Backbone
Now I've done it.
I've written my very first J2-AU-story. This was inspired by soncnicas "Soft Skeletons" and is actually the same story, only this time from Jared's POV.
I highly recommend that you read hers first! Here
Title: Backbone
Author: marlowe78
Rating: G ? or PG-13 ? I am still confused about those ratings (I would let a teenager under 17 read it, though. But I'm not from the US...)
Characters: Jared, Jensen
Word count: ~ 4.900
Warnings: mentions of violence, mentioned abuse of a minor, mentions of attempted suicide. Lots of swearing. NO SEX! This is gen, folks
Summary: Jared hasn't been counselor at Camp Gamble long. He always wanted to work with kids, but now it looks like he might be in over his head.
We fucked a bit with the ages. Jared is around 26, Jensen is 16. There will be no sex here!
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles are real people whom I've (sadly) never met. I know close-to nothing about them and borrowed their faces and names for my own fantasy (I hope I will be forgiven for that). I also very much regret to inform you that there will not be and has never been payment for me for writing this.
a/n: Many Thanks to soncnica, who not only inspired me and allowed me to use her story as the backbone to my own, but who also was so kind to play beta for me. (Aww, babe. It was NOT a bother to return the favour. I love playing all knowing and shit ;-))
So, knowing this is inspired by her story, you might find a lot of things that are exactly the same in both stories. Anything you recognize (since you have already read hers, right?) is written by her. Well, except the first paragraph, that one was mine ;-)
Have fun!
Backbone
On Monday, it rained. The whole day. The day-to-day-schedule stayed the same, only the shirts of the kids weren't drenched in sweat but rather soaked through completely.
On Tuesday, Nickolas Caruthers got a cold, ate too many cough-drops and puked on his shoes. And got constipated. He was coughing, sniffing and groaning on the toilet for hours, dumping his chores on other kids who had been smarter and maybe even able to read the patient-information-sheet.
On Wednesday, the world turned like it usually does, Michelle got a hickey and refused to tell anyone who had done it - got detention for her loyalty - and the mess-crew made spaghetti.
On Thursday, Jensen cracked. And it rained again. Poured actually.
Great.
---
It wasn’t supposed to be like ‘any other job’. Jared had looked forward to his position as the counselor at Camp Gamble. It was one of those last-chance-things, which was ironic, really, since it was for teenagers and youths under twenty-one, and how can anything be ‘last chance’ when your whole life has only just begun?
But even he, whose upbringing and life had been less than stellar as well, had found out that there were differences between growing up on the streets and making mistakes and being ‘last-chance-kids’, like these here.
These kids were a mess. No two words about it. Most of them came from good-situated, if not wealthy families, who could afford to pay their fees and could not afford to let their misfit-offsprings go to juvie.
But not all. There were street-kids as well, those few lucky ones the CPS cared enough about to not let them drop completely.
Like Kevin Miller, or Malcolm Brown. Both poor as church-mice, both in for repeated car-jacking. Both without a single violent bone in their bodies, despite their lack of chances so far. He liked them, liked to hear them talk. Was thrilled to see them form a friendship, even if they hadn’t been at camp for more than a week. Strange, to see the reddish-blond Miller from Milwaukee hang around with the dark-skinned Brown from Queens.
Jared hoped their bond would hold. It seemed it would, and he encouraged them as sneakily as possible. Nothing he could do would help them more than what they could do for themselves. He didn’t worry about those two. They would be fine.
And then, there was Jensen.
---
He stood in front of him, a picture of poorly-hidden aggression, pain, cold and misery. Jensen wore the ugly green shirt and the combat pants that were standard around here, that were issued to make them all one, equal. There was no social standing here, you damn well earned any privilege in the Camp or you didn’t, no matter your last name. No-one called you at your last name, either.
The teen sniffed.
“Hey, Jensen. Sit.”
Jensen shifted a bit, not meeting his eyes. He never did, not once since he’d gotten here. ‘Defiance against authority’, Jensen’s file said.
Something else, Jared’s gut had said.
His gut had been right. No kid tries to kill himself out of defiance.
“I’ll stand.”
“Okay, as you want.”
Give him as much control as you can. Jared tried to let him make the decisions, within reason. Still, the sneer Jared got for his patience hurt a little.
“Yeah, fine.” The kid rolled his eyes.
A thunderstorm was moving in. Had been announcing itself for a while now. The load growl in the sky made Jared flinch a little. He didn’t like storms.
It was getting dark in the room and the psychologist turned on the light. He had asked for warm, old-fashioned bulbs, no harsh halogen-lamps. No matter if they were bad for the environment; he couldn’t work with troubled kids in a room that looked like a hospital ward. Or prison.
Jared was sitting in his cord arm-chair, like the light chosen for comfort, not practicality. He had hung bright but soothing pictures on the walls as soon as he'd started here, only a year ago. He liked his office. It was cozier than his sleeping-room.
The kid in front of him was his personal project, had been from the first time he saw him.
“Jensen Ackles, sixteen. Here for repeated violent outbursts against his teachers, classmates and neighborhood-kids. He had been warned more than once. Parents interfered, paid the victims off. Don’t know if that was a good thing for the kid, made him act out even more. Assumed to be a bit slow.” Genevieve swirled her finger in a very recognizable gesture.
Jared valued Gen’s statements. She summed up most of the files for him so he didn’t have to read all twenty. She was small but tough, didn’t take shit from anyone. They often disagreed on assessments of the kids’ evaluation; she was a bit quicker to judge by appearance than Jared. Still, she gave everyone the same chance, never let her judgment cloud her behavior.
“Hm.” He had the file in front of him, a picture of the boy on top. Hair nearly the length of his own, hiding his face. Petulant, angry eyes under the mop of blond. Good-looking boy.
“… medication every day. We have to check.”
“What? Sorry.” He had been trying to assess the Ackles-kid - Jensen - through the picture, trying to figure him out. One look at that photo told him there was more to the boy than what his files said. What his family said. He didn’t look slow.
Gen had named an impossible list of drugs that had been prescribed to the youth. Jesus. How could anyone so young have so much shit in his system already? Tranquilizers, mood-equalizers, stuff against ADHD… It was a sad fact that a lot of people tried to medicate their problems away and assumed that a docile, half-asleep teenager meant he was normal, the way it should be. People…
Not even two hours later he stood in front of the furious boy who had kicked Jim in the balls for trying to cut his hair to the required length. It had taken three men to wrestle him into submission, and Jared had only heard of the incident when he got his order - sorry, ‘request’ - to talk to the “little shit” after the tranquilizers his family had provided wore off. Too late to prevent the use of sheer force.
Not the best first impression, really.
Jared noticed the barely-hidden violence in Jensen’s face, the darkening of his eyes. He couldn’t really blame him. The strict schedule the teens had to follow here, the physical exercises, the healthy but blunt food… Not much to look forward to in here. Not much to feel happy about and only sullen, angry and defiant teenagers around. Misery loves company.
The anger was nothing new. So many kids came here blustering with false or true bravado, with attitude to match. Some needed more than the camp and Jared were able to give.
All they’d get here was rules, a known frame of regulations that they could cling to. It was the same for everyone. It was never random, and most kids that came to Gamble craved that, even though they’d never admit it, probably never even knew.
Some teens came here because they were bored and stupid, some because they fell in with the wrong people. Some because they had needed money, some needed love and attention.
Some kids, though, some came here because they got angry and violent and never said a peep as to why. Like Jensen.
It wasn’t Jared’s first case like that, but it was less common than you’d think. Most kids really longed to talk to someone.
“You wanna talk today? About what happened with Kevin?”
He saw Jensen flinch. Jared had noticed that the boy reacted badly to kindness, usually getting on everyone’s nerves so bad that nobody ever bothered. He was determined to break him out of this habit.
The dim light hid Jensen’s eyes, touching them with darkness. He should ask for a better light-bulb.
“No, not really.”
Jared hadn’t expected different, but he had hoped. The boy refused to talk. At least he didn’t hit the crew with insults, like one of the girls, Clara, did. Man, she had a wicked tongue, knew just where to go to hurt the most.
He leaned forward, put his elbows on his thighs.
“He said you hit him. Broke his nose, actually.”
“Thad stoopied fug. I hade him. Fugger!”
Jared looked at Kevin in front of him. He was in bed, a wad of cotton stuffed in his nose, looking angry and embarrassed about his funny way of talking and the white brace in his face. Poor boy. Malcolm sat next to him, grinning every time his friend said something. Jared could barely keep from smiling himself.
“What happened?”
“Dunno” Malcolm shrugged. “The freak just jumped him, like those pit-bull-dogs. Could only just get him off Kev.”
Jared raised his brows. Malcolm was broad, muscular and at sixteen already six foot tall. Jensen should have been no match for him.
“Whatever.”
“Okay.”
Jared waited. Sometimes, silence made them talk. Jensen twitched, but stayed still.
“He told me he saw something… on your back.”
“I jusd asked him whad thad was on his bag.”
“His bag?”
“No, his BAG. Looked… like he had…” Kevin stopped, looked away.
“Like what?”
“Nothig.” And that had been the end of the conversation.
“No.” The boy’s eyes flicked back and forth, not resting anywhere. Never meeting his own.
“Jensen…”
Jensen fidgeted.
“Are you taking your pills?” He was pretty sure that Jensen was not. Jensen had changed, from the hostile, sullen but docile kid from the day his older brother had dropped him off to the twitchy, violent but scarily silent bag of anger he had in front of him now.
“Yes.”
Jared sighed. He could spot a lie that bad from ten miles away. Even though he hated to do it, he made a note to check the medication again and to supervise Jensen from now on while he took it. He didn’t want the boy to be drugged, but he wasn’t a psychiatrist, had no medical degree.
“Jensen, look… you’ve been here for a week, yeah?”
Jensen nodded.
“Okay, look… after the…” Jared stopped, tried to find a way to say ‘suicide attempt’ without outright saying it, “…incident…”
“Jensen!”
The utter shock of seeing a sixteen-year-old boy so desperate that he wanted to kill himself with a goddamn plastic-knife took his breath away. It hurt, and Jared wasn’t prepared for it to hurt. He had come to like the kid, had tried to make him talk, to get him out of the shell. But the stab in his gut was more than just professional sympathy.
Jared wasn’t stupid, knew too well what usually made kids act like Jensen, but without him saying what it was, his hands were tied. False accusations were a sure way for him to lose his job, was actually the reason he had a job. His predecessor had lost his because of too-quick judgment. Hadn’t mattered that Jeff swore it was true.
“Look, kid. I really want you to talk to me. About just anything, okay? No matter what. Maybe even how bad the food in the cafeteria is. Those spaghetti were kinda… overcooked,” he grimaced. They had been awful. “I don’t care, just… talk.”
“This is way above our pay-grade.”
“Mike… If I tell the boss, Jensen is out of here.”
“Maybe that’s better for him. I know you like him, but if he really tried to kill himself, do you think we can do anything? Even you aren’t qualified for that.”
“I know” Jared had scratched his head, watched the boy sleeping in the infirmary-bed he had put him in. Jensen had been given some sleeping pills, and the resigned way the kid had taken and swallowed them had made Jared feel like shit.
“So…”
“I don’t think putting him in a hospital, or a closed facility is going to do him any good. If what I suspect is true… If it’s what I think it is, it’ll make everything worse.”
“Jared, man. I don’t know. Suicide… He needs help, more than we can give.”
“Yes. But he needs help that isn’t influenced by the name Ackles.”
“You think…?”
“I think. Let me try and talk to him again. Just one more try.”
Thunder.
“Jensen,” Jared sighed, “if you’d just… talk to me, alright? I know I can’t make you, man, I wish I could, you know? Make you talk, -” the boy looked up at him and Jared counted it as a small win, even though there was a bit of fear in his face. “- make you just lose it, ya know? But I can’t… It has to be you. Just… I just wanna help you. I can help you if you’d let me.”
Jared needed proof. He wouldn’t normally push so hard, not with a kid like Jensen. It wasn’t the way he liked to do things, but sometimes, force was all that worked. Even if he suspected that kindness would break Jensen’s walls just as thoroughly, it would take too long. Trust needed time, and these kids were here only for two months. Not nearly enough for him, but more than enough for the boy to re-erect his defenses after his little break-down.
Or kill himself for real, this time.
When he looked up again, he noticed the pallor of Jensen’s skin. His breathing was irregular, his eyes seeking an exit, a way out. He looked like a trapped animal, and Jared was afraid that he had gone too far, even though he was pretty sure he hadn’t said enough.
“Jensen…”
The kid looked out of it, somewhere off in space. Jared contemplated to get help, but that would probably lead to more drugs.
“Jensen, hey.”
He stood, went over to Jensen, tried to see into his eyes, to judge how far out he was. He touched him, tried to ground him.
“Jensen, calm down.”
He got a push for his efforts, hard enough to make him stumble a bit.
“Stay away from me! Don’t you touch me!” That hurt, again. How could it hurt him so much that the kid didn’t trust him? It wasn’t even his kid.
“Jensen…”
He tried to get closer again, not far, a half-step and a lean, but it was too much. Before he even knew it - and he should have known, the signs had been there for everyone to see - a sharp, blinding pain took his breath away and blood was running from his split lip.
Embarrassingly, Jared went down. A scrawny, skinny kid had just knocked six-foot-four Jared on his ass. It was less than he deserved for his own stupidity. He looked up, stunned, and watched every bit of remaining color drain from Jensen’s face, watched the anger turn to fear, no, terror.
“Jensen!”
The instant Jensen turned, Jared knew it would happen. He had seen it in his eyes, the need to run, to escape. To get away. He had seen it before, but hadn’t recognized it. That day, just before Jensen tried to slit his wrist.
The door crashed open with a bang, letting the cold and rain into the cozy warmth of Jared’s world. He watched the kid slip on the steps, saw him fall and break his neck for a second, before the sharp wind dragged him back to reality, dragged him back to the sight of the green-clad boy running into the night.
“Hell, no. JENSEN!”
Jared was up and out before he knew it, grabbed the Maglite from the table and was after his charge. He would not lose this boy, he wouldn’t. Not him.
“Jensen!”
---
The forest surrounding the camp was dark, overgrown with spruce and fir, the soil soft from the fallen needles. The crew took the kids out every day, made them run, work and power themselves out to get rid of the excess- energy. It was a beautiful area.
But at night, it was mostly dark.
Jared felt the fern hit his legs, the slippery slope of the hill he was running up, trying to catch the boy in front of him. Amazing, how Jensen could be so fast. Despite his long legs, Jared had to work hard to gain ground, especially uphill.
Only the flash of naked skin told Jared that the kid had veered off the path. If he managed to lose him in the woods,let him get away too far, Jensen would be lost; it would take days to find him in the vast forest, days in only a shirt; wet, miserable, suicidal. Jared lengthened his strides.
---
“Jensen, right?” First meeting. Every kid got a first meeting with Jared Padalecki. It was in the rules. Right on top: “After arrival, first assessment by the camp-counselor.”
Silent defiance greeted him, but not a hint of low intelligence. Yes, his eyes were dull, but considering what was supposedly in his bloodstream, it was a wonder the boy didn’t sway on his feet.
“Okay, do you want to sit down?”
The boy didn’t move an inch.
“Jensen, I‘m not here to hurt you. I‘m here to help you.” Jared had spoken slowly, but not condescending. Got a snort for his trouble.
“Okay, well then… uh… I’ll talk and you listen.”
---
The night was black, the shadows from the trees tinted the darkness even deeper, threw shapes on the floor. The needles made the footfalls soft, barely audible.
Jared stopped, tried to get a bearing, tried to hear the boy’s frantic feet over his own thundering heartbeat. The flashlight would be no good, if he looked into the light his eyes wouldn’t adjust fast enough to see what was outside the narrow beam. He still kept it on, pointed to the ground.
---
“So, your parents brought you here, because you got into some trouble back home, right?”
Joshua Ackles had brought him here, actually. Not his parents. The young man had looked at his brother with sadness and a little hope, had tried to give the teen a hug but hadn’t pressed when Jensen turned away. Jared had observed the older man sigh and walk backwards to the car. Ackles hadn’t seen the pain in his brother’s eyes, had only been given his back.
Jared’s gut had twisted at the sight.
Silence. Blink.
“Alright, can you tell me about that a little?” The files were clear, but he suspected more than just a temper-tantrum behind the bloodied nose of the school’s quarterback. Most kids tried to defend themselves, sometimes with ridiculous excuses.
But nothing from Jensen.
--
His heart twisted, made a leap when he heard a twig break. To his left. Jared didn’t think, just spun and ran, praying to God that it wasn’t a deer.
If Jensen died… He wouldn’t let him die. Not out here, not in there. No-where. He never wanted to feel the gut-wrenching fear again of seeing the boy with a knife at his arm, even pointing up towards his elbow, not just across the wrist. Jensen had meant it.
---
It had stopped pouring, but everything was still wet, slippery and cold. The night-animals weren’t out again, yet, and the silence was oppressing.
---
“Why did you wanna do that?” Why did you want to kill yourself? What is so bad that you want to die at sixteen?
Silence. Jensen looked at the floor, didn’t raise his eyes.
“Don’t… Jensen, look at me, come on. Eyes on me.” Jared snapped his fingers in front of the boy’s eyes. Jensen looked up, but flinched away again.
“Jensen, come on...”
He took his wrist, just a gentle touch, feather-like. He didn’t want to restrain but console, give him focus. Something to lean on.
“Okay, this is what we’re gonna do: I won’t tell anyone else. Not yet. Mike knows, but he’ll keep quiet for now. I don’t want you gone just yet. I think this place can help you, give you something. I’ll talk to a colleague. Ask him if we could drop some of those pills. Just some of them, so you don’t feel so …” he wanted to say ‘helpless’, but no kid liked to hear that word attached to them “...numb all the time.”
Jensen was just sitting there, not making eye-contact.
“I’d like to know more about you. I want… I think I can help you. I hope I can. But to do so, to keep you here, we need some ground-rules. You come here every day, talk to me. About whatever you want, I don’t care. I’ll be your sounding-board and you just… you just talk. ‘S that ok?”
No reaction.
“Jensen? It’s your decision, you can stay and come every day to me, or we need to tell someone else what you tried to do. Your choice, but you’re gonna have to give me some feedback here, dude.”
Jared smiled at him, locking eyes with the kid.
“Okay.”
Jared grinned: “Awesome.”
--
His feet hurt, his lungs ached. How could this skinny kid run so fast? Why didn’t he stumble over the vines, like Jared did all the time? What good were long legs if they couldn’t keep up with desperation?
--
“How are ya today?”
“Fine.
That was pretty much all that came out of the kid that day. This would take a load of patience.
--
“What do you wanna talk about today?
“I know who gave Michelle that hickey.”
“You?”
“No, not me.” Jensen smiled a little at that.
They talked for an hour. Mostly Jensen, but Jared got some words in, a joke here and there. The kid was everything but stupid. In fact, there was a sharp intelligence behind those huge eyes, only sometimes glittering out. He understood far more than anyone gave him credit for, was quick as a whip. How a parent could assume the boy was dumb was beyond him, how any doctor couldn’t see Jensen was smart and just prescribe drugs to a boy full of hormones was bordering on criminal.
Only after Jensen left to do his chores did Jared realize that in all their talking, not once had the subject been close to anything personal.
He still decided to count it as a win.
---
He had stopped calling for Jensen long ago. The boy wouldn’t listen and Jared suspected that he didn’t even hear him.
But Jared heard. The underbrush was crackling and shifting, the fern gave the fugitive away with its swish-swish-swish against the cargo-pants. Now that the forest got denser, Jared had the advantage. He gained ground quickly and when he saw Jensen entering a small clearing, briefly illuminated against the deeper darkness of the forest. He grabbed his chance and gave his all.
---
“Jensen broke Kevin’s nose”
“What? Why?”
“What do I know? You are the shrink around here. Go, do your job. Find out. But one more thing like this and I have to tell about the knife. You know I have to.”
“Yes. I know. Thanks, Mike.”
--
He ran and he jumped, tackled the fleeing boy from behind, wrapped his arms around him and tried to cushion the fall.
Jensen still let out an ‘umph’ when they crashed to the floor. He rolled them over, didn’t want to suffocate the kid. Jared wasn’t exactly skinny.
“Jensen…” he huffed.
The boy struggled, desperate, tried to get away. Jared wrapped his legs around him, pinning him down.
“Calm down.”
Didn’t help. Jensen only struggled stronger, fought with all he got, tried to bite him and only the fact that his arms were too low on the smaller body prevented teeth marking his arms.
Jensen kicked and bucked. Jared pinned his legs down with more force. The fight was absolutely uneven, the counselor so much stronger than the boy. Still, the utter silence was eerie and what Jensen lacked in weight he made good in determination.
He tried to move his arms but Jared just squeezed them tighter to his side, right against his ribs.
Jared pinned him hard, kept him close. That was why he noticed the irregular breathing at once, the panic-induced hiccups, the low keening in the teenager’s throat.
“Jensen, shhh, shhh, shhh… come on… breathe. Come on… come on… come on. Calm down.”
He needed to calm him down, couldn’t have him hyperventilating, not after that run.
“Shh shh shhh, Jensen. Shhhhhh, that’s it, slow and easy, shhh…”
The breathing slowed but stumbled, hitched. Jared let go a little, gave Jensen more room.
A sob.
Jared felt like a perverted asshole to be relieved that he finally made the kid cry.
He let him move, let him crawl into himself, curl up and seek all the comfort his own body was able to give. He still didn’t let go completely.
Another sob.
And one more.
“That’s it… ‘s it Jensen. Come on.”
He let him cry, let him get rid of all the tears he had. Let him shake on the ground and fall apart completely, determined to get him back together later, to make him whole. Jared ached for the kid.
“Please…” Jensen whimpered, fucking whimpered!
“Please what Jensen?”
Jensen sobbed, couldn’t answer. Fell apart some more and Jared held him, drew him close, protected him from the night and the cold around them.
He waited. There was enough time, now. Except that his pants were wet, and Jensen was soaked. He decided to push a bit more.
“Please, what? Huh?”
The boy drew in a breath, like he needed all his bravery for what was to come.
“Dontmakemegohome… please.”
Jared was silent, grit his teeth to not growl in anger. He had known it, but he had hoped to be wrong. How he had ached to be wrong…
The ground was wet and hard.
Jensen’s face was wet from tears and snot.
Jared’s arms hurt.
The last of the drizzle stopped.
It was a pretty cold night.
“Talk to me… say whatever you want.”
Jensen shook his head.
“Come on… whatever comes to your mind.”
He needed proof, now. Needed it, but didn’t want to dig too deep. Had pushed so fast and hard already.
“The closet smells of sweaty shoes.” The words were so low, nearly a whisper. They didn’t really make sense, except that they did. Jared’s insides cramped in anger and sympathy.
“What closet?”
“And it’s like you’re blind, it’s that dark in there. And spiders crawl over ya.”
The voice was shot to shit and he couldn’t pull in a full breath. Jensen sounded bad, so bad. Still, the floodgate had opened and the water needed out.
“What closet, Jensen?”
“They wa- ant me to die. They tell… tell me that e-every day. Why did they fuck then, if they didn’t wa-ant me?”
Jared was silent. Heard the heartbreak in those words, the misery and pain and utter, utter loneliness. How could anyone do that to a boy like Jensen? Why would anyone do that to any kid? To anyone.
“It’s not my… my fault… ‘s not.” he whispered.
Jared swallowed: “No, ‘s not.”
“No one cares. Hav-ve no friends. They don’t.. don’t want me to ha-ave ‘em. Said I’m retarded. I’m not,” he sniffled, “‘m not. Said they’ll hurt me if I say so-something at this camp. Said not to talk to anyone or else…”
“Hey, hey…”
“I wish they’d kill me… som-sometimes… just… do it… already.”
“Jensen…” Don’t say that, don’t say that. Don’t give up. Hold on, it will get better, can’t get worse. I’ll make sure, I promise, I fucking promise.
But the words didn’t come out.
He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Felt the kid relax against him, felt him sag with the admission, with the weight dropped from his shoulders.
Jensen moved; wiped his eyes, the snot from his face. Grabbed Jared’s forearm. The teenager was shaking; his whole body shook like a leaf on a rainy day. Shook in Jared’s arms.
There was no moon in the sky tonight.
No stars.
Just blackness.
“He hits me.” A whisper.
“Who?” Whisper. I know.
“Dad.” Whisper.
“Where?” Whisper. I think I know.
“Back.” Whisper.
Jared nodded against Jensen’s wet nape, Jensen’s hair tickling his forehead.
“Can I look? I aint’ gonna touch, just gonna look, okay?”
He felt him stiffen up again, smoothed his hands over the boy’s chest to calm him. He didn’t really need to see, but… well. If he let him look now, it would maybe be easier to let the Doc look at it later, enable him to go through that whole embarrassing shebang with pictures and filled forms and written statements.
“Yeah…” Whisper.
Jared untangled his legs and rolled to sit. Jensen didn’t move, still lying on his left side, staring into the darkness.
Jared fished for his flashlight that was lying near Jensen’s sneaker, forgotten, illuminating the woods behind their backs.
“s okay, just me, alright?” Whisper.
He grabbed the hem of Jensen’s wet and muddy shirt and lifted it, his hands trembling when he bunched it up at Jensen’s nape.
He swallowed.
Jensen’s back was criss-crossed with angry red welts, lines only a belt can cause. A belt on naked skin. They weren’t fresh looking, were just there… all over.
Jensen shivered. His vertebrae seen so clearly in the yellow light.
“Jensen… when did he last do this?” Whisper. How could he have done that?
“Two weeks ago, maybe more. He… my dad… loves the belt. The thin one.” It looked more like it had been done by a whip.
“Okay, ‘s okay.” Jared whispered into the night, into Jensen’s sweaty, rain-soaked hair. He was lying. It wasn’t ok. Not even close.
But he’d make sure it would be.
End?
a/n: Thanks for reading. If you haven't already, check out soncnicas part of this story. (Link on top)
I've written my very first J2-AU-story. This was inspired by soncnicas "Soft Skeletons" and is actually the same story, only this time from Jared's POV.
I highly recommend that you read hers first! Here
Title: Backbone
Author: marlowe78
Rating: G ? or PG-13 ? I am still confused about those ratings (I would let a teenager under 17 read it, though. But I'm not from the US...)
Characters: Jared, Jensen
Word count: ~ 4.900
Warnings: mentions of violence, mentioned abuse of a minor, mentions of attempted suicide. Lots of swearing. NO SEX! This is gen, folks
Summary: Jared hasn't been counselor at Camp Gamble long. He always wanted to work with kids, but now it looks like he might be in over his head.
We fucked a bit with the ages. Jared is around 26, Jensen is 16. There will be no sex here!
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles are real people whom I've (sadly) never met. I know close-to nothing about them and borrowed their faces and names for my own fantasy (I hope I will be forgiven for that). I also very much regret to inform you that there will not be and has never been payment for me for writing this.
a/n: Many Thanks to soncnica, who not only inspired me and allowed me to use her story as the backbone to my own, but who also was so kind to play beta for me. (Aww, babe. It was NOT a bother to return the favour. I love playing all knowing and shit ;-))
So, knowing this is inspired by her story, you might find a lot of things that are exactly the same in both stories. Anything you recognize (since you have already read hers, right?) is written by her. Well, except the first paragraph, that one was mine ;-)
Have fun!
Backbone
On Monday, it rained. The whole day. The day-to-day-schedule stayed the same, only the shirts of the kids weren't drenched in sweat but rather soaked through completely.
On Tuesday, Nickolas Caruthers got a cold, ate too many cough-drops and puked on his shoes. And got constipated. He was coughing, sniffing and groaning on the toilet for hours, dumping his chores on other kids who had been smarter and maybe even able to read the patient-information-sheet.
On Wednesday, the world turned like it usually does, Michelle got a hickey and refused to tell anyone who had done it - got detention for her loyalty - and the mess-crew made spaghetti.
On Thursday, Jensen cracked. And it rained again. Poured actually.
Great.
---
It wasn’t supposed to be like ‘any other job’. Jared had looked forward to his position as the counselor at Camp Gamble. It was one of those last-chance-things, which was ironic, really, since it was for teenagers and youths under twenty-one, and how can anything be ‘last chance’ when your whole life has only just begun?
But even he, whose upbringing and life had been less than stellar as well, had found out that there were differences between growing up on the streets and making mistakes and being ‘last-chance-kids’, like these here.
These kids were a mess. No two words about it. Most of them came from good-situated, if not wealthy families, who could afford to pay their fees and could not afford to let their misfit-offsprings go to juvie.
But not all. There were street-kids as well, those few lucky ones the CPS cared enough about to not let them drop completely.
Like Kevin Miller, or Malcolm Brown. Both poor as church-mice, both in for repeated car-jacking. Both without a single violent bone in their bodies, despite their lack of chances so far. He liked them, liked to hear them talk. Was thrilled to see them form a friendship, even if they hadn’t been at camp for more than a week. Strange, to see the reddish-blond Miller from Milwaukee hang around with the dark-skinned Brown from Queens.
Jared hoped their bond would hold. It seemed it would, and he encouraged them as sneakily as possible. Nothing he could do would help them more than what they could do for themselves. He didn’t worry about those two. They would be fine.
And then, there was Jensen.
---
He stood in front of him, a picture of poorly-hidden aggression, pain, cold and misery. Jensen wore the ugly green shirt and the combat pants that were standard around here, that were issued to make them all one, equal. There was no social standing here, you damn well earned any privilege in the Camp or you didn’t, no matter your last name. No-one called you at your last name, either.
The teen sniffed.
“Hey, Jensen. Sit.”
Jensen shifted a bit, not meeting his eyes. He never did, not once since he’d gotten here. ‘Defiance against authority’, Jensen’s file said.
Something else, Jared’s gut had said.
His gut had been right. No kid tries to kill himself out of defiance.
“I’ll stand.”
“Okay, as you want.”
Give him as much control as you can. Jared tried to let him make the decisions, within reason. Still, the sneer Jared got for his patience hurt a little.
“Yeah, fine.” The kid rolled his eyes.
A thunderstorm was moving in. Had been announcing itself for a while now. The load growl in the sky made Jared flinch a little. He didn’t like storms.
It was getting dark in the room and the psychologist turned on the light. He had asked for warm, old-fashioned bulbs, no harsh halogen-lamps. No matter if they were bad for the environment; he couldn’t work with troubled kids in a room that looked like a hospital ward. Or prison.
Jared was sitting in his cord arm-chair, like the light chosen for comfort, not practicality. He had hung bright but soothing pictures on the walls as soon as he'd started here, only a year ago. He liked his office. It was cozier than his sleeping-room.
The kid in front of him was his personal project, had been from the first time he saw him.
“Jensen Ackles, sixteen. Here for repeated violent outbursts against his teachers, classmates and neighborhood-kids. He had been warned more than once. Parents interfered, paid the victims off. Don’t know if that was a good thing for the kid, made him act out even more. Assumed to be a bit slow.” Genevieve swirled her finger in a very recognizable gesture.
Jared valued Gen’s statements. She summed up most of the files for him so he didn’t have to read all twenty. She was small but tough, didn’t take shit from anyone. They often disagreed on assessments of the kids’ evaluation; she was a bit quicker to judge by appearance than Jared. Still, she gave everyone the same chance, never let her judgment cloud her behavior.
“Hm.” He had the file in front of him, a picture of the boy on top. Hair nearly the length of his own, hiding his face. Petulant, angry eyes under the mop of blond. Good-looking boy.
“… medication every day. We have to check.”
“What? Sorry.” He had been trying to assess the Ackles-kid - Jensen - through the picture, trying to figure him out. One look at that photo told him there was more to the boy than what his files said. What his family said. He didn’t look slow.
Gen had named an impossible list of drugs that had been prescribed to the youth. Jesus. How could anyone so young have so much shit in his system already? Tranquilizers, mood-equalizers, stuff against ADHD… It was a sad fact that a lot of people tried to medicate their problems away and assumed that a docile, half-asleep teenager meant he was normal, the way it should be. People…
Not even two hours later he stood in front of the furious boy who had kicked Jim in the balls for trying to cut his hair to the required length. It had taken three men to wrestle him into submission, and Jared had only heard of the incident when he got his order - sorry, ‘request’ - to talk to the “little shit” after the tranquilizers his family had provided wore off. Too late to prevent the use of sheer force.
Not the best first impression, really.
Jared noticed the barely-hidden violence in Jensen’s face, the darkening of his eyes. He couldn’t really blame him. The strict schedule the teens had to follow here, the physical exercises, the healthy but blunt food… Not much to look forward to in here. Not much to feel happy about and only sullen, angry and defiant teenagers around. Misery loves company.
The anger was nothing new. So many kids came here blustering with false or true bravado, with attitude to match. Some needed more than the camp and Jared were able to give.
All they’d get here was rules, a known frame of regulations that they could cling to. It was the same for everyone. It was never random, and most kids that came to Gamble craved that, even though they’d never admit it, probably never even knew.
Some teens came here because they were bored and stupid, some because they fell in with the wrong people. Some because they had needed money, some needed love and attention.
Some kids, though, some came here because they got angry and violent and never said a peep as to why. Like Jensen.
It wasn’t Jared’s first case like that, but it was less common than you’d think. Most kids really longed to talk to someone.
“You wanna talk today? About what happened with Kevin?”
He saw Jensen flinch. Jared had noticed that the boy reacted badly to kindness, usually getting on everyone’s nerves so bad that nobody ever bothered. He was determined to break him out of this habit.
The dim light hid Jensen’s eyes, touching them with darkness. He should ask for a better light-bulb.
“No, not really.”
Jared hadn’t expected different, but he had hoped. The boy refused to talk. At least he didn’t hit the crew with insults, like one of the girls, Clara, did. Man, she had a wicked tongue, knew just where to go to hurt the most.
He leaned forward, put his elbows on his thighs.
“He said you hit him. Broke his nose, actually.”
“Thad stoopied fug. I hade him. Fugger!”
Jared looked at Kevin in front of him. He was in bed, a wad of cotton stuffed in his nose, looking angry and embarrassed about his funny way of talking and the white brace in his face. Poor boy. Malcolm sat next to him, grinning every time his friend said something. Jared could barely keep from smiling himself.
“What happened?”
“Dunno” Malcolm shrugged. “The freak just jumped him, like those pit-bull-dogs. Could only just get him off Kev.”
Jared raised his brows. Malcolm was broad, muscular and at sixteen already six foot tall. Jensen should have been no match for him.
“Whatever.”
“Okay.”
Jared waited. Sometimes, silence made them talk. Jensen twitched, but stayed still.
“He told me he saw something… on your back.”
“I jusd asked him whad thad was on his bag.”
“His bag?”
“No, his BAG. Looked… like he had…” Kevin stopped, looked away.
“Like what?”
“Nothig.” And that had been the end of the conversation.
“No.” The boy’s eyes flicked back and forth, not resting anywhere. Never meeting his own.
“Jensen…”
Jensen fidgeted.
“Are you taking your pills?” He was pretty sure that Jensen was not. Jensen had changed, from the hostile, sullen but docile kid from the day his older brother had dropped him off to the twitchy, violent but scarily silent bag of anger he had in front of him now.
“Yes.”
Jared sighed. He could spot a lie that bad from ten miles away. Even though he hated to do it, he made a note to check the medication again and to supervise Jensen from now on while he took it. He didn’t want the boy to be drugged, but he wasn’t a psychiatrist, had no medical degree.
“Jensen, look… you’ve been here for a week, yeah?”
Jensen nodded.
“Okay, look… after the…” Jared stopped, tried to find a way to say ‘suicide attempt’ without outright saying it, “…incident…”
“Jensen!”
The utter shock of seeing a sixteen-year-old boy so desperate that he wanted to kill himself with a goddamn plastic-knife took his breath away. It hurt, and Jared wasn’t prepared for it to hurt. He had come to like the kid, had tried to make him talk, to get him out of the shell. But the stab in his gut was more than just professional sympathy.
Jared wasn’t stupid, knew too well what usually made kids act like Jensen, but without him saying what it was, his hands were tied. False accusations were a sure way for him to lose his job, was actually the reason he had a job. His predecessor had lost his because of too-quick judgment. Hadn’t mattered that Jeff swore it was true.
“Look, kid. I really want you to talk to me. About just anything, okay? No matter what. Maybe even how bad the food in the cafeteria is. Those spaghetti were kinda… overcooked,” he grimaced. They had been awful. “I don’t care, just… talk.”
“This is way above our pay-grade.”
“Mike… If I tell the boss, Jensen is out of here.”
“Maybe that’s better for him. I know you like him, but if he really tried to kill himself, do you think we can do anything? Even you aren’t qualified for that.”
“I know” Jared had scratched his head, watched the boy sleeping in the infirmary-bed he had put him in. Jensen had been given some sleeping pills, and the resigned way the kid had taken and swallowed them had made Jared feel like shit.
“So…”
“I don’t think putting him in a hospital, or a closed facility is going to do him any good. If what I suspect is true… If it’s what I think it is, it’ll make everything worse.”
“Jared, man. I don’t know. Suicide… He needs help, more than we can give.”
“Yes. But he needs help that isn’t influenced by the name Ackles.”
“You think…?”
“I think. Let me try and talk to him again. Just one more try.”
Thunder.
“Jensen,” Jared sighed, “if you’d just… talk to me, alright? I know I can’t make you, man, I wish I could, you know? Make you talk, -” the boy looked up at him and Jared counted it as a small win, even though there was a bit of fear in his face. “- make you just lose it, ya know? But I can’t… It has to be you. Just… I just wanna help you. I can help you if you’d let me.”
Jared needed proof. He wouldn’t normally push so hard, not with a kid like Jensen. It wasn’t the way he liked to do things, but sometimes, force was all that worked. Even if he suspected that kindness would break Jensen’s walls just as thoroughly, it would take too long. Trust needed time, and these kids were here only for two months. Not nearly enough for him, but more than enough for the boy to re-erect his defenses after his little break-down.
Or kill himself for real, this time.
When he looked up again, he noticed the pallor of Jensen’s skin. His breathing was irregular, his eyes seeking an exit, a way out. He looked like a trapped animal, and Jared was afraid that he had gone too far, even though he was pretty sure he hadn’t said enough.
“Jensen…”
The kid looked out of it, somewhere off in space. Jared contemplated to get help, but that would probably lead to more drugs.
“Jensen, hey.”
He stood, went over to Jensen, tried to see into his eyes, to judge how far out he was. He touched him, tried to ground him.
“Jensen, calm down.”
He got a push for his efforts, hard enough to make him stumble a bit.
“Stay away from me! Don’t you touch me!” That hurt, again. How could it hurt him so much that the kid didn’t trust him? It wasn’t even his kid.
“Jensen…”
He tried to get closer again, not far, a half-step and a lean, but it was too much. Before he even knew it - and he should have known, the signs had been there for everyone to see - a sharp, blinding pain took his breath away and blood was running from his split lip.
Embarrassingly, Jared went down. A scrawny, skinny kid had just knocked six-foot-four Jared on his ass. It was less than he deserved for his own stupidity. He looked up, stunned, and watched every bit of remaining color drain from Jensen’s face, watched the anger turn to fear, no, terror.
“Jensen!”
The instant Jensen turned, Jared knew it would happen. He had seen it in his eyes, the need to run, to escape. To get away. He had seen it before, but hadn’t recognized it. That day, just before Jensen tried to slit his wrist.
The door crashed open with a bang, letting the cold and rain into the cozy warmth of Jared’s world. He watched the kid slip on the steps, saw him fall and break his neck for a second, before the sharp wind dragged him back to reality, dragged him back to the sight of the green-clad boy running into the night.
“Hell, no. JENSEN!”
Jared was up and out before he knew it, grabbed the Maglite from the table and was after his charge. He would not lose this boy, he wouldn’t. Not him.
“Jensen!”
---
The forest surrounding the camp was dark, overgrown with spruce and fir, the soil soft from the fallen needles. The crew took the kids out every day, made them run, work and power themselves out to get rid of the excess- energy. It was a beautiful area.
But at night, it was mostly dark.
Jared felt the fern hit his legs, the slippery slope of the hill he was running up, trying to catch the boy in front of him. Amazing, how Jensen could be so fast. Despite his long legs, Jared had to work hard to gain ground, especially uphill.
Only the flash of naked skin told Jared that the kid had veered off the path. If he managed to lose him in the woods,let him get away too far, Jensen would be lost; it would take days to find him in the vast forest, days in only a shirt; wet, miserable, suicidal. Jared lengthened his strides.
---
“Jensen, right?” First meeting. Every kid got a first meeting with Jared Padalecki. It was in the rules. Right on top: “After arrival, first assessment by the camp-counselor.”
Silent defiance greeted him, but not a hint of low intelligence. Yes, his eyes were dull, but considering what was supposedly in his bloodstream, it was a wonder the boy didn’t sway on his feet.
“Okay, do you want to sit down?”
The boy didn’t move an inch.
“Jensen, I‘m not here to hurt you. I‘m here to help you.” Jared had spoken slowly, but not condescending. Got a snort for his trouble.
“Okay, well then… uh… I’ll talk and you listen.”
---
The night was black, the shadows from the trees tinted the darkness even deeper, threw shapes on the floor. The needles made the footfalls soft, barely audible.
Jared stopped, tried to get a bearing, tried to hear the boy’s frantic feet over his own thundering heartbeat. The flashlight would be no good, if he looked into the light his eyes wouldn’t adjust fast enough to see what was outside the narrow beam. He still kept it on, pointed to the ground.
---
“So, your parents brought you here, because you got into some trouble back home, right?”
Joshua Ackles had brought him here, actually. Not his parents. The young man had looked at his brother with sadness and a little hope, had tried to give the teen a hug but hadn’t pressed when Jensen turned away. Jared had observed the older man sigh and walk backwards to the car. Ackles hadn’t seen the pain in his brother’s eyes, had only been given his back.
Jared’s gut had twisted at the sight.
Silence. Blink.
“Alright, can you tell me about that a little?” The files were clear, but he suspected more than just a temper-tantrum behind the bloodied nose of the school’s quarterback. Most kids tried to defend themselves, sometimes with ridiculous excuses.
But nothing from Jensen.
--
His heart twisted, made a leap when he heard a twig break. To his left. Jared didn’t think, just spun and ran, praying to God that it wasn’t a deer.
If Jensen died… He wouldn’t let him die. Not out here, not in there. No-where. He never wanted to feel the gut-wrenching fear again of seeing the boy with a knife at his arm, even pointing up towards his elbow, not just across the wrist. Jensen had meant it.
---
It had stopped pouring, but everything was still wet, slippery and cold. The night-animals weren’t out again, yet, and the silence was oppressing.
---
“Why did you wanna do that?” Why did you want to kill yourself? What is so bad that you want to die at sixteen?
Silence. Jensen looked at the floor, didn’t raise his eyes.
“Don’t… Jensen, look at me, come on. Eyes on me.” Jared snapped his fingers in front of the boy’s eyes. Jensen looked up, but flinched away again.
“Jensen, come on...”
He took his wrist, just a gentle touch, feather-like. He didn’t want to restrain but console, give him focus. Something to lean on.
“Okay, this is what we’re gonna do: I won’t tell anyone else. Not yet. Mike knows, but he’ll keep quiet for now. I don’t want you gone just yet. I think this place can help you, give you something. I’ll talk to a colleague. Ask him if we could drop some of those pills. Just some of them, so you don’t feel so …” he wanted to say ‘helpless’, but no kid liked to hear that word attached to them “...numb all the time.”
Jensen was just sitting there, not making eye-contact.
“I’d like to know more about you. I want… I think I can help you. I hope I can. But to do so, to keep you here, we need some ground-rules. You come here every day, talk to me. About whatever you want, I don’t care. I’ll be your sounding-board and you just… you just talk. ‘S that ok?”
No reaction.
“Jensen? It’s your decision, you can stay and come every day to me, or we need to tell someone else what you tried to do. Your choice, but you’re gonna have to give me some feedback here, dude.”
Jared smiled at him, locking eyes with the kid.
“Okay.”
Jared grinned: “Awesome.”
--
His feet hurt, his lungs ached. How could this skinny kid run so fast? Why didn’t he stumble over the vines, like Jared did all the time? What good were long legs if they couldn’t keep up with desperation?
--
“How are ya today?”
“Fine.
That was pretty much all that came out of the kid that day. This would take a load of patience.
--
“What do you wanna talk about today?
“I know who gave Michelle that hickey.”
“You?”
“No, not me.” Jensen smiled a little at that.
They talked for an hour. Mostly Jensen, but Jared got some words in, a joke here and there. The kid was everything but stupid. In fact, there was a sharp intelligence behind those huge eyes, only sometimes glittering out. He understood far more than anyone gave him credit for, was quick as a whip. How a parent could assume the boy was dumb was beyond him, how any doctor couldn’t see Jensen was smart and just prescribe drugs to a boy full of hormones was bordering on criminal.
Only after Jensen left to do his chores did Jared realize that in all their talking, not once had the subject been close to anything personal.
He still decided to count it as a win.
---
He had stopped calling for Jensen long ago. The boy wouldn’t listen and Jared suspected that he didn’t even hear him.
But Jared heard. The underbrush was crackling and shifting, the fern gave the fugitive away with its swish-swish-swish against the cargo-pants. Now that the forest got denser, Jared had the advantage. He gained ground quickly and when he saw Jensen entering a small clearing, briefly illuminated against the deeper darkness of the forest. He grabbed his chance and gave his all.
---
“Jensen broke Kevin’s nose”
“What? Why?”
“What do I know? You are the shrink around here. Go, do your job. Find out. But one more thing like this and I have to tell about the knife. You know I have to.”
“Yes. I know. Thanks, Mike.”
--
He ran and he jumped, tackled the fleeing boy from behind, wrapped his arms around him and tried to cushion the fall.
Jensen still let out an ‘umph’ when they crashed to the floor. He rolled them over, didn’t want to suffocate the kid. Jared wasn’t exactly skinny.
“Jensen…” he huffed.
The boy struggled, desperate, tried to get away. Jared wrapped his legs around him, pinning him down.
“Calm down.”
Didn’t help. Jensen only struggled stronger, fought with all he got, tried to bite him and only the fact that his arms were too low on the smaller body prevented teeth marking his arms.
Jensen kicked and bucked. Jared pinned his legs down with more force. The fight was absolutely uneven, the counselor so much stronger than the boy. Still, the utter silence was eerie and what Jensen lacked in weight he made good in determination.
He tried to move his arms but Jared just squeezed them tighter to his side, right against his ribs.
Jared pinned him hard, kept him close. That was why he noticed the irregular breathing at once, the panic-induced hiccups, the low keening in the teenager’s throat.
“Jensen, shhh, shhh, shhh… come on… breathe. Come on… come on… come on. Calm down.”
He needed to calm him down, couldn’t have him hyperventilating, not after that run.
“Shh shh shhh, Jensen. Shhhhhh, that’s it, slow and easy, shhh…”
The breathing slowed but stumbled, hitched. Jared let go a little, gave Jensen more room.
A sob.
Jared felt like a perverted asshole to be relieved that he finally made the kid cry.
He let him move, let him crawl into himself, curl up and seek all the comfort his own body was able to give. He still didn’t let go completely.
Another sob.
And one more.
“That’s it… ‘s it Jensen. Come on.”
He let him cry, let him get rid of all the tears he had. Let him shake on the ground and fall apart completely, determined to get him back together later, to make him whole. Jared ached for the kid.
“Please…” Jensen whimpered, fucking whimpered!
“Please what Jensen?”
Jensen sobbed, couldn’t answer. Fell apart some more and Jared held him, drew him close, protected him from the night and the cold around them.
He waited. There was enough time, now. Except that his pants were wet, and Jensen was soaked. He decided to push a bit more.
“Please, what? Huh?”
The boy drew in a breath, like he needed all his bravery for what was to come.
“Dontmakemegohome… please.”
Jared was silent, grit his teeth to not growl in anger. He had known it, but he had hoped to be wrong. How he had ached to be wrong…
The ground was wet and hard.
Jensen’s face was wet from tears and snot.
Jared’s arms hurt.
The last of the drizzle stopped.
It was a pretty cold night.
“Talk to me… say whatever you want.”
Jensen shook his head.
“Come on… whatever comes to your mind.”
He needed proof, now. Needed it, but didn’t want to dig too deep. Had pushed so fast and hard already.
“The closet smells of sweaty shoes.” The words were so low, nearly a whisper. They didn’t really make sense, except that they did. Jared’s insides cramped in anger and sympathy.
“What closet?”
“And it’s like you’re blind, it’s that dark in there. And spiders crawl over ya.”
The voice was shot to shit and he couldn’t pull in a full breath. Jensen sounded bad, so bad. Still, the floodgate had opened and the water needed out.
“What closet, Jensen?”
“They wa- ant me to die. They tell… tell me that e-every day. Why did they fuck then, if they didn’t wa-ant me?”
Jared was silent. Heard the heartbreak in those words, the misery and pain and utter, utter loneliness. How could anyone do that to a boy like Jensen? Why would anyone do that to any kid? To anyone.
“It’s not my… my fault… ‘s not.” he whispered.
Jared swallowed: “No, ‘s not.”
“No one cares. Hav-ve no friends. They don’t.. don’t want me to ha-ave ‘em. Said I’m retarded. I’m not,” he sniffled, “‘m not. Said they’ll hurt me if I say so-something at this camp. Said not to talk to anyone or else…”
“Hey, hey…”
“I wish they’d kill me… som-sometimes… just… do it… already.”
“Jensen…” Don’t say that, don’t say that. Don’t give up. Hold on, it will get better, can’t get worse. I’ll make sure, I promise, I fucking promise.
But the words didn’t come out.
He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Felt the kid relax against him, felt him sag with the admission, with the weight dropped from his shoulders.
Jensen moved; wiped his eyes, the snot from his face. Grabbed Jared’s forearm. The teenager was shaking; his whole body shook like a leaf on a rainy day. Shook in Jared’s arms.
There was no moon in the sky tonight.
No stars.
Just blackness.
“He hits me.” A whisper.
“Who?” Whisper. I know.
“Dad.” Whisper.
“Where?” Whisper. I think I know.
“Back.” Whisper.
Jared nodded against Jensen’s wet nape, Jensen’s hair tickling his forehead.
“Can I look? I aint’ gonna touch, just gonna look, okay?”
He felt him stiffen up again, smoothed his hands over the boy’s chest to calm him. He didn’t really need to see, but… well. If he let him look now, it would maybe be easier to let the Doc look at it later, enable him to go through that whole embarrassing shebang with pictures and filled forms and written statements.
“Yeah…” Whisper.
Jared untangled his legs and rolled to sit. Jensen didn’t move, still lying on his left side, staring into the darkness.
Jared fished for his flashlight that was lying near Jensen’s sneaker, forgotten, illuminating the woods behind their backs.
“s okay, just me, alright?” Whisper.
He grabbed the hem of Jensen’s wet and muddy shirt and lifted it, his hands trembling when he bunched it up at Jensen’s nape.
He swallowed.
Jensen’s back was criss-crossed with angry red welts, lines only a belt can cause. A belt on naked skin. They weren’t fresh looking, were just there… all over.
Jensen shivered. His vertebrae seen so clearly in the yellow light.
“Jensen… when did he last do this?” Whisper. How could he have done that?
“Two weeks ago, maybe more. He… my dad… loves the belt. The thin one.” It looked more like it had been done by a whip.
“Okay, ‘s okay.” Jared whispered into the night, into Jensen’s sweaty, rain-soaked hair. He was lying. It wasn’t ok. Not even close.
But he’d make sure it would be.
End?
a/n: Thanks for reading. If you haven't already, check out soncnicas part of this story. (Link on top)