SOS Red- Chapter Six
As promised, the news hits in morning, the article causing a firestorm of texts and calls that go ignored on Jensen’s iPhone. The concern of breaking the news to Jared ends up being a non-problem, as he woke up first to make breakfast and turned on the television in the living room to see the report, plastered all over the 50-inch screen.
“What the fuck Jensen?” he spits, pacing the living room as he scrolls through the article on Jensen’s tablet, a robust exposé outlining the failures of the Austin PD, the dangers facing the public, and the structure of the testing and detainment program set up in a former drug rehab facility tucked on the outskirts of downtown.
“Jay, it’s fine,” Jensen says, trying to calm him down. “It’s no big deal. We’ll get you tested and that will be the end of it.”
“You don’t know that,” Jared bites, tossing the tablet onto the coffee table where it lands with enough of a plop to make Jensen wince. “For all we know, they might just lock me up on the spot.”
“Why would they?” Jensen asks, pitching for an attempt at reason. “You’re not showing any of the symptoms they talked about in the article.” And he isn’t. No agitation, no rapid personality change, no reports of hearing voices or intrusive thoughts, no unexplained aggression. Outside of the last fifteen minutes since Jared found out, he has been even keel and completely himself. And, honestly, this news would cause anyone to become a bit agitated.
“No,” Jared acknowledges, deflating a bit. “But what if that doesn’t matter? What if they’re just taking everyone in?”
“They’re not,” Jensen assures, patting at his hip to encourage him to take a seat. “Come on, sit.”
Begrudgingly, Jared does. After a beat, he murmurs, “I don’t want to get locked up somewhere, Jen. I don’t want them to take me away from you.” Jensen’s heart twists painfully in his chest.
“You won’t,” he swallows around the lump in his throat. “I won’t let them.”
_____
“The clinic opens at 11:00,” Jensen announces as they stretch out on the deck in the glaring Monday sun, watching Sadie sniff around the yard. “If we go right when they open, we’ll be back in plenty of time for the groceries to be delivered.”
Jared shifts uncomfortably in the chair beside him. “Or we could go tomorrow.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Why would you want to go tomorrow when you’re so freaked about it? Wouldn’t it be better just to get it over with?” The deadline for testing is Wednesday at 5:00 PM, the promise of a warrant looming for any of those identified who don’t meet the requirement by that time. Jensen has been watching the comments on the articles afternoon, seeing the widespread outrage over Austin giving a three day window for testing when the news stations are touting this as a major safety crisis to the city.
“Because I’m so freaked out about it,” Jared emphasizes, eyes widening. “I just need a little bit of time to wrap my mind around this, alright? Can I have a day?”
Jensen looks at him, mind snagging on the guilt that he has already known about this for over twelve hours and didn’t tell Jared. He hadn’t wanted to worry him, unsure if Danneel had gone off the deep end or was delivering the brutal truth. When it had been confirmed this morning to be the latter, Jensen couldn’t own up to the fact he had been sitting on the information for hours, not when it was something this big. He had acted shocked right along Jared and now the guilt of the deception is eating at him.
Jensen has had thirteen hours to process this information. Jared hasn’t even had one.
“Okay,” Jensen agrees reluctantly. “We’ll go tomorrow.” Relief washes over Jared’s face as he nods, smiling as he turns his attention back to Sadie. Trying to relax back into his chair, Jensen can’t help but sneak glances at Jared, searching for something that feels just out of reach.
_____
For the entirety of the afternoon, Jared is a blur of anxiety, cycling throughout the house in nonstop bouts of movements. He washes all his clothes that were in storage, unpacks some of his belongings, and intercepts the armfuls of groceries that Jensen collects from the delivery kid at the doorway, shuttling them to the kitchen to fit onto the open shelves of the pantry and refrigerator. Jensen’s many attempts to have him sit down and relax are unsuccessful and eventually he just stands back and lets him flit around, knowing this is how Jared deals with stress.
Having Jared rush around makes Jensen anxious, but he’d be lying if he were to say he isn’t a mess of nerves anyway. He’s scrutinizing Jared’s every move and then criticizing himself for doing so, igniting an internal war against the voice telling him Jared is obviously fine and the one with the idea planted he could potentially not be. He wants to drag him down to the clinic to get the test, but he promised Jared, and he keeps his promises.
With Jared reorganizing the pasta sauces in the pantry in the kitchen, Jensen’s phone dings. It’s Mackenzie.
Hey! Did Jared get tested?
No, Jensen types. We’re going in the morning.
Why?! she texts back immediately, and Jensen inhales deeply.
J’s kinda freaked. Wants to go later. Jensen glances over his shoulder, watching as Jared places a jar of salsa next to the pasta sauces before surveying the rest of the groceries left to put away.
Jen you need to go asap. You could be in danger. He stares at the screen, thinking back to the couple of days they all spent together. Mackenzie showed no signs of thinking something was off with Jared when they were at Sherrie’s home, but now thinks Jensen could be in danger?
He doesn’t have it Mac.
You don’t know that, comes the reply just seconds later. Glancing over his shoulder again, he catches Jared’s eye as he grabs a box of pasta out of the paper grocery bag. Jared smiles at him and he smiles back.
Yeah I do, Jensen texts back before tossing his phone on the couch, abandoning it to go offer his help again in the kitchen.
_____
The next murder hits the news around 4 PM. It’s another one of Jared’s group, a twenty-year-old girl who killed her parents, brother, and sister in the morning, presumably after finding out about the testing requirement. She is the first to be taken into custody alive. For all Jared’s movement today, he goes completely still at the breaking news flash on the screen, slack-jawed as he slumps down onto the couch next to Jensen, eyes not leaving the TV.
Jensen tries to think of what he can say to make this all okay, but nothing manifests on his tongue.
_____
The next death hits two hours later. It’s another from Jared’s group, not a murder, but an attempted one. The man had attacked the nurse at the testing clinic in the early afternoon, trying to strangle her as he pinned her down. He wouldn’t heed onsite police warnings to let her go and was tased, which had no effect. Poised to use the used needle from his blood draw, deemed as a biohazard, as a weapon, he was shot and died from his injuries. The nurse survived.
The mood has gone from dark to something Jensen can’t even describe, Jared nearly nonresponsive and Jensen too exhausted to try. The testing clinics are closed now, and, promise or not, regret begins to creep into Jensen’s chest. No matter how strongly he believes that Jared is unaffected, he feels irresponsible for not pushing him to get tested this morning.
Four of nine now, in less than a week, and Jensen can’t keep chalking this up to a coincidence.
_____
Call me, Mackenzie texts as Jensen is finishing the dishes after a painfully silent, awkward dinner. Jared hasn’t spoken much since the first death today, but after the second, he has shut down nearly completely.
“Hey,” Jensen tosses over his shoulder to where Jared sits, blindly petting Sadie as he stares at the TV, CNN reporting on the “Austin Returned Dead Murder Crisis,” which is apparently as snappy a tagline as anyone could come up with.
“Hmm?”
“You okay with me taking a shower?” Jensen asks, slowly sliding his phone into his back jeans pocket.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
Nodding, Jensen turns and heads towards the stairs, making quick work of them and grabbing some clothes from the master closet. He slips into the bathroom, turning the shower on full blast, hoping it will drown out the noise of the conversation, before taking his phone from his pocket and calling Mackenzie.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice quiet.
“Hey,” she sighs, sounding a bit relieved. “How are you?”
“Been better,” he breathes a laugh, though there’s no humor in his voice.
“How’s…”
“Jared’s fine,” Jensen answers automatically. “Freaked out, but fine.”
“That’s good,” Mackenzie responds carefully. “Did you hear about the other-”
“Yeah,” Jensen nods, pacing his bathroom floor. “We did.”
“Jen, you have to get him tested,” she blurts, like it physically pained her to keep the words inside even this long.
“I know, Mac,” he snaps, forcing himself to breathe. “I’m aware. We’re getting him tested, first thing in the morning.”
“Okay,” she says, hesitating slightly. “Jen, on the news they gave a police line, for families who have these people staying with them.”
“These people.”
“It’s to help, to set up an emergency plan in case something goes wrong,” she continues, ignoring his objection. “You need to have a backup plan. From what they’re saying, they just snap. They’re totally fine, and then they’re not.”
“Mac-”
“I called them.”
“You did what?” Jensen asks, incredulous.
“I called them,” she repeats. “I-”
“Why the hell would you call them?” Jensen hisses. “You’re not involved in this at all.”
“I am,” Mackenzie protests. “You’re my brother and like it or not, I’m going to do all I can to protect you.” Jensen’s mind is racing. What does that even mean? Are the police coming to their house? Are they going to take Jared in?
“What-”
“It’s just a backup plan,” she reiterates, voice placating. “I’ll text you the information. I have the direct number to an officer. It will route through a hotline, so someone will get your call or text the moment you send it, day or night. They have all your information. If you need them to come to you place, just tell them and they’ll be right there. Or they can answer any questions you have. They can help get him tested if he is combative. If you feel unsafe, they can help get you safe.”
“Mac-”
“Just take the information, Jensen,” she pleads. “I need… I need to know you have the information.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, not having the fight in him to push the issue any further. He wants to tell her she overstepped her bounds, that she shouldn’t have done what she did, but he knows he probably would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed, would probably have done something even more intrusive.
“Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?” she asks. “I could come over.”
“No. No, that would just make everything worse.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him,” she admits, voice hushed to a near whisper, like it’s a carefully guarded secret.
“Mac, he’s not going to do anything,” Jensen insists, dragging a hand over his face. “It’s Jared.”
“Yeah,” she says, but her voice sounds unconvinced. “I’m not going to… I want it to be him, too, Jen. But you have to protect yourself. You have to prepare yourself for the possibility it might not be.”
Jensen’s stomach drops. Jared being Jared isn’t something he wants. It’s something that Jared is. His friends who spoke to him over Zoom for a couple hours may have their doubts, but Jensen thought that his sister, his family, who spent actual time with Jared, would know, at least. The fact that Mackenzie isn’t sure now, when he was so positive she had been, is a punch to the gut.
“It’s him,” he repeats, on instinct more than anything, and a quiet silence ensues. “We’re going to get tested in the morning and then coming home and- shit. Fuck.”
“What?”
“Sadie has an appointment at the groomer’s. I totally forgot.”
“Can’t you reschedule?” Mackenzie asks, clearly not following his line of thought that an appointment with a dog groomer is at the top of the agenda at a time like this. “You’re not putting off the testing for-”
“No, I know. We’re not. It’s just, I rescheduled a couple weeks ago and now her claws are crazy and bothering her and she really needs to get in and the groomer is really booked up but she had a cancellation and I can’t cancel but we really shouldn’t be going anywhere until all this calms down and-”
“Hey, breathe,” Mackenzie interrupts, putting an end to his panicked ramblings. “When’s the appointment?”
“1:00.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” she says. “I have the afternoon off tomorrow. I can pick her up and take her.”
“What? Why-”
“Doctor’s appointment,” Mackenzie explains dismissively, “but I just decided to take the rest of the afternoon off. I can take her.”
“Are you sure? I-”
“Jensen. Yes, I can handle taking Sadie to her nail appointment. It’s fine.”
“Alright,” Jensen agrees reluctantly. “Thanks, Mac.”
“No problem,” she says. “If anything, and I mean anything comes up, you let me know, okay?”
“Will do,” he agrees.
“I love you.”
Jensen swallows, “Love you too. Bye.” Ending the call, he begins to strip for his shower. Just as he’s ready to get into the shower, the phone beeps. It’s a text from Mac.
Detective Mario Garcia, call it or text SOS Red and they will send police to your address. Jensen stares at the phone number for the officer, swallowing hard. Regardless of if he believes Jared is affected, Jensen is now in possession of a panic button. He isn’t sure if that is a comfort or not.
_____
In bed that night, Jared’s back is a rigid line, positioned toward Jensen again across that invisible dividing line. Jensen stares at it, catalogues the tenseness of the muscles, the set of his shoulders.
“Jared,” he tries after several minutes of stiff silence, reaching out to touch Jared’s shoulder. After several seconds, Jared rolls over to his back, seemingly irritated, his head tilting to look at Jensen.
“What?” he asks flatly.
“Talk to me,” Jensen says, frowning a bit at his response.
“About what?” Jared asks, annoyance evident in his voice.
“You. How are you? You’ve been quiet.”
“What’s there to say?” Jared laughs, a barren sound, devoid of humor. “It’s been a shitty day.”
“I know,” Jensen says slowly, careful with his words. “But you can’t just shut down on me, man. You’ve gotta talk to me.”
Jared sets his jaw. “I don’t.”
Uneasy now, Jensen forces himself to continue. “I just want to help.”
“You can help by giving me space,” Jared bites, the tone of his voice aggressive yet quietly controlled, and it’s not quite like anything Jensen has ever heard from him. This isn’t like anything he’s ever dealt with, Jensen tries to remind himself, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.
“Okay,” Jensen concedes quietly, raising his palms in a mock surrender gesture. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
Jared eyes at him, assessing, before nodding slightly. “Okay.”
After a few more seconds of silence, Jensen decides to chance his luck because he needs to know. “We still going in the morning?”
Jared flashes him an exasperated look. “I said we would.”
“I know,” Jensen acknowledges, relieved at the reassurance. “Just wanted to make sure.” He watches as Jared rolls away from him, going to settle back on his opposite side facing away from him.
“Goodnight.” It’s less of a sweet bid and more of a definitive end to their conversation.
“No goodnight kiss?” Jensen asks, furrowing his brows.
“I’m going to bed.”
And, no, they haven’t exactly been romantic since Jared has gotten back. It has been such a whirlwind since they have gotten home that outside of the odd kiss, nothing has happened. But Jared always, without fail, gives Jensen a kiss goodnight, whether it be a kiss on the lips or one on the cheek or forehead. He never just goes straight to sleep, not on purpose, anyway.
“Oh,” Jensen says, staring again at the line of Jared’s back. He turns the light off shortly after that, but doesn’t sleep, just watches the stillness of Jared’s body as he does. Makes sure he stays still. Most of all, though, he spends hours in the night trying to silence the questions of is this it?
Because he knows it’s stupid, knows Jared not giving him a goodnight kiss one night should not be cause for worrying the world is ending. But Jensen has been saying it all week, has been repeating the same words. It’s Jared.
It’s Jared.
_____
Jensen finally falls asleep when the dawn begins to steal the night away, the first streaks of light in the morning sky bringing a faint sense of safety, even though he knows it’s an illusion. He awakes three hours later to five different text messages informing him there has been another murder and the bottom drops out.
There is no such thing as safety.
_____
“Oh,” is all Jared says when he hears of the news, busying himself with turning on the stove to start breakfast when Jensen finally pads down into the kitchen at 9 AM, panicked at having awoken without him at his side.
“Yeah,” Jensen says, peering at him awaiting an additional response that doesn’t come. Jared doesn’t look at him as he begins cracking the eggs into the pan, one after the other, piling the empty shells on a folded paper towel. At the lack of response, he goes for the obvious, prompting, “Making eggs?”
“Yep.” Jensen just stands, watching as Jared cooks. After a solid thirty seconds, Jared says, “You can sit down.”
“I know,” Jensen acknowledges and the thing is, he could. Every instinct in his body, though, is telling him not to, is telling him to stay, to watch, to ensure the food is not tampered with. And he feels awful for thinking it, he does. He doesn’t even know what in his house Jared could use to poison him, but all Jensen knows is he’s been out of his sight and that can’t happen again. Not until he gets the all clear.
“Hey,” he says, mustering some fake enthusiasm. “You want some waffles? I happen to make a mean Eggo.”
To his surprise, the corners of Jared’s lip upturn slightly, a huff of a laugh escaping him. “Sure.” Thrilled at the response, Jensen hurries to pull the waffles from the freezer, keeping an eye on Jared in his peripheral. See, he tells himself. You’re overthinking this whole thing. He’s fine.
Popping a couple in the toaster, he glances back over to Jared, who is sprinkling some shredded cheddar across the scrambled eggs. “So. Eat, then head to the clinic?”
Jared purses his lips. “Why don’t we go a bit later?” Jensen’s heart drops.
“You said we’d go this morning,” he reminds him, fighting to keep his voice even as it threatens to shake.
“Yeah, but I was thinking. They’re probably going to be busy first thing,” Jared says, chopping at the eggs with the spatula in his hand. “It’s probably better to wait until afternoon.”
Jensen stares at him in disbelief. “Jared.”
“What?”
“You can’t be serious.”
Jared throws him an annoyed look. “What?”
“They aren’t going to be busy.”
“You don’t know that,” Jared counters, pushing harder at the eggs.
“Half of the group is dead, Jared. They aren’t going to be busy,” Jensen snaps, unable to stop the words before they spill from his mouth. Jared’s eyes narrow.
“Nice, Jen,” he says flatly, turning his attention to busying himself with removing the pan from the burner.
“I’m sorry,” Jensen apologizes, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry, I just. We need to go. It’s not going to be busy. Even if they were, it’s not like we have anything to do anyway. We can wait.”
“No.” The word comes out, like a punch, just as the waffles pop out of the toaster and Jensen jumps.
“Jared-”
“I said no, Jensen,” Jared asserts, his voice firm, like a parent chastising their child for asking for something on the hundredth try. Annoyed, unwavering, and unquestionable done. Jensen can feel his pulse quickening again, his breath catching in his throat.
He questions if he should hold firm, if he should push for them to go now. He wants to go now, wants to go yesterday, but there’s something in Jared’s eyes that tells him it’s not a good idea, that if he pushes, he might not go at all, and Jensen can’t do another day of this. He can’t do another night worried if he falls asleep he might not wake up, worried that Jared is going crazy, worried that he is going crazy. He can’t deal with this guilt anymore of questioning whether Jared is okay; every second he thinks he may not be feels like a lifetime of the worst betrayal.
What he can do, even though he hates it, is wait until afternoon. This afternoon. Just a few more hours.
“Okay,” Jensen surrenders, ignoring how the word feels like a death sentence in of itself. “But we have to go this afternoon. No later than 2:00. No pushing it back again; I mean it, Jared.”
Jared nods, reaching for plates in the cupboard. “Yeah. Promise.”
_____
The rest of the morning into early afternoon progresses in a state of suspended animation, like life has hit a pause button until Jensen finally gets Jared into that clinic. Jared has set up camp in front of the TV, wordlessly watching CNN coverage and Jensen gives in to the fate. Any interactions they have are short and tense, and the nerves are bundled tightly inside Jensen’s chest, his entire body anxiety-tensed and jumping at every interruption.
Around 12:40, he notices a text from Mac pop up on the screen of his iPhone, the ringer off due to the storm of worried text messages he has been receiving all morning from his family and friends. After the third stern look from Jared, he turned the phone to silent, carefully avoiding escalating Jared’s already sour mood.
I’m on my way- everything ok?
Yeah, thanks, Jensen texts back quickly before adding, Text when you get here and I’ll bring her out. He puts the phone on the armrest of the chair, glancing up to see Jared looking at him suspiciously.
“Mac is stopping by to take Sadie to her grooming appointment,” he explains, trying to force his nerves calm. “She really needs her nails trimmed.”
Jared just stares back, assessing. “Is that necessary?”
“She really needs them trimmed.”
“Is it necessary to have Mackenzie take her?” Jared clarifies, the full use of Mac’s name striking Jensen as odd. He can’t remember the last time he called her by that and not just Mac.
“I was gonna just cancel the appointment, but she offered,” Jensen shrugs, going for nonchalance. “And she has a key, so she can drop her off if we’re gone before she gets back.” Jared doesn’t respond and Jensen clutches his phone, slowly standing.
“I’m gonna go grab her stuff,” he mutters, flitting off to locate Sadie’s leash. It’s in the laundry room, after an unfortunate incident with a squirrel in the park that ended up with Sadie dragging her leash through a puddle of mud, and Jensen is busying himself with grabbing it from the hook when the doorbell rings.
“Fuck,” he bites under his breath, turning on his heel with leash on hand. He’d told Mac to stay in the car for a reason. The reason, which Jensen sees in slow motion when he rounds the corner, beats him to the door.
“Hey!” Mackenzie chirps as Jared opens the door, not responding to her. He simply stands and stares, blocking her way into the house. Jensen hurries to clip the leash to Sadie’s collar and pushes past Jared, crowding onto the patio.
“Hey!” he greets, trying to sound upbeat. “Thanks for doing this, Mac. We really appreciate it.” He holds out the leash to hand it over to his sister, but she doesn’t take it, instead standing in place, shifting her wide-eyed stare back and forth between him and Jared. Knowing she isn’t going to leave without a little cajoling, he places his hand flat on her upper back, carefully guiding her towards her car.
“Jensen,” she starts quietly, panic evident in her tone.
“Mac, please,” he murmurs, opening the back door to Mackenzie’s sedan and loading Sadie onto the seat.
“Something is wrong,” she continues, keeping her voice low as her eyes skip to Jared over his shoulder. “Something’s not-”
“I know,” he interrupts. He can feel Jared’s eyes boring into his back. “I can’t. This isn’t helping.”
“You’re in danger,” she hisses. “Why didn’t he get tested? He-”
“We’re going now,” he says, fighting to keep his voice low. “He promised.”
“He promised yesterday-”
“Mac,” he pleads. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Jensen, you need to call-”
“I’ve gotta go,” he reiterates, turning. “Text me when you get back. I mean it. You have your key if we’re gone?”
“Yeah, but-”
“Okay,” he waves, faking a wide smile as he steps onto the porch, Jared still standing in the doorway. “Thanks, Mac!” As soon as he steps inside, Jared locks the door.
“What the fuck was her problem?” Jared spits, stalking off towards the kitchen. Jensen stands in his spot, frozen.
“She doesn’t have a problem,” Jensen says carefully, forcing himself to follow.
“She does,” Jared insists, angrily clattering through the cabinets to retrieve a pot, which he then fills with water.
“She’s just worried you haven’t gotten tested yet. Once you get tested, she’ll chill,” Jensen explains, confusedly watching Jared place the pot on the stove. “What are you doing?”
“Making food.”
“You can’t- we’re going to the clinic now,” Jensen reminds him, heartbeat pounding in his ears.
“I’m not going.”
“You,” Jensen sputters, his voice paper thin. “Yes you are. You promised you were going. You have to go.”
“I’m not doing it. It’s a set up,” Jared says, voice taking on a hysterical edge. “It’s so clearly a goddamn set up.”
“A set… Jared, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Every person has tested positive so far, Jensen,” Jared continues. “Every single one. If I go down there, I’m going to magically have it too and they’re going to lock me up forever.”
“Of course everyone has it so far. They’ve all gone off the deep end. That doesn’t mean-”
“Is that what you want, Jensen? For them to lock me up? To get rid of me?” Jared doesn’t look at him as he reaches for the fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine, violently opening and closing all the drawers as he tries to locate the corkscrew to open the bottle.
“Of course not,” Jensen cries, throwing his arms out at his sides. “But you’re not being logical here. This isn’t optional. If you don’t get tested by tomorrow, they arrest you. You can’t just decide not to do it.”
“I can,” Jared insists, stabbing the cork with the bottle opener and putting some muscle into winding it. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“How?” Jensen asks, wincing at the sudden, loud pop of the cork.
“We can leave.”
Jensen stares, mouth agape. “What? No. We’re not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere, Jared. You have to have this done.” The glare Jared gives him chills him to the bone.
“Then I can go,” Jared sneers, stomping over to the pantry, all his movements bursting with volatile energy.
“How?” Jensen challenges, crossing his arms at his chest. “How are you getting anywhere without a car?”
“I’ll take my mom’s car,” Jared snaps, retrieving a box of pasta and dumping it into the water, though it’s not quite to a boil yet. “Or Chad’s bike.” Jensen freezes at the suggestion.
“You’re not-”
“What?”
“You’re not taking Chad’s bike,” Jensen says, voice muted and shaking.
Jared huffs. “Oh, right. I can’t ride a motorcycle ever again because of your issues.”
Jensen gapes at him in incredulity. “My issues? You mean the part where you died?”
Jared, honest to god, laughs, the icy sound sending a shiver up Jensen’s spine. “It was an accident, Jensen,” he says dismissively.
“It was the most traumatic moment of my life,” Jensen counters, voice barely above a whisper. “And you can’t even-”
“I get it was hard-”
“It wasn’t hard, Jared,” Jensen bites, emotions heavy in his chest. “I was…”
He trails off, unsure how to put this into words, to make him see. He can’t sum it up in a word, in a few even, but maybe if Jared hears how it happened, if he hears how traumatic it was, Jensen can get through to him. It’s his best shot. It’s all he’s got.
“We were riding and it was a sunny day, a perfect day. We had gotten lunch and were headed home and it just. It happened out of nowhere,” Jensen says, swallowing thickly. “Out of nowhere, you hit and I. It didn’t even look that bad. I thought… it didn’t even look that bad. I went up and you were conscious and I thought you were alright. Thank God, he’s going to be just fine, I thought. I thought,” Jensen stutters, tears breaking through. “But then you started seizing and I just. I put your head in my lap and I realized your helmet had come off. I didn’t even realize before then, but. It had and I just thought. Oh god.
“I had bruises on my legs for weeks, you were seizing so hard. It went on forever. And when it stopped, when you finally stopped, I realized you weren’t breathing. You weren’t, you weren’t breathing, Jay. A nurse stopped when she saw the accident and she took you from me, started CPR, and I just. I started screaming at some point, I guess. I wasn’t even really aware. The ambulance arrived and I can’t remember from there but you just. They never got you back, Jared. You were just gone.”
He looks at Jared, eyes wide, pleading silently with tears streaming down his face as he watches as Jared stare at him with no emotion on his face, blank and cold behind the eyes. Jensen feels his entire body go to ice, prickling up his legs and through his veins, the dread familiar in a way but new and life-ending in another. In that moment he knows. He just knows.
“I picked out your casket, Jared,” he whispers, a last ditch effort against everything he already feels his in his bones, the terror that is cutting off his air supply and making his body tremble. Jared doesn’t react.
“I’m sorry that happened,” Jared says flatly after a moment, no feeling behind the words. “But that doesn’t mean-”
Jensen doesn’t know what to do, so he just reacts. He shoots out a hand, knocking over the full bottle of wine, which begins chugging out the sticky-sweet liquid all over Jared’s abdomen and legs. Jared yelps, cursing as he jumps back, reaching to right the bottle.
“What the fuck?” he yells at the same time Jensen says, “Shit, Jared, I’m so sorry.” Jared glares at him, holding his wet hands at his side, completely soaked.
“I’m sorry,” Jensen apologizes, grabbing a huge wad of paper towels to begin soaking up the mess. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Nice,” Jared bites. “Goddamnit, I’m all fucking sticky.”
“Take a shower,” Jensen says, hoping he sounds casual. “I’ll take care of this and finish lunch.” Jared stares at him for a moment before stalking off towards the bedroom without another word. Shakily breathing a sigh of relief, Jensen focuses on mopping up the liquid, carefully listening as Jared stomps around the bedroom, presumably grabbing clothes to change into, before slamming the door to the master bathroom shut. Jensen is turning off the stove by the time he hears the shower turn on, and then racing to his phone.
Opening up the message Mackenzie sent last night, he clicks on the phone number she gave him for Officer Garcia and, with shaky fingers, types SOS Red, staring at the words for a moment adding, he isn’t himself please send help.
The response comes quickly but feels like an eternity as Jensen stands in the kitchen, every second feeling like lost time. Help is on the way. Can you safely leave the home? If you can, do, and leave the front door unlocked.
Jensen slowly slides on his shoes, heart convulsing in his chest as he types, Yes. Moving towards the door, he listens to the sound of the shower, terrified he will hear it shut off, the sound of footsteps, or Jared’s voice. He hears none of those things, though, as he carefully opens the door and steps outside, closing it behind him as quietly as possible. Jensen takes off down the sidewalk as fast as his legs can carry him, crossing the street and heading off to the next block, desperate to get as far out of Jared’s possible line of sight as he can.
Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he brings up the conversation with Mac again and shakily texts, Don’t go back to the house. I called them.
Almost immediately, he gets a response. Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?
I’m down the street. They’re coming. I’m okay. He isn’t sure if the last bit of that is true, but he sends it anyway.
I’m five minutes away, the response comes and Jensen inhales deeply, tears coming to his eyes. I love you, she texts a moment later. It’s then that he loses it.
_____
She finds him a few minutes later, sitting on the curb five blocks from his home, sobbing. He crawls into her car and her arms, and she holds him silently, letting him cry on her.
After a few minutes, when the crying slows a bit, she finally asks, “Hon, what happened?”
“It’s not Jared,” is all he can manage.
_____
The police lead Jared out of the house in handcuffs and boxers, transporting him to the detainment facility for testing. They allow Jensen back into the home a couple hours later and he tries to ignore how glaringly empty it feels, how vacant. He goes to the kitchen and pours the soggy pasta down the drain, goes to his bedroom and looks at all the knocked over bottles in the bathroom from where Jared had fought his arrest.
Mackenzie lingers nearby through it all, helping him pack an overnight bag because he can’t stand to stay here tonight. After pull away in her car, he tries not to focus on how this may be his life now, again, just him and Sadie in this house, alone.
“How was your appointment?” Jensen asks as Mackenzie pulls out of his neighborhood, desperate to talk about anything else.
“What?”
“Your appointment? The one you had this morning?”
“Oh,” she says, sounding a bit embarrassed. “I, uh. I didn’t actually have an appointment.”
Jensen turns to look at her. “What?”
Sounding sheepish, she says, “I may have made up having the afternoon off so I had an excuse to run the errand with Sadie and come check on you.”
Jensen considers this for a moment. “Yeah, that does sound like you.” When his sister barks out a laugh, he clears his throat. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
_____
Jensen isn’t really paying attention, so he doesn’t notice they’re not headed to his sister’s apartment until they’re pulling into the Padalecki’s driveway, Sherrie and Meg standing on the lawn in the fading dusk light.
“Mac,” he says, panicked. “What are you-”
“It’s okay, Jen,” she assures, turning the engine off.
“It’s not,” he insists. “They’re going to hate me, for turning Jared in. For betraying-”
“No one thinks that,” she soothes, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I promise, no one thinks that, Jen. We’ve all been worried about it. We all just want you to be safe.” Jensen doesn’t believe that, feels the shame of betrayal heavy in his chest, but Meg is approaching his door and he can’t exactly ignore her.
“Hey,” he croaks, opening his door. She pulls it all the way open and drags him out, yanking him into a tight hug.
“Meg, I’m sorry,” he whispers, hugging her back.
“Don’t be,” she murmurs, voice thin. “You did the right thing. I’m so glad you’re alright.”
“He tested positive,” Sherrie announces from over Megan’s shoulder, and Jensen’s heart sinks. He knew it, deep down, that Jared had it, but to hear it confirmed still crushes him. “They’re starting the shots tonight and we’ll see I guess.”
Meg burrows her face further into her neck and Jensen clings to her a bit tighter. The shots, the potential cure, with the near nonexistent success rate. To have the world served to them on a platter after years of heartache and then have it yanked away… there is no other word to describe how Jensen feels than broken. Thoroughly and completely broken.
Chapter Seven