If You're Out There | Part One | (2/8)
Master Post | Prologue | o1 | o2 | o3 | o4 | o5 | o6 | Epilogue
Part One
We’ve been looking for the world to change. If you feel the same, then go ahead and say.
The bus tires hit a pothole in the old freeway cutting through miles of flat Texas terrain, and Jensen blinks awake. Mackenzie is snuggled closely by his side, hasn't been more than a foot away from him since they left home, and Jensen can tell she's terrified. He doesn't blame her; he is too. He did his best to explain to her exactly why they left and where they were going, but he doesn't know how much she understood, how much had been lost in translation. He isn't quite sure what to expect from all of this himself but knows it's better than staying at home. He doesn't know what he'd do if anything ever happened to Mackenzie because he was too afraid to leave when they had the chance.
Clusters of lights catch Jensen's eye as they pass by the windows, and he looks out to see a sign for Waco's city limits pass by. The bus exits the highway, pulling into an old truck stop where the parking lot is cracked and a few men wearing shirts with the sleeves cut off mingle outside the front door smoking cigarettes. It gives Jensen a craving to reach for the nearly empty pack in his bag, but he stops himself; he doesn't want Mackenzie to see him smoking.
He pulls his eyes away from the men and sees the bus driver grab the small speaker microphone. His back is still turned to the rest of the passengers and Jensen doesn't catch what he says before he places the mic back on the hook. People around start to stand, causing Mackenzie to stir next to him, and Jensen gives her a reassuring smile when she slowly opens sleepy eyes and looks up at him. He forms his hand into the letter C, turning so that his fingertips point towards him and slides it down his chest once, asking her if she's hungry. She gives a small nod before looking down at her stomach. From the small blush that settles in her cheeks, Jensen guesses it has just growled. He laughs a little, taking her hand as they get off the bus and head towards the convenience store.
:::
The knock on the door comes late Wednesday night, and Jared's body immediately tenses at the faint noise as it travels up through his closed bedroom door. He's been lying awake on top of his made up bed for hours now, staring at the ceiling and glancing at the clock every so often. It's steadily ticking towards 2 a.m., but he can't seem to make himself get up and change out of his school clothes, or turn off the overhead light that's starting to hurt his eyes.
The sleepy voices of his mom and dad float upstairs, and Jared props himself up on his elbows, strains his ears to hear.
"Honestly Gerry, who would be knocking at this hour?"
"I don't know, Sharon," his dad replies, the front door creaking loudly in the background as it’s pulled open.
Jared is careful to make as little noise as he can as he finally drags himself off of his bed, cracks the door to his room and slips out into the hallway to look on from the top of the stairs. He sees his mom in the pale pink robe she always wears on Saturday mornings, his dad in an old T-shirt and plaid lounge pants. They're looking at someone he can't quite see yet, both of their faces set in a confused silence until his mother finally speaks.
"Mrs. Ackles?" She hesitates for a moment before ushering her in from the cold. The door clicks shut behind her. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm sorry to bother you this late," she starts and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It's obvious she's upset from the way she wrings her hands together, looks at the ground while she talks. "But it's... it's my kids, Jensen and Mackenzie. I - we don't know where they've gone."
Jared's mom puts a hand over her mouth. "Oh my," she says quietly beneath her palm.
"How long have they been missing?" his dad asks, but Mrs. Ackles doesn't answer, just shakes her head slowly. It makes Jared's stomach drop.
"I was wondering if you guys knew anything," she says instead. "I mean our boys were pretty good friends right? Jared might know something?" She doesn't say it as a statement, and the breaks in her voice make Jared shiver.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure," Gerry says. "I'll go wake him up."
Jared can feel his heart beating heavily in his chest, and it takes all he has to keep himself from going back into his room, from closing the door behind him and hiding away forever. "I'm awake, Dad," he says softly.
Three faces turn to stare up at him as Jared makes his way down the stairs, the creaking of the old floor underneath him unusually loud to his ears.
"What are you doing still dressed?" his mom asks, her voice layered with concern.
"I was still doing homework. I've got a big project due," he answers, doing his best to avoid eye contact.
His dad clears his throat, and Jared reluctantly raises his eyes to look at him. "Mrs. Ackles here was wondering if you knew anything about Jensen," he says, then adds a little more gently, "He's gone missing."
Jensen's mom looks at him earnestly. "Have you seen him? Maybe he told you something about where he was going, if he was planning anything..."
Jared bites at his lip and shifts uncomfortably. "Uh, no. No, he never said anything. I haven't seen him in a few days. I thought maybe he was sick or something." He hates lying, hates the way his stomach flutters nervously and his jaw aches from all the tension held from the hard grind of his teeth. He swallows thickly.
"Are you sure? I mean, he must have said something to somebody, right? He's quiet, but he has friends," Mrs. Ackles says. "He talks to people." Her words carry empty assurances, like somehow hearing them will make them come true. She's on the verge of hysterics, hands still wringing, and it's getting exceedingly harder to watch.
Jared turns his eyes to his dad instead, watches as he places a hand on her shoulder. "Where's Alan? Have you guys gone to the police?"
She shakes her head. "No. Alan wanted to ask around first. You know, before the police got involved and started asking questions." She stops suddenly, realizing that maybe she's said too much, and even in his attempt to avoid eye contact Jared catches the new wave of fear that places itself on her features. He wonders if his parents have caught it too.
"I should probably go," she says, words soft and shaky. "Thanks anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Padalecki, Jared. Sorry to bother you."
"No problem at all," his mother answers, but Mrs. Ackles' face still carries the same sad, apologetic expression.
They all see her to the door, and Jared lets out a long sigh as she disappears down the street again. He never really had anything against Mrs. Ackles. She's a nice enough woman and a lot of times he finds himself feeling sorry for her, but things are different now. Jensen is gone, and a growing part of him can't help but feel a little anger towards her for sticking next to a man she knew was hurting her children so badly, for defending him whenever anyone asked questions and for making Jensen feel like he had no other choice but to take his sister and run.
Jared startles when his mom begins to rub her hand up and down his arm, her own worry clear as she asks, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Jared says, the word falling from his lips reflexively. He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm just - I'm gonna go to bed, okay?"
"All right." His mom drops her hand, her arms folding across her chest. "Goodnight, honey."
"'Night."
Jared can hear his parents' soft whispers as they head down the hallway to their bedroom. His mom is worried about him; his dad wonders why the police haven't been involved yet, if they'll come around asking questions soon. Jared rubs a hand over his eyes, finds himself looking out the front window with a fleeting hope that Jensen isn't far and is just waiting for the right time to come knock on their door himself, but the street is empty; even Mrs. Ackles is nowhere in sight. Jared feels something thick and heavy settle in his stomach.
Jensen is gone.
:::
It's strange going to school in the morning.
Jared makes his way to class feeling like he’s caught underwater, the usual chatter and laughter bouncing off the hallway walls around him and returning sounding distorted and far away, unfamiliar.
"Uh, earth to Jared!"
His feet stop moving without him really telling them to and he finds himself looking around. It dawns on him that he’s long since passed his classroom, takes him another moment for him to remember what made him stop walking in the first place: Sandy.
"I've been calling after you for like the last five minutes! People were starting to give me funny looks," she says with a smile, adjusting the purse strap that had fallen down her shoulder. "What's up?"
"Nothing much," Jared replies, his voice flat.
"Well that's convincing." Her brow crinkles slightly. "What's with the doom and gloom look? I mean, emo is cool and all, but it doesn't really fit you, you know? You're too... happy go lucky all the time."
"Is that so?" Jared does his best to offer her a soft laugh but it comes out sounding more like he’s choking. "I've just got a lot on my mind, I guess. What's up with you?"
"Oh, same old, same old." She studies him for a moment. "So are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or am I going to have to force it out of you?"
Jared smiles. Leave it to Sandy to see past his bullshit. "I just... I don't know. Now really isn't a good time."
"What?” she jokes, putting on her best face of exasperation. “You'd actually rather get to class on time than talk to me?"
"Well, yeah. That too, I guess." The answer earns him a swift punch to the arm.
If it were any other day he would have played along, pretended like everything was just fine and said he had just pulled an all-nighter for some project. He would have joked back when she hit his arm, saved himself from the questions he knows are on the tip of her tongue and from that expectant look she's giving him as she waits for him to tell her what's going on.
If it were any other day, he would have told her. "Not now, Sandy." Jared sticks his hands in the pockets of his jeans, focuses on some spot on the floor.
"Okay." She draws out the word, makes it last much longer than it should. "So, when?"
"I don't know. I need to get to class."
When he turns his back on her and walks away, he tries not to think about the hurt in her eyes and can't help but feel like this is the moment where everything changes.
:::
Sandy is waiting for him by his locker when the final bell releases them from class. He'd done his best to get to it as quickly as possible, but somehow Sandy still beaten him here.
"Took you long enough," she says as he walks up and fumbles with the old combination lock that never seems to work on the first try.
"What are you doing here, Sandy?" he asks dryly. Her locker is in a hallway on the opposite side of the school.
"Uh, waiting for you."
"Yeah. I see that." Jared finally manages to open it on the third attempt, dumping his books inside. “I said now wasn't a good time," he adds as he pulls out the folder containing his homework for the night and closes the door again.
"You said that, what, five hours ago? So, technically now doesn't really qualify as still being a bad time."
"Look Sandy," Jared begins, running a hand through his hair and thinking of what he's going to say next. He knows he should open up to her, knows that she's just trying to be a good friend and he should appreciate that, but when he opens his mouth his voice is hard and he says, "Do I have to tell you everything?”
“What?”
“I told you I don't want to talk about it, so just drop it already.”
“Since when did we stop being able to talk about things?” Sandy asks, and when Jared doesn’t answer, just sets his jaw and looks at her coldly, her face falls, eyes sparkling. “I guess... I mean I didn’t know you...” she stops, can’t seem to gather what she’s trying to say.
"Sandy..." Jared relents after a moment, "I'm sorry. I'm just..." He rubs a hand over his face. "I'm just really tired."
"Yeah. Sure. I'll see you tomorrow," she says, and this time it's her that turns her back and walks away.
:::
A couple of blocks from the high school stands a small, seedy gas station where everyone knows the attendants hardly ever check IDs, and Jared heads straight there the moment he leaves school. Inside, the air is thick and warm, and it makes it all the more difficult to breathe as he heads to the service counter. A large man sits on a small stool on the other side, a radio next to him playing some old blues music Jared's never heard before.
"Can I help you?" he asks slowly in a deep voice, a thick Southern accent lacing his every word.
Jared clears his throat. "Yeah. Can I have a pack of Marlboros please?"
The man doesn't move, just stares at him for a long time. "What kind?"
Jared looks up from the spot on the counter where he'd fixed his eyes. "Huh?"
"What kind?" he repeats, and slowly stands to move to the glass door where the cigarettes are displayed.
"Oh. Uh, the red ones."
The man slides back the door and grabs a pack, holding it up as he asks, "Original?"
"Yeah. Original." Jared taps his fingers against the counter. “I’ll take that lighter too.”
As the old man brings the pack to the counter, Jared pulls out the fake ID he’d bought from some kid at school a while back. He's never used it - the picture on it doesn't look anything like him and it says his name is Vladimir Putin. The guy doesn't even look at it though, just hands the cigarettes and lighter to Jared along with his change and wearily sits back down onto his stool.
Jared opens the pack in the small alley behind the store, pulls out one of the cigarettes and lights it before placing the rest back into his pocket. The first inhale makes him cough loudly, an uncomfortable burn building in his lungs as he takes the second. He leans against the wall behind him, thinks about all the times when they were together and Jensen would smoke as if his life depended on it, and Jared can't help but feel a little bit closer to him as he takes another drag.
He thinks about where Jensen might be now, wonders if he's safe, and hopes more than anything that he's found what he's looking for.
:::
The drive from Waco to Austin is about two hours, but the second they reach within a few miles of the capital city the sky opens up and it starts to pour down rain in thick sheets. The slick roads have caused a bad accident that blocks all lanes of the highway, and even at the early hour the traffic is at a complete standstill. By the time they reach the bus station in Austin, it's light outside again.
Jensen grabs their backpacks from the cargo space overhead, places Mackenzie's on her shoulders before slinging his over his own. His legs are stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, his bruised torso aching with each little movement, but he does his best not to think about it. He needs to focus on what's going on around him, where Mackenzie is at all times, where they're going and what's going to happen next.
They catch the bus into downtown just before it departs from the station, and Jensen tells Mackenzie that things are going to be okay soon, that they're almost there.
He sees the building through the window as the bus pulls around the corner and comes to a stop. It's made of large, brown brick, and stands tall next to the public library, Hope Children's Center attached in thick letters high on the front exterior wall. Jensen holds Mackenzie's hand in his as they exit the bus and walk the short distance to the front of the building, stopping at the bottom of the steps leading up to the front doors. He kneels down in front of Mackenzie, points at the building before signing our new home.
When Mackenzie gives him a small nod Jensen forms the letter R with both hands, crosses them one behind the other before pulling them apart. Ready?
Mackenzie speaks this time, and Jensen reads the word yes on her lips. It's one of the few words she's spoken since they first left, and somehow it gives Jensen the courage to take her hand again and walk up the steps to the building's entrance.
Inside the front doors and a little off to the left is a reception area, a few chairs and a couch arranged on top of a rug with a few magazines lying on the coffee table in the center. To the right, a woman sits behind a small desk. She gives them a warm smile as they walk up to her.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
Jensen returns the smile and lets go of Mackenzie's hand to reach into his backpack. He pulls out the note that he'd prepared for this very moment, and hands it to the woman. She looks at him with a puzzled expression that melts away as she reads the wrinkled and creased paper.
"You read lips?" she asks as she finishes, folding the note and placing it on the desk beside her.
Jensen nods, eyes fixed on the woman’s face.
"My name is Kristi," she says. "And I'm going to help."
:::
They place them in two different clinic rooms down the hall from each other, and Jensen feels like he's going to break apart at the seams. A strong wave of anxiety washes over him as the door closes behind him and he's left staring at an empty room. The anxiety only grows with each tiny move of the second hand of the analog clock on the wall and leaves him biting restlessly at his nails as he waits for the doctor to come in.
He pulls out the lighter in his pocket, flicks the flame on and off with his right hand and holds his left over the flame. He feels the heat lick at his skin, moves his hand even closer to the fire until it starts to burn, the pale flesh of his palm turning pink.
A rush of air blows by him, and Jensen turns to see a middle aged woman wearing a white lab coat over her clothes standing in the open doorway. He watches her carefully as she closes it behind her.
"Hello," she says with a bright smile, and Jensen imagines her voice sugary sweet, like the taste of maple syrup. He does his best to return it, but doesn't seem to have it in him to muster one that would mean anything. He places the lighter back in his pocket, drops his hands into his lap and wonders how many times she's done this before, how many kids have sat where he is now.
"My name is Dr. Lawrence," she says, still smiling as she sits down in a small, rolling office chair across from him. "Jensen, right?"
He nods, neck stiff. Dr. Lawrence takes a moment and flips through what he guesses is the file they've started for him. He doesn't think much could be in there other than his name and age; they've only been here a few hours. He looks up from the papers in her lap to see her watching him closely, like she's waiting for him to do something and he guesses he's missed something she's said. He doesn't care to ask what.
My sister, where? She all right? he signs.
Dr. Lawrence shakes her head, apologies lined thick in her face, and his stomach drops for a terrifying moment. Then she says, "I'm sorry, I didn't understand."
Jensen pulls out his notepad, quickly scribbles down what he'd previously signed and shows it to the woman in front of him. She nods when she finishes reading, and Jensen drops his hand.
"Your sister is fine. She's with Kristi in the other room. They're coloring, I believe."
Jensen nods, closes his eyes for a moment as he draws in a slow, deep breath through his nose. He places a hand in his pocket, fingers tracing the cool material of his lighter. He flashes back to just a few days ago, when he was sitting in the park and Jared was telling him that cigarettes give you cancer, and he had to tell him that he was leaving, and the thought of the one good thing he's left behind makes something clench in his chest. Thing was, when Jared had told him that he was scaring him, Jensen's me too had been caught somewhere in his aching limbs.
After a long while he opens his eyes again, pulls out the lighter without so much of a second thought and begins flicking the flame on and off again.
Dr. Lawrence studies him closely, but doesn't tell him to put it away. She nods once, like she understands, like she knows just how fucked up he is. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"
Jensen nods slowly, eyes jumping around the room as he takes it all in and reminds himself that he needs to begin building some kind of trust in the people here. Jared is hundreds of miles away, and he doesn’t have anyone else.
Part o2