The Rise and Fall... Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Voyeur of utter destruction (as beauty)
Jared meets Donna Ackles for the first time at six in the morning on November twenty-fourth. He hasn’t been home all night, even with the assurance that Jensen’s life isn’t in danger and that he will be called if anything happens.
The visiting hours in the ICU are very restricted and Jared has spent the night dozing between them, spending twenty minutes every two hours with Jensen. As worried as he feels when he’s with Jensen, as guilty, both of these feelings get engulfed in anxiety every time he has to leave the room, like his presence can prevent Jensen’s state from deteriorating.
The previous evening, Dr. Reinhardt had come to see him around eight. She’d sat with him and asked a lot of questions about Jensen’s general state over the last month, nodding and frowning and taking notes. Then, she’d told him that they had done another head scan and the brain swelling hadn’t gotten worse. It would take some time for it to subside completely, she had said as she patted him on the back. “This is good news, Mr. Padalecki.”
He just wants Jensen to open his eyes and look at him. When he’d asked Dr. Reinhardt about what kind of brain damage could have been done, she’d refused to tell him. “I don’t want you to get upset over something we can’t know about for sure until Mr. Ackles regains consciousness. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Maybe she’s right. It hadn’t stopped Jared from imagining all sorts of horrible scenarios as the night went by.
Misha has been the one keeping contact with the Ackles family. Mackenzie and Donna managed to catch a red eye flight and he was the one to pick them up at the airport. Jared is vaguely aware that Misha has arranged for both women to stay at Jensen’s place. He’d called Jared from the airport, telling him that they preferred to come to the hospital first.
When Jensen’s mother enters the waiting room, followed by Mackenzie, Jared braces himself, ready to take the blame of not having been there for Jensen, but the middle aged woman looks at him with affection, smiling sadly, and takes him into her arms, hugging him close.
“Nice to meet you, Jared,” she says before letting him go. She takes him by the shoulders and looks at him. “Wish it was under better circumstances.”
Mackenzie is suddenly next to him, one of her hands rubbing his back. Her eyes are puffy and red and when she speaks, her voice is uneasy, gruff. “Hey, how are you doing?”
“I’m sorry,” is all Jared manages to say before he bursts into tears like a freaking giant baby, unable to help himself, and this time, it is Mac who hugs him tight.
“Come on. None of this is your fault.”
“Should’ve been there,” Jared hiccups. “I didn’t know. How bad it could get. I’m so, so sorry.”
Someone is tugging on his arm, and he raises his head to look at Donna Ackles through the mist of his tears. Her lips are reduced to a thin white line, reminding him of Jensen whenever he’s annoyed or angry.
“Okay, Jared, I don’t know you, but I know what it’s like to be close to Jensen and you have to stop this right now. Guilt is going to eat you alive. No one and nothing is to blame except Jensen’s illness. I want you to get your head around that. Do I make myself clear?”
Jared nods and wipes his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. Misha suggests sitting down which is kind of a good idea since Jared’s legs are about to buckle. Donna and Mackenzie know everything there is to know. They both look exhausted. Donna explains that her husband couldn’t make it, to which Mackenzie reacts immediately.
“No, he could make it. My father has trouble with hospitals and well… Jensen being in them.”
“Mac, don’t start.”
“I don’t blame him, mom. I know it’s hard for dad. I just wish he was here with us.”
“I know, honey.”
The call from the nurses’ station announcing the beginning of the visiting period startles all of them. “Only two people are allowed back at a time,” Jared says. “You go.”
“Okay,” Misha says as soon are Mackenzie and Donna leave the room. “Do you want me to take you home? You can shower and sleep for a few hours. They won’t take Jensen off the respirator before tonight.”
“No, I wanna stay,” Jared replies in a dull voice.
“Yeah, I knew you would say that,” Misha sighs, and then produces a bag seemingly out of nowhere. “Brought you a change of clothes and your personal stuff if you wanna shower. There’s a bathroom for ICU families on this floor.”
Jared nods slowly. “Thank you Misha. For being there and… you know.”
Misha smiles. “I know.”
::: :::
The day drags by. Nobody talks much. Misha spends most of it at work. Mac sleeps on one of the leather couches for the better part of the afternoon, tucked in a ball under a rough hospital blanket. Dr. Reinhardt isn’t supposed to be back until the evening because she wants to be there when Jensen has his ventilator tube removed.
Around four o’clock, it’s time for another visit. Mackenzie is still sleeping so Jared accompanies Donna. It’s the first time they’ve gone together -he went with Mac earlier, but not with Donna, and he feels a little intimidated. A nurse is waiting for them at the entrance of Jensen’s room. She whispers. Everybody whispers in the ICU, even with the loud noise of the machines.
“We started to cut down the sedative dosage earlier this afternoon, so he may seem a little more awake to you. We’re monitoring him closely to make sure there is no abnormal activity in his brain. He may fight his ventilation tube even if he still seems unconscious. Just call me if that happens.”
Donna rolls her eyes as she enters the room. “He hates the ventilator.” She says fondly, as if Jensen is a little kid who doesn’t like broccoli.
She sits on the chair near the bed and takes Jensen’s hand. There is no sign that he’s more aware of his surroundings. “Hey, baby,” she says and runs her fingers through Jensen’s hair, carefully avoiding the wires. “We’re here. I’m with Jared.”
Jared shrugs, feeling like the world’s clumsiest giant as he goes to stand on the other side of the bed. “Hey, Jensen.”
“He’s still pretty out of it,” Donna murmurs without turning her eyes away from Jensen’s pale face.
“Yeah.”
“I just hope it won’t be like last time,” Donna adds.
“Was it… was it bad?”
“Yes it was.”
“Can’t the doctors do anything about this… status epilepticus stuff?”
Donna smiles, but her eyes remain serious. “They did all they could, but the kind of epilepsy Jensen has makes him vulnerable to this because the frontal lobe is involved. First time it happened, he’d been diagnosed for less than a year. His father was with him at the time. He was easily stabilised as soon as he got to the hospital but still, it was scary. Second time though, two years ago, Jensen was alone. His… boyfriend-“
She looks at Jared, biting her lower lip as if she’s said something wrong.
“Yeah, Matt. He told me about him.”
“Well, Matt found him, just like you did. That time, we almost lost him. He had to be put under general anesthesia to get the seizure to stop and huh… he had this weakness on the entire left side of his body when he came back.
“Brain damage,” Jared whispers in a thin voice.
“Yeah but he… He recuperated completely,” Donna adds. “I didn’t want to upset you, Jared. But still, I prefer to be as realistic as possible under the circumstances. It’s a thing I’ve learned over the years.”
“He’s gonna be alright,” Jared says because he can’t think any differently.
Jensen opens his eyes briefly then, and it’s so sudden both Jared and Donna are startled for a moment.
“Never liked when I talked about you behind your back, huh, Jay?” Donna asks softly.
Jared waits for another movement, a sound, anything, but all Jensen gives them is a frown that lasts less than a second. Then, it’s already time to leave the room. Jared waits for Donna to go out before he presses a light kiss to Jensen’s forehead. The young man is shaken by a soft shiver, then it’s over.
::: :::
Jensen is standing in the kitchen of his parent’s house in Richardson. His mother is angry at him, shaking a bunch of paper sheets in front of his face. He doesn’t understand. He thought she was mad about the lip ring, but then, the lip ring was before… way before.
“Mr. Morrisson is very disappointed in you, Jensen. He says you won’t be able to finish your work on time.”
Jensen wants to answer, but his words stay locked in his throat, and he falls on the floor, and there must be a fire somewhere because the smell of smoke is everywhere.
His mother bends over him, her pearl necklace shining strangely in the daylight. “Why do I even care? You won’t listen to anybody but your own selfish self. It’s a thing I’ve learned over the years.”
Then he’s floating. No house, no ground or sky or up or down, and he’s cold, and something touches him in the dark, and he shivers.
Do you have a death wish, Jensen?
Chris sings, voice deep and slurry with whisky. “When the kids had killed the man I had to break up the band.”
No, it’s not my fucking fault, Jensen screams, but he can’t hear his own voice, and his throat is swelling with words unsaid. He’s choking. Can’t breathe.
We just want to understand what happened to you at school. You had a seizure, Jensen. Are you on any drugs?
NO! He articulates silently. I can’t breathe! Please help me. Can somebody just help me?
“Mr. Ackles? Jensen? Please calm down. Can you hear me?”
He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. He’s… Something in his throat. Has to take it out, cough it out, puke it out.
“You got him, Cat?”
“He has the strength of a kitten. Don’t worry about me.”
“Jensen? Hey, Jensen. Open your eyes. Look at me.”
The voice is so loud and clear and he wants to listen to it. Something is pushing on his chest. His heart beats hard and painfully. He can’t fight anymore. He’s held back by something, someone. Tired, so tired.
::: :::
Dim lights. The weight of his body on the bed. The noise of the ventilator in rhythm with the movement of his chest. The nurse speaks of a seizure and hospital, and he tries to focus but it’s so hard. He keeps drifting off until he feels a sharp pain on his nail.
Dr. Reinhardt’s face blocks the light. “… Cough real hard, as hard as you can. Do you understand?”
Jensen nods. He can keep his eyes open without too much effort. He’s gripping the sheets and bracing himself. He knows it’s going to hurt.
“On three, alright? One, two, three.”
He coughs, feeling pulled forward as something rips his throat, the burning sensation so intense it’s like someone’s tearing his lung out from the inside by way of his mouth.
He heaves, coughs again, and then…
Can’t breathe. He struggles weakly, falling back on the mattress and something is pulled around his head to cover his mouth and nose.
“Yes, that’s it, breathe, Jensen. Focus on breathing.”
His eyes are clenched shut and he’s sweating. His legs jerk helplessly. Breathe.
His chest rises slowly. That’s it. The air is cold and feels good going down his throat and into his lungs. He relaxes on the bed, not daring to move, to do anything that could bring the panic back and prohibit him from breathing.
“Look at me, Jensen.”
He does. Dr. Reinhardt is still there, eyes looking too big behind black rimmed glasses. “Do you know where you are?”
He mumbles a raspy “hospital” that sounds strange in the oxygen mask, then adds, because his tongue feels like it’s twice its usual size. “Water.”
“He’s talking,” Dr. Reinhardt says, smiling like it’s some kind of miracle.
::: :::
Jared is aware that he must be getting on everybody’s nerves. He can’t help himself. A nurse had come in ten minutes ago to tell them that the removal of the tube had gone without any problems and that Jensen was slowly waking up from the sedation, but they still couldn’t go to see him, not until Dr. Reinhardt had finished performing a neurological exam. Jared had asked if it looked like Jensen had suffered any damage, but the nurse wouldn’t answer him.
So he’s pacing while Misha, Mackenzie and Donna sit close to each other, as if he’s doing some sort of performance and they’re spectators.
“He’s going to be okay,” Jared states for the fifth time in less than fifteen minutes.
“Yeah,” Mackenzie mumbles, but she’s awfully pale under the yellowish light.
Her mother is silent, gazing at an undetermined point in front of her. Misha makes a discreet motion toward Jared, silently inviting him to sit down before the tension in the room becomes unbearable.
Then, Dr. Reinhardt walks into the room and it’s like time comes to a halt. Jared is holding his breath, reading the woman’s face for some kind of clue about Jensen’s condition. She has a light smile tugging at her lips, and that’s good, isn’t it?
“He’s doing good,” she says.
Mackenzie and Donna stand up and join Jared, expectant looks on their faces.
“Good like…” Jared starts eagerly.
“Good like there is no signs of brain damage so far. The neurological test is normal if we take the sedation into consideration. He responds well to stimulation, there is no sign of abnormal weakness whatsoever and he’s well oriented. We’ll have to keep him under close observation for the next few days and I’ve scheduled an MRI for tomorrow morning, but so far it doesn’t seem like there will be any significant after effects.
“Okay,” Jared agrees eagerly, a nervous laugh escaping before he can rein it in.
Mackenzie bursts into tears next to him, while Donna lets out a hiccupping sigh.
“Can we see him?” Jared asks.
::: :::
The nurse has replaced his oxygen mask with a nasal canula. He’s sitting, lying against the mattress, body heavy and aching. There is a water glass on the nightstand in front of him with a straw resting in it and damn it, he’s thirsty, but he can’t bring himself to gather the energy and coordination necessary to pick it up. The machines beep around him. He tries to stay awake and keep track of what’s happening, of everything Dr. Reinhardt has told him, but his mind wanders on and off.
“Jensen, hey.”
He turns his head slowly to follow the voice. His eyes hurt, as they always do after a serious seizure. Jared is there, looking tired and scared, his hair falling in dull bangs in front of his eyes.
“Hey,” he says, but it comes out like a slurred and thin, “heeeeeey”.
“I’m… How’re you feeling?” Jared walks slowly towards him and sits carefully on the chair near the bed.
“High,” Jensen says, trying to smile, but it’s way too difficult to maintain it.
“I… fuck, Jensen, I…” Jared clears his throat and swallows loudly. He’s on the verge of crying and Jensen can’t take it. He just can’t.
“Hey, m’alright, Jare.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when it happened. Should’ve been.”
There it goes. It’s Matt all over again, and Jensen wants to feel frustrated, and annoyed, but it’s so hard to try and work around the thick fog covering his mind.
And he’s thirsty.
“C’n you help me with the glass of water?” He asks, his mouth already watering at the idea. He’ll worry about his dignity later.
Jared nods eagerly and brings the glass to his mouth until his lips can close around the straw. And damn if it isn’t the best water Jensen has ever had. He closes his eyes and swallows.
When he opens them, strangely, the straw isn’t in his mouth anymore and Jared is holding his hands.
“Wha’?”
“You drifted off for a couple of minutes.”
“Sorry.”
Jared presses his hand tighter, eyes shining bright, and Jensen thinks maybe sleeping is his best defense right now.
“Did I… hallucinate it, or is my mother here?”
“She’s here. Mackenzie’s here too. They kind of sent me to tell you so you wouldn’t be shocked.”
“That’s stupid.”
Jared blushes. “We had to call your family. Dr. Reinhardt told me she explained to you what happened.”
“No, I mean… Yeah… I don’t blame you or… Fuck, m’too tired to talk.”
“You don’t have to,” Jared quickly says. “You need to rest,”
Jensen couldn’t agree more. Already, all hid coherent thoughts are dissolving in his valium stupor. “Saved my life,” He slurs, trying to smile at Jared. Colors are bright, Jared’s smell is agreeably familiar and comforting, and if Jensen lets go, lets everything go, he doesn’t have to feel anything anymore. Not really.
“I’m so relieved you’re okay,” Jared murmurs, lowering the bed rail.
Jensen looks at him through heavy eyelids and keeps smiling, or whatever his mouth is doing right now. Jared sits closer to the bed, enough to rest his head on the mattress near Jensen’s shoulders. He puts his arm around Jensen’s waist.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No… Feels good,” Jensen says, because it does. His boyfriend is warm and heavy against him.
“Gonna stay here until they throw me out of the room,” Jared says. “Just wanna feel you close to me.”
Something in Jared’s voice gets to Jensen, and the embryo of an idea, of a thought, starts to form in his mind. He tries to catch it lazily but it’s too late and he succumbs to his medicated sleep.
::: :::
It takes two more days for Jensen to start to feel like himself again, two more days before the enormity of what has happened finally sinks in.
He sleeps or dozes most of the time during those two days. His doctor doesn’t want to entirely take him off the Valium too soon and his body is slowly recuperating from the extended seizure episode. He has a private room in the neurology department -his health insurance costs a fortune due to his medical condition, but it has its upside. He’s poked at, asked the same questions over and over again, is dragged on a gurney to have his head scanned two times. There is always someone with him - Mac, his mother, Jared, sometimes a combination of them. Misha comes with Vicky once, his father calls twice a day and he receives this gigantic flower arrangement from the literature department.
During those two days, nobody talks much because he can’t keep a conversation going for more than five minutes, can’t concentrate on anything more than the bare necessities. He knows what happened to him even if he doesn’t remember much after taking a taxi from Umaine after his meeting with Morrisson.
Sunday morning, Dr. Reinhardt comes to see him early in the morning. He feels like his mind is clearer even if his body is still sluggish. They talk for a long time. She speaks about stress and anxiety and the danger of experiencing another episode of status epilepticus. He knows all that, knows his epilepsy will most probably kill him one day, sooner rather than later. Still, his doctor wants to introduce a new medication, a drug traditionally used to treat anxiety and psychosis that has recently been discovered to be effective as an anti-epileptic as well, showing promising results for the kind of epilepsy that’s known to be drug resistant. Jensen doesn’t get his hopes too high. “Promising results” can be translated as “might work if we’re lucky” but hey, what’s another pill to take with his usual cocktail?
He’s then given the number to a private nursing agency that works with chronically ill people to provide a surveillance service. It can go from a daily call to extended home care. Dr. Reinhardt has already put in a call to the agency and insists that he use the service. “Let’s not fool ourselves here, Jensen. You’re riding the line of functional epilepsy. You live alone. Even if you take every precaution possible, you’re at high risk of suffering the consequences of your seizures.”
Jensen agrees, even if it’s just to get Dr. Reinhardt to change the subject. He has a lot of thinking to do, that much he knows.
He asks if he’ll be released soon, pestering the staff so much that his doctor agrees to let him go home the next day if he will give her the assurance he won’t be left alone for long periods for the next week or so, which isn’t a problem since his mother won’t go back to Richardson until he kicks her out of his apartment. Jensen doesn’t like the idea of depending on people so much, but he can’t bear the thought of staying in the hospital any longer. Last time he’d been admitted for a status epilepticus, he’d stayed in the hospital for three weeks because of the consequences of the seizure. Those three weeks are still to this day the worst period of his life and he does whatever he can not to think about them. He needs out, the sooner the better.
Dr. Reinhardt signs the release paper for the following day on the condition, of course, that he doesn’t have another epileptic episode before then. She puts him on strict rest for two weeks, with a progressive return to work after that -if he still has a job - and schedules him an appointment at her office. When she finally leaves the room, Jensen’s exhausted. He wants to go back to sleep, to the sweet oblivion of the drugs, but he can’t reach it.
Not enough drugs anymore. And the last few weeks come back to hit him like a slap in the face, all the messed-up things Jared had put up with until he’d finally administered a freaking valium suppository in his convulsing boyfriend’s ass and suffered through twenty-four hours of not knowing how his boyfriend would be when he woke up. Jared, who so carefully avoids looking at the urine collection bag hanging on the bottom of Jensen’s bed so as not to embarrass him. Jared, who now speaks to him in a too soft, too careful voice, like Jensen could break just from hearing a harsh tone.
And why fool himself? He’s that breakable. How could Jared see him any other way? Toward the end of his hospitalisation two years ago, Matt’s way of looking at him had become unbearable, the pity and concern practically pouring off of him. It had reached its breaking point when Matt had told him he was looking for another job so he could be closer to home even though he’d dreamed of working with the law firm that had hired him ever since he’d started college.
How would a relationship ever work if one of the parties had to sacrifice everything for the other? And Jensen, who’d been that other -how was he supposed to live with that?
He does falls asleep, after a while, only to dream of an empty road in the middle of the night, split by a yellow line on which he walks. Alone.
::: :::
“Jensen!”
“What?”
“You’re falling asleep. It’s your turn to play.”
“Huh. Okay. Wait, I got a word… Oh, yeah, if this doesn’t win me the game…”
Jensen takes all the letters from his slot and pretends to read aloud while putting them on the board. “pain-in-the-ass-little…”
“Shut up!” Mackenzie replies, scrambling all the letters on the board until no word is visible anymore. “I get it. Scrabble sucks.”
She leans back on her chair and sighs, looks at Jensen from under her lashes, all grave and serious all of sudden.
It’s Sunday night, almost seven o’clock, and the hospital wing is quiet. Jensen is in bed, leaning against the headboard in a sitting position. All he has left is an IV line to keep a vein open, just in case. His Foley catheter has been taken off-the burn is still there, though, god he hates it. He’s almost ready to go. One last night and then he’s out of here.
He has insisted so much on being released and he now wonders what’s so great about going home when he’s barely able to walk by himself, with his mother hovering around him constantly. He sighs, closes his eyes.
“Hey, you’re drifting off again,” Mackenzie says softly. “I should leave you to rest.”
“No, stay. If I fall asleep now I’ll be wide awake at one in the morning and it’ll suck big time.”
He’s lying. He would sleep through until morning. He’s still so tired. But Mackenzie is catching an early flight tomorrow morning and it’s evident she wants to spend as much time as she can with him.
Mackenzie rolls the table away without bothering to put the scrabble game back in its box. She drags her chair closer and begins to play with the hem of the sheet jutting out of the bed.
“Wish I didn’t have to go,” she murmurs in a small voice, and she looks so young suddenly it kind of crushes Jensen’s heart a little. “Mom treats me like I’m still ten years old.”
“Come on. You have your photography project to work on and you barely had time to go back to Texas before you had to come back here.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I know,” Jensen cuts off before they start talking about life and death and love and all those things he has so much trouble dealing with. “But you won’t miss anything. You know how impossible I am whenever I’m like this. Mom is doing you a favor.”
“Maybe you and Jared can come home for Christmas?” she asks hopefully.
“I don’t… Jared’s parents are coming back on Christmas so I don’t think he’ll want to spend it away from them.”
Besides, I don’t know if we’ll still be together at Christmas, Jensen thinks. Seeing the way Mackenzie all but pouts, he adds, “But maybe I will.”
“No. You should spend the Holidays with him.”
“Really?”
“Can’t you see how worried he is about you, how much he loves you? This guy… Promise me you’ll never let him go.”
“I can’t make that kind of promise,” Jensen replies with irritation because he knows Mac is thinking about Matt. Hell, he is thinking about Matt.
His sister knows him way too well.
“You can promise me you won’t be as stupid as last time,” Mackenzie snaps.
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Mackenzie can be stubborn. It’s a family trait. Still, Jensen can’t indulge her. Some wounds never really heal -doesn’t matter that you were the one inflicting them on yourself in the first place. Sometimes, the best you can do is put a Bandaid over them and pretend they don’t exist.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I’m… I’ve been so scared of what could have happened to you and I kept thinking about last time and…” Mackenzie shrugs and waves her hand in the air dismissively.
“It’s okay. I get it. How’s mom doing?”
Change of subject. Great tactic, Jensen. Very smooth.
“You know how she is - cleaning your place and cooking like her life depends on it. She also went shoping yesterday; bought you a couple of shirts.”
“Jesus.”
Mackenzie smiles. “One of them is pink. I mean, she says it’s “salmon”, but it’s definitely pink.”
Jensen groans and rearranges himself on the bed. “Oh man. How long is she going to stay?”
“Well, if you let her, probably forever.”
“I’m screwed.”
“It’s been hard for her,” Mackenzie says more seriously. “And I mean, since you left Richardson.”
“Here we go.”
“Okay, I’ll shut up. I swear. Just… try to be nice to her, alright?”
They’re interrupted by an orderly bringing Jensen a cup of Jello and some cookies. Classic hospital snack. He gives Mackenzie the cookies. As tight as his throat feels right now, he’s not even sure he can get away with eating the Jello. After they’re done, his sister settles next to him on the bed for a few minutes, laying her blond head on Jensen’s shoulder. He lets her get away with it.
::: :::
Early Monday morning, Jensen is sitting in the chair near his bed. He’s dressed and shaved, his bag is packed. He’s waiting for his mother to come pick him up. Frustrated and impatient, he fights the sleep that’s trying to pull him under. It’s taken all his energy to drag himself to the bathroom and get ready. Twice he’s had to sit on the closed toilet lid to fight off a dizzy spell.
He hates nothing more than feeling his body’s betrayal. Maybe he should be used to it by now, but he feels the same way every time.
“Hey, ready to go?”
Jensen jumps in surprise. He must have dozed off. Again. Jared is in the doorway, holding onto the handles of a wheelchair.
“What are you doing here? My mom was supposed to come get me after dropping Mac at the airport.”
“My fault. I insisted.”
Jared smiles and winks at him, going for enthusiasm, but his features are pale, tensed by exhaustion and worry.
“Jare. Come on. You’re missing work again.”
“Don’t worry about that, okay? My boss relocated a social worker from the homeless community program who has been covering my case load since Thursday. Everything is okay.” Jared says as he gets the wheelchair closer and sits on it, facing Jensen.
“Everything is not okay,” Jensen snaps. “You can’t stop living because I had a seizure, Jared.”
“Hey, don’t be an idiot. I wanted to be here. Nobody forced me. Besides, it wasn’t only a seizure, Jensen. So? Ready to go or not?”
Jared’s smile has disappeared from his face, replaced by a darker expression Jensen can’t quite figure out. He doesn’t even have the energy to try.
“I don’t need the wheelchair,” he says, standing up slowly.
“Hospital policy.”
Jensen puts on his coat, losing his balance for a second while trying to slide his arm into the sleeve, and Jared’s right there next to him, concern visible all over his face, his arm already supporting Jensen by the waist. He can’t help it, the toll of the last few days suddenly takes its hideous hold on him and he snaps, pushing Jared away. “Damn it, I can stand on my own, Jared!”
Jared immediately backs off, head bowed like a small kid caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “Sorry. I thought you were going to fall.”
“I’m fine.”
He regrets immediately his harsh words and feels a blush of shame rising on his cheeks. He doesn’t apologise, though, just finishes dressing himself and then sits stubbornly in the wheelchair while Jared takes his bag.
“We’re gonna have to stop at the drugstore,” Jensen says. “New prescription.”
“No problem,” Jared answers very softly.
The ride to the hospital entrance is accomplished in silence. Jensen hates the looks people give him. He knows what he looks like: a poor man crumpled in a wheelchair, looking like he’s just come back from the brink of death, face white and deep blue circle under his eyes, blinking away tears of irritation because of the crude light.
After a moment, he just closes his eyes until the cold outside air hits him, triggering a violent shiver that runs through his body.
“You okay?” Jared asks.
“Never been better,” Jensen mumbles, burying his face in his scarf.
“I’ll go get the car.”
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t protest that he can walk through the parking lot, because he knows he can’t. It seems to take forever before Jared comes back. The cold wind is hitting his face, making him feel numb and sick. Weak. He wants to sleep. Sleep for a long time and forget everything that has happened to him during the last few days.
The heat in the car is turned to the maximum but he can’t shake off the cold sensation stiffening his body and making his teeth chatter. Jared gives him quick, concerned looks when he thinks Jensen won’t notice.
“We need to talk,” Jared says suddenly, like he’s been restraining himself until he couldn’t anymore.
“Talk about what? Jared, I know it’s a lot to deal with. I know it must’ve been hard for you and I’m sorry, really sorry for having put you through this. But I’m… I can’t have this kind of conversation right now.”
“I…. that wasn’t…”
“Unless you want to tell me that you can’t deal with all this -which, I would totally understand by the way, I don’t want to talk about my epilepsy or my freaking grand mal or my family.”
Jensen isn’t quite sure where all of this is coming from, but it’s like he can’t shut up, like every dark thought he’s been having since he woke up to find himself intubated has been bottled up and he can’t keep it inside of him anymore.
“I don’t want to leave you,” Jared says. “That’s not what I was going to tell you, Jensen.”
Then, suddenly, all the tenderness and sweetness is gone from Jared’s voice and he hits the steering wheel, hard, his face getting redder by the second. “Damn it! Why are you…”
“Why am I what?”
“You could’ve died! You could’ve died and I… I’m trying to do what I think you want me to do, trying to act like that’s no big deal but it is, damn it. “
“Can’t you see how screwed up our relationship is?” Jensen snaps back, and maybe that’s what he’s been thinking all along, that’s what made him so depressed and short-tempered at the hospital. He just hasn’t been able to face it.
“What?”
“I mean, it started all wrong. You know it. We’ve been together for less than three months and you’ve had to deal with my freaking epilepsy almost daily. That’s all there’s been between us. You’ve had to take care of me over and over again, fuck. You missed work, you had to deal with my family, my friends, and… and-“
“Stop it.”
“No, I won’t. You wanted to talk. Let’s talk. Let’s talk about Jared and Jensen’s fucked up relationship. Just because you’re a social worker doesn’t mean that you have to find it normal.”
“Jensen.”
“I’m not one of your battered women who needs your help. That’s not what I want to be.”
“I know that! How can you think…? Where does that come from?”
Jared stops the car in the parking lot of the pharmacy. His face is beet red, his eyes wide with anger and incomprehension.
“Where can we go from here? Tell me,” Jensen says, trying to swallow back the tears swelling up in his throat. “I’m… I’m just a fucking mess. I’m a mess, you understand me? There’s nothing more to say. I’ll probably die before I reach my thirties if I go on like this. It was stupid to think I could have a go at a normal life, and I never wanted you to be caught up in it.”
“Jensen, don’t say that.” Jared’s tone is almost pleading now. “Stop. Right now, okay?”
“What’s the matter? Is it because I’m telling you the truth?”
“Listen to me,” Jared says in an almost menacing voice.
“No, you listen to me!” Jensen practically yells.
“Jensen, damn it!” Jared screams louder, all the while undoing his safety belt.
He turns toward Jensen like he wants to launch himself on him. On instinct, Jensen tries to pull back and when Jared’s hands flies out of nowhere to cup his face, he freezes in place, not liking what he sees in Jared’s eyes.
“I’ve listened to you, now it’s your turn,” Jared murmurs. “I know what you’re trying to do. You want to push me away but it won’t work. However hard you try, I’m not going to leave you.”
“Shut up.” Jensen fights weakly in Jared’s embrace, lowers his eyes so he at least won’t have to look at him head on.
“It’s the truth. I love you. Right now, you’re sick, and you’re scared, and I get it.”
“I’m not fucking scared,” Jensen snarls, knowing he’s lying through his teeth.
“And I’m scared too,” Jared goes on without missing a beat. “And we’re both exhausted and life just sucks right now. I don’t want to hear another negative word out of you. You need to get better, then we’ll spend the rest of our lives talking if that’s what you want.”
On these words, Jared snatches the prescription out of Jensen’s shaking hands and gets out of the car. Jensen can’t think or move or do anything other than digest what has just happened.
::: :::
Jared keeps it together until he’s out of Jensen’s view. When he finally turns the corner of the drugstore, he leans on the wall and swears loudly, hitting the back of his head against the bricks.
“Wanted to talk to you about Jeff,” he murmurs to the freezing morning.
It was bad timing anyway. Jensen needs him right now.
Jared can do this.
He can.
::: :::
A/N: The song Christian is singing in Jensen’s “dream” is Ziggy Stardust, from the David Bowie album The rise and fall of Ziggy Stardust and the spiders from Mars.
Chapter 10