Fic: A Mile in My Shoes, a Lifetime in My Head (3/6)
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Jared sat at a table in the craft tent, holding an extra-large, steaming coffee between his chilled hands. He breathed in the warmth and the rich aroma, closing his eyes and giving himself permission to simply savor this moment. He exhaled slowly and then took a sip, letting the coffee's dark, creamy flavor spread over his tongue. It was quiet here for the moment - the crew was off filming Jensen in the graveyard of the week. Jared had an hour to relax before heading off with the second crew for some close-ups and reaction shots. So here he was, savoring a fresh latte and musing about life.
Life was so good right now. He knew he was fucking lucky as hell. He had a top billed, starring role in a television show. He had a loving family and wonderful friends. He wasn't too hard to look at, and was healthy and strong. He had enough money to live very comfortably. And he had Jensen. His heart felt like it clenched when he thought about how much he loved his boyfriend. Jensen was so gorgeous, so talented, such a fantastic mix of earthy and sophisticated. He was smart and snarky and sensual, and he loved Jared. Jared shook his head - he was always amazed when he thought about Jensen wanting to be with him. Fucking lucky indeed.
He took another sip as he braced himself to keep going. Everything was going so well.
Except . . . it kinda wasn't.
Jared closed his eyes and rubbed them. They felt scratchy, and his fingers pulled at his dry lids. Something was up with Jensen. Jared was willing to bet anything that they were okay, that it wasn't their relationship going awry. Whatever it was, was affecting the relationship, sure. But the relationship itself wasn't the root issue.
He just didn't know what was the root issue. And Jensen refused to talk about it. At all. He simply said everything was fine and told Jared he loved him and went into the other room. Or went to bed. Or went somewhere.
Jared wasn't buying it anymore. Jensen meant everything to him, and something was wrong, and Jared wanted to make it better. That's how he worked. Jensen's constant denial and evasion were slowly amping up Jared's concern and anxiety, and he wanted - needed - to dig out the problem and excise it.
"Hey, Jared," said a lilting female voice. A young woman sat down at the table with her own steaming cup. Her brown hair was cropped to her earlobes, which were pierced three times each and ornamented with little silver hoops. She wore a sensible fleece over a rainbow-striped turtleneck with jeans and the ubiquitous duck boots the crew favored for the sloppy Canadian mud and snow. Her blue eyes sparkled at Jared as she drank from her cup and sighed in pleasure. "Don't you love a nice hot beverage mid-morning? I do love a quick break for a fresh cuppa around now."
"I sure do, Lynnie. Only it's coffee for me." He raised his cup to her and drank. "Always a pleasure to share a cup with you, though!" Whenever Jared wasn't filming at this hour, he'd come here for a quick cup and, often as not, meet Lynnie doing the same. They'd met during his first week on-set, and she'd been the first crew member who hadn't made a big deal about either his age or his height. Mutual respect had grown into friendship, and she was one of the very few on-set personnel who knew about the real relationship between Jensen and him.
"So, what's up, big Jay? You were looking pretty serious here. Is everything okay?" Her face showed concern as she leaned forward, dropping her voice for privacy.
Jared looked down, unable to meet her sharp gaze. "No, no, everything's fine. Just fine." He looked off to the side before looking back at her and smiling. He could feel how fake the smile was.
She shook her head. "Oh, come on, Jay. You're a terrific actor, but you aren't fooling me for a minute. I can see the furrows in that brow that say something is up. Now," and she raised her hands, palms facing him, "you don't have to tell me, of course. No harm, no foul. But . . . if you want to unburden yourself, I am a judgment-free zone." She picked up her cup and blew on it before sipping cautiously.
Tears unexpectedly pricked Jared's eyes at her offer. God, he'd love to offload his worry. To feel he wasn't alone in his concern. He opened his mouth, shut it again, sighed. She patted his hand as it rested on the table, hers looking so small as it rested on his. He sighed again and gave in.
"It's Jensen. I don't even know what's wrong, Lynnie. I just know that something is. He won't talk about it, or he can't, I don't know which. It's not us, you know? He and I - we're good. But something is eating at him, pulling him down, and I can't help if I don't know what it is! I just . . ." Jared's voice broke. "I just want to help him. He's so great - he deserves to be as happy as he can be. And . . . I'm worried. Without even knowing what I'm worried about."
Lynnie sat quietly for a minute, her hand still resting on Jared's. "It's okay, man. I get it. You know, we always joke around about supernatural shit here on set. But sometimes there are things that are . . . difficult to explain. Things that you have to kind of have to take on faith, you know? And I'm going to tell you about one of them now."
"My granny is very . . . I guess you could say, she's very Old World. Her family lived all tucked away on a little farm, and their traditions were a big, big thing to them. Even when she finally emigrated, she remained very steeped in her traditions. Now, I'm not saying she has psychic powers or anything, but she did subscribe to a deep belief in what we'd probably now call 'kitchen magic' - old wives' lore handed down through the years, using common ingredients found in the kitchen accompanied by simple words or phrases." Her clear eyes studied Jared, as if to gauge the effect of her words.
Jared nodded. "Okay, I'm following you so far. I remember my Polish granny, my babunia, muttering over a simmering pan, and then when I'd ask, she'd shoo me away. 'Not for curious little boys! Don' want your ears to fall off!' she'd say. But - I don't think it actually "did" anything. My mom and dad would just humor her while they rolled their eyes a little."
Lynnie laughed, a warm noise ringing in the cold air. "I know what you mean! They just wanted us out of the kitchen, right?" she said. Then she sobered and spoke softly, "But some of it? Some of it is real, Jared. And my granny passed a lot of what she knew down to me. Nothing huge - I can't turn anyone into a frog or anything!" She winked at Jared. "But there are some things I can do . . . like maybe find out about a problem, or a secret." She fell silent, watching Jared, waiting for his reaction.
He sat there staring at her. Were they really having this conversation? She was telling him that she knew this "kitchen magic" crap, and could find out what was going on with Jensen. Did he believe this? Really? His dignity as a modern-era, scientifically influenced man struggled to accept her words.
But . . . did he have anything to lose?
If they could really utilize her knowledge to uncover the source of Jensen's distress, then shouldn't they do it? Jared had talked and cajoled Jensen and gotten nowhere. Jensen was still struggling with something, and he wasn't winning. If this didn't hurt anyone, then - what was the harm? Worst case scenario was nothing happened. Best case . . .
Best case was Jensen got to be happy.
Done deal.
Jared looked at Lynnie. "I'm in. What do you need from me?"
Lynnie nodded at him. "Okay, then! I have all the materials I need, I just have to get them together. Meet you here tomorrow? Or the next day, depending on your shooting schedule, okay?" They got up and hugged, Jared wrapping his arms around the young woman.
"Thanks, Lynnie. Thank you!"
It was good to feel some hope.
Jared lay on the bed, eyes open in the dark. Jensen lay sleeping next to him, rolled onto his side facing away from Jared. Jared could hear his soft, rhythmic breathing, broken by the occasional snuffle.
Jared wished he were asleep. He didn't have any trouble sleeping during any other time, why should 3:17 a.m. be a problem? But apparently it was, and so here he lay, rigid on the bed, eyes staring into the dark as if to penetrate the secrets of the night.
A half hour later, after checking the clock every few minutes with increasing annoyance, Jared sighed and gave up. He got up and pulled a hoodie on over his T-shirt, stuffed his feet into slippers, and went downstairs. He lay down on the couch and pulled the afghan up before clicking the TV on and checking through the channels. Documentaries, Headline News, lame comedies, bad movies. He sat for a while watching Saturday Night Fever, fascinated by the dancing, the twirling, the lights and flash. So bright and colorful. Why did he feel that life was so gray these days, so flat and colorless? Where did all that brightness and energy go?
There was a marathon of NCIS reruns on another channel, and he settled on that. He loved the mix of case stories and humor; the affectionate banter of the team contrasted well against the hardcore crimes they investigated. Gibbs was a major silver fox, and if he and Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo weren't knocking boots, well, they sure wanted to be. Jared remembered enjoying banter and flirting. Recently, even. Somehow, that had all leeched away, like water evaporating and exposing a old bed of cracked, dry mud, and he didn't understand why. It was all so difficult to think about; his thoughts were sliding and squirming away, and in the end he'd end up back where he started, so fuck it. He relaxed against the pillow propped against the sofa arm and watched until his lids grew heavy and closed of their own accord.
Jared sat on a kitchen stool at the breakfast counter, an envelope on the counter before him. Inside the envelope, he knew, were two paper packets, each one with a couple of spoonfuls of various herbs and spices. A paper with instructions was stuck to the outside. "Boil two cups of purified (blessed) water. Pour into two mugs and say the following words over them: "Show me the darkened path and guide me to the light." Empty one packet into each cup and stir five times. Speak the name of the person of concern three times and stir another five times. Both should drink to the dregs, and then pour the dregs into the plant closest to your back door. Repeat the sentence about the dark path two more times as you pour out."
Lynnie had slipped the envelope to him before hiatus, three weeks ago. Jared had felt excited at first, but as the days had gone by, his excitement melted and was replaced by apprehension. What kind of hocus-pocus was this? What would this stuff even do? And then the shameful thought - Do I really want to know what it will do? How badly do I actually want to know what's plaguing Jen? That one made Jared blush and feel lower than a worm. He shouldn't be thinking about his own fears right now - he should be helping his partner.
He slapped the counter top and stood up. Enough vacillating. It was time to act.
Tea brewed according to the directions, he brought the mugs out to Jensen. "Hey, picked up some new tea I thought you might like," he said cheerfully, praying with all his might that Jensen would drink it without further question. "Here, try it." He picked up his own mug and sniffed. It smelled rich and cinnamony. He'd already done the speaking and stirring steps in the kitchen.
Jensen took the mug and likewise sniffed. "Yeah, spicy but kinda orangey too," he agreed, and took a sip. "Mmm, nice. Thanks." He smiled at Jared, who felt there alone was a victory.
They drank the tea quietly together, sitting next to each other on the couch. Halfway through, Jared put his arm around Jensen, who snuggled against his side. Jared closed his eyes, just enjoying his boyfriend's closeness. It felt like it had been a long time since they'd done this.
He was almost done with his mug when Jensen said, "Oh, this must have been loose tea. I've got a lot of dregs at the bottom."
"Oh, sorry, babe, I'll take care of that. Why don't you find a movie or something, and we'll watch it when I get back?" Jared stood and took Jensen's mug, carrying them both carefully into the kitchen. Both had about an inch of tea in the bottom, along with a good deal of herby-looking bits and swirls of powder. He eased the back door open, keeping an ear peeled for Jensen all the while. Jared stepped outside to look for the closest plant. His eye was caught by a large shrub a foot or so away from the doorway. He moved close, then looked around just to double check.
A tendril of green caught his eye. There at his feet, thisclose to the back door, was a curling vine of some type. Wow, that's certainly the closest, he thought. I never noticed that before. He held both mugs over the little plant and let the contents dribble out over it, repeating the same words again. He shook the mugs gently to be sure they were empty and stood up to go back inside. Of course it had to be his imagination, but as he stepped inside, he could have sworn he saw the little vine . . . wriggle.
Coming back into the kitchen, he leaned heavily on the edge of the sink, feeling as if his bones could barely hold up his body. Please let this work, he thought, heart aching as he said his own little prayer. I know this is all kinda wacko, but right now it's my only shot at finding out what's wrong. Please. I love him so much.
Jared woke up with a start. NCIS was still playing on the television. Ducky was explaining some obscure point of forensic medicine to the team. He clicked the TV off, slowly sitting up in the quiet of very early morning. He'd been dreaming, and the vestiges of the dream still clung to him. There'd been a mirror, and he'd kept looking into it, but it never showed his face. The mirror showed his dad's face, Kripke's face, his brother Jeff's face, so many other faces, but not his, never his. Jared kept looking away and looking back, but the parade of faces continued. Finally he looked in and saw Jensen's face. Not Jensen as he knew him, handsome with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. This Jensen was shadowed, his cheeks sunken, a pallor on his skin. Dark rings lay under his eyes, draining them of their sparkle. His look seemed to cry out for help, and Jared's heart was stricken.
"I'm trying, Jen! I'm trying! The tea was supposed to help somehow, supposed to show me something. What is it? Please, Jen, tell me what it is! God, I feel so helpess," Jared could feel tears trickling down his face as he begged the image to speak.
The mirror darkened, then broke in a spiderweb of cracks, bits of glass tinkling onto the floor.
Jared decided to check in on Jensen, who had gone to bed after they'd watched a bit of TV together. Now that they had drunk the tea, Jared found himself anxious for what might happen next. Would Jensen just start talking about it? But there was nothing - simply a little cuddling on the couch, and then Jen going upstairs to get into bed.
Jared eased the bedroom door open. The crack of light from the hallway was enough to show him Jensen's form, but everything else was still lost in shadows. Jared crept quietly to the head of the bed. He could see the silhouette of Jensen's hair against the pillow. Kneeling down, Jared thought about allowing more light into the room, but with Jensen's sleep problems, he didn't want to wake him up. Instead, he gently pressed his lips against Jensen's forehead, then trailed his thumb down Jensen's cheekbone. It felt wet under the pad of Jared's thumb. Jared caught his breath - Jensen had come up here after their cuddling, changed for bed, gotten under the covers . . . and cried? Jared's heart gave a pang at that lonely image. Oh, baby, I would have come up. You coulda talked to me. Don't you know there's nothing I wouldn't do to help you feel better? Jared dropped his thumb to the pillowcase and ran it under Jensen's cheek.
It was soaked.
Jared's eyes stung. Not even just a few sad, lonely tears, but a storm of them. Jensen had just lain up here, sobbing, and Jared had had no idea. How much more was he hiding? How many other clues was Jared missing?
When was he going to find out what was going on?
Jared skinned out of his clothes and slid into bed behind Jensen. He needed to feel his lover's skin and warmth against his body. He needed to share his skin and warmth with Jensen, try to let him know that he was not alone. Burying his nose in the back of Jensen's neck, Jared allowed the fatigue of his constant worrying to wash over him. Despite his fears, he was asleep in a few minutes.
On to Part 4
