TL&ToaDID - DAY THREE; pt. 2
It takes them forty-five minutes to wrestle their way through the crowd of reporters and cameramen-Chad drops two of his muffins, and therefore proceeds to sulk all the way back to the Daily Globe-but, when they finally get there, Jensen’s left in peace for a while. He takes another look at that blurred photo of the flying man, and then decides to use another take; when the phrase ‘UFO in New York’ offers him a bunch of ridiculous photoshopped images, he decides instead to look up ‘government builds flying men’, in the hope that some conspiracy nut will have found something.
There’s a hit.
Another person has posted a copy of his photo onto a forum-there are at least thirteen comments below it, all stating that the government is building a superhero to match Winchester. A comment near the bottom states differently; it’s zoomed into the painting, showing a blurred blue logo; beneath, it says:
It’s not the government we should be looking out for. It’s Collins Industries.
The logo is of a large C, bold and in blue, surrounded by a circle.
Or, at least, that’s what it’s supposed to be.
Jensen squints.
“It just looks like a load of blue dots to me,” he murmurs to himself, tilting his head. “I mean, I guess if you really squint, that could look a little like a C-but, then again, it really doesn’t, so, I don’t know, is this a lead I should be following? Or-”
He doesn’t get time to think of an ‘or’-actually, he doesn’t even get time to really think about anything. Just as he’s about to speak, the entire building seems to jump; there’s this weird sort of shudder, and everyone feels it. He glances up, and his eyes lock with Chad’s; and there’s the same confusion in those eyes, because what the hell was that? The building shakes again, and this time it’s a violent shake-papers and books clatter off desks, a plant topples over, and Jim’s door bangs open; Jensen begins to stand up-almost everyone in the room is getting to their feet, ready to run-
And then the wall blows up.
Brick and rubble flies into the room-glass shatters, and Jensen throws his hands up over his head.
Somewhere to his left, Sandy screams.
Chad swears.
He’s dropped to his knees as well, and he’s got Danneel pressed against his side, sheltering her from the glass and brick.
Someone shouts.
“Jesus Christ!”
“Not quite,” a voice replies, dark and smooth all at once. Jensen freezes where he is, crouched behind his desk, hands still held up over his head-then, slowly, he lowers his arms and squints through the brick dust, waiting for it to clear. His eyes widen as a woman he vaguely recognises steps forward, out of the cloud of dust. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, jet-black, and she’s wearing harsh red lipstick; there’s these big black sunglasses covering her eyes, but her smirk is obvious in her stance as well as her expression. Her hands are hooked into the loops on her jeans, and she takes a long, steady glance around the room.
Beside her, a second woman steps forwards, moving out of her crouch; her eyes are black as night, and they glitter, lifeless and soulless, dead as a shark. Her breath comes in short, sharp bursts; she’s panting heavily, her fists clenched, blonde hair sticking to a forehead damp with sweat.
She blows some brick-dust off her knuckles.
Jensen doesn’t recognise her.
He does, however, recognise the first woman-it’s taking a while, but a name is beginning to come to that face; and when the name finally does come, he goes pale and his heart seems to catch in his chest. He recognises that smirk-the way it unfurls into a sharp, wicked grin-because, a few months ago, that face was on every screen, after she butchered a family of five with a kitchen knife; and then she did it again, and again, and again, and the police were never able to catch her. Her name is Meg, and she is completely insane-and they’re all in a hell of a lot of danger.
He has a sinking suspicion he knows why they’re here.
Blondie-Jensen doesn’t recognise her, but her eyes are terrifying; black and deep and dark-speaks first.
“We’re looking for Mister Ackles,” she says, and it’s like the entire room holds their breath-Jensen included. He’s not sure whether or not to step forwards and do that thing the heroes do in all the movies, where they sacrifice themselves for their friends; but, in reality, Jensen’s too scared. Blondie must sense that, because she holds her hands up, revealing her palms, as if to say she’s defenceless. “We’re not going to hurt him. We just want to have a chat with him.”
“Until Winchester joins the party,” Meg adds, and her tongue sweeps out across her lower lip once, quick and fast.
“That goes without saying.”
“God, he’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”
“Which one?”
“Winchester-although, of course, Mister Ackles; you’re not so bad yourself, honey,” Meg’s crooning now, walking away from the dust-she sweeps her hands across surfaces and desks as she walks, practically beaming with joy as people cringe away from her. She reaches Chad, then, and he’s still got Danneel pinned to his side, but when she stops in front of him, he glowers at her nonetheless.
She practically cackles at that.
“Oh, sweetheart-keep looking at me like that, and you’ll make me blush.”
Blondie rolls her eyes.
“Jesus, Meg.”
“Live a little, Ruby,” Meg grins, spreading her arms wide and gesturing around her. “They’re not going anywhere-and neither is little Jensen, wherever he’s hiding-so why don’t you have some fun? I’ll start,” she says, and then her hand shoots out, grips Chad’s neck, and all of a sudden she’s squeezing-and all Jensen can think of is the long-suffering sigh Ruby gives, before she moves forwards too, gripping Alona by the hair. Meg looks at Chad, and says, “And we’re going to keep on having fun, honey, until Ackles steps forwards.”
“Be a hero,” Ruby says.
So Jensen does.
He stands up.
It’s a little more terrifying than just that, actually-he stands up, but he can feel himself shaking, and it’s like his bones are fucking rattling, and he swears they can hear him. Meg’s gaze snaps to his; she tilts her head, staring at him as if he’s the most fascinating thing in the world, and it’s scary, sure, but at least her grip loosens on Chad. He hears his friend suck in breath after breath, breathing deeply. This is usually the part where the hero would say something witty and awesome, but when Jensen goes to speak, his mouth is too dry-instead, he just mirrors Ruby’s movements from earlier, holding his hands up in surrender.
This is fucking terrifying.
Meg tosses Chad aside and begins to walk over to him, lips twisting into another wicked grin. “Well, well-you’re even prettier in person, Jensen.”
“Yeah, well, can’t say the same about you,” he snaps.
Well, at least he can speak again.
Meg looks momentarily surprised, eyebrows rising-and then she outright laughs, stepping into his space; they’re barely a distance away, and it’s all Jensen can do to hold his ground. She tilts her head, grin widening, and then, all of a sudden, she’s gripping his face, nails digging crescents into his cheeks. She jerks him forwards, and he’s captured by her stare, unable to look away; that’s why he doesn’t spot her other hand, which slips inside her jacket.
It’s only when she traces the edge of a blade along his jaw that he notices.
“You’d look prettier in red.”
He freezes.
It almost feels like time slows down.
That knife traces a path down his neck and across a collarbone.
Then, just as quickly, Meg barks a laugh and jerks her hand away, and Jensen lets himself breathe again. Over in the corner, Ruby releases Alona, rolling her eyes at Meg as she makes her way over-she isn’t as terrifying as Meg, nowhere near so, but she grips Jensen’s wrist with a surprising force and tugs him along as if he doesn’t weigh anything. It’s not as though he’s trying desperately to get away, because the two of them are obviously insane and who knows what they’d do, but he’s a six foot and a bit, and, really, she should be finding it at least slightly difficult to drag him along.
She did punch through a wall, though.
He supposes he shouldn’t really be surprised.
Actually, he’s a little more surprised when she bunches the front of his shirt up in her hands, holding him tightly, and then almost shoves him out of the entrance they created. He was expecting a bit of a hostage situation, really-instead, he’s dangling out of a ruined, broken window, feet scraping desperately at the bit of brick beneath them. He can hear people screaming inside-he can hear Chad’s voice pretty well, as he shouts above the others-but Meg says something, and then there’s the crack of a gunshot; they all fall silent. All that Jensen can hear then is the traffic below and the sound of New York City blissfully unaware of what’s happening above them-his hands clamp automatically over Ruby’s, and he tries to straighten himself, swearing beneath his breath.
Ruby shrugs a shoulder-he can feel the movement through her arms, down her hands, against his chest, where they join-and says, “It’s nothing personal, Ackles. And hey, look on the bright side-if your boyfriend is fast enough, you won’t even die.”
And then she lets go.
Falling to your death really sucks.
It feels as though time suddenly decides to slow down for a moment-it’s as if he’s dropping in slow motion, but his surroundings are still a blur. The Daily Globe rushes past, a blur of brick and stone, and he can hear his blood pounding in his ears, but Jensen feels oddly detached. It’s as if he’s not moving at all-he feels as though he could step out of his body and watch the whole thing as a spectator, fascinated, and that’s not the nicest of feelings. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling oddly blank about the entire situation-it’s as if the panic has been punched out of him. It feels a lot like he’s just waiting, now.
He’s waiting for the inevitable.
And he really doesn’t want to die.
An arm curls around his waist.
He opens his eyes.
Time speeds up.
“Hi,” Jared grins. “You don’t mind if I drop by, do you?”
The laugh that erupts from Jensen is choked and shaky and scared, but oh so relieved. For a few seconds, he just clings to Jared, burying his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in and out-he’s trembling, he knows that, but he has just been flung off a building. He looks up, and thinks that he’s fallen at least twenty floors-and when he looks down, the ground is ridiculously close. He can see people peering up and pointing; they’re small, sure, but they can see him and he can see them-they’re not just blurred dots. He thinks he can see a camera crew. Jared rubs soothing circles across the small of Jensen’s back, murmuring nonsense against his ear, and he begins to move downwards, not too quickly.
Eventually, Jensen’s feet touch the floor again.
The moment they do, he buckles, knees going weak beneath him; it’s hardly dignified, sure, but Jared’s got an arm slung around his waist-and almost as soon as he touches down, he’s being supported on the other side, too, by Misha. Jensen can’t actually remember him being there, but he thinks he might be in shock.
That would probably explain a lot.
“We should get you back,” Misha says, and his voice is very soft and very gentle, like he’s talking to a wounded animal.
Jensen makes the mistake of looking up.
For a dizzying moment, he sees where he fell.
Then he blanches, bends over and says, “I think I’m going to puke.”
In the end, he doesn’t.
It’s a little more humiliating than that.
One moment, he’s listening to Misha’s voice-it’s soft and soothing and lulling-and the next, that voice is fading to black and he’s falling again; it doesn’t matter that there’s someone there to catch him this time, that Misha’s hands wrap around his waist fully and take his weight. He still faints.
“I like to think you swooned,” Misha says conversationally, when Jensen’s been awake for long enough-he’s sat in front of the sofa, and Jensen’s lying on it, with a blanket strewn over his waist; he’s flicking through channel after channel, before he finally settles on some Cartoon Network cartoon, with bright colours and silly shenanigans. “It was all very romantic. I think the press managed to snap at least seventeen photos of it-you’ve already been all over the news already.”
“Chad is never going to let me live this down.”
“You were just thrown out of a building. I’m sure he won’t tease you too badly.”
“You don’t know Chad.”
“Fair enough.”
“Speaking of,” Jensen yawns, then, patting his pockets down. “I’d better call him. Do you, uh-d’you have a phone I can borrow? I think mine fell out of my pocket, actually.”
“Jen, I am a billionaire. Of course I have a phone you can borrow. I probably have five,” Misha says, and then tosses his phone over his shoulder-Jensen fumbles a little bit when he tries to catch it, but then he murmurs his thanks, swings his legs up over the couch, and dials Chad’s number. As he does, he begins to pace-it’s something he pretty much always does when he’s on the phone, unless he’s at work, but it’s also because he quite likes the feel of his feet beneath him at the moment. He strides backwards and forwards, waiting for Chad to pick up.
Then-
“Uh, hello?”
“Chad,” Jensen says.
And, like that, he ends up being bombarded with a flurry of statements:
“Jesus, Jensen, are you alright? We thought-no, I mean, we saw Winchester, but oh my God, you’re not hurt, are you? Jesus Christ, those fucking bitches! You should have heard them afterwards, it was insane-and I mean, that whole experience was pretty insane, but I did get to cop a feel of Danni’s tits, you should have seen how close she pressed herself against me, man, I swear she wants me. And-oh, right, I’m probably being insensitive; and anyway, Danni’s glaring at me again, now, so if I want to get laid, I’m just going to shut up for a second. Where are you, anyway? With Collins? Or Winchester? What happened?”
“Are you done?”
“I think so. Actually, wait-they were so soft-”
“I don’t want to hear about Danni’s boobs, man,” Jensen blanches, rolling his eyes. “She’s like a little sister; it feels wrong.”
“It didn’t feel wrong when she pressed them against me.”
“Quit making me feel dirty!”
“That’s what she said.”
“Oh, you’re on a roll today, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, man,” Chad says, and then gets a little quieter. “Seriously, though; are you okay?”
Jensen thinks for a moment.
His hands are trembling-they’re constantly shaking, and he doesn’t quite know how to stop it. His legs feel like jelly, but if he doesn’t walk, he feels like he’s falling again; and he can’t stop thinking about those black eyes, or the knife against his jaw, or Jared’s arm around his waist, or the way Misha caught him. It’s all caught up in his head, trapped, buzzing like a bee in a jar, and he doesn’t exactly know how to let it all out. He’s not sure what’ll happen if he does-and if it’s tears, then he doesn’t exactly want to be crying on the phone to Chad.
He lets out a deep, shaky breath.
“Yeah-yeah, I think so.”
“You’re a moron, though, I hope you know that.”
“I’m a little bit aware now, I think.”
“Idiot.”
“Oh, bite me,” Jensen frowns. “I saved your life.”
“I was going to bust a move and get out of there.”
“Sure.”
“I know karate.”
“You learnt it in fifth grade-and you only stayed for three lessons.”
“I’m still a ninja, Jen.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks, though-y’know, for saving my life and stuff.”
“Remind me never to do it again.”
“Oh, you don’t mean that,” Chad grins.
“I do-I really, really do,” Jensen says, but he’s smiling a little too at that. He pauses, then, recalling something Chad said earlier. “Hey, you mentioned them afterwards-you said they were talking about something.”
“Right, right,” Chad agrees, and Jensen can practically hear him nodding. “Yeah, that’s right-the fit blonde one looked down after you, and said she gave it less than twenty seconds before he noticed, whoever he was-and then Winchester sort of swooped in, and that psycho bitch was like, ‘that was quick’. It was sort of like they were testing Winchester’s reaction time, y’know? Then the fit one said they could use that, and that Crowley would be pleased, and that they could kill two birds with one stone with this-and then she put her arm around the other one and launched herself out the window. Like, she jumped-but really far. I think they landed on the building opposite, and then she just kept jumping like that, until we couldn’t see her anymore.”
“Wait-she said they could ‘kill two birds with one stone’?”
“Yup.”
“What-”
“Actually, Danneel was talking about this,” Chad says, “But I think it’s obvious who the two birds are. I mean, you’re the stone, after all.”
Jensen tells Misha everything Chad said.
He sits there throughout it all, looking steadily more and more troubled; and when Jensen mentions the name Crowley, he looks like he jumps out of his skin. He gets paler and paler, until eventually he’s running his hand across his forehead, staring at Jensen like he’s very, very sorry-and then he smacks the palm of his hand against his forehead, and says something about how he should have known, and Jensen just feels more and more confused, until he can’t help it any longer. He raises an eyebrow at Misha, and asks, “What the hell is wrong?”
“You’re wrong.”
“What?”
“They weren’t testing Jared’s reaction time,” Misha says, and for once he looks deadly serious-his gaze is unwavering, brow tugged downwards in a troubled frown. “They were testing mine.”
For a moment, Jensen doesn’t understand. It’s a bizarre concept; after what Chad said, he doesn’t understand how Misha can fit in with the entire situation at all-he was just there, in the end, to help Jensen back to his feet, and that’s all he had to do with it. He doesn’t understand how he can be wrapped up in all of this-and, for a second, he thinks of the blurred C on the side of the flying man, but shakes his head.
It’s insane.
It doesn’t make sense.
“Explain.”
“It can wait, Jen-you ought to sleep.”
“No,” Jensen shakes his head again, narrowing his eyes. “No, you’re going to explain quickly, and you’re going to explain now.”
Misha opens his mouth to argue, but thinks better of it-instead, he nods his head jerkily, before closing his eyes for a moment. He stands like that for a second, a finger brushing across his lower lip as he thinks-and it’s weird, really, how Jensen can’t help but think there’s something beautiful about him like that. He’s all angles-points and peaks-but when he’s stood like that, his features are smooth and gentle, and he does look incredibly beautiful. And he can also stand uncannily still. He’s almost like a statue.
And then his eyes open, and he begins speaking.
“Jared and I met way back-at least six or seven years ago now-when he pulled me out of a train wreck; I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but it was pretty big at the time. One of the trains had been derailed, designed to smash into a second train through the subway, and I was on the second train. I think he was sat behind me, but I don’t know, it’s a little blurred-really, when the train smashed into us, there was nothing but chaos. It ran into the carriage in front of mine, and tore it clean away, and then-then there was just this gaping hole, and people were just falling and hitting the tracks and dying; and I sort of stood up, and then the first train hit us again, and I fell. I was sure I was going to hit the ground, but then this guy just grabs me and pulls me back in; and he’s grinning, with all these dimples and floppy hair, and he says, ‘Hold onto something’. And then he gets out and just stops the train.
It was incredible.
And, luckily, I was one of the only people to see it; and afterwards, he just climbed back into the train, and asks me to punch him, so that he ends up with a bruise on his cheek-so that it looks like he was injured-and I almost break my fist trying to do it.
After that, I guess we just sort of-stayed, really. I mean, I found him fascinating, and to begin with, it was purely so that I could ask him questions; and then, I don’t know, I just sort of started to like him. He kept talking about wanting to do something good, to help people, but he didn’t have the money or the resources to do it; he couldn’t be everywhere all at once, and so I asked him what if he could be everywhere at once? Would he still want to do it?
And the asshole just smiled.
So then, after that, we created Winchester. It was a bit wobbly at first-Jared actually couldn’t throw a punch to save his life, and it was difficult trying to teach him, trying to test him, if you couldn’t actually hit him and hurt him. We found out that pretty much nothing could hurt him; not bullets or knives or-or anything, really. It took the sharpest of needles and knives to pierce his skin, and you’d have to really punch to bruise him. He made his first costume-it was an awful thing, but he insisted-and then I built a machine to make a better costume, and he wore that one. And then I hacked into the USAs satellites, and created a machine which could act as Winchester’s eyes and ears; it downloads to my phone, actually, it’s pretty nifty. After that, he just-well, he just did his thing.
That’s why they were after me.
I’m his eyes and ears-I’m the brain behind Winchester-and, contrary to popular belief, Jared can’t be everywhere at once. He can’t save everyone, and so it’s up to me to make the difficult decisions-but earlier, with you, I didn’t even have to make the decision. I just knew. And I’m so sorry, Jensen, but now-now Crowley knows that I like you, and so now Crowley knows how to hurt us.”
PREVIOUS | NEXT