Soul Survivors, Chapter Two
Title: Soul Survivors
Author: tcs1121
Artist: BflyW
Pairing and Characters: Jared/Jensen, Jim Beaver, Chad Michael Murray, Sophia Bush, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Steven Williams, several original male and female characters
Rating: NC-17
Genre: J2 AU, h/c
Word Count: ~41,100
Warnings: This is a story about survivor's guilt. Many people die in different and tragic ways-mostly off screen. Imagined graphic deaths of birds. Suicidal ideation. Religious overtones-no religion bashing. Jensen has a permanent disability.
Disclaimer: Untrue story. Character names are being used without permission. No money changes hands.
Beta: Kee--She never lets me take the easy way out. I don't know what I'd do without her. Thank you so very much.
Special Thanks to spn_J2fan for her read through, insights, and overall kindness. To pennydrdful for expert assistance when I needed it, and to wendy the moderator for the SPN J2 Big Bang 2014
A/N: Please understand that, right or wrong, people grieve in different ways.
Link to bflyw's Amazing Art:~~ HERE~~
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Summary: "We were ordinary people until we became part of a tragedy. We feel guilty for living when others have died. We come together because unless you've been through what we've been through, you can't understand what it's like to be us. We are the survivors."
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In the dark dreary nights, when the storm is at its most fierce, the lighthouse burns bright so the sailors can find their way home again. In life the same light burns. This light is fueled with love, faith, and hope. And through life’s most fierce storms these three burn their brightest so we also can find our way home again.- Author Unknown
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( Back to Chapter One)
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___________
Jared sat in a plush overstuffed chair reading Car and Driver magazine. That red Tesla Model S was sweet.
It's nice to be able to think that, flashed into Jared's head.
"Doctor Morgan will see you now, Jared."
"Thank you, Ellie."
"Have a seat, Jared. Want some coffee? It's decaf." Jeff Morgan sat behind his desk and held up his mug.
"No thanks."
Jared sat in front of Jeff as the doctor blew on the surface before sipping.
"So, tell me what's going on."
"That red Tesla is a great looking car. I would love to see one in real life someday. Electric energy is so clean, and you know I'm all about being green."
Jeff stopped and stared. Grinning widely, he put his coffee down and said, "That's great."
"I knew you'd appreciate that. As I was reading about it in your waiting room, I realized that something was-nice. I know it's only a car, but, you know." Jared blushed.
"You saw something red, Jared. Not gray, but red and you thought it was pretty. I get it."
Jared smiled, but then looked down, nervously.
"What else is up?" Jeff asked.
"Doc, I know you referred me to the support group, but I also know that you spoke with Jensen about me."
"I never mentioned names, and I didn't give out details."
"I know, he told me. I was upset at first, but not now."
"Why did it upset you?"
"Truthfully? I was afraid you were sharing my secrets with strangers. At first, I didn't want to go to the meeting, but I needed to try something. Then, I found out Jensen knew about me and I didn't know what to do."
"We both knew you needed to try this group out." Jeff said. "But, I hope you know that I would never violate our confidentiality."
"I know now."
"And neither would Jensen. He has never, ever contacted me about any of the patients I've referred to him, even though there were times when he really should have. Do you believe that?"
"For now."
"Fair enough." Jeff sat back comfortably. "You've gone to two meetings. How do you feel about the Soul Survivors group?"
"I'm going to give it a chance. The first meeting, I didn't tell them why I was there, you know, specifically. But this second time, when I started to run away, they chased after me. I told them about Robbie and I'm glad I did."
"I'm pretty sure Jensen didn't do the chasing," Jeff said, gently.
"No, he kept falling back into his chair when he was trying to follow me. He's, he's amazing."
Jared had, indeed, seen Jensen topple back into his rolling chair during his mad dash for the exit. It slowed Jared down enough for Mindy to catch him.
Jeff pursed his lips and asked, "How does it feel being part of a group like that?"
"They know what it's like. On the surface, our situations look different, but underneath we're the same. It's…it's good."
"I hear a "but" in there." Jeff sat back and crossed his legs.
"I'm confused, Doctor Morgan." Jared pressed lips together. "After I told them about Robbie, and one member said that he didn't blame me for her death, I expected to feel angry." He looked up. "I always feel angry. I thought I would have told Jensen to shut up when he said that the events happened around me and not because of me. Doc, these things are the same things people have been saying to me since day one and I shut them out."
Jared looked intently at his psychologist. "Why did I accept it from them? And why am I thinking that maybe some of Robbie's death wasn't my fault?" He sighed. "God, it hurt to say that."
"Jared, you've met this group of people, and even though you don't know them well, you already feel that they're good people, blameless people. People like you who had horrors visited upon them. I'm hoping that when you see how hard they struggle to forgive themselves, you'll fight with them to forgive yourself. You are as innocent as they are. I want you to see that."
Jared's voice was whisper thin. "Jensen talked about having hope and maybe living in the sun again. Do you think that's possible?"
"I believe it is possible."
"I hope so." Jared pressed his eyes with the pads of his fingers.
"Are you still going to Mass?"
"Occasionally, yes."
"That's good. Your church can be a big source of comfort. Finding peace and seeking forgiveness-allow your priest and your congregation to help you when you can." Morgan uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, "But remember it's you, and only you, who can let yourself off the hook, and when you do, there'll be a different kind of guilt to deal with."
Jared cracked a small smile as Jeff unknowingly paraphrased what Drew had said.
"It'll be worth it, though," Jeff continued. "I'll help you every step of the way."
Jared unconsciously brought a hand to his chest and rubbed along the sternum. "I can see it in them. They're trying so hard, living with the blame but determined to move forward. They make me want to try, too. It terrifies me."
"Why?"
"I'm afraid of who I'll be if I accept this special dispensation they're handing me-of accepting that I was an innocent bystander in destiny's actions."
"Jared, you may not be ready to accept that you had a very limited role in the tragedy that killed Robbie, but you're making your way through the other phases of grief. At least you're on the road."
"That's good, I guess?"
"That is good." Jeff smiled
Jared smiled back. "Thank you for recommending Jensen's group to me. I think it's a good thing."
"You're welcome." Jeff jotted a few lines on his notepad, then sat straight. "Now, on a different note, the week after next, I'll be attending a conference in Portland and then turning it into a mini vacation with my wife, so I've rescheduled your appointments with Dr. Lehne." He handed Jared a card from his top drawer. "Here's his contact information."
"Thanks, but I'll wait until you get back. I think the support group will be enough for the time you're away."
Doctor Morgan regarded Jared carefully. "You know that the Soul Survivors is only a bi-weekly discussion group. There are no professionals involved."
"I know," Jared said. "I'll keep the phone number handy in case I need to talk to a professional."
"I certainly can't make you see Dr. Lehne, but I would if I could. I strongly suggest you keep the appointments I set up for you." Jeff tilted his head to the right. "How about we compromise, and you keep half the appointments?"
"If I need him, I'll get with him." Jared used his most sincere voice. "I think I want to start relying on myself more and less on you. This will be a good opportunity for me to assess myself."
"Use his number, Jared. Use mine if you have to, I'll always answer your calls."
"I know. I will."
Doctor Morgan shook his head. "Jared…"
"I'll be careful, doc." Jared interrupted. "I can do this."
"I'm trusting you to be smart about this," the doctor said. "If you feel yourself slipping, don't wait. Call."
"I will." Jared held up Dr. Lehne's card and put it in his breast pocket. "I'll keep this close to my heart." He took one of Jeff's cards sitting in the card holder. "And this one, too."
Jeff huffed. "You're anything but dull, Jared."
Jared smiled, tentatively. "You ain't seen nothing yet."
~~~~
Jared was walking to his truck after the appointment when he pulled out his phone.
"Hey, Chad?"
"Hey, Jare, wazzup? Everything okay?"
"I know it's a little early for dinner, but I have an overwhelming craving for a meat lover's deep dish pizza and a pitcher of beer."
"Never too early for pizza and beer man, I'm there. Meet you at The Pizza Kitchen in a half hour." Chad clicked off before Jared had time to change his mind.
With his foot firmly on the bottom rung, Jared took a deep breath and began climbing.
"Come to order, you rowdy people." Jensen forcefully tapped his crutch tip on the floor. "I have a meeting to start." He looked from side to side. "I'll start it, but I don't think I'll end it. You will."
Jensen looked at the five faces of the people in his group.
Jared was puzzled, but Drew smirked and Mindy bounced up and down in her seat.
"A free-for-all?" Mindy asked with a grin.
"If you'd like," Jensen said.
"That sounds good, we haven't had one for a while," Liz said.
"I'll start with the topic I've given myself-as leader, I get to pick the ones I want-and we'll end with some regular conversation."
"I love it when he calls himself the leader," Liz said.
Jensen smiled and when everyone had quieted, he sat up in his chair.
"I'm the leader of this group because I needed a group like this, so I started one. I’m a survivor, like the rest of you, and I want to take a few minutes to talk about what that is: being a survivor. In the strictest terms, surviving means that we've outlived something or someone. In a more romantic definition, a survivor is a person who continues to function or even prosper in spite of opposition, hardship, or setbacks. That last definition implies that we're fighters-we're the tough guys who've outlasted the obstacles life threw at us and carried the ball into the end zone."
Drew chuckled. "We'd make a sorry Super Bowl team."
"I don't know," Jared said. "We might have a shot if we played against the Denver Broncos."
"That's right, Drew." Jensen lit up and smiled big. "And that's right, Jared. That's what I'm getting at, in a way. We'll never be who we were before, but we go forward in the skin we wear now. Our differences from how we were before manifest in big and little ways. Drew will never eat corn on the cob again, I'll never run another relay, and Liz will never truly enjoy another birthday. Yes, we won't win the Super Bowl, but we might, just might, play a great game against a team like the Denver Broncos. We might be different people, but we are strong, we persevere and one of us might even carry the ball for a touchdown."
It looked to Jensen like Jared wanted to say something.
"What are you thinking so hard on, Jared.?" Brett asked.
"Of all the ways I'm different now," Jared replied.
"And?" Brett asked.
"This is going to sound petty," Jared faced Brett. "But I would like to fly again. I haven't since…and I can't imagine doing it, but I want to."
"That don't sound petty to me, son, that sounds pretty brave. You're wanting to try, I gotta give you props." Brett said, "I, uh, I think about going to Afghanistan-not Iraq-but back to contracting overseas. Don't know if I will," he looked fondly at Mindy, "but I think about it sometimes."
"That's huge," Drew said, reverently, but then poked Brett's shoulder. "But nobody says "props" anymore, old man."
Brett barked out a laugh.
"Do women have to wear burkas in Afghanistan? I mean if they don't live there, and aren't, you know, Muslim?" Mindy asked
"Why you asking, darlin'? You want to come with me?"
Mindy blushed a cute shade of pink. "I think it's time for the free-for-all. I'll start." She glanced at Jensen who indicated that the floor was hers.
"Okay, so," Mindy started, "they're building a no-kill animal shelter a couple of miles from me and they're already looking for volunteers. I don't want to volunteer but it made me think about adopting a pet. Anybody here have any advice or suggestions about that?"
"Cats are easier than dogs," Jensen said. "Misha practically takes care of himself."
"Yeah, but dogs are real pets," Brett said. "I mean, a dog is, like, a person, you know?"
"They take a lot more work than cats," Mindy said, "and I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of commitment."
"Dogs are a lot of work," Drew agreed.
"I love dogs," Liz said. "We had black and yellow Labs when we were growing up. Labs are great."
Jensen tuned out the happy conversation to motion to Jared. "Grab me a coffee cup, will you?"
Jensen ambled over to the coffee maker leaving an animated conversation of cat vs. dog vs. ferret vs. parakeet.
"What is going on here tonight?" Jared reached into the top cupboard for a mug. "I don't understand."
"It's a free-for-all." Jensen filled the cup with black coffee. "It's when we talk about anything other than why we're actually here. Underneath the weight of it all, we're still people. I do this every few months because sometimes talking about normal stuff is kind of nice."
"It is," Jared agreed.
Jensen used the wall for balance to walk over and sit back in the center of the group.
"Do you have any animals, Jared?" Liz asked.
"Not now," he said, sitting. "But I'm hoping to live my entire life around them. Hey, Mindy, you said the shelter was asking for volunteers?"
"Yes, they're taking names now so they'll have a schedule ready when they open next month. At least that's what it said on the sign out front."
"Was there a phone number, too?"
"There sure was. I'll jot it down for you the next time I drive by." Mindy pulled a pen and a pad of paper from her giant pocketbook. "Give me your number and I'll call you with it."
"My grandma and grandpa had a small farm when I was growing up," Drew said. "Mostly goats and chickens. Talk about happy memories as a kid."
Jensen leaned back and listened to the simple discussions between friends and hoped that for a little while Jared and the others found a bit of calm.
After another trip to see Mr. Coffee, Jensen sat heavily and let out a loud breath. "Okay, all right. Let's get it together, gang, and wrap it up for tonight." He turned to Jared. "See why you should keep coming? We're real fun."
Jared's lips turned up at the edges, and his eyes had a brightness Jensen hadn't yet seen. "You guys are real somethin', that's for sure." Jared brought his thumbnail to his teeth but apparently decided not to chew on it.
"We're real, all right," Drew said. "Real tired."
"Real hungry," Brett added.
"I want donuts," Mindy said. "Jelly filled and sugar coated. Who's with me?"
"Too many calories," Liz frowned.
Jensen smiled at the group. "And there's my cue to officially end the meeting. So, by the power vested in me as the guy who puts the sign on the door, I adjourn tonight's meeting. See you all in two Mondays."
One by one they pushed back and got their jackets and bags.
"Jared, can you hang around for a few minutes tonight?" Jensen balanced on his right foot to snatch his crutch leaning against the wall. "I won't keep you long."
"No problem, I'm not on a tight schedule."
"Night, Jensen." Mindy waved, heading for the door.
"Thanks for the meeting, Jen," Brett said. He followed Mindy out, saying, "How's the Doughnut House sound to you?"
Liz ruffled Jensen's hair lightly and said, "See ya."
Drew stacked the chairs and pushed the tables back in place. "I left the coffee pot for you to clean." He tipped his chin toward the sink in the corner. "You're the caffeine fiend."
"Fair enough. Thanks, man." Jensen waved good bye as Drew left.
"So," Jensen picked up the half-filled coffee pot and made his way over to the sink. "I have kind of a confession to make."
"Isn't that sort of why we're here?" Jared's eyes gleamed.
"I guess so." Jensen rinsed out the black coffee and swirled the dregs down the drain. "I've been the head of this group for four years and I'm still winging it. This Soul Survivors group was an idea I came up with in a therapy session one afternoon. It was getting real bad for me. One day, I said to my psychologist that I had to do something or what's the use of surviving? He agreed, so he helped me to start this-whatever it is we are."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"In the spirit of full disclosure. My former psychologist is Dr. Jeff Morgan."
"What?"
"Hold on, Jared. Doc Morgan and I dissolved our patient/doctor relationship years ago and he helped me start this informal group."
"I figured you knew him professionally, but I didn't know you knew him personally."
"He is a friend of mine, and I wanted you to know that."
Jared was silent.
"Jared, honestly, what goes on at these meetings is private. I never tell Jeff about anything. The closest I came was when a young boy, a teenager who ran a stop sign and killed an elderly couple, told me he wanted to kill himself. Then he told me how he planned on doing it. The boy wasn't even Jeff's patient."
"God, Jensen. What did you do?"
"There's a huge difference between someone saying they want to die, and someone planning out their suicide, so I called his mother." Jensen remembered, painfully. "He was a minor. That was my excuse."
"Do you know what happened to him?"
"No."
"I'm sorry."
Jensen shrugged. "I wanted you to know that I know Jeff and that I don't tell him anything. And I'm glad you're here."
"Thank you for telling me. I'm glad I'm here, too," Jared said. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course." Jensen leaned against a sturdy desk. "Ask away."
Jared looked Jensen in the eye. "Everyone's told their story but you."
"Oh, okay," Jensen said, "Let's sit."
Jensen took his usual rolling chair, and Jared pulled open a chair and sat in front of him.
"Six years ago, I was on a bus en route to my part-time job. We were at a red light when a moving van that couldn't stop crashed into us.
"I was talking to the bus driver, standing just shy of the white lines that divided the driver from the passengers and the passengers from the bus steps when I heard the awful screeching of metal on metal and felt a massive impact from behind. The back end of the bus was obliterated instantly.
"Even while the bus was accordioning in on itself, Jim, the bus driver, had the presence of mind to maneuver around oncoming vehicles as best he could while being plowed into the intersection. The noise of crashing vehicles and the passengers screaming was deafening. This I knew, the rest was told to me.
"After smashing into the back of the bus, inertia kept the semi going. Those trucks have a lot of mass behind them. The driver must have cut his wheels because it jackknifed and overturned. The cab and cargo container crashed on top of what was left of our bus. The bus flipped onto its side, throwing me into the stairwell. I guess there were pots and pans, dresses and living room furniture strewn about the intersection like a bad window display. Jim and I were the only survivors on that bus. Everyone and everything behind me and the driver was demolished. The moving truck driver survived the crash but died of a heart attack two days later in the hospital. It was ruled an accident due to brake failure. I think there are civil suits still pending against the Sea to Shining Sea Van Lines."
"That's awful, Jensen."
"It was." Jensen pulled in a deep breath. "But, remember how I said the back of the bus got destroyed first? Well, I'd been sitting there moments before, but gave my seat to a young mother and her daughter. The mother had a cake box. Years later, I still wonder if the cake was for the little girl's birthday."
Jensen paused until his breath evened out. Sometimes, it was still so hard to think about that.
"Those are the two people I killed. Three really, since the mother was pregnant. I guess it's easy blaming myself for those two rather than the other forty-one that died. I know you'll understand this part because the song that plays in my head is: maybe if the mom and her girl were standing where I was standing they would still be alive."
"Can they fix your leg?"
"They already did. It's attached and it works-with help. For that, I'm grateful. I'm also grateful that Jim survived. He told me that while he was driving the bus, he knew without question that the fate of the bus was out of his hands. Yet, what was remarkable was that in the midst of the chaos, he was able to maneuver away from other cars, and people in the intersection. Talk about having your head together. And that old man is back behind the wheel of a bus, driving people around like he did before.
"I keep in touch with him, and we meet from time to time. We had a casual friendship when I was his rider. Doc Morgan and Jim were the ones who kept me going until I got my head straightened out and started this group."
"The driver, Jim," Jared asked, softly, "he doesn't feel responsible at all? I mean, not that he should."
Jensen shook his head. "The way he describes it to me is," Jensen paused to get the words right, "what was going on behind him was out of his control. With what was in front of him, he did his best. He felt the force of the impact and saved lives by veering out of the oncoming traffic as well as he could. While he was devastated by the loss of all those people's lives, he knew that he couldn't have done anything more than he did. I admire him so much.
"He's the only one who gets to call me an idiot about thinking I had any responsibility for…for anyone's death." Jensen's voice cracked, and he bit down. "He tells me I'm an idiot and says he's glad I'm alive." He sniffed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"I'm sorry, Jensen." Jared stood and brushed his hand down Jensen's arm.
"Don't be sorry. I tell this story all the time, I don't know why it hits harder sometimes than others, but it's not your fault."
"And it's not yours," Jared said.
Jensen paused to look at Jared through misty eyes. Jared's were full of compassion.
Jensen gave Jared a watery smile. "Even though we're all a mess, like Mindy said, I'm glad you're part of our motley crew. We needed some new crazy."
Jared laughed and then looked surprised.
"What?" Jensen cracked a small smile, reaching for his crutch.
"I laughed."
"I heard. It sounds good on you."
"It's been over ten months." Jared looked bewildered.
"Ten months?"
"That's how long ago…" Jared stopped and shrugged.
"Well," Jensen said. "I hope we don't have to wait another ten for it to happen again." He handed Jared the clean Mr. Coffee pot. "Could you please put that away, turn out the lights, and, if you don't mind, since you were so kind to offer after the last meeting, would you drive me home?"
"With pleasure." Jared had the biggest grin Jensen had seen yet.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know if it was okay to park at the church, so I've been parking at the public garage a couple of blocks away. I hope that's all right?" Jared matched his speed to Jensen's slow, halting gait.
"Not a problem, but you're allowed to park at the church hall." Jensen smiled. "Besides, I'm the one who should be telling you "sorry." I'm begging the ride."
"I've got a truck that's up on a high chassis," Jared said, apologetically.
"That's okay. I'll manage," Jensen assured him.
"I should shut up, but I'm having trouble doing that all of a sudden." Jared came close to smacking his own forehead.
Jensen stopped and turned to him. "What are you talking about?"
"Me. I'm talking too much and I'm not used to it. At least not for a while." Jared knew he'd soon have to put his hand over his mouth to physically shut himself up.
Jensen laughed low and deep. The long line of his throat exposed by the street lights and the laugh lines deepening at the corners of his eyes confirmed what Jared was afraid to think about, Jensen was an extremely good looking man. And, according to the rainbow swooping up his crutch, he was gay.
Jensen resumed walking toward the parking area. "You're not talking too much. You're being nice. But what did you mean when you said, at least not for a while?"
"What I meant," Jared spied his black Ford F150 pick-up. "Oh, here I am." Fortunately, no one was parked on either side so the doors had plenty of room to open.
"You got lucky, Jared. First floor parking space. Or rather, I got lucky." Jensen's face pinked up in a blush that reached his ears.
Jared laughed. "You walked into that one all by yourself, man."
Jared had to admit that laughing felt good. He used his key fob to unlock the doors and stood waiting to see what he should do next.
Jensen didn't hesitate. He opened the passenger's side door, turned sideways so he was half sitting on the seat. Using his two hands, one with the crutch hanging by the cuff on his forearm, he fiddled with his knee and lifted the left leg in. Jensen lifted the crutch entirely, then swung his right leg inside, placed the crutch between his knees, slammed the door and buckled himself in.
Jared was almost ashamed to think this but Jensen was so graceful he made it look easy. Jared was also still standing outside the driver's side of his own truck so he hurried inside.
"So, where to?" Jared started up and backed out.
"Take I-47 North to Battlefield Road West. I have an apartment in that high rise off of Elmwood Ave."
"I know where that is. You're actually not too far from me. I'm another exit north but further east."
"We're practically neighbors." Jensen gave him a friendly grin. "So what did you mean when you said you weren't used to talking too much for a while?"
"What I said, or rather, what I meant was that I'm a talker, or I was a talker before everything happened. I haven't been very talkative since, so I forgot that I have to censor what I say before I say it so I don't make an ass of myself or hurt somebody's feelings by saying the wrong thing. Did that make any sense?" Jared headed north on the interstate.
"You're not an ass, and it's very difficult to hurt my feelings by saying the wrong thing. Pretty much the only way anyone can hurt my feelings is if they want to. So, talk away, and don't worry."
"You say that now." Jared glanced sideways.
"I do say that now. I like hearing you talk."
"Yeah," Jared snorted. "You say that now."
Jensen laughed again. "Hey, you know, we don't live too far apart, so if you ever need a ride to the meeting, or would like some traveling company let me know."
"So, you have a car?"
"I have a car. One I drive using my right foot for the accelerator and the brake. Oh, just like you do." Jensen said, playfully.
"See what I said about my idiot mouth?" Jared pointed to his lips.
Jensen chuckled. "I guess it's like a wild animal, you've got to get it used to you. The more familiar you become with it, the calmer it'll get."
"I don't know. It might take more than a chair and a whip to get mine under control."
Jensen burst out laughing.
"What?" Jared began laughing along, making the turn onto Elmwood Avenue.
"Dude," Jensen gasped, catching his breath. "We're talking about your mouth." And he burst into a new fit of laughing.
"I'll come up with something to say about yours next time," Jared promised.
"I don't know if I want to hear it. Hey, you want to come up? I'm in 303. No stairs, elevator all the way."
Jared was struck dumb all of a sudden. "Um, I, ah…"
"No problem," Jensen said, cheerfully. "Next time, maybe?" He opened the door and swung out. "Thanks for the ride. See you in two Mondays?"
"Count on it." Jared said after getting his tongue to work.
Jensen cuffed the crutch, slammed the car door and gave it a friendly knock. He waved goodbye and wobbled his way into the building.
I am an idiot, Jared thought. Cute guy asks me up to his apartment and I stutter like a thirteen year-old. He smacked the steering wheel with both hands until his palms stung.
He looked at his hands. This was new. This was a pain that didn't hurt.
He looked up at where he thought apartment 303 might be. This was also new.
Emotions and excitement that weren't depression and anxiety.
He just might call for a ride to the next meeting.
~~~~
Jared's good mood didn't last long. He woke late the next morning with a headache and nervous stomach. He wasn't ill, it was his brain messing up his system. Not letting him feel comfortable with the moment of calm he had with Jensen. It was the first relaxed moment he'd had in many months.
Jared found himself worrying. He wiped his palms on his sweat pants and paced. Jared worried about the way he acted in group and with Jensen. Worried about allowing himself to have a normal conversation at the free-for-all. He suddenly wasn't sure how he felt about the "full disclosure" of Jensen saying that he was friends with Dr. Morgan. He couldn't settle his thoughts or control his up and down emotions.
Stop it.
Jared stood still in the center of his bedroom, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Calm down right now.
He breathed in and out three more times, willing his legs to stop shaking and his heart to slow down. When the nausea abated and the headache subsided he mentally high-fived himself.
Two more cleansing breaths and he was steady. Then, when he decided he would trust Jensen until he found that he couldn't, his eyesight cleared and his hands stopped sweating.
Jared had promised his family that he'd try anything that would help him get better, but he didn't want to take lots of drugs and he certainly didn't want to commit himself to a stay in the hospital.
He also didn't want to move back in with them as they had wanted, but he knew that he had to do something when he couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, and couldn't breathe. School suffered, work suffered, he suffered.
His phone rang a familiar ringtone. "Hey Chad, what do you want?"
"I want you to open your door."
Immediately his front door was pounded on by an open hand.
Jared sighed and pocketed his phone.
"What are you doing here?" He opened the door wide and stepped aside.
"Well, it's Tuesday morning, you know, after the Monday night thing." Chad handed Jared a bag of bagels and cup of coffee. "I wanted to see how you were. Oh, you might want to warm that up." He tipped his chin toward the coffee cup.
"Why is it you can never bring me a hot cup of coffee?"
"Pa-jammas, pa-jahmas." Chad shrugged.
"What?"
"Never mind. So, how did it go? I know you're not supposed to tell me anything specific. I get that, so I'm not asking specifics. I only want to know if it's, you know, helping?"
"Why aren't you at work?" Jared sipped the coffee, made a face, and put it in the microwave.
"Researching ancient weather patterns to compare to current weather patterns allows me a whole lot of flexibility during the day. Why aren't you at work?" Chad asked.
Jared squeezed his eyes shut and said, "I will go back, I'm just not ready. Yet."
"Sophia said you could come back for an hour or two to start. You know, when you are ready."
Jared's eyes watered and he clamped down on his lip to hold it still. "She's so good to me. Tell her thanks. I'll let her know."
Chad raised an eyebrow.
"I will, I promise. Soon."
"So the group's good, right?"
"Yeah, they are. They're all nice, but not too nice, you know?" Jared took his now hot coffee and sat at the kitchen table.
Chad sat across from him. "I know you've only been there a few times, but you seem, I don't know, able to open the door now when I bang on it."
Jared laughed and Chad lit up.
"That sounds good, Jare. You laughing."
"That's what Jensen said last night." Jared stood, cut an onion bagel in half and stuck it in the toaster. "You bring crème cheese for these?"
"Use butter. Am I going to meet this guy who sounds like he's part hero, part priest and part male model?"
"If you ever do, don't call him any of those. Oh, and if you do meet him, he uses a leg brace and a crutch to help him walk."
"Oh." Chad looked up from taking the butter, jelly, mayonnaise and tomatoes out of Jared's refrigerator. "Was he disabled in the accident when whatever happened to him happened?"
Jared mulled over the sentence trying to make sense out of Chad's question. "I don't think I'm supposed to tell you."
"Okay, so that's a yes. Too bad the crutch thing gets in the way of the male model thing."
"How do you even come up with this stuff?" Jared threw a toasted bagel half to Chad. "I never told you what he looked like."
"Your eyes tell me everything, Jare. They always have. If you think someone's stupid, you squint. If you think someone's smart, you raise your eyebrows. If you think someone's hot, your eyes get all smoky. You have smoky eyes when you talk about him."
"You're never meeting him." Jared slathered strawberry jelly on the buttered, toasted onion bagel.
"You also think he's nice. Your eyes tell me that, too." Chad put mayo and tomato on his.
"I do think he's nice."
"I'm glad." Chad licked a dollop of mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth. "So, when should I tell Sophia you're coming back to work?"
Jared stopped mid bite, looked far away for a moment then said, "Next Saturday morning. Tell her I'll be there a week from Saturday, nine o'clock sharp."
Chad gasped but said nothing, reaching for his coffee instead. "Done and done."
"Thanks."
Chad was strangely silent for a few minutes as they ate their impromptu meal.
"What's up with you?" Jared asked. "You got quiet all of a sudden."
"Yeah, well, I got stuff on my mind. Stuff like how I got offered a gig at the Mt. Washington Observatory in New Hampshire."
"Dude, that's awesome. When did this happen?"
"Just came down yesterday. Two month assignment. Supposed to be crazy weather patterns and other wacky weather shit they want me to record."
"You love to travel, and you love wacky weather. What's the big deal?"
"You, Jare. You're the big deal, man."
"What do you mean?" Jared added sugar to his cooling coffee.
"You know what I mean, and I don't want you here by yourself."
"Why, Chad, that's strangely sweet of you."
"Shut the hell up. You know what I'm talking about."
"I do. I'll be fine because I'm not going to be here by myself. Sophia's here and Jensen is literally down the street and around the corner. If I need company, I'll go see him, or he can drive over here."
"I thought you said he had a bum leg. How can he drive?"
"He can drive with his good leg, you jerk," Jared said, smiling.
"You sure?"
"I'm sure. Not only do I have Sophia and Jensen, I've got the whole support group, too, so give me another bagel."
"You know you can call me, right?" Chad diligently sliced another bagel.
"I know."
"Any time, right?"
"I know."
"Good." Chad tossed him another bagel half and said, "You know what? I like your hero slash model with a limp and I haven't even met him."
"And you will only meet him when pork sprouts wings."
His phone was never far away, but right now it sounded like it was coming from another dimension. The wine bottle was half empty, the brace was off and the TV was on low. Jensen was floating on his sofa in that warm, happy place between barely awake and barely asleep. Until the damn phone rang again.
"Christ Almighty." He yawned, and then fumbled sightlessly around the top of the side table for his phone. Blinking at the screen, he was instantly awake.
"Hey, Jared, everything all right?" He said, trying to sound alert. It was, after all, four o'clock, Sunday afternoon.
"I saw her today, Jensen." Jared sounded wrecked. "It was Robbie."
"Oh, no," Jensen crooned. "Oh, Jared, no."
"I looked down the street and she was crossing at the cross walk. I ran four blocks to catch up but by the time I got there," Jared made a sorrowful little noise, "she was gone."
"It's okay." Jensen was stabilizing his left foot to get the shoe on. "It's okay."
Jared was panting and sobbing. "Part of me knew that it couldn't have been her, that I must have been seeing things, but it looked like her, Jensen, it really looked like her."
"I know it did." Jensen reached for both crutches, wincing when a little weight got put on his useless, unbraced leg. "I know. Where are you, Jay?"
Jensen heard Jared's breath catching in his throat. "Jensen?"
"I'm right here, Jared. I'll pick you up. Tell me where you are." Why did he have to drink so much wine in the afternoon, and where were his car keys?
"It could have been her, right?" Jared sounded so young. "I have her number. The one she gave me right before she boarded. I never called it. Maybe it was her crossing the street today. Maybe she got out of the boarding line and I didn't see her-and-and maybe she didn't want me to know she got out of line 'cause I just gave her my seat, you know?" Jared was crying openly.
"It's okay, Jay, it's all right. Tell me where you are, and I'll take you home."
"Don't, don't want you to see me."
"Wait for me, I'll be right there. We'll just…we'll just sit." Please Jared, let me take you home, Jensen prayed. Please wait for me.
"I am home. I'm safe." Jared sniffed loudly. "I'm alive."
"Good. Good." Jensen breathed a sigh of relief. "I'd like to come over. Can I come over?"
"I'm so stupid. So stupid."
"You're not stupid, Jay. Not stupid at all."
"Do you know what I do every moment of every day? I try not to cry. Try not to think. I try not to imagine how peaceful it would be to take this breath and not take the next one. I wake up in the middle of the night trying to hold the screams in and I'm tired. Jensen, I'm so goddamned tired."
"I know it's hard, Jared. I know it." Jensen said, desperately.
"I'm sorry I bothered you on a Sunday."
"Don't hang up. Talk to me."
"I gotta go."
"It happens to me, too." Jensen blurted out.
Jensen heard Jared take one shaky breath and then another, until one breath hiccupped over the next. Stay with me, Jared.
"It happens to me," Jensen repeated, softly.
"It does?"
"Yes, it does." Jensen swallowed. "Every little Latino girl could be her. Every mother and daughter with dark hair and sparkling eyes. Sometimes it's a mom holding her baby. All of them. They are all them. So, yes, it still happens to me."
"What can I do?" Jared asked, tearfully. "I wanted so bad for it to be her, Jensen. Then it would be okay. Nobody would have died because of me. Robbie would be eating ice cream with her mom. It would all be okay." Jared's voice quivered. "I would be okay."
Jensen brushed the wetness from his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"I don't know if I can do this anymore. I don't know if I can live like this night after night, week after week."
"Then do it day by day, Jared. You can do one more day, right? And then one more after that. Please, Jay. One more day. Just one more."
"One more." Jared's voice was ragged. "Just one more."
"We don't have a meeting tomorrow night, so I'll be home. Come over to my place. You know where I live. We'll eat junk and watch something mindless on TV. Come over, I'll be here. We could talk, or not. Whatever you want."
There was no answer from Jared, but Jensen could hear that he was still there.
"I'll leave the door unlocked so you can c'mon in without knocking. Third floor, apartment 303, remember? Come around seven. I make some mean nachos. You bring the drinks." Jensen held his breath. "Please, Jared. Just one more day."
"Okay, tomorrow. I'll come over tomorrow. I can do one more." And the line went dead.
Jensen knew nothing would come of it, but for the first time in six years Jensen wished he could go down on his knees and pray.
~~~~
On Monday night, Jensen had the nacho cheese and the chilies and tomatoes ready for the microwave. The chips were out waiting for Jared to show up. Jensen had his brace off and was wheeling around in his blue, lightweight wheelchair. He wasn't going out tonight and it was easier to carry the chips and cheese in his lap than using his crutch and lumbering one-handed. Jensen actually used the wheelchair a lot when he was home.
This wasn't the first time he'd invited a distraught survivor over to his place for some quiet talk and comfort food, but Jared was special. Jensen liked him, and he was worried about him. Jensen knew the toll that grief took on a person's mind and body.
He hoped Jared would come over tonight so Jensen could help him over this hump. Recovery is a forever process, but it gets easier with time. Jeff had told him, "There's no way around the grief, kid, you gotta slog through it."
Jensen wanted to help Jared slog through it. Again and again, if necessary, until the sharp edges of grief wore down to a manageable dull ache.
Jared was usually a few minutes early for the group, but it was hard to determine an actual pattern as Jared had only attended three sessions. He'd known Jared for five weeks now, but it seemed longer.
The minute hand had passed seven o'clock, fifteen minutes ago, and Jensen came to the conclusion that nachos were out for the night. He was figuring out how long to wait before calling to make sure Jared was okay as he put the chips back into the pantry and the cubed cheese into the refrigerator. Then, Jensen's front door snicked open.
"Hello, Jensen?" Jared called softly. "Are you here? I'm sorry I'm late."
Jensen sighed in thanks. "In the kitchen," he called out. Jensen's wheels skidded back over to the pantry for the chips. "Come on in."
"I needed gas, and then I didn't know what you liked to drink so I got Pepsi and beer and apple juice." Jared peered around the door of the kitchen. "Oh. You, you're, uh, sitting."
"Yeah, but I'll be getting up in a minute," Jensen smiled. "I'm glad you're here. Let's start with beer." He opened the top drawer and held up a bottle opener.
"No need for that," Jared said screwing off the top of a Miller Lite and handing it over.
"Living room's over there." Jensen pointed to the left. "The TV remote's on top of the coffee table, find something to watch while I heat up the cheese. I have Netflix if you can't find anything you like on cable. Oh, and here."
He gave Jared the bowl of chips and a stack of napkins.
"Take these. I keep the cheese and the chips separate. I like to determine my own cheese to chip ratio and not leave it to chance," he explained. "The cheese will be there shortly." He spun in an expert 180 and opened the refrigerator.
Jensen wheeled into the living room, deposited the hot cheese, various veggies, and an unopened bag of blue tortilla chips onto the large coffee table. He scooted his wheelchair up to the sofa at a forty-five degree angle, swung away the left footrest and gracefully pivoted out of the chair, and onto the cushions, landing softly next to Jared.
"You make that look easy," Jared said, impressed.
"I had a physical therapist who insisted there was no plopping allowed." Jensen smiled, grabbing a fist full of chips. "I got an A in no plopping."
"You know, the more I know you, the more nuanced you become," Jared said in mock seriousness.
"I can be very nuanced," Jensen agreed before crunching down, spraying chip crumbs down his shirt. Aiming his finger at the TV, Jensen said, "Let's watch something."
Jared sat on the couch with his finger on the remote, but hesitated.
"Jared, everything okay?"
"Yeah." Jared said, but didn't look up. "I want to thank you for talking me through my melt-down yesterday."
"You're welcome," Jensen said, sincerely. "I know it sounds, I don't know, condescending, but I've been where you are. Remember when I said that we go up a couple of steps then fall back? Well, you just slipped a little. It's okay to slip every now and then as long as you land on your feet."
"Thank God you were there to catch me." Jared looked down. "You were very understanding."
"Anytime, Jared. I mean it. Call me anytime things seem too much. I may not always know what to say, but I will always listen."
"Thank you. I will."
"Good." Jensen sipped his beer. "But that's not why I asked you to come over tonight."
"Oh, no?"
"Nope. I wanted some company and free beer," Jensen said. "Plus, I was in the mood for nachos and it's pretty pathetic to make them and eat them by myself."
"Well, I'm here for you, man, because I gotta tell you, that looks good." Jared loaded a tortilla chip with spicy melted cheese.
"Thanks, it's a secret family recipe that only I, the Velveeta, and RoTel families know."
Jared grinned before dipping another chip. "I won't tell."
"Outside of the nachos and beer, I wanted you to come over because I wanted to meet you. You seem like a nice person."
Jared's eyebrows rose to his hair line. "What do you mean, you wanted to meet me?"
"We know each other, but we haven't been formally introduced. In fact, I don't even know your last name, so let me start." Jensen offered his right hand. "I'm Jensen Ackles. I'm thirty years old and I work as a copy editor for a great metropolitan newspaper. I like nachos, beer, and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia."
Jared smiled. He wiped his hand on a napkin before shaking Jensen's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Jensen Ackles. I'm Jared Padalecki. I'm twenty-six, and working towards a degree in Biological and Agricultural Engineering, or I was until my college track was disrupted. I worked part time at an organic dairy farm owned by the State Department of Agriculture. I want to help run a farm like that someday. Oh, and I like Key and Peele."
"Good for you, Farmer Padalecki!" Jensen laughed.
"Well, not so much a farmer as a pesticides expert," Jared said shyly.
"Still, it sounds like a great plan, Jay." He placed a throw pillow onto the coffee table and used his hands to help hike his unbraced leg up on it.
"That's funny how you call me Jay," Jared aimed the remote and scrolled through the Netflix selections. "No one has ever called me that."
"I'm sorry," Jensen stopped mid cheese scoop. "I went to college with a guy named Jared and he went by Jay."
"I like it. But that means I get to call you Jen. Or Sonny. I kind of like Sonny. Sounds like a powerful playah."
"No, it sounds like someone about to get wacked at a toll booth. Jen is fine." Jensen pointed a finger. "Jenny is not. Besides, it's Jen-sen not Jen-son. So Sonny isn't even in the ball park."
Jared laughed hard, needing another napkin to keep the chips from falling out of his mouth.
Jensen sipped his beer and snorted.
After Jared got settled, he slouched back in his seat. "Do you always take in strays after an hysterical phone call?"
"No, but I do take in strays." Jensen clicked his tongue and patted the couch seat next to him. A big, gray, long-haired cat with a bushy tail hopped onto the couch and curled up next to him.
"Jared, meet Misha. Misha, Jared."
"Wow, he's gorgeous. Will he let me pet him?"
"Sure, he's a big ol' whore of a Tom cat, aren't you Mishie." Jensen stroked the cat's back. "He's so easy. Ear scritches, butt scratches, a few sardines and a litter pan, and he'll love you for life."
Jared leaned across Jensen's lap and scratched under the cat's chin, eliciting purring like a revved up lawn mower. "Why did you name him Misha?"
"I didn't name him, a friend of mine did."
"Oh, who?" Jared spoke to the cat rather than Jensen. "Who named you Misha, huh, pretty boy? Who would do that to you?"
"Misha did."
"Excuse me?"
"My friend, Misha. He named the cat after himself and gave him to me." Jensen shrugged. "My friend Misha is an ol' whore of a Tom cat, too."
Jared laughed, "Your friend named a cat after himself and then gave him to you? And they're both Misha?" Jared laughed again, petting the top of Misha's head. "No offense, buddy."
Misha rumbled a, "No offense taken," purr.
"I'm glad it didn't take another ten months for you to laugh. I like it." Jensen smiled and gently scratched the cat's shoulders. "Thank you, Misha."
Jared shifted to his side of the couch with a grin and aimed the remote at the TV. "You know that Cricket guy on It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia? In real life he's married to Bones."
Jared raised his feet up on the coffee table at the same time Jensen went to reposition the pillow under his leg. The coffee table bounced and Jensen's leg slipped off the pillow.
That little jolt shouldn't hurt, but, dear god, it did. Jensen hissed and doubled up as he wasn't given any say in the matter.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jared's horrified voice filtered in. "What did I do? What happened? I'm so sorry."
Jensen raised his two hands and made the "time out" signal at Jared, who was perched at the edge of the cushion.
"S'not you," Jensen panted. "S'me. Gimme a second."
Jensen caught his breath and blew it out. "God, I hate when that happens." He looked into Jared's stricken eyes. "That wasn't your fault."
"It sure looked like it was my fault," Jared tried for casual, but he was obviously rattled. "I mean, our first night together and we're already at 'it's not you, it's me.'" Jared tried for another smile.
Jensen breathed a laugh as he leaned back carefully. When that happened, the pain never lasted long, but it always took a couple of breaths to believe it was over.
"So, you've probably noticed that I have a leg issue."
"I noticed that you walked with a colorful crutch, and I assumed you wore some kind of brace under your pant leg because you do something at your knee before you sit." Jared said. "Oh, and now, that." Jared indicated Jensen's blue wheelchair with the spoke wheels.
"Ahh, wheelchair envy." Jensen leaned forward to reposition his leg back on the pillow.
"Well, it's more like crutch envy, but I have pins and bracelets with the exact same rainbow color scheme." Jared's cheeks blushed. "In case you didn't know."
"I didn't know, but I figured." Jensen used the remote to mute the TV. "Would you like to know why I use a wheelchair, wear a brace and need crutches? It's okay if you don't, because I know it makes some people uncomfortable to talk about this stuff."
"I want to know," Jared said. "If you want to tell me."
"It's okay with me. Nothing I can do about it anyway." He shrugged. "It's the way I am, now."
"Then if you don't mind, I'd like to know."
Jensen sat back against the cushions. "Remember I said that I was thrown into the stairwell and that saved my life?"
"Yes."
"It also cracked a couple of vertebrae in my back and left me with some nerve damage and partial paralysis in my left leg. My left femur-thigh bone-was broken, and my foot must have caught on the step or something because my leg twisted all the way around at the knee. Even after several surgeries, my knee is blown for the duration. Before you wince too hard in sympathy, I don't remember any of the initial injury except for seeing my leg pointing the wrong way before I got hit in the head with…something."
"Jesus, Jensen. That's awful."
"I wear a brace that straps high around my thigh. It automatically locks and unlocks the knee when I'm walking and goes across my knee and ankle to the bottom of my foot. The lock is what you see me fiddling with sometimes when I sit, because I can lock and unlock it manually if I want to. The brace is called a stance control knee, ankle, foot orthosis, or KAFO. It's actually a pretty high tech device.
"What does it do?"
"Do you really want to know?" Jensen laughed. "Because it's not as exciting as it sounds."
"Yeah, I really do." Jared smiled back.
"All right, I'll keep it simple. When you walk, your leg is either swinging or standing. It swings through, then your heel strikes and you're standing-in stance phase-before pushing off into swing again. The brace allows me to flex the knee when swinging and it locks during standing. Sometimes, if I haven't been walking-only standing-I have to manually unlock it to sit, but it allows me to walk pretty well. It doesn't get in the way of my driving because, as I said, I use my right leg for that. I need the crutch to keep from toppling over if the sidewalk is uneven-and it helps take some of the weight off if I get sore."
"What happened just now?" Jared asked, looking at the coffee table.
"That pain was nerve pain from overactive pain receptors. It's unpredictable. A soft knock in the right place, like tonight, and it zings all the way up and down. The pain doesn't last long, and it doesn't cause any damage, so don't worry." Jensen paused. "See, it really wasn't your fault."
Jared dropped his eyes and was silent.
"Hey, don't worry. I'm really okay."
"No, you got badly injured in your accident, and it looks like you'll be hurt for a long time."
"Probably forever," Jensen agreed, gently.
Jared nodded, sadly.
"It's okay, Jay. It could have been much worse."
Jared swallowed before continuing. "But nothing physically happened to me. I wasn't even near the plane crash. I feel like-like-if I were hurt, like you, at least I would deserve the depression, the guilt, and the overwhelming sadness I feel." He looked up at Jensen. "How fucked up is that?"
"Not fucked up, Jay. I get it, I do, but you don't need to be hurt in your bones and blood to be hurt. To paraphrase what Liz said, it's not a pissing contest to see who deserves to be the unhappiest."
Jared looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that's not even close to what Liz said."
"You're right," Jensen grinned. "Women don't have pissing contests. Now pass me some of those blue corn chips. I don't know how they taste; I bought them because they're pretty."
They both munched on big blue chips. Jared dipped his in cheese and Jensen went back to the regular Tostitos.
Jared drank a mouthful of beer and then regarded Jensen. "You're, I don't know. You're so…"
"What? Unique? Technologically interesting?" Jensen smiled as he swirled a chip into the cheese. "Bionic?"
"Brave."
"No." Jensen said. "I'm not. Don't make the mistake of thinking that because I got hurt, that I'm in any way brave."
"I think you are."
"Wrong. Bravery is when you fearlessly march into battle. There ain't nothing fearless about me," Jensen said. "Given the choice, I would've run away."
"You haven't, though. Run away, I mean. You're here, fighting for all of us, and doing it with a leg brace and wheelchair." Jared sat back and thought. "But you're right. That's not bravery. That's courage. Courage is knowing that the battle is dangerous but going in anyway."
"Shut up." Jensen waved it away good naturedly. "I was in a crash, I broke some bones and now I limp. I had no choice."
"And you created a group for people who need you." Jared countered. "I need you. I may very well have done something stupid last night if you hadn't answered the phone."
"Jay, if it's that bad, if it gets that bad, you've got to tell someone." Jensen shifted close. "If it is that bad, you need more help than a phone call to me. You need to call Jeff."
"I'm okay now."
"Jared, please, I couldn't stand it if you hurt yourself. There's no shame in needing help. None at all."
"I know that, Jen."
Jensen kept speaking. "You need to be honest with me. When it gets hard, call me and let me know. I can come and sit with you, or talk to you, or just hold your hand 'til you can breathe again." He placed his hand on top of Jared's.
Jared took Jensen's hand, turned it, and placed a soft kiss on his palm. "It won't happen."
"It might, Jay, and if it does, I'm here." Jensen closed his eyes for a moment as Jared kissed each knuckle. "Let me help you."
"You already have," Jared whispered. "But if it gets bad, I will call you. If it gets worse, I'll call Jeff."
"You can't kill yourself." Jensen's voice caught. "You can't do that."
"I won't. I promise you, I won't." Jared looked intently into Jensen's eyes. "I'm guilty of a lot of things, but I have never, ever broken a promise, and I give this one to you. I will not kill myself."
Jared's eyes glistened and Jensen felt that his own eyes were damp. "Thank you," Jensen said before burying his face in Jared's chest.
Jared's arms came around him in a firm embrace and Jensen felt Jared kissing the top of his head.
"Is this okay?" Jared asked. "Is it okay to do this?"
Jensen sighed deeply and pulled back. "You know what?"
Jared touched Jensen's cheek. "What?"
"We should go on a date. A real date away from Mindy's peanut butter cookies and stale Mr. Coffee and cats named Misha."
Jared leaned in close. "I think that's a great idea." He nuzzled Jensen's neck briefly and then sat up. "Where would you like to go? When can I pick you up?"
"That's a lot of questions. Let's finish the nachos first and then figure it out."
"Give me a hint, though." Jared cocked his head to the right and gave a half smile. "When?"
"Soon," Jensen laughed. "I'll look through my extensive social calendar and then pencil you in."
"Gosh, I'm really looking forward to being penciled in," Jared pouted.
"Oh, look." Jensen scribbled a couple of lines across his left palm with his right index finger. "It seems that next Saturday night just opened up."
Jared leaned over and "wrote" his name in Jensen's hand with his finger. "There. I'm in."
Jensen held his palm up. "Looks like."
"How does seven o'clock sound?" Jared asked.
Jensen smiled. "Sounds like a plan."
"Good." Jared snuggled close to Jensen on the couch. "I have one more question."
"Shoot." Jensen leaned back comfortably, petting Misha's back.
"Is there any candy, or ice cream, or anything with high fructose corn syrup content in this place?"
Jensen looked Jared up and down. It appeared that Jared's clothes may have fit him better twenty pounds ago. Appetite and grief don't mix well, so, for Jared, Jensen made a painful decision.
"Next time you come over for TV night, I promise that the main fare will consist of Twinkies, Fruit Loops and root beer."
Jared laughed. "Add chocolate chip cookies and Twizzlers and you have a deal." Jared leaned across to scratch behind Misha's ear.
Jensen waved the remote at the TV, clicking it on and said, "Now tell me again, which one is married to Bones?"
~~~~
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On to Chapter Three
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