Parting Gifts, Part III
Title: Parting Gifts
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for violence
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own these people. Slavery is outlawed. To the dismay of some, I suspect.
WARNINGS: My first RPF. If this is anywhere near the truth, I'm from the Gamma Quadrant.
Summary: Jared Padalecki lost his husband, Jensen Ackles, through neglect. Then the real nightmare begins when a group kidnaps Jensen and ransoms him for fifteen million dollars. The problem isn't paying the money: it's getting Jensen back alive and in one piece.
Title Page
Day Two, Part Two
Ian Jackson waited patiently as his boss debriefed Vladovic. As expected his superior wasn’t at all pleased with how things turned out.
“Bloody necklace?” Harlan said curtly. “I gave orders for a clean delivery.”
Jackson raised a placating hand. “Couldn’t be helped. Ackles was trained like you said, and his response time was good. He almost got away. Thought it’d be better to deliver the message with some blood than risk cleaning it up and leaving something behind.”
Harlan maintained his gaze at Vladovic the entire time Jackson spoke. After a moment he asked, “What about the girl?”
“They got her. I saw to that.” Jackson answered. “So, nine then?”
“As planned," Harlan answered. "Peter, make sure Will's got the computer ready. We can't afford any more fuck-ups."
Vladovic nodded hastily and left. Jackson opened a window and lit up a cigarette. He went through two before deciding it was safe to speak to his boss.
“You know Ackles, don’t you?”
Harlan didn’t even look surprised. “His extraction was my final mission. Goddamn son of a bitch nearly cost me my entire team.”
“So this is payback?” Jackson was stunned by the answer. Harlan was not the type to hold grudges.
“No, I actually like the man. He was half out of his mind with fever but it took two medics and myself to subdue him and get him on the boat. Got to admire that kind of loyalty.”
"Why him then?”
“Because he’s got one rich husband, or fuck buddy, or whatever you call it nowadays. And he’s smart. He won’t do anything stupid, not if it meant risking his daughter’s safety.”
“But is he the type to do something stupid if it’s just him?”
“Probably. Which is why we can’t lose control, not even a little bit.”
“That’s not going to be easy to do for forty-eight hours.”
“Probably not, but the money’s a guarantee, Jackson. If I was a faggot and rich like Padalecki, I’d pay anything to get Ackles back.”
“But fifteen million?”
“The man’s private net worth is four hundred million. And that’s last year’s estimate. If he can't then that fancy private insurance firm covering his ass will. Either way, we get what we need. Don’t worry about that.”
Vladovic gently placed the unconscious man on the pile of blankets. He remembered Harlan's orders not to harm or damage Ackles. He's screwed up once already. Vladovic knew there would be no second chances: a man like Harlan would make sure of that.
“I’m glad we didn’t take the girl,” Masterson said as he shoved the styrofoam cooler against the wall with his foot. “It’s bad juju to hurt children.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Vladovic gave a nod at the cooler. “Did you make sure?”
Masterson nodded. “It has enough food and water for two days, five if Ackles decides to go on a diet.”
“Then we’re set. Let’s get out of here.” Vladovic didn’t like the room. It reminded him too much of Russian prisons.
The two men left, not realizing their victim was awake and listening. Jensen waited for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time before moving. He sat up cautiously, fully expecting his head to spin. To his relief, it didn’t happen. Whatever was in the spray can it had to have been top quality because he didn’t have a headache or a dry mouth either. With studious care he stood up and examined the room.
There was no bed, just three blankets. Obviously the kidnappers knew that weapons could be fashioned out of bed coils. A sensor toilet was at the other end of the room with a single roll of toilet paper. Its seat was missing.
With some trepidation Jensen examined the door and realized it was the type used in restaurants for walk-in fridges. With a shudder he realized that was exactly where he was locked up in - a refrigerated room, maybe even a butcher’s. There was no easy escape from here, not unless one of his captors made a critical mistake.
Jensen realized he was slipping into hysteria and forced himself to calm down. Anna was safe. That gave him great comfort. He also knew he had enough food for five days, and that meant there was plenty of time for Jared to do whatever necessary to find him. Hell, with the way he was feeling he could probably stretch the supplies to seven or even ten.
Jensen spotted a book on top of the television. He gasped in shock. It was a tattered copy of Rand’s The Fountainhead.
How the hell do they know? Jensen thought, staring at the book with wide eyes. Did he mention Rand’s masterpiece in one of his interviews?
Jensen cautiously took the book and opened it. The pages were practically falling out of the book but it was still readable. He knew he was being watched and guessed his captors wanted him preoccupied. He was more than willing to let them think that. But when the time came he was going to do whatever necessary to escape.
Jensen knew Jared would pay the ransom. Considering how guilty Jared must feeling, he knew his husband would pay without hesitation. But Jensen also knew that a paid ransom wouldn't guarantee his freedom. They might just leave him locked in here to slowly starve to death, or even worse, suffocate if they turned off the ventilation system.
He had long ago learned not to trust kindness of strangers. It was a bloody and painful lesson, one that would remain with him until the day he died.
Jensen had another reason for escaping. He had woken up when the men were depositing him into his room and heard someone call out the name ‘Harlan’. It took him a while to remember why the name sounded familiar. But when his memory finally did come back, it did so with vengeance.
He remembered the soldier from the Angola nightmare. Hard to forget a man who looked like the human personification of Ares. Tall, strong, angular face topped with short, curly black hair, he possessed a stance that a bull couldn’t shake. Jensen also remembered the vicious right hook the man gave him when he began struggling. Half delirious with fever and malnutrition, Jensen thought the hospice was going to burn down unless he was actually in the building.
By the time he woke up he was in a navy ship the size of New Jersey. Harlan visited him in sick bay the second day and they had an awkward if honest conversation. Jensen fully understood the lieutenant’s actions and told him he had no desire to press any charges. Harlan, in turn, listened to Jensen’s heartfelt speech about why he had placed himself in such precarious position in Angola. Jensen didn’t suffer from a martyr’s complex. The truth was there was so much shit to do in the refugee camps and he was one of the few who qualified for the work. And as the years passed, he actually fell in love with his job and the people he worked for. Not many people could honestly make that claim and Jensen knew it, which was the main reason for his violent behavior with Harlan and his men.
They accepted each other’s apology and went their separate ways. Or so Jensen thought. He wanted to believe the Spartan lieutenant was in no way involved in this mess, but he wasn’t going to gamble his life and his family’s welfare on such useless hopes. He spent nearly fourteen years in Africa, working at various refugee camps and medical centers. And during that time he had faced warlords, slave traders, psychotic killers, spree killers, mass murderers, child rapists and other sick fucks who would have gladly cut his throat for ten dollars or less. So, if the kidnappers thought they were dealing with some lily-bellied dumbfuck then that would be their miscalculation: one that he was hell-bent on fully exploiting.
So, he quietly read Rand’s book until the television suddenly came on. He winced at the program and wondered why the hell he was being forced to watch Disney’s Christmas Parade. Then he realized it was probably because they needed to prove he was alive. Jensen decided to make a small meal in the hopes that if Jared were watching he would see that Jensen was alive and well.
Whatever happens, take care of Anna. She’s the best part of me, Jared. Remember that, Jensen thought as he forced himself to eat.
Jared knew he was being twitchy but couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. The brief glimpse of Jensen had wrung all his self-control and the collapse that happened in the aftermath had drained him. Jeff stood by calmly, letting him cry until there were no tears left.
“I can’t face Anna right now,” Jared said hoarsely.
“I’ll talk with Justin,” Chris said and left the room.
Jared wiped his face with his hands and looked at Jeff. “Now what happens?”
“They know we saw the broadcast. It’s their move now," Jeff answered. "And he looks good. If Jensen was injured it couldn't have been too serious."
Jared nodded in agreement, his face still buried in his hands.
Jeff’s cell rang and he answered it quickly. “Morgan.”
“Hey there, buddy,” Kripke said. “I just got through shuffling the call and the web broadcast.”
“Anything?”
“Nada, the bastards piggy-backed through several servers. Damn fuckers know what they’re doing, that’s for sure.”
“Where did the signal falsely originate from?”
“I tracked it to Hungary. Why are you asking?”
“Even if it’s false, there may be a reason why the kidnappers chose the location. Any chance you could get more?”
“I’m working on it right now. Thought you might want an update.”
“Thanks.”
Jared looked at him with bleak eyes. “They can’t trace anything, can they?”
“Not yet, but Kripke is a fucking genius so I wouldn’t throw in the towel yet.”
Chris rejoined them with Steve looking flushed and excited.
“So you got something?” Jeff said.
“You’re going to love this,” Steve answered and dumped several folders on Jared’s desk. Jeff took the thickest one and began reading.
“What the hell,” he whispered after he finished.
“No kidding,” Steve said. “All the other heists are just the same. Has to be the same gang.”
“Care to fill in the rest of the class?” Chris drawled.
Steve looked at his friend then at Jared who watched them owlishly. “Around March, a gang of professional thieves began hitting banks, emptying out safety deposit boxes. Get this, their last heist was in Torino, Italy.”
“Their last heist?” Jared echoed.
“Their luck ran out. They were coming out of a bank when they met up with a squad of police cars returning from a protest. The getaway driver, one Sophia Mazzanti, got caught. Because the robberies were so high profile she got the royal treatment. It took less than a day for her to crack.
“She told the interrogators that the men needed approximately twenty million dollars to make a drug transaction. They managed to steal 8.2 million dollars before Torino.”
“So they got less than half the money they needed,” Jeff said. “That’s real bad for them. Did she say anything else?”
“Just that the mastermind’s an ex-military guy and plenty scary. She never met the man but her boyfriend works for the group and he was convinced the guy was a high-ranking officer. It’s only a guess since we have no corroboration.”
“How can we get access to Mazzanti?” Chris asked.
“We can’t. She was being transferred to a more secure location when her car exploded. The body count included her, the two detectives with her, the driver, and two pedestrians who were unfortunate enough to be caught in the blast.”
“Jesus,” Jared said, his face turning ashen. “They killed five people just to get her?”
Jeff heard the panic in Jared’s voice and said, “Professionals, Mr. Padalecki, which is a good thing for us. Remember that.”
“The SS were considered professionals!” Jared stormed at Jeff. “But something tells me you wouldn’t be so happy to negotiate with the fuckers!”
“Of course not. I can’t speak German,” Jeff quipped.
Jared gaped at the man before slumping into a chair, laughing thinly. “You are a strange man, Jeff Morgan.”
“Oh, I could’ve told you that,” Steve said with a crooked smile.
“Sorry for yelling,” Jared said.
“Not a problem. I was expecting it for a while now,” Jeff answered kindly. He saw a photograph on the mantelpiece and picked it up. He needed to distract Padalecki right now. Otherwise, the man would shatter permanently and become useless. “Nice, is this an anniversary picture?”
Jared saw the photo and shook his head. “No, actually, that was taken the first day we met.”
“Really?” Chris said, taking the picture from Jeff. “You guys look like old friends.”
“It was my thirtieth birthday and my momma threw the biggest party in the history of San Antonio. Jensen was invited so he brought a date who wasn't me.”
“Something tells me the guy went home disappointed,” Jeff said.
“No, not really. The date was Tom Welling.”
“Tom … he’s a friend of the family, isn’t he?” Jeff asked.
Jared nodded, “And he’s straight. Jensen roped him into coming with him because he was afraid of being mugged by all the Texas mothers who’ll be attending with their single daughters.”
“He wasn’t out then?” Chris asked.
“He was. But you have to understand, homosexuality is an obstacle course as far as Texas mothers are concerned. If Jensen had shown up by himself he would’ve been cornered in five minutes flat. With Tom in tow, he was guaranteed some breathing space.”
“No kidding, the guy’s almost big as you,” Jeff said, remembering the pictures he’d seen of Welling.
“He’s a good man, through and through. Didn’t tell anyone he was just there for show. Didn’t care if people thought he was gay either. Jensen was his friend and his friend needed help, and that was enough for Tom.”
“No wonder he’s still your friend,” Steve said.
“What happens now?” Jared asked.
“Now we wait for the ransom demand,” Jeff answered.
“If it’s just about money…” Jared said slowly.
“We play it by ear, but if we think Jensen will be released, then we pay it.”
“What about the FBI?” Jared asked and noticed Steve and Chris trading looks.
“That’s your call, Mr. Padalecki,” Jeff said. “I cannot tell you what to do about bringing in the authorities.”
“Like we discussed before: If they are pros, and they find out about the Feds they’ll cut their losses and run. Mazzanti's murder is a proof of that.”
“If it’s the same gang, yes, that’s would be my conclusion.” Jeff answered.
“Then no FBI. Not yet,” Jared said breathlessly.
Jeff didn’t say anything but the tension in the room immediately dialed down several notches.
July 19, 2000
“God loves me,” Megan said with a blissful smile.
Jared stopped eating the lobster cocktail and turned to his sister. Megan wasn’t a big mystery like the rest of her gender, but there were moments when her outbursts worried him.
“And this revelation came on my birthday how?” Jared grinned as Megan rolled her eyes.
"The guy that just entered the room, dumbass.”
Jared saw the stranger and had to admit, yeah, God loved somebody when he made that tall drink of water. Black hair, striking blue eyes, and a body that Jared would envy, and he worked out religiously five times a week.
“Well, here’s your chance to make momma’s dream come true,” Jared said, nudging his sister.
“It is, isn’t it?” Megan brightened considerably. “Can you imagine me meeting my future husband at your stupid birthday party?”
“Hey now, don’t be talking smack about the party where your dream hunk made his appear…”
“God hates me,” Megan interrupted with another dramatic sigh.
This time Jared knew to look at the doorway. He spotted another man joining Megan’s future fiancé and had to agree. God hated not only Megan but him also, ‘cause the tall drink of water’s date was a man whose beauty could stop satellites from spinning their orbits.
“Jesus, are those lips real?” Megan said after a thorough perusal. “And how is it fair that his eyelashes are thicker than mine? And I’m wearing mascara!”
“Maybe he’s wearing mascara,” Jared said lamely.
“Nuh-uh, those are totally natural. Ooohhh, there goes mom! And look at her go!”
Jared chuckled at Megan’s observation as he watched Professor Sharon Padalecki cut off the other mothers before they swarmed around the two men and do ungodly things to them. Like trying to convince them heterosexuality was worth a shot, for God and Country if nothing else.
The Satellite Killer seemed genuinely glad to see his mom and gave her proper kiss on the cheek. The two chatted for few minutes before she spotted her two children. With determined look she ushered the guests towards Jared and Megan.
“Ah shit, this is going to be so depressing.” Megan hissed and dusted off imaginary crumbs from her dress.
Jared did the same with his suit but in his case, the crumbs weren’t so imaginary.
“These are my two youngest, Jared and Megan. This is Jensen Ackles and his date, Tom Welling,” Sharon said with caged eagerness.
Megan looked at the shorter man, “You’re Jensen Ackles?”
“Yes, I am,” Jensen replied with a puzzled smile. “Why is that a surprise?”
“No, it’s just that with all your work, I expected someone … older.” Megan finished lamely.
Jared rolled his eyes, “She means someone much less attractive.”
Megan gave him an evil eye but kept her mouth shut.
“Their conversational skills need a little polishing,” Sharon said dryly. “It’s the food. They eat more than they should and all the blood rushes from their heads to their stomachs. It’s in the Padalecki genes I’m afraid.”
Jensen managed to control his laughter but his date was not so successful. Tom turned to Jensen and said, “I’ll get us something to drink. Excuse me.”
“Why don’t I join you?” Megan said with a winning smile.
Before Tom could accept or refuse she linked her arm with his and practically dragged him to the bar. With selfish glee Jared studied Jensen while his date being stolen right in front of him.
"What do you think of the party?" Sharon asked.
"It's definitely going down in San Antonio's history as the party to beat. I heard the catering company was flown in from Las Vegas?"
“I have to make sure my guests are well fed and in no condition to drive,” Sharon said with a cheerful smile. “That way I’m guaranteed to raise the money necessary for the new hospital.”
“You have an open bar?” Jensen asked with admiration in his eyes.
“Of course, how else could you squeeze money from some of these tightwads? By the way, do you mind?" Sharon suddenly produced a camera and smiled charmingly. Jared didn't hesitate: he threw his arm around Jensen's shoulder and pulled him close. Sharon snapped a picture and said, "Jared, entertain our guest and please behave. The last one’s still thinking about filing a civil suit against you.”
Jared looked at his mother with love and exasperation as Sharon glided away.
“She’s awesome,” Jensen said. “You're so damn lucky.”
“I am,” Jared admitted with a sheepish grin. “She gets a bit much but it’s all for a good cause.”
“I noticed that you’re having a fundraiser for your birthday?” Jensen asked. “Was that her idea or yours?”
“Hers, but I knew the party would guarantee the tightwads’ appearances so I gave her my blessing.”
“Big three-o, congratulations.”
“Not so hard considering my lifestyle,” Jared said in a cynical tone.
“But I’m told you reached your thirty minus the usual visits to detox centers, a flashy marriage, even flashier divorce and few brushes with the law that sons of billionaires seem destined to go through.”
Jared threw back his head and laughed. It was loud and long, garnishing curious looks from other guests.
“Are you always so honest?” Jared asked.
“Saves me a lot of grief down the line. Keeping track of lies is next to impossible for me. My work demands all my attention, and my friends can smell bullshit from a mile away.”
“I heard about your job in Angola. Sounds damn dangerous.”
“But fulfilling,” Jensen said in a firm voice. “And as soon as I’m healthy enough I’m going back.”
“You can’t be serious,” Jared said, not bothering to hide his shock. “It’s not a war zone anymore. It’s a graveyard over there.”
“And yet we see videos of the living every day on CNN,” Jensen quipped. “They’re my friends, Jared. And some of them I knew since I graduated from college. I don’t abandon people I care about. I’m going back.”
Jared stared at Jensen with genuine puzzlement. What kind of work was worth dying for? Yeah, helping the sick and the weak was great if one thought about earning brownie points before ending up in front of Saint Peter’s Gate, but Angola was hell on earth and Jensen couldn’t honestly think that he’d make it alive for more than few hours if he returned to his old job.
As if sensing Jared’s puzzlement, Jensen said, “It’s not out of sense of obligation or the need to die young. I really love my work, Jared. And I’m the kind of person who needs a job he can thrive on. So, it’s for purely selfish reasons, and I’m being honest here.”
“If you put it that way,” Jared drawled. “But something tells me your family won’t be happy with your decision.”
“They’re good Christians. They’ll understand and accept.” Jensen said then saw the bemused look on Jared’s face. “What?”
“You really are different. No wonder mom invited you to this party.”
“What kind of friends do you have exactly?”
Jared grinned. “My best buddy is Chad. He was engaged to a minor who couldn’t bring him to her prom because of their age difference … and there was a little problem with the law but nothing that couldn’t be ironed out with some political pressure from his dad. He did the stint in rehab, the flashy marriage and the flashier divorce. And had few minor brushes with the law.
“He could be a bit of a douche but he’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met. We’ve been friends since Duke. My mother could tell you some hair-raising stories about us during our college days.”
Jensen smiled. “Sounds like an interesting guy. Is he here?”
“No, he’s in Monaco, I think. Maybe Greece now? He’s got this sweet yacht and,” Jared suddenly stopped, realizing he was rambling about something 99.95% of the human population wouldn't know about. “Well, you know the drill.”
“Only what I’ve seen on television,” Jensen dryly replied. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Jared scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “Sorry, I kinda forget my manners sometimes. But, remember, my mom warned you!”
Jensen’s smile grew and for a moment Jared was breathless. Now that he was face to face with the guy he noticed Jensen’s beauty wasn’t the plastic Hollywood-silicon type. No, this was Nature at her finest and she did a damn good job. Jared thought there would be more than few guys who would go under the knife in order to look like Jensen Ackles, and yet Jensen Ackles would be horrified to hear of such a thing. In fact, Jared bet that if he had access to Jensen’s toiletry kit, he’d find generic shampoo, a small bottle of hair styling gel, and maybe a decent-sized bottle of moisturizer because African heat’s a bitch on the skin.
“Jared, you okay there?”
“Yeah, just wondering about something.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
And wasn’t that a loaded question. Jared shook his head and said, “Why don’t we go find your date before some momma tries to steal him from you.”
“Oh, I doubt that’ll happen any time soon.”
Jared ignored the bite of jealousy when he heard Jensen’s breezy answer. If anything he’d hoped that some matchmaking momma did drag away Tom Welling, preferably to Massachusetts or Croatia, even. To his dismay Tom was still with Megan, keeping a polite distance from the rest of the partying herd by hiding in one of the small balconies overlooking the garden.
“There you are,” Jensen said.
“Megan’s been entertaining me with stories about the pranks she and her brothers pulled on half of San Antonio’s population.”
“Lies, all lies. She has no proof,” Jared said airily and kissed Megan on the top of her head. “Enjoying the party, sweetie?”
“I most certainly am, Sasquatch!”
Tom laughed at Megan’s pet name for her brother. He handed Jensen a cocktail and said, “I saw Mrs. Devereaux few minutes ago.”
Jensen turned to his date. “Really? How is she?”
“She looks good. Want to talk to her?”
Jensen nodded eagerly. He turned to Jared and Megan and said, “Excuse us. And thanks for the invitation. This really is a great party.”
Jared watched Jensen walk away, his gait matching Tom’s perfectly. He couldn’t stop himself from sighing.
“He’s not gay,” Megan said pointedly.
Jared turned to his sister. “Excuse me?”
“Tom Welling. The guy’s not gay.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I can tell these things, Jared, and I’m telling you he’s not gay. Jensen is, or at least he’s bi, but Tom’s straight.”
“But he’s Jensen’s date.”
“That doesn’t make him gay, Jared.”
“It kinds does, actually.”
“No, you idiot, it doesn’t. I don’t know what’s up with them but I am telling you Tom’s not gay, and he sure as hell isn’t tapping that fine ass. So, if you’re interested in Hot Ass Ackles, I suggest you make your move, because you’re not the only guy who’s interested.”
Jared immediately began studying the partygoers and sure enough, Megan was right. As Jensen walked further into the crowd more than few heads turned to his direction. Maybe some of them were interested in Tom, but Jared had the sinking feeling that Jensen Ackles’ fan club was rapidly growing.
“Well, shit.”
“Oh, and here’s Jensen’s number,” Megan said, handing him a cocktail napkin.
“You're amazing, you know that?”
“I didn’t get you anything for your birthday so this was the least I could do.”
Jared laughed heartily and gave another resounding kiss on Megan’s head. “I have the best little sister in the world.”
Megan’s answer was a big smile and a tight hug. Jared took advantage of the embrace and swung his sister around and onto the dance floor. He laughed when Megan made a squeaky noise of surprise as they began swaying to some famous tune from days of yore.
Part II * Part IV
A/N: I've made all the characters older but managed to keep their age difference. That way it's not totally insane when Jared steps into his father's shoes in 2002 at the tender age of thirty-two.
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for violence
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own these people. Slavery is outlawed. To the dismay of some, I suspect.
WARNINGS: My first RPF. If this is anywhere near the truth, I'm from the Gamma Quadrant.
Summary: Jared Padalecki lost his husband, Jensen Ackles, through neglect. Then the real nightmare begins when a group kidnaps Jensen and ransoms him for fifteen million dollars. The problem isn't paying the money: it's getting Jensen back alive and in one piece.
Title Page
Day Two, Part Two
Ian Jackson waited patiently as his boss debriefed Vladovic. As expected his superior wasn’t at all pleased with how things turned out.
“Bloody necklace?” Harlan said curtly. “I gave orders for a clean delivery.”
Jackson raised a placating hand. “Couldn’t be helped. Ackles was trained like you said, and his response time was good. He almost got away. Thought it’d be better to deliver the message with some blood than risk cleaning it up and leaving something behind.”
Harlan maintained his gaze at Vladovic the entire time Jackson spoke. After a moment he asked, “What about the girl?”
“They got her. I saw to that.” Jackson answered. “So, nine then?”
“As planned," Harlan answered. "Peter, make sure Will's got the computer ready. We can't afford any more fuck-ups."
Vladovic nodded hastily and left. Jackson opened a window and lit up a cigarette. He went through two before deciding it was safe to speak to his boss.
“You know Ackles, don’t you?”
Harlan didn’t even look surprised. “His extraction was my final mission. Goddamn son of a bitch nearly cost me my entire team.”
“So this is payback?” Jackson was stunned by the answer. Harlan was not the type to hold grudges.
“No, I actually like the man. He was half out of his mind with fever but it took two medics and myself to subdue him and get him on the boat. Got to admire that kind of loyalty.”
"Why him then?”
“Because he’s got one rich husband, or fuck buddy, or whatever you call it nowadays. And he’s smart. He won’t do anything stupid, not if it meant risking his daughter’s safety.”
“But is he the type to do something stupid if it’s just him?”
“Probably. Which is why we can’t lose control, not even a little bit.”
“That’s not going to be easy to do for forty-eight hours.”
“Probably not, but the money’s a guarantee, Jackson. If I was a faggot and rich like Padalecki, I’d pay anything to get Ackles back.”
“But fifteen million?”
“The man’s private net worth is four hundred million. And that’s last year’s estimate. If he can't then that fancy private insurance firm covering his ass will. Either way, we get what we need. Don’t worry about that.”
Vladovic gently placed the unconscious man on the pile of blankets. He remembered Harlan's orders not to harm or damage Ackles. He's screwed up once already. Vladovic knew there would be no second chances: a man like Harlan would make sure of that.
“I’m glad we didn’t take the girl,” Masterson said as he shoved the styrofoam cooler against the wall with his foot. “It’s bad juju to hurt children.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Vladovic gave a nod at the cooler. “Did you make sure?”
Masterson nodded. “It has enough food and water for two days, five if Ackles decides to go on a diet.”
“Then we’re set. Let’s get out of here.” Vladovic didn’t like the room. It reminded him too much of Russian prisons.
The two men left, not realizing their victim was awake and listening. Jensen waited for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time before moving. He sat up cautiously, fully expecting his head to spin. To his relief, it didn’t happen. Whatever was in the spray can it had to have been top quality because he didn’t have a headache or a dry mouth either. With studious care he stood up and examined the room.
There was no bed, just three blankets. Obviously the kidnappers knew that weapons could be fashioned out of bed coils. A sensor toilet was at the other end of the room with a single roll of toilet paper. Its seat was missing.
With some trepidation Jensen examined the door and realized it was the type used in restaurants for walk-in fridges. With a shudder he realized that was exactly where he was locked up in - a refrigerated room, maybe even a butcher’s. There was no easy escape from here, not unless one of his captors made a critical mistake.
Jensen realized he was slipping into hysteria and forced himself to calm down. Anna was safe. That gave him great comfort. He also knew he had enough food for five days, and that meant there was plenty of time for Jared to do whatever necessary to find him. Hell, with the way he was feeling he could probably stretch the supplies to seven or even ten.
Jensen spotted a book on top of the television. He gasped in shock. It was a tattered copy of Rand’s The Fountainhead.
How the hell do they know? Jensen thought, staring at the book with wide eyes. Did he mention Rand’s masterpiece in one of his interviews?
Jensen cautiously took the book and opened it. The pages were practically falling out of the book but it was still readable. He knew he was being watched and guessed his captors wanted him preoccupied. He was more than willing to let them think that. But when the time came he was going to do whatever necessary to escape.
Jensen knew Jared would pay the ransom. Considering how guilty Jared must feeling, he knew his husband would pay without hesitation. But Jensen also knew that a paid ransom wouldn't guarantee his freedom. They might just leave him locked in here to slowly starve to death, or even worse, suffocate if they turned off the ventilation system.
He had long ago learned not to trust kindness of strangers. It was a bloody and painful lesson, one that would remain with him until the day he died.
Jensen had another reason for escaping. He had woken up when the men were depositing him into his room and heard someone call out the name ‘Harlan’. It took him a while to remember why the name sounded familiar. But when his memory finally did come back, it did so with vengeance.
He remembered the soldier from the Angola nightmare. Hard to forget a man who looked like the human personification of Ares. Tall, strong, angular face topped with short, curly black hair, he possessed a stance that a bull couldn’t shake. Jensen also remembered the vicious right hook the man gave him when he began struggling. Half delirious with fever and malnutrition, Jensen thought the hospice was going to burn down unless he was actually in the building.
By the time he woke up he was in a navy ship the size of New Jersey. Harlan visited him in sick bay the second day and they had an awkward if honest conversation. Jensen fully understood the lieutenant’s actions and told him he had no desire to press any charges. Harlan, in turn, listened to Jensen’s heartfelt speech about why he had placed himself in such precarious position in Angola. Jensen didn’t suffer from a martyr’s complex. The truth was there was so much shit to do in the refugee camps and he was one of the few who qualified for the work. And as the years passed, he actually fell in love with his job and the people he worked for. Not many people could honestly make that claim and Jensen knew it, which was the main reason for his violent behavior with Harlan and his men.
They accepted each other’s apology and went their separate ways. Or so Jensen thought. He wanted to believe the Spartan lieutenant was in no way involved in this mess, but he wasn’t going to gamble his life and his family’s welfare on such useless hopes. He spent nearly fourteen years in Africa, working at various refugee camps and medical centers. And during that time he had faced warlords, slave traders, psychotic killers, spree killers, mass murderers, child rapists and other sick fucks who would have gladly cut his throat for ten dollars or less. So, if the kidnappers thought they were dealing with some lily-bellied dumbfuck then that would be their miscalculation: one that he was hell-bent on fully exploiting.
So, he quietly read Rand’s book until the television suddenly came on. He winced at the program and wondered why the hell he was being forced to watch Disney’s Christmas Parade. Then he realized it was probably because they needed to prove he was alive. Jensen decided to make a small meal in the hopes that if Jared were watching he would see that Jensen was alive and well.
Whatever happens, take care of Anna. She’s the best part of me, Jared. Remember that, Jensen thought as he forced himself to eat.
Jared knew he was being twitchy but couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. The brief glimpse of Jensen had wrung all his self-control and the collapse that happened in the aftermath had drained him. Jeff stood by calmly, letting him cry until there were no tears left.
“I can’t face Anna right now,” Jared said hoarsely.
“I’ll talk with Justin,” Chris said and left the room.
Jared wiped his face with his hands and looked at Jeff. “Now what happens?”
“They know we saw the broadcast. It’s their move now," Jeff answered. "And he looks good. If Jensen was injured it couldn't have been too serious."
Jared nodded in agreement, his face still buried in his hands.
Jeff’s cell rang and he answered it quickly. “Morgan.”
“Hey there, buddy,” Kripke said. “I just got through shuffling the call and the web broadcast.”
“Anything?”
“Nada, the bastards piggy-backed through several servers. Damn fuckers know what they’re doing, that’s for sure.”
“Where did the signal falsely originate from?”
“I tracked it to Hungary. Why are you asking?”
“Even if it’s false, there may be a reason why the kidnappers chose the location. Any chance you could get more?”
“I’m working on it right now. Thought you might want an update.”
“Thanks.”
Jared looked at him with bleak eyes. “They can’t trace anything, can they?”
“Not yet, but Kripke is a fucking genius so I wouldn’t throw in the towel yet.”
Chris rejoined them with Steve looking flushed and excited.
“So you got something?” Jeff said.
“You’re going to love this,” Steve answered and dumped several folders on Jared’s desk. Jeff took the thickest one and began reading.
“What the hell,” he whispered after he finished.
“No kidding,” Steve said. “All the other heists are just the same. Has to be the same gang.”
“Care to fill in the rest of the class?” Chris drawled.
Steve looked at his friend then at Jared who watched them owlishly. “Around March, a gang of professional thieves began hitting banks, emptying out safety deposit boxes. Get this, their last heist was in Torino, Italy.”
“Their last heist?” Jared echoed.
“Their luck ran out. They were coming out of a bank when they met up with a squad of police cars returning from a protest. The getaway driver, one Sophia Mazzanti, got caught. Because the robberies were so high profile she got the royal treatment. It took less than a day for her to crack.
“She told the interrogators that the men needed approximately twenty million dollars to make a drug transaction. They managed to steal 8.2 million dollars before Torino.”
“So they got less than half the money they needed,” Jeff said. “That’s real bad for them. Did she say anything else?”
“Just that the mastermind’s an ex-military guy and plenty scary. She never met the man but her boyfriend works for the group and he was convinced the guy was a high-ranking officer. It’s only a guess since we have no corroboration.”
“How can we get access to Mazzanti?” Chris asked.
“We can’t. She was being transferred to a more secure location when her car exploded. The body count included her, the two detectives with her, the driver, and two pedestrians who were unfortunate enough to be caught in the blast.”
“Jesus,” Jared said, his face turning ashen. “They killed five people just to get her?”
Jeff heard the panic in Jared’s voice and said, “Professionals, Mr. Padalecki, which is a good thing for us. Remember that.”
“The SS were considered professionals!” Jared stormed at Jeff. “But something tells me you wouldn’t be so happy to negotiate with the fuckers!”
“Of course not. I can’t speak German,” Jeff quipped.
Jared gaped at the man before slumping into a chair, laughing thinly. “You are a strange man, Jeff Morgan.”
“Oh, I could’ve told you that,” Steve said with a crooked smile.
“Sorry for yelling,” Jared said.
“Not a problem. I was expecting it for a while now,” Jeff answered kindly. He saw a photograph on the mantelpiece and picked it up. He needed to distract Padalecki right now. Otherwise, the man would shatter permanently and become useless. “Nice, is this an anniversary picture?”
Jared saw the photo and shook his head. “No, actually, that was taken the first day we met.”
“Really?” Chris said, taking the picture from Jeff. “You guys look like old friends.”
“It was my thirtieth birthday and my momma threw the biggest party in the history of San Antonio. Jensen was invited so he brought a date who wasn't me.”
“Something tells me the guy went home disappointed,” Jeff said.
“No, not really. The date was Tom Welling.”
“Tom … he’s a friend of the family, isn’t he?” Jeff asked.
Jared nodded, “And he’s straight. Jensen roped him into coming with him because he was afraid of being mugged by all the Texas mothers who’ll be attending with their single daughters.”
“He wasn’t out then?” Chris asked.
“He was. But you have to understand, homosexuality is an obstacle course as far as Texas mothers are concerned. If Jensen had shown up by himself he would’ve been cornered in five minutes flat. With Tom in tow, he was guaranteed some breathing space.”
“No kidding, the guy’s almost big as you,” Jeff said, remembering the pictures he’d seen of Welling.
“He’s a good man, through and through. Didn’t tell anyone he was just there for show. Didn’t care if people thought he was gay either. Jensen was his friend and his friend needed help, and that was enough for Tom.”
“No wonder he’s still your friend,” Steve said.
“What happens now?” Jared asked.
“Now we wait for the ransom demand,” Jeff answered.
“If it’s just about money…” Jared said slowly.
“We play it by ear, but if we think Jensen will be released, then we pay it.”
“What about the FBI?” Jared asked and noticed Steve and Chris trading looks.
“That’s your call, Mr. Padalecki,” Jeff said. “I cannot tell you what to do about bringing in the authorities.”
“Like we discussed before: If they are pros, and they find out about the Feds they’ll cut their losses and run. Mazzanti's murder is a proof of that.”
“If it’s the same gang, yes, that’s would be my conclusion.” Jeff answered.
“Then no FBI. Not yet,” Jared said breathlessly.
Jeff didn’t say anything but the tension in the room immediately dialed down several notches.
July 19, 2000
“God loves me,” Megan said with a blissful smile.
Jared stopped eating the lobster cocktail and turned to his sister. Megan wasn’t a big mystery like the rest of her gender, but there were moments when her outbursts worried him.
“And this revelation came on my birthday how?” Jared grinned as Megan rolled her eyes.
"The guy that just entered the room, dumbass.”
Jared saw the stranger and had to admit, yeah, God loved somebody when he made that tall drink of water. Black hair, striking blue eyes, and a body that Jared would envy, and he worked out religiously five times a week.
“Well, here’s your chance to make momma’s dream come true,” Jared said, nudging his sister.
“It is, isn’t it?” Megan brightened considerably. “Can you imagine me meeting my future husband at your stupid birthday party?”
“Hey now, don’t be talking smack about the party where your dream hunk made his appear…”
“God hates me,” Megan interrupted with another dramatic sigh.
This time Jared knew to look at the doorway. He spotted another man joining Megan’s future fiancé and had to agree. God hated not only Megan but him also, ‘cause the tall drink of water’s date was a man whose beauty could stop satellites from spinning their orbits.
“Jesus, are those lips real?” Megan said after a thorough perusal. “And how is it fair that his eyelashes are thicker than mine? And I’m wearing mascara!”
“Maybe he’s wearing mascara,” Jared said lamely.
“Nuh-uh, those are totally natural. Ooohhh, there goes mom! And look at her go!”
Jared chuckled at Megan’s observation as he watched Professor Sharon Padalecki cut off the other mothers before they swarmed around the two men and do ungodly things to them. Like trying to convince them heterosexuality was worth a shot, for God and Country if nothing else.
The Satellite Killer seemed genuinely glad to see his mom and gave her proper kiss on the cheek. The two chatted for few minutes before she spotted her two children. With determined look she ushered the guests towards Jared and Megan.
“Ah shit, this is going to be so depressing.” Megan hissed and dusted off imaginary crumbs from her dress.
Jared did the same with his suit but in his case, the crumbs weren’t so imaginary.
“These are my two youngest, Jared and Megan. This is Jensen Ackles and his date, Tom Welling,” Sharon said with caged eagerness.
Megan looked at the shorter man, “You’re Jensen Ackles?”
“Yes, I am,” Jensen replied with a puzzled smile. “Why is that a surprise?”
“No, it’s just that with all your work, I expected someone … older.” Megan finished lamely.
Jared rolled his eyes, “She means someone much less attractive.”
Megan gave him an evil eye but kept her mouth shut.
“Their conversational skills need a little polishing,” Sharon said dryly. “It’s the food. They eat more than they should and all the blood rushes from their heads to their stomachs. It’s in the Padalecki genes I’m afraid.”
Jensen managed to control his laughter but his date was not so successful. Tom turned to Jensen and said, “I’ll get us something to drink. Excuse me.”
“Why don’t I join you?” Megan said with a winning smile.
Before Tom could accept or refuse she linked her arm with his and practically dragged him to the bar. With selfish glee Jared studied Jensen while his date being stolen right in front of him.
"What do you think of the party?" Sharon asked.
"It's definitely going down in San Antonio's history as the party to beat. I heard the catering company was flown in from Las Vegas?"
“I have to make sure my guests are well fed and in no condition to drive,” Sharon said with a cheerful smile. “That way I’m guaranteed to raise the money necessary for the new hospital.”
“You have an open bar?” Jensen asked with admiration in his eyes.
“Of course, how else could you squeeze money from some of these tightwads? By the way, do you mind?" Sharon suddenly produced a camera and smiled charmingly. Jared didn't hesitate: he threw his arm around Jensen's shoulder and pulled him close. Sharon snapped a picture and said, "Jared, entertain our guest and please behave. The last one’s still thinking about filing a civil suit against you.”
Jared looked at his mother with love and exasperation as Sharon glided away.
“She’s awesome,” Jensen said. “You're so damn lucky.”
“I am,” Jared admitted with a sheepish grin. “She gets a bit much but it’s all for a good cause.”
“I noticed that you’re having a fundraiser for your birthday?” Jensen asked. “Was that her idea or yours?”
“Hers, but I knew the party would guarantee the tightwads’ appearances so I gave her my blessing.”
“Big three-o, congratulations.”
“Not so hard considering my lifestyle,” Jared said in a cynical tone.
“But I’m told you reached your thirty minus the usual visits to detox centers, a flashy marriage, even flashier divorce and few brushes with the law that sons of billionaires seem destined to go through.”
Jared threw back his head and laughed. It was loud and long, garnishing curious looks from other guests.
“Are you always so honest?” Jared asked.
“Saves me a lot of grief down the line. Keeping track of lies is next to impossible for me. My work demands all my attention, and my friends can smell bullshit from a mile away.”
“I heard about your job in Angola. Sounds damn dangerous.”
“But fulfilling,” Jensen said in a firm voice. “And as soon as I’m healthy enough I’m going back.”
“You can’t be serious,” Jared said, not bothering to hide his shock. “It’s not a war zone anymore. It’s a graveyard over there.”
“And yet we see videos of the living every day on CNN,” Jensen quipped. “They’re my friends, Jared. And some of them I knew since I graduated from college. I don’t abandon people I care about. I’m going back.”
Jared stared at Jensen with genuine puzzlement. What kind of work was worth dying for? Yeah, helping the sick and the weak was great if one thought about earning brownie points before ending up in front of Saint Peter’s Gate, but Angola was hell on earth and Jensen couldn’t honestly think that he’d make it alive for more than few hours if he returned to his old job.
As if sensing Jared’s puzzlement, Jensen said, “It’s not out of sense of obligation or the need to die young. I really love my work, Jared. And I’m the kind of person who needs a job he can thrive on. So, it’s for purely selfish reasons, and I’m being honest here.”
“If you put it that way,” Jared drawled. “But something tells me your family won’t be happy with your decision.”
“They’re good Christians. They’ll understand and accept.” Jensen said then saw the bemused look on Jared’s face. “What?”
“You really are different. No wonder mom invited you to this party.”
“What kind of friends do you have exactly?”
Jared grinned. “My best buddy is Chad. He was engaged to a minor who couldn’t bring him to her prom because of their age difference … and there was a little problem with the law but nothing that couldn’t be ironed out with some political pressure from his dad. He did the stint in rehab, the flashy marriage and the flashier divorce. And had few minor brushes with the law.
“He could be a bit of a douche but he’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met. We’ve been friends since Duke. My mother could tell you some hair-raising stories about us during our college days.”
Jensen smiled. “Sounds like an interesting guy. Is he here?”
“No, he’s in Monaco, I think. Maybe Greece now? He’s got this sweet yacht and,” Jared suddenly stopped, realizing he was rambling about something 99.95% of the human population wouldn't know about. “Well, you know the drill.”
“Only what I’ve seen on television,” Jensen dryly replied. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Jared scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “Sorry, I kinda forget my manners sometimes. But, remember, my mom warned you!”
Jensen’s smile grew and for a moment Jared was breathless. Now that he was face to face with the guy he noticed Jensen’s beauty wasn’t the plastic Hollywood-silicon type. No, this was Nature at her finest and she did a damn good job. Jared thought there would be more than few guys who would go under the knife in order to look like Jensen Ackles, and yet Jensen Ackles would be horrified to hear of such a thing. In fact, Jared bet that if he had access to Jensen’s toiletry kit, he’d find generic shampoo, a small bottle of hair styling gel, and maybe a decent-sized bottle of moisturizer because African heat’s a bitch on the skin.
“Jared, you okay there?”
“Yeah, just wondering about something.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
And wasn’t that a loaded question. Jared shook his head and said, “Why don’t we go find your date before some momma tries to steal him from you.”
“Oh, I doubt that’ll happen any time soon.”
Jared ignored the bite of jealousy when he heard Jensen’s breezy answer. If anything he’d hoped that some matchmaking momma did drag away Tom Welling, preferably to Massachusetts or Croatia, even. To his dismay Tom was still with Megan, keeping a polite distance from the rest of the partying herd by hiding in one of the small balconies overlooking the garden.
“There you are,” Jensen said.
“Megan’s been entertaining me with stories about the pranks she and her brothers pulled on half of San Antonio’s population.”
“Lies, all lies. She has no proof,” Jared said airily and kissed Megan on the top of her head. “Enjoying the party, sweetie?”
“I most certainly am, Sasquatch!”
Tom laughed at Megan’s pet name for her brother. He handed Jensen a cocktail and said, “I saw Mrs. Devereaux few minutes ago.”
Jensen turned to his date. “Really? How is she?”
“She looks good. Want to talk to her?”
Jensen nodded eagerly. He turned to Jared and Megan and said, “Excuse us. And thanks for the invitation. This really is a great party.”
Jared watched Jensen walk away, his gait matching Tom’s perfectly. He couldn’t stop himself from sighing.
“He’s not gay,” Megan said pointedly.
Jared turned to his sister. “Excuse me?”
“Tom Welling. The guy’s not gay.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I can tell these things, Jared, and I’m telling you he’s not gay. Jensen is, or at least he’s bi, but Tom’s straight.”
“But he’s Jensen’s date.”
“That doesn’t make him gay, Jared.”
“It kinds does, actually.”
“No, you idiot, it doesn’t. I don’t know what’s up with them but I am telling you Tom’s not gay, and he sure as hell isn’t tapping that fine ass. So, if you’re interested in Hot Ass Ackles, I suggest you make your move, because you’re not the only guy who’s interested.”
Jared immediately began studying the partygoers and sure enough, Megan was right. As Jensen walked further into the crowd more than few heads turned to his direction. Maybe some of them were interested in Tom, but Jared had the sinking feeling that Jensen Ackles’ fan club was rapidly growing.
“Well, shit.”
“Oh, and here’s Jensen’s number,” Megan said, handing him a cocktail napkin.
“You're amazing, you know that?”
“I didn’t get you anything for your birthday so this was the least I could do.”
Jared laughed heartily and gave another resounding kiss on Megan’s head. “I have the best little sister in the world.”
Megan’s answer was a big smile and a tight hug. Jared took advantage of the embrace and swung his sister around and onto the dance floor. He laughed when Megan made a squeaky noise of surprise as they began swaying to some famous tune from days of yore.
Part II * Part IV
A/N: I've made all the characters older but managed to keep their age difference. That way it's not totally insane when Jared steps into his father's shoes in 2002 at the tender age of thirty-two.