R | In a Faraway Land, You'll Find Yourself | 1/5

[dugindeep]

When Jensen turned seven, his parents threw him a birthday party. It had all the fixings for a good afternoon - beautiful weather, a wide lawn to run, a dozen or so children, balloons, and games. But what he didn’t plan on was the overabundance of people his father and grandfather had invited to celebrate The Ackles Corporation being handed down a generation.

As his father celebrated his new position as President and Josh took charge of gametime with the kids, Jensen hid away in the back yard, winding through the luscious rose garden and plopping down on a patch of grass. He pouted for most of the afternoon, imagining himself as someone that people looked for and were excited about. That people found him important and needed and liked. Through it all he waited for someone to notice his absence or even stumble upon him; no one did.

It was just the first in a long series of incidents.

- - -

Even with the passing of a long twenty-five years, Jensen found himself in quite the same predicament. The evening reception was announced as the celebration for his thirty-second birthday but quickly proved to once again serve as a business function for Alan to schmooze his associates.

“Have you met my boy?” Alan asked with a rough tug of Jensen’s shoulders. “Regional Manager of Sales. Big time brain on this one. It’s his birthday!” Seconds later, the hand dropped and Alan spun to Josh, who was all smooth smiles and firm handshakes. “Josh, the oldest. Senior Manager of Operations. He’s your man.”

And then Jensen was long forgotten. It happened every ten to twenty minutes, depending on Alan’s attention span and how often he wanted to hear his own booming voice announce how terrific his two boys were.

To pass the time, Jensen habitually checked his phone. His thumb rode the edges of the buttons, daring himself to make the call. He should let Alex know that he might be late for their already delayed dinner, the only time anyone had put aside for his birthday. But he couldn’t, because Josh constantly stepped up to introduce him to another stockholder or lawyer or potential client, and Jensen had to once again do as he’d unfortunately done quite often lately: put his boyfriend on hold.

Come toasting time, Alan drew them in: Josh on his left, Jensen on the right, a strong arm over them both. He yanked them in tight as he spoke reverently about the success of the Ackles Corporation. How it would have never happened without the pride of the Ackles name, without the support of his dear Donna, and without the fierce work ethic of everyone at the party.

Then Alan raised his glass, asked everyone to join him, and announced, “This one’s for the Ackles Corporation. Fifty years of determination and twenty-five under my coat.”

Jensen looked on intently, ears at attention, heart beating. He waited for his father to continue on and finally acknowledge what the day really was.

Alan tipped the glass forward with a nod and sipped as the crowd did the same before applauding him and the company.

Jensen swallowed hard as Josh and Alan stepped aside, glad-handing each other, rejoining the celebration, and abandoning Jensen on the makeshift stage. With a tiny sigh, he downed the rest of his champagne, which was likely his fourth or fifth glass blurring the edges of his mind, then placed the flute to the ground, hopped off the stage, and left without another glance at the party.

Come morning, he woke with a surging headache and little memory of the last few hours of the evening. He couldn’t blame his body for inflicting the pain, because when he’d gotten home, he only paused for a moment before opening a bottle of whiskey and sipping through it while slouching into the couch for an evening of dull television.

Despite the persistent pounding, Jensen went on with his morning routine of showering, shaving, dressing, and taking the moderate walk into work.

Just minutes after leaving his apartment building, Josh called to rattle off the day’s first order. “You need to call Kripke and get him settled. They’re convinced that we can’t provide them adequate support for the contract you drew up.”

He huffed in return while slipping between the daily commuters. “Josh, I didn’t draw anything up. I’m not even allowed in the room when Dad talks to him. I think he had Tom prepare the documents.”

“Whichever, it needs fixing. They’re asking for another hundred hours of support per month and the way they’re looking - ”

“We can’t do that.”

Josh paused long enough to make Jensen wonder if the call had dropped, which forced him to pull it from his face and inspect it. No, his irritating brother was still there. “Since when?” Josh asked.

“Since there are only eighty hours in a work month. We’d have to dedicate one and a half trainers to cover just that time. Not to mention the sixty hours they’ve already been promised.”

There was another lengthy pause that tempted Jensen to disconnect just to have the conversation in person. But then he imagined his brother’s slim, three-piece suit mocking his own simple shirt and tie, not to mention the sharp glare Josh fed him whenever talking business.

“Josh, I don’t see how there could be enough staff to provide any additional hours. Let alone a hundred. If we don’t hire new trainers then it calls for overtime and extra shifts. The labor costs alone are frightening.”

Josh hummed lightly, flipping back into his business charm. “You’ll figure it out, Jennybean.”

Jensen paced quickly through an intersection and rolled his eyes at the name, neglecting to respond.

“If anyone can get this to work, it’s you. Kripke loves you.” Then Josh’s voice dropped with a muttered, “Lord only knows why.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Seriously, it can’t be done.”

“Make it work.”

“Josh, no - ”

“Make it work or someone else will.”

The familiarity of Josh’s tone stung deep within; threats of that nature weren’t handed out lightly, and he’d seen the effects when Josh or his father - and sometimes both - laid down excessive demands on their employees. Jensen felt the twist in his belly and the sharp headache return as he stalled at the curb and waited for the Walk sign to command him through the intersection.

“Great!” Josh said with excitement. “You’ll get the staffing upped and provide Kripke with a new contract by the end of the day. You’re the best, Jennybean.”

Jensen dropped his hand, clutching the phone tight against his leg as he closed his eyes. He warred with himself and, internally, his brother. Then the dire need to remain patient was quickly replaced by disbelief of his luck; a cab rolled by and kicked up enough of last night’s rain to douse Jensen head to toe in musty street water. He stood still, blinking repeatedly. Deep, rough breathing couldn’t settle him, and the tiny chuckles slipping from passing pedestrians didn’t help either.

Changing directions, Jensen entered the nearest coffee shop. He ignored the smooth browns painting the walls, the mellow muzak intending to calm customers, and he absolutely denied the cheery barista any attention while he grabbed handfuls of napkins and wiped himself down.

“Hi! Would you like to try a venti peppermint mocha cocoa frappachino?”

He turned until he was face to face with the woman. Her head bopped with a fresh smile and her long brown ponytail flipped with the movement. “A what?”

Her pep rose even higher as she rattled off, “Aventipeppermintmochacocoafrappachino.”

Jensen stared at her mouth, wondering how in the world it could curl around so many syllables in such a short time. His phone rang again and he answered with a huffy, “Yeah, this is Jensen.”

“You hung up on me?” There was just one short, haughty breath before Josh continued. “We were finally coming to an agreement and you hung up on me!”

“Did you ever think maybe it was with due reason?” Jensen grit out.

“I don’t understand.”

Jensen rolled his eyes at Josh’s suddenly level tone. “Maybe something happened and I couldn’t speak for a moment.”

“I … Jensen, what happened?”

As Jensen considered the bit of care, maybe even worry, on the other line, he tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, and hovered over the napkin dispenser to dry his face. He dropped the used napkins into the nearby garbage can before grabbing fresh ones and doing it all over again as he grumbled, “Nothing a little soap can’t clean up. A stupid cab hit me with wa-”

“A cab hit you? Jesus, okay, we’ll be there in a minute with the lawyers.”

Dramatic as ever, Josh continued rattling off instructions that had little to do with Jensen’s well-being and more with protecting (and capitalizing on) the Ackles name.

“It was water,” Jensen shouted, stopping Josh’s rambling and also a few nearby customers. “Sorry, okay?” he sighed at the few people glaring at him, considering the fact that he was well put out while they were all dry. A fresh, white towel appeared beside him and he nodded as he did a proper wipe of his neck, shirt, and pants. His gaze barely flickered to the barista with a soft, “Thank you.” Her smile was broad, nearly proud, and he eyed her.

“What the hell happened?”

“A cab drove by and splashed tons of water on me. It’s fine.”

“Jesus Christ, Jensen,” he spat out. “You’re late for the Singers because of a little water?”

A quick glance at the clock above his head confirmed it, and he cursed his soon o’clock meeting with Singer Supplies. He rattled off a goodbye and dropped everything to the counter before running out of the store.

As the door jangled, he realized he’d forgotten his phone, so he twisted back around, rushed to the counter, and lifted it with a curt nod. The barista grinned as she slid a covered coffee cup towards him. “On the house!”

“What? No. I have to -”

“It’s my insistence,” she announced, quite formally. “Please do.” Then she bowed, spreading her royal blue skirt and tipping her head down in the kind of salutation he hadn’t seen since … well, ever.

Jensen licked his lips with the thought of warm, smooth coffee, and snatched the drink up, took a quick, appreciative sip then nodded back. He took another quick sip, feeling the liquid instantly warm his insides.

The taste wasn’t like any of the flavors she’d declared, but instead broke out in vanilla and hazelnut, strawberries and cream, chocolate and coconut, so many of his favorite desserts bursting in his mouth.

With a furrowed brow, he regarded the barista and their equal gaze stretched on for far longer than Jensen had intended, and somehow, some way, he couldn’t turn way. As a soft twinkling sound filled his ears, he saw a soft line curling down the side of her face, carving out her jaw and chin before dabbing pinks and creams in accent of her porcelain skin before the lips split with a subtle red. He saw the swirl of a thin, sparkling chain circle her face and spin out above her head.

His phone rang again and when he blinked it all vanished.

“Yeah?” he spit out while looking back over the counter and finding her gone, as were the colors that had swung through the air.

“Jensen,” his father quietly seethed, “You’re late.”

Jensen found the clock reading quarter past. He had absolutely no explanation how picking up one cup could waste him twenty minutes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jensen clutched his coffee and rushed through the doors. He could visualize his father standing in the sleek conference room, staring down to the sidewalk thirty-three floors below, and cursing him out for being late. “I’m coming right now. It’s been a bad morning … long story, but I’m on my way.”

“You don’t want the Singers, I will gladly give them to Cassidy. She’s bloodthirsty as hell, Jensen. I’m not afraid to turn her on you,” his father warned while he hustled through the crowds.

His stomach flipped and lungs burned with the threat. He chuckled uneasily and did his best to charm his father. “No, no, no. No need to do that. Call off the dogs. I’m there. I’m practically in the building.”

Hanging up, he turned on the jets and sprinted the rest of the way.

It did little to ease him, even when he was exiting the elevator and marching on towards the conference room with a quick swipe across his forehead to clear away sweat. His phone rang again, and in an instant he had it open and quickly rattled off, “I’m here. I’m ten feet away. I’m walking in right now.”

“So you are alive?”

His reach for the doorknob stalled when a different voice filtered into his ears.

“I was a little concerned after you didn’t call last night.”

Jensen cursed, pressed the phone into his head before knocking it against his temple a few times, and then steeled himself against the fighting emotions. He needed to get into his meeting, but he really had to fix this. “Alex, hey. Hi. How are you?” he asked as nicely as possible. Yet again, he’d stood Alex up, and it wasn’t the first time he’d done it for family or professional obligations. Nor was it the second, third, or fourth; Jensen was likely in the double digits.

“Oh, I’m just fine. A little hungry, though. Sat at the restaurant for over an hour without food.”

“Yeah, about that -” Jensen was interrupted by incessant knocking just above his head, clear through his ears, and pounding in his skull. When he turned, his father’s fist smacked the glass of the conference room once more and then his face said it all; Jensen was doomed.

“I mean, you want to ignore your birthday, fine. But you could’ve let me know that before I made the reservations.”

He stalled while imagining the phone call lasting far longer than he had time for at that moment. A second later, his father’s face came closer to the frosted window.

Jensen shut the phone and marched to his professional death.

He slunk into a chair in the otherwise empty room, feeling his stomach churn at the Singers’ absence, and then even more so with his father’s belittling tone. “Ten feet away? Walking in right now?”

“Yes, I know,” he began as he slowly shifted forward.

The quick turn and pointed glare cut Jensen off. “This may not be your life’s blood, but it is mine. My father, your grandfather, left this here for us. To ensure our future, to keep us healthy and in home. And you disrespect it time and time again.”

“I know, but -”

“You don’t want to work here, you say so. I don’t need to have my own son embarrass me on a daily basis.”

Jensen fought to tell his father what he really thought: his heart wasn’t in this job, he wanted to do his own thing. Never before did he want so badly to free himself from what was holding him down and keeping him from being who Jensen Ackles truly could be. But a matter of pride - and the vision of his six-digit paycheck - won out. “No, sir. I’m proud to work here. My gravest apologies.”

There was a curt nod before his father turned foot and left the room.

Nothing was made better when Jensen returned to his office and Katie Cassidy leaned in the doorway. “Why, Jensen. You have yourself a rough morning?”

He steeled himself against the patronizing tone and her smart smile and snatched up paperwork to flip through. “Morning, Katie.”

She sauntered inside, fingers trailing a path along the arm chairs that faced his desk. “It’s a real shame you couldn’t be there for the Singers. They were so looking forward to dealing with you. But you know what? They seem to be pretty happy now. A little change can do ya good, ya know?”

Jensen raised his chin. “What’re you talking about?”

Her fingers flicked over her shoulder then swept along her arm until she pulled at the delicate edge of her silk blouse. “Just my adding Singer Supplies to the Katie Cassidy arsenal of healthy, happy clients.”

The papers slipped from his hands, fluttering to the desktop and further littering his already cluttered desk. “You didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” Katie paused just enough for his anxiety to settle, only to continue with: “But Josh did.”

There was a rough swallow and a cold chill slinking down his back before he could manage to say, “Josh gave you the Singers?”

“That he did.” Her palms pressed into the desk as she slowly leaned across it and into his space. “There’s a new sheriff in town. Really ought to watch yourself.”

He waited for her to leave before he ran out of his office, through the hallway, and up two flights of stairs to his brother’s corner office. He shoved the door open and stalled at the sight of Josh working Robert Singer in a manner that Jensen had hoped to be doing himself in celebration of locking Singer Supplies into a multi-year contract.

“Robert, Katie will take great care of you. She’s our top dog,” Josh said with a smile.

Jensen ran a hand through his hair, praying it was a dream, that his imagination had run off on him, and he wasn’t now facing the cold, bitter fact that his brother betrayed him with one handshake.

Robert Singer and his brother Richard slipped out of the office, sharing careful smiles with Jensen as they went. Then Jensen stared at his brother and harshly whispered, “Josh, Are you serious?”

With a quick nod, Josh flashed a glance Jensen’s way but continued to tidy his desk. “Jensen, how are you?”

“You gave the Singers to Katie?” Josh’s silence only boosted Jensen’s temper and he all-but shouted, “You gave the Singers to Katie? I brought them in here. They were my contact.”

“And it was your meeting with them that you missed.” Tense breathing punctuated their silence.

“Josh, how could you?”

“You weren’t here. I had to do something.”

“I’m your brother,” Jensen muttered, reliving every moment of the last thirty-two years where Josh did nothing but pester, punish, or ignore him.

Josh threw a hand into the air and, to his credit, did his best to share a bit of concern. “You weren’t here. Dad was scared of them walking out. I had to do something.”

Jensen continued to stare, outrage replaced by pain and the fire within willowing away.

With a shake of his head, Josh said, “You’re an Ackles, Jensen. You have to start acting like it.”

As if all his childish anguish from years spent answering to Josh suddenly crashed upon him, Jensen muttered, “Maybe I don’t want to,” as he turned away.

In minutes, he was gone from the building, taking the rest of the day off.

Adding insult to his morning, Alex called and gave a short, “I can’t do it anymore.”

Jensen pressed a fist into his eye and tried his best to salvage something of the day. “Alex, man, just. I’m having the worst day ever. And I just, can we not do this right now.”

A soft clearing of the throat made Jensen think of Alex in his office, ringing a finger inside his collar before doing his best to deliver bad news. “Well, I just did it. So you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Look, can we just talk this through? I’ll meet you wherever tonight. I promise I’ll be there, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

Another terse clearing of the throat and then a sigh. “Thursday.”

He huffed, disappointed in himself even further because Alex’s words only reminded him of yet another event he’d forgotten about. “Right, Mike’s birthday.”

“You going?”

“Yes. I will be there. I promise.”

“Jensen,” Alex said quickly then paused for attention. “I’m not waiting but five minutes and then I’ll forget you were even supposed to be there.”

“Won’t have to,” he answered confidently. There was no way he would miss it, no way he’d let Alex down again. Because it’d been a good, long year of them being happy together followed by six months of Jensen failing to be there. He was ready to straighten it out if it was the only thing he’d do right that week.

With the call settled and done, Jensen headed home, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t put in even an hour at work. He needed to be anywhere but the office and continued walking. He pushed the heel of his hand into his forehead, wondering if his growing headache was the cause of last night’s mess on the couch or the mess of the past few hours with his brother and dad. Maybe a combination of the two.

When he came upon the little coffee shop, the one he’d cleaned up in that morning, he barely hesitated to slip right in, praying that coffee would be his salvation. Jensen immediately saw the woman from that morning, gliding along the back wall, setting things back into place. As he stepped up to the counter, she turned in surprise and held a curious smile. “Oh, you again.”

“You remember me?”

“Jensen,” she smiled. “Of course I do.”

He looked to her with confusion. “Yeah, that’s right. You are …”

“Danneel,” she nodded and slightly bowed.

“Yeah, okay. Danneel,” he nodded back with an odd glance as her voice and movements were still incredibly proper. “That thing you made me?”

“Aventipeppermintmochacocoafrappachino.”

“You know, it tasted like none of those things. Nothing whatsoever.”

She didn’t waver or stop her smile; in fact, the grin grew wide and warm. “Did you like it?”

He stared for a while, suddenly mesmerized by her easy smile. Then he found himself nodding and smiling right back.

Her teeth shone so bright Jensen swore he heard them literally sparkle. “I am so glad. I had not planned for you so soon in the morning, so I had to speculate as what you would like. You were such a panicky mess that I just could not figure you out.” She clutched her hands together and sighed happily. “But you like it. You really like it.”

“Yeah, yeah. It was good,” Jensen said, scratching the back of his head with an awkward chuckle.

Quickly and excitedly, she clapped. “Good, yes! Yes! I shall make you a second.”

“Wait, no, I -” Before he could protest, she nudged a cup into his hand and stepped back, hands tucked behind her back and a tentative smile replacing the confidence she’d shown just moments earlier. Jensen looked down into the mug and caught shades of brown and cream swirling together in the center of the cup.

“You don’t drink it soon, it just might go bad.”

“Go bad?” he asked as he looked up. Her lips tucked tight into her mouth and she nodded. The colors continued to mix and his nose picked up gentle, sweet scents. He was all too fascinated to think further on it. “Alright,” he mumbled as he sipped, and again, flavors burst forth, ones he hadn’t anticipated. Not by a long shot; caramel and sweet cream followed by dark chocolate and raspberries.

“What is this?” he murmured, unable to stop himself from sipping again and again. “My word, it’s like,” and he paused, licking the inside of his mouth from all angles. “Is that blueberry?” Another lick brought him apple and yet another uncovered the decadent roll of espresso and more sweet cream. “Is this … this tiramisu?” Her eyes brightened as she drifted closer to the counter. “How in the world did you … How does it all come out like that?”

As she neared him, her hand rose in the air as she reached for his face then it swept down between them. She didn’t touch him, but he still felt a warm caress as the air brushed his face, softening his ever-persistent worry lines and tense frown. “You like it?” she whispered.

Everything swam within and he couldn’t deny the purely euphoric feeling rushing through his brain. He drank again and tasted strawberry rhubarb pie, one his mother made for his eleventh birthday. Another sip brought him ice cream sundaes his grandma would spoil him on, twirling chocolate and caramel together, adding a dash of pecans to the top. “I do. This is amazing,” he murmured while staring into the cup.

“I am so, so glad.”

He gulped down the rest of the drink, eyes rolling in ecstasy as more flavor danced on his tongue. He couldn’t even count them anymore, just knew that each taste was more delightful than the one before. In seconds, his memories rushed together and he saw hugs and kisses, laughter and smiles, all from sharing desserts and treats with his family and other joyful memories from the past. So many plucked from his childhood: he and Josh and Mackenzie playing across the enormous backyard, chasing each other and playing hide and seek through the rose garden. His mother joining them for a few rounds. His father bopping him on his knee as he read the Sunday comics. All moments that had been long forgotten through the pain of working so closely with his family and never living up to the standards they’d set for him.

As he softly smiled through the memories, he turned from the counter, and instantly dropped the mug, ceramic shattering on black tile and scattering everywhere as his eyes went wide.

“How did that -”

Jensen stared out the windows and into the abruptly dark night. Last he knew it was just past eleven in the morning. Instead of sunny outdoors, Jensen saw streetlamps flickering to life and passing cars flashing headlights. “But it’s not even lunch,” he mumbled as he turned to Danneel.

She was gone.

A quick glance across the shop and everything was tidy and put back into place. Not a single item was out and there was no sign of anyone when just moments ago there were other employees filling orders and customers scattered throughout the store. The clock confused him further, reading 8:46 while his watch and phone each read 10:58am.

He walked out of the shop and onto the street. Crossing the avenue and moving further down the sidewalk found him alone when just minutes earlier, the area had been bustling with workers taking their lunch breaks. Now, it was deserted and downright unsettling.

“Hello?” he shouted, not comforted in the least by it echoing up and down the buildings. “Anyone there?”

Jensen heard rustling from the nearest cross street and rushed to find it. Instead, he stalled at the sight of a ten-foot-tall shadow creeping its way down the block and near the intersection. Rumblings and snorting and animalistic breathing startled him, and worse yet, the shadow became more distinct the closer it got. Horns flipped up from the creature’s nose and long fangs cut down around its mouth.

He backpedaled, lost his footing, and fell. The panting grew louder and Jensen’s heart raced at the shadow of the creature’s long tongue lolling out of its mouth, sliding up the side of its face, and back in. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the beast’s shadow as it continued to growl then lick its chops. “Don’t be hungry,” he mumbled. “Please don’t.”

The shadow crept closer, stretching even further up the brick facade until it was just feet from exiting the alleyway and showing itself. It was then that Jensen spun up to his feet and took off.

His dress shoes did little for traction, but he sped away as quickly as possible, sprinting across pavement, turning corners, skipping over cracks and potholes in the streets. Glances here and there showed him that the beast, all dark and slick with sweat, was galloping far enough behind that Jensen wasn’t in immediate danger, but it was moving with such ease that he was sure he would tire before it would.

At the corner of the city park, he spun out on the grass. It was still chasing him, and he scrambled to his feet and ran and ran and ran.

Suddenly, he slipped and fell into a deep hole, landing belly down on solid earth with his hands splayed out, knees knocked into stiff dirt, and head clunked equally hard. Jensen looked up to the sounds of the monster growing close, snuffling and lapping its tongue all around its massive mouth. Before he could truly handle the dilemma, his eyes rolled back and his head thumped back down to the ground as darkness engulfed him.

TWO