Fic: To See The World in a Grain of Sand (Part 5)
Fic title: To See the World in a Grain of Sand
Author name: belledewinter
Artist name: beelikej
Genre: AU RPS Slash
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word count: Around 45.000
Fic Warnings: AU.
Summary: Steampunk AU. Heartbroken and eager to prove himself, Jensen Ackles makes a bet: that he will be able to go around the world in 80 days, no matter what obstacles one could find along the way.
With the aid of a man with many hidden talents who now acts as his valet and a young engineer with a dubious heritage and a disarming smile, Jensen embarks on the journey of a lifetime, not knowing that danger is always just one step behind him. Will he make it home in time?
Link to fic: Here.
Link to art: Here.
Jensen checks the time once they get to Calcutta, of course, and it’s like being woken up from a deep slumber. He’s exhausted, for sure, and his back aches from the long elephant ride, but the race is still ahead of them and they are by no means done. The city lights are slowly dying out with the late hour, and Jensen regrets that they will not be able to travel on right at that very minute.
He turns to look at his companions, Jared’s arm protectively over the wound over his side, leaning on Misha as he descends. It must hurt, Jensen thinks, even though it’s been a couple of days. The wound isn’t closed and they will be lucky enough if they have managed to keep it clean and not have it reopen during the journey. Jensen doesn’t doubt Misha’s ability in any way, but considering the problems they can still go through, he refuses to take any chances.
It’s Misha who senses his distress first, turning towards his employer with a look that’s by all means soothing. “I doubt there will be much we will be able to travel on until dawn. It’s better to get some rest while we still can.”
“I don’t really think that’s a possibility just yet,” Jensen says, gesturing to Jared. “I think we should find a doctor that works tonight, just to make sure the wound won’t trouble you for the rest of the journey.” It surprises him how his voice seems to break just slightly towards the end of his sentence, but manages to keep it mostly serene. Jared doesn’t seem to notice, but Jensen doesn’t have to look at Misha to see that he has.
Once he finally tugs his eyes away from Jared, who seems just slightly surprised that Jensen would make the effort, he turns to look at Misha as if to dismiss him. The man sends Jensen a look that Jensen is sure has seen right into his childhood.
“Don’t you think that’s the best plan, Mr. Collins? Just to be safe.”
Misha nods, but he does not say what he is thinking, and it bugs Jensen that he can tell perfectly well when his butler is lecturing him in his mind. “Very well, sir.” And with that, both he and Jared move among the few people in town, Jared carefully choosing his words when they speak to people about the need for a doctor, and it isn’t very long until their smiles charm an old woman into telling them where a doctor lives.
The doctor is a short, elderly man with a voice like a small bird, and Jared doesn’t quite catch all that he has to say about his wound, but he knows that it still sounds like he was lecturing a silly child. He doesn’t find it funny that they traveled that far without a doctor or that they almost got killed out in the jungle, but at least he doesn’t make too many questions other than the basics about how it happened. When he unwraps the wound Jared is very relieved to see it look… fairly clean, compared to what it could be.
The doctor, of course, doesn’t praise Misha’s work and even waves a finger in his face saying something that sounds suspiciously like, “you wouldn’t know a well-treated wound if it slapped you in the face”, and that’s not something Jared is particularly keen on translating. Misha looks unfazed by the whole thing but Jensen is looking down like he understood everything and the whole thing was his fault. Jared doesn’t quite understand that, of course, since if it were not for him, they could be already on their way to their next destination. But Jensen treats this journey as if it were, strangely, his fault, rather than his idea.
“You really don’t have to stay, you know,” Jared tells them with a smile as the doctor works. “I think he’s curse up a storm but that I will mostly be fine.”
Jensen shakes his head and turns to Misha. “You can go if you like, Mr. Collins. From what I know of Calcutta, there is a zeppelin every morning that travels to Hong Kong. All we have to do until then is basically wait.”
Misha gets up and stretches, and Jared can tell by the way his shoulder makes a dull cracking sound that the last thing the man wants is to stay sitting. The idea of three grown men sore and worn out more merely by sitting almost makes Jared laugh. Then again, he doesn’t remember having ever been this tired before, not even when he’d worked for hours at the workshop. He decides to blame it on being far from home, rather than the ride, and never, of course, on Jensen.
“We will meet at dawn, then, if not earlier,” Misha says, and before he walks out the door, he sentences, “I will not leave this city without a good cup of tea.”
The room feels awfully silent once he’s gone, and Jensen seems to watch the doctor way too closely for the man’s comfort. If Jensen did not look so… nervous, Jared would find it funny. The man eventually leaves to tend to his other patients, and tells Jensen sternly when he gets paid that if he leaves town tomorrow it is his at his own risk. Jensen has not understood the words, but by the way his brow furrows, he’s understood perfectly.
“Let’s get out,” Jared says, and makes to get up. “I really don’t want to stay here more than it’s necessary.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t rush it.” Jensen sentences.
Jared sighs. “I’m not going to break. If I did not die riding an elephant, do you think I’m going to, with a perfectly stitched, clean wound?”
Jensen does not seem convinced, but the two of them make it out of the doctor’s house as another man walks in. They do their best to find a place to rest, but since most of the town seems too dark, they don’t venture too far. They manage to find the places where the zeppelins take off, though, and it’s not too far from them. The machines stay lines up prettily, polished and silver against the dark night, shining like the stars.
“You don’t mind spending a night outside?” Jared asks, curiously studying Jensen’s face as he looks at the row of zeppelins with approval. “That’s not very gentleman-like, is it?”
Jensen tears his eyes away from the machines and looks at Jared, his face shining just barely in the street’s few lights. “If you won’t die when you get stabbed, I certainly should be able to hold my own when I’m perfectly healthy.”
“I would hope so,” Jared says, and the smile is once again appearing. “Are you sure we could not have found a place to sleep, if we hadn’t wasted so much time?”
Jensen shoots him a stern look. “What do you mean?”
“If I hadn’t- Well, you know. You could have left me on the train. Maybe you would have gained time, maybe you would already be on your way to Hong Kong, and closer to London.”
“Maybe Mr. Collins would have killed me in my sleep if I had left you and made the rest of the journey on his own.” Jensen responds quickly, “And tell you what, I’m sure that man would find a way to make the trip, twice, in all the time I’ve lost alone.” Jared’s smile doesn’t quite vanish, but he looks at Jensen and doesn’t even blink. It seems strange that Jensen should look away first, but he does, clear on his eyes that there is something he has decided not to say.
Jared thinks that there could be so much Jensen has not told him. And really, after saving his life and putting up with his problematic family, he doesn’t have to. It’s not like the man who pays him owes him anything, and it strikes Jared that he’s finding himself indebted in a way that he could never hope to pay.
Silence stretches between them as Jensen sits against a wall, close to the dirty, old landing platform. Jared follows his lead, but does not speak. Jensen’s eyes are lost off somewhere in the night, and Jared wants more than anything to know what is going on behind those green eyes.
“Jared, listen,” Jensen starts to say, very carefully, as if measuring his words. “I would not have left you. I want you to understand that-“ He takes a deep, shaky breath, and Jared finds he’d been holding his since Jensen started talking. Jensen blinks, clears his eyes, and Jared can see the exact moment when his back stretches and he turns to him with a face of perfect serenity. “We are all in this together, and leaving someone in grave danger is not something I’m ready to do.”
Jared feels like his heart has sunk down to his stomach. What had he been expecting? Of course it is because Jensen is a honorable man. He manages a small smile. Well, at least he knows that he will be safe as far as Jensen is concerned. Safe. He isn’t sure that’s what he wants anymore at all. “Thank you,” he says, and Jensen’s face falls at his words. Jared doesn’t want to think that he has noticed a change in his voice, even if Jensen isn’t stupid and by now must know that Jared can’t hide anything he feels. He settles against the wall and rests his head against it. He’s tired and worn out, and right now, he doesn’t feel like he should speak. “That’s what I meant to say, I guess. Thank you for not leaving me behind.”
Jared doesn’t see if Jensen smiles. He closes his eyes, and the silence, night and long hours take him shortly after that.
Misha had never been to Calcutta before, but he calculates that here and anywhere else, if someone wants a drink this late, it will have to be somewhere with a disreputable name. The very few lights in town lead quickly to such a den of iniquity, and it’s clear on the bartender’s face that most demands he gets this late are not of tea.
Not that Misha is here to explain to anyone his drink. He notices the man among the crowd right off, all the same. He has to blink, and for a moment he thinks they must have put something in his tea.
Welling. The man from the boat.
Misha smiles when he sees reconnaissance in his face, and it’s clear from the smile the man either has a fond memory of him or rather liked their first, if short, encounter.
“Misha, wasn’t it?” The tall, dark man says, but from his voice Misha can tell he knows perfectly well.
“Welling,” he responds. “It’s good to see you again.”
Welling throws his head back and laughs, and Misha has a second to think that either the man is intoxicated or a little too pleased to see him again. “I keep hearing of your adventures, you know, with your Lord. Your story of your arrival to Bombay apparently made it to London.”
“I wonder how that happened, we’ve haven’t been gone a week.”
Welling smiles and leans into Misha, too close to be friendly - or way too friendly for Misha’s taste. “Bad news travel fast, you know.”
Misha frowns. “What do you mean?”
Welling seems more than happy to explain, with an arm falsely friendly around Misha’s shoulder and his words low and just vaguely threatening, hot and careful by Misha’s face. Misha can smell a trace of alcohol in the man’s breath, but his eyes are all too focused for him to be telling a lie. “They say your master fled London due to his gambling debts. That he does not intend to return until what’s left of his illicit fortune is gone, and that he doesn’t plan on ever setting a foot in London ever again.”
Misha pushes him away carefully and shakes his head. “I’m afraid that’s not the nature of this adventure.”
“Oh, isn’t it?” Welling asks, suddenly curious and with a trace of danger in his words. “How long have you been employed by him? What do you really know?”
It makes Misha doubt. Just for a second, and he regrets it immediately.
“I cannot believe anybody would think that of Lord Ackles, or that the news would travel that fast without some kind of… aid, so to say.”
“A spy?” Welling says, amused.
“An officer,” Misha snaps, and suddenly the dangerous, rather stiff manner of speech in this man takes all the meaning in the world. “The police would not follow him this far.”
“Unless… someone was sent to find him before his fortune run out and he was able to pay off those he owes money too, before the damage was too great. Really, Misha, you think the best of people sometimes, don’t you? I find it rather endearing, if naïve.”
Misha gets up from the table and stares Welling down. “It’s you. You were sent to find him.”
“It’s a lot to hope that you will take me to him, isn’t it?”
“You have nothing to show for his supposed crimes,” he ventures. He doesn’t know for sure, and that’s part of the problem. Misha knows very little of the life Jensen had before he came to work for him. But a gambler? It’s true what has brought them here is a bet. But for all Misha knows, this means the world to Jensen, and it was nothing thoughtless. No, he cannot imagine that Jensen would almost lose his fortune on a whim, or make a habit out of it.
“Not yet. I may,” Welling says, finishing his drink. “And when I see him, you can be sure I will bring him back to London, with me. And in my own time.”
Misha knows then that he will spend the night leading this man away, far from Jensen. He cannot get on the zeppelin with them, or he’ll attempt to arrest Jensen wherever they are and stop him. Someone must have an incredible wish to make Jensen lose the bet, back in London, and Misha has never liked a sore loser.
“We’ll see about that, Welling,” he sentences, and vanishes off into the night before the man can even get off his seat.
The first light of dawn is breaking right in front of Jensen’s eyes.
He has barely slept. He blames the wall, and the floor and mostly the man who’s sleeping peacefully beside him, who in a very short time managed to lean against Jensen’s shoulder without waking. Jensen doesn’t feel like moving, but a night doesn’t last forever, and shortly they will have to travel on. Thank you, he said. If only he knew.
Jensen looks at him, so young and kind and with nothing to lose, asleep out in the street at the other side of the world. His hair falls over his eyes and Jensen brushes it away, notices he even made the gesture a second too late when Jared stirs. His hand stills mid-air until he settles back into sleep, and he stares at the boy as if dumbstruck.
“That’s it,” he mutters. “I’m done for.”
Jared dreams.
Lately, it seems there is never a night when he will not dream, see an image of his mother or India, or the lonely days in London when she was not there anymore at all. When he had to depend on his own talent and the goodwill of others to live just another day.
She’s sitting at the docks in what looks like Bombay, but the place is empty but for the two of them, and she does not look at him, but at the sun that’s setting, disappearing in the water as if it were on its way to drowning, all gold and red, setting the sea on fire.
“You do not see it, do you?” She says, but she’s smiling. Jared looks around as if searching, but there is nothing but the two of them to see, and she is not looking at him. When she finally looks up at her son, her eyes are green.
Green eyes are the first thing Jared sees when he wakes up.
Misha makes it to the zeppelin just as it’s getting ready to flee, and finds both Jared and Jensen waiting for him in silence. Jensen looks at him, clearly annoyed. The three of them climb aboard and Misha hopes they have been the last ones. “Sometimes, Mr. Collins, I think you take this penchant of yours for arriving in the knack of time a little too far.”
The door closes right after they jump on, and the crew gets to work efficiently as they are led to their cabin. Misha barely waits until the three of them are seated and wating for the take-off before the words tumble out of his mouth. “There is something I have to tell you.”
Jared looks up quickly, and Jensen notices, but quickly looks back to Misha, almost as if he had not seen Jared at all. Misha decides to ask later, probably when he has made sure that Welling has been left behind in India for good. “What happened?”
“There is someone behind us.”
The room is utterly silent except for the motors roaring into life. It’s after a second that Jared speaks, pale and out of breath. “What do you mean, there is someone behind us?” Misha knows immediately who he’s thinking of.
“Not your family, Jared. I don’t think we will hear of them again, and we’ll be so lucky.”
“Then who?” Jensen asks, urgently.
“A man from London. An agent.” Misha says, and Jensen’s eyes almost pop out of its sockets.
“There is an agent after me? Someone would follow me this far? For what reason?”
“That’s what I thought at first,” Misha says. “And honestly, it’s not completely unheard of that a Lord would flee London in the middle of the night, but taking two servants on a trip around the world would be too much, even if one intended to disappear on the other side of the world.”
Jensen shakes his head, and Misha can see that the implications make him rather angry. “Yes, but most of those men who flee either have problems with gambling or a jealous husband, or both.” Both Misha and Jared watch him closely at that, and he waves a hand as if to dismiss the idea. “I never had problems with either, before one of you even thinks of asking.”
“Then what?” Misha asks, defying, “I’m almost expecting you to tell me you killed a man.”
“I did no such thing.” Jensen responds coldly, clearly offended.
“Then you must have quite an enemy waiting for you in London, Jensen. I don’t know who or why, but someone with power enough to send the police after you, no matter where you go, is certainly not someone you’d easily forget about.”
Jensen seems to think hard for a second, but judging from the way his face falls, he finds out quickly enough. “He wouldn’t.”
Misha looks at Jared, who seems even more lost than he is. “Who wouldn’t what, Jensen?”
“Somerhalder. The man I bet against.”
“Well, I think if he intends to make you lose the bet on purpose he’s not playing like much of a gentleman, is he?” Jared says. “What would he lose if you won?”
“Everything,” Jensen says slowly. “Just like I would. When this is over, one of us will wave goodbye to the London high society, one way or another.”
“That’s a bit… drastic.” Misha sentences. “I can see why he would not want to lose. Not to mention that if I remember correctly, you did say that you would make it on time no matter what happened. Taking into account all possible problems.”
“Which really, allows him to send someone after you, and it would still be fair game.” Jared says, finishing off Misha’s thought. “Even if they have nothing against you, an arrest would delay you.”
Jensen seems to fall absolutely quiet at that, almost like he’s thinking about all possible scenarios where he could be arrested in this very room. “Misha, did you see him? Did you actually see his face, or did someone tell you?”
“I saw him. Tall, dark hair. Rather handsome. Younger than me.”
“Welling, for sure,” Jensen says, and Misha can’t help thinking that if Jensen knows him, that certainly makes their whole idea true. “I didn’t think he’d go that far.”
It would be only natural, Misha thinks, that a man who is about to lose his fortune would try to prevent that fate at any cost. Yes, that he can understand, even if it’s playing against the rules (or very, very strictly, tampering with them). Judging from how dumbstruck Jensen is, though, it cannot be possible that it’s the only motive. “Lord Ackles, is it… personal?”
Jensen doesn’t answer, which is itself answer enough. Misha sighs and watches as Jared falls quiet and tries to make himself smaller in the sight of the events. Neither of them is very keen on speaking it seems.
The zeppelin takes off.
It isn’t until the day after that Jensen really feels like leaving the small cabin the three of them are sleeping in. When he does, he walks alone through the aircraft for hours.
How could he have been that stupid?
Yes, it was personal. It had been from the start. And Somerhalder knew perfectly well. He must have taken Jensen’s bet for what it was - not a mere risky gamble, but an act of defiance. And there was nothing Ian hated more than something slipping between his fingers, which had been what Jensen had intended to do.
He had not been well. Lost, alone, heartbroken. Ian had known very well how to play him, until he had, as ever, gotten tired. What had been unexpected was to see Jensen retaliate with anything at all, even less something that would force him to put his own fortune at risk.
And to think that Jensen had loved him.
Clearly, he hadn’t known what he was getting into. For the first time in this journey, Jensen started to feel regret. Thought of Jared, putting his life on the line by going home to a country he had problems in, thought of Misha, having to make the best of his skill far from home. This was not what the two of them had signed up for. Not when the only person Somerhalder was really after was Jensen himself.
There would be no reasoning with Welling, for sure. Nothing that would really stop the man, short of tying him up and leaving him inside a trunk (and Jensen refused to cause him any harm beyond that - he was not like Somerhalder, and to compare himself to him was unthinkable). No, this was something Jensen was deep into. And if Somerhalder wouldn’t stop, neither would he.
“I have to finish this,” Jensen mutters, and it’s out his mouth before he can ever process it.
Jared trusted him. Misha trusted him. Or at least, that’s what he hoped. He would finish this journey and make it home on time for them, if he had to. The thought of Welling arresting them was not something he was going to venture, because it would not happen. He was fairly sure that it would never happen to a man like Misha. But Jared, drawn into this mess without really being able to break away from this problem on time.
Jensen was not going to make him go through that.
“Jared, I have to talk to you.”
Jared looks up at Jensen from his the seat he’d taken, close to the pilot’s cabin, watching the sky through the small, slit windows to the sides. The sky seemed endlessly blue through the glass. Jared gestures to the empty spot beside him on the metal seat, almost if it did not matter. “Of course.”
“It seems to me that there must have been a misunderstanding between us before we climbed aboard, and I would like to clear things up. I have to say I’m not very good explaining these things.” These things, Jensen says. Other people call them feelings.
“I want you to understand that over the last few weeks-“ Jensen starts, but the wording seems all wrong and jumbled up in his head. “Over the last few weeks I have grown rather… fond of you.”
Jared seems to lighten up at that, expectant. “Really?”
“It’s possible that when I saw you wounded I overreacted.” Jensen says. “And I understand that we have been travelling for many long hours far too close, and that it may lead to confusion, but I do not want you to think that I see you just as someone at my service.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Jared quickly says, “I’m sorry. I know it must have been a very stressful situation, I just thought that you had gone out of your way to- to keep me alive and that I’d put you though all the trouble.”
“It really was no trouble, Jared,” Jensen cuts him off, and thinks for a second that he’ll regret what’s about to spill from his mouth. “I don’t presume that it would be mutual, but I care for you.”
Jared speaks so easily that Jensen almost wants to cry.
“I do care for you,” he says. They look at each other for a long moment before the two of them look back to the sky, almost like they now have a terrible secret that nobody else can find about. When Jared leaves, he brushes past Jensen’s shoulder, and Jensen can feel a tingle where they touched.
The couple of weeks that follow, Jared seems to disappear most of the day. Jensen sees him sometimes, talking to the crew or making friends. Walking around with Misha, helping his friend fix things. Jensen, the first few days, is out on the lookout for Welling, but the man is not on the vehicle, and that seems futile. He decides to keep to himself and read, study a route he knows by heart, and hope against all hope that they will make it home on time and in one piece.
But it doesn’t matter how they pass the day, when night falls Jared always finds the time to see Jensen before they sleep, the two of them watching the endless night sky for a while, not speaking, not touching, in comfortable silence even though they both seem to have so much to say.
It takes all of Jensen’s willpower to make it remain so.
It’s right before they land that Misha searches Jensen out, alone.
“Lord Ackles, I have a… suggestion to make for what may follow in out trip.”
“I’m listening,” Jensen quickly responds.
“I think that if we encountered Welling again, I should stay with him.”
Jensen’s eyes go very wide for a second, and he shakes his head. “That is unthinkable, Mr. Collins. I will not tolerate it.”
“Lord Ackles,” Misha says, fierce. “Listen to me. If I don’t make it-“
“Oh, God, we are all going to make it, I will not let you-“
“Jensen,” and at that, Jensen falls quiet. “Listen to me, if there is ever a problem and I do not show up, leave without me. Nothing short of Welling would deter me, so believe what I tell you. You do not have to fear for me. If you have to, you will find out soon enough. But you have to make it back to London no matter what happens.”
Jensen seems to hesitate, but in the end, under Misha’s stern gaze, he nods. “I will do the best I can not to have that happen.”
“The door to the zeppelin opens, and Misha takes a deep breath and relaxes to walk out into the sun. “Well. Won’t we all?"
Author name: belledewinter
Artist name: beelikej
Genre: AU RPS Slash
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word count: Around 45.000
Fic Warnings: AU.
Summary: Steampunk AU. Heartbroken and eager to prove himself, Jensen Ackles makes a bet: that he will be able to go around the world in 80 days, no matter what obstacles one could find along the way.
With the aid of a man with many hidden talents who now acts as his valet and a young engineer with a dubious heritage and a disarming smile, Jensen embarks on the journey of a lifetime, not knowing that danger is always just one step behind him. Will he make it home in time?
Link to fic: Here.
Link to art: Here.
Jensen checks the time once they get to Calcutta, of course, and it’s like being woken up from a deep slumber. He’s exhausted, for sure, and his back aches from the long elephant ride, but the race is still ahead of them and they are by no means done. The city lights are slowly dying out with the late hour, and Jensen regrets that they will not be able to travel on right at that very minute.
He turns to look at his companions, Jared’s arm protectively over the wound over his side, leaning on Misha as he descends. It must hurt, Jensen thinks, even though it’s been a couple of days. The wound isn’t closed and they will be lucky enough if they have managed to keep it clean and not have it reopen during the journey. Jensen doesn’t doubt Misha’s ability in any way, but considering the problems they can still go through, he refuses to take any chances.
It’s Misha who senses his distress first, turning towards his employer with a look that’s by all means soothing. “I doubt there will be much we will be able to travel on until dawn. It’s better to get some rest while we still can.”
“I don’t really think that’s a possibility just yet,” Jensen says, gesturing to Jared. “I think we should find a doctor that works tonight, just to make sure the wound won’t trouble you for the rest of the journey.” It surprises him how his voice seems to break just slightly towards the end of his sentence, but manages to keep it mostly serene. Jared doesn’t seem to notice, but Jensen doesn’t have to look at Misha to see that he has.
Once he finally tugs his eyes away from Jared, who seems just slightly surprised that Jensen would make the effort, he turns to look at Misha as if to dismiss him. The man sends Jensen a look that Jensen is sure has seen right into his childhood.
“Don’t you think that’s the best plan, Mr. Collins? Just to be safe.”
Misha nods, but he does not say what he is thinking, and it bugs Jensen that he can tell perfectly well when his butler is lecturing him in his mind. “Very well, sir.” And with that, both he and Jared move among the few people in town, Jared carefully choosing his words when they speak to people about the need for a doctor, and it isn’t very long until their smiles charm an old woman into telling them where a doctor lives.
The doctor is a short, elderly man with a voice like a small bird, and Jared doesn’t quite catch all that he has to say about his wound, but he knows that it still sounds like he was lecturing a silly child. He doesn’t find it funny that they traveled that far without a doctor or that they almost got killed out in the jungle, but at least he doesn’t make too many questions other than the basics about how it happened. When he unwraps the wound Jared is very relieved to see it look… fairly clean, compared to what it could be.
The doctor, of course, doesn’t praise Misha’s work and even waves a finger in his face saying something that sounds suspiciously like, “you wouldn’t know a well-treated wound if it slapped you in the face”, and that’s not something Jared is particularly keen on translating. Misha looks unfazed by the whole thing but Jensen is looking down like he understood everything and the whole thing was his fault. Jared doesn’t quite understand that, of course, since if it were not for him, they could be already on their way to their next destination. But Jensen treats this journey as if it were, strangely, his fault, rather than his idea.
“You really don’t have to stay, you know,” Jared tells them with a smile as the doctor works. “I think he’s curse up a storm but that I will mostly be fine.”
Jensen shakes his head and turns to Misha. “You can go if you like, Mr. Collins. From what I know of Calcutta, there is a zeppelin every morning that travels to Hong Kong. All we have to do until then is basically wait.”
Misha gets up and stretches, and Jared can tell by the way his shoulder makes a dull cracking sound that the last thing the man wants is to stay sitting. The idea of three grown men sore and worn out more merely by sitting almost makes Jared laugh. Then again, he doesn’t remember having ever been this tired before, not even when he’d worked for hours at the workshop. He decides to blame it on being far from home, rather than the ride, and never, of course, on Jensen.
“We will meet at dawn, then, if not earlier,” Misha says, and before he walks out the door, he sentences, “I will not leave this city without a good cup of tea.”
The room feels awfully silent once he’s gone, and Jensen seems to watch the doctor way too closely for the man’s comfort. If Jensen did not look so… nervous, Jared would find it funny. The man eventually leaves to tend to his other patients, and tells Jensen sternly when he gets paid that if he leaves town tomorrow it is his at his own risk. Jensen has not understood the words, but by the way his brow furrows, he’s understood perfectly.
“Let’s get out,” Jared says, and makes to get up. “I really don’t want to stay here more than it’s necessary.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t rush it.” Jensen sentences.
Jared sighs. “I’m not going to break. If I did not die riding an elephant, do you think I’m going to, with a perfectly stitched, clean wound?”
Jensen does not seem convinced, but the two of them make it out of the doctor’s house as another man walks in. They do their best to find a place to rest, but since most of the town seems too dark, they don’t venture too far. They manage to find the places where the zeppelins take off, though, and it’s not too far from them. The machines stay lines up prettily, polished and silver against the dark night, shining like the stars.
“You don’t mind spending a night outside?” Jared asks, curiously studying Jensen’s face as he looks at the row of zeppelins with approval. “That’s not very gentleman-like, is it?”
Jensen tears his eyes away from the machines and looks at Jared, his face shining just barely in the street’s few lights. “If you won’t die when you get stabbed, I certainly should be able to hold my own when I’m perfectly healthy.”
“I would hope so,” Jared says, and the smile is once again appearing. “Are you sure we could not have found a place to sleep, if we hadn’t wasted so much time?”
Jensen shoots him a stern look. “What do you mean?”
“If I hadn’t- Well, you know. You could have left me on the train. Maybe you would have gained time, maybe you would already be on your way to Hong Kong, and closer to London.”
“Maybe Mr. Collins would have killed me in my sleep if I had left you and made the rest of the journey on his own.” Jensen responds quickly, “And tell you what, I’m sure that man would find a way to make the trip, twice, in all the time I’ve lost alone.” Jared’s smile doesn’t quite vanish, but he looks at Jensen and doesn’t even blink. It seems strange that Jensen should look away first, but he does, clear on his eyes that there is something he has decided not to say.
Jared thinks that there could be so much Jensen has not told him. And really, after saving his life and putting up with his problematic family, he doesn’t have to. It’s not like the man who pays him owes him anything, and it strikes Jared that he’s finding himself indebted in a way that he could never hope to pay.
Silence stretches between them as Jensen sits against a wall, close to the dirty, old landing platform. Jared follows his lead, but does not speak. Jensen’s eyes are lost off somewhere in the night, and Jared wants more than anything to know what is going on behind those green eyes.
“Jared, listen,” Jensen starts to say, very carefully, as if measuring his words. “I would not have left you. I want you to understand that-“ He takes a deep, shaky breath, and Jared finds he’d been holding his since Jensen started talking. Jensen blinks, clears his eyes, and Jared can see the exact moment when his back stretches and he turns to him with a face of perfect serenity. “We are all in this together, and leaving someone in grave danger is not something I’m ready to do.”
Jared feels like his heart has sunk down to his stomach. What had he been expecting? Of course it is because Jensen is a honorable man. He manages a small smile. Well, at least he knows that he will be safe as far as Jensen is concerned. Safe. He isn’t sure that’s what he wants anymore at all. “Thank you,” he says, and Jensen’s face falls at his words. Jared doesn’t want to think that he has noticed a change in his voice, even if Jensen isn’t stupid and by now must know that Jared can’t hide anything he feels. He settles against the wall and rests his head against it. He’s tired and worn out, and right now, he doesn’t feel like he should speak. “That’s what I meant to say, I guess. Thank you for not leaving me behind.”
Jared doesn’t see if Jensen smiles. He closes his eyes, and the silence, night and long hours take him shortly after that.
Misha had never been to Calcutta before, but he calculates that here and anywhere else, if someone wants a drink this late, it will have to be somewhere with a disreputable name. The very few lights in town lead quickly to such a den of iniquity, and it’s clear on the bartender’s face that most demands he gets this late are not of tea.
Not that Misha is here to explain to anyone his drink. He notices the man among the crowd right off, all the same. He has to blink, and for a moment he thinks they must have put something in his tea.
Welling. The man from the boat.
Misha smiles when he sees reconnaissance in his face, and it’s clear from the smile the man either has a fond memory of him or rather liked their first, if short, encounter.
“Misha, wasn’t it?” The tall, dark man says, but from his voice Misha can tell he knows perfectly well.
“Welling,” he responds. “It’s good to see you again.”
Welling throws his head back and laughs, and Misha has a second to think that either the man is intoxicated or a little too pleased to see him again. “I keep hearing of your adventures, you know, with your Lord. Your story of your arrival to Bombay apparently made it to London.”
“I wonder how that happened, we’ve haven’t been gone a week.”
Welling smiles and leans into Misha, too close to be friendly - or way too friendly for Misha’s taste. “Bad news travel fast, you know.”
Misha frowns. “What do you mean?”
Welling seems more than happy to explain, with an arm falsely friendly around Misha’s shoulder and his words low and just vaguely threatening, hot and careful by Misha’s face. Misha can smell a trace of alcohol in the man’s breath, but his eyes are all too focused for him to be telling a lie. “They say your master fled London due to his gambling debts. That he does not intend to return until what’s left of his illicit fortune is gone, and that he doesn’t plan on ever setting a foot in London ever again.”
Misha pushes him away carefully and shakes his head. “I’m afraid that’s not the nature of this adventure.”
“Oh, isn’t it?” Welling asks, suddenly curious and with a trace of danger in his words. “How long have you been employed by him? What do you really know?”
It makes Misha doubt. Just for a second, and he regrets it immediately.
“I cannot believe anybody would think that of Lord Ackles, or that the news would travel that fast without some kind of… aid, so to say.”
“A spy?” Welling says, amused.
“An officer,” Misha snaps, and suddenly the dangerous, rather stiff manner of speech in this man takes all the meaning in the world. “The police would not follow him this far.”
“Unless… someone was sent to find him before his fortune run out and he was able to pay off those he owes money too, before the damage was too great. Really, Misha, you think the best of people sometimes, don’t you? I find it rather endearing, if naïve.”
Misha gets up from the table and stares Welling down. “It’s you. You were sent to find him.”
“It’s a lot to hope that you will take me to him, isn’t it?”
“You have nothing to show for his supposed crimes,” he ventures. He doesn’t know for sure, and that’s part of the problem. Misha knows very little of the life Jensen had before he came to work for him. But a gambler? It’s true what has brought them here is a bet. But for all Misha knows, this means the world to Jensen, and it was nothing thoughtless. No, he cannot imagine that Jensen would almost lose his fortune on a whim, or make a habit out of it.
“Not yet. I may,” Welling says, finishing his drink. “And when I see him, you can be sure I will bring him back to London, with me. And in my own time.”
Misha knows then that he will spend the night leading this man away, far from Jensen. He cannot get on the zeppelin with them, or he’ll attempt to arrest Jensen wherever they are and stop him. Someone must have an incredible wish to make Jensen lose the bet, back in London, and Misha has never liked a sore loser.
“We’ll see about that, Welling,” he sentences, and vanishes off into the night before the man can even get off his seat.
The first light of dawn is breaking right in front of Jensen’s eyes.
He has barely slept. He blames the wall, and the floor and mostly the man who’s sleeping peacefully beside him, who in a very short time managed to lean against Jensen’s shoulder without waking. Jensen doesn’t feel like moving, but a night doesn’t last forever, and shortly they will have to travel on. Thank you, he said. If only he knew.
Jensen looks at him, so young and kind and with nothing to lose, asleep out in the street at the other side of the world. His hair falls over his eyes and Jensen brushes it away, notices he even made the gesture a second too late when Jared stirs. His hand stills mid-air until he settles back into sleep, and he stares at the boy as if dumbstruck.
“That’s it,” he mutters. “I’m done for.”
Jared dreams.
Lately, it seems there is never a night when he will not dream, see an image of his mother or India, or the lonely days in London when she was not there anymore at all. When he had to depend on his own talent and the goodwill of others to live just another day.
She’s sitting at the docks in what looks like Bombay, but the place is empty but for the two of them, and she does not look at him, but at the sun that’s setting, disappearing in the water as if it were on its way to drowning, all gold and red, setting the sea on fire.
“You do not see it, do you?” She says, but she’s smiling. Jared looks around as if searching, but there is nothing but the two of them to see, and she is not looking at him. When she finally looks up at her son, her eyes are green.
Green eyes are the first thing Jared sees when he wakes up.
Misha makes it to the zeppelin just as it’s getting ready to flee, and finds both Jared and Jensen waiting for him in silence. Jensen looks at him, clearly annoyed. The three of them climb aboard and Misha hopes they have been the last ones. “Sometimes, Mr. Collins, I think you take this penchant of yours for arriving in the knack of time a little too far.”
The door closes right after they jump on, and the crew gets to work efficiently as they are led to their cabin. Misha barely waits until the three of them are seated and wating for the take-off before the words tumble out of his mouth. “There is something I have to tell you.”
Jared looks up quickly, and Jensen notices, but quickly looks back to Misha, almost as if he had not seen Jared at all. Misha decides to ask later, probably when he has made sure that Welling has been left behind in India for good. “What happened?”
“There is someone behind us.”
The room is utterly silent except for the motors roaring into life. It’s after a second that Jared speaks, pale and out of breath. “What do you mean, there is someone behind us?” Misha knows immediately who he’s thinking of.
“Not your family, Jared. I don’t think we will hear of them again, and we’ll be so lucky.”
“Then who?” Jensen asks, urgently.
“A man from London. An agent.” Misha says, and Jensen’s eyes almost pop out of its sockets.
“There is an agent after me? Someone would follow me this far? For what reason?”
“That’s what I thought at first,” Misha says. “And honestly, it’s not completely unheard of that a Lord would flee London in the middle of the night, but taking two servants on a trip around the world would be too much, even if one intended to disappear on the other side of the world.”
Jensen shakes his head, and Misha can see that the implications make him rather angry. “Yes, but most of those men who flee either have problems with gambling or a jealous husband, or both.” Both Misha and Jared watch him closely at that, and he waves a hand as if to dismiss the idea. “I never had problems with either, before one of you even thinks of asking.”
“Then what?” Misha asks, defying, “I’m almost expecting you to tell me you killed a man.”
“I did no such thing.” Jensen responds coldly, clearly offended.
“Then you must have quite an enemy waiting for you in London, Jensen. I don’t know who or why, but someone with power enough to send the police after you, no matter where you go, is certainly not someone you’d easily forget about.”
Jensen seems to think hard for a second, but judging from the way his face falls, he finds out quickly enough. “He wouldn’t.”
Misha looks at Jared, who seems even more lost than he is. “Who wouldn’t what, Jensen?”
“Somerhalder. The man I bet against.”
“Well, I think if he intends to make you lose the bet on purpose he’s not playing like much of a gentleman, is he?” Jared says. “What would he lose if you won?”
“Everything,” Jensen says slowly. “Just like I would. When this is over, one of us will wave goodbye to the London high society, one way or another.”
“That’s a bit… drastic.” Misha sentences. “I can see why he would not want to lose. Not to mention that if I remember correctly, you did say that you would make it on time no matter what happened. Taking into account all possible problems.”
“Which really, allows him to send someone after you, and it would still be fair game.” Jared says, finishing off Misha’s thought. “Even if they have nothing against you, an arrest would delay you.”
Jensen seems to fall absolutely quiet at that, almost like he’s thinking about all possible scenarios where he could be arrested in this very room. “Misha, did you see him? Did you actually see his face, or did someone tell you?”
“I saw him. Tall, dark hair. Rather handsome. Younger than me.”
“Welling, for sure,” Jensen says, and Misha can’t help thinking that if Jensen knows him, that certainly makes their whole idea true. “I didn’t think he’d go that far.”
It would be only natural, Misha thinks, that a man who is about to lose his fortune would try to prevent that fate at any cost. Yes, that he can understand, even if it’s playing against the rules (or very, very strictly, tampering with them). Judging from how dumbstruck Jensen is, though, it cannot be possible that it’s the only motive. “Lord Ackles, is it… personal?”
Jensen doesn’t answer, which is itself answer enough. Misha sighs and watches as Jared falls quiet and tries to make himself smaller in the sight of the events. Neither of them is very keen on speaking it seems.
The zeppelin takes off.
It isn’t until the day after that Jensen really feels like leaving the small cabin the three of them are sleeping in. When he does, he walks alone through the aircraft for hours.
How could he have been that stupid?
Yes, it was personal. It had been from the start. And Somerhalder knew perfectly well. He must have taken Jensen’s bet for what it was - not a mere risky gamble, but an act of defiance. And there was nothing Ian hated more than something slipping between his fingers, which had been what Jensen had intended to do.
He had not been well. Lost, alone, heartbroken. Ian had known very well how to play him, until he had, as ever, gotten tired. What had been unexpected was to see Jensen retaliate with anything at all, even less something that would force him to put his own fortune at risk.
And to think that Jensen had loved him.
Clearly, he hadn’t known what he was getting into. For the first time in this journey, Jensen started to feel regret. Thought of Jared, putting his life on the line by going home to a country he had problems in, thought of Misha, having to make the best of his skill far from home. This was not what the two of them had signed up for. Not when the only person Somerhalder was really after was Jensen himself.
There would be no reasoning with Welling, for sure. Nothing that would really stop the man, short of tying him up and leaving him inside a trunk (and Jensen refused to cause him any harm beyond that - he was not like Somerhalder, and to compare himself to him was unthinkable). No, this was something Jensen was deep into. And if Somerhalder wouldn’t stop, neither would he.
“I have to finish this,” Jensen mutters, and it’s out his mouth before he can ever process it.
Jared trusted him. Misha trusted him. Or at least, that’s what he hoped. He would finish this journey and make it home on time for them, if he had to. The thought of Welling arresting them was not something he was going to venture, because it would not happen. He was fairly sure that it would never happen to a man like Misha. But Jared, drawn into this mess without really being able to break away from this problem on time.
Jensen was not going to make him go through that.
“Jared, I have to talk to you.”
Jared looks up at Jensen from his the seat he’d taken, close to the pilot’s cabin, watching the sky through the small, slit windows to the sides. The sky seemed endlessly blue through the glass. Jared gestures to the empty spot beside him on the metal seat, almost if it did not matter. “Of course.”
“It seems to me that there must have been a misunderstanding between us before we climbed aboard, and I would like to clear things up. I have to say I’m not very good explaining these things.” These things, Jensen says. Other people call them feelings.
“I want you to understand that over the last few weeks-“ Jensen starts, but the wording seems all wrong and jumbled up in his head. “Over the last few weeks I have grown rather… fond of you.”
Jared seems to lighten up at that, expectant. “Really?”
“It’s possible that when I saw you wounded I overreacted.” Jensen says. “And I understand that we have been travelling for many long hours far too close, and that it may lead to confusion, but I do not want you to think that I see you just as someone at my service.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Jared quickly says, “I’m sorry. I know it must have been a very stressful situation, I just thought that you had gone out of your way to- to keep me alive and that I’d put you though all the trouble.”
“It really was no trouble, Jared,” Jensen cuts him off, and thinks for a second that he’ll regret what’s about to spill from his mouth. “I don’t presume that it would be mutual, but I care for you.”
Jared speaks so easily that Jensen almost wants to cry.
“I do care for you,” he says. They look at each other for a long moment before the two of them look back to the sky, almost like they now have a terrible secret that nobody else can find about. When Jared leaves, he brushes past Jensen’s shoulder, and Jensen can feel a tingle where they touched.
The couple of weeks that follow, Jared seems to disappear most of the day. Jensen sees him sometimes, talking to the crew or making friends. Walking around with Misha, helping his friend fix things. Jensen, the first few days, is out on the lookout for Welling, but the man is not on the vehicle, and that seems futile. He decides to keep to himself and read, study a route he knows by heart, and hope against all hope that they will make it home on time and in one piece.
But it doesn’t matter how they pass the day, when night falls Jared always finds the time to see Jensen before they sleep, the two of them watching the endless night sky for a while, not speaking, not touching, in comfortable silence even though they both seem to have so much to say.
It takes all of Jensen’s willpower to make it remain so.
It’s right before they land that Misha searches Jensen out, alone.
“Lord Ackles, I have a… suggestion to make for what may follow in out trip.”
“I’m listening,” Jensen quickly responds.
“I think that if we encountered Welling again, I should stay with him.”
Jensen’s eyes go very wide for a second, and he shakes his head. “That is unthinkable, Mr. Collins. I will not tolerate it.”
“Lord Ackles,” Misha says, fierce. “Listen to me. If I don’t make it-“
“Oh, God, we are all going to make it, I will not let you-“
“Jensen,” and at that, Jensen falls quiet. “Listen to me, if there is ever a problem and I do not show up, leave without me. Nothing short of Welling would deter me, so believe what I tell you. You do not have to fear for me. If you have to, you will find out soon enough. But you have to make it back to London no matter what happens.”
Jensen seems to hesitate, but in the end, under Misha’s stern gaze, he nods. “I will do the best I can not to have that happen.”
“The door to the zeppelin opens, and Misha takes a deep breath and relaxes to walk out into the sun. “Well. Won’t we all?"