what they were thinking letting that crazy whackjob out in the first place. He went back to live with his mom and then attacked one of her elderly neighbours over some petty boundary dispute, pushed a pair of gardening shears right through the old dude's chest."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because if there's any retaliation for what happened, things are going to get nasty. Race war nasty." Bad Eye keeps nervously scratching at the scruffy little goatee on his chin as he speaks. Jensen lets out a long shaky breath, he knows how much of a risk Bad Eye is taking by coming to see him. There hasn't been a race war riot in San Quentin for easily a decade but the last one carried a heavy death toll not to mention subsequent years of nervous tension between rival fractions.
Jensen glances over at Jared still lost to sleep, the left side of his pale face is hidden by surgical tape and white gauze. "I'll speak to my boys, they won't do anything if I tell them not to."
"Warden Kripke is going to want to start an investigation into your buddy's death."
"I don't rat." Jensen snaps and Bad Eye nods, he knows Jensen even if it is only by word-of-mouth and he knows it's the truth.
Bad Eye ambles away leaving Jensen to wait for Jared to wake up. Jensen settles back against his pillow and puts a plaster-cast covered hand across his face, trying to halt the stinging in his eyes. He doesn’t know how he’s going to tell Jared that Chad is gone.
-0-
Chapter 8
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. Thanks, hugs and cookies to the awesome Heatherofnight, Scarlettraven9 and Amtamburo.I don't like to do this because it's like showing you the final scene in a movie the second you sit down in your cinema seat...but I don't like upsetting anyone either...please note this chapter contains character death...not J2.
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
Part Seven.
Cool autumn turns to crisp winter and it isn’t plain sailing, life in prison never is. Christmas comes with little fanfare. They exchange meagre presents wrapped in pages torn out of a graffiti covered gay porn magazine Jared had found tucked under Mike’s mattress. And maybe Jared finds it hilarious to draw a little arrow pointing to one butt-naked guy with a huge erection and label him Jenny (and if he blames Mike, well, what Jensen doesn’t know....) For lunch they eat dried out slices of turkey in a mess hall decorated with paper streamers.
Christmas Day is always tense, inmates growing more anxious than ever to be on the outside and that afternoon the cellblocks are noisier than usual with cons exchanging shouted conversations from their cells. After covering Jared’s face with hasty kisses Jensen goes off to find Tommy, mumbling something about getting first taste of a batch of homebrew Tommy had hidden away. The hooch taste test invite had been extended to Jared of course but Jared declined because he knows exactly what goes into that shit and quite honestly, alcohol made using orange juice concentrate and dinner rolls for their yeast content isn’t on his list of things he wants to try anytime soon.
Instead Jared lies on his bunk staring at the ‘sanctioned’ package from his dad which had arrived only the day before. The censors have stuck their grubby paws all over it so there isn't a great deal left inside the small brown parcel. The letter from his dad made mention of some stamps which he had enclosed-a gentle hint on his dad's part that Jared should write home more often-but the stamps had been removed as contraband. In the end Jared had been left with four candy canes and several photographs which rekindled memories of a Christmas Day in Texas, six years ago.
Jared reaches into the box and pulls out one of the Polaroids-a candid shot of his parents hugging, both ankle deep in tinsel and laughing as they decorate their tree-and not for the first time since the package arrived he turns the photograph over and reads the pencil message scribbled on the back in his dad's messy handwriting. We've been talking and mom is moving back home.
A few months ago, before San Quentin, Jared would have been over the moon about his parents getting back together but now, now he doesn't know what to feel. He's happy for them, yes but the emotion barely seems to scratch the surface. His life is so different at present that everything on the outside seems like a soap opera, a life he isn’t part of, a life he can't have. Perhaps it's because he knows that if he lets himself feel anything about the outside world too deeply, he won't be able to rein it back in again.
Jared finally slips the photograph back into the box with the others and picks up the paperback novel which had been Jensen’s gift to him, a copy of “The Count of Monte Cristo.” It had made him laugh when he first unwrapped the present because subtlety isn’t Jensen’s strong point but his laughter had been weaved with a bitter cord of unhappiness; the book wasn’t given as a joke.
Jensen has raised the issue of escaping several times, only to be shot down in flames by Jared’s pleas for him to leave the subject well alone. Being inside isn’t easy. It’s actually downright fucking horrendous on so many levels but running from the law, losing Jensen in some gung-ho hail of bullets...Jared can’t stomach even thinking about it for a second. He seen a con take a bullet now, heard that hollow wet slick sound which belongs solely to a bullet tearing into flesh. Imagining Jensen in that scenario is more than enough to make Jared want to lose his lunch.
Jared drops the book and then, filled with a sudden pressing need to do something that doesn’t involve thinking about Jensen being shot-and to empty his bladder-he clambers up off his bunk to take a leak. The urinal is by the door and he’s literally standing there, dick in hand when Mike sticks his head in the cell, unashamedly ogling. “Jesus, Mike, a little privacy here, come on...”
Mike raises an eyebrow but doesn’t go anywhere, in fact he leans over for a closer inspection. Today he’s wearing pale blue eye-shadow with thick eyeliner, he bats his curled lashes for added effect. “Hey Jay, looks like that rumour about guys with big hands really is true. Lover boy’s a lucky fella, although I bet he’s packing....”
“Mike!” Jared’s cheeks turn pink at the mention of Jensen and he zips his fly up quick enough to trap skin, sucking in a sharp hiss of air through his teeth. “Fuck! Forget it, I can’t even go now. I’m gonna take a shower.” Jared scowls when Mike’s brows lift again and he stabs an accusing finger at Mike’s chest, punctuating each word with a sharp prod. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.”
The showers are communal; East Block has two large showers rooms, each with ten showerheads. Jared prefers to shower at the end of the day, not by choice because he used to love taking a morning shower in the multi-jet power shower he had in his ensuite back home but the shower blocks are less likely to be busy later in the day. All the same, Jared likes to try to get in and out as fast as possible.
Jared hits the showers at double-speed as usual. He’s just washing a thick lather of soap from his hair when a hand touches his ass and he freezes, every inch of him going ice-cold as his stomach does an uncomfortable roll. Instinctively he swings his arm around and knocks the hand away and holy shit, the guy the hand belongs to is one gigantic son of a bitch, some Mexican dude Jared doesn’t recognize and one who looks like a three hundred pound grizzly on steroids.
“Poncho, Jared’s already got a jocker. Man, don’t try anything.” Jared looks over the guy’s-Poncho’s-shoulder and sees Earl Donaldson watching them uneasily. Earl’s a pretty stand-up fella and Jared likes him fine enough; Earl also has the benefit of knowing Jared’s position in Jensen’s crew whereas Poncho clearly does not.
“I don’t care who your daddy is, I want a play from you kid. I’ve been on the outside for awhile so call it a welcome home present.” Poncho steps closer, hot sour breath hitting Jared’s face and Jared curls his lip, shifts away until his back is pressed against the cold shower room wall.
“No, you must be fucking crazy.” Jared states as brazenly as he can manage but his hands are quick to reach for his towel and tie the flimsy material tightly around his waist. Poncho’s eyes are rolling and hard realization slams into Jared then that Poncho is loaded on something, probably some smuggled in narcotics cut with God only knows what. Earl hurriedly ducks out of the shower room and Jared digs his fingers into the tiled wall behind him. He’s on his own.
“You’re so pretty, you make my dick as hard as Chinese arithmetic. I don’t wanna have to beat you up...” Poncho’s words are slurring, vowels drawn out and lingered on. He’s wavering on his feet like he's standing on the bow of a ship during a storm. With a sudden movement, which belies his doped-up condition, Poncho makes a grab for the younger man. He pulls him close so that Jared’s back is against his chest and tightens a beefy forearm across Jared’s neck, restricting his air supply. “Don’t fight me baby boy, I'll fuck you up so bad even your mommy won't recognize you.”
Jared clenches his teeth and swings his elbow back so hard it disappears, burrowing into the folds of Poncho’s huge stomach. It has the desired effect, Poncho’s arm instantly drops away from Jared’s neck. As the huge Mexican bends over gasping, Jared makes a run for the exit. Poncho is quick to react, his giant fist catches the side of Jared’s head and sends him sprawling. “You’re a tricky little bitch.”
The blow leaves Jared’s head swimming, all he sees is a fleeting glint as light catches on an object in the other man’s curled fist and Poncho brings his hand down in an abrupt swing.
A sudden explosion of pain blooms across Jared’s left cheek. He clutches at his face and his hands come away bloody.
-0-
Jensen is with Chad when Earl finds him, half-tanked on Tommy's illicit hooch but nothing could sober him up faster than Earl’s warning that Jared's in some pretty deep shit. Both Chad and Jensen set off in a dead run for the North block. By the time they get there Jared is still down, blood covering one-side of his face but in the heat of the moment all Jensen sees is another type of red.
He’s on Poncho before Chad can get one foot in the door, throwing punches with wild abandon. Jensen can’t hear anything except for the surge of blood thundering in his ears and the crack of bones breaking. Poncho is so pumped full of drugs that he’s barely registering any pain and even though his lip is split and there’s blood gushing out of his nose, he doesn’t seem to feel a thing. His bloodied face twists in a grisly Jack O' Lantern grin when he gets a good eyeful of Jensen. “This is your daddy?” Poncho looks down at Jared for an answer, who’s still half-conscious on the floor. Jared's blinking heavily, struggling to stay awake and find some purchase on the slippery floor as he pushes himself up on his elbows. Poncho's eyes quickly find Jensen again, “No. You’re too damn fine to be just a jocker, I’ll fuck you both.”
Jensen is panting, his right hand feels like it's broken but he forces his fingers to curl into a fist and delivers another hard sucker-punch to Poncho’s jaw. Poncho staggers clumsily on his feet but as he rolls with the blow his features light up in amusement. He drives Jensen back against the wall and strokes a hand down the side of Jensen's face, rough callused fingers trace the curve of full pink lips. “Let him go. Let Jared go.” Jensen grits the words out, not even stopping to think about the consequences for himself.
“What would the fun be in that?” Poncho whispers, pressed so close his tongue skims against Jensen's ear. Jensen growls low in his throat and starts to struggle. Poncho turns around in time to see Chad trying to pull Jared to his feet. He ploughs his fist brutally into Jensen’s face causing Jensen’s head to smash against the wall with a sickening thud, hard enough to leave a smear of bright red blood on the white tiles as Jensen slides to the floor in a heap. Poncho's hands are grasping, stretching out to take Jared from Chad’s arms but Chad’s eyes harden. He lays Jared down carefully, steps in front of his friend and raises his fists.
It’s a toothbrush with a razor blade inserted where the bristles should be, a toothbrush of all things but a deadly weapon nevertheless. With a mixture of adrenaline and outrage fuelling him, Chad barely feels the first few cuts until the fourth swipe slices clean through an artery in his neck.
-0-
It's several hours later when Jensen finally comes to in the infirmary. His body feels heavy, weighed down by a mixture of thick bandaging and IV drugs. As his brain fights its way clear a surging bubble of panic rises in his throat and-just when he’s about ready to shout his lungs out for somebody, anybody-he rolls his aching head on the pillow and instantly relaxes. Jared is in the bed next to his, sleeping. Close enough that Jensen could put out a hand and touch him if he wanted to. And God, he really wants to.
It takes Jensen a few more cloudy minutes to realize that there's no sign of Chad in any of the other beds.
Jensen bites back a startled gasp when he finally notices Bad Eye Vasquez standing as quiet and motionless as a statue at the bottom of his bed. Bad Eye is one of the Mexican brotherhood, someone who Jensen often sees out in the yard with a group of Chicanos strumming guitars and singing rancheros. "What the fu-"
"I'm sorry about your friend getting iced for nothing, Chad..." Bad Eye starts to say, pausing mid-sentence when Jensen's expression shifts from confusion into anguish.
"Don't…Don't even say his name." Jensen swallows hard. His eyes are wet but he's not about to give this guy an opportunity to see him cry. Chad didn't die for nothing, he died trying to help Jared. He died for everything Jensen holds dear. Chad’s dead. Chad is dead.
"Listen to me. Poncho is one loco motherfucker. He's been sent to Psych ward, I don't know what they were thinking letting that crazy whackjob out in the first place. He went back to live with his mom and then attacked one of her elderly neighbours over some petty boundary dispute, pushed a pair of gardening shears right through the old dude's chest."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because if there's any retaliation for what happened, things are going to get nasty. Race war nasty." Bad Eye keeps nervously scratching at the scruffy little goatee on his chin as he speaks. Jensen lets out a long shaky breath, he knows how much of a risk Bad Eye is taking by coming to see him. There hasn't been a race war riot in San Quentin for easily a decade but the last one carried a heavy death toll not to mention subsequent years of nervous tension between rival fractions.
Jensen glances over at Jared still lost to sleep, the left side of his pale face is hidden by surgical tape and white gauze. "I'll speak to my boys, they won't do anything if I tell them not to."
"Warden Kripke is going to want to start an investigation into your buddy's death."
"I don't rat." Jensen snaps and Bad Eye nods, he knows Jensen even if it is only by word-of-mouth and he knows it's the truth.
Bad Eye ambles away leaving Jensen to wait for Jared to wake up. Jensen settles back against his pillow and puts a plaster-cast covered hand across his face, trying to halt the stinging in his eyes. He doesn’t know how he’s going to tell Jared that Chad is gone.
-0-
Chapter 8