Gunshy - Part 3
Masterpost
Part 3
Jared doesn't even bother pretending that he wants to spend the weekend alone; they take the dogs back to his apartment and eat at The Italian Village - Jensen's into eggplant parmigiana, and Jared's not going to complain about Italian food - and spend most of Sunday at Jared's kitchen table. Jensen finishes writing up the reports for the cases they've had in the past few months, and Jared catches up on the backlog of paperwork. Monday morning, he's still not cleared for fieldwork, but it's not like they can ban him from sitting around Jensen's office.
Jared stops at the coffee shop down the street while Jensen's parking the car, and by the time he gets inside, he realizes that something's going on, mostly because Katie Heigl is standing next to Jeff's desk.
"We got a fingerprint match on the victim," Jeff says, leaning back at his desk.
"Missing person?" Jared says.
"Criminal," Jeff says. "But the record is sealed."
"My guess is it was petty," Katie says. "Misdemeanor at best, because they shut the record with some community service, but the prints are still valid."
"Diana Ford," Jeff says, hitting a couple of keys. "We're running records now."
"Autopsy indicated asphyxia," Jensen says, swiping his coffee from Jared's holder. "In conjunction with the crushed hyoids of the prior victims, it's probable that the cause of death is a unifying factor."
Katie blinks, twice.
"Strangulation MO," Jared translates.
"Completely different neighborhood than where the victims were found," Jeff says, pulling sheets of paper out of the printer. "So either our killer's expanding his range or the original bodies were moved in."
"The methodology has been similar every time," Jared says. "And they've all been teenage girls, so my guess is that there's a victim pattern."
"I'll have the family's contact information soon," Jeff says, and Katie tosses her jacket over the back of Jeff's chair and jerks her head toward the hallway.
"You got a minute?" she says, and Jared's not exactly surprised when she runs a hand through her hair and makes a face he recognizes from years of FBI work.
"It's your case," she says. "I'm not messing with that, and I'm sure as hell not trying to step on your toes, because you do good work and if there's anyone I'd want knocking on my door if this were my kid, it's you. But they assigned me to cover the field aspect until you're back on your feet." She leans back against the door. "It's not like you're off the case, you're just not canvassing. They need you to stay here and put it all together. Coordinate the taskforce."
Ordinarily, Jared would fight forced leave like hell, especially since he knows they're bribing him with taskforce leader to keep him off active duty, but Jensen's watching him across the room, and Jared knows that the only way they're going to catch this son of a bitch is if they can weave together the forensic evidence with the human aspect.
"Yeah," Jared says. "Headquarters is going to be around here, though. I'm not making my people run across town every time someone finds something in the lab." He doesn't think too hard about the fact that Jensen and Jeff and the other people at the ME's office are his first priority; science always gets pushed on the backburner in serial cases, and Jared's got a feeling that science is what's going to nail this one.
"Fair deal," Katie says, and Jared's almost ashamed to note that she looks relieved. "I'll bring back my notes."
By the time Katie and her partner leave, Jared's already being faxed paperwork. It only takes half an hour for the temporary workstation permit to come through; Jared's officially in charge of office space in an office building a few blocks away.
"You got it covered here?" Jared asks Jensen, who looks up from the skeleton spread out across the table, focusing on Jared over his glasses.
"Absolutely," Jensen says. "Go exhibit leadership capabilities."
"Thanks," Jared says, dryly.
By the end of the morning, Jared's finally starting to get somewhere, even if he's confined to a chair while junior Agent Westwick sets up the victim profile boards. They have three Jane Does and Diana Ford, arranged in chronological order. Jared looks up half way through arranging a designated tip line to find Westwick shoving the boards apart violently. Jared doesn't know the guy all that well, but the frustration is obvious.
"Mid eighties, late eighties, nineties, now," Westwick says. "Look at the pattern, it doesn't add up. There's a ten year gap, and the years are off."
"We're missing bodies," Jared says, finally. "Stay here and wait for Agent Heigl, I'll talk to forensics."
Unfortunately, talking to forensics mostly involves Jensen and Kristen dragging him to lunch before he can point out much of anything.
"Nice of you to order the kid to stay in the office over lunch," Kristen says. "What's the rush again?"
"Look," Jared says, sliding a timeline across the table at her. "We're missing at least two skeletons, probably more like four." He gestures with a chopstick at the gaps in the timeline. "Not to mention how long it's been since the media coverage first broke."
"You need a more detailed PMI and a better idea of the killer's motivation and method," Jensen says, between bites of lo mein. "More accurate time of death could indicate a stronger pattern. Serial killers tend to progressively increase their number of kills. We might only be looking at two skeletons in the 80s, but the likelihood of there being none between the early nineties and now is, statistically speaking, incredibly low."
"Great," Jared says. "For the first time in my career, I want to find more bodies."
Kristen spears one of Jared's dumplings. "I'll make some calls," she says. "I've got a friend who might be willing to give you a hand. We'll see what we can do."
Jared takes Westwick back some chicken fried rice and a container of egg drop soup, but when he gets back, he finds him in the middle of a sea of paperwork. Westwick ignores the food and holds up a folder.
"I think I found something else," he says. "Agent Heigl will probably back it up, but -" He passes Jared a piece of paper. "I've been looking at the records for Diana Ford. No parents, just an aunt who's been hit on possession charges three times in the last two years, and she dropped out of high school at sixteen. There are night school transcripts and she's got a job at the local grocery store, but I doubt there's anyone who'd notice if she'd gone missing. Maybe missing persons reports weren't filed on these girls because there was nobody to file them."
Jared knows from years of experience that things in the criminal justice system always come out uneven; prostitutes and runaways and people living beneath the poverty line are easier to murder than anyone affluent, mostly because nobody gives a damn. This guy has been killing women for thirty years and they've only noticed in the past three months, and there's something incredibly wrong about that.
"Nice work, Ed," Jared says, because fury at the lack of social justice in the world isn't going to help anyone catch the bastard. "Go across the street and talk to Jeff Morgan. He's working on identifying the victims."
Jared's about to follow Westwick over to the ME's office when someone knocks on his door; it's Katie's partner, Agent Meester.
"Hey, Jared," she says, and Jared suddenly knows why there are rules against sleeping with coworkers. An inability to stop thinking about what someone looks like naked isn't all that great in a crisis situation. "I heard you're stuck on desk duty, Jay." She grins. "You should really stop letting Katie get you shot."
"Spoken like someone with experience," Jared says.
"Sorry," Leighton says. "It's just that aiming for you is like shooting at the broad side of a barn."
She passes over a folder, suddenly looking less amused. "No one's seen her since last week, which fits into the timeline, but there wasn't really anyone to notify. Parents are dead, the only surviving adult in the household is serving three months. She left her little brother with the neighbors last Tuesday on her way to night school and never came back to pick him up. Child services is over there now with Katie."
"Thanks, Lee," he says. "I'll get it to Jeff."
"Not a problem," she says, and lets herself out with a smile.
Jared uploads the notes to the system, sending Jeff an e-mail, and spends the rest of the afternoon finishing the command center. The problem is, they've got no suspects, not even a profile, and no DNA evidence. Jared knows a dead end case when he sees one, and without better identification or more bodies, it's going nowhere fast. He's almost through the last of the paperwork when he notices Jensen leaning in the doorway.
"Jeff's onto something," he says. "Do you mind if I stay at your place? I don't want to have to come back to confirm at 2 a.m."
Jared's used to wanting space when he works cases like this - reason number one that at least two of his former partnerships didn't work out - but he's surprised to realize that he doesn't actually want to go home to an empty house.
"Yeah," he says. "You want to stop for pizza or something?"
"Sounds good," Jensen says, with a smile. "Just don't try to sneak on mushrooms again."
Jensen works at Jared's desk for most of the evening while Jared watches bad disaster movies with the dogs, and when Jensen gives up around eleven and takes the other side of the couch, Jared feels some of the tension starting to ease out.
"This is completely scientifically inaccurate," Jensen points out, looking simultaneously horrified and fascinated; Jared's not entirely sure if he means the aliens or the computer science.
"Yeah, but Will Smith is awesome," Jared argues, trying not to laugh.
Jensen grins. "In terms of Will Smith alien movies, Men in Black was a lot more entertaining."
"On the other hand, Independence Day wins this argument based on one crucial factor," Jared says.
"Yeah?" Jensen says, reaching across the table to take Jared's beer.
"No talking dogs," Jared points out, laughing, and Jensen holds up his hands in mock surrender and spends the rest of the movie pointing out just how inaccurate everything is. Jared's surprised to find that he doesn't really mind.
Jensen's still awake when Jared goes to bed, and he's exhausted enough that he barely wakes up when Jensen slides in on his other side. Jared's so far under that he sleeps through both his cell and Jensen's pager going off; he only wakes up when Jensen shakes his shoulder, pulling on a sweatshirt.
"Jeff's got another ID," Jensen says. "I have to go confirm. You staying or coming with?" Jensen's hand is oddly warm against his shoulder, and Jared leans into the touch, still not awake, pressing his face against Jensen's shirt for a second. Jensen pulls back abruptly, and Jared blinks, trying to wake up.
"I don't think I'm good to drive," Jared admits; he's unbelievably tired, and the vicodin he took before bed isn't exactly lending itself to the ability to focus.
"I think I can handle it," Jensen says, with what seems like forced smile, and Jared manages to pull himself together enough to put on some jeans and a sweater.
They don't talk on the way downtown, and Jared's starting to worry when Jensen pushes him back past the skeletons and toward one of the holding rooms. Jeff's sitting at one of the tables lit from underneath, x-rays spread out across the entire surface. There's an enormous stack of files next to him, and he looks exhausted, which is when Jared looks at his watch and realizes it's close to three in the morning.
"Here, and here," Jeff says, pointing to two of the x-rays, marked with sticky notes, and Jensen leans over the table and slides them around.
"Similar fillings, distinctive bite pattern," Jensen says. "Left mandibular canine tilts in a mesial direction. More pronounced in the second set." He pulls over a magnifying glass. "And there's been work done to the TMJ, sinus pattern is similar, although we'd need a different radiographic view to confirm that."
Jensen looks up. "I'd want to finish off the loose ends if we were presenting in court, but the dental records match up."
"Then the first skeleton we found was Anna Barlow," Jeff says.
Looking for matching dental records with no presumptive ID is the equivalent of finding a needle in a stack of needles; most dental records are hard copies, physical x-ray films rather than electronic images, and it's not possible to search the database for specific characteristics.
"Did CODIS turn up a hit after all?" Jared says, and Jeff shakes his head.
"Your agent was talking about selecting unobtrusive victims, and there's a low cost dental clinic in the neighborhood where the most recent woman disappeared," Jeff says. "I got a warrant to check their records for matches against our skulls."
"Two out of four victims from one neighborhood," Jared says, finally. "I guess we know his hunting grounds."
"I'm going to check the rest of the dental records in the morning," Jeff says. "If I don't get a match for the other two skeletons, I'll try medical."
"I'll send Katie over for the address," Jared says, and waits for Jensen to lock up in the car.
"I could drop you off," Jensen says, tight, once he's in the driver's seat, and Jared stops fiddling with Jensen's mp3 player attachment and leans over until their shoulders are touching.
"Hey," he says, "what's wrong?"
Jensen looks at him for a long minute, and Jared settles closer, watching him.
"Sorry," Jensen says, with a tired smile that's still too tight around the edges. "I'm just - it's been a long day."
"Hard case," Jared says, nudging his shoulder up against Jensen's again.
"Yeah," Jensen says, and Jared watches the tension ease out of his shoulders. "I hate not knowing."
There's a long pause, and Jared reaches a hand up to settle against the back of Jensen's seat, wrapping his hand just behind Jensen's shoulder, reassuring.
"We're rushing," Jensen says, breathing out, hands tight on the steering wheel. "It's four in the morning and Jeff's still in the lab. It's bad science, you miss things when you're on this long. I would've missed that dental match if it hadn't been right in front of me."
"Yeah," Jared says. "But you would've gone back. It's just -" he feels his hand go tight involuntarily, and winces when it hits his ribs. "Serial killers and kidnapping victims, we're all fighting the goddamned clock, and it's been a hard week." He manages a smile. "But you should stay at my place. It's four in the morning."
There's another long pause, Jensen just looking at him in the dark, and Jared spends a minute thinking that maybe this case is getting to both of them more than he thought when Jensen's grip abruptly relaxes on the steering wheel. "Yeah," Jensen says, "okay," and when he pulls out into traffic, things feel better.
The ID files for all but one of the victims are on Jared's desk the next morning, and he's not even half way through his first cup of coffee when Westwick shows up, hauling a file cart full of boxes.
"The records are too old to be electronic," he says, "but I'm going to scan them and start looking for common names."
Jared takes a break from transferring victim data to the whiteboard to make a bagel run, and when he gets back, there's someone in the conference room, looking at Anna Barlow's board.
"Can I help you?" Jared says; he's expecting more agents, but the guy obviously isn't FBI.
"Special Agent Padalecki?" he says. "I'm Zach Quinto."
Jared's got a nagging sense that he's heard the name before; maybe in a paper abstract or on a case file.
"I don't think we've met," Jared says, sticking out a hand, and Zach looks at him for a moment before shaking it.
"I'm a friend of Kristen's," he says. "I usually consult for Washington, but I was up from Langley on a serial homicide in Detroit. She said you needed some assistance."
"CIA?" Jared says.
"Not exactly. I'm a forensic psychologist," he says, with a polite smile. "You can hold the requisite Hannibal Lector jokes. Bell said you had victim profiles I could take a look at?"
"Be my guest," Jared says.
Jared has three of the whiteboards almost completed, but he's not surprised that Zach heads for the unfinished one first.
"There's an idea that serial killers are all sociopaths," Zach says, absently. "Living in abandoned houses, stalking people, socially maladjusted. Jeffrey Dahmer, Eddie Gein. But it's really just a polite fiction. There are plenty of highly functioning murderers. People would rather think of things that go bump in the night."
"Most murders aren't committed by strangers," Jared agrees, and Zach puts his hands in his pockets.
"This is all about control," he says. "There's precision to it. You're looking for someone - late forties to fifties, white male, with a solid grasp of anatomy. It's not actually easy to strangle someone, and it's unbelievably difficult to do it in the same way over and over again. It means he has a method." Zach rubs his thumb through a stray mark on one of the white boards, and Jared watches him think.
"High education level, something like a PhD or MD, and he definitely was in contact with the victims. They're brutally murdered, but the crime scene photos -" Zach gestures to Westwick's incomplete timeline, filled in with polaroids. "There's something delicate about that. They're arranged, not just stuffed in the trunks."
"We think there might be more bodies," Jared says.
"Almost definitely," Zach says. "Everything else here has ritual. You're missing at least two victims, late 1990s, maybe around 2002 or 2003, but there might be earlier kills that were less precise. You should look for the strangulation MO and bodies in trunks, but don't expect the skeletons to be cleaned and don't expect the victims to have the same link that the others do."
Jared doesn't particularly want to think about the amount of work that's going to have to go into finding an earlier victim; most of the 1970s case files aren't digitized yet, and that's operating under the assumption that they aren't looking for a body that's still in an attic somewhere.
"I apologize," Zach says, leaning back against Jared's desk. "That probably wasn't what you wanted to hear." He shifts, straightening one of his cuffs absently. "I'd be happy to take a closer look later, but I told Kristen I'd meet her at the lab, and I'd really like a cup of coffee."
"There's a Starbucks near the lab," Jared says, and when Zach holds the door open, Jared grabs his coat and follows him downstairs.
Jared's used to sizing people up for a living, and over the years, he's gotten decent at figuring someone out in under thirty seconds and trusting his first impression. It doesn't take much to tell that Zach is intense but solid, the kind of guy Jared would trust to have his back, and Jared likes him off the bat, but there's something that doesn't quite fit. It isn't until they're downstairs and halfway through the line that Jared manages to place it. He can't stop looking at Zach's hands, casually wrapped around a cup of coffee, the way he stirs in sugar, and Jared's pulse picks up when he offers the barista a smile.
Jared doesn't go for guys that often, but he grew out of trying to deny occasional attraction when he was twenty, and Jared figures looking a little too long at Kristen's friend isn't exactly going to hurt anyone. Zach's formal, thoughtful, not Jared's usual type, but even if Jared hasn't seen him anything less than completely calm, he's almost positive there's something underneath the calm exterior, something that makes him want to push.
"Through here?" Zach says, glancing at the right hallway when they're in the lobby of the ME's office, and Jared stops himself from stepping too close.
"Straight back," he says, following with the coffee carrier, and narrowly avoids spilling all of it when Kristen appears out of nowhere and grabs Zach.
"I'm going to spill," Zach protests, but he's laughing. Jared's stomach flips.
"You said you'd be here at ten, Quinto," Kristen says, grinning, and hits him.
Zach rubs his shoulder, then pushes back, finally looking something close to relaxed.
Kristen's friendly with almost everyone, but there's something different about the way she and Zach are nudging each other. Jared steps back to watch, and barely notices when Jeff comes up next to him to grab a coffee.
"They were housemates for four years in college," he says. "It's a sibling thing, not a romantic one." He sounds amused. "And you're looking at them like Jensen looks at bones. Stop overanalyzing."
Jared grins. "People are a lot easier to figure out than skeletons."
"To the contrary," Jeff says. "Jensen thinks he's got another dental match."
"I do," Jensen says, leaning around Jared to take the last cup out of the carrier. "I cross-checked medical records for the ulnar fracture, came up with some names, and started looking at dentals. Crystal O'Conner has four distinct fillings and a chipped maxillary M2."
"From the same dental clinic as the others?" Jared says.
"Don't make me do your job for you, Padalecki," Jensen says, grinning.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Jared says, and heads back to headquarters.
Six hours later, they're not exactly closer, but Jared at least feels like they're making progress. Westwick and Zach have been bent over the same folding table since lunch, adding details to the victim profiles, and when Jared tries to stretch, he realizes he's been in one position for way too damn long.
"Dinner break?" he suggests, and Westwick glances at his watch and winces.
"I'm supposed to be meeting Lee in twenty minutes," he says.
"Kristen says there's a decent pizza place two blocks north of here," Zach says. "If you weren't planning on heading home -"
"Pizza sounds great," Jared says.
Twenty minutes later, sitting across from Zach, Jared's starting to realize that he's way too tired to compartmentalize. Every time their legs brush under the table, he's trying not to jump, and the way the guy is unwrapping his straw is turning Jared on. It's starting to get pathetic.
"Case getting to you?" Zach says, finally, leaning back in the booth, and Jared finally gives up on rearranging the sugar packets and laughs.
"Something like that," he says.
"Didn't anyone ever mention that lying to psychologists is inadvisable?" Zach says, grinning. "Kristen claims you're intelligent, but I'm not entirely sure I'm convinced."
"Thanks," Jared says, amused in spite of himself.
"She likes you," Zach says. "She says she approves of Jensen and Jeff taking in strays when they're as attractive as you are."
Jared should probably be embarrassed, but it's Kristen. "And people think she's nice."
Zach grins to himself. "Individuals who haven't discovered her venomous spider collection."
"It's the ones she keeps in the fridge you have to worry about," Jared says, and Zach's smile widens as he leans forward, bracing himself against the table.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't really seem like the type," Zach says. "Two years in Iraq as a contractor when you could have had a desk job, spending time with scientists, turning down a promotion to second in command at the D.C. field office just to work on a bunch of unsolved murders in the Midwest. Not the typical Special Agent."
"What'd you do, steal my file from Jeff?" Jared says.
"Something to that effect," Zach says, and Jared lets himself play with the silverware.
"I hate desk work," he says. "They put me on Jensen because they ran out of agents in the Chicago office to partner up with me. Something just - clicked with him, you know? Felt right. Kept clicking. That's worth more to me than a promotion."
"So you two are -" Zach says, with a gesture that it takes Jared a minute to interpret, and then he almost chokes on his beer.
"God, no," he says. "Just partners. Friends."
Zach looks at him for a long minute. "Kristen either didn't know or wasn't comfortable telling me. Are you interested in men?"
"Uh," Jared says, trying to figure out how they got from Jensen to here. "Sometimes."
"I'm only here until the case is closed," Zach says. "But if you were interested in something casual, I wouldn't be entirely opposed to getting dinner and spending a few hours at my hotel."
"We're eating already," Jared says, then lets his brain catch up to his mouth and feels his face heat.
"Something off the FBI's tab," Zach says, smiling again. "Tomorrow, maybe."
"Yeah," Jared says, "yeah, I'd like that," and manages to grin back.
The next morning, Jared's phone goes off at 4:58 AM, half an hour before he's planning to be up.
"Padalecki," he says, still not entirely awake; he's getting soft.
"Sleeping in, Jared?" Katie says, sounding amused. "Westwick thinks he's got something. Skip the morning run."
"Give me half an hour," Jared says.
In reality, it's an hour before he makes it in; Jared's five minute shower routine isn't too effective with a broken rib, and traffic near the loop is murder. When he gets to the temporary field office, it's full of agents, and Zach is there, wearing the same clothes he had on at dinner the night before. He passes over a cup of coffee, looking tired.
"If you're looking for Special Agent Westwick, he's sitting at your desk," Zach says.
"Thanks," Jared says, and ducks around three or four people to get across the room.
Westwick's sitting in Jared's chair, holding a cup of coffee and trying to type one handed, and Jared gets the impression that he's been here all night.
"What've you got?" Jared says, and Westwick jumps, staring for a second, then turns the laptop around.
"Jim Beaver," Westwick says. "Fifty-nine, Field Museum security guard, med school drop out, and," Westwick's grin is almost triumphant, "security consultant for the West Dental Clinic."
"Well, goddamn," Jared says, and claps Westwick on the shoulder. "Let's bring him in for questioning."
Zach clears his throat. "You don't have evidence," he says. "He won't just confess. He may be brutal, but he's not entirely lacking in intelligence."
"We need something solid," Katie says. "Something to nail him."
"He'll be frustrated by the discovery of his last victim," Zach says. "It's possible he may become careless."
"We could assign a detail," Jared suggests.
"You'll want to switch out the agents and the cars every few hours," Zach says.
"Lee and I can take point," Katie says. "Four hour rotation?"
"That should be enough to avoid suspicion," Zach agrees. "You'll want civilian clothes and civilian cars."
"Let's start tonight," Jared says. "Nice and easy. Talk to some of the neighbors this afternoon while we're sure he's at work, get their cooperation. Lee can head over to the Field, investigate a docent or two just to make sure of his location while we scope out the neighborhood."
"You got it," Katie says.
Three hours later, Jared's on his third cup of coffee, trying to coordinate a twenty-three agent rotation from a second floor glorified supply closet. It's the only place he's been able to get any quiet since the rest of the task force trickled in at seven a.m. When the door to his makeshift office slams open, he's not entirely sure who he's expecting, but it's not Jensen.
"Jeff says there's a suspect," he says. "He says you're planning on participating in a stakeout."
Jared realizes, belatedly, that Jensen's pissed.
"Uh," Jared says. "Just one shift?"
Jensen's mouth is set in a very stubborn line. "I'm going with you."
"You're not FBI," Jared says.
"I'm your partner," Jensen argues. "You have a broken rib. If anything goes wrong, I should be there."
"Do you even know how to use a gun?" Jared says, a little desperately. He already knows he's going to lose this one.
The corner of Jensen's mouth quirks up into a smile. "I lived in Rwanda for two months," he says. "I'm… proficient. You can give me a refresher after lunch if you're that concerned."
"I really can't teach you to shoot in an afternoon," Jared says.
"I'll see you at one," Jensen says. "Don't sign anyone else up for your shift."
When Jared shows up at 1:15, Jensen's already at the range, holding the Beretta Jared keeps in his desk at work.
"Thanks for stealing my gun," Jared says, dryly.
"Thanks for arranging a stakeout without me," Jensen says. "Let's make this fast, I've got remains to identify."
"Seriously," Jared says, pulling on safety glasses and a pair of ear protectors. "I can't teach you to shoot in an afternoon."
"Jared," Jensen says.
Jared gives up and steps in behind him, settling his hands on Jensen's hips to guide him into the right position, pressed up close against his back. "Watch for the recoil," he says. "Just feel it out. You're probably not going to hit anything right now, but just learn how to let your hands absorb the force."
Jared slides his hands up to readjust Jensen's shoulders, staying close. He feels Jensen's breathing pick up - Jared wasn't exactly too steady his first time shooting either, so he's not exactly surprised. Jensen's not bad with the posture, even if he's too tense, and Jared allows himself a brief moment of thinking that Jensen might be able to hit something by the time he takes him on detail.
"Just relax into it," Jared says.
"Jared," Jensen says, patiently, and Jared steps back.
He's about to warn Jensen that taking more than one shot is probably unnecessary when Jensen fires three times, rapid and easy. He doesn't break posture and doesn't fight the recoil, and when Jared hits the switch to bring the target forward, there are three bullet holes clustered in the center of the bull's-eye.
"You want me to hit it moving?" Jensen says, sounding more than a little amused.
Jared swallows. "I'll pick you up at 11:30," he says. "Civilian clothes."
Jared's thinking about going home to make some kind of dinner and maybe fit in a run with the dogs and a few hours of sleep before his rotation, but when he gets back to the office, Zach's leaning up against his desk. He watches Jared's briefing on where people should pick up non-FBI issue cars and the current schedule, then steps in when Jared steps away from the white board, settling a hand in the small of his back for just a few seconds, casual, leaning in like he has something private to discuss.
"Dinner?" Zach says, and Jared swallows.
"Take out?" Jared says. "My place isn't too far."
"Sounds good," Zach says.
A couple hours later, Jared feels like he's in college again, rushing through dinner to get to the after, and when he burns his mouth on his pad thai for a third time, watching Zach work his way through a green curry, he gives up on the food.
"Impatient?" Zach teases, eyes darker than Jared's used to seeing them, and Jared flushes, laughing.
"Sorry," he says. "The food's not bad."
"Don't be," Zach says, and slides down to stretch out on the floor, pushing Jared's coffee table out of the way.
"Come here," he says, and Jared ends up on his stomach next to him, propping himself up on one arm.
"This feels kind of - unconventional," Jared admits, and Zach laughs.
"But you're interested," he says, reaching out to cup Jared's face.
"Very," Jared murmurs, finally, letting his eyes close, and a moment later, Zach's curling a hand around his shoulder and dragging him in for a kiss.
Jared knows better than to think that this means something - hell, he doesn't want it to - but there's something good in the hard press of Zach's mouth over his, and when Zach rolls him onto his back and straddles him, Jared arches up until pleasure tips over into pain from his rib, settling his hands on Zach's back to pull him down, bringing their hips together.
Zach grins against his mouth, thrusting down, and Jared doesn't bother to break the kiss, just reaches down to undo Zach's jeans. Zach lets him, then pushes Jared's hands aside to undo his belt, sliding a hand down into Jared's pants, pulling his cock out. It's hot and fast and messy, exactly the kind of adrenaline rush Jared needs after a week of tilting at windmills.
"Jesus, Zach," Jared manages, pushing Zach's boxer briefs down, and Zach wraps a hand around both of them and starts to stroke. They're trading hard, rough kisses, shoving back and forth, in each other's space, and it only takes a couple minutes of quick, firm strokes and a twist of Zach's wrist before Jared's coming over his hand.
"Fuck," Zach says, breathless, throwing his head back, and Jared pulls his hands away and returns the favor, dragging his thumb in slow, easy sweeps across the head of Zach's cock until he follows Jared over.
Zach rolls off and sprawls out on the carpet, leaving Jared panting on his back, and they stay there for a few minutes.
"There's a Rangers game at 8," Zach says, finally, and Jared laughs, still breathless and warm all over.
"I'll get a couple of beers," he says. "Just give me another half an hour to recover."
"I'm holding you to that," Zach says with a grin, and Jared fumbles the remote off the coffee table and turns on ESPN.
Jared's sat through a lot of stakeouts over the course of his career. They're ninety-nine percent boring, one percent action, so he's not expecting anything to happen. He's also really not expecting Jensen to be good at sitting in the dark, parked across from Beaver's house, but he's surprisingly quiet. Jared has a tiny, battery-operated space heater, so even with the rear windows cracked the car is comfortably warm, and the slow endorphin rush from getting laid still hasn't faded. Jared has coffee and Jensen, and the likelihood is pretty damn low that anyone's going to get killed on his watch, which ought to make for a decent evening. Unfortunately, Jared's also sleepy.
"I could wake you up if anything happens," Jensen says, after another of Jared's muffled yawns.
"Thanks for the offer," Jared says, taking another gulp of coffee, "but I haven't fallen asleep on a stakeout since my first year in the FBI."
He wakes up an hour later to Jensen leaning over him with the binoculars, a hand braced on his shoulder. "Something's not right -" he says.
Jared's almost fully awake in an instant, but Beaver's just walking his dog in the front yard. There's something odd about a serial murder suspect with a golden retriever, but Jared doesn't see an imminent threat.
"Jensen?" he prompts, but Jensen's frowning, focused on something.
"Do you think you could get me his medical records?" Jensen says.
"With a court order, yes," Jared says, and Jensen leans back, face still tight.
"Have them sent to the ME's office," Jensen says. "I think - I need to look at something."
"I'll need specifics," Jared says, and Jensen glances at Beaver again.
"Anything having to do with his hands," he says. "Look at the way he's holding the leash."
Jensen passes over the binoculars, and when Jared glances through them, he can see what Jensen's referring to; Beaver's hand is curled awkwardly around the leash, his grip insecure, and when the dog pulls, Beaver follows instead of pulling him back, obviously trying to leave slack.
"I'll call tomorrow morning," Jared says, and Jensen grins.
"Go back to sleep," he suggests, and Jared flushes bright red.
Getting an order for a specific portion of medical records isn't particularly difficult, especially when Jared makes it clear that it's due to Jensen's personal observation. Katie heads over to collect the records, and Jared knows they'll be at the ME's office before lunch. He has two agents watching Beaver, Westwick organizing more of the victim profiles, and after Jared responds to yet another media inquiry - he can only articulate that the FBI is refusing to comment on an ongoing investigation so many times - he figures an early lunch might kill some time until Jensen's hunch - whatever it is - can be confirmed.
Half an hour later, Zach's got Jared backed up against the desk in his makeshift office, biting along the curve of his neck.
"This is really unprofessional," Jared manages, sliding his hands underneath Zach's button down to pull it free, trying not to tilt his hips up already.
"Are you really trying to tell me you've never fucked anyone in your office?" Zach says, sounding amused, and Jared feels his face heat, letting his head fall back as Zach undoes his belt.
"Well," he starts, but the door to the storage room slams open before he can get any further.
"Jared, I found -" Jensen says, then stops short, his hand still on the doorknob.
"Uh," Jared says. Zach backs up, leaving Jared to fumble with his belt, trying to tuck his shirt back in.
"I apologize," Jensen manages, flushed, still staring, and Jared gives up on his shirt and steps out from behind his desk.
"No big deal," Jared says. It's not like he hasn't seen worse from Jensen and Jeff, but something about this feels different. Jensen looks miserable, and Jared feels abruptly guilty.
"I just wanted to -" Jensen holds out a folder, his other hand still tight on the door. "Jim Beaver has severe osteoarthritis in his right hand. It would be physically impossible for him to strangle anyone."
"Fuck," Jared says, finally.
"I'm going to -" Jensen says, putting the folder on Jared's desk, and backs out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
"You know, I like you," Zach says, after a long pause, "but I'm reasonably certain that it would be better for you if we were just friends."
"What?" Jared says. "I -"
"Trust me," Zach says, settling a hand against the back of Jared's neck for a moment. "You'll work it out eventually."
"Zach -" Jared says, but Zach's already out the door, leaving Jared staring miserably at the folder of evidence and his forgotten lunch.
Two hours later, after Jared puts Westwick back on hunting for another suspect and calls off the detail on Beaver, he heads across the street. The door to Jensen's office is closed and locked, but Jared's used to a slow response; Jensen has a tendency to get engrossed in case files. By the fourth knock, though, he's not really expecting Jensen to answer, so he's startled when the door jerks open.
"I'm working, Jared," Jensen says, flatly. "Stop pounding on my fucking door."
"I just wanted to -" Jared starts, but Jensen slams the door in his face.
Jeff's not at his desk, but Jared finds him in one of the exam rooms, comparing a mandible to diagram on a laptop screen.
"On a scale of one to ten," Jared says, "how pissed is he?"
"Nine," Jeff says, "but be aware that Jensen typically reserves ten for occasions where he has to deal with perpetrators of genocide."
Jared sits down across the exam table, rubbing a hand over his face. "Pissed I didn't lock the door, pissed I didn't tell him I was messing around with Zach, or something else entirely?"
Jeff pauses, gently pushing the skull away, and looks at Jared for a long minute. Jared shifts, uncomfortable, and Jeff finally laughs. "Jesus," he says. "You really have no idea."
"I -" Jared says, and Jeff shuts the laptop.
"Jared, when your best friend and partner tells you he's gay, and you say it's no big deal, it's typically not a bad idea to mention that you don't have a problem with it because you're also interested in men."
"I thought -" Jared says. "I didn't think… it didn't seem pertinent, I haven't dated anyone since we started working together. I haven't even slept with anyone in months." Jared's startled to realize that it's been so long, but it's not surprising; Jared's never been all that into dating, and the endless murder investigations haven't left a lot of time for casual sex.
"Neither has Jensen," Jeff says. "You're still lying by omission."
"Yeah," Jared says, rubbing his eyes again. "Yeah, I should have. I'll go apologize."
Jeff pauses. "Don't be surprised if he takes a while to come around," he says, finally. Jared's left with the impression that he wants to say something else, but he turns the under table lights back on, and Jared goes back to Jensen's office.
"Jensen," Jared says, quietly, leaning up against the doorframe. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
The door doesn't open, and Jared gives it five minutes before he tries again. "Can we just talk about this? I want to apologize."
"If you're waiting for me to open the door," Jensen says, "you're going to be standing there for a very long time."
Two hours later, Jared decides that Jensen probably needs a chance to cool down. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says. Jensen doesn't respond.
The next four days are miserable. Jensen gets into his office in the morning before Jared comes to work, and the door stays locked all day. Jared's never put a lot of thought into the amount of time he spends with Jensen, but it only takes a few hours to realize that it's a significant portion of his day. Jared's used to dropping by the ME's office on breaks, to phone calls every twenty minutes, and to being able to bounce ideas off his partner. It's not until lunch on the second day that he realizes that he and Jensen typically eat two or three meals together, and eating dinner with Zach and Kristen doesn't make up for the fact that Jensen's still avoiding him. Worse still, the FBI still doesn't have a new suspect, and Jared feels like they're running in place. Jared spends most of his time sitting outside Jensen's office, poring over useless files, and when he goes home at night, he can't bring himself to do much more than go to bed. It's the worst part of the job.
And it's why, when Jared's phone rings at three-thirty in the morning, he's not even pissed at Jensen for deciding that he wants to talk in the middle of the fucking night. He's mostly just relieved.
"Hey," he says, "I'm glad you called -"
"I know who it is," Jensen says, sounding tight and anxious. "I've been going over the files for days, I looked at - it doesn't matter, just meet me at your command center as soon as you can."
"I can -" Jared says.
"I really can't talk about this here," Jensen says. "Across the street, you can make it in half an hour, right? I'll wait for you."
"Twenty-five if I speed," Jared says, already rolling out of bed, and Jensen laughs, softly.
"Make it twenty," he says, sounding strange, and hangs up the phone.
When Jared gets to headquarters, the only person in the building is the night janitor. Jared's got a key to the ME's office, but the only light in the entire lab is under the medical examiner's door, and Lehne's known for working odd hours; Jared really doesn't want to disturb him if he doesn't have to. Jensen's cell goes straight to voicemail, and Jared waits for half an hour, then checks back across the street. By the time 5 a.m. rolls around, he's unbelievably exhausted and quietly furious, and there's nothing left to do but go home.
"You're unbelievable," Jared tells Jensen's voicemail, on the drive back, and when he finally crawls back in bed, it's close to six in the morning and he's supposed to be up in half an hour. Jared texts Katie and resets his alarm - it's not like there's any fucking information to supervise - and goes back to bed.
When Jared wakes up at eight-thirty, it's not to his alarm but to Kristen's ring tone, some boy band pop song she downloaded just to irritate him.
"I'll be in by ten," he says. "Talk to Katie."
"Jared," Kristen says, and the tone makes Jared sit up, fully awake, because he's never heard Kristen sound like that before. "Jensen - he didn't come into work this morning. He's not picking up his phone, and Katie and Lee - there's no one at his house, and the alarm system says no one came in last night."
Jared's stomach drops out. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes," he says.
PART FOUR