In Distortion Lies Beauty Part Two

[captcrashfic]

Part 1 * Part 2 * Part 3



It's a rainy day when Jared is released from the hospital and transferred to Green Haven for the next phase of his recovery. Not wanting to ride over to his new home away from home in an ambulance that can be used for patients who actually may need its services, Jared asked if Jensen might be able to arrange transport for him. As much as his parents mean well, neither has a vehicle big enough to fit both Jared and his wheelchair. Even on a good day, someone Jared's size wasn't meant to be folded into a tiny hybrid vehicle.

He assumed that a nurse was going to come get him to let him know that a van was waiting. He definitely isn't expecting Jensen himself to walk through the door and ask him if he's ready to get the hell out of Dodge before Nurse Betty comes back.

“You really didn't have to come over here yourself, you know.” Jared says, wheeling away from the window.

“I know. But I figured you'd appreciate seeing a familiar face. I'm all about helping you out, ya know. That's why they pay me the big bucks.”

“All about helping me out, huh? In that case, I expect turn down service and pillow fluffing every day I'm at your fine establishment.” Jared replies. Jensen laughs and grabs Jared's black duffel off the bed.

“I tell you one thing. You're going to fit right in with Deacon. Is this all you're bringing with you?” Jensen asks, holding the duffel out to the side. It takes Jared a few seconds to realize that Jensen's speaking to him - too caught up in the way Jensen's shirt pulls across the muscles in his chest and arms.

“Were you really expecting something more? It's not like I've been vacationing here. I'm pretty sure the clothes I came in with were a lost cause.”

“You're probably correct. Alright, let's get this show on the road. Think you're capable of wheeling your gigantic self to the elevator?” Jensen asks, slinging the duffel over his shoulder with a laugh.

“Ten bucks says I beat your scrawny ass to the lobby, Ackles.”

Jared wins, but only because one of the candy stripers working on the floor bumps into Jensen, effectively keeping him from catching the same elevator as Jared.



So far, Jared's had an incredibly easy first day at Green Haven. He's not sure if it's Jensen's doing, but he's been placed in a room by himself - one with a small balcony that looks out over the gardens instead of the parking lot. It's made unpacking his bag a simple, if somewhat lonely, task. He kinda wishes, at this point, that he had asked his parents to be here for at least part of his move, but they won't be coming until Monday, when he's got his first real therapy session with Jensen.

Jared grabs his shaving kit off the bed, wheeling himself towards his bathroom to finish putting things away. Funny how it hasn't happened before now, but that's when the reality of the situation hits him. Who knew that tucking away a couple razors, shaving cream, and some aftershave, would be enough to make him realize this is his life now. Almost everything in his room is set at half the normal level just so he can reach it without trying to stand on legs that refuse to support his weight. They've even given him one of those grasping tools he'd only previously seen little old ladies at the grocery store using to get something off a tall shelf. At the time, he'd laugh to himself and offer to help, but now he's going to be one of those people.

His hands are shaking and he's starting to breathe in the same shallow way he did in the hospital, when he first realized he couldn't feel his mother's hand on his knee. Honestly, he wasn't expecting something so simple as unpacking to send him off the deep end, but here he is. Jared tries to turn around too quickly in his haste to get out of the, now-cramped bathroom, closing in on him, when his elbow catches the aide's call button. He doesn't even realize that his mind has substituted crumbling concrete and twisted steel for the cheerful yellow walls of his room.



Jensen thought something like this might happen when he brought Jared over from the hospital this morning; he just didn't think it would happen in such a spectacular fashion. It's part of the reason why he's been hovering outside Jared's room on his day off, when he could be home, lounging on his couch, watching baseball.

“Deacon, I might need your help to calm him down.” Jensen says with a sigh.

“You think I didn't figure that out for myself already? This ain't my first rodeo, kid. You seem to forget that I've been doing this longer than you.” Deacon smiles, letting Jensen know that the joking is all in fun.

“Keep talking like that, and I'm going to think you're the one supposedly sleeping with Shepard.” Jensen says. Deacon punches him in the arm and nods his head towards Jared's room.

“You ready for this?”

“Ready as I'm ever going to be.” Jensen takes a deep breath and pushes through the door. He can hear Jared mumbling, in between panicked breaths. It's a mantra of 'This can't be happening' and 'I just need to get out.'

“Jared?” Jensen knows that he needs to be cautious. The last thing he wants is to set Jared off when he's already primed to react like a frightened animal. He may not be able to use his legs to run away, but he's still a big guy and has enough upper body strength to do some serious damage.

“Jared, it's Jensen. You remember who I am?” Jensen inches around in front of Jared's chair, extremely careful not to touch. He takes in the glassy unfocused eyes, staring up at his, and looks to Deacon, shaking his head.

“Jared, I need you to calm down, okay? I don't want you to hurt yourself. I'm going to reach down with my right hand and lock the wheel on your chair, okay? I promise, I'm not going to touch you. Just the chair, alright?” Jensen doesn't get an affirmative response out of Jared, but then again, he doesn't get a negative one, either. Wheel lock firmly in place, Jensen motions Deacon to stand behind Jared, ready to catch him if he tries to make a leap forward or falls back.

“Jared, I need you to focus on my voice, okay man? I want to help you, but I need you to trust me. Do you think you can try taking deeper breaths? I don't want you passing out on me, man.”

“Jensen, I don't think the nice guy approach is going to work in this instance. You might want to pull out the drill instructor before shock sets in.” Deacon's right. Jared isn't responding at all to the soothing voice routine.

“Jared! You listening in there, Padalecki?” Jared startles in his chair and Deacon makes a grab for his biceps at the same time Jensen rests a hand on either side of Jared's face.

“Can you hear me, Jared? I need you to calm the fuck down and breathe. You pass out on my watch, and I'm gonna be pissed, got it?” His eyes focus on Jensen's face.

“That's right. You keep your eyes on me and do what I tell you. Take a breath in and hold it, you got that?” He waits a few seconds, mentally crossing his fingers that this is going to work, sending up a brief prayer of thanks when Jared actually does as he's told.

“Alright, now breathe out, slowly. That's it. Nice and slow, just like this. Now do it again with me. In, and back out. Nice easy rhythm, okay?” It feels like hours have passed by the time Jensen gets Jared breathing normally again, when it's only been about five minutes. He's gotten through to Jared on a base level and stemmed off the panic attack. Now he just needs to get Jared out of his own mind.

“Jared, we're going to let go, alright? Keep breathing nice and slow just like I told you, okay?” Still no response to his questions, but at least Jared doesn't try to take a swing when Jensen and Deacon back away from him. Jensen sighs and runs a hand over the back of his neck, trying to rub out the kinks.

“Deacon, you want to get the psychiatrist on call today? I'm kinda concerned that he's still stuck in his own hell. This isn't just one of those, 'Oh My God, life's so unfair, I'm stuck like this forever' freak out moments.”

“Sure. You feel like you're going to be okay in here by yourself? I can always go get Mark to help you.” Deacon offers, backing slowly towards door.

“I should be fine. Just don't make any loud noises or sudden moves, and we should be okay 'til the shrink gets here.”

“Alright, I'll go get Gracie. The two of you just hang tight for a few minutes.” Jensen nods, settling himself down carefully into the chair across from Jared. He really does hate waiting, but there's nothing more he can do at this point.



The sun is just starting to set when Jared wakes up. His head feels fuzzy, his mouth is full of cotton and there's a nasty taste in the back of his throat, like he spent a whole night drinking Granddaddy's shine.

“Here, this should help get rid of the taste.” Jared turns his head and notices Jensen sprawled out in the chair next to his bed, hand holding a bottle of water out for him. Jared takes it, downing the contents in one long pull.

“Thanks.” Jared says, stretching his arms out to his side, muscles and fingers flexing. “What time is it? I don't remember it being this dark when I got here.”

“It's about quarter after eight on Friday evening.” Jensen replies. Jared watches as Jensen stretches, legs pushing out in front of his body and arms going up over his head. His shirt rides up in front and Jared gets a glimpse tanned skin, belly button and a trail of red blond hair before Jensen brings his arms back down to his sides. Jared shakes his head, filing that image away while at the same time trying to figure out why there seems to have been such a huge gap in his day.

“Shouldn't you be home then? Why are you still here?”

“What do you remember from the afternoon, Jared?”

“I remember filling out the last of the paperwork here. Joking with Amy that I'm not a fan of Brussels sprouts and please make sure they know that in the kitchen when they fill out my menu. After that it's all a bit hazy.”

“You had a panic attack. I had a feeling it might happen since the psychiatrist at the hospital told me that you hadn't gone to any counseling appointments yet. Our on call doctor gave you an anti-anxiety/ sedative cocktail to calm you down and let you sleep off the after effects.”

“Panic attack? I've never had a panic attack before. Pretty sure I don't have any phobias or anything.”

“Jared, you mentioned someone named Cooper. After Deacon and I were able to get your breathing back to normal, you kept telling Cooper that you were sorry.” Jared closes his eyes and turns his face away from Jensen.

“You don't have to tell me about it, Jared. I just want you to know that it happened and that you may want to speak to one of our counselors or psychiatrists on staff about your accident. Your mind seems to be trying to deal with it subconsciously since you don't seem to want to let it deal with things consciously.” Jared is not ready to deal with this right now...especially not in front of Jensen. If he's truthful, he doesn't want to have to deal with what happened during the accident ever, but that's probably not going to be an option for him.

“I'll see you Monday morning for your first session. Think about what I said and get some rest this weekend, okay?” Jensen stands up, squeezing Jared's shoulder lightly before walking around the foot of Jared's bed.

“Yeah, sure. Goodnight, Jensen.” He'd much rather be left alone to wallow in his maudlin thoughts.



Jared sleeps restlessly for most of the night after Jensen leaves. Disjointed images of the roadside bombing that ended his military career mix with his more recent memories of the building collapse, and he wakes up shaking more than once. Much as he doesn't want to, Jared reaches out, grabbing the little orange bottle on his nightstand, and shakes out the two pills left for him by the psychiatrist.

He doesn't want to take them. Hates that there is even a need for them in the first place. Jared also knows he won't get anything resembling a good night's sleep if he doesn't take this dose. He pops them in his mouth and chases them down with a swig of lukewarm water from the cup left sitting next to the pill bottle. The bitter taste they leave in his mouth is more appealing than the slide show happening in his mind each time he closes his eyes.



When Jensen makes it back home, he's too wired to even think about sleeping. Watching Jared's breakdown brought feelings to the surface that Jensen thought were long buried, and he doesn't have the energy to suppress them. He clearly remembers the anger he felt upon waking up, face down in a hospital bed, for the first time after the bombing. It started as anger at himself for letting Fitz get so close to danger, but that quickly morphed into anger at his situation in general. Jensen's regional director made a personal visit to the hospital, informing him that due to the extent of his injuries, Jensen no longer qualified for active duty status.

Jensen's meltdown upon hearing the news was only slightly less spectacular than Jared's, thanks to the morphine pumping through his system. Still, he managed to vehemently curse out the director, and pull two IV lines from his good arm before his doctor arrived to administer a hefty dose of sedative. When Fitz arrived the next day to thank Jensen for saving his life at the cost of Jensen's own well-being, the anger had receded, and was replaced by the same listlessness that Jared wore like a cloak during his first visit to Green Haven.

Shaking his head, Jensen drops his keys on the small table and decides that a run on the treadmill is just what he needs to clear his mind. He tries not to be disappointed two hours later when thoughts of Jared still linger.



Jared wakes Monday morning feeling more rested than the previous night, but with a sense of dread about how his first real session with Jensen will go. Jared parents are supposed to arrive around ten o'clock, to give Jared enough time to wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast and meet with Jensen privately, before heading to the main therapy room together. Reaching his arms above his head, Jared grabs the metal bar and hoists himself up to a sitting position. He's just managed to slide himself of his bed and into his wheelchair when a dark haired man knocks on his door, pushing it slightly open.

“Jared?” the man asks, still not entering the room. Jared makes sure that he's suitably covered before answering.

“Yeah, that's me. Come on in.” Upon Jared's reply, the door slowly opens and a vaguely familiar guy walks into the room.

“Good morning, Jared. My name's Deacon Rios and I'll be helping Jensen from time to time with your therapy.” Deacon holds out his hand and Jared shakes it, recognition finally hitting him.

“You were here the other night with Jensen when I had my panic attack. I remember hearing your voice.”

“You would be correct. I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself before we got too far into things today. We didn't really meet under the best circumstances and I didn't want to trigger any bad memories for you, all things considered,” Deacon says, flashing a quick smile. Jared can't help but smile back at him as he notices that Deacon speaks with his hands and facial expressions as much as he does with his mouth. There's a lilting, musical quality to his voice that reminds Jared of growing up in Texas and it has a comforting effect.

“Thank you for that. I'd hate for my parents to see something like that when they're here. I don't want to worry then anymore, you know?” Jared asks, hand rubbing awkwardly over his sleep tussled hair.

“Not a problem, man. While I'm here, do you want or need any help getting showered and dressed for your sessions today?”

“Um, yeah, if you don't mind helping. I'm still a little unsteady when it comes to making the transition into the shower. Probably wouldn't be a good idea to fall and bust myself before I even start therapy,” Jared says, moving his chair toward his bathroom.

“I don't mind helping at all, Jared. That's what we're here for - to help you get back on an even keel.” Deacon helps Jared into the shower stall and lets Jared know that he's left fresh towels on the sink for him.

“If you need any helping getting out or getting dressed, just hit the call button and someone will be right in, okay?”

“I will. Thanks, Deacon.” Jared turns on the water, adjusting the temperature, and hears the click of Deacon closing the door behind himself. Jared's earlier sense of dread has eased, and he thinks he's finally in the right mindset to begin the healing process.



Jensen comes to find Jared around nine-thirty, that way that have some time to talk, and go over what goals Jared would like to set for his therapy.

“Okay, so before you even say it, I know that your ultimate goal is to regain full use of your legs, but I'd like for us to set a series of smaller benchmarks to hit along the way,” Jensen says, setting down a notebook labeled with Jared's name and patient number. “Dr. Adams and I would like to schedule you for another series of MRI films when we've hit the four week mark. If either you or I happen to notice a change in your physical condition before then, we can move up the timetable for that appointment.”

“So, benchmarks. Do they need to be super specific or are you just looking for something like, I want to be able to get into the shower by myself within two weeks,” Jared asks, wondering just what the protocol for this type of thing is.

“They don't even have to be that specific. That's a pretty good first benchmark to hit, though. We want to make sure you're capable of taking care of yourself once you leave the facility, be that still using your wheelchair, or walking under your own steam,” Jensen replies. Jared nods his head and by the time his parents arrive, Jensen's scrawled down twenty odd benchmarks.

“Okay, so are you ready to head out into the main therapy room and meet with your parents?” Jensen asks, standing up and fitting the notebook and Jared's chart under his arm. He opens the door and walks out, holding it for Jared.

“Let's get this show on the road,” Jared says, unlocking the brakes on his chair and wheeling himself out of the room and down the hallway.



Jared is completely exhausted by Monday evening. Jensen had showed both him and his parents around the facility, though Jared's pretty sure that the tour was more for his parents that his own benefit. He'd seen a good portion of Green Haven already, but Deacon explained the reasoning behind Jensen asking for family to be present as Jensen showed a piece of equipment to his mother.

“It started as something he did just with the younger patients. A lot of the time, young kids either get bored with their therapy or they get extremely frustrated. If you involve their family members, someone other than the therapist can be there to help the patient with the equipment and finding motivation to continue. I think in your case though, it was more the idea that your parents expressed an interest in bringing you back to San Antonio for the rest of your recovery. Dr. Adams felt that Green Haven and Jensen would be your best option. Think of it as a kind of job interview for Jensen.”

The only thing Jared found slightly unsettling about the days events was the way that the facility director, Nancy Shepard, followed them around like a shadow. The stern look on her face was completely out of place compared to the laid back picture Jensen was trying to project.

When Jared settles into bed that night, he's still trying to figure out why the head of Green Haven has taken such an interest in his recovery.



They settle into a routine fairly quickly.

Jared gets up every morning at seven o'clock. An aide comes in at seven-thirty to see if he needs any help getting dressed or cleaned up for the day. Breakfast is at eight in the main dining hall and he has his first session with Jensen at nine. In the beginning there was a lot of strength training to get his upper body used to doing more than it did in the past.

After strength training, he heads over to see Abby to work on his hand eye coordination as well as his wheelchair maneuvering skills. He jokes with her that it feels almost like being in drivers ed all over again, only this time, the instructor doesn't yell at him for leaning back on just two wheels. Lunch is any time between twelve-thirty and one-thirty. He's still trying to convince Amy that Brussels sprouts are the devil's food.

Once he's done with lunch, Jared get's some time to himself where he can work on his exercises in the gym or help out in the garden with some of the other patients. On nice days, he almost always chooses to spend time in the garden. He's not about to consider himself a green thumb, but the tomatoes that he helped plant are growing pretty nicely. If he's lucky, he won't be around to eat the tomatoes once they're ripe, but more likely than not, he'll still be a resident at Green Haven. Jensen tells him it all depends on how well the therapy goes and whether or not his doctors feel he's okay to live on his own without hurting his back again.

At two thirty, Jared makes his way to the pool area for his low stress exercises in the water. His favorite part of the day happens once he's out of the pool and has had a chance to shower off the chlorine smell. Post pool time, he gets a rub down/ therapeutic massage from Jensen. While he's sure there's some sort of benefit to be had by his body and spine, he's more excited by the fact that he gets to spend time with Jensen's hands on his skin. It may just be the only thing that keeps him sane on bad days. That little bit of human contact from someone he's come to trust, with his body's recovery, at least.

His doctors tell him that he should see improvement, if there's to be any improvement of his condition, within the first month or two spent in therapy. While that is the dream, and would be absolutely fantastic, Jared doesn't hold out much hope. Right now, Jared's just looking to learn all he can on the occupational therapy side of things.

Through it all, Jared notices that Director Shepard tends to be present during his sessions with Jensen, pen seeming to scratch angrily over the small notepad she keeps in her pocket. It's a bit disconcerting, but Jared doesn't think it's his place to tell her that she's making him uncomfortable. It is her facility after all.



“So,Jared, Deacon here tells me that you're trying to hide muscle tightness and soreness from me? Haven't I told you that I have eyes and ears all over this building?” Jensen asks, walking into the therapy room.

“To be fair, I told Deacon, just this morning, while you were in a meeting. So it's not like I've been keeping this from you for weeks. My lower back tightened up last night, a couple hours after my session in the pool. Deacon thinks maybe I didn't stretch enough after I was done.”

“Do you feel any pain running down either leg or is it still the same pins and needles feeling you've been having since you came here?” Jensen asks, turning to a new page in Jared's file and making a note.

“If I admit to having a pain in my ass, will you think I'm talking about you or an actual pain?” Jared replies , wearing his best shit-eating grin. Deacon snickers and Jensen can't manage to keep the smile off his face, either.

“If it's a legitimate pain in the ass, and not just you griping 'cause I'm making you work, then that's a good sign. It means that, while the nerves are still being compressed, it's not as bad as it was before. I think it may be a good idea to try you on the stretching rack with some stim pads.” Jensen tilts his head toward one of the therapy rooms and watches as Deacon wheels Jared inside.

"Seriously? You're going to stretch me out on “the rack?” I thought you were supposed to help me get better, not torture me for information. I don't even think Saddam was into this."

"You done bitching, now? 'Cause I've got other things I could be doing." Jensen says, slightly annoyed

"Yeah, yeah. Fucking slave driver." Jared moves closer to the exam table and grabs onto the bar, levering himself up onto the table as Deacon steadies his chair.

"Don't let him fool you, Jared. If he wasn't in here with you, he'd be alphabetizing the office supplies in his desk drawer." Deacon says, just loud enough that Jensen can hear him as well.

“You think you two could stop busting my balls long enough to get some warm towels and my equipment cart?” Deacon makes a dismissive motion with his hand as he leaves to grab Jensen's requested supplies, door clicking softly closed behind him.

“Okay, so this may be a little uncomfortable for you. I'm gonna need you to strip down to your boxers so I can put the stim pads on your lower back and down your thighs. If you'd rather have one of the female therapists take care of this part, just let me know. I'm well aware that most guys feel odd stripping down in front of a strange man.” Jared laughs softly and reaches down to pull the hem of his hoodie up over his head.

“Don't worry, I lost any modesty I might have had when I signed my life over to Uncle Sam. And if Basic hadn't taken care of it, living in that tent in Afghanistan with twenty other guys and no walls definitely did. Trust me, there's no hiding your business from anyone when you're packed together that tight.” Jared drops the sweatshirt onto the seat of his wheelchair, reaches for his undershirt, and Jensen has to turn away or risk losing it completely. He's not sure if he was too quick and that's what caught Jared's attention, or if he was too slow, and now, Jared knows he was trying not to stare.

“Dude, am I making you uncomfortable? They're just scars. Nothing really hurts anymore, well, other than the bruises I get using new equipment for the first time, that is.” Jared slides the track pants down his legs and Jensen's pretty sure the whole damn building can hear the tiny catch in his breathing.

“Think you can help get these off me the rest of the way? It's kinda awkward from this position.” All Jensen's brain hears is 'Get these off me,' and his libido instantly answers, 'Hell yeah,' as his hands grab for the suddenly offensive piece of clothing in need of removal. Jensen can't decide if he's happy or not that Deacon picks that moment to reenter the room. Clearing his throat, Jensen grabs one of the warm towels and gestures at Jared.

“Alright, so, I need you to lay down on your back and then we can roll you over onto your left side to get you all hooked up and ready to go. Deacon, you wanna help Jared situate himself while I bring everything on line?” Deacon nods and reaches out a hand to straighten Jared's legs as he lies back on the table.

“Can I just say, it's not fair that you've been in a nasty accident and your legs still look better than mine? Seriously, I'm incredibly jealous, Jared. You need to let me in on your secret,” Deacon says, and Jensen is happy to have the focus on someone other than him.

“I ran at least ten miles every day. Five in the morning to wake myself up, and then, another five at night, if I wasn't too beat after crawling around in debris all day.”

“Yeah, I'm not that committed to the cause,” Deacon replies, “I guess I'm stuck with my chicken legs for all eternity. Alright, I'm going to get the hell out of here before you reach the point in this session where Nurse Jensen here asks you to turn and cough.” Jared and Jensen both reach out to smack at Deacon's arm before he has a chance to pull away.

“Hey! That's harassment, and I don't have to deal with it.”

“So get out of here and I won't feel compelled to hit you again.” Jensen says, giving Deacon a pointed look. Deacon flips them both off and saunters out of the room.

“Okay, so, now that the floor show is over, what do you say we get you stretched?” Jensen asks, turning back to Jared.

“That works for me.”

“I'm going to slide your boxers down so I can put the pads along your lower back and hips. I'll also put two each on either side of your buttocks to stimulate the muscle groups while the rack is using tension to stretch out your vertebrae and take pressure off the disks that are being compressed.”

“Just don't cop a feel while I'm not looking. If you're gonna feel me up, I'd like to know about it.” Jared jokes.

“You really need to stop listening to Deacon. I can only take so much shit before I snap and beat on the both of you.” Jensen makes sure all the sticky pads are in place before he rolls Jared over to his back again and hooks his upper body to the tension harness.

“This might get a little noisy, but I can turn some music on, if you like. The goal here is to make you relax and not think about what we're actually doing to you.”

“That's fine, just don't put on any of that light easy listening, Weather Channel pseudo porn music garbage and I'll be fine.” Jensen laughs and tucks a sheet around the lower half of Jared's body, adding a few heating pads to make sure he doesn't get cold.

“Okay, so, no new age jazz music, got it. I'm going to turn the unit on, now. You might feel the ones on your lower back. If they're up too high and start to hurt, just let me know, okay?”

“Jensen, I'm probably not going to feel...Jesus! That feels like someone poking me over and over again.” He looks over to see Jensen turning the dial back down.

“I told you you'd feel it on your lower back. Honestly, Jared, when are you going to realize that I'm quite familiar with the extent of your sensory perception by now?” He adjusts it down to a more reasonable level and thumbs through the playlists on his iPod, until he finds something Jared might like.

“I've got another patient to check up on, but I'll be back in twenty minutes or so to check on you. If you need anything before that, just hit the call button, and one of the aides will come in to see you. Deacon and Abby are working over on this side of things today.”

“You head off to help someone else. I'm going to settle into a nice little nap here, if this medieval contraption allows it.”

Jared does, in fact, start to feel tired. He's just starting to nod off when, Jensen knocks lightly and opens the door.

“Okay, massage time, as usual, but I'd like to try something different with you, today, if you're up for it?”

“Should I be worried? You're not going to try to poke me with sharp objects, are you? Because I really wasn't a fan of the physical therapist in the hospital who did that to me.” Jared rolls slightly onto his back and cranes his neck so that he can look at Jensen whiles he's talking to him. It just seems weird to talk to a wall when there's a real person to address. He finds Jensen smiling, not quite managing to hold back a laugh at Jared's question.

“No sharp objects, promise. I just want to see if the therapy we put you through today improved your range of sensation. Normally I just go through and work the knots out of the muscles in your lower body that I know have tensed up. This is going to require my hands going places they don't usually go.” As soon as he finishes that sentence, Jensen's cheeks begin to turn pink.

“That... I didn't. Wow, that totally came out wrong.” Jensen says as Jared chuckles.

“Don't worry about it, Jensen. That's a hell of an ego boost. I haven't had someone this hot for my fine form since I was staying in the hospital. Good to know I still have the touch.” Jensen punches him in the arm, but he's laughing while he does it, just to make sure Jared knows he's not really upset.

“Jerk. Roll back over so I can get started.” Jensen helps Jared turn over and find a comfortable position back on his side. At least, to himself, Jensen can admit that this is a somewhat selfish exercise on his part. It's a chance to get his hands on more of the body that's been plaguing his thoughts for weeks. He starts by spreading his fingers out over Jared's thigh, pressing down every so often in search of muscles that have locked up after being exposed to the electricity from the stim pads.

“Do you feel anything?” He's working a particularly stubborn knot out of Jared's thigh.

“I can feel the rest of my body moving to counteract you, but I can't actually feel you touching me.” Jensen moves his hand to the right, fingers walking a path up over Jared's hip. He hears Jared's quick intake of breath the same time he sees Jared's skin react to his touch. A trail of chill bumps forms in the wake of Jensen's ministrations, and he pulls his hands away.

“Did that hurt?” He starts to worry when the silence stretches out after his question.

“No. It actually...kinda tickles. Is it supposed to hurt? You're not using the needle on me, are you?”

“No needles, remember? I promised not to use them.” He puts his hand back down and traces over the same area of skin.

“I just don't want to cause more harm than good. Sometimes nerves can overreact to the slightest amount of stimulation and cause a pain response. Sort of like fibromyalgia, but not quite. You've definitely gotten more sensation back, Jared. Compared to the prognosis from the therapist at the hospital, this is a huge improvement.” Jensen is so focused on what his hands are doing, it takes a few seconds for him to realize that Jared's shoulders are shaking and his upper body is curled in on itself. He pulls his hands back as fast as he can, not wanting to hurt Jared anymore if that's the reason for his reaction.

“Jared? You okay?”



Jared's pretty sure he should feel slightly ashamed by the fact that he's crying over something so small as a ticklish feeling. He's also fairly certain that most other people, in his situation, would be doing the exact same thing when faced with a virtual miracle like this. It takes his brain a full minute to process that Jensen is talking to him. Calling Jared's name in a rather urgent tone that he should probably respond to so he doesn't send Jensen into early heart failure.

“Yeah, I'm... It's a little overwhelming, you know? I mean, I'm all about working at the therapy with the intent to get better. I guess I just...forgot that it was an option for me anymore.”

“I know what you mean about it being overwhelming. Every time I saw even the slightest improvement in my therapy I'd get so excited I'd offer to bring my therapist out for a beer. I'd feel like I was Superman and everything would come so much easier after that.”

“Why do I get the feeling that there's going to be a rather large 'but' appearing in this story any minute?” Jensen smiles and sets his hand back on Jared's hip.

“But then I realized that, even though there was an improvement, I still had a long way to go. I'm not saying don't be excited about this, Jared. Hell, if I it were me a few years ago, I'd probably be yelling and jumping for joy as much as my body would allow. I just don't want you to get discouraged when you notice you aren't getting better in leaps and bounds. This is probably going to be a slow process. I want you to be prepared for that.”

“Be cautiously optimistic, that's what you're saying, right?”

“Exactly. Don't lose sight of that goal, and don't lose hope, but realize there might be a few pitfalls leading up to the end stage of your recovery.”

It's good advice and Jared tries his best to take it to heart.



It's been a while since Jensen's done something this stupid. He's got a stitch in his side sending a shooting pain up the right half of his body every time he takes a breath. His biggest problem right now, though, is his hip. It takes all his concentration to make sure no one's the wiser. He's no longer used to extensive workouts in the pool. As a therapist, he's normally only in the water to help his patients. But there was no way he was going to turn down a challenge. Which is how he managed to wind up in this mess.

“You wait, next week this time, you're gonna be the one trailing behind like a gimpy fish.” Mark gripes good naturedly Jensen smiles at the younger man as Mark carefully walks up the pool steps and grabs a towel.

“If we're lucky, by this time next week, you won't have to worry about coming to Green Haven every other day. Have a good night, man.” Jensen says with a small wave. He's still trying to get his breathing under control when Deacon walks into the pool room.

"Jesus, Jensen. What the hell happened?" Deacon asks, concern evident in his voice.

"I was dumb. Bet Mark I could do more laps, and now I'm paying for it." Deacon laughs, shaking his head and walks closer to the edge of the pool. They're the only two left, now that Jensen's strength training session is over, and their voices echo faintly off the walls. Makes it easier for Jared to hear what they're saying from his spot just inside the locker room door.

"You want to stop laughing and help me out here?" Jensen asks, and there's enough of a pained hitch in his voice that Jared inches his chair further out into the pool area to try and assess the situation on his own.

"You're lucky I like you so much." Deacon replies. Jared watches as Deacon rolls up his pant legs, steps down into the pool and hoists Jensen up onto the steps. Feels a surge of jealousy seeing someone else touch him the way Jared would if he weren't so damn scared of the repercussions.

"You ever gonna learn you're not superman? These guys look up to you, Jensen. They see you pushing it like that when you really shouldn't, what kind of message you think that sends?" Jensen can tell by the line of questioning that Deacon is gearing up to be in full on mother hen mode.

"Deac..." Deacon reaches out, hand resting on Jensen's knee to quiet him.

"Nah, hear me out. You're worried about Patrick doing too much, too soon, right? What if he'd been in here working on his exercises and saw you screw yourself up?" Jensen leans back on his elbows, grimace marring his features, and Deacon's hand moves from resting on his knee to rub the knots out of the muscles in Jensen's thighs. If Jared wasn't seeing green before, he definitely is now. It clicks in his brain that there's more between these two than just friendship and a common work environment. They're at ease with each other in a way that speaks of shared intimacy.

"I get it man. I'd be poster boy for the whole do as I say, not as I do movement." Jensen says as Deacon works his way up Jensen's right leg, fingers tracing lightly over the network of scar tissue to settle on his hip. His nerves are amped up enough from over use that he feels a sharp stabbing pain in his hip as Deacon tries to flex and relax the muscles knotted around the joint with gentle pressure. "Christ, go easy. I'm hurtin' here, Deacon."

"And just whose fault is that, Jensen?" Jensen doesn't give a response, and Deacon laughs. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Come on, let's get you into the whirlpool, so your hip doesn't lock up on you."

It's not the first time Jared's seen Jensen half naked and wet. They started his own exercises in the pool a few weeks ago and Jared had been shocked to see the scars, when Jensen walked out of the locker room in swim trunks and a towel. Without thinking, he'd reached a hand out to touch and pulled it back just as his fingers met shiny pink skin.



“Alright, you ready to log some time in the water?” Jensen doesn't hear a response as he walks into the pool area, towel slung around his shoulders. He knows for a fact that he was the only person to leave the locker room, so it's more than a little concerning that he doesn't see or hear Jared right away.

“Jared?” He'll deny it completely when asked later on, but Jensen can't help letting out the rather undignified squawk at the brush of fingers over his hip.

“Son of a bitch... Answer me next time, will you? You had me thinking you fell in or something.” Jensen gripes.

“Sorry. I was just... What happened? I mean, if you don't mind my asking that, is?” God knows Jared isn't too keen talking about his accident, just yet. Part of him doesn't want Jensen to feel forced into telling him, but the larger part really wants to know everything he can.

“Right place, wrong time. Someone tried to hurt a good friend, and I was caught in the crossfire.” Jensen stops, mind focusing on the memories it usually tries so hard to lock away.

“You know what? Forget I asked. It's none of my business, and I'd probably have bitten your head off if you'd asked me the same thing out of the blue.”

“It's fine, Jared, I promise. It's just been so long since someone asked that I didn't have that prepared answer ready to go. Most of my patients are either focused on covering their own injuries and scars, or just don't feel comfortable asking in the first place. Now, are you ready to show off your back stroke?” Jensen sets his towel down on the row of benches that line the walls of the pool area and gestures Jared towards the area of the pool where he can easily make the transfer from wheelchair to water.

“Just don't let me sink like a stone, and I'll be happy.”



In the three months since his accident, Jared has learned more about himself than he knew in the previous thirty-four years of his life. The first thing he's discovered is that he's managed to amass a metric ton of random crap since he left the Army. Seriously, how many mismatched sets of dinner plates and flatware does a single guy need?

"Dude, if I were a frying pan, where would I be?" Jensen yells from the front of the apartment.

"I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say, kitchen, but if you're asking me, then that means it wound up in the wrong box." Jared sets down the plates he was unwrapping and wheels himself into the kitchen. He finds Jensen staring at the open fridge as if he's contemplating the meaning of life.

"Find something interesting in there? Or do you really just like staring at my lonely bottle of ketchup?"

"It's a dead sexy bottle of ketchup. I bet your mustard would be all over that shit if the door was closed.”

“That's just wrong. Stop perving on my condiments,” Jared replies, coming further into the room.

“My stomach is gnawing on my spine in search of sustenance. I was hoping to make grilled cheese or something easy, but the frying pan is MIA, and you don't even have any cheese.” He lets the door swing shut and turns to look at Jared.

“I thought you said you had someone stop by to stock you up on food?"

"Sorry, Dad, but my real parents didn't get a chance to go grocery shopping before the van showed up at the storage facility to load up my stuff. Just find someone to deliver a pizza and some wings, and we'll be fine. I don't think your stomach will have a chance to eat your spine before they get here." Which is only half true. Jared's parents probably could have taken care of the food issue had he not sent them home right after the bulk of his furniture was moved into his nice, new, wheel chair accessible ground floor apartment. He didn't mean to snap at them, but the stress and resentment have left him with a very short fuse these days.

It's not that Jared hates the apartment or his wheelchair. He hates the stigma that follows him now because he's stuck in the damn thing. Jared won't admit it, but he sulked for two days when his Dad came to the hospital a week before he was released and told him that there was no way he'd be able to keep living at his old place, while he was chair bound. It just wouldn't fit around the corners and the super couldn't do anything to retro-fit his apartment, because the building was zoned as historic. Ramps couldn't be installed without bringing down the wrath of the Historical Society. It wasn't a problem while he was staying at Green Haven, obviously, but, once he was approved to live on his own, he'd had to find new digs.

Thus the switch to his new apartment. The one consolation, other than finding a place that allowed him to keep his dogs, is when Jared finds out he's only a few blocks from Jensen and Deacon's place. So at least he's not completely out on his own in a strange neighborhood. Granted, the green-eyed devil on his shoulder isn't totally happy to learn that Deacon is still a part of the "Jensen Ackles' Private Life" package. He's fairly certain that they aren't an item anymore, especially judging by the looks that Jensen's been casting Jared's way since he showed up today to start getting him settled into the new place.

Jared first noticed that Jensen was acting differently during their therapy sessions a few weeks ago.

“Though seriously, what would I do with him if he was actually interested. I'm not even sure that part of the plumbing will work on any given day.” Jared thinks. And wasn't that an embarrassing thing to admit to Dr. Adams at his most recent appointment.

“Yeah, Doc, I've mastered the art of pissing without making a mess of the toilet, but I'm kinda missing the sexual interaction I used to get before. Ya know, even if it was with my own hand.”

"The swelling is still going down, so you could very well get all...sensation...back in the future. It may just take longer than you like. If you want, I can put you in touch with some support groups?"

"Uh, thanks Doc. I'll have to get back to you on that one."

Talk about awkward conversations.

"Earth to Jared." His brain snaps back to the present to find Jensen standing in front of him, one hand on the phone and the other waving in Jared's face to get his attention.

“Yeah...sorry. What do you need?”

“What do you want on your pizza, dude? Please don't tell me you're some kinda of vegan. I think I'd have to revoke your Man card if you told me you aren't a meat eater.” Jared has to keep the lizard part of his brain from replying that yes, he is, in fact, a meat eater, and would love to take a bite out of Jensen.

“Sausage and pepperoni all the way,” is what he says when he's certain that he can answer without scaring Jensen.

An hour later finds both men kicked back on the new, and heavy as all get out, leather couch in Jared's living room, watching the Mets get their asses handed to them by the Braves. There's an open pizza box sitting on the coffee table in front of them and a pile of soda bottles, surrounding it like hollowed out empty soldiers guarding a fort.

“So what made you decide to join the Army? Were you not interested in going to college, or was it just that seeing the far reaches of the planet down the barrel of a gun seemed more appealing.” Jared snorts and looks over towards Jensen.

“It's not all about carrying around a huge gun looking for things to use as target practice. A few guys from home started talking about joining not long after 9/11. So we all went down to the recruiter's office, talked to some of the guys there, and thought it was a good choice for us. My Momma wasn't too pleased when I came home that night and told her what I planned to do, but I don't think any mother is really prepared for that unless she's a military wife. And even then, what mother wants to see her child doing something so dangerous, right?” Jared unconsciously touches his right temple and remembers the blast that won him that particular injury.

“I made it through two separate tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan before the one that took me out of the game completely. I thought my Momma was gonna skin me alive when I told her I had an injury that would keep me from going back to my unit. She thought it was something severe, like losing a limb. I think we were both glad that it was just a vision issue that kept me from the fight.”

“Whose idea was it to start the Search and Rescue business? That's got to be just as dangerous. I mean...” Jensen trails off, realizing that Jared already knows his former job can be just as deadly.

“It's alright, Jensen. I know what you meant. And yeah, it was just as dangerous. But I still wanted to be able to do something to help the greater population. I could have come home and done private security, but I found that I wanted to do more than just be...a rent-a-cop. Don't get me wrong, firefighters do a lot of search and rescue when they try to figure out if everyone is out of a burning building, but even they need help. I guess you could say my team was the backup plan.

“The look on the faces of the people that we'd pull from buildings? It reminded me of the looks we'd get from the Iraqi people when they realized that they didn't have to be afraid of their government anymore. That kind of gratitude can't be faked. And for me, seeing that look on their faces was more than made up for the danger I put myself in every time I went into a collapse. I'm going to miss being able to see that look. I think that's what I hate the most about this injury.

“I can learn to get over being stuck in this chair for the rest of my life. But it pisses me off to no end that, in the blink of an eye, someone's carelessness took away that simple joy I got from doing my job.”

“I know what you mean. That's why I went back to school and became a therapist. I wanted to help people the same way I got help after my accident. Lord knows I was never gonna be cleared for normal duty at my former job either.”

“What were you doing before you started at Green Haven?” Jared is more than curious to learn the answer to a question that's been plaguing him since Jensen's vague answer in the pool that day. Unfortunately for him, Jensen's phone starts to chirp and vibrate across the table right as he opens his mouth to reply. Jensen checks the display and groans.

“Son of a bitch, it's Director Shepard. If I don't answer this, she's just going to send out a search party, and I don't think you want her knowing where you live.”

“Go ahead, it's fine.” Jensen stands up and walks into the kitchen to answer the call. Jared tries to eavesdrop as best he can, but to hear more than the low rumble of Jensen's voice from the other room, he'd have to turn down the TV, and that would be a little too obvious for his taste. A few minutes later, Jensen walks back into the room with a look on his face that Jared hopes is never directed at him.

“Apparently, the Board called an emergency meeting for eight o'clock on a Sunday morning, and I have to be there for it. If this is one of Shepard's crazy attempts to try to fire me, I'm going to be pissed. Not that you needed all that back story. But, the long and short of it is that I need to get home, get my shit together, and crawl into bed, so I can be fresh and ready for this stupid meeting tomorrow morning.”

“You know, I still know more than a few ways to kill someone, very quietly, in very little time. Might be something to keep in mind, all things considered.” Jared smiles to let Jensen know he's only joking about killing his boss. He watches as Jensen leans over to grab his wallet and keys off the table.

“I think I love you for even making that offer.” After hearing that, Jared doesn't think he can really be held responsible for his actions. He moves to the left, hand reaching out to brace on Jensen's shoulder and lands a kiss at the corner of Jensen's mouth. Jared pulls back almost as quickly as he moved in and looks down at the hands, now in his lap.

“I, uh... I should get going.” Jensen stands up straight and backs towards the kitchen and the front door. “I'll call you tomorrow, 'cause there's no way I'm letting that little action slip by unnoticed.”

Jared looks back up and sees a smile on Jensen's face. If it were possible, there would be a spring in Jared's step as he moves into the kitchen and locks the door behind Jensen.

Part 1 * Part 2 * Part 3