fic: J2 (RPF); to dream you wide awake (4/4)
4012 days, 2 hours, 18 minutes
The wind is picking up.
Jared wants to think this is a significant wind, pushing at his back until he heads in the right direction, but it isn't anything like fate. It buffets around him haphazardly, whipping around his body. This isn't his wind.
He goes home, has to fight the wind just to get the door open, and then it slams itself shut.
"Jensen?" he calls out into the empty house. The wind howls in answer. Jared slips a hand into his pocket and curls his fingers around the pocket watch, imagining that he can feel it ticking. It acts as a dowsing rod for reality: it's constantly in flux in Jared's mind, this is a dream fighting against the idea that wants to take root in his mind, the idea that this place with Jensen is all he has ever known, is reality itself-until he touches the cool weight of his totem, and knows for sure.
This isn't real, and neither is that wind. If mother nature isn't at fault, then Jensen is. Jared closes his eyes, finds the center of the storm, goes where his mind takes him.
He finds himself in an unfamiliar landscape, but relaxes immediately when he finds Jensen there.
The air is calm. Eye of the storm, his mind supplies.
They're in front of a brick house, sitting in the middle of sprawling acreage and surrounded by meticulous landscaping. Jared has never seen it before.
"What's-Jensen, when did you build this?"
Jensen shrugs. "Been working on it." His jaw is tight, looking at the house, unfocused. Jared looks at his profile for a moment, licks his lips.
"Jen. What's in there?"
"I don't know," Jensen says, but he says it like he's terrified. Then it comes back to Jared-"It's okay dude, really. I don't remember any of it. It's a psychological thing“-and he takes a step back. He looks back at the house with wide eyes, the solid, lovely structure of it sitting in the middle of an otherwise blank canvas, and he knows what they're going to find in there.
Jensen is standing at the foot of the walkway with his shoulders square; turns to look back at Jared when he moves. "I want you to come in with me. Jared. I couldn't. Handle it on my own the first time, yeah? I don't know what will happen." He's determined, eyes carefully guarded, but the naked fear in his voice makes Jared so angry at whoever did this to him. "I can't hide from it in here anymore," Jensen pleads.
"Of course. God, Jensen, of course," Jared agrees quickly. He doesn't let himself think about what they're about to walk into, so instead he grips the curve of Jensen's shoulder, thumb brushing his neck surely. "I'll be right behind you. Okay?"
Jensen nods, closes his eyes for a brief second, jaw working. He turns neatly and starts up the path, Jared close behind.
He's not sure what he was expecting to find in there, but for some reason Jared didn't think it would feel this invasive. He hesitates at the door after Jensen disappears inside, and then he hears Jensen's voice say, tentatively, "Dad?"
It's the small, shaky sound of Jensen's voice that has Jared stepping across the threshold. He finds Jensen standing at the open doorway to what looks to be the living room. Something tells him he shouldn't interrupt, but the slump of Jensen's shoulders has Jared itching to lend him a supportive hand. He doesn't.
A voice drifts out of the living room: "Jensen, go. Go! Don't please, he's not a part of this. Leave him out of this!"
The sound of Jensen's father's panic has Jared starting forward, ready to jump in and help, but just as he tries to shoulder his way past Jensen his arm reaches across the front of Jared's body, holding him back.
Inside the room, there seems to be a stalemate. A harried looking man is standing at the end of a couch, one hand inclined towards the telephone sitting on a table there, the other held out in front of him, placating a second man-this one who is much more in control of the situation than he himself believes, because he's holding a gun. The long barrel of a silencer is attached to the end, and the man's gloved hands are shaking. Jared can tell that they're shaking with rage and not fear, because the man's eyes are dead, cold, full of hatred.
The hand holding the gun swings around to point at Jensen, who takes a startled half-step backwards and spreads his hands wide in a kind of surrender. His whole body is rigid, his eyes impossibly wide. Jared grips the doorframe, overcome with the need to grab Jensen and tug him right out of this memory, but he made a promise.
"No!" Jensen's father shouts. "He has nothing to do with this, he's just a kid!"
"Just a kid?," the man says, eyes never leaving Jensen's face. Jared has seen men at their breaking points; this one has gone right over his. "What kind of a thing is that for a father to say about his son, hm? Maybe if I had thought of Shane as just a kid I wouldn't have had to kill that son of a bitch Cressley for what he did to him."
"Please," says Jensen's father weakly. "Haven't we suffered enough?"
"Maybe not. Maybe you need to learn what it's like, losing a son. Maybe you need to learn that justice is not about deciding who deserves their misfortune."
Jared is feeling wholly out of his element now, because he doesn't know who Shane or Cressley or even the man with the gun are or why they are here, beyond it pertaining to a case that Ackles senior must have worked on. From what he can tell, Jensen is just as confused as he is. He doesn't move, doesn't flinch, doesn't take his eyes off the barrel of the gun.
Which is why Jensen also doesn't notice, and neither does the gunman, that Jensen's father takes this time to scrabble for the receiver of the phone, pulling the cradle toward him by the cord and hurriedly punching at the numbers, trying for 911.
The man shouts and then there's a muffled sound from the barrel of the gun, and the corner of the end table explodes into shards.
"Don't! Your wife already tried that. Didn't work out so well for her, now did it?"
Jensen makes a soft, involuntary noise next to Jared, who is so close to him that he can feel it. Jared's arm twitches in an aborted attempt to grab at Jensen just to comfort him-but he's not sure if that will jar the memory out of context and skew the outcome.
"I'm not going to kill your son," the man says. "But I will make him suffer. I will make him bear the sins of his father, like my son did for me, and one day this will all come full circle."
He rounds on Jensen again, gun arm outstretched so that it is trained on Jensen's father, slumped now on the couch and breathing hard.
"They tell me Shane knew too much. They tell me that he was working with laundered money, do you understand? Drug money. My son, involved in that. And it's a lie. Shane had nothing to do with it. I never told this to your father, of course. It was mine. I accepted the money. I pushed it through the shop. You, boy, you've never had to work for a thing a day in your life, have you? Little, pretty rich boy. You'll never know poverty. I'll kill your father and all of his estate goes to you, I'm sure. Do you blame me, then? For wanting my son to know a life like yours? Do you?"
Jensen shakes his head jerkily back and forth.
"They did. They blamed him. Cressley shot my son in cold blood, did you know that? All because he knew a man's name. He didn't even know that Charles Gray was involved in anything illegal, but they were so damn afraid that Shane would tell them that they just went in and shot him in the head.
And your dear old dad couldn't even get Cressley jailed for it. They said Cressley had done a service to his community. They say he had acted out of self defense, because he would be killed if he didn't follow orders.
And now you know, too. Do you understand, boy? Now you know his name. Charles Gray. And one day, you're gonna get killed for it, just like my son.
So you better hope, boy, that they never put two and two together. Everyone winds up killed for Charles Gray one way or another, and I'm not the only one who wants to put a name to the face of the drug ring that murdered their loved ones. And if anyone ever learns that you know?" The man outstretches his arms, regarding Jensen gleefully. "Dead man walking."
And then he turns, aims his gun at Jensen's father, and pulls the trigger.
Jensen turns around so fast that his shoulder slams hard into Jared's chest, but he recovers quickly, as if he hadn't even noticed Jared was there.
They take off down the hallway, Jared clinging to the hem of Jensen's shirt as they go. It's when they trip into the kitchen that they both see it: the body of Jensen's mother, slumped on the floor, blonde hair fanning out onto the tile. It rustles in the breeze of the open back door and Jensen makes a strangled cry, but Jared forces his head down and away and then tugs Jensen the opposite direction.
Jensen shoves him off, seemingly stuck somewhere between being 15 years old and living this for the first time and being 30 and well past it. They pass through the mudroom and into the garage.
"Shit, shit," he mutters, pulling open the drawers of a tool chest as wrenches and bolts rattle around in them, hit the floor. Jared glances nervously back at the doorway into the house. It's just a memory, he reminds himself, nobody can actually hurt them.
Jensen finally grabs at something, which turns out to be a spare car key, and unlocks the driver's seat to the Lexus parked there in the garage. He doesn't seem to remember Jared is with him anymore and Jared has to throw himself into the passenger side before Jensen drives off without him.
They peel off down the driveway, Jensen angrily wiping tears out of his vision. They drive in silence until the scenery flashing by outside the window is the same loop of forest-lined highway.
"Jensen," Jared tries. "Jensen, stop the car." No reaction. Jared reaches for the steering wheel.
"No!" Jensen shouts, batting away Jared's hand and wildly overcorrecting the steering; the car swerves violently to the left before straightening out again. Jared just stares at Jensen's profile for a second, unsure about what he's supposed to do.
"Jen, it's over, okay? It was nothing. We're dreaming. Remember?" He chances a hand on Jensen's thigh and lets out a breath when there's no violent reaction. "Hey, you've got to remember, okay? You're here with me-Jared-and this is just a dream. Hey."
Jensen's grip on the wheel finally relaxes. "It's over," he mutters, seemingly to himself. "Nothing we can do."
"Exactly. Now will you please stop the car?"
Jensen nods and then slams on the brakes just a little too hard. The car stutters to a halt and Jensen gets out like its suddenly burning him. He paces to the side of the road and back until Jared reaches him, leaving the car forlorn in the middle of the road with its doors open like arms.
"Jesus, Jared." Jensen says. His eyes are still wide, and his hands shake a little when he pushes them through his hair. "Jesus.“
"Talk to me, man."
"I should never have made you do that. I should have gone in alone, this was my nightmare."
"Oh, come on, give me more credit than that," Jared says, aiming at levity. It goes ignored.
"I could have gone without seeing that," Jensen rasps out, and then laughs self-depracatingly. "Why did I do that?"
"You needed to. You couldn't hide from it, that's what you said." Jared places his hands carefully on Jensen's shoulders so that he can't look away. "You were right. I know, I know you're going to try and block that out, you're running away from it already. But you had to see that. Don't you get it? You can protect yourself now."
Jensen swallows hard and he's no longer shaking, but he's staring at Jared like he's never seen anything like him before. "What? No. No no, Jay, no. This is over. "
"It's not! Go to the authorities, as soon we wake up. You have to tell them what really happened, tell them about Gray, about Cressley-"
"He's dead."
"What?"
"He'd dead. Cressley. Leavens, that's his name, Jim Leavens, the man who killed my parents. He murdered Cressley as well. Tried for multiple counts of first degree murder. I expect his sentence has been carried out by now, too, but I didn't hang around long enough to see him put on death row. He killed them, Jay, and I spent so many years wondering why I lived, who I was to survive."
"You know it now. Charles Grey."
"And what am I supposed to do with that, huh? There are a lot of people who would kill me for that name. A lot of them. And I've put myself right in the middle of the fucking best interrogation industry in the world. Dream theft. Information. God fucking dammit."
"But they're dead. Nobody knows. Do they?"
"I dunno, Jay, who would think to go after the one person left alive in the whole ordeal?"
He says it mockingly, voice thick with sarcasm, and Jared recoils. Jensen puts a hand to his forehead.
"Sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. But I don't-they'll never get that information, Jared. I don't want it, but no way in hell can I ever give it away."
"Okay. Jensen." Jared reaches out to finally draw Jensen in, but Jensen is unyielding. "It's not something you have to shoulder alone, okay? You're not alone."
Jensen finally relaxes, closing his eyes and breathing steadily in and out. "I know," he mutters, but it sounds painful for him to say, and Jared has no idea why. "I know."
|||
Jared hadn't thought about that once. Not when he woke up, and not when Chris had shown up at his door. He had just jumped headlong into the moment he thought he could see Jensen again, smile at him, say goodbye. It would have been easier that way, to just let him go. But Jensen gave everything to him, made him a safe place, trusted him with his darkest secret.
"I wish it was that noble," Jensen says quietly. "I was scared. I've always been scared."
"You shouldn't be," Jared says thickly, shaking his head. "Man, you shouldn't be. Didn't I tell you that the only thing that matters is what you decide is real? Yeah?"
"I'm sorry."
"I'm it, aren't I? Your lock box? Your safe? Your-"
"Yes."
Chris clears his throat. "You shared a subconscious," he says. "Every memory about what went on down there is as easy to access when Jensen's dreaming as it is when you are, Jared. Problem is, Jensen's idea of safety doesn't align with the rest of the free worlds', does it. Dumbass spends his whole life holding his cards close to his chest; one pretty boy comes along and he gives them all away."
"Fuck you, Chris."
Chris just grins.
"Tell me what's going on," Jared says, ignoring the way his chest feels as open as the sky, pushing against his ribs.
"There are no hijackers. There is no mark. I'm so sorry I lied to you, Jensen, but I had to protect you."
Jensen stares at Chris with an unreadable expression on his face, and Jared watches Jensen, and Chris tell them both that two months ago he was approached by a man named Coronet about a job. A double-cross against Jensen Ackles. They wanted Jared, they said, but they couldn't find him, and so they told Chris they would pay him enough that he could retire comfortable and not have to worry about money again.
"Like hell I would let you get killed, Jensen," Chris says, slumped against the door. "I knew that if I refused, they would just find someone else. This was my best option. Jared, I thought about explaining everything to you, but it would be harder if you knew.
The hijackers are with me. Or I'm with them, whatever. They're a second team and they're going to try and get Jared cornered. Jensen, you can tell the difference, right? Please tell me you know which is Jared and which is a projection?"
Jensen licks his lips and looks at Jared. He swallows thickly. "This is what I was afraid of," he says lowly. "I know that limbo was real, Jay, I figured that out a long time ago. I just couldn't admit it to myself. I had to keep it all in my head, see? Otherwise it's too real. It's this. It's taking responsibility for what happened to me."
"Shut up," Jared says, surprised at how choked up his voice is. "You're going to be fine, we are all going to be fine. I won't tell them anything."
"Maybe not, but they don't exactly need to interrogate you, do they?" Chris says. Jared forgot for a second that he was even in the room."I needed you in here, too," he tells Jared. "They know by now that I'm not really on board with them anymore, I changed the entire north wing. Had to teach them the layout so they could find you. But this morning I had you make changes that they don't know about."
"I still don't understand. They need me, okay, I get that. But why? Why can't they force it out of Jensen's subconscious? He remembers it too, now."
"Can't access it," Jensen says. "It's yours."
"What?"
Jensen shrugs. "I blocked it out of my memory before, Jared, it's no surprise that I can't access it outside of limbo. God, I knew this was going to fucking happen. I thought it was safe with you. I didn't think they would figure it out."
"Yeah, well your projections managed to broadcast that information to the entire dreamshare underground," Chris says dryly.
"What's their plan, then?"
"Stick the two of you back in limbo."
"No," Jensen says. The sentiment is exactly what Jared's whole body is screaming; they can't do that again, they can't risk it a second time-
"Then you both need to get away from each other, run in two opposite fucking directions and stay away until the kick. No way you're outrunning those guys on the train while it's still in motion."
"Okay." Jared nods, mostly to himself. "Okay, I got the south and west wings, Jen, you're going north and east. We have," he pulls out his pocket watch, "one hour until the kick. Chris." He locks eyes with him. "You're going to lead off the projections, okay?"
"Fucking duh," Chris says, and the door opens behind him with a click.
"Don't get yourself killed," Jensen tells Jared, already having closed himself off, and disappears out the door.
|||
Jared isn't entirely sure how Coronet's team was planning on getting the both of them down into limbo, or how they planned on getting out, or whether he even cared about the plan. That was before he turned down a row of cell blocks and found himself walking straight into an ambush.
The thing about building a jail is that cells are pretty hard to get out of when you're not the one changing the dream.
"Hello, gentlemen, lady," Jared says brightly, rolling up his sleeves. There are two men and one woman waiting for him in the cell, a PASIV laid out on one of the bunks. "What's the occasion? Theft? Murder? Mayhem? Must be my birthday."
It's a fight he doesn't win, not three against one. He fights to keep control of his surroundings, so that when he wakes up a level down he's going to remember how to get back up. And that doesn't involve dying. He hopes to god that that's Coronet kicking him in the gut right now, and that Jensen is safe, because there's no way he's going to be able to-
|||
It's the sounds he registers first: the steady rush of the wind, waves crashing somewhere close by. When Jared opens his eyes he's not surprised to see the pale blue sky, offset by the wooden underside of the large umbrella he's lying under, dead palm leaves cutting into his view. The wood beams creak gently in the wind.
Jared doesn't find himself concerned. In fact, when he thinks about it, he's perfectly comfortable here. His body feels rested, and he stretches. He rolls over on the deck chair and reaches instinctively for the pocket of his shorts, pulling out his pocket watch. There's a small click when he opens it, the watch face still and silent. Something tugs on the back of Jared's mind-it's Jensen, and so he pushes those thoughts away, knowing he won't find him here, wherever here is-and comes to the conclusion that he's here on a job. Yes, that's it. A job, now he remembers.
The tide is out. Waves rise low and long, then give in and break over lazily. Jared should figure out what he's doing here. He wanders down to the beach and wades in until the water is covering his waist.
The waves are crashing behind him now. Jared rests a hand just over the surface of the water. Jensen tugs at his mind again. He sees Jensen's crumpled form on the beach, feels the oddly fresh salt water burn in the back of this throat-had that happened? When?
This is important. Pay attention, Jared.
Pay attention to what? It's so hard to focus, and Jared lets it go.
"Jay?"
Jared turns toward the shore. Chad is standing there, shading his eyes with his hands and squinting out at where Jared is standing in the water. Had Chad been working on this job? Jared doesn't remember.
He frowns slightly as he waves back. He can't really remember much about the job at all-he isn't able to recall any of the details, actually.
"What are you doing, we've been looking everywhere!"
Jared opens his mouth to answer but shuts it again, wading back out to meet Chad on the sand. He's looking slightly frantic, hand in his pocket where Jared knows there isn't a totem at all, just a lighter that Chad fumbles with when he's nervous. Jared has told him a thousand times not to come crying to him when he sets his pants on fire, and he allows himself a small smirk at that, head starting to clear.
"What's up?" he asks pleasantly, but his stomach rolls with nerves at Chad's answering expression.
"What's up is that Jensen is back there freaking the fuck out and you apparently couldn't take your phone with you when you ran off, dickweed. Jensen's about to hop the next flight out of here if you don't go calm his ass down."
Jensen, oh. No wonder he keeps surfacing in Jared's mind. Something comes back to him now, a building in Paris and Jensen carefully avoiding speaking with him at all; the job. The job that has nothing to do with the beach.
How did he get here? Jared's hand goes back to his pocket watch. How did he get here, how did he get here? It seems so important to know, but his watch is silent. Jensen. Jensen needs him.
"Let's go."
|||
“Take a right, and then two lefts,“ Chris says. Jensen's signal is getting a bit scrambled, and the last time he switched over to Jared's channel to check on his position, he hadn't gotten an answer.
"It's a dead end," he reports back, and Chris swears. "I can't find Jared. Over." Chris swears more.
“Okay, change of plans. If they've got Jared down a level, you're going with him. There's a--, a forger, his-- is Michaels, he'll be the dreamer. Wake him-- then we're all getting the hell-- this fucking nightmare.“
Jensen turns his back to the dead end wall. He wishes he had Jared's watch right now, because there's no countdown to this kick, but whatever it is, they've got even less time than that, and no way of letting Jared know.
Jensen rounds the corner and comes to a large, circular room-the elusive plaza. "Congratulations, Ackles, you've found the center of this maze," he mutters to himself humorlessly. Jensen checks his gun, wonders what the hell he's getting himself into, and heads under the archway labeled "South."
|||
Jared, pushing his way through the door after Chad, turns one quick circle and knows. This place is not supposed to exist. Chad-or whoever is pretending to be Chad-tucks a hand into his pocket and frowns patiently at Jared, and then the ground gives an almighty shake and throws them both off balance.
The realization that his totem has been compromised slides like ice down his spine: not only is he dreaming, but somebody did their homework. Jared tries to hold it together before the whole damn house comes crashing down and he wakes up God knows where. He can't shake the feeling that Jensen is in danger, really in danger, and when fake-Chad loses his forge and becomes somebody Jared doesn't recognize, he feels panic for the first time.
"Who are you?" he says, gripping at the doorframe as the ground bucks beneath him again, but the man is pulling a gun out and aiming it at Jared's head.
"We were supposed to have more time than this," not-Chad mutters cryptically, and Jared closes his eyes involuntarily.
There's a gunshot, but nothing happens. Jared opens his eyes just as the unknown man's body hits the floor, and Jensen's standing there at the bottom of the stairwell.
"Calm down!" he shouts over the noise. "Jared, you know this, you can stop this!
Behind Jared, the glass walls of the house ha and Jensen had built in limbo begin to shatter, one after the other. Jared closes his eyes and his memory gives him the image of a claustrophobic room with steel walls, Jensen following Chris out of the door-and the pieces all slide together.
His hand goes instinctively to clutch at his pocket watch, his useless useless totem, and then the ceiling begins to fall in. "Run!" he shouts, voice muffled, but he doesn't have to tell Jensen twice-they both scramble out of the falling house, Jared breathing in deep, relaxing until the dream stabilizes.
"Got you?" he wheezes, looking at Jensen.
"Yeah, man, I walked right into it."
"So did I."
"You don't understand. Chris is waking up early."
"What?"
"We'll only have a few minutes, but at this point it's the only way we're getting out of this level without dying."
Jared shakes his head in disbelief. "He's putting himself in danger."
"What other choice do we have?"
When Chris wakes up, the dream collapses. Down here, Jared's the dreamer, but when the jail on the level above them goes, they'll be jarred awake. Hopefully.
And then they'll run.
"There's still two more down here," Jared says.
"One. I got someone else, a woman, upstairs."
"It's a good thing they weren't sedated," a voice says, and they both whirl around.
"Where the fuck where you hiding?" Jared says unthinkingly,
"Coronet," Jensen says, raising his gun.
Coronet's firearm is already aimed at Jared's head. "We can do this the easy way, or we can-"
"Oh cut the crap," Jensen snarls. "If you think you're getting that information so easily, then you're wrong. Neither one of us wants to end up dead."
"Oh, don't worry, you will, one way or the other. But first," Coronet says, "We have to crack the safe." He smiles sweetly at Jared.
"You don't want to do that," Jensen says. There's a stalemate: three guns, one pointed at Jared, two at Coronet. It's still a risk. "You don't get to wake up from limbo, you know."
"You forget, Ackles, that most of us carry totems. I don't know why the two of you were stuck down there for so long, other than the both of you being damned fools, but there are plenty of ways to kill a man. That's all it takes, just like any other dream."
"The fuck do you know about limbo anyway," Jared mumbles.
"I know enough," Coronet says, and then his eyes widen: the ground begins another upheaval as the waves behind them begin to jump up five, ten feet, crashing against the shore.
"So who'd Gray kill?" Jared says. Coronet freezes.
"Gray?"
"That's the information you want, right?"
"Jared, what the fuck!" Jensen shouts. Jared ignores him.
"His name is Charles Grey. I want him dead just as much as you do, you know that? So there you have it. No safe to crack, man. Nothing hiding in Jensen's subconscious but me, dude."
Coronet stares at Jared, gauging him-no doubt wondering if Jared is lying or not, and now he knows why they wanted to go all the way into his subconscious. He wants to hear it for himself, Leavens' monologue, to know for sure that he's accusing the right man.
But it's enough of a distraction, the name dropping and the lurching of the earth, and while Jared stumbles as the ground tilts under him, Jensen has a firmer foothold. Jared dives for the ground at the exact second that Jensen pulls the trigger.
He misses. Coronet goes down wailing, his leg collapsing underneath him. Jensen stalks over while Jared picks himself up off the ground and says, very quietly, but very sincerely, "I'm sorry," just before he pulls the trigger for the second time, sending Coronet's subconscious tumbling down to limbo.
Meanwhile, all hell is breaking loose.
"If he doesn't wake up before the kick than he's lost!" Jared shouts, scrabbling forward to grip at Jensen's sleeve. Jensen pushes at Jared, nodding.
"Can't do anything about it, go, go!" he says, because the ocean is in an uproar, each wave higher than the last, and Jared grips Jensen's sleeve tightly while they run, unwilling to let go, let Jensen get lost in the water lapping angrily now at their feet.
And then it's as if they hit a brick wall, as if the world had been travelling forward at breakneck speed and then just stopped, which is exactly, Jared knows, what happened. Two levels up, in what they know as the real world, a train has stopped, and Jared lurches backwards just as the world blacks out. He wakes up.
January 17, 2011
Saint-Etienne, France
"I am going to sleep. For days."
Jared's voice is hushed out of some sort of respect for the darkness of the hotel room. Shadows of the bed and dresser are outlined by the dim city lights as it filters through the curtains. They both blink in the light when Jared flips the lamps on.
"You should, too, I mean I know we just napped or whatever but dude, you look like death."
It sort of hangs in the air, both of them realizing how close to death they actually were, and mere hours ago. Chris had the office building pretty much cleared out when the two of them showed up, half-expecting to find an ambush waiting there. It was just Chris though, who clapped them both on the back and told them to go sort their shit out. It made Jensen jumpy, the idea that there was unfinished business of that caliber to be taken care of, but they could deal with it in the morning-Coronet's team would just have to lie low for the night anyway, wait until they could be paid off. Money, as it seems, is important to some people, at least.
"Thanks," Jensen says dryly, and the tension clears.
Jared scrubs at his face for a second and rubs a hand through his hair, then starts emptying his pockets. Wallet, complete with fake ID; room key; a silver key ring that jingles when it hits the edge of the bedspread; and his pocket watch. Jensen feels vaguely guilty knowing that Jared's totem is useless now. He licks his lips, says quietly:
"Do you think he deserved it?"
"I don't know, man. I think that's for you to decide."
Jensen runs a finger over the familiar brass of the pocket watch. "It isn't like limbo was hell or anything," he muses, although he isn't sure how active Coronet's subconscious could really be. He'd spent too much time feeling sorry for himself to really hate the guy.
"I'll let you know what I think, though," Jared says. "He isn't worth wasting your time feeling guilty over."
He has to remind himself that it's the real Jared talking here, not some twisted façade from Jensen's own brain.
"You really are an excellent point man," Jensen muses. He hadn't exactly meant to say it out loud, but the confused look Jared gives him is more amused than anything, so Jensen just shrugs. "You keep your extractor focused on what's important. Moral compass, you know."
Jared smirks. "A-ha. Keep you on the straight and narrow."
"I'm not so sure about straight," Jensen says, and Jared barks out a surprised laugh. Jensen fights down his grin, reaching hesitantly out to touch Jared's bicep, smooth out the fabric there."You always know the true direction, though."
Jared wastes absolutely no time with this, taking Jensen's wrist and yanking the both of them down onto the bed. The second he hits the mattress Jensen wants to sink into it and never leave, because his bones feel so damn heavy. Jared just smiles down at him, something soft and hidden, then starts turning down the sheets, maneuvering Jensen out of the way.
"You could help, here, you know."
"Hey, you're the one who dragged me down here, now you get to deal with it."
"Oh, right, my fault, I forgot," Jared says. He stretches his back and arms and goes back to messing with the sheets-blanket off, comforter on, two pillows. "It's not like I didn't just save your ass from a crazed psycho or anything. You know he actually thought he could get away with it? Please. Me and you are the best fucking team this side of the pond. Depending on which side of the pond we're on."
Jensen nods along. Jared's talking nonsense, but he lets it wash over him anyway, familiar and worn like an old blanket.
"And anyway, we don't have to worry about it anymore, do we? Because you"-he shoves Jensen over-"are going to take me home and introduce me to your cats or whatever. And we're getting a dog. I saw that eye roll, dude. I'm pretty sure you're not going fuckin' anywhere after this."
For the moment it's as if the years awake never happened. The pillows at his back could be the ones Jared created for the window house, the port of their wanderings for their time spent in limbo, time as vivid as any memory. Jensen stops himself from asking if they're dreaming.
"... because, dude, did you even notice?"
Jensen can't hold back his brief smirk, all the warning Jared has before he's muscled swiftly back onto the mattress, a look of open surprise as his shoulders settle themselves back. He freezes there though, hesitant. Jensen shouldn't let it bother him-it was his fault anyway, wasn't it? What had it been, the reason he let Jared ever doubt...?
"Jay," he says, around the guilt lodged in his throat. He knows his face is giving him away, so he tucks his forehead against Jared's collarbone. Breathes in the familiar scent, the warmth of him. Jared's still for another beat, and then his hands come up to rest on Jensen's flanks. His long fingers curve around to bracket Jensen's spine. Guilt sweeps over him again, raw.
Jared says, "Y'all right?" with genuine concern. Concern for Jensen. As if he's the one who deserves to be asked that question. He breathes a low breath into Jared's t-shirt, gathers Jared's hands in his own and settles them back on the comforter. Jared says nothing, just waits. He was always so good at that; waiting. Like a hurricane most of the time, but calm as the eye of the storm when he needs to be.
"Jen?"
"'M okay. 'M just..." He pushes off, fingers tangling briefly with Jared's, and then he settles back against his thighs. "I've been so fucking stupid, man."
"Yeah, well. Can't argue with that." Jared's grinning, but he's holding his breath. Thing is, he's right, and they both know it. You don't just get a clean slate after treating someone like that, not even if that someone is Jared. Especially if that someone is Jared.
After all this time, he second guesses himself. He doesn't deserve this second chance; hell, he doesn't deserve any of this-the restful sleep, the warmth of forgiveness. He underestimates Jared. He underestimates himself. He dares to ask for a re-do, and Jared, grinning wide, no hesitation, grants it.
"I love you," he says. It just drops right out into the air. Jared smiles, reaches up to trace Jensen's cheekbone quickly with the side of his thumb. He drops his hand, still smiling. "I don't know why you don't hate me right now," Jensen admits.
"I never hated you. Tried though. I wanted to hate you so bad. It ain't like I went chasing you down, though, right? And anyway. It was your decision to make."
"I was wrong."
"And now you know."
This is stupid. They're both going to have to face it sooner or later, get under the skin of betrayal where it's raw and hurting. But Jensen knows where Jared is going with this: not right now. It doesn't have to be right now; they can apologize first and deal with the rest later. Jensen doesn't think, just leans down and fits his mouth over Jared's, and it's the first real kiss they've ever shared. It feels warm and soft and exactly like kissing Jared had ever felt, but Jensen buries a hand in Jared's hair and has to hold himself together anyhow.
Jared's mouth opens under his, but there's nothing rushed about it. It's slow and careful, like unfolding a map and remembering an old route.
"Does this count as life-affirming?" Jared murmurs. Jensen pushes up Jared's shirt gently and hums in response, dropping in a kiss onto his chest. Jared's breath stutters underneath him.
They struggle each other out of their shirts, all trace of amusement gone from Jared's expression. Neither one of them wants to move too far away and so it's a bit unclear who unbuttons whose jeans, pushing them down each other's hips, kicking pant legs and boxers off the end of their feet. The room is quiet enough to hear the rustle of skin against skin, dreamlike-but Jensen is acutely aware, down to every nerve in his body, that this is no dream.
Jensen settles himself down between Jared's knees. "Jay," he starts, but Jared pushes his hips up and Jensen has to hiss at the friction.
"Hmm?"
Jensen shakes his head as he rolls his hips downward, and whatever he was going to say is lost in Jared meeting him mid-thrust. Jared's hand comes up to cup the back of Jensen's head and Jensen leans down to suck at his collar bone; up to bite at his lips. The roll of their hips becomes less fluid, more urgent and harder to control-years, it had been years, and Jared's body feels familiar and strange at the same time.
It's the same, really, the aching pressure of his dick and the sharp need for more, but it's everything else that's different: Jensen's body feels more like it has wants of its own, and Jared's hands on him are a surprise wherever they land-his back, his hips, Jared's fingertips greedy for skin.
Jared pants out something that is probably Jensen's name, but half the word is lost in a quiet, choked-off moan that makes Jensen shudder. Jared's hands finally come to a rest at the point of Jensen's hips, pressing his thumbs in. Jensen bucks his hips down roughly and it blurs the edge of his vision. He does it again.
"Fuck," Jared bites out, surprised, "I'm-" and then he comes, knees clenching tighter around Jensen's ribcage. Jensen laughs and Jared reaches between them to grab Jensen in retaliation. The sharp pressure pulls a broken moan out of him and he meets Jared's eyes, thrusting roughly into the hand trapped between them, slick with come and sweat. He looks at Jared and thinks he looks so god damn happy, and then he drops his head onto Jared's shoulder and comes.
He just breathes for a while. Jared's hand comes up to card through his hair, a bit longer now than it was in limbo. Jared has changed too, some of his bulk evened out into lean muscle. Stress, Jensen thinks guiltily, but it's only a quick pang, too bone-tired to let it hold.
Nobody says anything, and soon Jensen shifts to the side, Jared's arm tangled around his neck. They press together up and down their sides and Jared reaches out a long arm to flick off the light on the bedside table. The lamp on the dresser glows, and Jensen knows that they should probably clean up, but they don't.
Jensen waits for Jared's breath to even out in sleep, but he drifts off first, and while his sleep is dreamless, it's the best rest he's had in far too long.
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Jared stares at the ceiling for a long time before he gets out of bed. Jensen is lying beside him on his stomach, the warm length of his side pressing all along Jared's. He watches Jensen's back gently expand with breath for a moment, then reluctantly slides sideways off the bed, scooping up his clothes on the way into the bathroom.
He comes out of the shower with his mind still pleasantly blank, like everything has been wiped clean and all that matters is the soft carpet beneath his feet, the sounds coming from the open window that faces the newer part of the city, Jensen standing casually in front of the low dresser, sipping from one of the hotel-provided coffee mugs. The air smells slightly burnt, as if Jensen had dumped every packet of cheap coffee grounds into the tiny machine all at once.
"What are you drinking?"
"Coffee," Jensen says. His eyes crinkle gently at Jared when he lifts the mug to take a sip. "Spend too much time asleep."
Jared leans over his shoulder and peers into the mug, the coffee thick and swirling with oils. "That's not coffee."
"'S good."
"Okay, but it's not coffee. It's sludge. Toxic sludge."
"Shh," Jensen says into his mug. "Some people like toxic sludge."
Jared ignores him and drops his forehead onto Jensen's shoulder. He doesn't even care that he's getting Jen's t-shirt wet, or that the coffee smells so strong he might lose all sense of smell. Jensen leans a hip against the dresser and Jared leans a hip into Jensen, bracketing him in with his hands on the dresser's edge. Jensen drinks his coffee, eyes locked on the haze over the city.
"What should we do today?" he says.
Jared sighs so heavily that his whole body moves. Jensen laughs softly, which is something Jared can feel reverberate through his body where it's pressed against Jensen, which is something Jared childishly feels like he needs to grab onto and never let go.
"I think we should go home," he answers.
He doesn't mean limbo. Home could mean anywhere at this moment, but that isn't exactly what Jared means, and he knows that Jensen knows it, too. We should start over. We should pick up where we left off. We should continue right on with what we're doing. It all means the same thing, and that's the two of them together, out here in the real world.
It sounds impossible. After-after everything, can they still have that?
He has spent two years convincing himself that, if he were ever to see Jensen look him in the eye again, Jared would be able and willing to let go. Jensen wanted out, and he was going to get what he wanted the second time around, because he turned his back on Jared once and he wasn't going to get a chance to do it again.
But he thinks, for a second, that maybe they can build something together again, this time nothing that takes shape or form-something like a life. There are years of heartache that Jared knows will catch up to him, and when he thinks about what Jensen has been through he knows it's almost going to be worse, for him. Jared takes a deep breath, knowing for certain that the things Jensen gave up-Danneel, his secrets, the carefully constructed life Jensen had once made out of the ruins of another-will make it hard for Jared to even convince himself that they're better together.
But Jensen is smiling at him sleepily over the rim of his mug, chipped on the corner, imperfect like nothing in limbo ever was, and Jared knows in this instant, what they both want is here in this room. Right here, right now. And no matter how hard they might pinch themselves, they're not waking up.
June 12, 2011
Los Angeles, California
Jensen thinks he still has sand in his hair. He rubs his hand through it casually. Yep, still sand. Real beaches are a lot messier than dream beaches, which hadn't stopped Danneel from looking horrified when he told her how much time he had spent sleeping on them, both the real ones and the imagined ones.
Although the real beaches were usually an accident. Sometimes he forgot himself.
Jensen digs a hand into his pocket and closes his fingers around the small compass there-the one that points exactly north, just like it should. Unless, of course, Jensen is dreaming, in which case it tells him adamantly that 'north' lies on the southeast half-cardinal line.
Sure, Jared's totem had worked against him, but these days, Jensen was having a hard time trusting his dreams, even if Jared-the real Jared-was in them.
"Seriously! You two could be mistaken for hobos. Beach rats, that's what you are!"
"Thanks, Danni," Jensen laughs, rolling his eyes.
"It's nice, though," she admits. "This means I can come stay with you any time I want, right? Laze around in the sun all day on the beach? Or will that disturb your sleep?"
"If you want to come down here and roll around in the sand getting a sunburn, that's fine by me, but you're getting the spare bedroom."
"You don't have a spare bedroom."
"I mean the blanket we have down on the beach, next to the hobos."
Danneel is looking at Jensen like he has three heads. He just grins at her, liking the way she answers it with an eye-roll, a quirk of the lips.
"You've been a bad influence on him, Jared. I'm terrified. No, really."
Seeing Danneel again had felt like being dropped back into center. Jensen will never know another person like he knows Jared, will never have another person walk into a nightmare with him and come out on the other side, loving him anyway. But spending the afternoon with her had felt like closure, better than any apology he could have tried to articulate. Watching her with Jared had felt like benediction.
He leans in close when he hugs her goodbye, kisses her cheek. Danneel smiles softly, just for him, and he doesn't want to let her go back to New York, across the country. Funny how he hardly ever minded being separated by time, but distance was like a thorn in his side, always throbbing, too painful to remove.
"Jensen? Be happy, okay? I'm keeping tabs on you. I'm not doing this for me, you know."
"I know," Jensen says, surprised at how little it hurts. At how much he loves her in this moment.
"Don't you boys stay up too late, all right?" she says, stepping out the door as Jared calls out from behind him, "Can't promise you anything!"
Jensen can only roll his eyes. How his life came to this, he has no idea. He suspects it has something to do with the unstoppable force that is Jared Padalecki, and just smiles apologetically at Danneel as he shuts the door behind her, laughing.
Jared's smiling quietly when he turns back around, arm slung casually over the back of the couch. Jensen looks back-just looks, and not because he can, but because Jared's smile is something shared between them. Jensen looks because he wants to.
"So," he says after a long moment, pushing away from the door; he crosses carefully in front of the couch because he knows that if he takes the invitation Jared's arm is opening up for him, he'll never make it to bed. "Where should we go tonight?"
Jared stretches when he stands, but his yawn covers up a grin. "I dunno, what do you think?" He follows Jensen into the bedroom, sits on the bed. Jensen fiddles with the latches on the PASIV at the foot of the bed for a second, thinking, then flips it open.
"Y'know, there's this little place I dreamed about once. Big house, glass walls."
"Yeah?" Jared sits cross-legged on the edge of the bed, grinning up at him.
"Yeah." Jensen kneels onto the mattress next to Jared; watches his face closely when he inserts the needle into the soft skin on the inside of Jared's elbow. Jared doesn't flinch.
"Sounds nice." Jared says, lying back.
Eight hours. That gives them four days. Three nights on the beach, if they want. It's not the same ocean; it never will be again. But it's more than Jensen could have asked for. And he knows, without a doubt, that they'll wake up safe. Jared will sleepily pull the tubes out of their arms and slip his arm up under Jensen's t-shirt to sleep, unaided, for another five minutes, another half an hour, as long as he wants. There's a whole world outside the window. Jensen wants to belong in it.
fin
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Author's Notes
ART! and Soundtrack!
Masterpost