Let your mind go, let yourself be free (pt8)
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~*~
Jared is bouncing. Literally. He's bouncing up and down on his toes, says he's stretching his calves but it looks like a little boy who is awaiting something amazing in a few minutes. Despite their sometimes tough childhood, Jay never lost the ability to look like it's Christmas and a huge pile of presents will await them. He's infectious, and Jensen can't help bouncing his foot as well to an unheard tune.
They're gonna do it. It's the one piece they need to do alone, just Jared and him, up high above the streets, no break to get coffee and donuts or anything. And that's a good thing, because they won't be able to take a pee-break either.
Cropper leans over the table, staring at the sketches and the location-draft. “This is fucking crazy, man.” he mutters. “You have no way to get away if they spot you, there is no other way down from the scaffold.”
Jared peers at the picture Blue has taken earlier this week, by day. It shows the construction-crew's progress and the size of the building very well. “Yeah, well... we just can't get noticed then, right?” He looks worried and for a minute, Jensen thinks of cluing him in. But not with their friends there as well. If they know, they might not pay as much attention as they would otherwise, and it's not like Jensen really wants to use plan B.
“Man... I'm just glad I don't need to get up there.” Robin grins. He has the list of all the equipment that has to go up, narrowed down to the bare necessities. “I'll pack your shit, guys. Don't fall off.” he runs off, and Jared glares after him.
“Why was it that we don't want anyone up there with us?”
“Because, dumbass, they don't have our mad skills and will either die horribly when they plunge to death - “he hits Jared's arm when he turns a contemplative face towards their friends “-or they would just cling to the railing and not move an inch. Oh, wait - no railing,” Jensen smirks “so they'll be glued to the planks and shake so hard that we'll drop the cans.”
“Hardee-har-har.” Bones gripes and slaps at Jensen's head. “Should I remind you who it was that dropped the can in the mall? Huh?”
“That was-”
“Dumb? Yes, totally. Now get you mightily-skilled asses ready, I really don't wanna draw this one out longer than we have to.”
~*~*~*~
The tall, dull building looks oppressive in the evening. It's just an office-building, so of course there wouldn't be floodlights set on it.
Good for them.
The top is set in darkness, and from the ground it can hardly be seen, which is even better than Jensen was hoping for when he scouted the place. He can feel his grin stretch the face-muscles and with glee in his heart, he rubs his hands together.
“Let's go.”
Jared looks up from where he's crouching, huge backpack between his legs. He's checking the equipment - again - but nods and stands. “Yepp, lets go. You gonna tell me what we need this much rope for now?”
“Nope. C'mon.”
They start across the street, but Jay grabs his arm and drags him back, turns him towards a doorway. Before he can ask what's going on, Jensen hears the deep, angry growl of a group of motorcycles and he shivers at the memory of the night before. It takes a while before he feels comfortable to turn around, and Jay isn't too eager either. But a short glimpse over his shoulder confirms what his ears have told them already: the bikers are gone.
Together, they make their way across the street, uninterrupted this time, and slink over to the scaffold. It's still the same, but this time, Jensen leads Jared to the backside instead of taking the actual place for the ladder. It's further from the street, set in the shadows and wouldn't be any harder to climb for them anyway.
Jay throws his backpack on the first level, then grabs the board and heaves himself up with sole muscle-power. Show-of.
Jensen's pack lands right in front of Jared's feet, then he hops to reach the board, sets his left foot on one of the connection straps and pushes. It's not that he couldn't do a chin up, but why strain his shoulders when his thighs are perfectly fine?
From the first level, the rest is easy. The ladders are still available and they only need to get their packs up before the climb, since they don't fit through the holes when on their backs. The last level, or better, the top-board which is more of a roof for the workers, is the harder part. Like the last time he did it, Jensen scrambles up the steel-structure, not even thinking about the possibility of falling. That won't happen.
Up, he lies on his stomach and reaches down from where Jared hands him their packs one after the other. If he weren't so used to doing stupid, life-risking stuff like this, Jensen would feel uncomfortable with the added weight to his arm, setting off his balance point. But as it is, he just splays his legs to have more body-expanse on the wood and hooks his sneakered toes between scaffolding and wall to tether him a little.
Both bags up, he stands and lets his hands travel over his private concrete-canvas, internally already seeing the picture it will soon show. The boards shake a little when Jared climbs up, but he's balanced enough to stand firm.
“Damn, this is higher than it looks from down there.”
“Don't look down if it bothers you.”
Jared scoffs. “Right. Who was the one who fell of the roof? Not me.”
“Yeah, but you shoved me, assbutt.”
“Just a little pat, no shoving. How should I've known that you can't even take a friendly pat?”
“Wanna get a 'friendly pat' in return? Or are we gonna paint now?”
“Yeah, yeah, bossman. But first you tell me why we brought the ropes.”
“Oh, right. Gimme.” Jensen turns - carefully, there are no railings after all - and takes the long, sturdy climber's ropes out. “It's my plan B. Gimme a leg-up.”
Jay stares at him like he's gone crazy, but when Jensen raises an eyebrow at him, he obeys. It's just ten foot to the roof, and the little help is all he needs to reach and get up. He takes a look - flat, empty, full of bird-droppings and air-condition-crap- and walks to a steel-rod that's sticking out from the roof's surface. It's sturdy and will hold a person, even if that person is the giant Dumbo down there. He attaches one of the ropes, securely with a carabiner, and looks for a second possibility.
Once the two ropes are fastened, he searches the entrance to the roof, walks over and picks the lock. Better do it now than when in a crisis, he thinks, but hopes they won't have to take this way out. They'd be inside a building, possibly stuck, so it's really a last chance-plan. Crazy, but hey, crazy is fun.
~*~*~*~
Back down, Jared has already begun to roll on the dark grounding. The rest, they'll do with spray-paint and Jensen picks up one of the paint-rolls too and helps along. They got six hours, and that should be plenty. While the piece is the one most important to him, it's also the smallest. He hopes it can still be seen from the ground, once the scaffold is dismantled.
~*~*~*~
The noise is muffled up here. The few cars that still move this late at night are hardly heard, and the sounds from the spray-cans, the rattle and the ssshhhhh, drown them most of the time anyway.
Jay and Jensen work silent, side by side but apart enough to not mess with the other's work or get an elbow in the way. They did that in the early days, bumping into each other and disrupting the lines they wanted to paint. It led to a few tussles, once even to a real fight. Jensen made Jay spray right across his piece by stumbling into his side and Jared was furious, didn't speak to him for a whole day and night. It had hurt like a nail in the stomach, acid pain everyday Jensen had to look at his friend. He'd avoided doing that, looking at him, but they had been living in an apartment together at that time, their first right after Jay was kicked out - released, whatever you may call it - by the nuns when he'd turned eighteen.
It wasn't like the sisters had been unkind. It was natural, they did what they could to make them grow up safe and relatively educated, gave them a few dollars to start a new life. Some of their compatriots from the orphanage went to college, sharp-minded and competitive as they were. Jensen isn't dumb or anything, but he just didn't care enough to claw his way up so high in the grades that he'd get a scholarship. He'd found a low-wage-job that he actually liked and tried to save up as much money as possible so he'd have some fallback-savings when Jared would follow him, four years later.
He'd gone to evening-classes, learning Spanish and some boring crap about economics because they said it was helpful for rising high and getting paid more. But all in all, he didn't mind working at the convenience-store. It had been steady, boring but nice enough to not want to shoot himself.
And then Jay had moved in and they shared their nights on the streets or watching TV and gone their separate ways during the day, Jared going to school a bit more and Jensen doing his job - and it had all been shattered that night he got busted.
He knew it wasn't his fault, but Jensen couldn't stop thinking sometimes - especially those lonely days and nights in prison - that his friend would be something better now if it weren't for his stupidity.
But that's crap. Because either way, one of them would've gotten caught. It was inevitable, really, with their lifestyle and passion for the can. So he's not blaming himself, rather contemplating the 'what if's'. And that's just as useless as eating chalk. The only smart thing he can do is taking the lessons they learned and make it better. Apartment gone to get money for the lawyers, car gone, job gone for they can't have a convict - no matter how minor his misdemeanor - working with the cash-register, and anyway, they couldn't hold his job for two years. So this, as much as it sucks, is a new start. One could argue, like Goldi or one of the sisters would, that it's not the best way to start anew wit the same crap that got him booked.
One could.
But he's got a plan. They'll win this thing, they'll save the orphanage to pay their dues, and they'll finally get noticed, become famous and live the life they want to, without worries that the next cop will put them in handcuffs again.
He's the dreamer of the two of them, so he's allowed to dream like this.
~*~*~*~
”Guys? You better be on your way down. Cleaning-crew for the offices has just arrived, so ...”
It's already five, dammit. Jensen grumbles something that might be “Yes, sure, thanks for the heads-up.”, but probably sounds more like “Fuck off, I hate you”. He's hoping nobody actually heard him, since he was on his way to disconnect. The sun is still low, a hint of a glint of blue in the sky but it's easy enough to see why they didn't notice. Maybe they should set their alarms from now on.
“Jay, need to go.”
Jared turns, looks at his watch and says “huh.” Two more strokes with the can, then he starts packing while Jensen finishes the role-call. The rules didn't say they weren't allowed to have one person roll-call all of them, so he guesses it doesn't matter. Jay takes a few pictures and they're good to go.
The climb down is the dangerous one. Well, not physically, but since they are leaving during day-break, the early-birds are already on the streets. Bones, who has the morning-shift in watching for trouble, guides them down, tells them to take cover once or twice - and Jensen isn't exactly certain he's not pulling their legs. There are some hidden smirks in his orders... - and in the end, they hit the street and quickly set the backpacks in the side-street.
It's much less suspicious if the two suit-clad guys with hats aren't carrying Tatonka-bagpacks, even though there might be a logical explanation. Maybe they are Blues-musicians and have their instruments in the packs.
Still, the way it's planned, Bones and Crop will pick them up while Jay and him leave without haste, looking like they're just on a stroll through the night.
~*~*~*~
It works so well that of course something would go wrong. They just round a corner and there they are, the Muppets. Oh, sorry. The Good Boys. What a stupid name.
“Well, howdy-ho there. Jack and Woody, in the flesh.”
“Gonzo.”
“Well observed, Mr Toy-Story. Now what could you ass-wipes be doing here, this time of night? Could you be doing somethin' illegal, maybe?”
“I don't know, Hook-nose. But I'm sure you'll tell us to enlighten our horizon.”
“Jay, c'mon. Let's go.”
“Yes, Jay.” Kermit croaks in. Really, how could you call yourself 'Kermit' when your voice sounds like this? “Go with your papa-bear. So you don't get a boo-boo.”
Jensen rolls his eyes and grabs Jared by the shoulder. Those two don't have anything on them, and definitely not size or muscle; they can't hurt them and it's much better to just let them be. But Gonzo gets his phone out and holds it up in mockery.
“Hey, whaddaya think, Kerm. How about we call the nice, friendly police-men and tell them that there is a convict looking like he just broke his parole? I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to use any of these now.” And he points to Jensen's jacket and shoes, which have paint drops all over them, just like a sudden burst of wind had swept the aerosol away from the wall and onto him. Which, sadly, is exactly what happened. He feels all his color vanish from his face, remembers the dull walls in prison and that he can't stay there again, no. No-no-no-no.
But before he can do anything, react in any way, a grizzly-bear jumps at Gonzo and claws at him, trying to rip his windpipe out of his throat. Kermit squeaks and tries to dislodge the big, furry monster but he's just a tiny frog-like person and even when he jumps on Jared's back, he can't do much.
“Jay, stop, dammit!” With the sudden shock of helplessness gone, Jensen jumps into the mangle to prevent his friend committing homicide. They wouldn't be allowed to stay in the same section if he did.
He grabs Kermit by the waist and pulls him off his own, private, irate grizzly's back, just dumps him to the side like a squiggling toddler and wades in between Jay and Gonzo, ducking under Jared's arms to force his eyes on him, not on the crooked nose of their rival. “Jared! Stop!”
He does, astonishingly.
While Jay is big and strong like an ox, he doesn't like violence. Never did, even as a kid. He always hid behind Jensen when there were squabbles in the orphanage. Sometimes, when Jensen wasn't too occupied with watching the fight and trying to learn something new he could use, he contemplated if the little squirt had had a difficult home-life with a lot of violence before coming to the nuns.
He never asked, though. Past was past and now was now, and he would always move so he'd be in between trouble and Jay.
In comparison, Jensen loved a good fight. Not that he was exceptionally good at it, in fact, Jay was way better, but he liked the mindless physicality, the punches and the kicks and the biting and the pain. It made him feel alive like usually only spraying and sketching did - oh, and sex of course. Usually, it's Jared who stops the brawls but tonight, it's different.
Maybe because the other times, halting the violence is the thing that keeps Jensen healthy and safe, while tonight it's the reverse? He thinks that might be it, because damn, the kid can get real nasty when it comes to defending Jensen. Hence the grizzly-act.
“C'mon, lets just go.” Gonzo is wheezing, eyes huge and scared. “I'm sure he won't call the police, right?” Gonzo nods, but with a growl, Jared still rips the cell-phone from his trembling fingers and takes out the battery. Not such a bad idea, actually. When Jensen turns to do the same with Kermit's phone, though, his breath seems to stop.
He can spot the biker-gang over the slim shoulders of little frog-boy, and this time, they don't just drive by. One of them, a huge man with a pot belly that sadly doesn't look to inhibit his capacity for violence at all, is pointing their little group out to his leader, the small, skinny, scary dude with the weird mustache.
“Fuck!” he murmurs. “Guys, let's better make a run for it.” Gonzo and Kermit, following his gaze, stare in shock but scramble away swiftly and dash off. Jared repeats Jensen's 'fuck' silently, then they, too, dig their toes in and run.
~*~*~*~
In the dark city-canyons, it's sometimes hard to see daybreak. It's longer dark in the shadows, black tar crawling over the sealed ground, too many lights in the streets to let the human eye perceive a change until it's so obvious that it could just as well slap you in the face.
The sun isn't rising yet, but the sky is turning sickly dark blue from the inky, light-polluted black it has been during the night.
Jensen notices but can't really do anything with it. Jay and him usually love this time of the day, when the city is in the last moments of sleep, peaceful even through all the dirt and sickness and poverty that's often well-hidden during the day.
Often, he and Jay have sat on a railing or a wall, watching the sky change and getting their asses frozen to the stone. They love the witching hour, well past midnight and still way before morning. In the summer, the birds would already sing the night away at four, some even earlier. But now, in October, the only creatures that could serenade the day would be rats, junkies and drunks - and sadly, they sometimes do.
~*~*~*~
They run through the park. It's easier to get lost in there, or better, to lose their pursuers. It's just a small park, but the trails are winding and lined with scrub, occasional openings notwithstanding. It's no trouble at all to leave the paths and run across the lawn, and with a well-timed jump, Jay and he climb the seven-foot-wall as if it were a park-bench. With an easy drop, they're out, grinning and dusting off the suits. It wasn't much more than a little exercise, but it's still good to catch a breath.
The bikers are smarter than they looked, though. Just when Jensen thought they got rid of them, a foolish thought Jared shares if you consider his smile, three bikes putter around the corner they just wanted to turn. Behind them is the wall and a narrow alley, and if fate would be nice to them, the alley would be empty. It probably isn't, but the choices are slim.
“Fuck!” Jared swears and they turn, once again jogging away from the crazy Nazi-bikers. Who aren't following. The hairs on the back of Jensen's neck rise, and he gets a bad, bad feeling in his guts. Sure enough, at the end of the alley, three more bikes and their lumpy riders are silhouetted against the strengthening daylight. “Fuck!”
There is one bright spot, though. They'll never beat themselves out of a tussle with six rockers, not to mention the real probability that there would soon be more than six. But a creaky-looking fire-escape sits right between the two of them and the nice, friendly motorcyclists that are waiting for them. The ladder is gone, either pulled up or ripped away, but that's not actually something that bothers Jensen. This jump, he can do in his sleep. “Up, Jay!” he mutters, and takes off.
They don't need much speed to make it, but walking towards the danger would surely not lead their friends to wait for them. They'd figure out what their plan is and intercept them, and that is the one bad thing in the big, steaming pile of really shitty-stinking bad things that they can't have right now. Speed and surprise helped them more than often in similar situations. Similar, though with less dire consequences...
Jared veers right, closer to the wall so he'd have a better angle for the jump. Jensen doesn't even think about following, Jay's sense of direction might be fucked, but his instinctual sense for distances, angles and heights is outstanding. A call of surprise breaks the low, deceptively purring sound of the mighty engines. Apparently, at least one rider has figured out what they're about to do. Too late, though. Jared pushes off with a powerful jump, hits the brick-wall just right with his left foot and uses the step to catapult himself high, grabs the iron balcony of the fire-escape and pulls himself up with no trouble.
Jensen is right behind, his own jump no less exact, his hands no less sure and his arms no less strong to pull his body up. Only thing that's a bit less well is this one smart fucker, who didn't take the time to get his clunky bike running but instead used his surprisingly strong legs to reach Jensen just in time to grab his calf with his own - severely less awesome - jump.
It's a really messy jump, but it's enough to pull Jensen down, his upper body and then his chin slamming against the cold steel-grid. He can feel his teeth bite through his tongue but the pain, white-hot-blinding, isn't enough to make him panic.
He kicks out with his other leg, sad for the first time in years that he's not wearing anything with heavy soles, and uses the face he connects with to scramble up again. Swiftly, he works himself over the gridded railing, not dropping or buckling like an amateur might have to and is up the next ladder before he even realizes. He can hear Jared clanging and banging a few levels up, probably already trying for a smart place to break in and get away from the house. A bit of plaster explodes in Jensen's face, small, sharp pieces stinging close to his right eye. Just a split-second later, he hears the sharp retort of a gun, so unexpected that he momentarily stops moving. Someone shot at him. Someone shot at him! In their whole life of criminal activity, nobody ever used a gun on them.
“Jens? You ok?”
Jared's concerned yell shakes him out of his stupor just as he hears the “Fucking lunatic, put that piece back.” from below. He's climbing again, up to Jay's level where his friend is waiting.
“We better take the roof.” is all Jared says when Jensen reaches him, and he nods, wiping the blood away from his lips. Smartest thing to do, because the rockers would just have to cover the entrance of the house if they want to catch them.
On top of the house, they take a deep breath. Carefully, Jensen takes a look over the side, sees the two groups down there meeting in the alley and he pulls back when the six men look up. They probably didn't spot him, but he doesn't want to stick around and wait to find out. He spits, dark blood and saliva darkening the already dark roof.
“Jensen!” While he was doing stupid foolish things, Jay found their escape-route.
“Uh...” Jensen goes over, stares across the Grand Canyon between this roof and the one to the right. The one that is at least ten miles smaller than this one.
“It's just six feet across, maybe seven. No worries, that's easy. And since we're higher, we can't really miss it. You chicken?”
Jensen swallows hard and tries not to wish that he actually were a chicken. With wings.
“Nope. No shicken. Sho, how far? Fordy feed?”
Jay is staring at him, with that skeptical eyebrow-look-thingy he sometimes has. Most often when he can't figure out if Jensen is serious or pulling his leg. It's usually a good bet to act like you're just joking, in these moments, so Jensen grins and winks. Jared is still not convinced, but he follows when Jensen retreats to get the right distance for a solid run-up. Wordlessly, he trails along with Jared when he moves three steps more than he estimated. Not that he really estimated anything - it damn well looks like forty feet!
Jared takes off a second before him. He's soaring through the air, legs pulled up nearly to his chin, a perfect drop, and falls quickly beneath the small wall where he disappears from Jensen's view. He doesn't let himself think about failing, about Jared lying splattered on the ground, and follows.
~*~
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