Big Bang 2012: Love Lies Burning. 14/24
Is he going to be okay?”
The nurse places a comforting hand on Jared’s shoulder. “Stop fidgeting or the stitches won’t be neat. Your friend is in good hands.” Her breath is minty as she leans in to suture the cut on his face. “We’ve started an IV for antibiotics, and he’s in the right place.
“He doesn’t like to be touched, and he can hear but he doesn’t speak. He needs to be looking at you when you speak or he loses focus. Don’t cover his hands because he signs. Can somebody interpret? Do they all know that?”
The nurse growls at him, “Everyone knows. You’ve been clucking over him ever since you were brought in and now it’s time to fix you up.” There’s a snip and the metallic clunk of scissors being placed on the trolley. Cold alcohol swipes over his cut. “I saw your picture on the news. You’ve had one hell of a day. Did it not occur to you that you shouldn’t drive when you are distracted and stressed? You should have called for an ambulance for your friend. It’s what they are for. Does your car look bad?”
Jared winces as another suture is applied. He’s not seen what the small company vehicle looks like, but while they were being raced to hospital by a woman on Jim’s payroll she had described the place where it would be towed from, and the damage it will have sustained.
“It’s totalled, but the lamp post is only slightly bent.” Jared remembers his lines and hopes there aren’t too many questions. He’s been told not to think about the corpse left behind in the basement apartment. By the time Jim is finished there won’t be any trace that the failed assassin met either Jensen or Jared.
“You know he looks pretty bad at the moment with all those tubes and the oxygen mask, but we rarely lose patients to pneumonia these days. There are cuts and bruises and a bump on his head but he came out of the accident less damaged than you. There’s no guarantee, but you need to think positive.” The last suture is in and there’s a spray of antiseptic over Jared’s wound. “Can I ask a personal question?”
Jared frowns and nods assent.
“You said in your interview that you aren’t in a relationship, but I see a lot of folks come through the ER and I think I’m good at judging people. You and Jensen?” She looks awkward as she tidies the trolley, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m not usually a gossip.”
“No. It’s okay. I don’t know what it is. I never said I didn’t want to be in a relationship. Maybe there’s something, but I don’t think he’d want me.”
“Sweetie, you’re a catch. Now, go be with your man. You walk slow and look where you’re going. I’ll sort out a prescription for some painkillers and bring it to you.”
Jensen looks tiny in the stark white bed, with tubes that pump drugs in and drain infected fluid out. He’s surrounded by wheeled machines that beep and hum and there’s a regular hiss and shoosh as the ventilator forces air into stiff lungs. From everything that’s been said, it is amazing that Jen remained standing earlier in the day. He’s tough, thinks Jared. It’s a reassuring thought. He pulls up a chair and reaches for his hand. He takes it carefully, making sure he doesn’t disturb any wires or tubes.
There are freckles on Jensen’s fingers, standing stark over the blue-white skin. He rubs at them and counts. When he was seven, their teacher had asked them to draw a picture of their art partner, and Jared had tried to count all the freckles on Jensen’s body so he could make it accurate. He had tickled Jensen and made him bang his hands and laugh raucously. They’d been told off and sent to stand in the corridor until they could behave. He wants to see Jensen laugh again.
Jensen’s eyelids are closed, long lashes look dark against ivory skin and the ventilating tube is taped in place, ugly between his lips.
The doctor has come into the room and is standing by the bed with a clip board in her hand. “We’ve given him a sedative, so he won’t wake for some time. His body needs to rest and we don’t want him to struggle against the oxygen tube.” She glances at the notes, “I see you have given your name as next of kin and your own address, but we cannot find any medical records or history for your friend. It is highly irregular.”
Jared doesn’t bother to face her. He’s been expecting something of the sort. “It’s also highly irregular to find somebody willing to fund a new CT scanner for the department. If you value my promise you’ll find a way to keep your questions limited and your mouth shut. The same applies to all your staff.”
The doctor opens her mouth as if to speak and then closes it again and pauses before speaking, “There is every indication that Jensen has been living on the street. Can you at least tell us if he has been in contact with any molds or fungi, or if he has a history of lung problems, HIV, anything?”
Jared feels the need to explain. “I didn’t kidnap him, and I won’t make him stay against his will. I used to go to school with him. We were friends and I should have helped him before now. I don’t know anything so you should run all the tests. You have the authority to charge everything to me. Whatever you need, just do it.”
“And the security officer outside this room? How long will he be here?” She looks angry.
Jared knows it is an inconvenience to subject the hospital workers to scrutiny, but he isn’t willing to drop his guard. “There will be somebody here 24/7. The press are on my back, I don’t need Jensen mixed up in all that.” The executive knows the media is the least of his problems, but it’s a good enough excuse.
He looks wrecked. Old bruises merge into the angry red of new contusions and the jagged cut left by the killer’s boot (aka his steering wheel) is blackening and vivid. His nose is purpling and swollen. He’s bent to one side because his bruised ribs have more bruises over the top and there’s tight-hot pain every time he moves. The doctor’s expression softens, “Jensen won’t be awake for some time. You should use the opportunity to get some rest. Go home. We’ll call when there’s progress. He is going to wake up, Mr. Padalecki.”
Jared reluctantly leaves Jensen in their care but he can’t rest yet.
Misha is furious at him for his press debacle and for disappearing all day, Kim is in despair, even Lacey is angry with him. Jeff has been in custody for the entire day and Jared has done nothing to help. His brother is eligible for bail but he needs a hefty deposit and a guarantor. In the strange circumstances their father left them in, only Jared is in a position to provide it. Misha’s anger dissipates when he sees his friend. “What happened to you?”
“I went for a drive to clear my head, wrapped the car around a post. It is a company car so that’s another thing to get pissed about.” Jared raises a hand to shush Misha before he replies, “It’s been towed for repair. Nobody else hurt. Don’t nag. I had enough of that at the hospital.” He wants to tell Misha about Jen but there’s a kernel of doubt that keeps him from giving the true story. Misha sometimes has a hard time keeping his mouth shut around Jeff.
Alona is the only one who expresses real concern, “You should go home. Jeff will survive a night in jail. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve some payback for what he did to you.”
“No. It’s something I need to do.”
The cell door thuds behind Jared and the lock turns. Jeff is sitting on the edge of the rigid bench, perched as if he’s frightened to touch anything in this unclean space. He probably is. He looks behind Jared in confusion. “What are you doing in here?”
“I told them that if you were going to make bail, I needed to speak to you first. I want to be sure you won’t run. Detective Pearson thought it was a good idea, and I told your lawyer I wouldn’t come up with the cash until I’d spoken with you.”
“You know I didn’t do this Jay. You know me.”
Jared crosses his arms and leans against the wall for support. “I thought I did but I’ve come to find out there’s a lot I never knew.”
Jeff’s face crumples, “I’m sorry, okay. I’m an asshole. I wasn’t going to use the picture. I promise I wasn’t,” Jeff is whining, “but then you gave Danneel and I to the press, just threw me to the hounds and upset Lacey and my kids. I saw red. I had your picture, and it was a petty reaction. What you did this morning, for me. I can’t believe it. I know I wouldn’t have done it for you, and it makes me a jerk. I’m sorry, okay. I promise I had nothing to do with Linden. I was determined to let this run its course, to have a fair fight for the business. There was no reason for me to do it. I’m sorry.” Jeff drops his eyes and slumps a bit more. “They have all sorts of evidence though and I haven’t even got an alibi. It’s as if the person who did this knows me, knew what I’d be doing.”
Jared bites at his lip and even then he speaks with more malice than he intends. “It wasn’t Jensen. He didn’t have anything to do with any of it, so call your dogs off or I swear I will leave you here to rot, and pull our legal team out. I will do it. I have no good will left for you.” He cannot explain why he is suddenly sure Jensen is not the cause of their troubles, but he is nevertheless certain of it.
Jeff sits up straight and squints at his brother. He looks utterly lost. “Do you mean Jen? What dogs?”
Jared grabs Jeff by his collar and jerks him. His bruised ribs tighten with white hot agony. He ends up wheezing and lets him go. He whispers in a deep rasp, directly into Jeff’s ear, “Don’t test me, Jeff. Jensen Ackles, we both remember him. I met your hired man. It didn’t end well for him, and I’m out of patience. I fucking hurt. All over. Again.” Jared steps back and leans one hand on the wall for support, the other clutches at his chest.
“Why? I mean, I know Jen couldn’t have stolen my car from the lot. I had him tailed and he’s harmless enough, if a little obsessed. We probably deserve it. Our family treated him like shit. That’s all. I called off my investigator. There shouldn’t be anyone following him any more.” Jeff is confused, and if he’s not genuine, he’s faking it brilliantly. Jeff has never been that good a liar with Jared.
“Then why did someone try to kill him today? Why did that someone try to kill me?”
Jeff’s eyes widen and his mouth gapes. He looks directly at his brother for the first time since he entered the cell and he’s staring at the wounds on his face. “Shit! Jay. Look at you. I can’t believe I’m so selfish I didn’t notice,” He pauses thinking, and there’s panic in his voice when he speaks again, “Oh God! Do you think it’s the same person, I mean after you, after him? Do you think Jen saw anything? What do the cops think?”
He leans in close again, enough that his mouth is touching Jeff’s ear, to speak softly, “They don’t know. I had a car crash and that is all they will find out. Don’t fuck with me Jeff. I have Jim Beaver, remember? They weren’t after me. I wasn’t supposed to be there. Either you agree to call your contract off or I am out of that door and you can wait out your trial behind bars.”
He turns away and walks the few paces to the door, “What are you going to do Jeff?”
“I can’t call anybody off anyone. It’s not me. I haven’t done anything Jared,” he’s whining again, “Except the photo with Matt. I admit that. You never change your security codes and it was too easy. I took it from your safe months ago because I didn’t want you to show anybody, and now I’ve done what I never wanted anyone to do to you. I’m sorry. I said I was sorry. Please don’t leave me here. I know I deserve it, but I don’t belong here.” There’s desperation in his brother’s voice.
Something isn’t right. The confrontation isn’t going how Jared envisaged; there are none of Jeff’s usual guilty traits. He needs to be sure so he pushes the envelope, “I know about Becks too, Jeff.”
Jeff lifts his arms in question and shakes his head, “We both know about Becks, bro. There’s nothing different there. When will you stop blaming yourself and get over it?”
“I know what you did.”
“We all did it. It was a prank. A goddamn joke, Jared. It wasn’t intentional.”
“Taped vents and a real fire are pretty fucking intentional Jeff.” Jared has to know the truth. He can’t bite his tongue any longer. He has to hope there is no way for anyone to overhear them. The lawyer trusts this space to be private, so it should be.
Jeff is looking at him in horror, “The vents were open. I saw them. Are you saying I did something? There was no tape over the vents Jared, why would you say that?” His brother catches his breath and his brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t tape the vents, did you? I didn’t ask you to.”
“No, dumbass. I didn’t. Get yourself together, we’re going home.” Jared fights through the whirling confusion of his mind to concentrate on the tasks he has to complete.
“Home?”
“My house. You can’t stay in a hotel. It’s a condition of your bail.”
“I can stay with Danneel.”
“She doesn’t need the publicity. Do you see her with me?”
Jeff looks dejected, and Jared takes pity.
“Cheer up she trusts us to look after you. It would be stupid for her to risk her job. She sends her love.”
When they get home Jeff turns on the evening news. The Padalecki brothers are in the headlines for all the wrong reasons, and a known mobster has been found dead from a heroin overdose. There is speculation about turf wars. Jared snatches the remote and turns the TV off.
“Are you going to tell me what is going on with you and your crazy stalker? You’ve got Jim Beaver dredging over ancient history and it’s not going to make either one of you feel better,” Jeff is pressing the issue.
“They’re not connected. Not really.” Jared is muddled and it’s hard to explain. It is difficult to separate his original motives from his current, overwhelming, emotions. “I thought there might be a link to the Linden fire. Jen’s not crazy. I like him. I always did. Isn’t that enough? Can you at least respect that?”
“What about stalker do you not understand little brother? Misha used to say that Ackles would ruin you, I assumed he meant Josh, not his strange little brother.”
“Can we not do this now?” Jared is too tired to fight about it.
“You do know that nobody sealed any vents or did anything else to that store room at Becks, don’t you? If Jim told you that, he has to be misled about it. Cindy might have refused me but I didn’t care about it. She wasn’t exactly the dating type. Christ! She blew Misha in the toilets and then refused to speak to him for three weeks. I wasn’t upset; I just thought she could do with singed hair to humble her a little. We didn’t kill anyone Jared. You have to believe that.” Jeff seems genuinely concerned and he’s using the reassuring ‘big brother’ voice that soothed Jared so many times when they were young.
The painkillers are kicking in, and Jared wants to go to bed. He yawns, “Yeah. I guess.” He’s too tired for conversation and he can’t be bothered to be polite; Jeff can find his own way to the guest room. As he slips under the bedcovers Jared looks to the window. It feels lonely knowing that Jen isn’t in shadows, watching him.
Jared leaves a short note for Jeff when he creeps out of the house at 5:00 a.m. to get into a cab.
Jensen is pale and motionless. There are ink marks and untidy scribbles on a chart attached to a clipboard, but Jared doesn’t understand them. He’s holding it when a nurse bustles into the room.
“Goodness. I didn’t expect to find anyone here.” She’s far too chirpy for the time of the morning. “You must be Jared. Oh, my dear, you should be resting.”
“I slept for a while. I had to know how Jensen is. He offers the clipboard to her, “I don’t understand what it all means.”
“Well, his blood tests have been returned shockingly fast.” She arches a brow at Jared, “Never seen blood work done so quickly, money must really talk. He is clear of any complicating factors, there’s no blood infection or HIV. He’s responding well to antibiotics, so we should be able to remove his breathing assistance soon. The sedation was allowed to wear off briefly overnight, but Jensen panicked and tried to tear out his breathing tube and IV. It has been decided to keep him in a medically induced coma for now.”
“I should have been here.”
She pats him on his arm. “I’m not sure it would have helped, but I can make a note to ensure you are here when they reduce the sedatives again.”
“Thanks.” He breathes out.
She pulls over a comfortable armchair, “If you’re going to stay you should sit. Talk to him. He may be able to hear you.”
Jared tells Jensen that he has spoken to the vet. Sadie is recovering and is missing him. The veterinary nurse is awesome and is spoiling her with treats and chewy bones. He talks about the color of the sunrise and the art that he once hung in his own small gallery. He puts his face close and speaks about the kisses they shared; he reassures Jensen that he wanted the passion they shared in the showers. It was amazing, and Jensen shouldn’t be scared or worried about it. There’s a flicker of movement under Jensen’s eyelids, and Jared wonders what he’s dreaming about.
He rubs his hands through his hair and yawns again. Everything has stopped making sense, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing here or what he’s going to do next. “What am I doing Jen? What am I to you? I wish I knew what you want from me.” He thinks there’s the faintest flicker of movement in Jensen’s hand and he takes hold of it and rubs his thumb over the palm. “I want to get to know you, if you’ll let me.”
Chad arrives at ten and Jared smiles for the first time since everything went to hell. He had contacted Chad, Sophia and Christian, but he didn’t know if any of them would come. He explains the importance of security and is grateful that Chad doesn’t ask awkward questions. The ebullient blond just tells him to get a coffee because he’s got Jen for now.
Jared leans to one side as he sits, supporting his bandaged ribs with one hand, with a mug of coffee in the other. Jensen’s rucksack is on the floor, mocking him. It contains everything that is important enough for Jensen to keep with him. Jared unties the bed roll from the top, unclips the buckle and loosens the braid. The smooth black leather of Jen’s journal peeks from a thin roll of clothes. He touches it reverently with the pads of his fingers and strokes the worn surface then takes it from the bag and places it on the coffee table in the otherwise empty visitor kitchen. He taps his fingers on it and leaves it there.
The sketch paper and pastels that he gave to the tramp dominate the internal space of the bag. He retrieves the art pad and turns it in his hands but refrains from opening the cover. An artist reveals more of himself in his art than even a journal. There are remnants of the medicine that Alona purchased. What is left in the main compartment of the bag is sparse. There’s a multi purpose penknife, pouches of dog food, a comb, toothbrush and paste, soap and a nailbrush in a plastic wrap. In zipped compartments, Jared finds two keys. One is shiny and anonymous. The other bears the tag of a bus station locker. There is a leather wallet, of softest deerskin, inside that, his identity card and $30 in cash, a surprisingly large sum for a vagrant. There’s a silver ring too. Jared realizes, with a sickening jolt, that it is the one that Josh Ackles used to wear on his little finger. He repacks the rucksack but the journal and the sketchpad remain on the table. He grabs at the sketchpad and stuffs it hurriedly back into the dark fabric confines, determined not to pry. He allows himself a brief smile, considering the extent that Jensen has spied on Jared.
It leaves just the journal. He sips at his milky-sweet brew, eyes hardly leaving the leather casing. He eventually snatches it up and unclicks the pop fastener. Pages drop open. It’s an old fashioned filofax and the first thing that strikes him is the difference in condition of certain pages. Some are aged, well thumbed and yellowing. Others are bright new, white paper. The white pages are dated, in order and meticulously document Jen’s day with small line sketches, random numbers and lists. He closes his eyes and avoids reading them properly, despite the sketches that indicate that he features heavily in the detail. There are only a few weeks of the diary and Jared wonders what Jen does with the earlier days. He supposes he must dispose of them, or they are in the bus station locker. His eye catches on the last entry and he can’t stop himself from reading it. It draws him like a moth to a flame.
1/Make a statement to the police
2/Get therapy to remember how to talk
3/Find a home
4/Learn to be normal
It is a simple list and he thinks it might break his heart. He doesn’t want Jensen to be normal, he’s extraordinary and that’s okay. Jared admonishes himself for being distracted, the list isn’t what he’s looking for, that will be in the old pages.
He finds Jen’s list of friends and he traces his hand over it, there’s a tear in his eye when he notes that Christian was right about Jared not being included. He flicks to the pages at the start and finds the standard information page. It has been altered and there are angry lines through some of the original data but he can see the first date, Christmas 2001, love from Ma. There are phone numbers scribbled and crossed out. Jared scowls at the list. It looks like a dead end. There are two plastic pouches clipped in before the contacts list and he can’t resist reaching fingers inside to retrieve the contents. The first one contains a sparse set of newspaper clippings. A short headline article, a clipping about the record compensation pay out, and magazine photograph of Jeff, Jared and Misha attending the witness hearings, a smartly dressed and arrogant trinity.
The second pouch is far more personal and he should put it back as soon as he observes the content but he’s drawn with fascination to study the dog-eared photographs. Jensen and Josh pose for the camera in kindergarten. Jensen clearly doesn’t want to be there. Jensen, Josh and their Ma sit under the shade of a tree on a sunny day. Josh on his graduation day. Jared’s breath catches as he turns the last two over, there’s a poorly focused photograph of Josh with Jared in a diner, laughing at something together, and then there’s a snap of Jensen as a teenager. It’s an utterly unexpected image. Jensen is caught up in the snug embrace of Grandma Padalecki. He’s actually smiling into the camera and is obviously showing off a piece of his own art. He holds a portrait of Jared’s Grandma, painted in mellow colors with clever light and reflection. Jared remembers the soft safety and talc smell of his grandmother’s arms and he knows the portrait. He had admired it on his Grandma’s wall and she had left it to him in her will. It hangs over the desk in Jared’s study.
There’s a distant memory of an awkward Jensen being pushed into the after school art class by his mother one day, when everyone had virtually forgotten he existed. There was a fuss about it being an after-school club and as such home-schooled children weren’t allowed to attend. Jared was twelve by then, and he was sure that school had nothing to do with Jensen being excluded. Lauren had never been pushed out and she attended a different, catholic school. Jensen had set up his easel next to him, and Jared thought it more likely that it was Jensen’s painting of two men in a loving embrace which prompted the art tutor’s outrage. Jared had run to his grandmother’s for tea and made an indignant speech about equal rights and the unfairness of it all. His Grandma had tutted and agreed with him. He had stuffed his face with her cakes and tuned out her lecture of well known opinions that art should be available to everyone, regardless of money or class.
He wonders how many important details of every day life he missed, safe in his selfish bubble, when he was growing up. He’s delaying the inevitable though. He picks up his cell phone and dials. The first number is unavailable so he tries another. His heart lurches when someone picks up, a female voice with a familiar Texan accent, “Hello.”
“Hello. Is this Donna Ackles?”
“Who is this?”
“I’m a friend of Jensen, your son.”
“I have no son,” the voice is vague and unnatural.
“This is Donna Ackles?”
“Yes, but I have no son. He died. Goodbye.”
Jared’s eyes cloud over, “Wait! Mrs. Ackles. Jensen is ill, in hospital. At least speak to me.”
“I told you. I have no son,” there’s a click and a steady dial tone. When he redials there is no answer. It’s the first time that Jared is glad that Jensen is sedated. He replaces everything in the journal, in careful order. He won’t tell Jen that he spoke to his Ma.
Jared gets lost in memories of the past; trying to recall every last moment of contact he had with Jensen over his childhood. It is several strong coffees later that he halts his reverie to consider the conversations that he had with Jeff the night before. He pulls his cell phone from his pocket and calls his brother.
There’s barely an introduction and he doesn’t tell Jeff where he is. “What did you mean last night when you said Misha always said Ackles would ruin you but I assumed he meant Josh?”
There’s silence, then a weak, “I thought you knew.”
“I swear I will rescind your bail if you don’t tell me Jeff.”
“It was nothing.”
“Would you like to be someone’s prison bitch? Just tell me.”
There’s another silence and then a loud sigh, “You didn’t really think that Becks was about Cindy and Josh did you?”
Part 15
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