Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 11/19
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Part Eleven
Jensen surveyed the area beyond the exit. They were on a remote corner of the ranch. An ancient horse cart and an old army Jeep stood under camouflage netting, in an overgrown, stable yard. The truck would take him far enough, then it was a simple matter of disposing of Jared’s body and getting back before Quintas asked for a tally. Danneel's necklace was going to be a classy piece of work, if he made it back.
Breaking into the truck was simple. He maneuvered Jared's semi-conscious body into the passenger seat, and hot-wired the ignition. There was a spark, but the engine didn't start, and he cursed. He tried again. It whirred and coughed, black smoke puffed from the exhaust. Shit. He wondered what the shortest route to the perimeter was, and how visible they would be.
Jared stirred and looked hazily around him, “There's a farm track, the trotters used to take. Truck might make it,” he mumbled through obscenely swollen lips. His head fell back against the vinyl headrest of the seat, and Jensen could see he was crying silent tears, “Sorry. I screw up everybody's life.” Jared mumbled. Jensen watched blood drip from his nose, and trickle over his lips, where he licked it away.
Gears crunched and Jensen revved the engine. He tried to ignore the twisting of his gut that had started with Jared's apology. If anyone had done enough to atone and change, it was Jared. He had asked to die, and Jensen knew whatever awful things he had done (and there were too many to list), he would never have the courage to face the penalty with such dignity. “Don't apologize to me,” was all that he said, and it sounded harsh, even to his own ears.
Wheels spun, and then they reversed rapidly, and were free of the courtyard. Jensen scanned their surroundings for evidence of a track, and found the merest hint of a dried mud trail leading through nearby woodland. He gunned it across open space, jostling and bumping over rough ground until they were between cover of trees.
A snuffle to his side reminded him how much this must be hurting his passenger. It crossed his mind to put him out of his misery, now that they were out of view, but he dismissed it, knowing that Jared would, quite literally, be dead weight to carry. If there was another reason, he chose to ignore it. Jensen steered carefully between two overgrown trees that dipped their branches, to bang on the roof of the Jeep.
“You're good at this. Sophie said you were the best. She wanted to be you. She never stopped believing in you.”
Jensen startled. Jared's speech was labored, yet still he attempted to engage Jensen. Jensen tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried not to remember Sophie's disappointment, on the day he left.
Jared coughed before he spoke again. Droplets of his blood sprinkled the interior windshield. “This would have destroyed her.”
Would Jensen have taken the job if Sophie had lived? He wouldn't have known she was on the President's detail. Jensen liked to imagine he wouldn't have accepted the mission, but the black shadow on his soul begged to differ.
Gloomy forest gave way to dappled light, and a narrow country road lay ahead. Before it stood a gate, complete with checkpoint. “Oh, crap!” An overturned vehicle blazed at the center of a mob.
“Get down.” Jensen ordered. He considered turning the Jeep around, and digging a grave in the densest part of the compound wood, but he knew he wouldn't. From the moment Misha shoved them through the door, Jensen had known where he was going. He simply didn't understand why. Ten years was a long time. He prayed the establishment he was heading for was still in business. Jensen gunned the accelerator again, and hoped the truck would make it.
Jared bobbed his head up in horror, “You're going to kill someone.”
Jensen pushed him down and ducked behind the steering wheel, making sure to keep it straight, “Better them than us.” Rocks clunked on the windshield and roof, and bullets pinged. The Jeep gathered speed as it neared the road, running smooth on the checkpoint asphalt. The bright flicker of fire reflected into the car, but it passed with the thunk of a body against the hood, and a glimpse of legs tumbling through the air. They hit the gate with an almighty crack of breaking timber and the crash of folding metal. For a fraction of a moment, the front end of the Jeep halted as the back end continued. Tires left the surface and Jared was thrown sideways within his seat belt, to glance against Jensen with bruising force. He yelped in pain. Rubber burned, and Jensen concentrated on the muscle-wrenching effort of holding the Jeep in a controlled 360 spin until the last moment, when he fishtailed out of it, skidded onto the road and accelerated once again. He drove like a bat out of hell until the ranch perimeter disappeared from the rear view mirror.
He forced himself to slow to the speed limit once they were clear. They had to get off the main route. His memories of the area were distant and unclear, but he had spent hours memorizing maps before his mission.
“Sophie would have done it anyway. You and me, we never could stop her.” Jared rallied again, slurring speech on fat lips.
“You don't know anything about me,” Jensen snapped.
Jared leaned against the headrest with a whimper of pain. “I know you're beating yourself up about not being there. She grew up, Jensen. She didn't accept that being in a female body meant she should be treated differently. She hated that sexist shit, and she cared, she really cared, about the ordinary people. I don't know if Pa chose her unit because of the baby, but I know he should have chosen it, because she was the best. She wouldn't accept any different. If she had the choice, it would have been the same outcome. Women and children die every day in this country, and it was her job to protect them. She was always soldier first and woman after that. If she had to die, she wanted her death to be in a cause, not for money, or while running away. If you can't see that, you didn't know her.”
Jensen braked and pulled over into a secluded area. He cut the engine, rested his forehead against the cool of the steering wheel and remembered to breathe slowly. Ross had an expiration date. Every member of JD's team did. Retirement was a pipe-dream; you went out on the job, or you went crazy, and it didn't matter because there was nobody to grieve you. Jensen thought that perhaps Ross had reached the end of the line, because what he was doing was crazy.
Jared's panic at coming to a halt was obvious. Clumsy hands clicked the seat belt off, and he reached for his door handle. Jensen rolled his eyes as Jared tumbled gracelessly to the gravel below. He let him have a few shambled steps head-start, before sliding across the seats, exiting on the same side, and tackling him to the ground. He straddled the long slim body, pinning Jared's arms to his sides. Jared looked away from his face. He didn't struggle. “So, this is it?” he asked, flatly, “Because, I really need to piss, and I don't want to, when…well, y'know. It's a humiliating last moment.”
It was ridiculous and sensible, and so Jared. Jensen thought he might laugh, but in the moment it was heart-wrenching. Jared was terrified, humiliated and in agony. Jensen had done that to him. He had built him up to be an arrogant, selfish monster and attributed evil to him that wasn't there. Jared was just a foolish, undisciplined teenager. He wondered how much of his own anger he had reflected back onto the kid.
Jensen had made Jared his baby boy and promised to keep him safe, and his betrayal of that promise tasted sour in his mouth. He wanted to kiss Jared, cradle him in his arms and reassure him, but he knew that he had broken every piece of trust and affection between them. He would take Jared to safety and leave him there, in the hope that one day he would heal. “I'm not going to kill you. I've got somewhere you can go.”
Jared looked wary, “My slave, Jensen, is missing. You don't exist, and you are the only person who knows I didn't kill Fin or Jensen. You aren't going to tell them I didn't do it, are you?”
“No.” Jensen shook his head, sadly.
“Then there is no place I won't be hunted down. You may as well finish me.” Jared slumped in defeat.
“There is some place for somebody like you. C'mon, baby boy.” He helped Jared up, let him lean into him for support, and helped him with his zipper, so he could relieve himself. He half carried and half dragged him to the Jeep, where he rooted through his pack for first aid supplies. He was amazed that the kid had managed to get as far as he had. He washed his cuts and put a dressing over the carved mark on his cheek before drawing up a dose of morphine in a syringe.
“Why not kill me?” Jared frowned in confusion. He watched the needle and winced at the prick of its entry.
Jensen pressed the syringe plunger and then removed it delicately, and wiped the wound clean. “You're right about Sophie. You're right about me, and you should get a chance to build bridges one day.”
“Oh.” Jared sounded disappointed.
“What?”
“I was hoping it was because you loved me. I really am dumb aren't I?”
Jensen stroked Jared's ruined and sticky hair, the kid was starting to succumb to the morphine. “Not dumb, but you do have poor taste in men.”
“I know. I hate you so much.” Jared's eyes lost the fight to stay open.
There was an old blanket that covered the back seat. Jensen grabbed it and tucked it over Jared.
The Jeep coughed, spluttered and clanked but it started first time. Jensen eased it onto the highway, calculating a route as he drove.
Jared watched from the Volkswagen they had stolen at a service station. His nose throbbed, his head was hammering, and every part of him ached. He thought he was bleeding again. He wasn't sure how long they'd been on the road, but he remembered snippets of it. They had driven and hidden through the night. He remembered painful detours over bumpy farmland, and Jensen shooting soldiers at a checkpoint.
If he ran, he wouldn't get far. Jared knew he was high on medication. His pain had receded to a manageable level and buildings swayed whenever he moved. It was therefore uncertain if his assessment of 'The Road House' was totally fair. It resembled a hotel, painted in muted colors, with a sturdy wooden door, but a light on the stoop glowed red. The sign above the door had a subtle montage of hearts, and a cheeky animė painting of a schoolgirl and schoolboy with fingers shushing their lips. The framed certificate by the door declared the business to be 'licensed and hygienic'. Jared thought it might be a brothel.
Nobody answered the front door, and Jensen battered it with his fist, to no avail. Eventually he gave up, and returned to the car. He opened the passenger-side door and put his arms around Jared, to help him out. “C'mon, baby boy, not letting you out of my sight.”
Jared staggered in his hold, through an alley, to a weathered side-door. Jensen banged loudly, stepped back and hollered up at grimy windows, “One of you worthless whores has to be awake.” It seemed needlessly antagonistic to Jared, but Jensen shushed him before he could protest.
Sure enough, there was the sound of deadbolts being unfastened, and the door opened just enough for the barrel of a gun to poke through. A woman spoke. “We're closed until three, and there are no appointments on the books, so you better take your drunk goddamn asses away, before we call the cops.”
Jensen grabbed the gun barrel and deflected it downwards. “It's an emergency. I need to speak to Madame Ferris.”
“Madame Ferris will not come to the door before noon. I suggest you call for an appointment.”
“I said, it's urgent.” Jensen kicked his foot into the opening to stop the door being slammed.
Heavy footsteps approached, and the door swung open to reveal a huge, well-built man in pajamas, shielding a slight brunette girl in a bathrobe, who held the rifle.
“Let me put this in words of one syllable, get lost,” growled the giant, squaring up to Jensen, but the girl took a second glance at Jared, before he moved to slam the door against Jensen's foot.
Jensen didn't back down. “I swear Madame will kick you to the street, and the whore will have last pickings if you don't tell her I'm here.”
The man flexed rock hard muscles, “Why should we believe you?”
Jared sensed Jensen's frustration, but the mercenary's tone remained calm, “Tell her it's China. Tell her I came back.”
The giant growled and curled his fist. The little brunette peered around her protector, to appraise Jensen. She tugged on the man's sleeve. “Wait, Clif! We should check. Let them in.”
“Are you mad?” Clif asked her.
“The boy looks half dead. I've heard Madame mention a China, from a long time ago, long enough for him to be this old.” She tucked the rifle down by her side and pushed Clif out of the way to make room for Jensen to carry Jared in.
“I am not old,” sniped Jensen, as he passed the girl, and she giggled.
The room they were taken to was large and opulently decorated, with tastefully placed mirrors, candles and flowers. There were comfortable couches, giant armchairs and a chaise longue, but thick velvet curtains remained closed against the day. Jensen settled Jared to lie with his head on his lap, on a soft leather sofa. Clif offered coffee, and Jensen accepted a cup for himself and asked for water for Jared.
A clock ticked. Jared shut his eyes and let himself drift on the fog of morphine. It smelled nice here, like Jensen, lavender and laundry. Jared didn't think he had the energy to ask where they were, or what would happen to him. He didn't know if he cared.
Madame was older, of course, but still beautiful, and not a little formidable. Auburn hair, tinged with gray, cascaded over her shoulders, and her soft brown eyes were accented with crow's feet. She was dressed casually in jeans and her plaid shirt was unbuttoned just enough to hint at her cleavage.
Jensen stood up straight and directed his gaze to the floor as she entered the room. “Madame Ferris,” he greeted humbly.
“You may look at me. I wish to see you properly.” She nodded to Clif, who opened the heavy curtains with a swish. Her elegantly manicured fingers reached to tilt his chin and she looked at Jensen, like a bug under a microscope. Soft fingertips brushed over the scar on his cheek, and she looked saddened at its ugliness. For the first time in years, Jensen felt vulnerable in another's presence. He stayed in place as the Madame perched on the couch by Jared, put a palm to his forehead to check his temperature, and stared hard at his injuries.
She spoke to Jensen. “Well, sit down, boy.” She produced a cigarette from a silver case, tapped it on the engraved metal and lit it with a dainty crystal lighter. She took a puff and offered one to Jensen.
“No. It's a disgusting habit.”
Madame Ferris smiled at his rejoinder, “I needed to be sure.” She waved Clif out of the room. “It took you ten years to pay a visit, China, and you bring me a boy as pale and shattered as you once were. I would say you're looking good, but you look like you've been at the center of an explosion, and you smell like you got dragged through a cow field.”
Jensen sniffed self-consciously and jumped up from the armchair he was in. “We hid in a barn, sorry.”
“Sit! We do have freshening products, China.”
Jensen perched on the edge of the chair.
Madame Ferris blew a smoke ring and eyed him thoughtfully, “Were you at the center of an explosion, boy? Should I expect the military at my door? Though God knows, I've lost track of whose army might knock. It's all the same to us. Equal opportunity fucking.”
“We weren't followed,” he confirmed.
“What do you want, China?” She got down to business.
“The boy needs medical attention; he needs somewhere to be …,”
“…someone else.” She finished his sentence for him. “You're giving me flashbacks. You were such a pretty young twink. Look at you, grown up and rough around the edges. Still, some of our clients go for that sort of thing.”
“Not me, just him.”
“It's going to be expensive.” She watched a curl of smoke dance in a ray of light, “Has he got money, or is this on you?”
“No, there's nothing. He's on his own.”
She looked at Jared again, ran a finger over his chest, and tilted her head at the sudden glimpse of shocked hazel eyes when she traced her other hand up the inside of his thigh. “Interesting. He isn't as young as you were, but he's young. Is he twenty one?”
“He's whatever age his papers say he is.”
Ferris gave a wry grin, “You know my terms. Does he know them?”
“He doesn't even know where he is, but he's all out of options.”
She stroked Jared's shoulder. “Poor baby. He could sell himself - but, oh, wait, he would need to confirm his identity. Did you know there was a coup? Quintas got fed up of waiting for an election. I hear Padalecki's son is unaccounted for.” She gave a dry chuckle. “Oh, what trouble are you bringing me, China?”
“It's difficult to know what to believe these days.”
“Hmm,” she mused. She flicked ash into a polished silver ashtray, “Josie came by a while back. I asked about you. She said you left the country, and that you were whoring again, in a whole different way. Seems you stopped caring, so, why do you care about the boy?”
Jensen opened his mouth to deny it, but she carried on, “So, you got older. I still know you like a mother. Ten years, I don't see you, because you put us behind you and deny what you were. I can understand that. You found your feet, you moved on. It's natural progression, but then you're back. You're dressed as a soldier and acting like a lover, and you tell me that you're dumping this kid here, and he doesn't even know where here is.”
“He can't come with me. I shouldn't have done this…I did this...he was a job, and it wasn't the plan. He's not got anywhere, or anyone.”
Jared shifted on the couch and moaned in pain.
Ferris's eyebrow quirked high. She stubbed her cigarette out in her ashtray, flipped her cell and dialed, with one finger outstretched to silence Jensen.
“Mandy? It's Sam Ferris over at the Road House. I need Doc Williams here as soon as he's done with morning surgery. Yeah, it's one of my boys, he got beaten bad. No, no, it's quiet here. He got caught up in one of those demonstrations. Thanks. We owe you one.” She gave a filthy laugh, “You know you can come by any evening and take me up on that favor. The good doctor sure does.” She snapped the phone closed, and pinned Jensen with a piercing stare. “You don't leave until your boy is coherent. I won't be accused of abduction.”
“I can't. I have a rendezvous.”
“Then he goes with you.”
Jensen could see by her stance that she was immoveable on the matter. He conceded to her. There had been no message from Misha or JD, and he knew that once Jared was settled, Ferris wouldn't abandon him, even if Jensen sneaked away.
“Clif!” Madame Ferris called her bouncer in, from just outside the door. “Be a doll and organize a room for these boys. China can sort out a shower and fresh clothing for himself, he knows his way around.” She looked at Jensen. “Only the décor and employees have changed.”
“Got to have them young, eh?”
“It's all about the bottom line. Customers like 'em young.”
Clif looked between Jensen and Jared, considering his order, “A working room or a personal room, ma'am?”
“Would I let anyone work in their condition, Clif?” She shook her head slowly, “Can't get the staff these days,” she muttered. “China, if you ever want a job on my security, you know you're welcome here.”
Someone came to see Jared. He was tall, black and rugged. He said he was a doctor but he didn't wear a white coat.
Jared discovered he was naked under the sheets of a modest bed, when the man pulled back the soft cotton to probe at his wounds. He struggled to get away from his touch but found himself held firm in a strange woman's grip. He blushed and struggled harder, and the doctor laughed, deep and booming, “You'd think you had something to hide, boy. Settle down. I need to see what damage has been done.”
“It's been traumatic. He's bound to be sensitive,” the woman explained.
Jared tried to put the pieces of his memory together. He didn't know where he was or who these people were, but the bed was comfortable, and he wasn't in a cell. The room had pink daisy wall-paper, and the door had an interior bolt, rather than a lock. His lips were swollen and dried blood caked the splits together. He attempted to flex his mouth to talk, but it hurt too much.
The doctor talked over Jared, to the woman who held him. “There is probably some concussion, he certainly seems confused. If it continues, you should call me. His ribs are badly bruised, there could be a hairline crack but it should heal without help. The stab wound is shallow. He's lucky, there's no sign of internal bleeding. His nose is broken. I will tape it in place so it sets straight. I'll stitch the cut on his cheek, and the splits by his lip but the cheek will certainly scar, which is a pity in his profession. I'll make it as neat as possible and give you ointment to lessen the mark. Usually, I would recommend a hospital visit, but in the current chaos there have been bombings and flash mobs. It would be better to stay away. I'll give you some painkillers, morphine is a little extreme. Where did you get that anyway?”
The woman shrugged, “A friend of his gave it to him.” She let go of Jared's wrists and pulled the covers over him, tucking him in like a child.
“He's shocked and lost a lot of blood, so keep him warm and quiet. Build him up slowly, with good food and gentle exercise. He can return to light work when the bruising around his eyes starts to fade, but you'll need to keep the enthusiastic customers away from him for at least three weeks.” He wrote a script and gave it to the woman. “I haven't noticed him before. Under those bruises he's lovely, very foxy. I can't see the scar keeping customers away.” He stroked Jared's arm in a comforting gesture.
Jared wondered if he was dreaming, or maybe he had amnesia. The last thing he remembered was Jensen knocking on a door in a run-down alley, and now he had a job?
He was lucid enough not to protest when the stitches went in. The strange woman held his hand with a gentle squeeze, like his mother would have done, which seemed weird, but nice, and there was some sort of gel that numbed his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited until it was over.
The woman saw the doctor out and returned to sit beside Jared. “Don't think too hard, we haven't met. The pretense was necessary. My name is Madame Ferris, and that is how you will address me. Here, it doesn't matter who you were, or what you've done. If you work hard and follow my rules, I will keep you safe. China will explain.
“Rules?” Jared whispered through barely-open lips.
“Mm-Hm, Baby Blue. They keep our world safe.”
Who, or what, was China? Jared didn't know what to think, so he stopped trying. His bed was cozy. He went back to sleep.
Part twelve
Part Eleven
Jensen surveyed the area beyond the exit. They were on a remote corner of the ranch. An ancient horse cart and an old army Jeep stood under camouflage netting, in an overgrown, stable yard. The truck would take him far enough, then it was a simple matter of disposing of Jared’s body and getting back before Quintas asked for a tally. Danneel's necklace was going to be a classy piece of work, if he made it back.
Breaking into the truck was simple. He maneuvered Jared's semi-conscious body into the passenger seat, and hot-wired the ignition. There was a spark, but the engine didn't start, and he cursed. He tried again. It whirred and coughed, black smoke puffed from the exhaust. Shit. He wondered what the shortest route to the perimeter was, and how visible they would be.
Jared stirred and looked hazily around him, “There's a farm track, the trotters used to take. Truck might make it,” he mumbled through obscenely swollen lips. His head fell back against the vinyl headrest of the seat, and Jensen could see he was crying silent tears, “Sorry. I screw up everybody's life.” Jared mumbled. Jensen watched blood drip from his nose, and trickle over his lips, where he licked it away.
Gears crunched and Jensen revved the engine. He tried to ignore the twisting of his gut that had started with Jared's apology. If anyone had done enough to atone and change, it was Jared. He had asked to die, and Jensen knew whatever awful things he had done (and there were too many to list), he would never have the courage to face the penalty with such dignity. “Don't apologize to me,” was all that he said, and it sounded harsh, even to his own ears.
Wheels spun, and then they reversed rapidly, and were free of the courtyard. Jensen scanned their surroundings for evidence of a track, and found the merest hint of a dried mud trail leading through nearby woodland. He gunned it across open space, jostling and bumping over rough ground until they were between cover of trees.
A snuffle to his side reminded him how much this must be hurting his passenger. It crossed his mind to put him out of his misery, now that they were out of view, but he dismissed it, knowing that Jared would, quite literally, be dead weight to carry. If there was another reason, he chose to ignore it. Jensen steered carefully between two overgrown trees that dipped their branches, to bang on the roof of the Jeep.
“You're good at this. Sophie said you were the best. She wanted to be you. She never stopped believing in you.”
Jensen startled. Jared's speech was labored, yet still he attempted to engage Jensen. Jensen tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried not to remember Sophie's disappointment, on the day he left.
Jared coughed before he spoke again. Droplets of his blood sprinkled the interior windshield. “This would have destroyed her.”
Would Jensen have taken the job if Sophie had lived? He wouldn't have known she was on the President's detail. Jensen liked to imagine he wouldn't have accepted the mission, but the black shadow on his soul begged to differ.
Gloomy forest gave way to dappled light, and a narrow country road lay ahead. Before it stood a gate, complete with checkpoint. “Oh, crap!” An overturned vehicle blazed at the center of a mob.
“Get down.” Jensen ordered. He considered turning the Jeep around, and digging a grave in the densest part of the compound wood, but he knew he wouldn't. From the moment Misha shoved them through the door, Jensen had known where he was going. He simply didn't understand why. Ten years was a long time. He prayed the establishment he was heading for was still in business. Jensen gunned the accelerator again, and hoped the truck would make it.
Jared bobbed his head up in horror, “You're going to kill someone.”
Jensen pushed him down and ducked behind the steering wheel, making sure to keep it straight, “Better them than us.” Rocks clunked on the windshield and roof, and bullets pinged. The Jeep gathered speed as it neared the road, running smooth on the checkpoint asphalt. The bright flicker of fire reflected into the car, but it passed with the thunk of a body against the hood, and a glimpse of legs tumbling through the air. They hit the gate with an almighty crack of breaking timber and the crash of folding metal. For a fraction of a moment, the front end of the Jeep halted as the back end continued. Tires left the surface and Jared was thrown sideways within his seat belt, to glance against Jensen with bruising force. He yelped in pain. Rubber burned, and Jensen concentrated on the muscle-wrenching effort of holding the Jeep in a controlled 360 spin until the last moment, when he fishtailed out of it, skidded onto the road and accelerated once again. He drove like a bat out of hell until the ranch perimeter disappeared from the rear view mirror.
He forced himself to slow to the speed limit once they were clear. They had to get off the main route. His memories of the area were distant and unclear, but he had spent hours memorizing maps before his mission.
“Sophie would have done it anyway. You and me, we never could stop her.” Jared rallied again, slurring speech on fat lips.
“You don't know anything about me,” Jensen snapped.
Jared leaned against the headrest with a whimper of pain. “I know you're beating yourself up about not being there. She grew up, Jensen. She didn't accept that being in a female body meant she should be treated differently. She hated that sexist shit, and she cared, she really cared, about the ordinary people. I don't know if Pa chose her unit because of the baby, but I know he should have chosen it, because she was the best. She wouldn't accept any different. If she had the choice, it would have been the same outcome. Women and children die every day in this country, and it was her job to protect them. She was always soldier first and woman after that. If she had to die, she wanted her death to be in a cause, not for money, or while running away. If you can't see that, you didn't know her.”
Jensen braked and pulled over into a secluded area. He cut the engine, rested his forehead against the cool of the steering wheel and remembered to breathe slowly. Ross had an expiration date. Every member of JD's team did. Retirement was a pipe-dream; you went out on the job, or you went crazy, and it didn't matter because there was nobody to grieve you. Jensen thought that perhaps Ross had reached the end of the line, because what he was doing was crazy.
Jared's panic at coming to a halt was obvious. Clumsy hands clicked the seat belt off, and he reached for his door handle. Jensen rolled his eyes as Jared tumbled gracelessly to the gravel below. He let him have a few shambled steps head-start, before sliding across the seats, exiting on the same side, and tackling him to the ground. He straddled the long slim body, pinning Jared's arms to his sides. Jared looked away from his face. He didn't struggle. “So, this is it?” he asked, flatly, “Because, I really need to piss, and I don't want to, when…well, y'know. It's a humiliating last moment.”
It was ridiculous and sensible, and so Jared. Jensen thought he might laugh, but in the moment it was heart-wrenching. Jared was terrified, humiliated and in agony. Jensen had done that to him. He had built him up to be an arrogant, selfish monster and attributed evil to him that wasn't there. Jared was just a foolish, undisciplined teenager. He wondered how much of his own anger he had reflected back onto the kid.
Jensen had made Jared his baby boy and promised to keep him safe, and his betrayal of that promise tasted sour in his mouth. He wanted to kiss Jared, cradle him in his arms and reassure him, but he knew that he had broken every piece of trust and affection between them. He would take Jared to safety and leave him there, in the hope that one day he would heal. “I'm not going to kill you. I've got somewhere you can go.”
Jared looked wary, “My slave, Jensen, is missing. You don't exist, and you are the only person who knows I didn't kill Fin or Jensen. You aren't going to tell them I didn't do it, are you?”
“No.” Jensen shook his head, sadly.
“Then there is no place I won't be hunted down. You may as well finish me.” Jared slumped in defeat.
“There is some place for somebody like you. C'mon, baby boy.” He helped Jared up, let him lean into him for support, and helped him with his zipper, so he could relieve himself. He half carried and half dragged him to the Jeep, where he rooted through his pack for first aid supplies. He was amazed that the kid had managed to get as far as he had. He washed his cuts and put a dressing over the carved mark on his cheek before drawing up a dose of morphine in a syringe.
“Why not kill me?” Jared frowned in confusion. He watched the needle and winced at the prick of its entry.
Jensen pressed the syringe plunger and then removed it delicately, and wiped the wound clean. “You're right about Sophie. You're right about me, and you should get a chance to build bridges one day.”
“Oh.” Jared sounded disappointed.
“What?”
“I was hoping it was because you loved me. I really am dumb aren't I?”
Jensen stroked Jared's ruined and sticky hair, the kid was starting to succumb to the morphine. “Not dumb, but you do have poor taste in men.”
“I know. I hate you so much.” Jared's eyes lost the fight to stay open.
There was an old blanket that covered the back seat. Jensen grabbed it and tucked it over Jared.
The Jeep coughed, spluttered and clanked but it started first time. Jensen eased it onto the highway, calculating a route as he drove.
Jared watched from the Volkswagen they had stolen at a service station. His nose throbbed, his head was hammering, and every part of him ached. He thought he was bleeding again. He wasn't sure how long they'd been on the road, but he remembered snippets of it. They had driven and hidden through the night. He remembered painful detours over bumpy farmland, and Jensen shooting soldiers at a checkpoint.
If he ran, he wouldn't get far. Jared knew he was high on medication. His pain had receded to a manageable level and buildings swayed whenever he moved. It was therefore uncertain if his assessment of 'The Road House' was totally fair. It resembled a hotel, painted in muted colors, with a sturdy wooden door, but a light on the stoop glowed red. The sign above the door had a subtle montage of hearts, and a cheeky animė painting of a schoolgirl and schoolboy with fingers shushing their lips. The framed certificate by the door declared the business to be 'licensed and hygienic'. Jared thought it might be a brothel.
Nobody answered the front door, and Jensen battered it with his fist, to no avail. Eventually he gave up, and returned to the car. He opened the passenger-side door and put his arms around Jared, to help him out. “C'mon, baby boy, not letting you out of my sight.”
Jared staggered in his hold, through an alley, to a weathered side-door. Jensen banged loudly, stepped back and hollered up at grimy windows, “One of you worthless whores has to be awake.” It seemed needlessly antagonistic to Jared, but Jensen shushed him before he could protest.
Sure enough, there was the sound of deadbolts being unfastened, and the door opened just enough for the barrel of a gun to poke through. A woman spoke. “We're closed until three, and there are no appointments on the books, so you better take your drunk goddamn asses away, before we call the cops.”
Jensen grabbed the gun barrel and deflected it downwards. “It's an emergency. I need to speak to Madame Ferris.”
“Madame Ferris will not come to the door before noon. I suggest you call for an appointment.”
“I said, it's urgent.” Jensen kicked his foot into the opening to stop the door being slammed.
Heavy footsteps approached, and the door swung open to reveal a huge, well-built man in pajamas, shielding a slight brunette girl in a bathrobe, who held the rifle.
“Let me put this in words of one syllable, get lost,” growled the giant, squaring up to Jensen, but the girl took a second glance at Jared, before he moved to slam the door against Jensen's foot.
Jensen didn't back down. “I swear Madame will kick you to the street, and the whore will have last pickings if you don't tell her I'm here.”
The man flexed rock hard muscles, “Why should we believe you?”
Jared sensed Jensen's frustration, but the mercenary's tone remained calm, “Tell her it's China. Tell her I came back.”
The giant growled and curled his fist. The little brunette peered around her protector, to appraise Jensen. She tugged on the man's sleeve. “Wait, Clif! We should check. Let them in.”
“Are you mad?” Clif asked her.
“The boy looks half dead. I've heard Madame mention a China, from a long time ago, long enough for him to be this old.” She tucked the rifle down by her side and pushed Clif out of the way to make room for Jensen to carry Jared in.
“I am not old,” sniped Jensen, as he passed the girl, and she giggled.
The room they were taken to was large and opulently decorated, with tastefully placed mirrors, candles and flowers. There were comfortable couches, giant armchairs and a chaise longue, but thick velvet curtains remained closed against the day. Jensen settled Jared to lie with his head on his lap, on a soft leather sofa. Clif offered coffee, and Jensen accepted a cup for himself and asked for water for Jared.
A clock ticked. Jared shut his eyes and let himself drift on the fog of morphine. It smelled nice here, like Jensen, lavender and laundry. Jared didn't think he had the energy to ask where they were, or what would happen to him. He didn't know if he cared.
Madame was older, of course, but still beautiful, and not a little formidable. Auburn hair, tinged with gray, cascaded over her shoulders, and her soft brown eyes were accented with crow's feet. She was dressed casually in jeans and her plaid shirt was unbuttoned just enough to hint at her cleavage.
Jensen stood up straight and directed his gaze to the floor as she entered the room. “Madame Ferris,” he greeted humbly.
“You may look at me. I wish to see you properly.” She nodded to Clif, who opened the heavy curtains with a swish. Her elegantly manicured fingers reached to tilt his chin and she looked at Jensen, like a bug under a microscope. Soft fingertips brushed over the scar on his cheek, and she looked saddened at its ugliness. For the first time in years, Jensen felt vulnerable in another's presence. He stayed in place as the Madame perched on the couch by Jared, put a palm to his forehead to check his temperature, and stared hard at his injuries.
She spoke to Jensen. “Well, sit down, boy.” She produced a cigarette from a silver case, tapped it on the engraved metal and lit it with a dainty crystal lighter. She took a puff and offered one to Jensen.
“No. It's a disgusting habit.”
Madame Ferris smiled at his rejoinder, “I needed to be sure.” She waved Clif out of the room. “It took you ten years to pay a visit, China, and you bring me a boy as pale and shattered as you once were. I would say you're looking good, but you look like you've been at the center of an explosion, and you smell like you got dragged through a cow field.”
Jensen sniffed self-consciously and jumped up from the armchair he was in. “We hid in a barn, sorry.”
“Sit! We do have freshening products, China.”
Jensen perched on the edge of the chair.
Madame Ferris blew a smoke ring and eyed him thoughtfully, “Were you at the center of an explosion, boy? Should I expect the military at my door? Though God knows, I've lost track of whose army might knock. It's all the same to us. Equal opportunity fucking.”
“We weren't followed,” he confirmed.
“What do you want, China?” She got down to business.
“The boy needs medical attention; he needs somewhere to be …,”
“…someone else.” She finished his sentence for him. “You're giving me flashbacks. You were such a pretty young twink. Look at you, grown up and rough around the edges. Still, some of our clients go for that sort of thing.”
“Not me, just him.”
“It's going to be expensive.” She watched a curl of smoke dance in a ray of light, “Has he got money, or is this on you?”
“No, there's nothing. He's on his own.”
She looked at Jared again, ran a finger over his chest, and tilted her head at the sudden glimpse of shocked hazel eyes when she traced her other hand up the inside of his thigh. “Interesting. He isn't as young as you were, but he's young. Is he twenty one?”
“He's whatever age his papers say he is.”
Ferris gave a wry grin, “You know my terms. Does he know them?”
“He doesn't even know where he is, but he's all out of options.”
She stroked Jared's shoulder. “Poor baby. He could sell himself - but, oh, wait, he would need to confirm his identity. Did you know there was a coup? Quintas got fed up of waiting for an election. I hear Padalecki's son is unaccounted for.” She gave a dry chuckle. “Oh, what trouble are you bringing me, China?”
“It's difficult to know what to believe these days.”
“Hmm,” she mused. She flicked ash into a polished silver ashtray, “Josie came by a while back. I asked about you. She said you left the country, and that you were whoring again, in a whole different way. Seems you stopped caring, so, why do you care about the boy?”
Jensen opened his mouth to deny it, but she carried on, “So, you got older. I still know you like a mother. Ten years, I don't see you, because you put us behind you and deny what you were. I can understand that. You found your feet, you moved on. It's natural progression, but then you're back. You're dressed as a soldier and acting like a lover, and you tell me that you're dumping this kid here, and he doesn't even know where here is.”
“He can't come with me. I shouldn't have done this…I did this...he was a job, and it wasn't the plan. He's not got anywhere, or anyone.”
Jared shifted on the couch and moaned in pain.
Ferris's eyebrow quirked high. She stubbed her cigarette out in her ashtray, flipped her cell and dialed, with one finger outstretched to silence Jensen.
“Mandy? It's Sam Ferris over at the Road House. I need Doc Williams here as soon as he's done with morning surgery. Yeah, it's one of my boys, he got beaten bad. No, no, it's quiet here. He got caught up in one of those demonstrations. Thanks. We owe you one.” She gave a filthy laugh, “You know you can come by any evening and take me up on that favor. The good doctor sure does.” She snapped the phone closed, and pinned Jensen with a piercing stare. “You don't leave until your boy is coherent. I won't be accused of abduction.”
“I can't. I have a rendezvous.”
“Then he goes with you.”
Jensen could see by her stance that she was immoveable on the matter. He conceded to her. There had been no message from Misha or JD, and he knew that once Jared was settled, Ferris wouldn't abandon him, even if Jensen sneaked away.
“Clif!” Madame Ferris called her bouncer in, from just outside the door. “Be a doll and organize a room for these boys. China can sort out a shower and fresh clothing for himself, he knows his way around.” She looked at Jensen. “Only the décor and employees have changed.”
“Got to have them young, eh?”
“It's all about the bottom line. Customers like 'em young.”
Clif looked between Jensen and Jared, considering his order, “A working room or a personal room, ma'am?”
“Would I let anyone work in their condition, Clif?” She shook her head slowly, “Can't get the staff these days,” she muttered. “China, if you ever want a job on my security, you know you're welcome here.”
Someone came to see Jared. He was tall, black and rugged. He said he was a doctor but he didn't wear a white coat.
Jared discovered he was naked under the sheets of a modest bed, when the man pulled back the soft cotton to probe at his wounds. He struggled to get away from his touch but found himself held firm in a strange woman's grip. He blushed and struggled harder, and the doctor laughed, deep and booming, “You'd think you had something to hide, boy. Settle down. I need to see what damage has been done.”
“It's been traumatic. He's bound to be sensitive,” the woman explained.
Jared tried to put the pieces of his memory together. He didn't know where he was or who these people were, but the bed was comfortable, and he wasn't in a cell. The room had pink daisy wall-paper, and the door had an interior bolt, rather than a lock. His lips were swollen and dried blood caked the splits together. He attempted to flex his mouth to talk, but it hurt too much.
The doctor talked over Jared, to the woman who held him. “There is probably some concussion, he certainly seems confused. If it continues, you should call me. His ribs are badly bruised, there could be a hairline crack but it should heal without help. The stab wound is shallow. He's lucky, there's no sign of internal bleeding. His nose is broken. I will tape it in place so it sets straight. I'll stitch the cut on his cheek, and the splits by his lip but the cheek will certainly scar, which is a pity in his profession. I'll make it as neat as possible and give you ointment to lessen the mark. Usually, I would recommend a hospital visit, but in the current chaos there have been bombings and flash mobs. It would be better to stay away. I'll give you some painkillers, morphine is a little extreme. Where did you get that anyway?”
The woman shrugged, “A friend of his gave it to him.” She let go of Jared's wrists and pulled the covers over him, tucking him in like a child.
“He's shocked and lost a lot of blood, so keep him warm and quiet. Build him up slowly, with good food and gentle exercise. He can return to light work when the bruising around his eyes starts to fade, but you'll need to keep the enthusiastic customers away from him for at least three weeks.” He wrote a script and gave it to the woman. “I haven't noticed him before. Under those bruises he's lovely, very foxy. I can't see the scar keeping customers away.” He stroked Jared's arm in a comforting gesture.
Jared wondered if he was dreaming, or maybe he had amnesia. The last thing he remembered was Jensen knocking on a door in a run-down alley, and now he had a job?
He was lucid enough not to protest when the stitches went in. The strange woman held his hand with a gentle squeeze, like his mother would have done, which seemed weird, but nice, and there was some sort of gel that numbed his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited until it was over.
The woman saw the doctor out and returned to sit beside Jared. “Don't think too hard, we haven't met. The pretense was necessary. My name is Madame Ferris, and that is how you will address me. Here, it doesn't matter who you were, or what you've done. If you work hard and follow my rules, I will keep you safe. China will explain.
“Rules?” Jared whispered through barely-open lips.
“Mm-Hm, Baby Blue. They keep our world safe.”
Who, or what, was China? Jared didn't know what to think, so he stopped trying. His bed was cozy. He went back to sleep.
Part twelve