Gone Are The Days (5/6)
five
Jared had no idea where he was.
He'd taken off from the Ackles' house blindly, paying no attention to where he was going, just desperate to get away. Gradually the familiar streets with their far-spread houses had given way to the more densely packed suburbs, deserted thanks to the rain that even now beat down on him. His jacket was hanging forgotten on the same coat peg that he'd left it on, and he was glad that he'd at least had the sense to grab his sneakers when he bolted - unlaced though they were.
He was soaked through and miserable, clothes sticking to him uncomfortably, and painfully aware that the only money he had was the ten dollars in his wallet. He didn't dare look at his cell phone, had resolutely ignored the way that it was vibrating on and off against his hip as he ran.
In the end, it was exhaustion that slowed him to a walk.
He wished that he could run forever without ever stopping, but his lungs were burning and his thighs were aching and he knew that if he ran much farther he'd drive himself to his knees. It wasn't the first time he'd taken off from a foster home - he and Jensen had bolted multiple times when they were younger, only to be dragged back by a kind-faced police officer or angry social worker each and every time.
They'd never made it past more than a few hours, and as the last of the afternoon's rays gave way to darkness, Jared was forced to recognise that he didn't have a plan.
He had no money, a phone but nobody to call, and he knew from his past experiences that it would only be a matter of time before Donna or Alan reported him as missing and he had the cops on his ass. If he hadn't found somewhere discreet to hunker down by then, he'd be dragged back kicking and screaming, and he wasn't ready for that.
He'd never forget the look on Jensen's face when Jared had blurted out the truth. He looked as if the floor had gone out from underneath him, stumbling back against the wall as if he'd been physically hit. And god, but Alan had been furious. Looking back, he was pretty sure that the Ackles patriarch wasn't actually going to hit him, but at the time all he'd seen was the outstretched hand coming towards him, and that had been enough.
Hell, he was pretty sure that even if he could find his way back - or if he allowed himself to be picked up by a squad car - he'd been shipped off in a heartbeat. He just couldn't take that chance - he knew better than to think that he was strong enough to go through that again.
He was done with being passed around like a throw-away kid, only staying in one place as long as they wanted him for something... as long as they needed him.
The sharp squeal of brakes against asphalt had him glancing over his shoulder, and Jared shook his head as a Mercedes came into view, having to fight to right itself after taking the corner way too fast.
For one, entirely insane moment, Jared honestly considered stepping out in front of it.
It would be so easy. The car was going fifty, easy, and in this weather there'd be no way that the driver would be able to stop in time; and going that fast, Jared was pretty sure that the collision would very neatly end all of his problems.
His foot hovered over the edge of the sidewalk, just a split-second away from waving his proverbial white flag in the air and throwing himself into the middle of the road, and then his brain caught up with what he was doing and he sharply yanked it out.
He'd survived seventeen years of crappy foster homes and being treated worse than an animal. In nine months' time, he'd legally be considered an adult - he'd be able to get out, for good. Surely he could cope until then?
Sucking in a deep breath, Jared shook his head at the mistake he'd almost made, and turned his back on the car.
There was another screech of brakes, sudden and sharp, and the hairs on the back of Jared's neck stood straight. Dread registering in the pit of his stomach, he spun around just in time to see the driver fighting for control, the Mercedes' spinning madly in a search for friction, and the car heading straight for Jared.
And then there was darkness.
***
"Anything?" Alan asked, watching as Jensen once more rose to his feet and paced towards the window, staring out of it. The young man sighed, tossing his cell phone onto his sofa and shaking his head.
"Nothing. Mom says that they've been all over town and neither them nor the police have turned up anything," He reported despondently. "They're gonna head back here so we can regroup."
Alan nodded, and Jensen didn't miss the way that his grip tightened fractionally where he was gripping their home phone. As if on cue, the thing shrieked loudly - causing both men to jump slightly - and Alan wasted no time in answering it and raising it to his ear.
Jensen watched with baited breath, only to feel his shoulders slump in the same moment that his adopted father spoke.
"Look, Mike, I know I'm on call but Jared's missing and I really can't come in right now." The man explained tersely. "Can you call David instead?"
Jensen turned back to the window, curling in on himself even more as he caught sight of his mother's car pulling into the driveway, closely followed by Jeff's. Behind him, his adoptive father's man suddenly sharpened.
"What do you mean?"
Frowning Jensen glanced over, feeling his stomach drop almost instantly. Alan's face was so pale it was almost white, and his hands were shaking.
"Yeah, yes." He muttered, rising to his feet. "I - Mike, how bad? Okay. We'll be there as soon as we can."
He hung up then, but didn't move for a long second, eyes slowly lifting to meet Jensen's.
"Alan," Jensen begged. "Please-"
"It'll be okay," Alan reassured. "Mike says it was a hit and run, but they got to him pretty quickly. Jared's in the best hands right now, and we need to be strong, okay?"
Jensen distantly registered the sound of front door shutting with a quiet snick, but he didn't pay any attention to hit, breaths hitching in and out of his chest as he watched his adoptive father, silently begging him to tell him that Jared was going to be okay.
"Alan?" Donna sound as scared as Jensen felt. "Alan, what's going on?"
Slowly turning, Alan offered his wife a small, sad smile.
"Jared's at the hospital, Don. He was in a hit and run."
***
The waiting room seats were cold and uncomfortable and Jensen ached to move around - pace the length of room, or stalk over to the nurse's station and demand to know how Jared was doing. Whether or not he was okay.
Donna and Alan had tried to leave him behind with his siblings, but Jensen had point-blank refused, and it had only taken a slight pause before Donna had nodded her head and ushered him into the backseat of their car.
Alan had disappeared almost as soon as they'd arrived, heading past the emergency room doors even though Jensen knew that he wasn't supposed to be with Jared at the moment. It was some kind of policy not to let doctors get involved with the car of their loved ones, which Jensen could kind of understand, but Alan had simply pushed past Mike when the older man had tried to stop him.
That had been four, seemingly never-ending hours ago.
"How are you holding up, baby?" Donna asked quietly, dropping a hand onto his back as he leant forwards in his seat, dropping his head into his hands.
"I'm not the one in a hospital bed right now," Jensen snapped, his own words and tone registering seconds later, and he groaned. "I'm sorry. I just... everything's so fucked up. I need to know that he's going to be okay."
He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the woman he'd come to see as his mother, expecting her to chastise him for his language. Instead, she smiled sadly, soothing her hand over his back.
"I know," She acknowledged; a tired, sad smile teased at the edges of her lips. "Things aren't going so hot right now, huh?"
Jensen choked out a laugh, tears filling his eyes, and opened his mouth to respond. He was cut off my the unmistakable sounds of the ER doors swinging open, and glanced up to find Alan walking towards them. His normal clothes were gone, replaced by scrubs that were blood-stained in places, and his face was pale and tired.
Not for the first time that evening, Jensen thought he might throw up.
"Alan?" Donna asked carefully, both her and Jensen rising to their feet to meet her.
"He's in pretty rough shape," the man admitted, running a hand through his grey-flecked hair. "But he's stable for the moment."
"What does that mean?" Jensen demanded anxiously, because 'stable at the moment' was not the same thing as 'he's stable' or 'he's going to be okay' and he needed to know. "What's wrong with him?"
"Looks like the car that hit him was going pretty fast," Alan replied carefully. "But somehow Jared seems to have managed to twist to the side - if he hadn't, I honestly don't think he'd have made it this far. He's broken his arm, his leg, and it looks like he's got a pelvic fracture, too. He was pretty lucky where that was concerned - normally they cause internal bleeding, but we can't find any."
Jensen nodded, opening his mouth, but Alan shook his head with a sad smile and Jensen came to the horrifying realisation that he wasn't finished.
"He hit his head pretty hard when he landed," the man continued softly. "It looks like there's some swelling on his brain, but I've seen patients with far worse come out of the other end fine. Right now, we're mainly worried about internal bleeding. Looks like he might have torn his spleen up pretty good, maybe messed up one of his kidneys. They've got him in surgery now."
The room swam dizzyingly, and for a second Jensen thought that he might actually pass out, and then he was being pressed into a chair, his head forced down between his knees.
Gradually, the world came back into focus, and he became aware of Alan's voice.
"Hey, kiddo, you're alright," he was muttering reassuringly, still holding Jensen's head down between his knees. "You feeling better now?"
Jensen nodded, watching as a drop of water - a tear, he realised after a moment - fell to the floor with a splash. Slowly, Alan released the back of his neck, letting him sit upright. Jensen couldn't even bring himself to care that he was crying, not putting up a protest when Donna dragged him into her embrace.
"It'll be alright," she muttered to him, voice soft. "You'll see. He's come this far, and I don't think he'll be going anywhere without a fight. He's a strong kid, Jensen."
Jensen nodded into her sweater, forcing himself to take deep breaths and drag himself together. Breaking down now wasn't going to accomplish anything.
"When can we see him?" He forced himself to ask. Alan, still crouched in front of him, smiled.
"He'll be in surgery for a while," he replied evenly. "But I'm pretty sure I can get us in to see him straight away. There's very few people who'll argue with a doctor on the war path."
Jensen heaved a sigh of relief, nodding his head, and Alan patted his knee before settling him into the seat next to him. Jensen's eyes once again locked on the clock above the nurse's station, as if worried that the hands wouldn't move if he wasn't watching.
The three of them didn't move, and it felt like years later that Mike stepped through the doors and offered them a small smile.
"We've got him in a room now," he offered, clapping a hand on Alan's shoulder. "He came out of the surgery better than we expected, although we did have to remove the spleen completely. The tear was too big to risk trying to repair it."
Alan nodded. "And his kidney?"
"From what we can tell, it's just bruised." Mike offered with a grin. "Looks like the kid might have saved his own life by twisting the way that he did - you've sure as hell got a smart one there."
"We know," Alan grinned, and Jensen shifted impatiently. Rude as it was, he had no interest in his adopted father exchanging pleasantries with his friend - he just wanted to see Jared already. Glancing over, Alan seemed to sense Jensen's anxiety. "Can we see him?"
"Of course," Mike agreed, waiting for them to climb to their feet before leading them to the young man's room. "He looks a bit of a mess right now, and there's a fair few wires attached to the kid, but I'm pretty optimistic that he's gonna come out of this okay."
Jensen couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him, and next to him, Donna was practically beaming. It felt like a huge turn around from what they'd been faced with just two and a bit hours ago - when neither of them had even known if Jared had survived the emergency treatment. Jensen hadn't ever voiced his doubts, scared that saying it out loud might make it so, but he'd been almost convinced that Alan would emerge with little more than a headshake.
Nothing had ever scared him as much as that thought had.
"Here we are," Mike said suddenly, pulling to a stop outside of a plan h
ospital door. "I'll give you a while to sit with him. The nurse's will be stopping by to do their rounds soon, but you're more than welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I'll leave a note at the office expressing my permission."
Alan nodded, but Jensen was already gently pushing past him, suddenly desperate to see Jared for himself - to prove that this wasn't all some cruel kind of trick.
It wasn't. Despite the bruises littering his body, Jensen recognised his best friend in the instant that he stepped through the door.
Mike hadn't been lying when he'd said that Jared was hooked up to a lot of machines; the wires seemed to be everywhere, making Jared look much smaller than Jensen knew him to be. There was an oxygen mask strapped over his face which didn't hide the dark bruising on the left side of the kid's body - a contrast to the sickly yellow bruise on his right cheek that was all but faded away.
His left arm was resting next to him on the bed, held straight by a plaster cast, and Jensen could see the raised ridge of another one on his leg through the thin sheet. He was resting perfectly still, his IV-stuck right hand resting just underneath the bulky bandages spread across his stomach.
"Jesus," Jensen breathed, sinking into a seat on the kid's good side and tentatively reaching for his hand. Jared's hand was limp within his own, but not cold and clammy like he'd feared, and he squeezed the warm fingers gently. "God, Jay. I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault, son," Alan muttered quietly, resting a hand on the top of his son's head. "He wouldn't want you to blame yourself. Besides, you two can talk it out when he wakes up, okay?"
Jensen nodded firmly.
"Yeah," He agreed. "We will. It's about time that he figured out that I'm not going anywhere."
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