Legacy, part 1
Jared meets the new kid when the guy rescues him from his own locker.
He'd be more ashamed by the ignominy of the circumstances, but the guy has really big, really distractingly green eyes, and they're standing really close because Jared was off balance when he got pulled out and had to grab at the new kid to steady himself, and it's seriously throwing him off.
"You okay?" the new guy asks.
Honestly, Jared's not sure, but the kick of unexpected attraction in his throat and the sudden pounding in his ears are definitely better than being in a locker, so he nods, letting go of the guy.
"You shouldn't have done that," he manages. The hallway current ebbs and flows around them, chatter and slam of between-class traffic near deafening.
New guy shrugs, rubbing an awkward hand over his cropped, dark-blond hair. "Not gonna leave you in a locker, man, that's just cold. How did you even fit in there?"
"No, I mean." Jared looks down, takes a breath. "Telling off Jake like that, interfering. People don't mess with Jake."
"Yeah, well." Jared looks up to see the guy gazing down the hall, not really looking at anything. "I'm kinda over people. Tried being a person at my old school. Didn't go so hot." He looks back at Jared, focus sharpening, half a smile on his face. "Think I might just go with outcast this time around, see what that gets me."
Jared startles into a laugh. "Well, let me assure you that you are off to a fantastic start. Stick with me, I'll show you how the losers do it."
"You're not a loser," the new guy snaps, then looks away. "Sorry. I just..."
"Look," says Jared, "forget it. Thank you, okay? What's your name?"
There's a second, and Jared's not sure the guy's going to tell him, but then he does.
"Jensen." He holds out his hand, wry grin knocking the gesture away from formality. "I hear you're Jared."
"I am." Jared grips his hand, shakes. "Nice to meet you, Jensen."
"Likewise."
The bell shrills, and Jared swears. "Sorry, I have to I'm late for History."
Jensen nods. "No, yeah. See you around, Jared."
Jared flees.
Jensen doesn't make it to his Spanish class on time, but since he's a new senior, no one cares. He sits by the window and zones a little.
Ohio's a pretty big change from Florida. The view from the window is sunny, but without the almost relentless tropical shine. He doesn't really miss his old school, or the old house; never lets himself miss anything, hasn't for a while. Jensen enjoys what he has while he has it. Move around as much as he does, getting attached is asking for heartbreak.
He enjoyed Florida. It was warm, the ocean was fun, the people were a good time. But he didn't leave any close friends when they fled the beach house; Jensen stopped making real friends when he was twelve and realized he was never going to stay anywhere long enough for it to mean anything.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. Jeff. He declines the call and texts, in class. can't talk. Jeff went a little nuts when Jensen insisted on going to school here, wanted him to take a semester and lie low, but Jensen maintained that he could lie low at school just as easily as going stir-crazy in a foreclosed two-storey on the outskirts of town. He got his way by virtue of having learned how to forge transcripts and lie with the best of them the best of them being, of course, Jeff. The compromise was that Jeff would call to check in every hour, and that Jensen was never to ignore a call or Jeff would assume the worst.
God help Jensen if he ever gets his phone confiscated.
There's a girl two rows over trying to get his attention. He meets her eye accidentally, smiles noncommittally and looks away again. Lie low. Stay under the radar.
Stay alive.
The bell rings as the teacher is wrapping up. Instantly ignoring her, the class pours out into the hall, Jensen doing his best to blend. It's pretty easy, actually. Just don't look at anyone, keep your head down, mind your own business.
Yeah, he did a spectacular job of minding his own business this morning. What the hell was that about? He saw a kid getting shoved around and couldn't stop himself, didn't even think to. Stepped right up to the most powerful boy in school and made an instant enemy.
Jensen maybe has a soft spot for underdogs.
He can't help glancing around, as he moves through the crowded hallways in search of his next class, looking for the tall kid with the shaggy hair. Jared's the first person Jensen really talked to here; the pattern-recognition capacity of the normal intelligent brain will understandably search for a familiar element.
He does notice Jake, the quarterback asshole, with his posse, and diligently avoids them. That is not a confrontation he's eager to have twice in one day.
He doesn't see Jared. Doesn't see him for the rest of the day, in fact. Jensen is surprised to find himself disappointed.
On the second day of school, Jared finds out that Jensen is in his art class.
He's been trying not to fixate on the guy. After yesterday, they might be friends, but it's also possible that Jensen has changed his mind about associating with Jared. He hasn't seen him since, not even in the hallways, and it's depressing how much that depresses him. He's been fine with no friends ever since the thing with his dad, but it's really amazing how much damage a little hope can do.
But then Jensen walks in right before the bell, and Jared finds his voice fast enough to say, "Hey, man," before Jensen can walk past him and find a seat. There's actually a spot next to Jared, because typically people avoid him, and maybe
Jensen turns toward him, and a small smile of recognition appears on his face. "Oh, hey. Didn't know you were taking art."
Jared is a bit tongue-tied, because that little, sincere smile is possibly the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Then Jensen is saying,
"Can I sit by you?" and moving to take the empty seat on his left, and Jared just has to nod, so it's okay that he probably couldn't talk right now if he tried.
It's really very difficult to concentrate when the teacher starts speaking.
Mrs. Adams goes over the course syllabus with all the depth of someone who knows that no one's listening, then says, "So today we're playing with oil pastels," and Jared grins, because oil pastels are basically fancy crayons that do the job better, and he loved crayons until he was, like, fifteen. He might still love crayons, actually.
He looks over to catch Jensen's eye, share the joy, and Jensen's already looking at him, a kind of puzzled amusement on his face.
"Pretty happy about this," he says, quietly.
"Yeah," says Jared honestly. He can't even pretend to be cool about it. Art's his favourite subject anyway by far, even if he kind of sucks at it, so he's mostly always happy in art class.
Jensen just keeps looking at him thoughtfully. Before the moment stretches too thin, they have to go get paper and pastels and, apparently, start drawing anything they see in the classroom.
"Any style, any combination of objects or persons, whatever. I want to see where you're all at. You have an hour. Go."
Jared has no idea what he's going to draw. There's a lot in the classroom: art on the walls, easels in the corner, the view out the window, even the geometric complexities of desks and chairs and blackboards. His eye won't settle anywhere until he looks over to see how Jensen's getting on and can't look away, gaze caught on Jensen's face, his hands.
Before he really realizes what he's doing, he's drawing Jensen. The lines and shadows of his face are kind of exquisite and Jared tries to dial it back on the eyelashes, but seriously. He ends up getting Jensen's profile down to about mid-chest, then his forearms and his hands, drawing. Jensen leans way over his desk like his drawing is a secret, but his body doesn't quite hide it from Jared.
Jensen's drawing swirls and spirals within circles, in bold blue and green strokes. Jared's surprised enough that he hisses, "Where do you see that?"
Jensen looks over at him. "I don't. They're on my leg."
"Tattoo?" Jared manages, and swallows. Jensen was hot enough without, dammit.
Jensen gives kind of a pained half-smile. "Not quite," he says, which makes Jared extremely curious, but he doesn't want to be rude. Jensen glances at Jared's paper, which Jared did not even think to try and hide. "Wait, is that me?"
Jared goes red. "Uh. Yes?" he tries. "You were the closest thing that looked interesting," he goes on, digging himself deeper. "Never mind. Sorry, uh, does it... bother you?"
Jensen looks at it for another moment, then gives Jared another small smile. "Nah. I don't mind. It's pretty good."
Jared laughs. "You don't have to lie to me, man. I know I suck at this."
"Whatever," scoffs Jensen. "Not gonna argue with you."
"Good."
"Fine."
There's a moment of relative quiet as they continue working, then:
"Does my chin really look like that to you?"
"Shut up," Jared says, laughing again, and suddenly it's not awkward anymore.
Mrs. Adams, in her circulating, comes to a stop behind him and Jensen at one point, and Jared feels horribly self-conscious. It's one thing to draw your new friend on whom you might possibly have a minor crush (or, okay, a pretty huge crush, but Jared can deal with that, he's done it before) and let him see it; it's another for the teacher to watch you doing it. She doesn't say anything about either of their work and moves on after a few moments. Jared breathes a little more freely once she's left.
Near the end of the period, Jared notices that Jensen's filling the blank space around the circle designs with random objects, just placed wherever they fit, packing the white space full of orange and yellow. Jared's got a surrealist sort of palette going on, but he does his best to faithfully approximate Jensen's work in the colours Jensen's using, albeit heavily simplified because Jared really wasn't lying when he said he sucked. If he doesn't catch himself he'll get hung up on detail, spending hours and hours on one thing until he can't handle looking at it anymore because it will never be quite right.
Neither of them is quite finished by the bell, but they hand in their sheets anyway and put away the pastels. Jared is wondering if he's maybe spooked Jensen and Jensen's just too nice to tell him, when Jensen goes,
"Where do you eat lunch? I didn't see you yesterday."
Which means that Jensen was looking for him. "Outside. Near the soccer field, there's this big tree...?"
"Yeah, I think I know where you mean. Mind if I join you today?"
"Yes!" Jared says without thinking, then corrects himself. "I mean, no, I don't mind. That's- that'd be great."
"All right, then. Catch you later." Jensen waves a half-salute and heads off.
Jared stands where he is for a couple of seconds, stilled by surprise, until the traffic behind him has backed up enough that he gets pushed forward, toward his next class.
In his head, Jensen defends his decision to eat lunch with Jared by reminding himself that he doesn't want to stand out. Eating lunch alone would be conspicuous, and conspicuous is not something Jensen does.
He carefully ignores the part of his mind that tries to remind him about all the times he showed off at his old schools because he was faster, stronger, a better athlete than any human, and it galled him to pretend to be less all the time; about all the times he let himself matter to someone even though he knew he'd be leaving within a year; about the fact that eating lunch with the school pariah is typically more conspicuous than eating alone.
He's seventeen. He's not supposed to be capable of perfect humility and detachment. Besides, even adults need validation sometimes, right?
Jared's already under the tree by the time Jensen gets there, and the way he lights up when he sees Jensen coming erases the entire debate from his mind. He's going to spend time with his new friend; there's nothing wrong with that. It's totally normal high school behaviour.
Jared is a little quiet at first, hesitant like he's not sure Jensen actually wants to be there. After a bit, though, he loosens up. It turns out they both have the same English teacher but in different sections, and Jared gets all enthusiastic telling Jensen about the independent study project that comes due at the end of term.
"I saw what her class did last year, some of it was pretty amazing," he says, eyes shining. "I think she does the same thing every year, so that means we'll be doing the thematic study."
"What's that?"
"You pick some of the themes that come up in the stuff we study this term and you show how they run through all of it, with, like, examples and stuff. You can write a paper or do a scrapbook or a poster or a picture book or whatever you want. I hear she's super flexible as long as the assignment does what it's supposed to."
"You gonna draw something, Picasso?"
Jared ducks his head, trying and failing to hide his wide grin. "Yeah, probably. I think it'll be fun."
It's bizarre that Jared isn't more popular. He's smart, he's tall, he listens with real interest, and he's got a genuine openness that's magnetic. Why more people aren't drawn to the kid is a mystery to Jensen.
"Hey, so where did you move from?" Jared asks.
"Dallas," says Jensen. It's not a total lie; he did live there for a while in middle school, and it's where his fake transcripts put him most recently. Still, he feels bad not being honest. Something about Jared's open face makes him want to be truthful. It's kind of a new sensation.
"Seriously? I was born in San Antonio, we used to visit my grandparents in Abilene until" he cuts himself off, face closing suddenly. "Anyway. Cool."
Jensen doesn't ask. Maybe later, when they know each other better, he'll find out, but he's not going to push.
"You got any pets?" he asks instead.
Jared sighs. "I wish," he says wistfully. "I'd love to get a dog, but we can't. I just usually get goldfish when the fair comes, and they always die. I shouldn't get 'em, I'm terrible at keeping things alive." He lets out a little, self-deprecating laugh.
"Goldfish are better than nothing, man," Jensen points out, trying to cheer him up.
"I guess it'd be hard to move a pet from Texas to Ohio."
"Actually, I kind of have a dog." Jensen scratches his head self-consciously. It's weird that he just lucked into something Jared wants so badly.
"What do you mean, 'kind of'?" Jared demands, laughing. "Either you have a dog or you don't, right?"
"Yeah, I mean, I have a dog, I guess," Jensen acknowledges. "Just, she was a stray. We found her hanging around when we moved in." No tags, no collar, just a little flop-eared bundle of fur huddled under the front porch in the rain.
"What's she like? Can I meet her?" Jared sounds so eager, and Jensen hates having to disappoint him.
"I'm not allowed people over; my dad keeps weird hours 'cause he works from home," he says, the usual excuse coming easily. It's more that Jeff is technically Jensen's guardian, not his dad, and they don't actually own the house they're squatting in. Plus it's full of illegal computer activity because Jeff has to keep tabs on whether anyone with technology is paying attention to Jensen. It's got to suck, doing that job, which is why Jensen makes allowances when Jeff gets frustrated at him and insists on keeping such tight security. Like not having people over, and calling every hour.
Jared's face falls, and he looks so disappointed that Jensen adds,
"But maybe you could still meet her. If you wanted to, like, hang out sometime. I could bring her."
And just like that, Jared's all lit up again. "Seriously? That would be awesome. What's her name?"
"Sadie." Just then, Jensen's phone buzzes. Jeff, of course. "'Scuse me," he says, and answers it. "Hey, Dad, how're you doing?"
"Dad, huh? You with somebody?"
"Doin' good. Made a friend already." He grins at Jared, who grins back. It's sunny out, and Jared looks a bit warm. Well, lunch is almost over, they can go back in soon.
"Be careful. I know I don't have to tell you what could go wrong."
"Definitely. Well, you take it easy, Dad, I'll see you after school."
"Stop by that Polish diner we saw on Main and pick up dinner on your way, will you?"
"Sure, okay. 'Bye." He ends the call and turns his attention back to Jared, who's just looking at him thoughtfully. "What?"
Jared shakes his head slightly. "Nothing, I just"
The bell rings, cutting him off. Jensen raises his eyebrows, but Jared just shakes his head more firmly.
"See you again tomorrow?" he asks over the bell, and Jensen says,
"Yeah, of course."
Seriously, nobody with a grin that bright should be a social outcast. It doesn't make sense.
Jensen's at his locker trying to remember what he needs for his afternoon classes when Jake swaggers up like he owns the hallway and everyone in it.
"Ackles, wasn't it? I'd like a word."
"No one's stopping you," says Jensen. "What do you want?"
Jake's got his posse with him, five or so big guys, bigger than Jensen, who somehow all defer to Jake even though he's pretty much exactly Jensen's height. They're ranged behind him like backup, and Jensen has a bad feeling.
"Just a friendly heads-up," says Jake. "Couldn't help noticing that you seem to have gotten a little attached to Jared Padalecki."
"And?" says Jensen.
Jake leans in fractionally, voice smoothly patronising. "Listen, Ackles, you're new here; I get that. You see someone you think's being unfairly treated, you think you're doing a good thing, doing a favour to the guy with no friends. Maybe you don't realize what it looks like to the rest of us. Trust me when I say that Jared Padalecki is not someone you want to be associating with."
"Trust me," says Jensen, "when I say that I don't give a rat's ass about your opinion, and that who I choose to spend time with is my business." He turns away and continues shuffling through his locker, looking for his Calculus textbook.
Jake makes a little tsk sound, shaking his head gravely. "Oh, no, I think you'll find that you're mistaken there. See, Jared Padalecki" he pauses for emphasis and spits the next words viciously into Jensen's ear "is a fag. And since you seem to be so fond of his company, then it looks an awful lot like you're also a fag. If that's not the picture of yourself that you'd like to portray at this school, then I suggest..."
Jake's still talking, but Jensen can't hear him over the buzzing in his ears. He's angry, abruptly furious with Jake and everyone else at this school that is so closed-minded that they're still ostracizing people for being gay. His hands, clenched into fists and resting against the walls of his locker, start to shake, balled up so tight they actually hurt. He can hardly control them; the buzzing in his ears is resolving to a subsonic hum that he feels throughout his entire body, and he feels strangely detached from the rest of the hallway, compressing in on himself and his anger like a discrete entity. He's shuddering, deep tremors radiating out from his abdomen in waves, and he has to get out of here, this isn't, this can't be normal, this hasn't happened before.
Are his hands glowing?
Jake's still talking, puts out his hand and roughly grabs Jensen's shoulder, and Jensen can't.
He slams his locker shut, yanks himself away from Jake and stumbles away down the hall as fast as he can. Second bell rings before Jake can come after him, and he makes it out of the building without anyone stopping him.
His hands are definitely glowing.
The closest thing that looks like shelter is the baseball dugout, and he makes it there before he completely freaks out. His hands feel like they're on fire, it's like when he got the scars on his leg only it just keeps going, it never stops, and his hands are glowing bright blue like they're going to burn right off. He trips over a bench in the confused lighting and falls, catching himself badly on his elbows because he's terrified to touch anything with his hands. He tries to pick himself up again but after a fruitless minute he gives up. The ground is fine, the ground is solid, the ground is not going to give way if he shakes apart and burns.
He has no idea how long he's been lying on the ground and praying for his hands to either stop hurting or just be immolated already when a shadow moves in the dugout entrance. Before he can panic, the shape registers as Jeff, and as soon as his brain makes the connection he lets out a pathetic, urgent sound.
"It's okay, kid, I'm here," says Jeff, and drops to his knees beside Jensen, who's curled up on his side.
"My hands," Jensen's not sure how he's making words, "Jeff, what's happening?"
"Okay." Jeff takes him by the wrists, familiar and firm, and Jensen instantly begins to calm down. "You need to focus. This is your Legacy, Jensen. Remember when we talked about this? You need to breathe through it and focus on your hands."
"Hurts," Jensen manages.
"Of course it does. Focus on your hands, Jensen. Let them hurt."
Jensen focuses, and as he does, the pain becomes more intense and then begins, miraculously, to recede. The light fades as he concentrates, recognizing as he does the way his senses are connected to the light, the way his mind is set up to have control over it.
When the glow is gone, the pain stops. Jensen's still shuddering, aftermath of the stress, and his arms go slack in Jeff's grip. Jeff gives him his hands back, setting his arms down in front of his chest, and puts one solid, callused hand on Jensen's shoulder, grounding him as Jeff begins to talk.
"This is your power, Jensen. This is your parents' last gift to you. The six of you left on this planet, you're the last of your lines. You are the last to receive these powers."
"I know," says Jensen, finally breathing evenly. "You said."
"I'm reminding you so that you understand how important it is that we start your training right away," says Jeff. "The sooner we start, the sooner you can defend yourself."
"Isn't that what I have you for?"
Jeff shakes him, once. "No. You have me so you don't need to be defended. You have me so no one can find you. You will be stronger than me. Do you understand that? Now that your Legacy has surfaced, you have no idea what you're capable of. We have to find out, before the Mogadorians do."
Jensen has been dodging mortal peril for his entire life. It would be nice, he thinks, to be able to do something about it besides run.
"Let's get started," he says, sitting up. He notices Sadie sitting patiently in the doorway. "Hey, girl," he calls softly, reaching out to her. She comes trotting over and pushes her head eagerly into his hand. "How come she's here?" he asks, scratching the way she likes it.
"I think she followed you to school," says Jeff. His face is half-illuminated by the light from outside. "She came and got me. Damn near barked the house down."
"Thanks, Sadie," Jensen says, ruffling her ears gently. "Good girl. Good girl."
Sadie whuffles quietly, sounding satisfied.
"I'm excusing you for the rest of the day. Let's go," says Jeff, and gives Jensen a hand up.
The sunlight is blinding after the dark of the dugout, and Jensen blinks. The world looks somehow different now.
His Legacy surfaced. Everything is different now.
Jared gets slammed into lockers three different times by three different people before school even starts. He didn't sleep much and it rained this morning and his shoes leak, and he's really just looking forward to seeing Jensen again at lunch. Even if the ground is still wet, he reasons, Jensen will probably still meet him like he said, and they can find an alternative that's dry.
Jensen doesn't come.
The ground is wet, and Jared ends up standing under his tree like an idiot, trying and failing to suppress bitter disappointment.
After first bell, as he's gathering his afternoon books, Jake smarms past and says, quiet, in his ear, "I think you scared off your new friend. Maybe he found out you want to jump him," and Jared clenches his teeth and tries not to react. This is why he doesn't visit his locker between classes. It's usually safer to be moving.
And damn Jake, anyway. Jared wishes Jake found him beneath notice, because then he wouldn't expend so much energy making Jared's life hell.
It's incomprehensible to Jared how he could have ever liked the guy at all.
He manages to shrug off his anger and goes about his afternoon with only his tamped-down disappointment over Jensen to distract him from classes. English causes it to flare a little higher, just because it reminds him of his conversation with Jensen yesterday, but on the whole he thinks he's managing pretty well.
At the very least, he figures, he should be able to shake it off within a week or so. He's only known Jensen for a couple of days; it shouldn't take long to mourn the loss of what was apparently not the budding friendship it seemed to be. Even as he tells himself this, he knows it's a lie, especially since they'll still have art together, but the sooner he starts letting go, the easier it'll be.
Then, the next day, Jensen's not in art class, and hope springs up in Jared like the pernicious weed it is.
Surely he wouldn't skip class to avoid Jared.
Maybe he's just sick. At least that's a pretty terrible thing to hope for, and it's not that he wants Jensen to be ill, just it makes more sense, right?
He asks Ms. Castillo if Jensen was in English class, and she says he's missed the last couple of days. "Excused absence," she says. "No, I can't tell you what the excuse was, that's a privacy issue."
He thanks her and goes home feeling a bit lighter. And his mother is making dinner when he gets there and Greg isn't home all evening and Jared gets his homework done, so altogether it adds up to a much better day than yesterday.
If he weren't, now, worrying about Jensen, and why he's excused from school, it might actually rate as a good day.
Jared doesn't really expect that Jensen will be there on Friday, so he's not disappointed when he doesn't see him anywhere. After lunch, though, he gets sent down to the office to pick up something for Mr. Yushchenko, but somebody's dad or something just came in, so he has to wait for the secretary.
"...called about picking up missed work for Jensen Ackles," says the man, and Jared whips his head around to stare.
That must be Jensen's dad. He's taller than his son, almost as tall as Jared, and his hair is dark and streaked with grey. He's built, too; his broad shoulders fill out a totally badass leather jacket, and he stands like a soldier.
"What a shame to be sick so early in the year," the secretary commiserates. "I've got that right handy for you, just give me a moment." When she steps away from the counter, Jared steps forward.
"Excuse me, uh are you Jensen's dad?"
The man turns and smiles broadly, showing even, white teeth. "You know my boy?"
Jared nods. "Please, is he sick? Is he getting better?"
The smile turns a little wry. "He is getting better, yes. Don't worry, I imagine he'll be back in school by Monday."
The secretary reappears and hands Jensen's dad a large envelope. "Here you are, Mr. Ackles. That should be everything," she says. "Let him know he can go see any of his teachers when he's back if he has trouble."
"Will do," says Jensen's dad. "Thank you very much." He turns to Jared before he leaves. "Now, would your name be Jared, by chance?"
Jared flushes. "Yes, sir. Uh, I mean, Mr. Ackles." Jensen talked about him. The idea is kind of messing with his executive functions.
Jensen's dad waves him off. "Don't have to be so formal, kid. You can call me Jeff."
Jared swallows hard. "Okay, uh, Jeff."
"I'll let him know you asked after him," says Jeff. "He's had a tough couple of days."
"Thanks," says Jared. "Um, obviously I just met him, but I was a little worried."
Jeff smiles again, kindly. "I can tell. Well, I'll let you get back to your errand here." And he leaves the office. Jared stares after him, mouth slightly ajar.
He just met Jensen's family.
"Jared," says the secretary patiently, "what did you need?"
"Oh." Right. "Mr. Yushchenko sent me to pick up his field trip waivers."
He thinks it's a little pathetic that all he can think for the rest of the day is I just have to make it to Monday, and then I can see Jensen again.
"Met your friend," says Jeff when he gets back.
"Who?" Jensen asks, distracted by opening up the package of homework Jeff tossed on the table in front of him.
"Jensen." That's Jeff's pay attention, idiot voice, and Jensen registers what he said.
"Oh. Oh! You met Jared?"
Jeff shakes his head, amused. "Yeah, ran into him in the office. Asked after you. Seemed really worried."
Something in Jensen warms at the news. "What did you tell him?"
"Just that you were getting better. You'll have to come up with your own story."
"I can do that." He might not even have to lie, much, if he can figure out how to word it. A thought strikes him. "Wait, was he in trouble? Why was he in the office?"
"Messenger, I think. Didn't look like trouble." Jeff is practically laughing at him. "You met this kid on Monday, Jensen. You don't have to look out for him. You've got enough to worry about."
"I know," says Jensen, frustrated. "I just" care what happens to him. It feels like it would be weird to say it out loud, so he settles on, "I can't just not interact with anyone, Jeff. I don't think that's how people work."
Jeff looks at him keenly, then nods. "It would probably be more conspicuous if you didn't," he remarks.
Jensen feels oddly relieved.
"Here," he says abruptly, "let me show you what I did while you were gone."
After Jensen went home on Tuesday, Jeff let him rest for a couple of hours. Then they started training.
They worked on controlling the light, first.
"As superpowers go, this could be more useful," Jensen commented.
"As superheroes go," Jeff replied, "you could be more disciplined. Nail this down and we'll talk about your telekinesis."
Jensen was so shocked he turned on the light without thinking. Sadie came dancing around him, trying to play with the shining, while Jeff leaned against the side of the house and laughed.
"Telekinesis comes standard," Jeff explained the next morning. "The rest is a crap shoot." The light emissions were under solid control; Jeff had sniped at Jensen until he'd lost his temper, testing his control with his power's initial trigger. Jensen's naturally calm disposition had shrugged off the first volley of insults, even when Jeff had brought up his parents (which he'd sworn he'd never do, the bastard), but a few snide remarks about Jared had snapped his anger taut... and he hadn't produced a light show.
Jeff considered that Jensen had the light control sufficiently nailed down.
"Unless Earth has some kind of adverse effect on your Legacy, you should be able to move things," Jeff said.
"What kinds of things?" Jensen asked.
"Show me," said Jeff.
Jensen showed him.
First he tried to pick up a piece of wood from the stack by the house, and accidentally shattered it. Sadie yelped and hid.
"Awesome," said Jensen, and did the same thing to the tree stump in the yard.
"How about not destroying the next thing," Jeff suggested, and Jensen, concentrating hard, lifted another piece of wood intact.
After an hour of moving stuff he got cocky and tried to uproot a tree. Part of it blew up in his face. Instinctively, he threw up a guard.
That was how he found out he could resist damage. Up to a point.
By the end of the day, he could lift Jeff to the roof.
"Congratulations, smartass. Now get me down without breaking any bones."
"How much stronger will I get? Jensen couldn't help asking.
"Can't say. Keep training, we might find out."
Jensen kept training.
Halfway through Thursday, he thought to ask, "Jeff, do you have a lighter?"
Jeff looked wary, but handed over his Zippo. Jensen flicked it open and held the flame to his arm, focusing as he did so on not letting the fire through, as he had instinctively protected himself from harm the previous day.
It felt a little warm.
"Holy shit," said Jensen. "I'm fireproof."
Jeff's expression was halfway between dread and unspeakable pride.
Friday, Jeff said, "I called to get your teachers to put together the work you missed." He held up a hand when Jensen started to protest. "You fall behind, you attract notice. While I'm out, I want you to anticipate situations at school that might make you lose control. I think we both know Jared's a trigger for you." He raised a significant eyebrow and Jensen shifted uncomfortably. It sounded so it just sounded funny, when Jeff put it like that. "So go through a hypothetical day best and worst possible scenarios and see what happens to your control. Show me you can handle it, I'll let you go back to school on Monday."
When Jeff was gone, Jensen trained his ass off.
Jared's got his chin on his hands and his elbows on the counter of his stepdad's record store, because Greg's in the back and can't yell at him for something he can't see. He doesn't even know why the store is open on Sundays; hardly anyone ever comes in. But it's not like Greg's paying an employee to be here, so Jared guesses it's Greg's way of forcing Jared to toe the line while catching up on paperwork and managerial stuff.
There's a Poison album crackling through the store's ancient sound system and Jared hates it on principle. Periodically he wonders how much of Greg's music he'd actually like if he didn't have such shitty associations with it.
The bell over the door tinkles, startling him upright.
"Jensen?"
Jensen looks around, sees Jared, and breaks into a huge grin. It's like extra sunlight. His eyes crinkle up at the corners and his teeth are white and even like his dad's.
"Jared, hey! You work here?"
"Yeah, my stepdad owns the place."
"Really? That's gotta be sweet."
"Eh." Jared tries for noncommittal, but Jensen's smile flags a little.
"Not so much, huh? Okay, just ignore this foot here, I'll try and talk around it."
Jared laughs in spite of himself. "It's okay. How are you doing, anyway? I was worried." As soon as the words are out, he feels like he's said too much, but it's not like Jensen doesn't know, right?
Jensen ducks his head, scratching at the back of his neck in a gesture Jared is starting to recognise as a nervous habit. "I'm doing a lot better. I pretty much slept all yesterday, but I was going to lose it if I had to stay home one more day."
"Your dad let you? Like, you really are better?" Jared can't help it. He just worries.
Jensen chuckles. "Yeah, had to whip out the puppy eyes." He demonstrates, looking up through his eyelashes with a slight pout, and Jared's breath catches. "'I promise I can handle it, I just want to see something other than home and school!'" He breaks, grinning again. "Not that he fell for it, but I think he felt bad 'cause of the week I had. Oh, and Sadie came with me. She's outside; I tied her up to the bike rack."
"Seriously?" Jared peers out the window, but doesn't see anything.
"She's pretty little; you can't see her from here." Jensen glances around the empty store. "You wanna come meet her?"
Jared is torn. On the one hand, he's supposed to be behind the counter. On the other hand, there is absolutely no one in the store besides staff and Jensen, and he'll be right by the entrance in case lightning strikes twice today.
"She'll be really excited to meet you," Jensen coaxes. "She loves people. At least, she loves me," he amends. "It's possible she might hate you, but you're about the least hate-able person I've ever met, so." He throws that sunny smile at Jared again, and that settles it. Jared's going to meet the dog.
Sadie's a comely little blackback beagle, just starting to go brown around the face; practically still a puppy. She leaps to her feet as soon as Jensen opens the door, tail wagging so hard her whole body wiggles, and Jensen kneels down so she can clamber up and lick his face.
"Hey, whoa," he says, laughing, "I haven't even been gone that long." Once she settles a bit, he turns her toward Jared. "I want you to meet a friend of mine. Jared, this is Sadie. Sadie, Jared."
Jared puts out a tentative hand; Sadie sniffs it, licks it, then ducks under it for scritches. He obediently starts scratching, letting her head movements guide his efforts. She plops her hindquarters down on the pavement and settles in, making a pleased noise and pushing up harder into his hand. He starts grinning, then finds he can't stop.
"Dude," says Jensen, "what did I tell you?"
"Yeah," is all he can say. He can't help it, joins in with his other hand to get the optimal angle on both ears at once, and Sadie rewards him with a high whine before climbing into his lap and giving his face the same treatment she gave Jensen's. Startled, he overbalances out of his crouch and falls back onto his ass on the sidewalk, Sadie in his lap. Jensen starts laughing helplessly, shoulders curling forward, head falling back, and it's like everything Jared ever wanted right here on this little stretch of concrete, a puppy in his arms and a beautiful boy laughing with him in the sunshine.
So of course that's when everything goes to hell.
"Jared!" The door slams open and Greg is there, towering and thunderous.
Fuck.
"Sorry," he says hastily, shedding puppy and dignity as he scrambles up. "I'm sorry, there was no one in the store and"
"Inside," Greg interrupts. "Now."
"I'm sorry, this is my fault," says Jensen. "I wanted him to meet my dog. I didn't mean to"
"You're not the derelict here," says Greg. "But I wouldn't stick around." His voice promises unpleasantness, and Jared feels Jensen hesitate.
"Jensen," he says quietly, "you should go." Jensen meets his eyes, questioning: are you sure? "I'll see you tomorrow," he urges. Jensen cannot be here for this. He tries to show in his face that it'll be okay, that it's no big deal, and he's a shitty liar even without words, but Jensen looks like he understands.
"See you tomorrow," he says, and turns to untie Sadie.
Jared goes inside.
It's dark, and Jensen is at the beach in Florida with the people he called his friends. One of the girls Madison? has been angling to get him alone all week and he's tired of dodging her, so he figures he'll be straight with her about his lack of interest. It's cruel to string her along.
She's in the water, and even as he walks toward her through the shallows he doesn't want to go on, afraid his capacity to be direct will suffer from the shifting sand under the lapping waves, the obscurity of the water. Afraid of something else, too, some familiar dread, something that drags his feet and weights his limbs as he wades deeper and swims toward Madison.
Right before the pain hits, he registers that this has happened before. Then a searing agony pierces his right calf, above the two older scars, and a light shines up through the water, too bright to conceal, too brilliant and strange to explain away.
Madison screams.
Jensen grabs at his leg, sinks, thrashes, then:
A face. A knife. A murder.
A voice: "We are coming for you."
Certain knowledge, unshakeable, unassailable, a conviction in his bones, in his flesh: Number Three is dead.
Jensen is next.
He jerks awake, panting, sweat beading at his temples. After a moment of disoriented tension, Jensen relaxes back into his pillow, concentrating on getting his breathing under control.
Florida sucked.
After that dramatic start to his day, Jensen is glad to be headed to school, glad to be out of the house, facing his enemies, even if today they are only petty foes, desultory antagonists who can do him no lasting harm.
He almost hopes for Jake to try something. Legacy under tight discipline, he is spoiling for a fight.
He knows better. He does.
He needs to get out of the house before Jeff keeps him home on principle.
It's Week 2 on the schedule, so he has art this morning. Jared is there looking grey and tired. When Jensen sits down next to him, he makes a game effort at his usual greeting smile; it's a pale imitation. Jensen will take it for now, but at lunch they are having a serious conversation.
For now, he hisses, "Are you okay?" It's all he can trust himself with short of a full interrogation, and it's the most important question.
"Yeah." And that's a lie; Jensen can tell already when Jared is lying, not like it's a skill, picking up on that. But he can't do anything about it in class time.
Jensen missed a composition lesson that he basically covered in Florida last year, not to mention the notes sheet that Mrs. Adams sent home, so he's good to go on today's charcoal exercise. But when Jared asks, "Are you good?" he says, "Just go over it for me quick, make sure I get it?"
Maybe it'll help if Jared feels useful. And he explains it really well, and Jensen might be a little rusty. So it's not just for Jared, really.
At the bell, Jared says, "Lunch?" with this painfully hopeful expression, like he's half-expecting to be shut down.
"Lunch," confirms Jensen. This is not the triumphant return he hoped for. He guesses yesterday had something to do with that.
He's going to find out.
Jared is sitting under the tree when he gets there, back propped against the trunk, knees bent up in front of him.
"Hey," says Jensen, sitting down near him.
"Hey," says Jared. He's got his brown paper lunch bag all twisted up at the neck and dangling between his knees.
"So, for real," Jensen says as he opens his lunch bag, "you're not actually okay. I'm sorry," he says, at Jared's scowl, "but you're not. And it's probably none of my business, but..." he blows out a breath. "I feel responsible."
"Jensen," Jared begins, but Jensen cuts him off.
"I just, I want to apologize, I guess. I didn't realize."
Jared shakes his head sadly. "You didn't even it's, okay, first, it's not your fault. It's his." Jared spits the word out like something disgusting. "And second, you weren't supposed to realize." The end of that sentence comes out wobbly. "I wish you hadn't seen that."
Jensen's throat feels thick. "I Jared, what happened? Tell me it's none of my business again, if you want," he adds quickly, "I don't really have the right to ask, except, man, I'm your friend. I care what happens to you." It doesn't sound strange, saying that to Jared. It just sounds obvious.
Jared leans his head back against the trunk of the tree and closes his eyes. "It wasn't that bad," he begins after a moment, then cracks an eye open with a wry grin as Jensen starts to object to that framing. "No, really," he says. "In the grand scheme of getting yelled at by Greg, that was a drop in the bucket."
"This happens often?"
Jared sighs. "He really doesn't like me. My dad... had some weird ideas, and he associates me with him, I think. Probably thinks I'm bad for my mom." He's going for casual, but the hurt there runs deep. Jensen wants to... something. Hug him, maybe, but they're on the school ground, and he thinks it might be weird. "Anyway, he yells a lot, but he's not so bad, honestly. Lots of people have it worse than me." The last sentence comes out sounding like a mantra, well rehearsed and meaningless.
"I'm sorry," says Jensen. It's all he can think to say.
"Well. Thanks," says Jared. He shifts, stretching out his legs, and as he moves his shirt twists a little, riding up slightly. There's a bruise about the size of a fist just above his hip, new-purpled and dark.
"Jared," Jensen gets out, unthinkingly reaching out to push the shirt up further, get a look at the full extent of the damage.
Jared snatches the hem of his shirt back down and moves away, eyes on the ground.
"Jared. Does he hit you?"
Jared squeezes his eyes shut, looking profoundly uncomfortable, and Jensen doesn't even care, because he needs the truth, damn it, however he can get it. Someone is going down for this.
"You probably won't believe me," Jared says finally, "it's a textbook excuse, but... it really was an accident. He shoved me into the counter."
"By accident." Jensen's voice is flat with disbelief.
Jared makes a frustrated noise. "Of course he meant to shove me. But there was something on the floor and he tripped, he pushed me harder than he meant to." He meets Jensen's furious gaze with steadfast eyes. "He's a bastard, Jensen, I won't pretend he isn't, but he's never hit me. He almost never touches me at all if he can help it. He's all bark." A crooked excuse for a smile twists his mouth. "It's a hell of a bark, but... that's all it is."
It takes Jensen a few moments to process this, and then to find words. Eventually, he settles on, "You don't deserve any of it. You know that, right?"
Jared's smile unkinks a bit, turns soft; genuine. "I know that, yeah. But thanks."
Jensen doesn't ask about Jared's father.
Jared was worried, after Jensen saw the bruise, that Jensen was going to bring it up again, try to pursue the matter somehow. It was bad enough that he'd seen Greg angry with Jared, and even though the ensuing conversation wasn't as painful as Jared had anticipated (it did not, for instance, end with pity and distance and scorn), Jared was still concerned that it would affect the way Jensen saw him, spoke to him, treated him in the halls or class.
He apparently didn't need to worry. All the rest of the week, Jensen goes on not avoiding Jared, continues not to treat him like a fragile broken thing or something that should be stepped on and put out of its misery. Jared knows, he knows he has some self-esteem issues, but that's not the kind of thing you can just reason away, he's pretty sure. Not easily, not quickly, and not without evidence backing you up. You can't just assert your self-worth without any objective proof that you're worth anything. His dad didn't stick around, his stepdad thinks he's a useless nutjob son of a useless nutjob, his mom does love him but she's his mother, after all, and she can't or won't see what an asshole her new husband is, and almost nobody at this school has ever given him the benefit of the doubt about anything.
Jensen is different. Jensen makes him hope.
It's kind of terrifying.
On Friday at lunch, Jensen asks, "Are you busy tomorrow?"
"Um," says Jared intelligently. "Just homework. Why?"
"I was thinking maybe you could show me around. Just, you know, if you want to," he adds, like Jared is ever going to choose not to spend time with him.
"There's not much more than you've probably seen already," Jared says, then mentally kicks himself. Jensen will think he doesn't want to.
Jensen shrugs. "Haven't really seen much. But you don't have to"
"No, I want to," Jared cuts him off. "I just, I don't want to waste your time."
"Dude," says Jensen, looking at him with a kind of patient fondness, "since when does hanging out with your friend constitute wasting his time?"
"I wouldn't know," Jared says, a little bitterly. "Outcast, remember?"
"Well, take my word on it, then," Jensen tells him decisively. "Basically I just want to hang out with you. That a problem?"
Well, when he puts it like that. "No. Not at all."
"Okay, then." Jensen smiles brightly. "What if we start with lunch and go from there?"
"Um, okay."
"What are your thoughts on the Polish diner?"
Jared startles into a laugh. "I've actually never been there."
"Well, then. I get to show you something too. Meet there at 12?"
"Sure."
"Awesome." And Jensen sounds like he really means it. Warmth blooms in Jared's chest.
Then Jensen looks over Jared's shoulder and a flicker of anger passes over his face. He schools his features back to neutral almost immediately and murmurs, "Heads up. Jake." right before a smarmy voice calls out,
"What a great day. Isn't it a great day, guys?" There are grunts of affirmation, presumably from his lackeys. Jared deliberately doesn't turn around. He looks at Jensen instead; he has no idea what his own face is saying, but Jensen's is trying for steadfast and reassuring, which is more of a comfort than it should be, considering what's coming for them.
"The only thing that would make it better," Jake continues, "is if the aliens came and picked up the trash. Cleaned up our schoolyard a little. It's getting hard to walk without tripping over filth." Raucous laughter and hooting. "Bet they'd even like it." A hand lands on Jared's shoulder, heavy and gripping tight, and Jensen twitches like he wants to do something about it. But he keeps still. Smart.
"You would, wouldn't you?" Jake says, bending down and stage-whispering in Jared's ear so the onlookers can hear. "You know, with the probes and everything I bet it'd be a dream come true for you homos." He cranes his head around and peers into Jared's face. "You think that's where your dad went? I bet your dad was a homo too. An alien-loving homo."
"Don't talk about my dad," says Jared, shakily and against his better judgement.
"Aww, you hear that, guys? Fagalecki doesn't want me to talk about his dad." He leans in close again, his grip like iron on Jared's shoulder. "Who's gonna stop me, huh?"
"I am." Jensen, suddenly right there, grabs Jake's hand and does something that makes Jake let go in a hurry. Jared twists around in time to see Jensen fist a hand in Jake's shirt and shove him into the tree. "I don't give a shit what you think of me, or what you do to me, or what you say about me," Jensen says conversationally, "but leave Jared the fuck alone. He's worth ten of you, you craven asshole." He lets go of Jake, who stays where he is, possibly out of sheer astonishment. Jensen looks down at Jared. "Come on, let's go to the library."
Jared hurries to his feet and follows Jensen before Jake can muster his forces to retaliate.
"I hate to ask," says Jensen, once they're safely inside the school, on the way to the library.
"But aliens," Jared acknowledges. "Yeah. I'd ask too." He pauses, then just doesn't say anything else until they're in the library at the circulation desk. "Can we sign out a study room?" he asks. The teacher covering lunch pushes the binder over without a word, and Jared signs them into room 3.
Only when they're no longer at risk of being overheard does Jared relax a little. He flings himself into one of the chairs around the square table, and Jensen sits kitty-corner, turned toward Jared.
Jared sighs and rests his elbows on the table, putting his face in his hands. He can't look at Jensen while he talks about this. "My dad believed in aliens," he says, fast, ripping off the band-aid. "He spent all his free time researching. Had me totally convinced." Jensen doesn't say anything, but Jared would hear it if he got up and left, so he must still be listening. "It was... it was exciting, you know? 'The truth is out there.' I was in on this really awesome secret that no one else knew about or understood." He drags his hands down, but keeps his eyes on the table. "Then four years ago he disappeared. He was down in Texas, always said there was a lot going on there, lots to work from, and usually he took me and we'd, you know, visit my grandparents and have kind of a vacation, too. But it was during the school year, and" Jared has to stop to clear his throat. "We know he got as far as Dallas. They found his truck."
"Shit," says Jensen quietly.
"I never saw him again. My mom married Greg two years ago. I don't even think she realizes how much he" Jared cuts himself off. If he keeps talking, he's going to start crying, and he will be mortified. He focuses on tracing the grain of the tabletop with one fingernail. Jensen is quiet. "Anyway," Jared says finally, "everyone at this school thinks I'm crazy or an idiot, plus, well." He feels himself start to go red, a dull flush of shame. He'd almost forgotten amid explaining the alien nonsense. "It's true, what he said. I'm gay."
There's a silence. It's not that long, but Jared can't take it. He looks up and meets Jensen's eyes.
"Okay, I just want to say right off," says Jensen, gaze steady, "none of that sounds like anything to be ashamed of." Jared just stares at him. "I mean," he clarifies, "obviously you're allowed to feel what you feel, but Jake is a mean son of a bitch, and he's wrong."
Jared is almost speechless with disbelief. "Dude," he gets out, "weren't you listening? Everything he says about me is true. Don't you get that?"
"No, I mean, he's just wrong. His whole premise is flawed." When Jared continues to stare, Jensen starts over. "Okay. He's working from the assumption that loving and believing in your father which basically everyone does, by the way is something only idiots do, and that being gay makes you dirty and sub-human, and that both of those things make it okay to treat you like shit. And it's probably not cool if I just walk into your life and start fighting all your battles for you, but, god, Jared, I wanted to." Jensen is Jared's never seen him look like this before. "I can't afford to get expelled, or I probably would have broken his face. I'm sorry."
Jared shakes his head. "Why the hell are you apologising to me?"
Jensen shrugs. "I don't wanna be the guy who thinks you can't handle your own life, man. You didn't ask for my help. I just, I couldn't sit there and let you take that."
"Yeah, about that," says Jared. "Holy shit. I want to thank you, but I'm still not convinced you know what you're getting into."
"I can take care of myself," Jensen points out, then winces. "Sorry, I didn't mean"
"Whatever." Jared waves him away. "Point being: thank you. But like you said, Jake's mean. And he is in fact a mean son of a cop, specifically the Sheriff. So. You might want to watch your six, is all I'm saying."
"What does he have against you?" Jensen asks. "I seriously don't get why he hates you so much. He actually warned me off associating with you, did you know that?"
The way Jensen says it, like of course he would never actually heed such advice, makes Jared unexpectedly and suddenly happy.
"I did not know that." He takes a deep breath, considering. "There is a reason, actually, but it's kind of a long story, and I'd rather not get into it. Plus the bell's about to ring," he points out. It's not actually that long a story, but it's pretty embarrassing, involving as it does his former crush on Jake (now inexplicable in hindsight) and the way they ended up alone in the locker room after gym that one time, and the fact that Jake is now mortally afraid that Jared will someday tell someone that Jake Abel kissed him. It would be kind of funny if it didn't suck so much, because Jared is fully aware that no one would ever believe him if he did tell.
"Okay," says Jensen. "Fair."
"Listen," says Jared, as they stand up in preparation for the bell, "I'm sorry you keep getting dragged into this shit because of me."
"Don't apologize," says Jensen. "It's not your fault everyone around you is an asshole. Anyway, I meant what I said: I seriously don't care what he thinks of me. If being friends with you means taking a little flak, then so be it."
"How are you even possible?" Jared says before he can stop himself. "People aren't this nice."
"I'm not nice," says Jensen. "I'm just selfish."
Before Jared can ask what that means, the bell rings.
Part 2