Home Is Where the Heart Is (But What A Shame Everyone's Heart Doesn't Beat The Same) - Chapter 4B
“So, the goods that we are carrying to Quinto have been marked by the Alliance?” Steve plopped down into his pilot’s chair, foot accidentally hitting the leg of the navigation panel and jostling his dinosaur figurines.
“According to Sheppard they have,” Jensen nodded, “If Quinto tries to unload them, he’ll be crawling with Alliance soldiers.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Chris looked from Steve to Jensen to Annie. “Better him than us.”
“Except where he evades arrest and comes gunning for us,” Annie explained grimly. “Ain’t seen too many people come out on the right side of good once he got a hold of them. Last person who botched a job went missing for three days and when he was found, his crew was able to ship his body home in a vegetable crate.”
Chris and Steve blanched.
“And that was his nephew,” Jensen added.
Steve turned from white to green. “Remind me again why we’re working for this guy.”
Jensen shrugged. “It was a simple job and Quinto paid half up front.”
“Right,” Steve reached over and righted the stegosaurus that had fallen over. “So, what’s the plan?”
“We need a job,” Jensen paced the room. “Something quick with a decent payout. Then we head to some of the more rustic Rim planets and see about unloading those marked crates. If we’re lucky, we can get enough to pay back the advance that Quinto gave us for that job and if we’re really lucky, he won’t torture us for failing to deliver.”
Chris shifted on his feet. “I know a way we can get a cargo hold full of coin in a hurry with little effort.”
“How’s that?” Jensen turned curious eyes on the stocky man.
“Thems Flynn boys have a might decent reward on their heads. Enough to see us all into old age,” Chris reasoned. “It’d only take one call and we’d be knee deep in gold before you could say psycho psychic.”
“No,” Jensen responded without consideration.
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“You heard him,” Annie’s posture changed slightly, her muscles tensing and her shoulders squaring. “The captain ain’t prone to stuttering.”
“This ain’t just about him, though,” Chris protested, face flushing in his anger. “I’m being practical. Quinto’s gonna be coming for all of us. If it’s a choice between my neck or those of a couple of Core brats…” He trailed off.
“No,” Jensen repeated.
“Just because you’re trying to separate Jared from his gorram (goddamn) pants, don’t mean we all gotta suffer Quinto’s blade,” Chris yelled.
“Chris, you’re talking outta turn,” Steve admonished. “Jen would never risk the crew.”
“Then why else would he care? They ain’t nothin’ to him! Milo lies as easy as breathing and there’s something not right about Jared. I think they’re both touched in the head.”
“And you’re not?!” Annie spat.
“Why, Jensen?” Chris turned to him, “What is it about him?”
“I gave my word,” Jensen said, lowly, evenly. “I promised them refuge and that’s what I’m aiming to give ‘em.”
“Who cares if you gave ‘em your word? Talk is cheap and their pretty, tight asses are worth a lot.”
“I care,” Jensen seethed, his temper getting the best of him before he could rein it in. “If a man ain’t got his word, he ain’t got nothin’. I may be a smuggler and a thief, but my word is gold.”
“But…”
“This ain’t up for any more discussion.” Jensen raised a hand to halt Chris’ argument. “There’ll be no selling out of Jared and Milo. If y’all have another idea, I’m all ears. Otherwise, we all have jobs to do and we need to see to ‘em.”
Nodding, Steve turned around in his chair, scanning the read-outs. Annie stood and, reluctantly, Chris followed her.
“Chris?” Jensen stopped him as he approached the doorway. “I’ll be monitoring outgoing communications. I’d hate to find something I’m not looking for.”
Chris’s eyes tightened and he gave a curt nod, stepping into the hallway. Jensen sighed and stared out the window at the black void of space. “Well, that was a whole heap of unpleasantness.”
Steve snorted and fiddled with a few of the dials, keeping Persephone on the most direct course to Ariel.
****
Jensen walked into the dining room, a pleasant scent lulling him there just as it had that morning. Milo and Jared were moving around each other in a fluid grace in the kitchen while Annie, Misha and Alona set the table. Chris had been scarce since their row earlier that day, preferring to lick his wounds in his and Steve’s bunk. Jensen considered it a mixed blessing, knowing that if they had another run-in before they both could cool down, it would escalate rapidly.
Smiling at everyone, Jensen took in Jared. He was still subdued, hesitant and a little shaky on his feet, but there was a healthy flush to his skin and a tentative smile danced along his lips. Jensen couldn’t deny that the kid was gorgeous, but there was a hurt there just beneath the surface that he longed to erase. Even if he’d agreed with Chris’s reasoning, he knew he could never turn Jared in. Not when everything inside him was screaming for him to protect Jared.
There was a loud clap and Steve appeared from the direction of the bridge. “Sophia got off safely. She’s meeting that regular on Arachne then she’ll rendezvous with us on Ariel.”
“Which one is on Arachne?” Jensen asked, sauntering over to the kitchen to peer around Jared’s shoulder at the bubbling concoction on the stove. Jared shifted a small bit, causing his arm to rub slightly against Jensen’s chest. Jensen jerked back from the younger man, his eyes catching on Misha’s quirked eyebrow. The preacher’s eyes practically flashing ‘special hell’ in electric blue. He cleared his throat lightly and moved to the other side of the counter, putting a respectful distance between him and Jared.
“The land baron,” Alona paused from placing silverware by each plate and rested her forearms on the back of the chair in front of her. “The one that bought her that slinky red dress.” She smoothed a hand down her hips to accentuate her meaning. She sighed, her gaze distant. “It must be so glamorous being a Companion. Rich, handsome people taking you to nice meals and giving you pretty gifts.”
Jensen harrumphed, rolling his eyes. “If you can stomach what they want you to give ‘em in return.”
Jensen and Alona continued to discuss the pros and cons of the Companion lifestyle, Annie taking the remaining silverware from the mechanic before her emphatic gesticulating sent them flying to the floor. Misha, smiling fondly at the two, came back over to the kitchen searching for glasses and noticed Jared staring unblinkingly into the pot he was stirring.
“Are you alright, Jared?” He stepped up to the young man.
Jared startled, the spoon he was using clanking loudly against the metal pot. “Um, yeah,” Jared smiled slightly, “Just a little lost in thought, I guess.”
Misha peered at Jared, considering. “Are you sure?”
Jared dipped his head, bangs falling forward to obscure his eyes and the pink tint to his cheeks. His head darted back and forth, checking the distance to those around them. “C-can…can I ask you sssomething, p-preacher?” He whispered.
“Of course.” Misha stepped closer, understanding that Jared wished their conversation to be kept between them.
“D-does it bother you? S-Sophia doing what she does?” Jared asked softly.
“Why would it?”
Jared turned wide, surprised eyes toward the holy man. “You don’t believe she’s wicked? Her s-s-soul doomed to hellfire and brimstone?”
Misha deliberated for a moment, studying the young man. “No, Jared, I don’t. Do you?”
Jared dropped his gaze back to his cooking. Licking his lips, he shook his head slowly from side to side. “No, not her.”
“Why are you ask…” Misha’s question was cut off by a loud cry.
Jared and Misha turned to see Chris sprawled across the floor with Milo kneeling on his chest, a large knife glinting menacingly in his right hand. Furniture scraped and surprise calls echoed in the air as the rest of the crew recovered from the sudden turn of events.
“Milo,” Jensen called, his voice dipping in authority and Jared felt his knees try to fold of their own accord. “Get off him.”
Milo leaned over Chris’s head. “I know what you wanted to do,” he hissed. He drew the knife across Chris’s chest, a red line springing up in its wake. He pressed the honed edge to Chris’s throat. “How would you like me to decide between our necks and yours?”
Chris’s eyes went wide at his words twisted and thrown back to him. “I - I.”
The knife pressed down harder, enough to indent the skin but not break it. Milo’s eyes narrowed, intent clear in the brown depths.
“Milo,” Jensen warned, the sound of his gun cocking loud in the room.
Milo tilted his head toward Jensen, eyes never wavering from the supine man beneath him. “You know what he wanted to do to us,” he grit out. “To Jared.” Hate glittered in Milo’s eyes, backlit by an inner rage.
Things were tense, Milo’s steady hand holding the knife threateningly against Chris’s skin and Jensen and Annie’s level grip training their guns unerringly at Milo’s head. It was a stand-off, nobody dared to move, barely breathed for fear of unleashing the promised hell.
“Milo,” the voice was soft, but held a confident authority that no one that heard in it before. “Don’t.”
The knife jerked back, creating a minute amount of space between the sharp edge and tender skin. A whisper of wind shifted between them and raised goose flesh on Chris’s sweaty throat. Milo’s eyes shut and his jaw tensed. “Jared, you don’t know.”
Jared moved through the frozen people standing witness and placed his hand on Milo’s shoulder, thumb grazing a slow arch over the phoenix tattoo inked there. “Let him go,” he said calmly.
“Fen?”
Using gentle pressure, Jared turned his twin toward him. He cupped Milo’s face in his large hands and pressed their foreheads together. “Gēgē (brother), it’s all right.” Milo’s body relaxed slightly and Jared let his hand drift down to remove the knife from his brother’s slack grip. The two men stared at each other in silence and Jensen got the distinct impression there was some internal conversation going on.
Milo nodded his head and slowly got off Chris, a feigned kick to the ribs causing the older man to flinch. Refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, Milo quietly left the dining room, headed in the direction of the passenger quarters.
Jared looked around at the stunned crew and bowed his head slightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“Jared,” Jensen stepped forward, “It’s okay.”
“The hell it is!” Chris roared, one hand pressed to his still bleeding chest. “Jen, you can’t allow that kuang (madman) to run loose on this ship. He deserves for the Alliance to have him.” Jensen noticed Jared start trembling at Chris’s words. “He pert near did me in.” Chris showed him his red slicked palm.
Jensen moved closer to Jared, hands itching to comfort, to soothe Jared’s obviously frayed nerves. “You’ll want to step carefully or next time I might be inclined to let him finish the job.”
“You’re bleeding.” The same soft voice, but without the confidence it held earlier. Jared pointed at the freely bleeding slash across Chris’s chest. “I-I can stitch that for you.” Jared’s eyes flew to the ground, the tip of his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. “If you want.”
Chris glared at the young man. “Ain’t like I got much choice. You and that xīnlǐ (psycho) brother of yours are the docs and seeing hows he’s the one that did the bleedin’, you should be the one to do the fixin’.”
Jared nodded his head and quietly exited the dining room, headed for the Infirmary. Chris grimaced as he made his way to his feet, Jensen coming up beside him with a helping hand hooked under his arm. “Here, I’ll escort you.”
*****
Chris lay back on the exam table, squinting against the light overhead. “You know what you’re doing, right? The medical part of your brain ain’t still in the deep freeze, is it?”
“I’m more than capable,” Jared said lowly, opening drawers and rifling through the contents to find what he needed. He set his supplies down on a small rolling table and moved it closer to the supine man. “If you’d prefer, I could go get that xīnlǐ (psycho) brother of mine to stitch you up.”
Jensen turned his head slightly to the side to hide his smirk. It was the first time he’d seen any type of personality from Jared, other than the submissive one that seemed most predominant, and if Jensen was being honest with himself…he really liked this side of Jared.
“Fuck no!” Chris protested, hissing when Jared swiped a swab soaked in anti-septic over the open wound. “Just be careful.”
“Yes, Jared” Jensen grinned, leaning against the wall, “be careful. We can’t have an unsightly scar mussing all that prettiness.” He winked at Jared and was rewarded with the slightest upturn of a smile. Jensen watched as Jared threaded the needle and bent over Chris’s form. Jared’s shoulders rose and fell on a deep breath and Jensen watched the shakiness that had been plaguing the other man’s hands since his removal from the crate slip away. Here Jared was in his element, comfortable in his own skin - for the first time since he’d been on board and probably, Jensen would guess, the first time in a long time.
Chris winced as the needle pierced skin. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Ain’t you gonna give me something to numb the pain?”
Jared’s eyes flicked up to Chris and his hand stilled. “The supplies are low and should only be used for serious wounds. I figured a strong, strapping man like yourself would have no problem with a couple dozen stitches. If I was wrong, I could get you something.”
Chris chest puffed out and he grimaced when the motion pulled at the edges of his cut. “I’m good. You can finish.”
“As you wish.” Jared ducked his head and Jensen could swear he saw a genuine smile hidden behind Jared’s bangs. Jared worked in silence, each stitch small and neat, completed with the exacting precision of the truly skilled. Jensen wondered how much training Jared had received before his life was decided for him.
“Your brother always been a little bats in the belfry?” Chris asked; pulling Jensen from his hypnotized state as he watched Jared’s fingers deftly create a line of tight, even sutures.
Jared’s progress stopped as he looked at the man again. “Yes.” Jared tied off the last stitch and smoothed a bandage over his work. “I’ll check them in a few days and see if they’ll be ready for removal.”
Chris rubbed his hand over the white bandage and considered Jared grudgingly. “You done good work. Just keep a leash on your butcher brother.”
Jared dipped his head in a nod and began cleaning up the instruments and trash. Chris grabbed the tattered remains of his shirt and got off the table. Walking past Jensen, he held out the now worthless scrap of cloth. “My favorite shirt!”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to go on,” Jensen clapped him on the back. “Go up to the dining room. I’m sure Steve made them leave you some.”
*****
Jared concentrated on putting away the unused items and setting the forceps and needle in the sanitizer, listening to Chris’s heavy footfalls going up the ladder to the dining room. He could feel Jensen’s gaze on his back like a warm weight and his body flushed. The crew of the Persephone kept the ship entirely too warm.
“Jared, about Milo,” Jensen began, wondering what was the best track to take.
Jared pressed his palms to the metal counter in front of him. “I was always the weak one growing up,” Jared whispered, staring at the patch of stainless steel between his splayed hands. “Too emotional, too sensitive, easily manipulated, easily exploited.” He shook his head and Jensen moved closer to hear him better. “My father used to say that if I insisted on wearing my heart on my sleeve that I deserved it when someone stabbed me in it. Milo was the strong one. He was always there protecting me, defending me against bullies, classmates…our family. It’s instinct, ingrained. He perceives that I’m in danger and his first reaction is to nullify that threat. I’m sorry that he hurt one of your crew, but I believe in my heart that he had a good reason.”
Jensen closed his eyes, Jared couldn’t be more right.
“If you want us off your ship, I understand.” Jared’s head hung low between his slumped shoulders.
“I don’t want you off, but Milo is going to have to learn to corral this protective side some. I have to look out for the safety of my crew and as much as it pains me to admit that Chris is right, I can’t have Milo attacking them.”
Jared nodded. “I’ll talk to him. I can’t promise that it won’t happen again, but you have my word that I will do everything I can to prevent it.”
“That’s all I can ask.” Jensen reached out and took a chance, gently wrapping his fingers around Jared’s forearm. He jolted slightly at the shock when their skin touched, but didn’t release his hold. “I’m sure there is some food left. Why don’t we go and see what we can wrangle up?”
Jared’s whole body felt like he’d been dipped in boiling water, skin prickling at the intense heat as something thick and molten settled low in his stomach. His body pulsated with an insistent thrum that sped up his heart and breathing. His shoulder gave another painful throb. “I - I’ll be up in a m-minute,” he tried not to pant, his back still to Jensen. “Y-you go ahead.”
Jensen noted the return of the stutter and his heart sunk. He’d really hoped that they’d progressed past the nervousness that Jared seemed taken by whenever they talked. “Okay, Jared.” Jensen squeezed the muscled limb and let go. At the door, he turned back around. “For what it’s worth? I don’t think you’re weak.”
Jared heard Jensen leave the room and ascend the stairs. He let out a deep sigh, his body still aflame. Fanning himself with his hand, he started toward his quarters. He needed to find something cooler to wear.
“According to Sheppard they have,” Jensen nodded, “If Quinto tries to unload them, he’ll be crawling with Alliance soldiers.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Chris looked from Steve to Jensen to Annie. “Better him than us.”
“Except where he evades arrest and comes gunning for us,” Annie explained grimly. “Ain’t seen too many people come out on the right side of good once he got a hold of them. Last person who botched a job went missing for three days and when he was found, his crew was able to ship his body home in a vegetable crate.”
Chris and Steve blanched.
“And that was his nephew,” Jensen added.
Steve turned from white to green. “Remind me again why we’re working for this guy.”
Jensen shrugged. “It was a simple job and Quinto paid half up front.”
“Right,” Steve reached over and righted the stegosaurus that had fallen over. “So, what’s the plan?”
“We need a job,” Jensen paced the room. “Something quick with a decent payout. Then we head to some of the more rustic Rim planets and see about unloading those marked crates. If we’re lucky, we can get enough to pay back the advance that Quinto gave us for that job and if we’re really lucky, he won’t torture us for failing to deliver.”
Chris shifted on his feet. “I know a way we can get a cargo hold full of coin in a hurry with little effort.”
“How’s that?” Jensen turned curious eyes on the stocky man.
“Thems Flynn boys have a might decent reward on their heads. Enough to see us all into old age,” Chris reasoned. “It’d only take one call and we’d be knee deep in gold before you could say psycho psychic.”
“No,” Jensen responded without consideration.
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“You heard him,” Annie’s posture changed slightly, her muscles tensing and her shoulders squaring. “The captain ain’t prone to stuttering.”
“This ain’t just about him, though,” Chris protested, face flushing in his anger. “I’m being practical. Quinto’s gonna be coming for all of us. If it’s a choice between my neck or those of a couple of Core brats…” He trailed off.
“No,” Jensen repeated.
“Just because you’re trying to separate Jared from his gorram (goddamn) pants, don’t mean we all gotta suffer Quinto’s blade,” Chris yelled.
“Chris, you’re talking outta turn,” Steve admonished. “Jen would never risk the crew.”
“Then why else would he care? They ain’t nothin’ to him! Milo lies as easy as breathing and there’s something not right about Jared. I think they’re both touched in the head.”
“And you’re not?!” Annie spat.
“Why, Jensen?” Chris turned to him, “What is it about him?”
“I gave my word,” Jensen said, lowly, evenly. “I promised them refuge and that’s what I’m aiming to give ‘em.”
“Who cares if you gave ‘em your word? Talk is cheap and their pretty, tight asses are worth a lot.”
“I care,” Jensen seethed, his temper getting the best of him before he could rein it in. “If a man ain’t got his word, he ain’t got nothin’. I may be a smuggler and a thief, but my word is gold.”
“But…”
“This ain’t up for any more discussion.” Jensen raised a hand to halt Chris’ argument. “There’ll be no selling out of Jared and Milo. If y’all have another idea, I’m all ears. Otherwise, we all have jobs to do and we need to see to ‘em.”
Nodding, Steve turned around in his chair, scanning the read-outs. Annie stood and, reluctantly, Chris followed her.
“Chris?” Jensen stopped him as he approached the doorway. “I’ll be monitoring outgoing communications. I’d hate to find something I’m not looking for.”
Chris’s eyes tightened and he gave a curt nod, stepping into the hallway. Jensen sighed and stared out the window at the black void of space. “Well, that was a whole heap of unpleasantness.”
Steve snorted and fiddled with a few of the dials, keeping Persephone on the most direct course to Ariel.
****
Jensen walked into the dining room, a pleasant scent lulling him there just as it had that morning. Milo and Jared were moving around each other in a fluid grace in the kitchen while Annie, Misha and Alona set the table. Chris had been scarce since their row earlier that day, preferring to lick his wounds in his and Steve’s bunk. Jensen considered it a mixed blessing, knowing that if they had another run-in before they both could cool down, it would escalate rapidly.
Smiling at everyone, Jensen took in Jared. He was still subdued, hesitant and a little shaky on his feet, but there was a healthy flush to his skin and a tentative smile danced along his lips. Jensen couldn’t deny that the kid was gorgeous, but there was a hurt there just beneath the surface that he longed to erase. Even if he’d agreed with Chris’s reasoning, he knew he could never turn Jared in. Not when everything inside him was screaming for him to protect Jared.
There was a loud clap and Steve appeared from the direction of the bridge. “Sophia got off safely. She’s meeting that regular on Arachne then she’ll rendezvous with us on Ariel.”
“Which one is on Arachne?” Jensen asked, sauntering over to the kitchen to peer around Jared’s shoulder at the bubbling concoction on the stove. Jared shifted a small bit, causing his arm to rub slightly against Jensen’s chest. Jensen jerked back from the younger man, his eyes catching on Misha’s quirked eyebrow. The preacher’s eyes practically flashing ‘special hell’ in electric blue. He cleared his throat lightly and moved to the other side of the counter, putting a respectful distance between him and Jared.
“The land baron,” Alona paused from placing silverware by each plate and rested her forearms on the back of the chair in front of her. “The one that bought her that slinky red dress.” She smoothed a hand down her hips to accentuate her meaning. She sighed, her gaze distant. “It must be so glamorous being a Companion. Rich, handsome people taking you to nice meals and giving you pretty gifts.”
Jensen harrumphed, rolling his eyes. “If you can stomach what they want you to give ‘em in return.”
Jensen and Alona continued to discuss the pros and cons of the Companion lifestyle, Annie taking the remaining silverware from the mechanic before her emphatic gesticulating sent them flying to the floor. Misha, smiling fondly at the two, came back over to the kitchen searching for glasses and noticed Jared staring unblinkingly into the pot he was stirring.
“Are you alright, Jared?” He stepped up to the young man.
Jared startled, the spoon he was using clanking loudly against the metal pot. “Um, yeah,” Jared smiled slightly, “Just a little lost in thought, I guess.”
Misha peered at Jared, considering. “Are you sure?”
Jared dipped his head, bangs falling forward to obscure his eyes and the pink tint to his cheeks. His head darted back and forth, checking the distance to those around them. “C-can…can I ask you sssomething, p-preacher?” He whispered.
“Of course.” Misha stepped closer, understanding that Jared wished their conversation to be kept between them.
“D-does it bother you? S-Sophia doing what she does?” Jared asked softly.
“Why would it?”
Jared turned wide, surprised eyes toward the holy man. “You don’t believe she’s wicked? Her s-s-soul doomed to hellfire and brimstone?”
Misha deliberated for a moment, studying the young man. “No, Jared, I don’t. Do you?”
Jared dropped his gaze back to his cooking. Licking his lips, he shook his head slowly from side to side. “No, not her.”
“Why are you ask…” Misha’s question was cut off by a loud cry.
Jared and Misha turned to see Chris sprawled across the floor with Milo kneeling on his chest, a large knife glinting menacingly in his right hand. Furniture scraped and surprise calls echoed in the air as the rest of the crew recovered from the sudden turn of events.
“Milo,” Jensen called, his voice dipping in authority and Jared felt his knees try to fold of their own accord. “Get off him.”
Milo leaned over Chris’s head. “I know what you wanted to do,” he hissed. He drew the knife across Chris’s chest, a red line springing up in its wake. He pressed the honed edge to Chris’s throat. “How would you like me to decide between our necks and yours?”
Chris’s eyes went wide at his words twisted and thrown back to him. “I - I.”
The knife pressed down harder, enough to indent the skin but not break it. Milo’s eyes narrowed, intent clear in the brown depths.
“Milo,” Jensen warned, the sound of his gun cocking loud in the room.
Milo tilted his head toward Jensen, eyes never wavering from the supine man beneath him. “You know what he wanted to do to us,” he grit out. “To Jared.” Hate glittered in Milo’s eyes, backlit by an inner rage.
Things were tense, Milo’s steady hand holding the knife threateningly against Chris’s skin and Jensen and Annie’s level grip training their guns unerringly at Milo’s head. It was a stand-off, nobody dared to move, barely breathed for fear of unleashing the promised hell.
“Milo,” the voice was soft, but held a confident authority that no one that heard in it before. “Don’t.”
The knife jerked back, creating a minute amount of space between the sharp edge and tender skin. A whisper of wind shifted between them and raised goose flesh on Chris’s sweaty throat. Milo’s eyes shut and his jaw tensed. “Jared, you don’t know.”
Jared moved through the frozen people standing witness and placed his hand on Milo’s shoulder, thumb grazing a slow arch over the phoenix tattoo inked there. “Let him go,” he said calmly.
“Fen?”
Using gentle pressure, Jared turned his twin toward him. He cupped Milo’s face in his large hands and pressed their foreheads together. “Gēgē (brother), it’s all right.” Milo’s body relaxed slightly and Jared let his hand drift down to remove the knife from his brother’s slack grip. The two men stared at each other in silence and Jensen got the distinct impression there was some internal conversation going on.
Milo nodded his head and slowly got off Chris, a feigned kick to the ribs causing the older man to flinch. Refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, Milo quietly left the dining room, headed in the direction of the passenger quarters.
Jared looked around at the stunned crew and bowed his head slightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“Jared,” Jensen stepped forward, “It’s okay.”
“The hell it is!” Chris roared, one hand pressed to his still bleeding chest. “Jen, you can’t allow that kuang (madman) to run loose on this ship. He deserves for the Alliance to have him.” Jensen noticed Jared start trembling at Chris’s words. “He pert near did me in.” Chris showed him his red slicked palm.
Jensen moved closer to Jared, hands itching to comfort, to soothe Jared’s obviously frayed nerves. “You’ll want to step carefully or next time I might be inclined to let him finish the job.”
“You’re bleeding.” The same soft voice, but without the confidence it held earlier. Jared pointed at the freely bleeding slash across Chris’s chest. “I-I can stitch that for you.” Jared’s eyes flew to the ground, the tip of his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. “If you want.”
Chris glared at the young man. “Ain’t like I got much choice. You and that xīnlǐ (psycho) brother of yours are the docs and seeing hows he’s the one that did the bleedin’, you should be the one to do the fixin’.”
Jared nodded his head and quietly exited the dining room, headed for the Infirmary. Chris grimaced as he made his way to his feet, Jensen coming up beside him with a helping hand hooked under his arm. “Here, I’ll escort you.”
*****
Chris lay back on the exam table, squinting against the light overhead. “You know what you’re doing, right? The medical part of your brain ain’t still in the deep freeze, is it?”
“I’m more than capable,” Jared said lowly, opening drawers and rifling through the contents to find what he needed. He set his supplies down on a small rolling table and moved it closer to the supine man. “If you’d prefer, I could go get that xīnlǐ (psycho) brother of mine to stitch you up.”
Jensen turned his head slightly to the side to hide his smirk. It was the first time he’d seen any type of personality from Jared, other than the submissive one that seemed most predominant, and if Jensen was being honest with himself…he really liked this side of Jared.
“Fuck no!” Chris protested, hissing when Jared swiped a swab soaked in anti-septic over the open wound. “Just be careful.”
“Yes, Jared” Jensen grinned, leaning against the wall, “be careful. We can’t have an unsightly scar mussing all that prettiness.” He winked at Jared and was rewarded with the slightest upturn of a smile. Jensen watched as Jared threaded the needle and bent over Chris’s form. Jared’s shoulders rose and fell on a deep breath and Jensen watched the shakiness that had been plaguing the other man’s hands since his removal from the crate slip away. Here Jared was in his element, comfortable in his own skin - for the first time since he’d been on board and probably, Jensen would guess, the first time in a long time.
Chris winced as the needle pierced skin. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Ain’t you gonna give me something to numb the pain?”
Jared’s eyes flicked up to Chris and his hand stilled. “The supplies are low and should only be used for serious wounds. I figured a strong, strapping man like yourself would have no problem with a couple dozen stitches. If I was wrong, I could get you something.”
Chris chest puffed out and he grimaced when the motion pulled at the edges of his cut. “I’m good. You can finish.”
“As you wish.” Jared ducked his head and Jensen could swear he saw a genuine smile hidden behind Jared’s bangs. Jared worked in silence, each stitch small and neat, completed with the exacting precision of the truly skilled. Jensen wondered how much training Jared had received before his life was decided for him.
“Your brother always been a little bats in the belfry?” Chris asked; pulling Jensen from his hypnotized state as he watched Jared’s fingers deftly create a line of tight, even sutures.
Jared’s progress stopped as he looked at the man again. “Yes.” Jared tied off the last stitch and smoothed a bandage over his work. “I’ll check them in a few days and see if they’ll be ready for removal.”
Chris rubbed his hand over the white bandage and considered Jared grudgingly. “You done good work. Just keep a leash on your butcher brother.”
Jared dipped his head in a nod and began cleaning up the instruments and trash. Chris grabbed the tattered remains of his shirt and got off the table. Walking past Jensen, he held out the now worthless scrap of cloth. “My favorite shirt!”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to go on,” Jensen clapped him on the back. “Go up to the dining room. I’m sure Steve made them leave you some.”
*****
Jared concentrated on putting away the unused items and setting the forceps and needle in the sanitizer, listening to Chris’s heavy footfalls going up the ladder to the dining room. He could feel Jensen’s gaze on his back like a warm weight and his body flushed. The crew of the Persephone kept the ship entirely too warm.
“Jared, about Milo,” Jensen began, wondering what was the best track to take.
Jared pressed his palms to the metal counter in front of him. “I was always the weak one growing up,” Jared whispered, staring at the patch of stainless steel between his splayed hands. “Too emotional, too sensitive, easily manipulated, easily exploited.” He shook his head and Jensen moved closer to hear him better. “My father used to say that if I insisted on wearing my heart on my sleeve that I deserved it when someone stabbed me in it. Milo was the strong one. He was always there protecting me, defending me against bullies, classmates…our family. It’s instinct, ingrained. He perceives that I’m in danger and his first reaction is to nullify that threat. I’m sorry that he hurt one of your crew, but I believe in my heart that he had a good reason.”
Jensen closed his eyes, Jared couldn’t be more right.
“If you want us off your ship, I understand.” Jared’s head hung low between his slumped shoulders.
“I don’t want you off, but Milo is going to have to learn to corral this protective side some. I have to look out for the safety of my crew and as much as it pains me to admit that Chris is right, I can’t have Milo attacking them.”
Jared nodded. “I’ll talk to him. I can’t promise that it won’t happen again, but you have my word that I will do everything I can to prevent it.”
“That’s all I can ask.” Jensen reached out and took a chance, gently wrapping his fingers around Jared’s forearm. He jolted slightly at the shock when their skin touched, but didn’t release his hold. “I’m sure there is some food left. Why don’t we go and see what we can wrangle up?”
Jared’s whole body felt like he’d been dipped in boiling water, skin prickling at the intense heat as something thick and molten settled low in his stomach. His body pulsated with an insistent thrum that sped up his heart and breathing. His shoulder gave another painful throb. “I - I’ll be up in a m-minute,” he tried not to pant, his back still to Jensen. “Y-you go ahead.”
Jensen noted the return of the stutter and his heart sunk. He’d really hoped that they’d progressed past the nervousness that Jared seemed taken by whenever they talked. “Okay, Jared.” Jensen squeezed the muscled limb and let go. At the door, he turned back around. “For what it’s worth? I don’t think you’re weak.”
Jared heard Jensen leave the room and ascend the stairs. He let out a deep sigh, his body still aflame. Fanning himself with his hand, he started toward his quarters. He needed to find something cooler to wear.