J2 AU | R | No Strings Could Secure You | Part Two
Jared’s back at work, minding his own thoughts and wondering how in the world things could be so different in his life if he’d seen that TV show as a child. If he were opened to the emotions and characters and storylines of those brothers and what they saw in each other. Being an only child has left Jared without much to bounce off of except for his grandfather, when he was still around. The only person who gave in to fun and playful things, sharing all his stories about what he’d seen in media and making Jared jealous that he’d had those experiences. The lady pops back into his mind and how insistent she was that her life was enriched by all those discards, and what a travesty it was to burn them. How people were still being touched by such things.
Without much thought, he excuses himself from the room on needing fresh air and he’s in the hallway and down stairs before anyone can protest. He makes his way into the Propers Area and manages to get to the cellblock. He finds the lady, Sharon Parker, and tugs a chair in front of her cell.
She looks up at the noise of his seat and takes a long, hard look at him. Her critical eyes soften in seconds and she’s smiling softly. “You did it.”
He stares back and tries to keep himself level, tries to act like this is official business. “Where’d you get the discs from?”
Ms. Parker is up to the bars, gently holding them in her frail hands. She looks tired and worn down, which he knows is the interrogation the Propers gave her on exactly what he’s asking of her. “You watched the disc, didn’t you?” Her mouth spreads wider and she’s impressed. “I told you. Told you it’d blow your mind.”
Jared clears his throat as he glances around the space, making sure no one else is around. “Ms. Parker. I asked you a question,” he says in his best work voice. “Where did you get the discs?”
She sits at the edge of her cot and sighs with a smile. “You want to watch more, don’t you? You see what it does? It’s like sending your brain on a trip to any wonder of the world. The things you experience …”
He tries a harder tone. “Ms. Parker.”
Her back goes straight and the face is a little cold now. “I didn’t tell them. Won’t tell you.”
His feet tap with nervous energy. He wants to know, wants to see more of it and see what’s really there in media, what else is possible. But he can’t manage a good argument on it when he’s on the clock and in Proper. His hands swipe down his legs, tapping once at his knees as he stands. “Alright.”
“That show?” she starts as he’s walking away. “I heard one of the guys lives in my neighborhood.”
When he looks back on her, she’s smiling again with a raised eyebrow. And he remembers; the one brother was neighbor to the family they took away a few days ago. The guy who stared him down and eventually left with a dejected shake of his head the day they picked them up. Jared’s mouth curls up just enough to show his appreciation for the answer, but a second later it’s fine and thin. He nods. “Good evening.”
Ms. Parker smirks back. “You, too, Agent.”
When he’s back upstairs, Jeff is asking him where he’d run off to and if he’s feeling okay. Jared does his best to shake it off and say it was cabin fever. But all three of his co-workers are eyeing him oddly.
“Pads? C’mon over here,” Jeff prompts as he moves to the other side of the space and settles behind his desk.
Jared watches his boss with a careful glance before he follows and sits before him. “What’s going on?”
A thick eyebrow goes high on Jeff’s forehead as he watches Jared. “Was gonna ask you the same thing. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replies immediately, like everything really is.
“You been a little weird lately.”
He’s shaking his head and trying to be normal. “No, I’m fine.” The way Jeff’s eyebrow won’t go down and how his eyes are unrelenting on Jared’s are making him nervous. They’ve been trained to spot liars and the guilty; getting through this conversation is difficult. Jared finally relents with a sigh. “Sandy’s been working crazy hours. Hardly seen her this week.”
Jeff visibly relaxes the moment he’s said her name. The man chuckles, low and throaty. “I know how that goes. Haven’t seen Mary for a few myself.” Then he winks as he encourages Jared, “You have twenty-four off in a bit. I’m sure you’ll put it to good use.”
The phone call with Sandy, and how she’ll be gone for some of that time flashes in his mind, but he nods with a smile anyway. No reason to give away the idea that there’s something else bothering him. “Yeah, we will,” he smirks back.
When Jared rises from the chair, Jeff’s still watching him and the smile he’d had moments before starts to slide down; he’s done faking the conversation, too. Jared’s mouth flips quickly for a closed smile before he leaves his boss alone, hoping it’s enough to keep him off his back, off the idea that there’s something else here, and definitely off the fact that he’d gone down to Proper to talk to Ms. Parker.
*
The minute he gets to his bedroom, he crashes for a well-deserved bout of sleep. The shifts have never been easy on him; he’s never learned how to best capture rest to get through them. So when he’s afforded a twenty-four off, he usually spends a fair share of it sleeping on and off.
Sandy’s home hours after he falls asleep. When she collapses into bed with a tiny thud, he chuckles through his light sleep and pulls her in tight. “You okay?” he mumbles at the top of her head.
“Exhausted.”
“Mmhmm.”
They lie in silence for a bit and he’s convinced she’s fallen under, but she suddenly rises up to an elbow and is looking down on him. His eyes crack open and he feels a bit refreshed, as if he’s napped his way out of tire. She’s watching him critically and finally says softly, “Your mama called me.”
“Oh, no,” he sighs as he sits up, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“She said you were asking silly things. About the Freeze?”
Sandy’s voice is gentle and thoughtful but he doesn’t want to deal with the inquisition. He pushes the covers away and yanks jogging pants and a t-shirt on before stalking around the room to grab shoes and socks. “I just went to visit and asked a few questions,” he grumbles through it all.
Her voice builds some control, but after being with her for four years, he can sense the nerves beneath it. “She said you had a disc.”
He freezes at the dresser, hands still on the handles to the underwear drawer. He’s staring down on a mix of colored boxers and white socks that Sandy has carefully tucked into married pairs. It’s like he can see the disc, lying just below all that fabric, and it’s staring back at him, begging to be watched again. Begging to be shared.
“Jared?”
In the mirror, he can see her worry. He knows it’s more for him than the thought of having something in the house. But still, he’s a little edgy with her look and can’t manage to lie right here. “I told her someone offered me one.”
The way her eyes widen then close back down and her head dips down tells him that she’s even more scared at the implications of his words. “Jared,” she whispers.
He can’t stand to turn around. Watching her through the mirror gives him distance from the complication he’s brought into their lives, into their bedroom.
She looks back up. “Did you take it?”
His non-reply serves as the answer and she’s tearing up just waiting for him to deny it. But he can’t do it here. Not to her. “Sandy - ”
“Jared,” she says again, her voice stronger. “How could you?”
“It was …” He’s prepared to stay stupid - that it was so stupid of him to take it. But instead, his mind is flooded with the images he’d seen on the screen. How the camera had broadcasted so many lights and darks that fit the moods of each scene. The way it captured the events unraveling before him and the way it framed each of the characters. How much he connected to the emotions in between the men on screen and the battles they fought with words and fervor. The longer it’s been since he first saw it, the stronger he feels about it. He moves back to the bed and kneels before her. “Sandy, it was amazing,” he revels in voice and the intensity of his eyes. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s nearly smiling; he feels the stretch of his cheeks.
Sandy’s shaking her head, moving her hands away from her body. “No, no, you didn’t. You didn’t watch that.”
His excitement rises, even while his voice goes lower. Like he can’t chance anyone else knowing how he feels about it but he’s dying for her to know it’s affected him. He presses palms to his chest as if he’s afraid the emotions are going to break free and he won’t be able to know them anymore. “Oh my God, you have no idea what it was like. These people, they were so … so … passionate. The way they talked to each other, argued together. It was … Sandy, you wouldn’t believe it.” He keeps starting and stopping his words, not even sure what he wants to tell her about, because it’s all flooding him again and he’s overwhelmed with it all. Moisture builds in his eyes as he replays it all in his head. “The way they looked on screen, and how they moved around each other. The way the camera framed everything? My gosh, Sandy, you wouldn’t believe how beautiful it all was. You’d love it. The experience ...”
She’s still shaking her head and breathing deep. “No, no, Jared. No. You can’t do this. You have to burn it.”
“No,” he shakes back. “No, you have to see it.”
“Absolutely not,” Sandy whispers back. “You burn it.”
“I can’t.”
“Jared, it’s your job.”
The thrill of recounting the show dwindles away at her words. Of all reasons for him to trash the item, his job is number one. He breathes deep and watches her, how her eyes are full of disappointment and worry; she’s afraid she’ll be tied to it all the same.
A tiny hand reaches for his cheek, strokes gently. “You have to.”
Jared lies with the nod of his head and the tiny smile that tells her she’s right, that he’ll get rid of it. He goes back to the drawer, grabs the disc, and shows it to her with a nod before he tucks it into the waistband of his pants. He takes a deep breath but still tries to smile, like giving in to this is the best idea and he isn’t hiding what he really feels in this moment. “I’ll take it somewhere else. I don’t want the neighbors to see me doing it.”
She nods numbly and stays silent on the bed.
He moves closer and dips down, pausing when she won’t look up at him. He kisses the top of her head. His voice gets stronger, a little more confident, when he realizes these words are truth, “I’ll be back later. When I’m done taking care of this.”
When he leaves the house, he sets course for Ms. Parker’s neighborhood. He doesn’t have a doubt in his mind to do it and feels more certain in this moment than he has in the last forty-eight hours. Though when he is in front of the house, having rung the bell and waiting for an answer, he starts to question what his intentions are right here.
The door swings open and there he is, the man from the TV show. He looks less glossy and not as put together, but there’s matter to this body and a shape to every feature, like this is the human form of a robot. And Jared can’t stop staring at how strange it is to have the man from his computer screen in front of him.
“Yeah?” the guy asks, gruff and wary. It’s two seconds later that his face goes hard and accusatory because he now recognizes Jared. “You here to burn more?”
Jared’s hand goes to his belly, the tips of his fingers feeling the disc at his waistband. The memories of what he saw push his courage back up. “I have a few questions for you. About your job.”
The guy’s shaking his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The door shuts hard and loud.
His head tips back as he stares at the cover of the porch and takes a deep, steadying breath. Then he’s pushing the doorbell again and trying to not be startled by the quick opening or the anger in this man’s eyes. Jared rattles on quickly, “Sharon Parker from over on 25th Street gave me a disc. I watched it and you were on it.”
The eyes go wide in a flash and then they shut back down. His voice is mechanical but not as angry as before. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must be mistaken.”
As the door starts to close again, Jared pushes his hands against the screen door and taps for attention. “I’m not … I’m not on duty. I’m here to ask about it.”
“Whatever, guy. I don’t know anything.”
It’s inches from being closed and locking Jared out again, so he speaks fast and a bit excitedly, “I watched it. I liked it.”
The door stops, making Jared’s heart soar for getting through to the guy. It pulls back a few inches and he eyes Jared. “What did you watch?”
“It was … I don’t know. I don’t know the name. There were brothers and you were one. You two fought something awful,” Jared smiles a little. And it grows when he sees the guy’s face loosen up. He‘s not looking happy or impressed, but he’s not mad anymore, so that’s an improvement. Jared’s voice goes easy and he can feel wonder lace his words. “You were really good.”
His mouth quirks a millimeter and Jared thinks he can see a smile behind that movement, so Jared’s smiling, too. They continue staring for a few moments, the longest moments of Jared’s life, he’s sure, until finally the guy moves back and brings the door with him. He leans forward to unlock the screen and pushes it open a few inches so Jared can come in.
Upon first glance, there’s nothing in the home that tells Jared this guy is doing anything illegal. That he’s appearing in media or helping create it or that he even owns it. The walls are full of photos and art, but there’s nothing that stands out. And Jared’s used to looking for these things. It’s almost too clean, he tells himself.
“You want something? Beer or something else?”
Jared nods at the even tone of the voice, appreciating how it’s leveled itself off considerably. “Yeah, beer would be good.” He’s left alone in the living room, taking in the furniture that’s fairly beat up and faded, from the couch to the arm chair and down to the side tables with scratches and rips in fabric. Jared nods his thanks for the bottle and watches the guy sit back in the arm chair. It squeaks an ungodly noise and Jared snorts into the top of his drink.
“What?”
He shakes his head and takes a drink, but finally admits, “I thought you’d have something nicer in here.”
The look Jared receives is cautious, as is the voice. “Why’s that?”
With a shrug, he settles at the arm of the couch on the other side of the room. “Thought you’d be rich or something. I’m sure people pay good money for media.”
His mouth presses tight as he looks down to his own bottle, takes a long swig, and finally looks at Jared seriously. “I don’t think everyone does it for the money.”
Jared smiles at the guy’s admission. He feels the same amount of joy he had when the show hit every chord inside his brain and made him experience feelings he hadn’t known since his grandfather told him about the TV shows and movies they had back when he was a kid.
“What did you need?”
He swallows carefully, gathering his thoughts and the will to ask his question. It’s buried deep within his stomach but he’s dying to let it out. “Where can I get more?”
The beer bottle freezes in mid air while he watches Jared. “You want more?”
Nodding, “I really did like it.”
“Hmm,” he sounds while taking a drink.
“I’d never … never seen anything like it.” Jared can see how the lips curl up before they open for the bottle again, like he’s trying to hide his smile. He reaches beneath his shirt and pulls the disc out, places it gingerly on the table before him. “I’ve watched it like three, four times? I don’t know. But it was unbelievable.”
The guy just nods back and takes another drink. Not giving up anything more, and Jared can understand that. He knows he’s asking a lot to even have this conversation, let alone with someone who does what Jared does.
He tries his best to break that wall in closing some space and reaching forward with an open palm. “Jared Padalecki.”
“Media Agent,” he finishes for him.
“Well, yeah.” He glances at the open palm that the guy still hasn’t taken. “I’m not here for that.” He adds on miserably, “I hate my job.”
“I think most people feel that way.”
Jared pulls his hand back and sighs as he moves back to the other side of the room. He plays with the label on his bottle, tucking a fingernail under the edge and seeing it break away from the surface, like he wants to break away from his current life. “I don’t like tearing families up. I don’t like seeing the kids cry because they play video games.”
“Then why you do it?”
He looks up and keeps steady eyes on the guy as he thinks long and hard about it. At 18, he took the job to help his family; he stayed to uphold law; now he does it so he won’t go poor and be forced to find a new career. But it doesn’t seem to be a good excuse at the moment. “I don’t really know anymore.”
The guy nods and sits forward, placing his empty bottle on the table between them. He rubs his hands together and watches the movement, as if he’s waiting for an answer to appear between his fingers. On a sigh, he says low, “Jensen Ackles.”
“What?” Jared asks as he leans forward, wondering what kind of strange wisdom the guy is sharing.
“Jensen,” and he seems to fuss a little before going on. “Name’s Jensen Ackles.”
His eyebrows crease as he watches the nervous energy across the way. He smirks a little. “What kinda name’s that?”
“What the hell is Padalecki?” Jensen shoots back.
Jared’s smirk grows, glad to see some emotion in the room. He’s realized through the show and this moment here how little emotion is really shared anymore. It’s all simple questions and careful answers - like how guarded Sandy was in their bedroom when he talked about the disc. “It’s Polish, man.”
"English."
He smirks again. "You don't have an accent."
One of Jensen’s eyebrows flicks up and he bites down a smile. "There might be a little German, too.”
“Your people totally slayed my people,” Jared smiles around his beer bottle before taking a sip. “But I’ll let it slide for now.”
“Big war buff?”
He shrugs and brings the bottle down to his lap, feeling casual all of a sudden. It’s been a while since he’s had a conversation with someone that didn’t dictate what kinds of media he found and burned, or what a family said or did to keep him from doing his job. It’s refreshing. “History in general, maybe? I like to read the textbooks. Imagine what it was like back then.”
“Imagine?” Jensen asks with a slight air of interest to his voice.
“Yeah.”
His eyes go to the disc still on the coffee table then back to Jared’s face. “When’s the last time you saw one of those?”
“Before this morning?” Jensen nods in reply and Jared thinks, takes a deep breath. “I think I was seven? Eight?”
“What was it?”
He remembers sitting in his grandfather’s lap, experiencing the space fights and how so many special effects built the scene and made it a reality in his young mind. He shakes his head with a small smile. “Don’t remember the name. My grandpa showed it to me.”
Jensen sits forward, elbows on his knees and his fingers intertwined. He has a tiny, knowing smile on his lips and Jared’s relaxing more and more in this room. “What was it about?”
He shakes his head again and takes another deep breath. “I think there was a young guy whose family was all gone, so he followed some old guy to help save a planet? Something in space?” Jared shrugs and looks back down to his bottle. “I don’t know. It was a while ago.”
“Go on,” Jensen nods with bright eyes.
Their eyes meet and Jared’s reminded of how fascinating this man had been on his computer screen. How alive and passionate his face had become at just the right moments. This isn’t the same, but the excitement in his eyes is enough to trigger the feelings he experienced this morning, which then prompt the way he felt all those years ago in his grandfather’s living room. “They were rescuing a girl. A princess? And some guy with a monkey? They were helping.” He’s smiling now with the memory, but he’s still shaking his head and feeling foolish. “I don’t know, it sounds crazy here. But it was really interesting.”
Jensen’s smiling and eventually chuckling, looking down on his hands. When his head comes back up, he pins Jared with an amused glance - one he’d seen on the show, but it feels different here, it’s warm and energizing; it spikes Jared’s own energy for a moment. “It wasn’t a monkey. It’s called a Wookiee. The character is Chewbacca.”
“Huh?”
“I saw that movie. It really is good.”
Jared squints, happy that he’s not imagining things. There’s no earthly way to explain that movie and not have people stare at him like he’s lost half his brain, but Jensen knows it and he says it’s good, so he can’t be dreaming this one up. He’s about to say more when his cell phone beeps with a message from Sandy.
You take care of it?
He looks at the disc between them, laid out on the table for anyone to see if they came upon the room. But it feels like it’s safe here between him and Jensen. He smiles carefully at the guy and replies to Sandy. Yeah. It’s out of my hands
I’m glad. You coming soon?
Jared sighs and chances a glance at Jensen. “I should probably head out.” The guy’s face draws in and his hands move nervously over his knees before he rises with Jared. “Hey,” Jared says easily, leveling a hand between them. “Don’t worry. I say anything and they’ll wonder why I had it with me.”
Jensen’s eyeing him skeptically. “Really? Because I just assume you’d tell them it was mine all along.”
His voice goes tight, like it does when he’s on the clock. “They do fingerprints? I’m on it and so’s your neighbor.”
The guy breathes deep and just nods.
When Jared’s at the door, he turns slowly and watches Jensen reach the foyer. He hasn’t felt this nervous since he first played the disc. It’s almost an exciting kind of nervous, exhilarating when he considers the opportunities here. “You think, maybe, I could come back? Ask you more?”
“Ask about what?”
“Your job? What you do?”
Jensen’s back to guarded, the way he was when Jared first came to the house. He shakes his head and reaches for the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jared won’t move away and he’s got this flash in him of when he was young and petulant and didn’t think about rules or laws running his life and career. “If I was going to do anything, I’d have enough information already. I saw your show.” Jensen’s not replying, not even moving. Jared continues on, “And really? How do I explain that one? I watched a disc. I had one in my house and I watched it and I saw you in there. So I came here to ask more. I’m in as much trouble for having it.”
The flicker of a smile on Jensen’s face gives him away. He’s considering it, that’s for sure. “How much money you got on you?”
He squints back, confused. “I don’t know. Eighty, maybe a hundred?” Jensen’s palm opens between them. “What for?” he asks skeptically, but he’s still reaching for his wallet and ready to hand the money over.
Jensen looks down on the wallet and mumbles, “At the very least, I’ll have something to contribute to my bond.”
Jared chuckles, a light and playful sound that makes Jensen smile a little. He puts the money in the guy’s hand and then catches him with a slight smile. “You know, you’re an interesting guy. I don’t think I’ve smiled this much in a long while.”
They watch each other for a few moments and Jensen breaks sadly. “That’s a pretty sorry life.”
He nods too easily because now that the words have been said, he knows they’re true. The wallet goes back to his pocket and he sighs. “I gotta pay you every time I show up?”
“How many times you showin’ up?”
“As many as you let me.”
Jensen shakes his head, pulling the door fully wide and motioning Jared out.
Jared steps onto the porch with a frown but accepts that he had this moment and that’s good enough. He can live with it.
Halfway down the stairs, he’s stopped by Jensen’s voice. “Bring some beer next time.”
His heart picks up and he feels lightheaded for a quick two seconds. The smile he shoots to Jensen is wide and makes his dimples pop, he’s sure of it. “Yeah?” The guy nods back. “Lite?”
Jensen’s arm rests against the screen door and he quirks an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t mind the good stuff. As long as we’re committing felonies.”
Jared laughs, a quick burst of happiness that he hasn’t felt in a while. He likes this feeling.
*
Sandy eyes him for the first few minutes he’s back at the house, like she doesn’t know what to expect from him. Like he’s going to tear open and reveal a whole other creature beneath his skin. He almost feels that way, but it’s a good, fresh being who’s slowly waking up.
They never make it to the beach. She looks wary of him and he feels like he has to reinforce that it’s still him, the Jared she fell in love with years ago and is living with. He tries his best to prove it to her by spending the day in bed, cuddling, making love, sleeping, holding her tight. She gives in to it all, but he’s not any more sure about what’s going on in his head. His visit with Jensen Ackles replays over and over and over, and he’s captivated with it all over again.
She leaves in the early morning while he fakes his way through sleep. He lies there for who knows how long, replaying the TV show and cursing himself for leaving the disc at Jensen’s. He wants to run over there; he has an hour or two more until his shift starts, but he fears he’s pushing his luck with the guy and he doesn’t want to appear overeager. Even if he absolutely is.
At work, he’s feeling easier about himself, and Jeff and Chad and Jake eye him oddly, but he just jokes that he had a day home alone with his girl, so they can imagine the possibilities.
Jeff claps a hand on his shoulder. “Told you it’d be good when you were home.”
Jared smiles genuinely, but he’s thinking of the show and Jensen’s acting and the guy’s real voice. He’s lying his way through why he feels good this day, but at least he’s not faking the emotions. Which only crowd him when the alarm sounds, because he can’t imagine emptying another house of media now that he knows what it can do to a person’s state of mind.
He’s back to stoic and melancholy when they’re searching a bi-level home that normally holds a father, mother, and four kids, but at the moment has only two children at home. He checks the family pictures and realizes it’s the two youngest who are gone, and it’s Disney games and cartoon videos that they unearth in one of the bedrooms. He smirks at the thought that the parents got them out of the house, but then he’s frowning because this means the two teenagers, a boy and a girl, will be taking the fall and going off until they’re adults so not everyone is safe from the blame.
As he walks the boy out, he asks carefully, “How old are you?”
“Sixteen,” the kid grumbles while fighting the handcuffs. “Can’t ya ease up on these?”
“I’m sorry,” he replies softly, because he suddenly is. “Best case scenario you’ll be out when you’re eighteen.”
A scoff is the reply.
They’re at the van and he latches another set of cuffs from the door handle to the kid’s locks. He looks to the yard where Jeff and Jake are soaking the discards with lighter fluid and striking matches. “What about your sister?”
“What about her? You stay the fuck away from her!” he shouts back.
Jared turns quickly pushing at the kid’s shoulders, but not too rough. “Hey, you need to cool it,” he reasons easily. “You do anything stupid and you’ll be in more trouble. Got it?” He ducks down to the other set of eyes and looks between them quickly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His voice mostly levels, but he’s trying his best to be honestly interested. “How old is your sister?”
“Fourteen.”
He winces a little, thinking about her spending four years in juvenile detention. “You share that room with her?”
“What? No, it’s Sar -”
With a slight push to his shoulders again, he stares down the kid and gets in his face. Because it’s a little obvious who stays in that room and it’s not one of the teenagers. “Listen to me. You two could be inside until you’re eighteen. You share that room with her or is it just yours?”
The kid’s wide eyes go back and forth quickly, like he’s figuring out what’s going on. His breathing is rough when he finally says, “Nah, it’s just mine.”
“All those videos and games yours?”
“Why’re you doing this?” he asks, and his voice has gone dry and emotional.
Jared breathes deep, keeping the kid’s eyes with his. He knows why he’s doing this, but doesn’t know how to say so while on the clock. And while his mind can repeat that he doesn’t want to lock kids up for experiencing the things he’s come to look forward to himself, it’s hard to say aloud. His hand goes up to the side of the kid’s neck and squeezes lightly. “You tell ‘em you stole them just for fun or something. Don’t mention your sisters.”
“Wait, but - ”
“Don’t mention the ones who are gone either.”
“I’ll go to jail!”
“You’re going to jail anyway. You want company?”
He slowly shakes his head then nods gently in understanding while tears flood his eyes. “Okay, yeah. I’m sorry.” Jared nods in return and begins to move away as the kid goes on. “I’m sorry we had them. So sorry,” he’s whimpering quietly.
Jared’s hand swipes over the top of the kid’s head and he joins his co-workers like nothing were different with this particular alarm.
Jeff speaks up, voice steady and gentle. “What about the two little girls?”
“Kid says they’re his,” Jared replies evenly, staring into the yellow and orange flames flickering around the discs. It stings to see the media melting down, but he feels good for what he did by the van.
“C’mon. He’s at least fifteen,” Chad scoffs.
He just shrugs and gives a wry smile. “Says he stole ‘em. Just wanted to say he had them.” Jared looks to the street when the Proper van pulls up. “There we go.”
“Fucking kids,” Chad mutters as he steps back to the van.
*
When his shift ends early the next morning, he stops in at home to give Sandy a hug and a kiss, munch on some toast, and crash in the bed for a quick nap. As soon as she’s gone, he’s up and showering, dressing, running his way out the door to the grocery store. He’s jumpy buying a twelve-pack of Corona and some other odds and ends. The woman at check-out eyes him strangely, but he’s going to take comfort in the fact that it’s at least ten minutes past the start of liquor sales and he’s sharing this. He’s not an alcoholic.
Twenty minutes later, he’s ringing Jensen’s door bell and nervously grasping at the handle in the cardboard container. The door creaks open and Jensen’s swiping a hand over his head and his eyes are barely open. “Yeah?”
Jared smiles carefully. “I, uh, I brought stuff?” He pulls the pack up for Jensen to see.
“Corona?” he grumbles, mostly with fatigue and not so much annoyance.
“You said good stuff. It’s better than Lite.”
Jensen’s hand runs down his face, fingers and thumb splitting down his nose as his palm presses into his mouth. “It’s fucking ten in the morning.” He sighs at Jared’s slight frown and finally opens the screen to allow his entrance. “You come before noon again, you’re bringing coffee.”
“Noted,” Jared smiles back.
“Gimme ten to,” and he waves a hand from his face to his chest. Then his hand presses the sleep-crinkled tee into his stomach and he’s squinting against the sunlight streaming through the foyer.
“Yeah, no problem.”
Jensen motions to the living room. “Just, don’t mess with anything. I’ll be right back.”
He wants to smile in accepting it, but it’s weird all over again to be in the guy’s house, this home, and not knowing what to really do with himself. When Jensen’s heading upstairs, he sits at the couch he’d used to lean on two days before and spots the disc, his disc, on the coffee table. He picks it up and rolls it in his hands so the thin edges rub on the pads of his fingertips and he can revel in the feel of so much story and drama packed into this tiny piece of plastic. He sticks his finger in the middle hole and runs the disc in circles, feeling it twist his skin and he mentally replays the episode. Jensen’s emotions and the fierce determination in the other brother as they fought. How they stood side by side to battle the enemies and they refused to back down. How they smiled at each other, like their eyes were communicating so many sentiments and unsaid thoughts.
The footsteps aren’t loud, but he hears them getting closer and he places the disc back on the table. Jensen’s smirking down on him, freshly showered and dressed. “You okay?”
Jared looks back at the disc and sees his palm flex open above the item, like it wants to touch it again. He steels himself and stands tall in the room, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Jensen moves further into the room and opens the case of beer then uses the ring on his right hand to pop the cap off the bottle. He hands it to Jared then does a second for himself. “No limes?” he smirks.
He shuffles back into the couch then fumbles with a smile as he reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and shows off two limes in his grip. He tosses one, then the other, across the room to Jensen, who easily catches them both.
“My man,” he revels with a smile before jumping to the kitchen and returning with a knife and plate. They’re both smiling but not talking while he splits up the fruit and pushes some over to Jared’s side of the table. “You didn’t send the Propers,” he says easily.
“Told you I wouldn’t.”
“You trying to become one?”
Jared sighs as he catches Jensen’s suspicion. Before he watched that disc, he wanted nothing more - if only to get him off the crazy shifts and away from the images of literally pulling families apart, but also because he thought it would be more fulfilling to be part of the investigation and evidence-tracing. Now, he can’t imagine being any part in the process. “No, I’m not.”
“This would be a good place to start. You take down an actor? Get all the contacts? The cameras and the editing machines, the directors, writers … Who you think they want first?”
Jared’s ready to say writers, because they’re the first step in the creative process, but he just stares into the top of his bottle. “I’m not … I’m not doing that.” He takes a big swig and enjoys the flick of lime juice mixing with the Mexican beer. He smiles gently at Jensen. “I’m honestly interested.”
He takes a long sip himself, eyeing Jared the entire time. It’s a long look and unsettles Jared, and then the guy’s smiling like he means to do that. He finally asks, “What’re you interested in?”
The bottle rests on Jared’s knee and he sits up to bring his many thoughts together. “How long’ve you been doing it?”
Jensen’s lips curl into his mouth and press together. When they push back out, he brings the bottle back up to drink. Carefully, slowly, he speaks. “Maybe fifteen years. Give or take a few.”
Jared’s smile breaks on the left side, a dimple creasing. He sits up further. “You’re still doing it?”
He nods while staring Jared down.
“What’s it like?”
The muscles in Jensen’s neck clench while he takes a dry swallow, and he’s still staring. He finally takes a sip of beer to wet his mouth and throat so he can talk. “Like nothing you’ve ever known,” he says gently.
“I thought … this disc?” he asks moving to the edge of the couch cushion and pointing at the plastic on the table. “That was nothing like I’ve ever known. That movie my grandpa showed me? It was nothing like I’ve ever known.”
Jensen smiles at the light in Jared’s words, how he’s drumming up energy with the excitement of the possibilities in this new world he’s uncovering. “It’s even better,” he says against his beer bottle and takes another sip.
“What do you do? I mean, how does that even work?”
They spend the next three hours with Jensen filling Jared’s mind with unknown details about script writers who create these alternate universes and directors who give inspiration to actors who pretend to be someone they’ll never be without the words to guide them. He tells him of the sets and backdrops that mentally transport actors to this new world and gives them the unearthly feeling of being somewhere other than an abandoned warehouse or hidden late at night where Propers and Media Agents will never find them. But he goes the most in depth into how he fills his characters with specific ticks and flares of speech. And how clothes and hair and makeup sets him up every time to fall into the person he and the writer and the director have collaborated to create. It’s like the most complicated game of make-believe Jared’s ever heard of and he’s fascinated with it.
All the images fill Jared’s head to the point of a headache. But he begs for more and more. They continue drinking to the point of giddiness and Jared’s smiling so broadly at every morsel that Jensen feeds him of his life and how exciting it is to pretend to be someone else for hours then shed clothes and be himself, leading a double life and all that. It floods Jared’s system and he wants to cry from the sheer exhilaration of this world that Jensen’s lived for the last two decades but Jared never even considered before. He feels foolish, but Jensen takes it all in stride and smiles thoughtfully when he nudges a box of Kleenex across the coffee table.
“If I’d known you were such a chick,” he starts with a smile, “I’d have gone easy on you. Tell you about one of the shittier movies I did when I was a kid.”
Jared chuckles while drying his cheeks, but the flipping of one emotion to another makes more tears fall and he definitely feels like a girl right here. “I’m sorry. I just … I don’t know. It’s kind of overwhelming.”
He smirks in return. “I guess it can be. To someone who only knows the Freeze.”
“Everyone’s in the Freeze. How did you get around it?”
With a shrug, Jensen picks at the opening of his bottle. “My parents didn’t want to keep us uneducated.”
“I was educated,” Jared argues.
Jensen continues to play with the edge of the glass, not looking at Jared while he speaks. “They sent us out of state before it hit there. So we could still get liberal arts. They thought it was more important for us to know those things than for us to be with the family every day.”
He eyes him, interested and curious. Jared wonders what his life would be like if he had the same opportunity - to learn about all the emotions and possibilities in creative arts even if it meant he didn’t see his mama, dad, or pa every day. “How did you do that? Without your parents?”
Jensen awkwardly shrugs but the words flow from his mouth. “We talked all the time. And they constantly told us how important it was to be a part of the arts and know what its usefulness was.”
“Which is?”
He smirks. “You cried over my describing the movie system, what do you think it is?”
Jared chuckles. “To make grown men cry?”
Jensen smiles meaningfully. "It’s the emotions. To makes us feel and understand and be entertained. It opens people up to talk about their opinions and their feelings. How all these stories affect us individually.”
He squints back and tries to recall if he does those things with Sandy or his co-workers or even his mama. They’ve talked about how things are, but the words that come up are always ‘tired’ and ‘work’ and ‘love.’ And yeah, they laugh on occasion, but he realizes it doesn’t feel as easy and satisfying as it does here in this living room, about this subject. “You obviously liked it. Getting to do that?”
“Yeah, definitely,” Jensen smiles fondly. “I’m glad they gave me the choice.”
“Choice?” Jared sits up straighter, a bit confused.
“They asked us if we wanted to go. My brother wasn’t so sure, afraid our parents would get sent away just for giving us the opportunity. But my sister and I?” He chuckles as he looks across the room and eyes a family portrait where he’s planted between an older man and a young woman. “We were freaking excited at the chance to see things our friends wouldn’t ever know again. I jumped at it in an instant.”
This part of Jensen’s speech hits Jared in his stomach, tumbling around and reminding him of what’d happened on his last shift. He suddenly wants children to have a choice and for the laws to let them all off the hook. Issue the parents warnings and remove the items instead of carting them off to jail for any quantity of discards. Jared swallows hard. “We had a family this morning. Little girls, couldn’t have been more than ten? Movies and games in their room.”
Jensen shakes his head and takes the last swig of beer from his bottle. He looks angry and it seems directed at Jared for being a part of the story.
“By the time we got there, they were gone. I don’t know where, but I bet some other family had ‘em? Big brother took the blame.”
“Brave kid,” Jensen murmurs.
Jared swallows again, staring on his bottle but not wanting to give himself the relief of liquid. He feels like he needs to suffer with a dry mouth through this story because he’s not proud of being there. Though he is proud of his next words. “He was sixteen. He’ll probably only get two years. I told him to take the blame.”
“You what?”
He snaps to Jensen’s attention, noting the surprise in that voice. He shrugs awkwardly, “The other girl was fourteen. He’d only get two years.”
“What about the parents?” he asks, quiet and careful.
Jared shakes his head and barely breaks a smile at the thought that he’d saved the family from being gutted. True, the boy would be gone for two years, but it couldn’t compare to what would’ve happened. “With the youngest two gone, we couldn’t do anything. I told everyone the kid stole it for fun.”
“Yeah, but,” and Jensen sits forward in his chair, worried for this family he doesn’t know. “Won’t the kid get more for theft?”
“Maybe another year?”
His eyes narrow and the voice goes sharp, hitting Jared in the chest. “You set that boy up for three years?”
Jared stares right back, his voice going sharp as well. “You rather I send three girls under fifteen to detention? The parents, too?”
Jensen leans back and goes quiet.
“Maybe that’d be the answer? At least they’re all locked up together?” he bites again.
“No, I … whatever.” Jensen sighs and goes for his bottle again, but it’s been empty for too long and he pushes it onto the table with a loud rattle as it spins around before settling. “No. You’re right.”
His voice goes low, sounding a little troubled. Because he absolutely is right here, reliving the night and what he has to deal with so regularly. His eyes water on the thought and his voice is a little emotional, breaking with the memory of it. “It’s bad all around. I just tried to do the best thing for them all.”
Jensen’s mouth moves around, like he’s fighting with what he wants to say. He tips his head back and stares at the ceiling for a long while before finally saying, “You did.” He looks back at Jared with a slightly fond look. “You absolutely did.”
Jared pushes his thumb and forefinger into his eyes to lessen the tears and he’s breathing deep to steady himself.
Jensen rises from his chair and grabs the cardboard box that now only holds three beers as he moves out of the room. “I think next time we should go easy on the beer.”
He chuckles, realizing the alcohol is streaming his brain, making him a bit melodramatic. This is not exactly the second impression he wanted to give Jensen - he likes to imagine that the first time he saw the guy, when he burned Jensen's neighbor's discards on the front lawn, doesn’t count. Once Jared’s settled himself from these emotions, he leans back over the side of the couch to see Jensen down the hall, in the kitchen. “That show? With the brothers?”
Jensen twists a bit to see Jared watching him. “Yeah?”
“What’s it called?”
He smirks as he’s cleaning things off the counter. “Supernatural.”
“Huh,” he nearly sighs. Then he looks back over. “Where can I get more of that?”
Jensen looks down the hallway and even with the distance Jared can tell he’s staring him down and judging what’s on his face. To see if he’s truly interested or just wants to find out where these things are really coming from. Without a word, Jensen’s gone from his sight. Jared hears shuffling from the far end of the house and random steps. He sighs and rests back against the couch, cursing himself out for forcing this on Jensen. He’s already gotten hours-worth of stories on how the media system works and what kinds of things people create and why. He shouldn’t have pushed his luck. “Here,” Jensen says gently as he drops a package in Jared’s lap.
He looks down on it and suddenly Jensen and the brother are staring back up at him. He grabs the box with careful hands, like he can’t believe what lies beneath the pictures and graphics. He checks all sides of it, admiring the detail to the covers. He has seen so many boxes just like this, but he never has the chance to look at them. His breath goes deep into his lungs and his mouth curves up before he’s smiling up at Jensen. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” he nods with a quirk of his mouth. “Just promise the next time you bust someone, you’ll go easy on them again.”
He chuckles a little, just imaging himself as the soft agent who steps aside with all the criminals and tells them how to best deal with the situation and get the least amount of time. “What? Like I’m your inside man?”
Jensen pats a hand at Jared’s shoulder. “You could be our inside man.”
His mouth quirks with the uncomfortable notion of jeopardizing his job and his life by working on this side of the law. It’s exciting, sure, to be a part of this world and to be in an actor’s space to hear about it. But he doesn’t want to be busted for a single thing. Even if he now has a full season of Supernatural in his lap. “I, uh,” he finally says awkwardly.
A hand runs over Jared’s head playfully before it taps lightly. “Don’t come back until you’re done with that season. Then we’ll talk.”
He smiles unevenly, trying his best to feel okay with this new situation. His heart is warming with the opportunity to watch more media, to feel the way he did that morning he took in one episode four times over. But it’s the hypocritical notion of possessing these discs and being an agent. At putting Sandy at odds for having it in their house.
“C’mon, you’re depressing me now,” Jensen jokes as he pats at Jared’s head again. “Get outta here before you make my slit my wrists.”
At the doorway, Jared’s hand goes to Jensen’s shoulder and squeezes. “Thank you.”
Jensen nods in return, slowly and with meaning.
“This is awesome,” he says with wonder while flipping the box over in his hand and the other one is still holding Jensen. He finally pats at the guy’s shoulder and gives a genuine, albeit small, smile. The thrill of having more media to watch finally overcomes the notion of being caught and his dimples anchor a large smile.
Part Three