Fic: Blue Thunder--Chapter Seven
Jensen watched Danni run up the front steps of the KBLA TV building. When she turned and waved he saluted casually and then turned Blue Thunder around. He wasn’t quite sure what he should do next. Should he hang around the KBLA building and make sure nobody came for Danni? Or should he get as far away from it as possible and try to draw law enforcement to where he was?
The question was answered for him when Blue Thunder’s phone rang again.
It was Jim.
“You’ll be pleased to know that Officer Chikezie auto-rotated to ground safely and she and Observer Knowles are both fine,” Jim said. “You’ll also be pleased to hear that Officer Yazzie called off his pursuit of you after one of the SWAT team fell out his chopper,” Jim’s tone was deeply scathing. “He said there wasn’t much point them shooting at you when their bullets weren’t capable of piercing Blue Thunder’s armor, so he returned to base, with my full support.”
Jensen heard Sterling’s disgruntled voice in the background and grinned. He was pleased to hear that his colleagues were okay and he told Jim as much. And then he waited for the real purpose of Jim’s call.
“It’s like Time’s Square in my office today,” Jim said after a beat. “I’ve got Mayor Williams in my office now too. He’d like a word.”
There was a brief moment of silence during which Jensen rubbed a hand over his forehead. He wanted nothing more than to tell both Jim and Steve what was going on, but with the boys from Washington still there and with no confirmation that KBLA had broadcast his tape yet, Jensen didn’t want to put anyone else in the firing line. He was already feeling sick about the danger he’d put Danneel in; he couldn’t risk anyone else.
“Jensen,” said the Mayor.
“Morning, Mr Mayor,” Jensen replied.
“Son, I’m gonna ask you very nicely, one last time, to bring that chopper in.”
“I can’t do that, Sir,” Jensen said.
“Why not?”
“I can’t tell you yet.”
When Steve spoke again, Jensen could hear the pain in his voice. “You’ve put me in a real difficult situation here, Son,” he said. “I’ve got the military pressuring me to let them send F-16s after you.”
Jensen closed his eyes. “You do what you gotta do, Steve.”
“Goddamn it!” he heard Jim yell from the background. And then his Captain was speaking directly into the phone again. “You bring that chopper in right now? Do you hear me, Jensen? They’re saying they’re gonna cut you out of the sky like a tumor. Whatever it is, Son, whatever’s going on, we can work it out. But you have to come in.”
“Take care of Danneel for me, Jim,” Jensen said. “I shouldn’t have involved her in this. She…she doesn’t know anything. She just delivered a package for me. And keep an eye on Jared too.”
“Don’t do this, Jensen,” Jim begged. “You come on in, Son.”
“Sorry, Jim,” Jensen disconnected the call. He ignored it when the phone rang again. He was done talking.
Jensen closed his eyes momentarily and then flew toward the financial district. If they were going to send fighter jets after him, then he would play hide-and-seek with them among the city’s tallest skyscrapers.
Jensen circled past a skyscraper under construction, which had a large blue crane on top of it, and he flew past the Sumitomo Bank building. And then he turned Blue Thunder to face the direction he expected the F-16s to come at him from and hovered.
Jensen didn’t have long to wait before two F-16s came streaking toward him.
Jensen bit at his bottom lip and swore under his breath. Any minute now they would shoot a heat-seeking missile at him and those were hard to avoid. The missile would home in on the heat produced by his bird and unless he could find a greater heat source to distract it, his helicopter would be blown apart.
Jensen inclined his head as a thought occurred to him and he grinned and headed out of the financial district.
Jensen caught a glint out of the corner of his eye and then he saw the tell-tale smoke-and-fire trail of an air-to-air missile.
“Shit!” he flew faster.
As soon as he was close enough to read the telephone number, Jensen dialed it.
“Kim’s Korean BBQ,” said Mr Kim’s voice.
“It’s Jensen. You need to get everybody out of your restaurant. Now.”
There was a startled gasp and then a breath. “Why?”
“It’s about to get blown up. Get out. Now.”
A moment later half a dozen staff ran from the place. Mr Kim saw Jensen hovering in the sky and stopped, frowning up at him. Jensen gestured at him to get moving, to run, and Mr Kim did just that.
Jensen waited until the missile was close and then shot upwards. The missile went after the greater heat-source, the industrial chimney of the Korean BBQ restaurant, and the whole place exploded with a fiery force that shook the ground and sent parked cars flying.
The F-16s banked hard and pulled away from the erupting fireball and Jensen flew in the opposite direction, back toward the financial district. He watched in his rear video monitor as sides of beef and whole chickens rained down from the sky, causing traffic chaos. He couldn’t help sniggering.
Mr Kim was probably pretty pissed right now, but Jensen hoped that once he calmed down, he’d realize that Jensen had just done him a favor. After all, the City was going to owe him a massive compensation payout for blowing up his restaurant.
Jensen went back to playing hide-and-seek among the skyscrapers of the financial district and waited to see what would happen next.
Below him, office workers were scurrying out of buildings and onto the street and police cruisers were blocking off roads. Buses had been commandeered to evacuate the CBD and there were fire trucks and ambulances on stand-by too.
Good. Jensen grunted approvingly. He didn’t want anyone getting hurt.
Jensen hovered and watched the evacuation, simultaneously scanning the skies for the return of the F-16s. It wasn’t long before he spotted them in the distance. He watched as they got rapidly bigger and then there was a flare of light and another missile came screaming toward him.
Jensen rounded the skyscraper that he was hovering beside and then stationed himself in the middle of four tall buildings. As the missile approached, Jensen turned the chopper around so that his exhaust was facing it and the missile tightened its course and headed straight for him. The building Jensen was facing was a 54 story skyscraper made of mirrored glass. It was owned by a major insurance company, but wasn’t yet opened for business. The bright morning sun was currently glinting off its upper windows with enough strength to start a small fire.
As soon as the missile was close enough, Jensen flew sideways and watched with satisfaction as the missile smashed straight through the sun-bright window, sending sharp shards of glass tinkling to the ground like thousands of daggers.
Jensen scanned the ground anxiously, but the area below was clear of people.
The F-16s had already gone screaming off toward the horizon to re-group so that they could come at him again.
Jensen went and hovered over the Federal Building and waited.
Blue Thunder’s phone rang.
Jensen answered, but didn’t speak.
“You got your ears on, Son?” said Jim.
Jensen rolled his eyes and then let loose his Southern twang. “Sure have, Uncle Jesse,” he said. “Say, you know how you always used to tell me that the first casualty of war was truth? Well the first casualty of today’s War on Jensen was a barbecue restaurant. I hope y’all are feeling good about that. Then your boys took down an insurance office. You think they have insurance? Probably doesn’t matter. I’m guessing they’ll be suing the City for damages. What do you think, Shepherd?”
There was a lengthy silence and then Jim said, “I hear you’re sitting on top of the Federal Building.”
“Yep,” Jensen said. “Just waiting on those fighter jets to come at me again.”
“They’re not going to,” Jim said. “After that second missile SNAFU, Steve revoked their permission to engage in action over his city. He’s busy making phone calls now, doing damage control. Between you and me, I don’t think he’d be too unhappy if the Federal Building did get blown up. Sterling and Heyerdahl are losing their shit. Sterling’s on the phone trying to go over the Mayor’s head and get the operation back on track. And-” Jim broke off with a sudden curse.
“What?” Jensen said. “Jim? What’s going on?”
“It’s Heyerdahl,” Jim said. “He just headed out in a military helicopter, despite being told the operation had been cancelled and being denied permission to take off. He told the tower to shove their permission, that if you wanted something done right you had to do it yourself.”
Those words had Jensen tumbling back in time. He ended the call and then sat over the Federal Building, one hand on the collective, staring straight ahead with a thousand yard stare as he relived one of his worst memories of the war:
Jensen’s camies are sticking to his back, hot and wet; and beneath his helmet, his damp hair is plastered to his scalp. Still, it’s cooler in the air than on the ground and the mosquitoes aren’t as much of a problem up here either.
“When I get home,” says Macca, “I’m gonna ask my girl to marry me. Gonna buy her a giant fucking rock with my pay check from this ballgame we got goin’ on the side. Maybe even put down a deposit for a house.”
Heyerdahl doesn’t respond to Macca’s youthful enthusiasm and Jensen sure as shit doesn’t. Jensen tried to turn down the money the first time Heyerdahl forced him to do one of these flights; he’s only here because he is being blackmailed, after all. But Heyerdahl wouldn’t hear of it. Jensen figures the money makes him look guilty too and therefore less likely to rat on Heyerdahl. So far, he’s given every dollar and dime of the hush money to An Lac Orphanage.
“Mayday, mayday!” Jensen’s radio crackles. “…pinned down…request…air evac…”
“Ignore them,” says Heyerdahl.
Jensen glances over his shoulder. Heyerdahl is cradling his rifle and Macca is manning the rear gun. The kid meets Jensen’s eyes. He looks uneasy.
Jensen shakes his head. “Can’t do that, Chris. That’s our boys under fire. We can’t just leave them to die.”
Heyerdahl smiles, all teeth. He eyes remain as blank as always. “Sure we can,” he says.
Jensen can see the squadron now, pinned down by heavy artillery fire, just south of the Thạch Hãn River. From memory, it’s D Company and he can’t leave them.
“No,” Jensen says. “This is our job,” He banks left and heads toward the scene of the battle.
“Get back on course, Ackles,” Heyerdahl says.
Jensen shakes his head.
“D Company will be fine. There are other choppers in the area.”
Jensen maintains his current course, toward D Company
It’s a surprise when Heyerdahl hauls Macca off the gun and holds him by the throat, right on the edge of the helicopter.
“Jesus Christ,” Macca yells. “What the fuck, Chris? Let me go.”
“Get back on course, Ackles,” Heyerdahl says, “or I will let him go.”
Jensen licks at his lips. Shakes his head. “C’mon, Chris,” he says softly. “Just radio your guys and tell them we can’t make the meet. Reschedule it. You-”
Macca screams. So does Jensen, a long drawn out “Nooooooo!” as Macca falls, arms out like Jesus on the cross, eyes wide, mouth open.
“Get back on course,” Heyerdahl repeats.
Jensen’s hands are shaking. “What the fuck?” he says. “Why?”
“You wanna be next?” Heyerdahl asks.
Jensen shakes his head.
“Then get back on course.”
Jensen does it. And maybe that makes him a coward, but if he doesn’t live through this, he won’t be able to get justice for Macca.
“He was weak,” Heyerdahl moves up behind Jensen, his breath hot and moist in Jensen’s ear. “A liability. A guy like that, he doesn’t know how to keep secrets. He would’ve blabbed to someone eventually. Not like you,” Heyerdahl caresses Jensen’s cheek with the end of his gun. “You know how to keep a secret, don’t you? Your whole life is a secret. And the last thing we need is for the wrong people to find out about our little trips out to the poppy fields. Right?”
Jensen swallows. “Yeah,” he says.
“You’re shaking,” Heyerdahl says. He sighs. “It’s so hard to get good help these days. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”
Jensen listens to the comforting throp, throp, throp of his rotor blades and vows to report Heyerdahl immediately, if he gets out of this alive.
Throp, throp, throp.
Jensen was hovering on top of the Federal Building. His rotor blades were spinning. And Heyerdahl was heading straight for him in a khaki army helicopter with mounted guns.
“Fuck!” Jensen turned around and hit turbo boost, rocketing away from the threat posed by Heyerdahl.
Flashbacks were never pleasant and they always felt so real, as if there were happening right then, in the present. The fact that he’d had a major flashback while piloting a helicopter as potentially deadly as Blue Thunder chilled Jensen to his very core. He was damn lucky he hadn’t started shooting up civilians.
Heyerdahl chased after him as he flew in between skyscrapers and weaved around buildings. He fired at Jensen several times, but the bullets pinged harmlessly off Blue Thunder’s armored exterior.
Eventually, Jensen lost Heyerdahl. He hovered beside a skyscraper under construction, peering in between floors to see if he could see his nemesis coming at him from the other side. Jensen switched to stealth mode and crept forward, past the edge of the building. Where was Heyerdahl? The direct approach really wasn’t his style. He was far more likely to try to coerce Jensen into surrendering by threatening somebody else.
Jensen’s stomach sank. But who could he threaten? Danneel was at KBLA and Jared was in hospital.
Jensen caught movement out of the corner of his eye just as Heyerdahl charged at him, guns blazing, from behind the big blue crane where he’d been hiding. He blew out Jensen’s side window and Jensen cried out when a bullet struck his upper arm.
“Son of a bitch!” he hurtled forward, out of Heyerdahl’s range and then flew low, skimming the tops of the trees and the fountains in the gardens and courtyards of the financial district.
Heyerdahl chased after him, the guns from his forward-mounted machine gun spraying Blue Thunder’s rear with bullets in a staccato patter that triggered another flashback.
Jensen is trying to take off, has been given the order. His chopper is under small arms fire; he can hear the metallic ping of bullets against the rear of his girl, and he seriously can’t take any more passengers. The Embassy was only supposed to be a secondary evacuation point for embassy staff, but it’s been overrun with evacuees, desperate South Vietnamese people and third country nationals, frantically trying to get out before Saigon falls and the North Vietnamese march in and take over. He already has more people crammed into the chopper than is safe, but there’s still a man trying to push his daughter into the too-crowded space.
The little girl is strung out between her father and the chopper. She’s screaming and clinging to her father who is shouting in Vietnamese, “Save my little girl. Please! Save my little girl.”
“Take off, Lieutenant Ackles,” his radio crackles. “That’s an order.”
“But if I take off, she’ll fall!”
There’s another barrage of gun fire; closer, louder; and people start to scream.
“Take off! Now! Go, go, go!”
There’s more screaming as he pulls hard on the collective and puts his bird in the sky. There’s a high pitched squeal of terror.
Jensen doesn’t look. He can’t look. There are tears streaming down his face, but his hands are steady.
Vietnam gave way to Los Angeles and Jensen wiped at his face. His right arm was throbbing, the pain sharp and clear. He’d lost Heyerdahl though. Somehow, while he’d been lost in his flashback, he’d managed to outfly the other pilot.
--
“Rough her up?” said the voice on the tape. “Is that the latest euphemism for assassination?”
Megalyn and Danni looked at each other, their eyes wide.
“Ho-ly shit,” said Megalyn. “This is dynamite!”
Danneel nodded her agreement, her eyes going straight back to the grainy infra-red footage on the news monitor.
“…one black council woman is acceptable collateral damage.”
Danni gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Megalyn’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, these sons of bitches are going down,” she spat.
“I don’t want any premature attention coming to this project. Blue Thunder might be perceived as a threat if the bleeding heart liberal media get wind of it before we’ve got all the pieces arranged properly on the chessboard.”
“Too late, Asshole,” Megalyn muttered.
Danni nodded. “No wonder Jensen was so keen to get this information out.”
The tape continued to play.
“I think, Mr Pileggi, that I should take him out.”
Megalyn gasped. “No way!” she said.
“You mean kill him? When?”
“As soon as possible.”
Danneel made a small wounded noise.
“Alright. You’ll be given all the help you need. This conversation never took place gentlemen. If it gets back to me, I’ll deny it.”
Megalyn cackled. “Yeah, good luck with that Pileggi. You are so screwed.”
Danneel put her head in her hands. “There’s a hit out on Jensen? I can’t even…”
Megalyn put a hand on her shoulder. “Girl, you just handed me an atomic bomb. Do you know who Mitch Pileggi is?”
Danneel shook her head. “The name sounds vaguely familiar. Why? Who is he?”
“He’s the Republican candidate for the City’s 42nd District. His main campaign issues are law and order, mandatory sentencing for drug offenders, and he’s very anti multiculturalism. From the sound of it, the others in the room were a mix of police, army and probably FBI too.”
Megalyn picked up the phone and called the Director of News on the intercom. “Laurie, you need to come and hear this now. I’ve got film footage taken by the pilot of that chopper. No. He’s not a terrorist, Laurie. He’s actually the good guy in all this, so we better go easy on that ‘deranged Vietnam vet’ angle,” there was a pause and then Megalyn spoke again. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! I’ve got Mitch Pileggi on tape admitting that the police have been deliberately stirring up trouble in the barrio on his orders to justify bringing in this new militarized helicopter and I’ve got him admitting to being involved in a deliberate hit on Councilor Loretta Devine. Apparently she found out what was going on and was planning to expose them. I’ve also got Pileggi on tape approving a hit on Officer Jensen Ackles-that’s the guy in the helicopter-because he figured out what happened to Loretta Devine and why. See! He’s not deranged. He’s not the bad guy. He’s just trying to avoid being murdered. This is big, Laurie. Huge. The fallout from this…this could bring down the Governor! How soon can we get this on air?”
--
Jensen was starting to get dizzy. The bullet was lodged in his arm, which was good because it was keeping him from bleeding out, but he was still bleeding. And while a hot bullet might be self-sterilizing, it also hurt like a bitch.
Jensen and Heyerdahl played cat-and-mouse in-between the buildings for a good ten minutes, until Jensen was so tired and so nauseated and so sore that he thought he might crash. It was almost tempting: Except he’d promised Danneel that he would always keep fighting and, besides, he didn’t want to give that bastard Heyerdahl the satisfaction.
Heyerdahl, he was sure, regretted not killing Jensen back in ’73. He hadn’t really needed to though. When they’d got back to base from that flight where Heyerdahl tossed Macca out of the chopper, Jensen had gone in to see the base commander, only to find that Heyerdahl had beaten him to it. Heyerdahl had told the commander that Jensen had displayed cowardice in the field and refused to fly into gun fire. He’d pushed for Jensen to be court-martialed. Jensen had given his version of events and been told that it was his word against Heyerdahl’s. While Jensen was in with the commander they’d searched his locker and found a heroin injecting kit. Jensen had insisted that it wasn’t his, but the damage to his credibility had been done.
It had been his word against Heyerdahl’s back then, it had been his word against Heyerdahl’s in the parking garage the other day, and it would have been his word against Heyerdahl’s about Project THOR and the hit ordered on him if they hadn’t got it all on tape. This time Heyerdahl would damn himself with his own words; and that was something Jensen wanted to live to see.
“All right,” he said to himself. “Gotta finish this.”
Jensen flew out to the building site where he and Jared had crashed just over a week ago. It was still taped off and closed to the builders.
Heyerdahl was still hot on his tail.
“You ready to see the impossible?” Jensen muttered. “Because I think I’m ready to show you that 360 now.” He pushed turbo boost and then pulled hard on the collective, pulling the chopper up and around in an upside down loop that took him over the top of Heyerdahl’s bird and left him behind it.
“Catch you later, Asshole,” Jensen said and opened fire with Blue Thunder’s nose cannon.
Heyerdahl’s chopper exploded and fell to the ground in a ball of fire.
Jensen watched the falling debris for a moment and tried to feel bad that he’d just killed a man. He just felt numb. And relieved that it was over. He called Jim.
“Heyerdahl crashed,” he told him.
“We’ve arrested Lehne and Sterling,” Jim said. “KBLA just broadcast that tape that you and Padalecki recorded. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried to,” Jensen said. “But I didn’t want them to know that you knew. Didn’t want to put you in danger.”
Jim hmmed and Jensen imagined that he was stroking his beard, the way he did when he was thinking. “You need to bring that chopper in now, Son,” Jim said. “It’s a one of a kind, you know. A prototype.”
“Yeah,” Jensen said.
“You’ll bring it in?”
“I dunno,” Jensen said. “I’m not sure we should have this helicopter. I don’t think it’s something we should be using against our own people.”
“Jensen,” Jim said firmly. “Don’t go doing anything stupid. You bring that chopper in, Boy, you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Jensen said.
He ended the call.
Jensen flew out to the industrial side of town. It wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for; a freight train hauling iron ore and coal on the Eilber and Central private freight railroad.
He went and set Blue Thunder down on the tracks in front of the train, ignoring the train driver’s frantic sounding of the train’s horn.
Jensen climbed out of the cockpit and patted Blue Thunder’s side. “Sorry, girl,” he said. “But it’s for the best.”
He turned and walked away, down the road and back toward the city.
The explosion made him stumble. He saw the flash of fire in his peripheral vision, and felt its heat too. But Jensen kept walking, down the middle of the road, the massive fireball of destruction at his back.
Jensen had one thing and one thing only on his mind: See Jared.
--
When the black-and-white pulled up beside him, Jensen assumed the officers inside were there to arrest him.
“Jensen,” his former partner Danay Garcia called out to him through the open window. “Stop walking. We’re here to give you a lift.”
Jensen kept walking. “To a police interview room? No thanks.”
The car pulled in front of him and stopped and Caroline Chikezie got out of the passenger seat and approached him.
“We’re not here to arrest you, Jensen,” she said. Her eyes widened when she saw the wound on his arm. “You got shot!” she said.
“Gee. You think?” Jensen snarked.
“C’mon, we gotta get you to hospital.” She reached out for him and Jensen jerked away.
Caroline held her hands up. “All right, all right. I’m not touching you.”
“Jensen,” Danay said. “Jim sent us to pick you up and take you in to see Jared.”
Jensen raised his chin and tried to keep the fear from his eyes. “Is he…?”
“He’s in intensive care. He had surgery and now he’s in intensive care. Jim says they’re hopeful. Do you want to see him?”
Jensen nodded.
“That’s what we’re here for,” Danay said soothingly. “To take you to see Jared.”
“Wouldn’t hurt for you to get that arm looked at either,” said Caroline. She opened the car’s rear door. “Come on. Get in.”
Jensen stood for a moment and then slid into the back of the police car.
“You know,” said Caroline, turning to face Jensen, “I’ve always wondered how you fit in.”
“Caroline, don’t,” said Danay.
Jensen looked from one to the other and frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Air Support. Jim’s misfits. You must’ve noticed that we’ve got more than our share of African Americans, Native Americans, Hispanics and women. Jim gathers good people who got screwed over because of who they are. Because of what they are. Like Jared who’s a tall, handsome white dude-and queer as a three dollar bill. And then you had your latest series of wig outs and I thought, oh that’s it, he’s the squad’s crazy vet,” Caroline folded her arms on the top of her seat and peered at Jensen. “But that’s not it, is it?”
Jensen swallowed. “I, uh, huh, what?”
“I think…you’re like Jared, aren’t you?”
Jensen’s face began to feel hot and numb and there was a roaring noise, like the ocean, in his ears.
“Stop the car,” he said.
“It’s okay if you are,” Caroline said. “We don’t care.”
“Danay, stop the car,” Jensen said urgently.
Danay glanced at him in the rear view mirror and then pulled over.
Jensen got out, grateful that the rear door wasn’t safety locked.
They were still in the industrial area and Jensen walked quickly to an empty lot and threw up. His head spun and he squatted in the dirt and threw up again.
A moment later he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“It really is okay,” Danay said softly. “There was a lot of talk about, you know, being gay, when Jared first turned up and most people in the division don’t care. All right, you got a few who aren’t really comfortable with the lifestyle and some people won’t want to share a cup with you anymore, just in case, but we like you Jensen. You just gotta stop wigging out in the air.”
Jensen ran a hand across his lips.
“Sorry,” he said.
Danay grinned. “Hey, you didn’t barf in the car. That wins you points. C’mon. Let’s get you to the hospital.”
Chikezie apologized to Jensen the minute he got back in the car. “My momma always says I’m too pushy; too direct,” she said.
“It’s not a bad quality to have,” Jensen replied. “But sometimes people aren’t ready to…” he sighed. “Look, I’m not really comfortable talking about this kind of stuff, but, uh,” he shook his head. “I’m really not comfortable talking about this.”
“I get it,” Caroline said.
Danay nodded. “Yeah. I just want you to know that you can trust us. We got your back, partner.”
“You’re not my partner anymore,” Jensen reminded her.
“No,” Danay grinned at him in the rear view mirror. “Jared’s your partner. Maybe in more ways than one, huh?”
Jensen put his face in his hands and Danay snorted. “Oh come on,” she said. “The two of you together? It’s hot.”
“Hell, yeah,” said Chikezie. “Smokin’ hot.”
“Oh God,” Jensen muttered. “If y’all don’t shut up I’m gonna throw up again. In the car, this time.”
There was a moment of silence and then a loud peal of laughter. Jensen looked from Caroline to Danay, took in their bright, happy faces with a sense of bewildered wonder, and then shook his head. He’d always been terrified that his co-workers would find out his deep, dark secret. This right here was his worst nightmare. And truthfully? It wasn’t so bad. For the first time in a long while he felt content and stress-free. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat and told Garcia to wake him up when they got to the hospital.
--
Intensive care smelled of bleach and citrus. It was very white. And there were a lot of monitors and scary looking medical things around the bed.
Jared was on the bed. There was an oxygen mask over his face and some kind of monitoring clip was attached to his finger.
“Wash your hands,” the nurse gestured at the hand sanitizer.
Jensen washed his hands.
He’d lost Jared’s hoodie and the shirt he’d been wearing underneath that when they’d dealt with his bullet wound. Jensen was now wearing a hospital gown over the top of his jeans and his upper arm was tightly bandaged.
“His parents are flying in from Texas,” the nurse told him in a hushed voice. “I’m sure they’ll be pleased to hear that his partner sat with him until they could get here,” she pulled a stool on wheels across to the bed. “Take a seat, Officer Ackles. And let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” Jensen nodded.
She pulled the blue curtains around Jared’s bed shut and left with a smile.
Jensen wheeled the stool closer to Jared’s bed. He looked around furtively-there were gaps in the curtains after all-and then reached out tentatively and took hold of Jared’s hand; the one without the sensor clipped to it. Jared’s hand was surprisingly warm and as Jensen threaded his fingers in between Jared’s he marveled at just how big the other man’s hands were. They almost made him feel dainty in comparison.
Jensen swallowed and looked briefly up at Jared’s face. The oxygen mask obscured his mouth and nose and Jared’s eyes were closed.
“So I hear you got hit by a car,” Jensen said. “Broke one of the fingers on your left hand; broke four ribs on the left side of your body; broke your left hip; and broke your left leg in three places,” Jensen paused in his litany of Jared’s injuries. “You hit your head and bruised your heart too.”
Jensen lowered his own head and stared again at their joined hands.
“Of course, the doctor used bigger words than that, but the nurse explained what he meant, that when the car hit you, you got blunt force trauma to your chest that bruised your heart. You actually went into cardiac arrest at one point. But, uh, anyway. You’re still here and that’s good, because…I kind of want you around Jay,” he stroked his thumb against Jared’s wrist and sat in silence for a moment, just listening to the rhythmic beat of the heart monitor.
“The doctor told me you came ‘round after the surgery,” Jensen said, “but apparently they’ve got you on a high dose of morphine for the pain, so, uh…seeing as how they’ve got you on the good stuff, I guess you’re sleeping right now,” he sighed. “When I thought I might lose you, I kind of lost my mind a little. Stole Blue Thunder. Got into an aerial battle with a couple of F-16s,” Jensen laughed quietly. “It was all a little insane. But we got ’em, Jay. Danni found the tape you hid and she got it to KBLA. Lehne and Sterling have been arrested and so have a handful of cops and FBI agents. Plus some politician; that guy who seemed to be calling the shots on the tape. Pileggi or whatever,” he paused and squeezed Jared’s hand. “This is big, Jay. They’re saying it could be bigger than Watergate, even. I’ve still gotta be formally interviewed, but Jim said I could come and spend some time with you first though,” Jensen paused again. “I’m rambling. Fuck. I promised myself I wasn’t gonna chicken out,” he sighed again. “See, the thing is Jay, I wanna give it a shot. And I know you said ‘friends with benefits’, that you’d settle for that, but, uh, I was thinking maybe, we could have a, uh, you know.”
The heart rate monitor started to beep a little faster and Jensen looked up quickly.
Jared’s eyes were open. He reached up and pulled the oxygen mask from his face.
“Think the word you’re lookin’ for is ‘relationship’,” Jared slurred.
“Yeah,” Jensen agreed.
Jared beamed.
“I’ll probably be shit at it,” Jensen warned. “But I like you. And I want to try.”
Jared’s brow pulled down. “Why are you wearing a hospital gown?” he asked.
“Oh,” Jensen rubbed at his arm. “I got shot.”
Jared’s eyebrows rose and the heart monitor began to beat even faster. “You got shot!” he said, just as the nurse came bustling in and told Jensen he was going to have to leave.
“Let him stay,” Jared looked up at the nurse with a pretty epic puppy dog expression.
“It’s okay,” Jensen said, giving Jared’s hand one final squeeze and standing up. “I gotta go see Jim anyway. I have to give a statement,” he pulled a face. “And then they want me to do a press conference. God knows why.”
“You’re a hero,” Jared said softly.
Jensen rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“You’ll come back though, won’t you?” Jared said.
Jensen nodded. “Oh yeah. You let me in, Jay,” he frowned. “Or maybe I let you in. Either way, there’s no getting rid of me now.”
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