Mandatory Refusal 3B/3+
Author: insane_songbird
Pairing: J2
Rating: R
Words: ~3.500
Warnings: Violence, Language, maybe a little sexual innuendo (or a little more), blood, minor character death, Agent!Jared, Agent!Jensen
Disclaimer: Slavery is bad... I do not own other human beings and I don’t think special agents would work for a TV show. That would be bad for their undercover thingy.
The title is actually a La Femme Nikita episode on which this fic and it’s setting is based to a certain degree, knowledge of the show is completely not necessary though. I just took it’s feeling.
Summary: Jared and Jensen are not in a relationship. People like them don’t do relationships, especially not with colleagues. As operative Jensen Ackles is forced to finish a job he started all by himself out of the fear of being sold out by an unknown traitor the only person who is on his side as things change is his fellow agent, Jared. As a manhunt for the good guy ensues can Jared make Jensen see reason and stop him from going through with long overrun orders or does Jensen’s inability to trust anyone get him killed?
Betaed by mangacat201 and candygramme . Guys, you're amazing.
All Parts
Previous Part (A)
Jensen circled the main house, looking for a way to bypass security. He had managed to cover a lot of ground in the large garden undetected, but it had been slow progress as he'd had to stop every few yards to readjust his route in order to avoid detection. He had hoped that getting onto the grounds of the mansion unseen would trump his heavily armed colleagues. Leaving them out of the picture was his initial plan. But that seemed to get harder with every passing minute as Jensen had discovered that he was by far not the first intruder.
Jared hated the fact that Jensen nursed the heavy paranoia that came with this job. The younger man used to roll his eyes when Jensen had to size up a room and familiarize himself with all the exits and entryways before settling down in some corner - preferably with his back to a thick wall - even if they were just grabbing a cup of coffee on a day off. It might have been a good way to annoy Jared profoundly, but on the job that paranoia really came in handy. Tonight it was probably the only thing that had stood between Jensen and a bullet out of Tom’s three foot long automatic rifle.
Jensen had spotted the tall man hidden in the brush obscuring the south west wall of the main building. He was crouched low and was hard to see if one didn’t know what to look for. Jensen knew though, and he had seen the signs just in time to avoid giving himself away and being shot by the man he was used to teasing so wholeheartedly.
Tom had a close eye on the house’s back entrance and windows. The front of the building was covered by tight security, and Jensen knew that his only way inside was through Tom’s zone. Jensen edged around the building keeping in the shadows of the rich growth of greenery, treading slowly, his feet a mere whisper on the soft grass. He had to take Tom out, before he could proceed any further, and he knew he had to do it by hand, because the body armor and helmet the dark haired man was wearing made a safe kill with one of his silenced guns too risky a task.
It took him a few minutes of light,soundless breaths and ridiculously careful moves to get into the right position. Avoiding discovery by the security system and the secret agent at once was something that made Jensen wish he could gnash his teeth in frustration - but he was rather sure that would be heard, and, honestly, didn’t that just suck?
Finally he stood only an arm's length behind the operative who was crouching between the house’s outer wall and a huge leafy bush, with one shoulder leaning against the building, gun held in both hands resting on one knee. Someone who had never held a weapon would be surprised even by the weight of a simple handgun. The assault rifles operatives were equipped with for this kind of thing weighed a lot more still and holding up the extra pounds of iron and lead over a longer period of time was a strain even with training.
Those heavy rifles held quite a lot of firepower, but the biggest boom in the world couldn’t make the reactions of a soldier any faster when his arms had to hold several times the weight of a pistol. This was Jensen’s advantage. Tom might have the bigger bullets, but his gun was huge, heavy and turning around with it efficiently while stuck between concrete and branches was a near impossibility.
Jensen closed the space between him and Tom, leaning down on him as his arms snaked around the man’s body. His left clamped down over the guy’s face muting any sounds of distress and cutting off his breathing rather effectively by covering his mouth and nose with an unyielding grip, while his right hand darted out to grab Tom’s hand and bend the wrist at a rather unnatural angle, effectively pulling his finger away from the trigger. With a sickening, snapping sound he made sure that it would not be able to get back on. Tom twisted beneath his hold, muffled sounds trapped in his throat, feet shuffling through the soft, damp ground, kicking away the gun in their frenzy.
Jensen brought his right arm around Tom’s neck and pressed down as the agent brought up his uninjured hand to try and pry Jensen’s arms away from his neck and mouth. His gloved fingers bluntly scratched across Jensen's sleeve in futile attempts to break free. It wasn’t long before Tom’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he went limp in Jensen’s hold.
“Well, let’s strip you down, honey.” Jensen couldn’t resist pinching Tom’s ass before getting out his knife, regretting that Tom could not fret about being harassed.
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Crouching was one of those things Jared hated about his job. He knew he was a goddamn giant, and mostly he enjoyed that to its fullest. Towering over people was fun. You saw a lot and didn’t get the smelly waft of passers by half as much as those poor dwarfs who hardly ever managed to find someone eye to eye, but who mostly faced normal people’s armpits… and honestly that would stink. Being tall was a great thing. Jared could carry around anyyone and everything without breaking a sweat, and he had annoyed Jensen with his playful puppy ways quite a few times, when he'd felt compelled to pick the other man up off the ground. Jensen hated it. At least he claimed he did. But Jared had his own theories about that.
As huge as Jared was, he'd never had problems intimidating other people if he needed to. He was normally an easy going person with a big smile and a lot of patience. But in his profession it was necessary to hold your own at times, and having a few inches - sometimes even a foot or more - on practically every other person in the world made it easy to stay out of most fist fights. Once someone was faced by a pissed off Jared, reared up to his full height and squaring his well muscled shoulders, they usually did not feel the need to provoke him. Of course this was one more reason to watch his back, because cowardice was a regular companion for fear. Dying in a fair fight or by a bullet to the back of his head would make no difference as far as he was concerned.
But the same height that gave him quite the advantage in a fight was a curse when he had to sneak through the over-sized gardens of some terrorist’s mansion. Hence the crouching part. As mentioned Jared hated crouching. It just didn’t come naturally to him with his big frame. After slithering across the lawn and towards the location Mike had provided him with, Jared could feel his vertebrae crunching alarmingly against each other while he tried to keep his discs from popping out. His back was as round as that of an angry cat, and he kept his head low to avoid the annoyingly frequent, but inefficiently scattered cameras. If he ever got to stand up straight again his back would probably crack so loudly that the cameras would be unnecessary for finding him anyway.
Jared had checked out half the buildings of the side-complex Mike had highlighted as the most logical location of his prize. So far he had found nothing, and his nerves were strained.
As he sneaked up to the next building, staying in the shadows of a huge oak tree, he had to bite his lip to keep from whooping with relief and excitement. This had to be it. He crept closer to the window that displayed the reason for his joy. It was located at earth level, the window pane only a small sliver of light on the dark grass of the garden. The room beyond the glass was a basement, with at least two thirds of the rooms height located below the surface of the garden. It was illuminated by a few scarce desk lamps, but most of the light appeared to emit from several big plasma screens filled with an array of numbers and letters that displayed a language Jared knew he probably would never learn although Mike was a native speaker. It was hacker’s Latin, and to Jared, Latin was a dead language. He knew how to use programs and computer-protocols just fine, but he wouldn’t dream of actually ever writing one.
This had to be it. He lowered himself to the ground, careful not to make any of his moves visible to the people inside and keeping out of the light that fell on the grass in front of him. He peered inside, and a wide grin spread over his face. Yes, there it was. Jared knew exactly what the hardware that he was trying to retrieve looked like. They were state of the art. Actually Jared remembered Mike telling him with sparkling eyes that the components they used were about an average nine months ahead of everything Joe Blow would ever even hear of. Besides, Jared had handled some of those hard-drives himself on occasion - when they needed to trade information with other agencies. Jared being an “official CIA-agent” came in handy for the credibility of their asset.
Jared made haste in finding the entrance and picking the lock after disabling the alarm system. His steps were muffled, and he quickly thanked the interior designer for the thick, plushy carpet. He crept towards the door that obviously led to the basement rooms. He quickly found that it was not exactly a task for a spy as a sliver of light shone through a gap beneath the door, and muffled swearing could be heard through the thin wood. Looking through the window earlier, Jared had seen that the room was occupied by three people.
One was an elderly man with geekish glasses and receding hair hammering down on a keyboard with quite a vengeance. The second had been a busty girl, who looked like she belonged at a college party, rather than in some shady terrorist’s basement. She was also working on a computer. The last person was a guard, an automatic slung across his shoulder, sitting against the far wall, eying the door and window while the others worked. He obviously wasn’t very good in his job.
Jared took a moment to listen to the conversation behind the door. To his satisfaction they were obviously annoyed at not getting past the self-destruct program on the stolen hardware and dared not go any faster for fear of activating it. Good. The girl had a pretty foul mouth from what he could hear, and the older guy was just worried about not getting paid if they failed. Money. Wasn’t it always about money? Jared pulled out two of his guns and positioned himself at one side or the door, crouching to the level of the doorknob before twisting it and shoving the door open.
“Who’s there?” That had to be the guard. In one swift move Jared darted from one side if the door to the other, staying low while shooting a rain of bullets into the room. He rolled smoothly back to his feet on the other side, mentally counting the number of bullets he had spent. The guard’s answering shots during the attack had - as expected - torn through the air and the drywalls above Jared. The man had aimed for regular chest height, not realizing that Jared would come in low.
Jared knew he had hit the man, he was certain of it. If it was a lethal shot, he couldn’t say though. He got to his feet fast, not giving them time to recover or call help and turned the corner, staying pressed to the door frame keeping his back turned to the side to minimize his body as a target. Gun first, he slid into the room and saw the guard motionless on the floor, blood oozing from several places where the bullets had torn into his body. The girl lay a few feet away, her wound no longer bleeding. Jared’s concern lay with the person still on his feet. The older hacker did not feel like bargaining for his life but dove for the automatic that had fallen from the injured guard’s hand. One more shot sounded, and Jared stood alone in the room with a handful of bodies. Why did people have to be so stupid?
He retrieved the hard-drive and checked that he'd got the real thing before switching on his communications system. “This is Padalecki. I got the missing hard drive. Call off the dogs.”
Chad’s stunned voice answered. “What the fuck are you talking about, Jared?”
Jared didn’t eve flinch when he lied. “I checked out the anomalies you sent me. Stumbled across a couple of hackers trying to breach the self-destruct mechanism. I took my chance.”
There was a long moment of silence, and Jared started to get impatient. He could draw them a map later. Now he needed to hear the order to stop hunting for Jensen. For all he knew it might already be too late.
“Containment?” Jared frowned. He was pretty sure that the voice he heard was that of Jeffrey Dean Morgan himself. No wonder the silence had taken forever if they'd called through to the boss himself.
“One hundred percent. They didn’t breach it yet, the hackers are dead, and I have the hard-drive.” He hoped Morgan bought it, and didn’t expect him to bring everything in for confirmation first.
“Destroy it. Activate the self destruction program and incinerate the site.”
“Yes sir.” He wanted to ask about the manhunt for Jensen, but he didn’t have to, because the channel went back to Chad, who stared barking orders again.
“All teams hold. We have new orders. The stolen asset has been retrieved. Stand down. Ackles is off limits. Let the man finish his job.” Jared heaved a sigh.
Thank God. Now all he had to do was clear up this mess. He erased the hard drive and pulled a two compound explosive charge from a side pocket of his pants. This would make a nice display of fireworks.
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The guards were dead, before they could fire a single shot. Jensen dropped the empty gun keeping the second one level with his target and pulled out one of his spare pistols.
“You’re a hard man to kill.” Jensen clicked of the safety off newly retrieved semi-automatic, letting the metallic sound linger in the air for show rather than anything else.
The man who stood across the room surrounded by the bodies of his bodyguards set his jaw, the muscles in his cheeks and temples working furiously. His eyes were hard but nervous, darting left and right as he looked for a way out. There was none. His hands were raised to his chest.
“You really don’t want to kill me, son.”
Jensen raised a skeptical eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. “Really? I thought that’s what this whole fuss was about. You’ve made this job really annoying.”
“Yes. But you are better than the people you work for, it seems. If you wanted to kill me you would have done it by now. I have valuable information for you and your people.”
Jensen smiled at him, seeing a glint of fear in his opponent's eyes. “No. I just wanted you to know what a pain in the ass you were, before I killed you. I know enough. Your little courier sang like a hummingbird by the time I was done with her.”
He saw the face of the man fall in shock as his last bargaining chip was lost. “You don’t know everything.”
“I don’t have to. I bet your mole knows enough. How did you make her switch sides, huh? Money? Values… no wait. She has no values.” Jensen enjoyed the look of horror on the face that was staring at him. The man didn’t know that Jensen did not know the moles identity, and Jensen would bet his guns that the guy was going to slip up in the next five minutes and blurt out the name.
“What are you…”
“Really, I have to tell you that you chose her well.” Jensen didn’t let him finish but just talked on. He’d have him where he wanted him soon enough. “I mean I would never have suspected. It must have been easy for her to get whatever you asked of her. As pretty as she is, there is no door she couldn’t get through. She really knows how to wrap men around her fingers.”
He shook his head, giving the man a scrutinizing look. “Did you fuck her? Because I did, and she does know some kinky tricks…”
A shot ripped through the air, followed by two more within the matter of a second. Jensen felt the bullets tear through his jacket followed by searing pain in his back, right between his shoulder blades, then across his spine, followed a stab over his left kidney. He fell to the floor with a cry of agony. His forehead slammed against the floor with a dull thud. But the pain that exploded in his skull was just a weak echo beside the torture in his back.
He didn’t know if he was unconscious for a moment but as his mind tried to work past the pain he heard footsteps close to his side.
“Goddamn you, you stupid bitch! You couldn’t have waited any LONGER could you?” The man’s voice was filled with anger rather than the uncertainty it had held just a minute ago. Jensen had a hard time to keep himself from moaning in pain, but he lay still, his face to the floor and waited. The steps stopped and there was the shuffle of clothes as someone knelt down next to him and pulled the gun from his fingers. He let his hand fall to the floor limply keeping his breaths as shallow and slow as he could manage so the person wouldn’t notice he was still alive.
“Sorry, Mr. Lehne. There were some complications. I think our cooperation is over.” The pop of Jensen’s semi-automatic was strangely quiet after the loud bangs of the assault rifle. The dull thud of a body hitting the floor indicated Jensen’s job being officially completed. It appeared that the woman who had betrayed him was the one who would wrap up his work.
“Sandy.” Another man’s voice sounded from somewhere further away. Jensen would have recognized it everywhere.
There was the shuffle of feet and the rustling of clothes followed by two more shots and the sound of another body added to the pile of death that was already littering the room.
“Jensen.” The steps that approached him were fast and heavy, ending with the sound of knees hitting the floor hard. Hands touched his back, and Jensen couldn’t help but cry out in pain, finally opening his eyes once more to see Jared’s face slide in and out of focus as he turned his head sideways. “Oh god, Jensen.” Jared started to press his hands over the holes in Jensen’s jacket, making him groan in pain as he pushed against the painful injuries. Jared’s face changed, a deep frown appearing as he looked at his clean hands. There was no blood. Jensen chuckled and regretted it instantly, feeling his whole body hurt in response to the movement. “Jen? How’d you…?”
Jensen tried to sit up and hissed in pain as Jared pulled him upwards with a helping hand. “I kinda stole Tommy’s extra strong Kevlar vest. The rifle proof version.” When Jared pulled his jacket off and opened the straps of the vest, Jensen nearly fainted at all the movement over his bruises. He might not have been ripped to shreds by bullets, but, hell, that hurt! After the heavy blow to his kidney, he thought he might even pee blood for a while.
He swayed slightly while sitting up, trying not to hyperventilate from the pain.
Jensen looked at Jared, whose face was battling between fury and relief. As Jared’s fist collided with his jaw he fell backwards with a thud that pressed all air from his lungs and had him curling to the side from the pain that jolted through his already bruised back. “That was for hitting me, for not trusting me… and for scaring me half to death.” Jared’s voice held no anger any more, and he was already pulling Jensen back up. Jensen found himself leaning against Jared’s shoulder with an arm around his back to keep him from falling back over. “I’m so glad you’re o.k. Does it hurt much?”
Jensen wanted to slug him, but he couldn’t find the energy.
Epilogue
Pairing: J2
Rating: R
Words: ~3.500
Warnings: Violence, Language, maybe a little sexual innuendo (or a little more), blood, minor character death, Agent!Jared, Agent!Jensen
Disclaimer: Slavery is bad... I do not own other human beings and I don’t think special agents would work for a TV show. That would be bad for their undercover thingy.
The title is actually a La Femme Nikita episode on which this fic and it’s setting is based to a certain degree, knowledge of the show is completely not necessary though. I just took it’s feeling.
Summary: Jared and Jensen are not in a relationship. People like them don’t do relationships, especially not with colleagues. As operative Jensen Ackles is forced to finish a job he started all by himself out of the fear of being sold out by an unknown traitor the only person who is on his side as things change is his fellow agent, Jared. As a manhunt for the good guy ensues can Jared make Jensen see reason and stop him from going through with long overrun orders or does Jensen’s inability to trust anyone get him killed?
Betaed by mangacat201 and candygramme . Guys, you're amazing.
All Parts
Previous Part (A)
Jensen circled the main house, looking for a way to bypass security. He had managed to cover a lot of ground in the large garden undetected, but it had been slow progress as he'd had to stop every few yards to readjust his route in order to avoid detection. He had hoped that getting onto the grounds of the mansion unseen would trump his heavily armed colleagues. Leaving them out of the picture was his initial plan. But that seemed to get harder with every passing minute as Jensen had discovered that he was by far not the first intruder.
Jared hated the fact that Jensen nursed the heavy paranoia that came with this job. The younger man used to roll his eyes when Jensen had to size up a room and familiarize himself with all the exits and entryways before settling down in some corner - preferably with his back to a thick wall - even if they were just grabbing a cup of coffee on a day off. It might have been a good way to annoy Jared profoundly, but on the job that paranoia really came in handy. Tonight it was probably the only thing that had stood between Jensen and a bullet out of Tom’s three foot long automatic rifle.
Jensen had spotted the tall man hidden in the brush obscuring the south west wall of the main building. He was crouched low and was hard to see if one didn’t know what to look for. Jensen knew though, and he had seen the signs just in time to avoid giving himself away and being shot by the man he was used to teasing so wholeheartedly.
Tom had a close eye on the house’s back entrance and windows. The front of the building was covered by tight security, and Jensen knew that his only way inside was through Tom’s zone. Jensen edged around the building keeping in the shadows of the rich growth of greenery, treading slowly, his feet a mere whisper on the soft grass. He had to take Tom out, before he could proceed any further, and he knew he had to do it by hand, because the body armor and helmet the dark haired man was wearing made a safe kill with one of his silenced guns too risky a task.
It took him a few minutes of light,soundless breaths and ridiculously careful moves to get into the right position. Avoiding discovery by the security system and the secret agent at once was something that made Jensen wish he could gnash his teeth in frustration - but he was rather sure that would be heard, and, honestly, didn’t that just suck?
Finally he stood only an arm's length behind the operative who was crouching between the house’s outer wall and a huge leafy bush, with one shoulder leaning against the building, gun held in both hands resting on one knee. Someone who had never held a weapon would be surprised even by the weight of a simple handgun. The assault rifles operatives were equipped with for this kind of thing weighed a lot more still and holding up the extra pounds of iron and lead over a longer period of time was a strain even with training.
Those heavy rifles held quite a lot of firepower, but the biggest boom in the world couldn’t make the reactions of a soldier any faster when his arms had to hold several times the weight of a pistol. This was Jensen’s advantage. Tom might have the bigger bullets, but his gun was huge, heavy and turning around with it efficiently while stuck between concrete and branches was a near impossibility.
Jensen closed the space between him and Tom, leaning down on him as his arms snaked around the man’s body. His left clamped down over the guy’s face muting any sounds of distress and cutting off his breathing rather effectively by covering his mouth and nose with an unyielding grip, while his right hand darted out to grab Tom’s hand and bend the wrist at a rather unnatural angle, effectively pulling his finger away from the trigger. With a sickening, snapping sound he made sure that it would not be able to get back on. Tom twisted beneath his hold, muffled sounds trapped in his throat, feet shuffling through the soft, damp ground, kicking away the gun in their frenzy.
Jensen brought his right arm around Tom’s neck and pressed down as the agent brought up his uninjured hand to try and pry Jensen’s arms away from his neck and mouth. His gloved fingers bluntly scratched across Jensen's sleeve in futile attempts to break free. It wasn’t long before Tom’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he went limp in Jensen’s hold.
“Well, let’s strip you down, honey.” Jensen couldn’t resist pinching Tom’s ass before getting out his knife, regretting that Tom could not fret about being harassed.
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Crouching was one of those things Jared hated about his job. He knew he was a goddamn giant, and mostly he enjoyed that to its fullest. Towering over people was fun. You saw a lot and didn’t get the smelly waft of passers by half as much as those poor dwarfs who hardly ever managed to find someone eye to eye, but who mostly faced normal people’s armpits… and honestly that would stink. Being tall was a great thing. Jared could carry around anyyone and everything without breaking a sweat, and he had annoyed Jensen with his playful puppy ways quite a few times, when he'd felt compelled to pick the other man up off the ground. Jensen hated it. At least he claimed he did. But Jared had his own theories about that.
As huge as Jared was, he'd never had problems intimidating other people if he needed to. He was normally an easy going person with a big smile and a lot of patience. But in his profession it was necessary to hold your own at times, and having a few inches - sometimes even a foot or more - on practically every other person in the world made it easy to stay out of most fist fights. Once someone was faced by a pissed off Jared, reared up to his full height and squaring his well muscled shoulders, they usually did not feel the need to provoke him. Of course this was one more reason to watch his back, because cowardice was a regular companion for fear. Dying in a fair fight or by a bullet to the back of his head would make no difference as far as he was concerned.
But the same height that gave him quite the advantage in a fight was a curse when he had to sneak through the over-sized gardens of some terrorist’s mansion. Hence the crouching part. As mentioned Jared hated crouching. It just didn’t come naturally to him with his big frame. After slithering across the lawn and towards the location Mike had provided him with, Jared could feel his vertebrae crunching alarmingly against each other while he tried to keep his discs from popping out. His back was as round as that of an angry cat, and he kept his head low to avoid the annoyingly frequent, but inefficiently scattered cameras. If he ever got to stand up straight again his back would probably crack so loudly that the cameras would be unnecessary for finding him anyway.
Jared had checked out half the buildings of the side-complex Mike had highlighted as the most logical location of his prize. So far he had found nothing, and his nerves were strained.
As he sneaked up to the next building, staying in the shadows of a huge oak tree, he had to bite his lip to keep from whooping with relief and excitement. This had to be it. He crept closer to the window that displayed the reason for his joy. It was located at earth level, the window pane only a small sliver of light on the dark grass of the garden. The room beyond the glass was a basement, with at least two thirds of the rooms height located below the surface of the garden. It was illuminated by a few scarce desk lamps, but most of the light appeared to emit from several big plasma screens filled with an array of numbers and letters that displayed a language Jared knew he probably would never learn although Mike was a native speaker. It was hacker’s Latin, and to Jared, Latin was a dead language. He knew how to use programs and computer-protocols just fine, but he wouldn’t dream of actually ever writing one.
This had to be it. He lowered himself to the ground, careful not to make any of his moves visible to the people inside and keeping out of the light that fell on the grass in front of him. He peered inside, and a wide grin spread over his face. Yes, there it was. Jared knew exactly what the hardware that he was trying to retrieve looked like. They were state of the art. Actually Jared remembered Mike telling him with sparkling eyes that the components they used were about an average nine months ahead of everything Joe Blow would ever even hear of. Besides, Jared had handled some of those hard-drives himself on occasion - when they needed to trade information with other agencies. Jared being an “official CIA-agent” came in handy for the credibility of their asset.
Jared made haste in finding the entrance and picking the lock after disabling the alarm system. His steps were muffled, and he quickly thanked the interior designer for the thick, plushy carpet. He crept towards the door that obviously led to the basement rooms. He quickly found that it was not exactly a task for a spy as a sliver of light shone through a gap beneath the door, and muffled swearing could be heard through the thin wood. Looking through the window earlier, Jared had seen that the room was occupied by three people.
One was an elderly man with geekish glasses and receding hair hammering down on a keyboard with quite a vengeance. The second had been a busty girl, who looked like she belonged at a college party, rather than in some shady terrorist’s basement. She was also working on a computer. The last person was a guard, an automatic slung across his shoulder, sitting against the far wall, eying the door and window while the others worked. He obviously wasn’t very good in his job.
Jared took a moment to listen to the conversation behind the door. To his satisfaction they were obviously annoyed at not getting past the self-destruct program on the stolen hardware and dared not go any faster for fear of activating it. Good. The girl had a pretty foul mouth from what he could hear, and the older guy was just worried about not getting paid if they failed. Money. Wasn’t it always about money? Jared pulled out two of his guns and positioned himself at one side or the door, crouching to the level of the doorknob before twisting it and shoving the door open.
“Who’s there?” That had to be the guard. In one swift move Jared darted from one side if the door to the other, staying low while shooting a rain of bullets into the room. He rolled smoothly back to his feet on the other side, mentally counting the number of bullets he had spent. The guard’s answering shots during the attack had - as expected - torn through the air and the drywalls above Jared. The man had aimed for regular chest height, not realizing that Jared would come in low.
Jared knew he had hit the man, he was certain of it. If it was a lethal shot, he couldn’t say though. He got to his feet fast, not giving them time to recover or call help and turned the corner, staying pressed to the door frame keeping his back turned to the side to minimize his body as a target. Gun first, he slid into the room and saw the guard motionless on the floor, blood oozing from several places where the bullets had torn into his body. The girl lay a few feet away, her wound no longer bleeding. Jared’s concern lay with the person still on his feet. The older hacker did not feel like bargaining for his life but dove for the automatic that had fallen from the injured guard’s hand. One more shot sounded, and Jared stood alone in the room with a handful of bodies. Why did people have to be so stupid?
He retrieved the hard-drive and checked that he'd got the real thing before switching on his communications system. “This is Padalecki. I got the missing hard drive. Call off the dogs.”
Chad’s stunned voice answered. “What the fuck are you talking about, Jared?”
Jared didn’t eve flinch when he lied. “I checked out the anomalies you sent me. Stumbled across a couple of hackers trying to breach the self-destruct mechanism. I took my chance.”
There was a long moment of silence, and Jared started to get impatient. He could draw them a map later. Now he needed to hear the order to stop hunting for Jensen. For all he knew it might already be too late.
“Containment?” Jared frowned. He was pretty sure that the voice he heard was that of Jeffrey Dean Morgan himself. No wonder the silence had taken forever if they'd called through to the boss himself.
“One hundred percent. They didn’t breach it yet, the hackers are dead, and I have the hard-drive.” He hoped Morgan bought it, and didn’t expect him to bring everything in for confirmation first.
“Destroy it. Activate the self destruction program and incinerate the site.”
“Yes sir.” He wanted to ask about the manhunt for Jensen, but he didn’t have to, because the channel went back to Chad, who stared barking orders again.
“All teams hold. We have new orders. The stolen asset has been retrieved. Stand down. Ackles is off limits. Let the man finish his job.” Jared heaved a sigh.
Thank God. Now all he had to do was clear up this mess. He erased the hard drive and pulled a two compound explosive charge from a side pocket of his pants. This would make a nice display of fireworks.
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The guards were dead, before they could fire a single shot. Jensen dropped the empty gun keeping the second one level with his target and pulled out one of his spare pistols.
“You’re a hard man to kill.” Jensen clicked of the safety off newly retrieved semi-automatic, letting the metallic sound linger in the air for show rather than anything else.
The man who stood across the room surrounded by the bodies of his bodyguards set his jaw, the muscles in his cheeks and temples working furiously. His eyes were hard but nervous, darting left and right as he looked for a way out. There was none. His hands were raised to his chest.
“You really don’t want to kill me, son.”
Jensen raised a skeptical eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. “Really? I thought that’s what this whole fuss was about. You’ve made this job really annoying.”
“Yes. But you are better than the people you work for, it seems. If you wanted to kill me you would have done it by now. I have valuable information for you and your people.”
Jensen smiled at him, seeing a glint of fear in his opponent's eyes. “No. I just wanted you to know what a pain in the ass you were, before I killed you. I know enough. Your little courier sang like a hummingbird by the time I was done with her.”
He saw the face of the man fall in shock as his last bargaining chip was lost. “You don’t know everything.”
“I don’t have to. I bet your mole knows enough. How did you make her switch sides, huh? Money? Values… no wait. She has no values.” Jensen enjoyed the look of horror on the face that was staring at him. The man didn’t know that Jensen did not know the moles identity, and Jensen would bet his guns that the guy was going to slip up in the next five minutes and blurt out the name.
“What are you…”
“Really, I have to tell you that you chose her well.” Jensen didn’t let him finish but just talked on. He’d have him where he wanted him soon enough. “I mean I would never have suspected. It must have been easy for her to get whatever you asked of her. As pretty as she is, there is no door she couldn’t get through. She really knows how to wrap men around her fingers.”
He shook his head, giving the man a scrutinizing look. “Did you fuck her? Because I did, and she does know some kinky tricks…”
A shot ripped through the air, followed by two more within the matter of a second. Jensen felt the bullets tear through his jacket followed by searing pain in his back, right between his shoulder blades, then across his spine, followed a stab over his left kidney. He fell to the floor with a cry of agony. His forehead slammed against the floor with a dull thud. But the pain that exploded in his skull was just a weak echo beside the torture in his back.
He didn’t know if he was unconscious for a moment but as his mind tried to work past the pain he heard footsteps close to his side.
“Goddamn you, you stupid bitch! You couldn’t have waited any LONGER could you?” The man’s voice was filled with anger rather than the uncertainty it had held just a minute ago. Jensen had a hard time to keep himself from moaning in pain, but he lay still, his face to the floor and waited. The steps stopped and there was the shuffle of clothes as someone knelt down next to him and pulled the gun from his fingers. He let his hand fall to the floor limply keeping his breaths as shallow and slow as he could manage so the person wouldn’t notice he was still alive.
“Sorry, Mr. Lehne. There were some complications. I think our cooperation is over.” The pop of Jensen’s semi-automatic was strangely quiet after the loud bangs of the assault rifle. The dull thud of a body hitting the floor indicated Jensen’s job being officially completed. It appeared that the woman who had betrayed him was the one who would wrap up his work.
“Sandy.” Another man’s voice sounded from somewhere further away. Jensen would have recognized it everywhere.
There was the shuffle of feet and the rustling of clothes followed by two more shots and the sound of another body added to the pile of death that was already littering the room.
“Jensen.” The steps that approached him were fast and heavy, ending with the sound of knees hitting the floor hard. Hands touched his back, and Jensen couldn’t help but cry out in pain, finally opening his eyes once more to see Jared’s face slide in and out of focus as he turned his head sideways. “Oh god, Jensen.” Jared started to press his hands over the holes in Jensen’s jacket, making him groan in pain as he pushed against the painful injuries. Jared’s face changed, a deep frown appearing as he looked at his clean hands. There was no blood. Jensen chuckled and regretted it instantly, feeling his whole body hurt in response to the movement. “Jen? How’d you…?”
Jensen tried to sit up and hissed in pain as Jared pulled him upwards with a helping hand. “I kinda stole Tommy’s extra strong Kevlar vest. The rifle proof version.” When Jared pulled his jacket off and opened the straps of the vest, Jensen nearly fainted at all the movement over his bruises. He might not have been ripped to shreds by bullets, but, hell, that hurt! After the heavy blow to his kidney, he thought he might even pee blood for a while.
He swayed slightly while sitting up, trying not to hyperventilate from the pain.
Jensen looked at Jared, whose face was battling between fury and relief. As Jared’s fist collided with his jaw he fell backwards with a thud that pressed all air from his lungs and had him curling to the side from the pain that jolted through his already bruised back. “That was for hitting me, for not trusting me… and for scaring me half to death.” Jared’s voice held no anger any more, and he was already pulling Jensen back up. Jensen found himself leaning against Jared’s shoulder with an arm around his back to keep him from falling back over. “I’m so glad you’re o.k. Does it hurt much?”
Jensen wanted to slug him, but he couldn’t find the energy.
Epilogue