The Forged Son
Title: The Forged Son
Part One
Author: rahram
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Word Count: 1,334
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I'm inclined to suggest that this isn't happening, never happened, and will never happen. For if it did heads would explode and baby caterpillars would never get their wings.
Summary: When Jared shows up at his ex-lovers apartment with a box and a request, Jensen finds himself being pulled into the situation to help the younger man out.
More of my fic can be found Here
|Part 1| | Part 2| | Part 3|
Jensen opens the door after the tenth knock. “God damn people waking me up at fucking two in the morning,” he rants to himself as he twists the dead bolt, slides the top lock, and rips the chain from the third lock so he can open the door. His breathing stops as he looks at the dark haired man standing at his door. “Jared,” he whispers, backing up.
“They have my son,” Jared says in way of greeting as he walks into the apartment’s living room, not waiting to be asked in. “I need your help Jen.”
“Fuck, Jared,” Jensen sighs, turning and walking to his kitchen. It’s too damn early to even think, let alone deal with an ex-lover. “How the hell did you find me?” He asks, avoiding Jared’s problem, not wanting to think about Jared having a son. Without even looking back at Jared, he begins making a pot of coffee. He thought he was done with that part of his life when he left Jared eight years ago.
“I’ve known where you’ve been for the last three years,” Jared answers as he pulls a chair from the table and sits down, his eyes not straying from Jensen. “My son…” he begins once more.
“What the fuck do you expect me to do? If someone has your son, fucking call the cops like normal people.” Jensen yells from across the room, throwing his favorite coffee cup and watching as it shatters on the wall. What does Jared expect of him? They haven’t seen each other for years, and he comes wanting help. Jensen told Jared he didn’t want anything to do with him after their last fuck on Jared’s birthday eight years pervious. Jensen just pulled his clothes on, told Jared not to contact him because he meant nothing to him, and walked out of Jared’s town house, and never looked back.
Jared stands quickly, the chair sliding back before tipping and crashing to the floor. In seconds, Jared is in Jensen’s face, holding him by his t-shirt. “They’ll fucking kill him if I go to the cops,” he seethes, spittle splashing over Jensen’s face. “As bad as I fucking hate to admit it, you’re the only one I can turn to.”
“Then you really have no hope,” Jensen tells the younger man, meeting his eyes, and keeping his voice calm.
“You’d condemn a nine year old boy because you hate me that much?” Jared asks, his voice breaking with each word, his face falling from anger to depression as his fingers release their hold on the worn cotton.
“Nine?” Jensen asks looking at Jared with disgust, “You have a nine year old son.” As soon as Jared nods, Jensen laughs bitterly. “You knocked a chick up when we were together? That’s fucking great. It doesn’t matter though; I was cheating on you anyways.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jared whispers as he turns and heads for the door. “Listen, I’ll take my chances with the cops,” Jared tells him, his voice just as sad as the day Jensen left him pleading from the bed not to leave. “Don’t want to compromise the great Jensen Ackles.”
Jared around the corner of the kitchen, and without knowing why, Jensen knows he has to stop the taller man. “Jared,” he calls, following behind him, reaching him when he gets to the door. “I’ll help you, but afterwards don’t contact me again.” Jared just nods.
After running down to the car, Jared returns with the package he had received the day before in the mail. Jensen takes the box, walks over to the couch, and places the container on the coffee table. Perching himself on the couch he removes the lid, and pulls out a hat. Holding the light blue hat with the Titans logo threaded across the cap, he looks at Jared and raises an eyebrow, “You hate the Titans,” he says dropping the ball cap on the glass table top.
“Dorian loves them, I can’t convince him they suck,” Jared informs him, looking at the hat with more sadness than Jensen saw in his eyes eight years ago.
Jensen continues on, not adding that at least the kid was smart when it came to football teams, not wanting to remember the times Jared and he would fight over their favorite teams. Next, Jensen removes a photo of a kid tied to a chair. He’s blindfolded; a tie knotted in his mouth, and has a terrifying look that only a kid separated from his parents could have.
Jensen brushes his fingers over the boy. Looking at his pale complexion and his short brown hair, which is probably, usually spiked. His fingers travel down the boy, as his eye follows the invisible line and sees the rumpled school uniform. “Dorian?” he asks flipping the picture so Jared can see.
“Yeah,” Jared answers, reaching for the photo and stoking it, wishing it was his flesh and blood son standing here in place of the slightly distorted picture. “They took him right after school. I got there ten minutes too late.”
“Why didn’t you go to the cops as soon as you found him missing?” Jensen asks. He knows Jared waited at least a full day to come and find him, and Jared was never the type of person to leave someone in danger, and this is his kid they’re talking about.
“A guy came up behind me, when I was at the side of the building looking for Dorian,” he tells Jensen, his eyes not moving from his bound son. “He pushed a gun into my back, told me if I went to the cops they wouldn’t hesitate to kill my baby boy. Then he told me they would be in contact and slammed my head into the wall. When I was able to get back up the man was gone. I didn’t want to do something that would harm my kid. So I listened to him.”
“And his mother had no problem with that?” Jensen asks, “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Jared,” he continues, not letting Jared answer.
“He moms not in the picture, she signed him over to me, eight years ago.” Jared tells him, sounding more annoyed than ever.
Jensen just hums as he continues to go through the small box, “Everyone leaves you, so it’s a pattern,” he adds, not able to stop stabbing at Jared with his words, trying to get the man to just leave and not return.
Jared just grits his teeth, and remains silent.
Soon, Jensen pulls out the letter. It tells Jared that if the cops get wind of the kidnapping they would just kill Dorian and move on. Not having anything to bargain with was better than going to prison. “It doesn’t say what they want…” Jensen says to himself after reading the note two times.
“Please, Jensen, help me,” Jared begs, he figures Jensen isn’t even going to try; that he’s just going to look at the note, determine nothing can be done, put everything back in the box and direct Jared with the quickest way out.
“I told you I would,” Jensen tells him, “I’m going to go pack a couple bags. Write down your address, I’ll be there in a couple hours, I need to take this box to the lab and see if they can find anything.”
“My house?” Jared asks before it registers that Jensen’s going to take the box to other people, “Jensen you can’t, if they find out the FBI is looking into this, Dorian won’t stand a chance.”
“Yes, your house,” Jensen tells him slowly, “I’ll have to be there so in case they call. And the people at the lab work for me, they won’t don’t anything I tell them not to.” Jensen moves around Jared, grabs a notebook, and throws it at him along with a pen. “Now, write,” Jensen turns and heads for his bedroom to pack the items he’ll need to help Jared.
Part One
Author: rahram
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Word Count: 1,334
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I'm inclined to suggest that this isn't happening, never happened, and will never happen. For if it did heads would explode and baby caterpillars would never get their wings.
Summary: When Jared shows up at his ex-lovers apartment with a box and a request, Jensen finds himself being pulled into the situation to help the younger man out.
More of my fic can be found Here
|Part 1| | Part 2| | Part 3|
Jensen opens the door after the tenth knock. “God damn people waking me up at fucking two in the morning,” he rants to himself as he twists the dead bolt, slides the top lock, and rips the chain from the third lock so he can open the door. His breathing stops as he looks at the dark haired man standing at his door. “Jared,” he whispers, backing up.
“They have my son,” Jared says in way of greeting as he walks into the apartment’s living room, not waiting to be asked in. “I need your help Jen.”
“Fuck, Jared,” Jensen sighs, turning and walking to his kitchen. It’s too damn early to even think, let alone deal with an ex-lover. “How the hell did you find me?” He asks, avoiding Jared’s problem, not wanting to think about Jared having a son. Without even looking back at Jared, he begins making a pot of coffee. He thought he was done with that part of his life when he left Jared eight years ago.
“I’ve known where you’ve been for the last three years,” Jared answers as he pulls a chair from the table and sits down, his eyes not straying from Jensen. “My son…” he begins once more.
“What the fuck do you expect me to do? If someone has your son, fucking call the cops like normal people.” Jensen yells from across the room, throwing his favorite coffee cup and watching as it shatters on the wall. What does Jared expect of him? They haven’t seen each other for years, and he comes wanting help. Jensen told Jared he didn’t want anything to do with him after their last fuck on Jared’s birthday eight years pervious. Jensen just pulled his clothes on, told Jared not to contact him because he meant nothing to him, and walked out of Jared’s town house, and never looked back.
Jared stands quickly, the chair sliding back before tipping and crashing to the floor. In seconds, Jared is in Jensen’s face, holding him by his t-shirt. “They’ll fucking kill him if I go to the cops,” he seethes, spittle splashing over Jensen’s face. “As bad as I fucking hate to admit it, you’re the only one I can turn to.”
“Then you really have no hope,” Jensen tells the younger man, meeting his eyes, and keeping his voice calm.
“You’d condemn a nine year old boy because you hate me that much?” Jared asks, his voice breaking with each word, his face falling from anger to depression as his fingers release their hold on the worn cotton.
“Nine?” Jensen asks looking at Jared with disgust, “You have a nine year old son.” As soon as Jared nods, Jensen laughs bitterly. “You knocked a chick up when we were together? That’s fucking great. It doesn’t matter though; I was cheating on you anyways.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jared whispers as he turns and heads for the door. “Listen, I’ll take my chances with the cops,” Jared tells him, his voice just as sad as the day Jensen left him pleading from the bed not to leave. “Don’t want to compromise the great Jensen Ackles.”
Jared around the corner of the kitchen, and without knowing why, Jensen knows he has to stop the taller man. “Jared,” he calls, following behind him, reaching him when he gets to the door. “I’ll help you, but afterwards don’t contact me again.” Jared just nods.
After running down to the car, Jared returns with the package he had received the day before in the mail. Jensen takes the box, walks over to the couch, and places the container on the coffee table. Perching himself on the couch he removes the lid, and pulls out a hat. Holding the light blue hat with the Titans logo threaded across the cap, he looks at Jared and raises an eyebrow, “You hate the Titans,” he says dropping the ball cap on the glass table top.
“Dorian loves them, I can’t convince him they suck,” Jared informs him, looking at the hat with more sadness than Jensen saw in his eyes eight years ago.
Jensen continues on, not adding that at least the kid was smart when it came to football teams, not wanting to remember the times Jared and he would fight over their favorite teams. Next, Jensen removes a photo of a kid tied to a chair. He’s blindfolded; a tie knotted in his mouth, and has a terrifying look that only a kid separated from his parents could have.
Jensen brushes his fingers over the boy. Looking at his pale complexion and his short brown hair, which is probably, usually spiked. His fingers travel down the boy, as his eye follows the invisible line and sees the rumpled school uniform. “Dorian?” he asks flipping the picture so Jared can see.
“Yeah,” Jared answers, reaching for the photo and stoking it, wishing it was his flesh and blood son standing here in place of the slightly distorted picture. “They took him right after school. I got there ten minutes too late.”
“Why didn’t you go to the cops as soon as you found him missing?” Jensen asks. He knows Jared waited at least a full day to come and find him, and Jared was never the type of person to leave someone in danger, and this is his kid they’re talking about.
“A guy came up behind me, when I was at the side of the building looking for Dorian,” he tells Jensen, his eyes not moving from his bound son. “He pushed a gun into my back, told me if I went to the cops they wouldn’t hesitate to kill my baby boy. Then he told me they would be in contact and slammed my head into the wall. When I was able to get back up the man was gone. I didn’t want to do something that would harm my kid. So I listened to him.”
“And his mother had no problem with that?” Jensen asks, “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Jared,” he continues, not letting Jared answer.
“He moms not in the picture, she signed him over to me, eight years ago.” Jared tells him, sounding more annoyed than ever.
Jensen just hums as he continues to go through the small box, “Everyone leaves you, so it’s a pattern,” he adds, not able to stop stabbing at Jared with his words, trying to get the man to just leave and not return.
Jared just grits his teeth, and remains silent.
Soon, Jensen pulls out the letter. It tells Jared that if the cops get wind of the kidnapping they would just kill Dorian and move on. Not having anything to bargain with was better than going to prison. “It doesn’t say what they want…” Jensen says to himself after reading the note two times.
“Please, Jensen, help me,” Jared begs, he figures Jensen isn’t even going to try; that he’s just going to look at the note, determine nothing can be done, put everything back in the box and direct Jared with the quickest way out.
“I told you I would,” Jensen tells him, “I’m going to go pack a couple bags. Write down your address, I’ll be there in a couple hours, I need to take this box to the lab and see if they can find anything.”
“My house?” Jared asks before it registers that Jensen’s going to take the box to other people, “Jensen you can’t, if they find out the FBI is looking into this, Dorian won’t stand a chance.”
“Yes, your house,” Jensen tells him slowly, “I’ll have to be there so in case they call. And the people at the lab work for me, they won’t don’t anything I tell them not to.” Jensen moves around Jared, grabs a notebook, and throws it at him along with a pen. “Now, write,” Jensen turns and heads for his bedroom to pack the items he’ll need to help Jared.