HOUSE OF BROKEN SOULS Part 20

Apr 26, 2011 16:18


Warnings: This Chapter: None. Overall: Slash, sexually explicit content, graphic violence
The fiction includes a mental illness storyline. I am not qualified in mental health, everything I know about it is googled. It's fantasy folks, please don't shoot me though helpful criticism is always welcomed.
*Not real. The folks aren't mine. No damage intended. I have played with ages of the Padalecki and Ackles family and messed with names. You can find the definitiion of fiction in the dictionary...
A big thankyou to Lia (Cheebles) for all her help ((hugs))
***

Secrets
The problem with secrets is that they tend not to stay that way. Chance, curiosity and nature conspire to unravel hidden truths and awkward lies. Revelations are like daylight on ancient artifacts. Some things will gleam and reveal their worth, while others crumble to dust in an unfamiliar atmosphere.

Several blocks away from Madison House Mansions, the elements threw their worst at an abandoned warehouse and authorities reluctantly declared it unsafe. Contractors explored the disused depths of the storage areas, destroying locks and battering doors. They scratched their heads and wondered why the ‘Painter Mobile Snacks’ Baltimore-registered minivan, nestled under tarpaulin, all out of fuel, but in perfect working order. Time is money, it was towed, stored and a cursory note forwarded to the local PD. It hadn’t been reported stolen and nobody was answering the contact numbers. Details were filed and forgotten.

Nature threw three days of storms at the Baltimore suburbs and on the third day a secluded house creaked its disapproval and tiles dislodged from the roof. Rain water began its insidious spread through the structure, creeping ever closer to the main electrical circuits. Some drops collected in the dusty, half-filled suitcases that rested on the bedroom floor but there was nobody to place other receptacles to slow the damp assault that gradually reached the live electrics. Eventually, small flames bloomed and licked at the breaker box then spread and crackled, eating eagerly at finishings and furnishings. Acrid smoke curled lazily upward and hung in the air, alerting neighbors to call the fire department. Eventually, when only smoldering black wreckage remained, Baltimore PD was asked to identify and locate the owner, and it wasn’t proving an easy task.

Karl Laing took another puff of his cigarette and then stubbed it out on the sidewalk beside Glenview Psychiatric Hospital. He adjusted his binoculars and focused as best he could, on the conservatory, where the tree of a man with floppy brown hair, gently guided Emma. Yes, he was sure now that it was Emma, to sit. He watched as the huge caring man talked at the woman, all small smiles and careful movements. He was perfect. He was sure Emma would agree.

***

Of course there is another problem with secrets and the nature of their discovery. It is that a secret once seen, cannot be unseen.

Detective Jensen Ackles could pinpoint with clarity the exact moment he opened Pandora’s Box. He remembered the sickening sensation of free-falling into an abyss made of his own stupidity. Staring at the information, on the screen of his computer, in the downtown police station, Jensen knew he had compromised the fragile friendship he had come to care most about.

The FBI installed all the latest databases and nationwide search facilities. It excited his inner-geek and he set about exploring the limits of the data he could extract. He idly entered his mother’s address and checked the completeness of the information, then tried Chad. He wracked his brain to think of someone else to test the system, someone he knew less about, but who would, for all intents and purposes be a ‘blank slate’ to the criminal justice files. It seemed an inspired moment when he hit upon Jared for the task. It was absolutely off limits to use the system for anyone other than legitimate suspects, but Jared was an upstanding citizen. He never refused to help his local PD. Jensen didn’t ask Jared for permission, he was sure to be fine with it.

It took seconds to ask for the information that Jensen would forever regret viewing.

His mouth sagged and his eyes widened as he scrolled through the data. That Jared collected parking tickets like kids collected trading cards would be amusing if it weren’t for the rest of the text.

Jared Tristan Padalecki had a sealed Juvenile file. He spent 6 months in Juvie Hall between the ages of 15 and 16. His mother was deceased. His father was in prison, with a list of drunken convictions that started the year his wife died and culminated in a life sentence for a murder committed in a drunken frenzy. Jared had a younger sister and an older brother, Jeff who was deceased.

At 17 yrs old Jared was twice arrested and charged with shoplifting. Later that year he had been given a formal warning for the crime of prostitution.

At the age of 19 he had been arrested, charged and fined for prostitution. His sister had been forcibly removed from him and taken into care.

There was no data after 2001. What Jensen had already seen would prove to be enough and too much.
Continued in part 21 here: anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/6791.html

au, jensen/omc, slash, architect!jared, jared/omc (lots), jdmorgan/ofc, house of broken souls, detective!jensen, jensen/jared, fanfic

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