Shout My Name (at heaven's gate), j2, R, part 5/?
Title: Shout My Name (at heaven's gate)
Author: roxymissrose
Pairings/Characters: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word Count: 7198
Summary: Anno Domini 1951, fifty years after the failed Fertility experiments, the world still deals (somewhat successfully) with the mutations the experiments brought. With the advent of successful mechanical wombs, and a resurgence of female fertility, Carriers finally won full civil rights, and a new type slavery was abolished. Still, in many small towns and rural parts of America, in isolated communities, carriers were still viewed with suspicion, distaste, or horror.
This is the world Jared finds himself having to navigate.
A/N: Thank you a million times fufaraw, for helping guide this ship of mine, and keeping me from steering it right into the shore.
BOOK TWO. Chapter 5: Leaving the town
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"Doctor, This boy is not in the CDB. He's never been tested. And with the symptoms he's complaining about...well." She made a face, and the doctor ignored it to look at the minicomp she held out to him.
"Really? Well, it might have been illness that kept him from it, it's not completely unusual...or some religious objection, it happens now and again. Not a good thing, because those boys just fall through the cracks," he mused aloud, mostly to himself. "I'll talk to his…" he tabbed through the pages, poking notes with the dynapen "...his mother, about getting him tested; if there's any kind of problem, she can order his record closed to the public by the new law."
"They look like those Lord's Family people. What a pack of uneducated, backwoods dunces." The nurse rolled her eyes, oblivious to the doctor's look of distaste. "And carriers, all those supposed...men. They should have all been tested and neutered at the beginning, when it was clear that men having babies was a pure failure. That would have taken care of that problem. Smart days, when they weren’t allowed to run the streets infecting people.″
"Oh for god's sake, Jane, it’s not infection-you know better than that. As for causing problems it’s so rare that they’re fertile that it never could have become a "problem". Or for them to survive a pregnancy or birth on the rare occasion they are. The law making them wards of the state to keep them out of the general population was a waste of time and a tragedy. I-you know what? Just, please tell Mrs. Padalecki and her son that I’ll meet them in my office.″
Doctor looked on as the nurse stalked away and made a mental note to talk to the other doctors in the practice. He didn’t want anyone like that interacting with any of his patients-no one needed that kind of attitude towards differences of any kind. Being gay, but not out in general, he had a real soft spot for the poor carriers out in the world alone. Maybe it had been a hundred years since the abolishment of anti-gay laws, but the country was still working though old hatreds and misconceptions. Add the possibility that some gay men-or men at all-could be carriers, and it was too much for most people, who worried that they'd eventually be taken over by-by-some sort of woman-hating mafia. The doctor shook his head.
It was a ridiculous fear, not to mention an impossible one. For any carrier lucky enough to make it to adulthood, world domination was hardly on their agenda. And they certainly couldn’t impregnate themselves, no matter what stupid urban legends said. He sighed, and gathered a few informative pamphlets about carriers and slid them under his minicomp pad. Just in case. If they were Lord's Family people, he hoped for the kid’s sake he really did just have a stomach virus. It was really the most likely scenario.
=+=
'Mrs. Padalecki, has Jared been tested for the carrier trait? I know that most Family doesn't test, but I wondered since your group is so close to the city and is more open to other ideas-"
Jared breathed as unobtrusively as he could, and sat very, very still-a childish hope that if he was quiet enough, they'd forget he was in the room. He sat like a statue, just his eyes moving, taking in the little tiled room-jars of swabs and gauze and balls of cotton and a tiny metal suitcase sat on a long shelf next to an oddly shaped table that kept drawing his eye, in the same way an out-sized spider would. He and Mama were perched on uncomfortable plastic chairs, crammed in close together to make room for the doctor to sit on his little rolling stool.
Mama was looking about too, her expression speaking volumes about how she felt to be in this doctor's office, in the town at all. The set of her shoulders gave the feeling that any minute now she'd take flight, clawing through the doctor and straight out the window to freedom. Jared had never seen his mama look so unsettled, so off-kilter, and it frightened him.
The doctor was big-a heavy-set man who'd look comfortable among the farmers in Mountain Grove with his thick, blocky, build. He was bald, but had a full beard. Jared always imagined men grew beards to make up for hair loss. Kind eyes, though, brown, like a doe's….
He heard the doctor speak his mama's name, the edge of sharpness in his tone snapping Jared's wandering mind back to full attention. "Mrs. Padalecki?"
"I heard you. And of course there's been no testing." Mama replied in a scathing tone. "There's no need. Even if by some unlikely happening he was a-a-carrier-Family has no unnatural desires, so, no need.
"It's not just because of the possibility of a pregnancy." The doctor tried his best to look sympathetic, warm, but Jared was picking up that undertone of...frustration? Irritation? "There are other factors that make it good practice to be tested at birth: carriers are prone to weak bones, kidney and liver disorders, high blood pressure-to name just a few health problems, and if the carrier menstruates, it can be extremely painful and debilitating, leading to-"
"Ridiculous! The boy's always been healthy as a horse, and I'll thank you not to talk that way in front of my son!"
The doctor cut his eyes over to Jared and then quietly, politely asked Mama to leave the room for a few minutes, so that he could speak with her son.
"You see, Mrs. Padalecki, the law allows you freedom of religious belief, which is why you didn't have to get Jared tested. However, it does not allow for you to invade his privacy, here, now, in my office. If he chooses to, he can talk to me alone. Jared?"
Jared kept his eyes on the floor, afraid to meet Mama's steely gaze, but he nodded his head. Yes. He had to know what was wrong with him and if it could be fixed, and he didn't want his mama murdering the doctor-and him-in case there really was something horribly wrong with him.
Once Mama had gone, they sat quietly for a moment, not saying a word. Finally, the doctor cleared his throat. "Jared, this is not my first time treating a patient from the Family communities. And, just guessing here, but am I right in assuming, since you wanted to speak to me alone...you're a carrier?"
"No! I'm not, gosh, that's not my question." Jared shrugged, then horrified himself by sobbing. He choked out, "I mean, there's something's wrong, I know that. I just don't know what it is...besides, how can you tell these things? I don't know, I have no one to ask, and I don't-I don't know." He ended on a whisper as he sunk lower in his chair, wishing he could hide somewhere dark, somewhere not in the bright white and green room.
"Have you ever talked to anyone about sex, or anything along that line?"
Jared shook his head.
"Well...how about we start with an examination; it will be quick, and fairly painless. Nothing too uncomfortable, I promise."
Jared's head jerked when he heard 'fairly', and he looked at the doctor in panic. Had he sent Mama away too quickly?
"I just need to-to look you over, by that I mean, take your weight and height, your blood pressure, and maybe take a very small amount of blood for tests. I promise, tiny needle, not worse than a pinch. The exam might make you uncomfortable if you've never had one before. No?" he said at Jared's quick head shake. "Okay, so, let me explain how this works. You sit here on the table-"
Jared felt faint. He knew the doctor would take one look at his sinful body and know what Jared had done. What would the man do when he discovered that Jared was a deviant? Would he be...would he be arrested? What did Outsiders do when they discovered that boys were perverted?
The doctor prodded and poked Jared from ears to chest-when his fingers pressed into his belly and around his belly-button, there was a strange uncomfortable feeling there. The doctor said something Jared couldn't catch. He felt some more, and then stepped back. "I'd like to call the nurse back in, Jared. And whenever you have a full exam in a doctor's office, there should be a nurse."
Jared swallowed, he nodded and whispered, "Okay."
"Pamela, could you please come in?" the doctor said, speaking into a small metal box hanging on the wall.
A few seconds later a harried looking woman stepped in, tucking black hair back into a bun. Her lips were red, and her eyes were outlined in blue, Jared tried not to stare but she was really very...tall. And pretty, but in a way that reminded him of his mama. "I thought Jane was with you-oh. Got it," she said when she caught sight of Jared, hunched down as tiny as he could make himself on the table.
"Hello." She smiled, and it was as lovely a smile as that beautiful Outsider boy's. Jared fear eased somewhat-the nurse had the same kindness in her smile.
The doctor asked softly, "Can you lay back on the table, Jared? We'll need you to be fully undressed. It's really best if we look and see if everything is okay."
Jared tried to concentrate on anything except he fact he was lying naked on a table, horribly exposed to strangers. He tried to rein in his galloping breath, calm the erratic beat of his heart. The nurse murmured something meant to be soothing, he guessed, and he worked at not whimpering out loud.
"Thank you, nurse," the doctor said, and pulled on the gloves she handed him. "Now, when was the last time you had sex?"
Jared blinked. The ceiling swam into view-it was very white. The table was very hard, and his legs and face were very cold. The nurse's hand was warm on his forehead; comforting. He felt like he was coming back from far, far away.
"Okay now? You back with us? You're okay, Jared, it was just...stress, panic. Your body decided it needed a little break. But you're okay now, and it'd be best for you if we get all questions out of the way. I'm going to look at you now, Jared. If you like, the nurse can hold your hand while I do..."
"Oh. Please."
The nurse nodded, and stepped closer to the head of the table, held her hand out and let Jared clamp down, not even wincing even though Jared knew his grip was a shade too tight.
The doctor went on to explain what he'd do, as he helped Jared into position, and assured him over and over he'd seen a lot of people this way, and it was okay. That he shouldn't be embarrassed because this was his job. He'd be gentle and discrete.
The exam was as horrible as Jared expected.
The doctor took a strange, thin, tube-thing from the shelf near the table and said, "This is a probe-a tiny camera that will show me pictures as we go along. You might feel a pinch. Tell me if it hurts more than that and I'll stop immediately."
Jared just nodded, stunned into a detached, floating feeling-definitely not a good kind of feeling. The doctor seemed not to notice, he bent forward between Jared's lifted legs, Jared's view of him blocked by a sheet the nurse had settled over his knees. He felt the pinch, and then an odd sensation of something cold going into him, in that place, behind his sac. he felt another pinch and something inside him...jerked. "What-what's that, what was that?" he gasped.
"What you felt," the doctor said, "was me inserting the probe-the little camera-into your channel, which seems to be well-developed."
"I don't understand, whu-what does that mean?" Well-developed...what?
He heard the nurse whisper, "Oh dear," as she tightened her grip.
For the first time since he and his mama stepped foot in the man's office, the doctor seemed flustered. He started to speak a time or two before finally sighing gently. "Well, you've felt that small opening right behind your scrotal sac, correct?"
Jared whispered yes, feeling his whole body light up in a burning flush of shame. He prayed the man wouldn't ask him how he felt it, and why.
The doctor stood, and removed his gloves. Washed his hands-Jared got the distinct feeling he was stalling for time. "Jared, you know about the birds and bees, right?
"Yes. Of course. We live on a farm. We have foaling season, we know what a bull and a cow do. If you're asking me if I know about sex, yes." He blushed despite his strong words.
"Well, that's good. You know about males and females then, and what do you know about carriers?"
"You mean, like mothers?" He blushed again. He remembered his Mama carrying Mercy, and when the nurse came to the house and sent the men out, it wasn't a mystery what was going on.
"I mean...boys like you who are carriers." The doctor waited for Jared to respond, and when Jared sat there, stunned into silence and disbelief, he went on.
"You see, that opening you felt gives into a birth canal. Carriers may or may not develop an actual canal, they might develop a canal, but not an opening to it-there's a variety of ways a carrier can present and it looks like you're a perfect carrier, Jared." He tried to smile, but Jared let himself fall into the floaty, no-feeling place.
He was doubly cursed. His life was over.
The nurse smoothed Jared's hair back from his brow, and pressed a wad of tissues into his hand. He hadn't even realized he'd been crying. She helped Jared sit up again, and squeezed his shoulder gently. "Doctor," she said, "If you don't need me?"
The doctor dismissed the nurse, who smiled kindly at Jared before leaving the room. Jared felt warm tears running steadily down his cheeks. Her little bit of kindness had pushed him over into fulll-blown tears.
"Jared...I promise you, no matter what you've been told, being a carrier is a gift, it really is."
"I'm not a carrier, and being some kind of abomination is not a gift. It's a curse!" A gift. How in the world could it be a gift? What a stupid thing to say. It wasn't true. People like that were, they were monsters. They were evil, and repellent to the Lord. They were worse than deviant. That's not what he was.
The doctor took Jared's hand, and squeezed it gently. "Okay...well, it's a scary thing to find out if all you've ever been told was that it's a very bad thing. First, let me assure you, you can't get yourself pregnant, okay? I still hear that from people, and it's just not a possibility. But, if you've been with another boy, there's a possibility-"
Jared bent over himself, cramming a corner of the exam table sheet into his mouth to muffle the sound of his hysterical crying.
"Oh, oh, Jared, no-" the doctor quickly wrapped an arm around Jared, holding him tightly. "Are you? Have you?" He sighed, and folding Jared in both arms, he held him like he was holding one of his own children. "Jared. Have you been with a boy?"
Jared managed to lift his head to peer up at the doctor, who looked like he wanted to die. "Jared," he said, "I'm making an awful mess of this, and your mother…" the doctor shook his head. Jared knew the man was doing his best to be kind and thoughtful, but it was all just so overwhelming.
He'd came here to the city to find out if he was dying from some wasting disease, and now was learning he was a more terrible abomination than he'd thought.
"I'm sorry, Jared, but having had sex and from your description of how you've been feeling lately, well, there's a possibility you could be pregnant. We'll do some blood work, just to be certain; we'll know for sure by the end of the week. I'm so sorry, too, that considering your age, I will have to tell your mother what we suspect."
He gave Jared some pamphlets, and then said, "I know you're going to throw these away as soon as you can. I understand. But take this card, hide it, and please use it if you need to, Jared. Again, I'm sorry. I'll have your mother come in, and I'll explain as best I can to her..."
He opened the door to the exam room, and Jared's ears were roaring so he hardly heard the doctor call for the nurse, asking her to send Mrs. Padalecki back in. His head dropped back to the table, he closed his eyes and then felt nothing for what felt like a long time. When he opened his eyes again, his mother was shaking his shoulder. "Get up. Get up right now. Dress yourself."
The doctor was nowhere to be seen.
=+=
Mama said not a word the whole ride back. She was silent, stiff as a spire of stone, her eyes locked on the road ahead so fiercely Jared wondered if she actually saw a thing. Her hands were folded together so tightly her knuckles were white; Jared knew without being told not to try to take her hand. Being rejected would shatter him like glass. So he sat motionless as well, and let the roar of the bus wash over him until it set his head to pounding. The rapid-fire speech of the Outsiders beat against his ears so that he was deaf, and the sun burned through the windshield and set his eyes to watering. Tears of pain, that's all they were.
He didn't deserve anything else.
The walk from the bus stop back to their yard was a nightmare. Each footstep was one step closer to the end of his life as it had been. Each crunch of the cinders under his feet as they walked closer to home underscored his new life.
Freak-monster-freak-monster-freak-monster He was all the bad things rolled into one: a catamite and an abomination. He was too afraid to wonder what happened next.
He looked over their land, at the house he'd been born in, the orchard, the coops and pens, the barn. The fields of beans and peppers and corn, the little pond he and Mercy still played in from time to time...and tried to imagine living off to the side of all that; an imposition, a stranger, an outcast, a ghost. Infected with monstrous desires, infected with a parasite.
At least he wouldn't have to marry Clarice, he thought, and before he could smother it, a weak, shaky laugh tumbled out.
His mother whipped towards him, her eyes blazing and her mouth a twisted slash of anger. "You dare?" she nearly shouted, and raised her hand-dropping it quickly. "Get in the house, and go to your room."
Jared ran into the house and dashed up the stairs to the attic.
She had been about to hit him. His mama had raised her hand to strike him….
He threw himself on his bed, curled up and hoping against hope that Jesse wouldn't be heading in soon. He was visiting his soon-to-be fiancée-Jared jerked upright with a gasp, and bit at his lip. What if...what if he'd ruined everything for Jesse too? What if his fiancée's family decided not to have anything to do with his family, blamed the Padalecki family for the youngest son's failings?
Or...oh no. What if Jesse blamed himself for what was happening?
All his frantic, horrified musing couldn't begin to be as horrific as what actually happened to him that night.
=+=
"Jared!" His daddy's voice rang out, calling him to dinner in a way that left no wiggle room; Jared figured it be a lecture or-or worse, if he claimed to be ill, or too tired to come down. He stepped slowly down the stairs, quietly setting his foot on each tread like it would be his last step in life.
He nearly tip-toed into a dead silent kitchen, and came to a wobbly stop when he saw his family.
The electricity shone bright light from the overhead bulb over the table top. Food was already on the table; the plates and glasses set out. A milk crock stood next to the roasting pan, little beads of water rolling down the swell of its sides. There was a basket of Mama's special rolls, crunchy outsides and insides light and fluffy as clouds. They sat next to the butter crock, a silver spoon standing in it, ready to slather the rolls in sweet, golden goodness. It was good food; food he always believed that only his mama could make.
Jared stood in the doorway, looking at his family at dinner, the way they'd been for as long as he could remember, before his eyes starting picking out odd little things. There were only four plates and glasses on the table. There was a plate on the stove, already filled, barely, with food. A glass of water stood nearby.
Jesse and Mercy and Mama had their chairs all on one side of the table, their eyes firmly locked on the table top. There was an unoccupied space at the head of the table-Daddy's-and a place on the empty, opposite side. One chair.
Jesse was red-faced, and appeared to be furious, Mercy was pale, her face streaked with tears and her lip caught between her teeth, something Jared and his sister both did under times of stress. And Mama….Mama looked regal, and majestic, and cold as a glacier.
There was a small sound, and Jared turned towards it, catching his daddy's eyes. Daddy looked at him like he was-was-something dredged up out of an outhouse pit. He opened his mouth once or twice, before finally breaking the silence.
"This-this - we will not have words here in this house. The Elders see you. It's they who'll decide what to do with you. Until they do, you are not a person in this house-your name's not to be spoken here again, in the will of the Lord. You'll keep to yourself. We will not tolerate you infecting your sister, your brother, with this intolerable wickedness. This disgusting perversion. You go against the will of the Lord, and there are consequences for that, man."
Jared kept silent, though tears streamed down his face so fast and furious he felt like he was drowning in them. He let them come; he was afraid to move to wipe his face.
Jesse looked up, his mouth twisted, the look in his eyes stabbing right through Jared. He turned towards Daddy. "Where do you want me to sleep?" he asked.
"Well, in your room, of course," Daddy said, and turning back to Jared, said, "You will sleep in the horse stall, where the foal was."
"Was?" Jared asked. "Where's Mercury--"
"Dudek will take the horse. There's no one here to take care of it. Horses go to sons. You go on, take the plate my wife made up for you, and sit in the chair set aside for you."
Jared sat still, eyes pinned to his hands, and nothing in the world could have prepared him for how it actually felt to be cast out. He was at the kitchen table he'd eaten his meals at all his life, and now he didn't belong. But Family was merciful, as per the word of the Lord, and he would still have a seat, still have a place to sleep. He'd still be fed, and still be sheltered-until the Elders decided how his fate would go. Whether he was to be shunned for life, or shunned for eternity, which meant sentenced to having no place, no name, no life.
That night, he lay in the empty stall where Merc had been. Gone now, sold away to Dudek. Jared was grateful that at least he knew where Mercury was. That his foal would be safe and well cared for, because Dudek he knew was a good man. His breath shuddered in and out, shaking his chest as he breathed. He hoped someone in the Dudek family would love Mercury the same way he had. Jared drew the back of his hand across his face, and tried to sleep, curling up into the straw. He had a basket in the stall next to him-clothing folded neatly, shoes under them. There was a blanket, and his toothbrush, and toothpowder. His comb, a jacket, crammed into that basket. Everything but his sketchpad, the pencils, he'd bought for himself. His books, Robinson Crusoe, The Story of King Arthur and His Knights were missing-they'd only left him the basics. He wondered sadly what happened to his things. He thought how sad, how miserable, how pitiful. He took a deep, deep breath, let it out.
Holerah and-and-damn it.
He rolled over and punched himself violently in the stomach, smashing his fist into his gut over and over, tears streaming down his face. The corner of his blanket shoved into his mouth let him scream without being heard, and he screamed and screamed into the rough fabric. He hated that boy. Riley. Riley, Riley, damned Riley, who most likely had cursed him to the grave and beyond. And what if he survived this parasite inside him? What if it survived? What was he going to do? If he wasn't shunned for eternity, what would he do with the walking, breathing, moving sign of his sin?
Jared leaped up from the straw, throwing himself backwards into the stable wall, hitting the wall so hard, stars exploded in his head. "Why?" he cried out. "Why, why, why is this happening to me?"
=+=
It wasn't as cold in the barn as he'd expected it to be. Still, there was a heavy kind of coldness seeping into his heart, his blood, every day that he woke up in that stable. Coldness crept in and notched a bit of him away, day by day, as he lay waiting for the word of the Elders to smash his world to pieces.
Weak sunlight filtered through the vent at the other end of the loft. He was curled up under one of the worn blankets he'd found under some boxes of junk; felt sort of idly sad that he hadn't died during the night. But no, it was morning, and if he made tracks, he'd be able to avoid running into anyone of the family. He scurried down the ladder-he'd stopped sleeping in Merc's stall when his brother had ignored him too many times. The one time Jared hadn't been able to stand it anymore and reached out to touch him, he'd made a noise of such disgust that Jared had found himself up in the rafters before he'd known it, throwing up into a bucket.
On the ground floor again, he peeked around, just to make doubly sure no one was there. While the family seemed to very easily ignore him, it was killing Jared to be ignored. To have to walk softly, and meet no one's eye, and avoid touching them.
Just like he'd hoped, there was a bowl of oatmeal under the workbench he usually found his food place. It was congealed from the cold, and this was the thing that saddened him most-not a lick of honey or a dusting of sugar on it at all. But, it was filling at least-the bowl was full. He took it back up to the loft with him. He could have eaten in the kitchen, he knew there was always an empty chair set aside for him, but he stopped going to meals. It was too painful.
When he'd first stopped going to meals, there'd been a couple of days that he hadn't eaten anything, but it wasn't too long before he woke up to a smell that had dragged him out of his nest of self-pity. He'd found a small pot of soup under a workbench. To this day he still had no idea who brought the food for him, but it appeared every day at the same time, breakfast, and dinner, or thereabouts. Small mercies, he thought. Somebody loved him still. Maybe. Or maybe just didn't want him to die before the Elders passed sentence on him. At any rate, whether they intended it or not, it gave him strength, and set his mind to thinking about something he'd thought was impossible. His future.
He ate his oatmeal, and cleaned his nest-emptying the two buckets that did duty as his bathroom, and his source of fresh water. He pumped fresh water into one, filling it before carrying it up to the loft, came back down and cleaned, put water and feed out for Beau, knowing no one would come into the barn at this time of day. He picked up odds and ends, and did what he could to be at least somewhat useful before hiding out again in the loft.
Up in the loft, he sat behind a wall made of a hay bales and few boxes of things his mama had saved for no reason he could figure, and spent some time writing in the back of an old, moldering cookbook he'd found in one box. It was ancient, the back cracked and rotting, but he'd found a pencil tucked in the spine, so, there was a bit of luck. He skipped past the page he'd made a calendar on, and began to write.
=+=
He was just sitting back, rereading a short poem he'd written, plucking at the words and trying to refit them to make them right, when the quiet was split by loud voices-laughter-coming from the house. The sound drew him, creeping carefully to stare out the window. The flurry of activity sent him to check his makeshift calendar, and Jared realized that it was New Year's Eve. That meant a big dinner, with Jesse's fiancée and her family, no doubt. Jared hunkered down deeper into his nest. There was noise on the barn floor, and he caught snatches of conversation, and realized that they were all of them going to Jesse's fiancée's home to welcome the new year in.
Once he got past the sudden, sharp, stab of loneliness, Jared realized that he'd actually been presented with an opportunity. The family was out. And darn it-damn it-he was not going to lay back and die for them. For anyone. He was going to live, whatever it took.
Realistically, he had no home or place in the community anymore, that was for sure. He was positive that the Elders would vote to exile him for eternity, being what he was, and this cold, dry winter would suck the life out of him if he wasn't prepared.
So.
He thought about what he would need to survive. The obvious, of course-a way to keep warm, something to eat. A direction to head in. He'd need that one way or another, whether they forced him out, or he chose to leave. He needed to make his own way, and that meant making it in one piece to the Outside. He shuddered, and bile rose in his throat. Riley was the Outside...cold and heartless, taking without thought. But...Mountain Grove was just as heartless, even if they were justified, he supposed. He reminded himself that the Outside was also those nice boys who worked on the new school. That dark-skinned boy with the warm eyes and the sweet smile...and that one boy, that Jack, who'd seemed to care that something bad had happened to Jared. There had to be some places in the city that had people like that, and somewhere he could be safe in.
Well, he'd find out soon enough, because today, at this start of the new year, Jared was choosing a new life. What he was going to do about the parasite, he'd decide later. Holerah, the damn thing would probably kill him before long anyway, according to the pamphlets the doctor had given him.
=+=
He slipped into the house and did a quick search of his former room. There was nothing of his to be seen, but...he got on his knees and stuck his head under the bed he used to sleep in, and there, crumpled into a back corner and obviously overlooked, was an old knapsack. He smiled, and hooked a strap to pull it out. He flipped open the top, and luck was on his side-laying at the bottom was the baggy, over-sized knit hat-this was the knapsack they'd taken on the Runround. He shivered, and forced himself past the blast of nausea thinking about the Runround always brought. He fished around inside the knapsack. Besides the hat, there was still a pocket knife he'd left inside it, a matchcase, some socks, and a book. Wonderful!
He searched for his other books, his sketch tablets, pencils, and wasn't surprised to find nothing. Just as he thought, his belongings were all gone. Which meant he could search for them, but if he found them and took anything, they'd know he'd been in the house. They'd probably know anyway. Jared decided to give them something to find-he went into the root cellar and stole jars of fruit, vegetables, whatever he could stuff in the pack. He was wearing boots, and his scarf and mittens. Somewhere in the barn, he'd stacked his skis last year. Maybe he could take them as well...he thought about it and decided no. He needed to be able to hide this stuff.
Back in the barn, he searched around on the floor of Merc's stall, and found what he was looking for-a loose board that opened into a little pit he'd dug in the dirt beneath the floor, a long time ago when he was just a silly, dream-filled kid. He'd had pirates and hidden treasure on his mind then, and thrilled that he'd had his very own secret treasure chest. Life had been so simple then...Jared ruthlessly squashed down useless thoughts, and felt around in the dirt until his fingers bumped against something solid. He came up with a mason jar filled with first whatever pennies he'd found, and then as he'd grown, the bit of money he made helping out Dudek and other farmers in the harvest. It probably wasn't much, but he'd bet he had at least enough for a bus ticket.
He held the jar up and shook the few bills and coins around and frowned. With some luck, anyway. He rolled up one of the moth-eaten blankets, and tied it to the knapsack. He imagined it wouldn't take him more than two or three days, all told, so besides a sweater, a pair of pants, and a few undershirts, he decided against taking any other clothes. When he made his way to the city, he'd get a job, and buy his own things. He was a hard worker, and smart; someone would want him for sure.
The next day, he headed out early, taking the road he figured his daddy would most likely take. Being cut off from Family would be a secret thing, not meant to have an audience, and Jared knew his daddy-he wasn't going to drop him at the bus stop, that was for sure. No, he'd take Jared way out past the last bit of pasture they owned, and leave him on the edge of the wood, where no one could see.
Jared grabbed the knapsack, and his mason jar treasure chest and set out for the edge of the wood. He hiked inwards for a while, until the sun was high in the sky, and found a crooked tree with widespread branches. He thought he'd recognize it, apart from the rest, and hid his pack and jar there under fallen leaves. He looked up at the sky with a frown. He hoped against hope it wouldn't snow. Heck-he'd been lucky so far. He'd pray for more, but he was afraid he'd lost that right.
He trudged out of the wood, much slower than he'd headed into it, and set out for the house, determined to ask for the things of his they'd hidden from him.
His sister was on the steps when he came through the gate at the side of the yard, and he hesitated. But he missed her so terribly, it made his heart skip a beat to see her, so he kept on walking. Near the porch, he stopped and worked up a smile, trying to hide the way his lips wanted to wobble. "Mer-"
"Abomination," she hissed and jumped up, whisked away into the kitchen, slamming the door shut in his face.
Jared froze, staring at the spot on the steps where she'd been. He felt as if something inside him had snapped, and if he moved, he'd spill broken pieces of himself everywhere. He was still standing there when his daddy came out and asked, "What is it you want, man? Why are you here? I'll come to get you when the verdict is read."
"I want my books. I bought them with my own money-my tablets and pencils, too."
His daddy went bright red, his mouth worked a moment before he hissed, "Says the devil's servant. We've fed you out of the generosity of our hearts, gave you a place to sleep, and you dare ta demand a thing from me?"
"It's not yours! It's mine-I bought it!"
"We'll see about that," his daddy said, and for a second time, the door was shut on him.
Jared went out that evening, walked right into their small town, marking how all the family shied away from him, as if he might reach out and infect them with his deviancy and did his best to give off the air that he didn't care. He walked right into into their little general store , ignoring the wave of whispering, like a flash-flood in a dry river bed.
He strolled up and down the aisles, picking up a bag of candy, a little sewing kit, and a little Barton bag, the bright red cross on it sort of incongruously cheerful, considering. It would come in handy in case he needed to clean up a cut or scrape. He hoped sincerely that'd be all he had to worry about.
He walked up to the counter and of course he was ignored, when he wasn't hissed at, or had people making faces at him like they'd just stepped into a steaming cow patty. He made a production of leaving money on the counter-Lord forbid he be accused of stealing as well as being an abomination-and walked out of the store.
He felt some extra pleasure enjoying his candy that evening in his bed of straw and blankets, and wondered if being an abomination was giving him a skewed sense of humor as well. He sucked on a ginger candy, reflecting, and decided that actually being an abomination hadn't affected his sense of humor much at all. It had always been skewed. So, he thought, guess I've always been walking on a twisted path.
He should feel awful about it, but tonight, he just felt...kind of, just a little bit, triumphant. He would survive, and when they kicked him out, he was not going to cry, not one lousy tear.
=+=
One day went past, then another, and then came a morning he woke to the smell of smoke. He watched his daddy make a fire, and one by one, throw all the things that had brought him so much joy into it. Jared waited for grief to fill him, for sadness, for anger, but he felt nothing. It was as if the man threw a stranger's things into the eager flames. Daddy looked up, and Jared knew. This was it.
He took his time. Let the man come and drag him down the ladder if he wanted. He put a sweater on over his shirt, and buttoned his coat over it. He wrapped the red scarf a few times around his neck, topped it off with the baggy hat, and shoved his lumpy mittens into his pockets-the last of the things that were his alone.
He looked around the loft, at the pile of hay that had been his bed, and the buckets that had been his bathroom and kitchen and the threadbare blankets that had kept him warm in the night, and laughed, and laughed, until his sides ached and his eyes watered. He thought about it, he really did, and knew it was stupid and petty, but-"holerah!" He swung his foot back, and kicked the bucket of piss over before climbing down the stairs and heading out to the yard.
The wagon was there, with the tailgate down. No one was in the yard, no one was at the windows.
Daddy looked sort of sideways to Jared, not meeting his eyes, as he said, "On this morning my son, Jared Tytus Padalecki, died. Let no one speak his name. Let no one hear his name. In this world, or the next."
Jared felt faint-everything spun around him, everything felt far away and too close all at once. His stomach twisted, but through an act of sheer will, he kept the contents down, and his eyes open, and didn't buckle, not for a second
After having pronounced the Elder's verdict, Daddy was was silent, just climbing up into the wagon seat and waiting until Jared's weight made the rear dip a bit. He clucked at the horses, and the wagon lurched. They rolled up the drive and Jared sunk his face into his hands. He'd swore that he wouldn't waste a tear on this place and their cruel ways, but he couldn't help it. He watched the place he'd been born in between spread fingers, watched it get smaller and smaller.
The land passed him by.
Minutes later the wagon slowed, about to come to a stop, but Jared jumped off before it stilled completely and walked straight off into the woods, tears washing his face, drying to freezing tracks on his skin, but he never looked back and he never said a word, or gave the man who shoved him out of his life a second look.
=+=
6
Author: roxymissrose
Pairings/Characters: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word Count: 7198
Summary: Anno Domini 1951, fifty years after the failed Fertility experiments, the world still deals (somewhat successfully) with the mutations the experiments brought. With the advent of successful mechanical wombs, and a resurgence of female fertility, Carriers finally won full civil rights, and a new type slavery was abolished. Still, in many small towns and rural parts of America, in isolated communities, carriers were still viewed with suspicion, distaste, or horror.
This is the world Jared finds himself having to navigate.
A/N: Thank you a million times fufaraw, for helping guide this ship of mine, and keeping me from steering it right into the shore.
BOOK TWO. Chapter 5: Leaving the town
=+=
"Doctor, This boy is not in the CDB. He's never been tested. And with the symptoms he's complaining about...well." She made a face, and the doctor ignored it to look at the minicomp she held out to him.
"Really? Well, it might have been illness that kept him from it, it's not completely unusual...or some religious objection, it happens now and again. Not a good thing, because those boys just fall through the cracks," he mused aloud, mostly to himself. "I'll talk to his…" he tabbed through the pages, poking notes with the dynapen "...his mother, about getting him tested; if there's any kind of problem, she can order his record closed to the public by the new law."
"They look like those Lord's Family people. What a pack of uneducated, backwoods dunces." The nurse rolled her eyes, oblivious to the doctor's look of distaste. "And carriers, all those supposed...men. They should have all been tested and neutered at the beginning, when it was clear that men having babies was a pure failure. That would have taken care of that problem. Smart days, when they weren’t allowed to run the streets infecting people.″
"Oh for god's sake, Jane, it’s not infection-you know better than that. As for causing problems it’s so rare that they’re fertile that it never could have become a "problem". Or for them to survive a pregnancy or birth on the rare occasion they are. The law making them wards of the state to keep them out of the general population was a waste of time and a tragedy. I-you know what? Just, please tell Mrs. Padalecki and her son that I’ll meet them in my office.″
Doctor looked on as the nurse stalked away and made a mental note to talk to the other doctors in the practice. He didn’t want anyone like that interacting with any of his patients-no one needed that kind of attitude towards differences of any kind. Being gay, but not out in general, he had a real soft spot for the poor carriers out in the world alone. Maybe it had been a hundred years since the abolishment of anti-gay laws, but the country was still working though old hatreds and misconceptions. Add the possibility that some gay men-or men at all-could be carriers, and it was too much for most people, who worried that they'd eventually be taken over by-by-some sort of woman-hating mafia. The doctor shook his head.
It was a ridiculous fear, not to mention an impossible one. For any carrier lucky enough to make it to adulthood, world domination was hardly on their agenda. And they certainly couldn’t impregnate themselves, no matter what stupid urban legends said. He sighed, and gathered a few informative pamphlets about carriers and slid them under his minicomp pad. Just in case. If they were Lord's Family people, he hoped for the kid’s sake he really did just have a stomach virus. It was really the most likely scenario.
=+=
'Mrs. Padalecki, has Jared been tested for the carrier trait? I know that most Family doesn't test, but I wondered since your group is so close to the city and is more open to other ideas-"
Jared breathed as unobtrusively as he could, and sat very, very still-a childish hope that if he was quiet enough, they'd forget he was in the room. He sat like a statue, just his eyes moving, taking in the little tiled room-jars of swabs and gauze and balls of cotton and a tiny metal suitcase sat on a long shelf next to an oddly shaped table that kept drawing his eye, in the same way an out-sized spider would. He and Mama were perched on uncomfortable plastic chairs, crammed in close together to make room for the doctor to sit on his little rolling stool.
Mama was looking about too, her expression speaking volumes about how she felt to be in this doctor's office, in the town at all. The set of her shoulders gave the feeling that any minute now she'd take flight, clawing through the doctor and straight out the window to freedom. Jared had never seen his mama look so unsettled, so off-kilter, and it frightened him.
The doctor was big-a heavy-set man who'd look comfortable among the farmers in Mountain Grove with his thick, blocky, build. He was bald, but had a full beard. Jared always imagined men grew beards to make up for hair loss. Kind eyes, though, brown, like a doe's….
He heard the doctor speak his mama's name, the edge of sharpness in his tone snapping Jared's wandering mind back to full attention. "Mrs. Padalecki?"
"I heard you. And of course there's been no testing." Mama replied in a scathing tone. "There's no need. Even if by some unlikely happening he was a-a-carrier-Family has no unnatural desires, so, no need.
"It's not just because of the possibility of a pregnancy." The doctor tried his best to look sympathetic, warm, but Jared was picking up that undertone of...frustration? Irritation? "There are other factors that make it good practice to be tested at birth: carriers are prone to weak bones, kidney and liver disorders, high blood pressure-to name just a few health problems, and if the carrier menstruates, it can be extremely painful and debilitating, leading to-"
"Ridiculous! The boy's always been healthy as a horse, and I'll thank you not to talk that way in front of my son!"
The doctor cut his eyes over to Jared and then quietly, politely asked Mama to leave the room for a few minutes, so that he could speak with her son.
"You see, Mrs. Padalecki, the law allows you freedom of religious belief, which is why you didn't have to get Jared tested. However, it does not allow for you to invade his privacy, here, now, in my office. If he chooses to, he can talk to me alone. Jared?"
Jared kept his eyes on the floor, afraid to meet Mama's steely gaze, but he nodded his head. Yes. He had to know what was wrong with him and if it could be fixed, and he didn't want his mama murdering the doctor-and him-in case there really was something horribly wrong with him.
Once Mama had gone, they sat quietly for a moment, not saying a word. Finally, the doctor cleared his throat. "Jared, this is not my first time treating a patient from the Family communities. And, just guessing here, but am I right in assuming, since you wanted to speak to me alone...you're a carrier?"
"No! I'm not, gosh, that's not my question." Jared shrugged, then horrified himself by sobbing. He choked out, "I mean, there's something's wrong, I know that. I just don't know what it is...besides, how can you tell these things? I don't know, I have no one to ask, and I don't-I don't know." He ended on a whisper as he sunk lower in his chair, wishing he could hide somewhere dark, somewhere not in the bright white and green room.
"Have you ever talked to anyone about sex, or anything along that line?"
Jared shook his head.
"Well...how about we start with an examination; it will be quick, and fairly painless. Nothing too uncomfortable, I promise."
Jared's head jerked when he heard 'fairly', and he looked at the doctor in panic. Had he sent Mama away too quickly?
"I just need to-to look you over, by that I mean, take your weight and height, your blood pressure, and maybe take a very small amount of blood for tests. I promise, tiny needle, not worse than a pinch. The exam might make you uncomfortable if you've never had one before. No?" he said at Jared's quick head shake. "Okay, so, let me explain how this works. You sit here on the table-"
Jared felt faint. He knew the doctor would take one look at his sinful body and know what Jared had done. What would the man do when he discovered that Jared was a deviant? Would he be...would he be arrested? What did Outsiders do when they discovered that boys were perverted?
The doctor prodded and poked Jared from ears to chest-when his fingers pressed into his belly and around his belly-button, there was a strange uncomfortable feeling there. The doctor said something Jared couldn't catch. He felt some more, and then stepped back. "I'd like to call the nurse back in, Jared. And whenever you have a full exam in a doctor's office, there should be a nurse."
Jared swallowed, he nodded and whispered, "Okay."
"Pamela, could you please come in?" the doctor said, speaking into a small metal box hanging on the wall.
A few seconds later a harried looking woman stepped in, tucking black hair back into a bun. Her lips were red, and her eyes were outlined in blue, Jared tried not to stare but she was really very...tall. And pretty, but in a way that reminded him of his mama. "I thought Jane was with you-oh. Got it," she said when she caught sight of Jared, hunched down as tiny as he could make himself on the table.
"Hello." She smiled, and it was as lovely a smile as that beautiful Outsider boy's. Jared fear eased somewhat-the nurse had the same kindness in her smile.
The doctor asked softly, "Can you lay back on the table, Jared? We'll need you to be fully undressed. It's really best if we look and see if everything is okay."
Jared tried to concentrate on anything except he fact he was lying naked on a table, horribly exposed to strangers. He tried to rein in his galloping breath, calm the erratic beat of his heart. The nurse murmured something meant to be soothing, he guessed, and he worked at not whimpering out loud.
"Thank you, nurse," the doctor said, and pulled on the gloves she handed him. "Now, when was the last time you had sex?"
Jared blinked. The ceiling swam into view-it was very white. The table was very hard, and his legs and face were very cold. The nurse's hand was warm on his forehead; comforting. He felt like he was coming back from far, far away.
"Okay now? You back with us? You're okay, Jared, it was just...stress, panic. Your body decided it needed a little break. But you're okay now, and it'd be best for you if we get all questions out of the way. I'm going to look at you now, Jared. If you like, the nurse can hold your hand while I do..."
"Oh. Please."
The nurse nodded, and stepped closer to the head of the table, held her hand out and let Jared clamp down, not even wincing even though Jared knew his grip was a shade too tight.
The doctor went on to explain what he'd do, as he helped Jared into position, and assured him over and over he'd seen a lot of people this way, and it was okay. That he shouldn't be embarrassed because this was his job. He'd be gentle and discrete.
The exam was as horrible as Jared expected.
The doctor took a strange, thin, tube-thing from the shelf near the table and said, "This is a probe-a tiny camera that will show me pictures as we go along. You might feel a pinch. Tell me if it hurts more than that and I'll stop immediately."
Jared just nodded, stunned into a detached, floating feeling-definitely not a good kind of feeling. The doctor seemed not to notice, he bent forward between Jared's lifted legs, Jared's view of him blocked by a sheet the nurse had settled over his knees. He felt the pinch, and then an odd sensation of something cold going into him, in that place, behind his sac. he felt another pinch and something inside him...jerked. "What-what's that, what was that?" he gasped.
"What you felt," the doctor said, "was me inserting the probe-the little camera-into your channel, which seems to be well-developed."
"I don't understand, whu-what does that mean?" Well-developed...what?
He heard the nurse whisper, "Oh dear," as she tightened her grip.
For the first time since he and his mama stepped foot in the man's office, the doctor seemed flustered. He started to speak a time or two before finally sighing gently. "Well, you've felt that small opening right behind your scrotal sac, correct?"
Jared whispered yes, feeling his whole body light up in a burning flush of shame. He prayed the man wouldn't ask him how he felt it, and why.
The doctor stood, and removed his gloves. Washed his hands-Jared got the distinct feeling he was stalling for time. "Jared, you know about the birds and bees, right?
"Yes. Of course. We live on a farm. We have foaling season, we know what a bull and a cow do. If you're asking me if I know about sex, yes." He blushed despite his strong words.
"Well, that's good. You know about males and females then, and what do you know about carriers?"
"You mean, like mothers?" He blushed again. He remembered his Mama carrying Mercy, and when the nurse came to the house and sent the men out, it wasn't a mystery what was going on.
"I mean...boys like you who are carriers." The doctor waited for Jared to respond, and when Jared sat there, stunned into silence and disbelief, he went on.
"You see, that opening you felt gives into a birth canal. Carriers may or may not develop an actual canal, they might develop a canal, but not an opening to it-there's a variety of ways a carrier can present and it looks like you're a perfect carrier, Jared." He tried to smile, but Jared let himself fall into the floaty, no-feeling place.
He was doubly cursed. His life was over.
The nurse smoothed Jared's hair back from his brow, and pressed a wad of tissues into his hand. He hadn't even realized he'd been crying. She helped Jared sit up again, and squeezed his shoulder gently. "Doctor," she said, "If you don't need me?"
The doctor dismissed the nurse, who smiled kindly at Jared before leaving the room. Jared felt warm tears running steadily down his cheeks. Her little bit of kindness had pushed him over into fulll-blown tears.
"Jared...I promise you, no matter what you've been told, being a carrier is a gift, it really is."
"I'm not a carrier, and being some kind of abomination is not a gift. It's a curse!" A gift. How in the world could it be a gift? What a stupid thing to say. It wasn't true. People like that were, they were monsters. They were evil, and repellent to the Lord. They were worse than deviant. That's not what he was.
The doctor took Jared's hand, and squeezed it gently. "Okay...well, it's a scary thing to find out if all you've ever been told was that it's a very bad thing. First, let me assure you, you can't get yourself pregnant, okay? I still hear that from people, and it's just not a possibility. But, if you've been with another boy, there's a possibility-"
Jared bent over himself, cramming a corner of the exam table sheet into his mouth to muffle the sound of his hysterical crying.
"Oh, oh, Jared, no-" the doctor quickly wrapped an arm around Jared, holding him tightly. "Are you? Have you?" He sighed, and folding Jared in both arms, he held him like he was holding one of his own children. "Jared. Have you been with a boy?"
Jared managed to lift his head to peer up at the doctor, who looked like he wanted to die. "Jared," he said, "I'm making an awful mess of this, and your mother…" the doctor shook his head. Jared knew the man was doing his best to be kind and thoughtful, but it was all just so overwhelming.
He'd came here to the city to find out if he was dying from some wasting disease, and now was learning he was a more terrible abomination than he'd thought.
"I'm sorry, Jared, but having had sex and from your description of how you've been feeling lately, well, there's a possibility you could be pregnant. We'll do some blood work, just to be certain; we'll know for sure by the end of the week. I'm so sorry, too, that considering your age, I will have to tell your mother what we suspect."
He gave Jared some pamphlets, and then said, "I know you're going to throw these away as soon as you can. I understand. But take this card, hide it, and please use it if you need to, Jared. Again, I'm sorry. I'll have your mother come in, and I'll explain as best I can to her..."
He opened the door to the exam room, and Jared's ears were roaring so he hardly heard the doctor call for the nurse, asking her to send Mrs. Padalecki back in. His head dropped back to the table, he closed his eyes and then felt nothing for what felt like a long time. When he opened his eyes again, his mother was shaking his shoulder. "Get up. Get up right now. Dress yourself."
The doctor was nowhere to be seen.
=+=
Mama said not a word the whole ride back. She was silent, stiff as a spire of stone, her eyes locked on the road ahead so fiercely Jared wondered if she actually saw a thing. Her hands were folded together so tightly her knuckles were white; Jared knew without being told not to try to take her hand. Being rejected would shatter him like glass. So he sat motionless as well, and let the roar of the bus wash over him until it set his head to pounding. The rapid-fire speech of the Outsiders beat against his ears so that he was deaf, and the sun burned through the windshield and set his eyes to watering. Tears of pain, that's all they were.
He didn't deserve anything else.
The walk from the bus stop back to their yard was a nightmare. Each footstep was one step closer to the end of his life as it had been. Each crunch of the cinders under his feet as they walked closer to home underscored his new life.
Freak-monster-freak-monster-freak-monster He was all the bad things rolled into one: a catamite and an abomination. He was too afraid to wonder what happened next.
He looked over their land, at the house he'd been born in, the orchard, the coops and pens, the barn. The fields of beans and peppers and corn, the little pond he and Mercy still played in from time to time...and tried to imagine living off to the side of all that; an imposition, a stranger, an outcast, a ghost. Infected with monstrous desires, infected with a parasite.
At least he wouldn't have to marry Clarice, he thought, and before he could smother it, a weak, shaky laugh tumbled out.
His mother whipped towards him, her eyes blazing and her mouth a twisted slash of anger. "You dare?" she nearly shouted, and raised her hand-dropping it quickly. "Get in the house, and go to your room."
Jared ran into the house and dashed up the stairs to the attic.
She had been about to hit him. His mama had raised her hand to strike him….
He threw himself on his bed, curled up and hoping against hope that Jesse wouldn't be heading in soon. He was visiting his soon-to-be fiancée-Jared jerked upright with a gasp, and bit at his lip. What if...what if he'd ruined everything for Jesse too? What if his fiancée's family decided not to have anything to do with his family, blamed the Padalecki family for the youngest son's failings?
Or...oh no. What if Jesse blamed himself for what was happening?
All his frantic, horrified musing couldn't begin to be as horrific as what actually happened to him that night.
=+=
"Jared!" His daddy's voice rang out, calling him to dinner in a way that left no wiggle room; Jared figured it be a lecture or-or worse, if he claimed to be ill, or too tired to come down. He stepped slowly down the stairs, quietly setting his foot on each tread like it would be his last step in life.
He nearly tip-toed into a dead silent kitchen, and came to a wobbly stop when he saw his family.
The electricity shone bright light from the overhead bulb over the table top. Food was already on the table; the plates and glasses set out. A milk crock stood next to the roasting pan, little beads of water rolling down the swell of its sides. There was a basket of Mama's special rolls, crunchy outsides and insides light and fluffy as clouds. They sat next to the butter crock, a silver spoon standing in it, ready to slather the rolls in sweet, golden goodness. It was good food; food he always believed that only his mama could make.
Jared stood in the doorway, looking at his family at dinner, the way they'd been for as long as he could remember, before his eyes starting picking out odd little things. There were only four plates and glasses on the table. There was a plate on the stove, already filled, barely, with food. A glass of water stood nearby.
Jesse and Mercy and Mama had their chairs all on one side of the table, their eyes firmly locked on the table top. There was an unoccupied space at the head of the table-Daddy's-and a place on the empty, opposite side. One chair.
Jesse was red-faced, and appeared to be furious, Mercy was pale, her face streaked with tears and her lip caught between her teeth, something Jared and his sister both did under times of stress. And Mama….Mama looked regal, and majestic, and cold as a glacier.
There was a small sound, and Jared turned towards it, catching his daddy's eyes. Daddy looked at him like he was-was-something dredged up out of an outhouse pit. He opened his mouth once or twice, before finally breaking the silence.
"This-this - we will not have words here in this house. The Elders see you. It's they who'll decide what to do with you. Until they do, you are not a person in this house-your name's not to be spoken here again, in the will of the Lord. You'll keep to yourself. We will not tolerate you infecting your sister, your brother, with this intolerable wickedness. This disgusting perversion. You go against the will of the Lord, and there are consequences for that, man."
Jared kept silent, though tears streamed down his face so fast and furious he felt like he was drowning in them. He let them come; he was afraid to move to wipe his face.
Jesse looked up, his mouth twisted, the look in his eyes stabbing right through Jared. He turned towards Daddy. "Where do you want me to sleep?" he asked.
"Well, in your room, of course," Daddy said, and turning back to Jared, said, "You will sleep in the horse stall, where the foal was."
"Was?" Jared asked. "Where's Mercury--"
"Dudek will take the horse. There's no one here to take care of it. Horses go to sons. You go on, take the plate my wife made up for you, and sit in the chair set aside for you."
Jared sat still, eyes pinned to his hands, and nothing in the world could have prepared him for how it actually felt to be cast out. He was at the kitchen table he'd eaten his meals at all his life, and now he didn't belong. But Family was merciful, as per the word of the Lord, and he would still have a seat, still have a place to sleep. He'd still be fed, and still be sheltered-until the Elders decided how his fate would go. Whether he was to be shunned for life, or shunned for eternity, which meant sentenced to having no place, no name, no life.
That night, he lay in the empty stall where Merc had been. Gone now, sold away to Dudek. Jared was grateful that at least he knew where Mercury was. That his foal would be safe and well cared for, because Dudek he knew was a good man. His breath shuddered in and out, shaking his chest as he breathed. He hoped someone in the Dudek family would love Mercury the same way he had. Jared drew the back of his hand across his face, and tried to sleep, curling up into the straw. He had a basket in the stall next to him-clothing folded neatly, shoes under them. There was a blanket, and his toothbrush, and toothpowder. His comb, a jacket, crammed into that basket. Everything but his sketchpad, the pencils, he'd bought for himself. His books, Robinson Crusoe, The Story of King Arthur and His Knights were missing-they'd only left him the basics. He wondered sadly what happened to his things. He thought how sad, how miserable, how pitiful. He took a deep, deep breath, let it out.
Holerah and-and-damn it.
He rolled over and punched himself violently in the stomach, smashing his fist into his gut over and over, tears streaming down his face. The corner of his blanket shoved into his mouth let him scream without being heard, and he screamed and screamed into the rough fabric. He hated that boy. Riley. Riley, Riley, damned Riley, who most likely had cursed him to the grave and beyond. And what if he survived this parasite inside him? What if it survived? What was he going to do? If he wasn't shunned for eternity, what would he do with the walking, breathing, moving sign of his sin?
Jared leaped up from the straw, throwing himself backwards into the stable wall, hitting the wall so hard, stars exploded in his head. "Why?" he cried out. "Why, why, why is this happening to me?"
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It wasn't as cold in the barn as he'd expected it to be. Still, there was a heavy kind of coldness seeping into his heart, his blood, every day that he woke up in that stable. Coldness crept in and notched a bit of him away, day by day, as he lay waiting for the word of the Elders to smash his world to pieces.
Weak sunlight filtered through the vent at the other end of the loft. He was curled up under one of the worn blankets he'd found under some boxes of junk; felt sort of idly sad that he hadn't died during the night. But no, it was morning, and if he made tracks, he'd be able to avoid running into anyone of the family. He scurried down the ladder-he'd stopped sleeping in Merc's stall when his brother had ignored him too many times. The one time Jared hadn't been able to stand it anymore and reached out to touch him, he'd made a noise of such disgust that Jared had found himself up in the rafters before he'd known it, throwing up into a bucket.
On the ground floor again, he peeked around, just to make doubly sure no one was there. While the family seemed to very easily ignore him, it was killing Jared to be ignored. To have to walk softly, and meet no one's eye, and avoid touching them.
Just like he'd hoped, there was a bowl of oatmeal under the workbench he usually found his food place. It was congealed from the cold, and this was the thing that saddened him most-not a lick of honey or a dusting of sugar on it at all. But, it was filling at least-the bowl was full. He took it back up to the loft with him. He could have eaten in the kitchen, he knew there was always an empty chair set aside for him, but he stopped going to meals. It was too painful.
When he'd first stopped going to meals, there'd been a couple of days that he hadn't eaten anything, but it wasn't too long before he woke up to a smell that had dragged him out of his nest of self-pity. He'd found a small pot of soup under a workbench. To this day he still had no idea who brought the food for him, but it appeared every day at the same time, breakfast, and dinner, or thereabouts. Small mercies, he thought. Somebody loved him still. Maybe. Or maybe just didn't want him to die before the Elders passed sentence on him. At any rate, whether they intended it or not, it gave him strength, and set his mind to thinking about something he'd thought was impossible. His future.
He ate his oatmeal, and cleaned his nest-emptying the two buckets that did duty as his bathroom, and his source of fresh water. He pumped fresh water into one, filling it before carrying it up to the loft, came back down and cleaned, put water and feed out for Beau, knowing no one would come into the barn at this time of day. He picked up odds and ends, and did what he could to be at least somewhat useful before hiding out again in the loft.
Up in the loft, he sat behind a wall made of a hay bales and few boxes of things his mama had saved for no reason he could figure, and spent some time writing in the back of an old, moldering cookbook he'd found in one box. It was ancient, the back cracked and rotting, but he'd found a pencil tucked in the spine, so, there was a bit of luck. He skipped past the page he'd made a calendar on, and began to write.
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He was just sitting back, rereading a short poem he'd written, plucking at the words and trying to refit them to make them right, when the quiet was split by loud voices-laughter-coming from the house. The sound drew him, creeping carefully to stare out the window. The flurry of activity sent him to check his makeshift calendar, and Jared realized that it was New Year's Eve. That meant a big dinner, with Jesse's fiancée and her family, no doubt. Jared hunkered down deeper into his nest. There was noise on the barn floor, and he caught snatches of conversation, and realized that they were all of them going to Jesse's fiancée's home to welcome the new year in.
Once he got past the sudden, sharp, stab of loneliness, Jared realized that he'd actually been presented with an opportunity. The family was out. And darn it-damn it-he was not going to lay back and die for them. For anyone. He was going to live, whatever it took.
Realistically, he had no home or place in the community anymore, that was for sure. He was positive that the Elders would vote to exile him for eternity, being what he was, and this cold, dry winter would suck the life out of him if he wasn't prepared.
So.
He thought about what he would need to survive. The obvious, of course-a way to keep warm, something to eat. A direction to head in. He'd need that one way or another, whether they forced him out, or he chose to leave. He needed to make his own way, and that meant making it in one piece to the Outside. He shuddered, and bile rose in his throat. Riley was the Outside...cold and heartless, taking without thought. But...Mountain Grove was just as heartless, even if they were justified, he supposed. He reminded himself that the Outside was also those nice boys who worked on the new school. That dark-skinned boy with the warm eyes and the sweet smile...and that one boy, that Jack, who'd seemed to care that something bad had happened to Jared. There had to be some places in the city that had people like that, and somewhere he could be safe in.
Well, he'd find out soon enough, because today, at this start of the new year, Jared was choosing a new life. What he was going to do about the parasite, he'd decide later. Holerah, the damn thing would probably kill him before long anyway, according to the pamphlets the doctor had given him.
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He slipped into the house and did a quick search of his former room. There was nothing of his to be seen, but...he got on his knees and stuck his head under the bed he used to sleep in, and there, crumpled into a back corner and obviously overlooked, was an old knapsack. He smiled, and hooked a strap to pull it out. He flipped open the top, and luck was on his side-laying at the bottom was the baggy, over-sized knit hat-this was the knapsack they'd taken on the Runround. He shivered, and forced himself past the blast of nausea thinking about the Runround always brought. He fished around inside the knapsack. Besides the hat, there was still a pocket knife he'd left inside it, a matchcase, some socks, and a book. Wonderful!
He searched for his other books, his sketch tablets, pencils, and wasn't surprised to find nothing. Just as he thought, his belongings were all gone. Which meant he could search for them, but if he found them and took anything, they'd know he'd been in the house. They'd probably know anyway. Jared decided to give them something to find-he went into the root cellar and stole jars of fruit, vegetables, whatever he could stuff in the pack. He was wearing boots, and his scarf and mittens. Somewhere in the barn, he'd stacked his skis last year. Maybe he could take them as well...he thought about it and decided no. He needed to be able to hide this stuff.
Back in the barn, he searched around on the floor of Merc's stall, and found what he was looking for-a loose board that opened into a little pit he'd dug in the dirt beneath the floor, a long time ago when he was just a silly, dream-filled kid. He'd had pirates and hidden treasure on his mind then, and thrilled that he'd had his very own secret treasure chest. Life had been so simple then...Jared ruthlessly squashed down useless thoughts, and felt around in the dirt until his fingers bumped against something solid. He came up with a mason jar filled with first whatever pennies he'd found, and then as he'd grown, the bit of money he made helping out Dudek and other farmers in the harvest. It probably wasn't much, but he'd bet he had at least enough for a bus ticket.
He held the jar up and shook the few bills and coins around and frowned. With some luck, anyway. He rolled up one of the moth-eaten blankets, and tied it to the knapsack. He imagined it wouldn't take him more than two or three days, all told, so besides a sweater, a pair of pants, and a few undershirts, he decided against taking any other clothes. When he made his way to the city, he'd get a job, and buy his own things. He was a hard worker, and smart; someone would want him for sure.
The next day, he headed out early, taking the road he figured his daddy would most likely take. Being cut off from Family would be a secret thing, not meant to have an audience, and Jared knew his daddy-he wasn't going to drop him at the bus stop, that was for sure. No, he'd take Jared way out past the last bit of pasture they owned, and leave him on the edge of the wood, where no one could see.
Jared grabbed the knapsack, and his mason jar treasure chest and set out for the edge of the wood. He hiked inwards for a while, until the sun was high in the sky, and found a crooked tree with widespread branches. He thought he'd recognize it, apart from the rest, and hid his pack and jar there under fallen leaves. He looked up at the sky with a frown. He hoped against hope it wouldn't snow. Heck-he'd been lucky so far. He'd pray for more, but he was afraid he'd lost that right.
He trudged out of the wood, much slower than he'd headed into it, and set out for the house, determined to ask for the things of his they'd hidden from him.
His sister was on the steps when he came through the gate at the side of the yard, and he hesitated. But he missed her so terribly, it made his heart skip a beat to see her, so he kept on walking. Near the porch, he stopped and worked up a smile, trying to hide the way his lips wanted to wobble. "Mer-"
"Abomination," she hissed and jumped up, whisked away into the kitchen, slamming the door shut in his face.
Jared froze, staring at the spot on the steps where she'd been. He felt as if something inside him had snapped, and if he moved, he'd spill broken pieces of himself everywhere. He was still standing there when his daddy came out and asked, "What is it you want, man? Why are you here? I'll come to get you when the verdict is read."
"I want my books. I bought them with my own money-my tablets and pencils, too."
His daddy went bright red, his mouth worked a moment before he hissed, "Says the devil's servant. We've fed you out of the generosity of our hearts, gave you a place to sleep, and you dare ta demand a thing from me?"
"It's not yours! It's mine-I bought it!"
"We'll see about that," his daddy said, and for a second time, the door was shut on him.
Jared went out that evening, walked right into their small town, marking how all the family shied away from him, as if he might reach out and infect them with his deviancy and did his best to give off the air that he didn't care. He walked right into into their little general store , ignoring the wave of whispering, like a flash-flood in a dry river bed.
He strolled up and down the aisles, picking up a bag of candy, a little sewing kit, and a little Barton bag, the bright red cross on it sort of incongruously cheerful, considering. It would come in handy in case he needed to clean up a cut or scrape. He hoped sincerely that'd be all he had to worry about.
He walked up to the counter and of course he was ignored, when he wasn't hissed at, or had people making faces at him like they'd just stepped into a steaming cow patty. He made a production of leaving money on the counter-Lord forbid he be accused of stealing as well as being an abomination-and walked out of the store.
He felt some extra pleasure enjoying his candy that evening in his bed of straw and blankets, and wondered if being an abomination was giving him a skewed sense of humor as well. He sucked on a ginger candy, reflecting, and decided that actually being an abomination hadn't affected his sense of humor much at all. It had always been skewed. So, he thought, guess I've always been walking on a twisted path.
He should feel awful about it, but tonight, he just felt...kind of, just a little bit, triumphant. He would survive, and when they kicked him out, he was not going to cry, not one lousy tear.
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One day went past, then another, and then came a morning he woke to the smell of smoke. He watched his daddy make a fire, and one by one, throw all the things that had brought him so much joy into it. Jared waited for grief to fill him, for sadness, for anger, but he felt nothing. It was as if the man threw a stranger's things into the eager flames. Daddy looked up, and Jared knew. This was it.
He took his time. Let the man come and drag him down the ladder if he wanted. He put a sweater on over his shirt, and buttoned his coat over it. He wrapped the red scarf a few times around his neck, topped it off with the baggy hat, and shoved his lumpy mittens into his pockets-the last of the things that were his alone.
He looked around the loft, at the pile of hay that had been his bed, and the buckets that had been his bathroom and kitchen and the threadbare blankets that had kept him warm in the night, and laughed, and laughed, until his sides ached and his eyes watered. He thought about it, he really did, and knew it was stupid and petty, but-"holerah!" He swung his foot back, and kicked the bucket of piss over before climbing down the stairs and heading out to the yard.
The wagon was there, with the tailgate down. No one was in the yard, no one was at the windows.
Daddy looked sort of sideways to Jared, not meeting his eyes, as he said, "On this morning my son, Jared Tytus Padalecki, died. Let no one speak his name. Let no one hear his name. In this world, or the next."
Jared felt faint-everything spun around him, everything felt far away and too close all at once. His stomach twisted, but through an act of sheer will, he kept the contents down, and his eyes open, and didn't buckle, not for a second
After having pronounced the Elder's verdict, Daddy was was silent, just climbing up into the wagon seat and waiting until Jared's weight made the rear dip a bit. He clucked at the horses, and the wagon lurched. They rolled up the drive and Jared sunk his face into his hands. He'd swore that he wouldn't waste a tear on this place and their cruel ways, but he couldn't help it. He watched the place he'd been born in between spread fingers, watched it get smaller and smaller.
The land passed him by.
Minutes later the wagon slowed, about to come to a stop, but Jared jumped off before it stilled completely and walked straight off into the woods, tears washing his face, drying to freezing tracks on his skin, but he never looked back and he never said a word, or gave the man who shoved him out of his life a second look.
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