Wonderful Life
Title: Wonderful Life
Fandom: RPS
Characters/Pairings: Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki
Prompt: 061. Winter.
fanfic100 table: here
Word Count: 2,899
Rating: R for language?
Warnings: Language, depression/suicidal thoughts, homophobia, (temporary) character death
Summary: Basically "It's a Wonderful Life" for Jared, with the twist of RPS and crap I made up. After a fight with Jensen, Misha helps Jared realize why his life is worth living.
Jared stood on the side of the bridge, staring down into the water. He could hardly see it, for all the snow and tears in his eyes. His heart ached, and he clutched at the rail, hardly feeling it, as his hands were beginning to grow numb. He’d left in a hurry, with a coat that was far too thin and no gloves at all, but it wasn’t as if it mattered. In a few moments, nothing would matter anymore.
“Jared.”
Hardly a sound left Jared’s throat as he startled back away from the rail, feet slipping in the ice and arms flailing as he regained his balance. It was too cold, his voice needing to warm up again. His breath left a white cloud in front of his face as he gasped and turned to his left, Misha standing before him.
“Jared, this isn’t the answer. You know that.”
The words didn’t truly sink in, Jared still trying to comprehend Misha’s sudden appearance. He looked Misha over, realizing that the other man was without any outerwear at all, standing before him in a simple sweater and jeans. “Misha? Aren’t you freezing?” Jared asked, shivering himself. “What the hell are you doing out here?” He looked around, searching for a car, a cab, anything. “How did you even get here?”
Misha’s eyes flashed blue, and he disappeared and reappeared on the other side of Jared, the flutter of wings sounding, though Jared was unable to see them. “Misha allowed me to use him as my vessel, so that I could get to you.”
Jared stared for a moment, and then he laughed, bending at the waist, slight twinges of pain in the parts of his body that he was managing to warm back up again with his movement. “I’ve lost it,” he said to himself, laughing again. “I’ve been out here too long. I’m dying from exposure before I could even jump. And you.” He turned to Misha, jabbing at his shoulder with a chuckle. “Figment of my imagination. The guy who pretends to be an angel becomes an angel!”
“You misunderstand,” Misha said, regarding him with sad eyes. “You haven’t gone crazy. I’m here to help you. You should be home, Jared. Not here. This is not the answer.”
Jared scoffed, turning away and rubbing his hands together, flexing his fingers and wincing in pain. “Right. You know, even if you were real, you expect me to believe that Misha would let some dick angel possess him?”
Misha chuckled, shaking his head. “We aren’t quite the dicks that we are on your show.” He thought for a moment and added, “Not all of us. It must seem like a joke, choosing him for a vessel. But I thought it would make this a bit less of a shock, and, judging by his character, I knew that he would be willing.”
“What are you talking about?” Jared asked, moving back towards the rail of the bridge.
“You’re his friend, Jared,” Misha said again, the same sad, sympathetic look on his face as before. “I told him that you were in trouble, and that I would only use him for this. I told him that it was your only chance. He didn’t hesitate for a second.”
Fresh tears sprung to Jared’s eyes, and he shook his head, turning back to the water. “This is a dream.”
“Not a dream,” Misha answered, and Jared had no time to react to the fingers pressing to his forehead.
****
“What-Where are we?” Jared stumbled again, head reeling from being zapped to...to here, this room that was pure white. The cold and ache in his body were gone, and he held his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth. “Dream. This is a dream.”
“I already told you, this is not a dream.” Misha grabbed Jared’s shoulders and righted him, too-bright eyes boring into him. “There are some things I need to show you.”
“What? What things?” Jared looked around, searching for a way out and finding nothing.
“Things that will prove the importance of your existence,” Misha explained, stepping towards a crisp white wall. “I believe you began questioning it tonight when this happened.” The room began to darken, but the wall remained bright, shapes and colors appearing, shifting into a picture, a memory:
Jensen stood in a room full of boxes, all of them labeled. They were stacked in piles, and Jared knew what the piles were. Some piles were moving with them, and others - the more plentiful ones - were being sold. Remnants of a script were scattered about Jensen’s feet, Jensen’s body tense as he stared down at them, his back to Jared. They’d torn up more scripts in the past few months than Jared could count.
“I’m sorry,” Jared had said, moving to hug Jensen from behind, and Jensen shrugged him off and stepped away.
“Don’t. Not again.” Jensen turned to face him, leaning back and eventually sitting on one of the boxes in the room. “I’ve told you before that it’s not you.”
“Like hell it isn’t,” Jared murmured, feeling wounded.
Jensen shook his head, jaw clenching. “I’m not having this argument again, Jared.”
“Really?” Jared took a step forward, his voice rising. “Because this time, you won’t even let me touch you!”
“You wanna touch me?” Jensen stood again, arms outstretched, glaring at Jared. “Go right ahead! But I won’t have all this self-pitying shit from you for the millionth time! I get it, Jay. You feel like shit. Join the fucking party!”
Jared scoffed, hands moving to his hips. “So, my feelings mean nothing now, is that it?”
“Oh, Goddammit, Jared.” Jensen rubbed a hand over his face, trying to compose himself. “Don’t start that. Not again. We’ve been through this, alright? Even if you were to blame, which you aren’t, there’s nothing you can do about it. The damage is done.”
“Right.” Jared nodded, licking his lips. “So, you agree that there’s damage, then? That things would be easier if we hadn’t come out?”
“Son of a bitch, Jared, the only way things would be easier would be if I never even knew you!”
The words echoed in Jared’s head as the scene ended, the sting still felt in his heart as the room brightened to white again. But he felt numb to it a moment later, swallowing hard. “He’s right,” Jared said, voice flat. “If I wasn’t here...Everyone would just be better off if I never existed. Right?” He turned to Misha, as if he’d find an answer, but received only a sad stare in return. “I mean, I can’t stop being who I am, and I can’t take it back, but if I wasn’t here…” Jared took a deep breath, running through his reasons, the way he already had so many times in his mind. “My family wouldn’t be harassed, my friends wouldn’t be questioned, my manager wouldn’t have to fight so hard, my exes wouldn’t be ridiculed, and Jensen...Jensen would have a career, and he wouldn’t have to give anything up. He...He deserves so much more. Christ, even my fans wouldn’t have to defend themselves for supporting me.”
Misha cocked his head at Jared, eyebrows raised. “Everyone would be complacent, you mean? Tell me, is that always a good thing?” He didn’t wait for an answer, stepping towards Jared and placing a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re the man that Misha thinks you are, it won’t take much to change your mind.”
Jared shook his head, not understanding. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Misha turned and pointed them to the next wall. “It means that I won’t have to show you much to prove my point. Let’s see how things might have been if you had never existed.”
The room went dark, this wall now lighting up with colors forming a montage of scenes. They were people he knew, friends of his that he’d either met on his own or knew through Jensen or through Supernatural. But none of them were where they were supposed to be. Writers, actors, musicians, they were all struggling, all barely making ends meet, and Jared stepped back, shaking his head.
“No...No, come on, that’s impossible. They’ve all done more than this.”
“Because of the show,” Misha agreed, nodding. “Because of you. Without you, the show never existed.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Please. I’m not even close to being the most important part of the show, and you know that. There are tons of actors who could’ve taken my place. Why would the show not exist without me?”
The montage ended and the room brightened again. Misha squeezed Jared’s shoulder. “Why, indeed?” He turned them again, to the third wall. “You won’t like this.”
“Won’t like what?” Jared asked, his stomach churning at Misha’s tone as the room went dark again. The new wall lit up, and Jared saw Jensen’s family seated at a somber Christmas dinner. There was an empty seat where Jensen should have been, and Jared tensed, beginning to feel nauseous. “Where is he?”
“Look closer,” Misha said quietly. “Past the table into the next room. Look closely at the fireplace.”
The urn was far away but still visible, and Jared shook his head violently, tears filling his eyes as he turned and shoved at Misha’s chest, knocking him backwards. “Don’t you fucking tell me he’s dead!” He shoved at Misha again, fists balling, teeth clenching. “What kind of a joke is this? You think I’m that important? You think just because I’m not there, Jensen doesn’t have a life, a future, a career that he deserves?? What do I have to do with whether or not he lives?”
“I don’t think it,” Misha said calmly, straightening up. “I know it. Have you forgotten about the fight? Season 1, barely a few episodes in, and you end up in a fight with some drunken hooligans at a Vancouver bar.”
Jared laughed to keep from sobbing, running a hand through his hair. “Bullshit. Jensen’s the one who saved my life that night. That fight was all him. I was the one in trouble, being ganged up on. He saved me, not the other way around.”
“Are you sure?” The room went back to bright white. “Do you never see the role you play in these situations?” Misha sighed, shaking his head. “Yes, Jensen did end up saving you, but do you even remember why the fight started? Those men were coming after Jensen, specifically. Not you. You could’ve stepped back, just walked off and called for help, but you didn’t. You joined a fight that you weren’t even part of, and risked your own life in the process. You see it as Jensen’s victory and not your own, but you were just as much a hero as he was.”
Jared stood in silence for a moment, still having a hard time believing. “So they killed him?" he whispered, voice wavering. “The...The other actor who took my place?”
Misha smiled sadly. “He was not so brave as you. He didn’t join the fight. Jensen didn’t get away or get the chance to save the person who saved him. He had no help.” The room went dark again. “Neither did they.”
The final wall lit up with new scenes: families mourning loved ones, suicide notes, people losing their way and leaving the world too soon. Jared lost his breath when he saw faces that he actually recognized.
“No,” he choked out, covering his face with his hands. “No, no, I’ve seen these people, they...they got stronger, they overcame things, they didn’t…”
The room brightened again, and Misha’s hand rested on Jared’s back. “They told you these things in person, right? At your conventions, or when they’ve run into you in public? You didn’t exist, Jared. Neither did the show. They didn’t latch onto it, they didn’t connect with it, they didn’t have that experience that helped them to get through their rough patches."
Jared dropped his hands, openly crying. “But I don’t understand. I can’t...I can’t be that important. I can’t be life and death to all these people. I mean, to think that would be…”
“It obviously doesn’t mean that you need to have an ego bigger than this room. If it did, then you wouldn’t be here with me right now. Strange, isn’t it, that you’ve had this kind of impact on people, and yet you were just thinking of taking your own life?” Misha stood in front of Jared, their eyes meeting. “You are important. What you do touches so many people. You touch so many people.”
Jared looked away, unable to hold Misha’s gaze. “But, I...I piss people off, I say the wrong things, I…”
“You make mistakes,” Misha said simply, shrugging. “You’re human. You let people down.” He smiled, knowing Jared would recognize the words. “No one said you had to be a saint. But, saintly or no, the whole of you? Your heart?” He pressed a hand over Jared’s chest. “It’s good.” He let his hand fall and stepped back. “I think I should show you one more thing.”
“No, God, please, no,” Jared sputtered, palms held up. “I’ve learned my lesson. I understand now, and I wouldn't give my life away for anything, just take me back.”
Misha smiled, and turned to the first wall, the wall that had replayed Jared’s fight with Jensen. “Relax. I just want you to understand. Words in the heat of the moment don’t always mean what you think. Here is Jensen now.”
Jensen was sitting on a box with his head in his hands, Jason sitting beside him on another, others close by. “I didn’t mean it,” Jensen was saying, voice broken and rough. “Not like that. I just meant that knowing him...I can’t know him and not love him.” He lifted his head, tears shining in his eyes. “I knew this might happen, all of it. But none of this stuff, no things or roles, are worth more than him. And now he’s out there in the cold, and nobody can find him. I don’t care where the hell I end up, I just want him to be safe.”
The scene ended, the room bright white again, and Jared closed his eyes, swaying on his feet. He’d taken a lot in through a short amount of time. But he knew he was loved, and he knew what he had to do. He knew that who he was and who he loved were worth fighting for; that all consequences were worth it. “I wanna go home.”
The fingers on his forehead zapped him back to the bridge, Jared covering his face as a blinding white light left Misha’s body. Jared stared in disbelief afterwards, watching Misha stumble, gasp, and right himself. He’d still been convinced that at least part of this was a dream, his subconscious waking him up to reality. But Misha now stood before him, somewhere between tears and a smile.
“Thank God,” Misha rasped, clearing his throat and shaking his head. “That was bizarre.”
Jared stood with his mouth open for a moment, still catching up with the fact that this was real; that an angel had come to convince him that his life was worth something, and that Misha allowed it. “Are...Are you okay?” he asked, finally snapping out of it and reaching for Misha, who was trembling, still shaken from the experience.
“I’m fine,” Misha said, grabbing onto Jared for support. “I’ll be fine. I’m not hurt, I was just...you know...possessed by an angel.” There was a half-hearted laugh that still had some fear in it, and Jared hugged him, both of them shivering from the cold, now.
“Shit,” Jared cursed, realizing they needed to get home and get warm as quickly as possible. “Do you have your phone? I...I left mine at home. I didn’t think I’d need it.”
Misha pulled back and wordlessly handed Jared his cell, letting Jared make the call for a cab while he adjusted to being himself again. “Please don’t do that again,” he said after Jared had hung up.
“I won’t,” Jared answered, ashamed of what he’d planned and touched by the emotion in Misha’s voice. “I...I don’t really know how to thank you. Nothing I could say would be enough. I just can’t believe you did it.That...That means more to me than I can ever say.”
“While we’re being nice to each other,” Misha said, teeth chattering, “I should tell you that there are a lot of things I could thank you and Jensen for. Sure, you give me shit, but I know you’d beat the fuck out of anybody else who did. You treat me like family, and everything that’s come with working with you…I had a rough childhood. So did a lot of people, I’m not complaining. But to grow up and end up with this? I never expected this.”
Jared smiled, rubbing his hands together to warm them up again. “So, I guess we’re friends?”
The cab pulled up, and Misha stepped towards it. “Whatever, Padalecki.”
Fandom: RPS
Characters/Pairings: Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki
Prompt: 061. Winter.
fanfic100 table: here
Word Count: 2,899
Rating: R for language?
Warnings: Language, depression/suicidal thoughts, homophobia, (temporary) character death
Summary: Basically "It's a Wonderful Life" for Jared, with the twist of RPS and crap I made up. After a fight with Jensen, Misha helps Jared realize why his life is worth living.
Jared stood on the side of the bridge, staring down into the water. He could hardly see it, for all the snow and tears in his eyes. His heart ached, and he clutched at the rail, hardly feeling it, as his hands were beginning to grow numb. He’d left in a hurry, with a coat that was far too thin and no gloves at all, but it wasn’t as if it mattered. In a few moments, nothing would matter anymore.
“Jared.”
Hardly a sound left Jared’s throat as he startled back away from the rail, feet slipping in the ice and arms flailing as he regained his balance. It was too cold, his voice needing to warm up again. His breath left a white cloud in front of his face as he gasped and turned to his left, Misha standing before him.
“Jared, this isn’t the answer. You know that.”
The words didn’t truly sink in, Jared still trying to comprehend Misha’s sudden appearance. He looked Misha over, realizing that the other man was without any outerwear at all, standing before him in a simple sweater and jeans. “Misha? Aren’t you freezing?” Jared asked, shivering himself. “What the hell are you doing out here?” He looked around, searching for a car, a cab, anything. “How did you even get here?”
Misha’s eyes flashed blue, and he disappeared and reappeared on the other side of Jared, the flutter of wings sounding, though Jared was unable to see them. “Misha allowed me to use him as my vessel, so that I could get to you.”
Jared stared for a moment, and then he laughed, bending at the waist, slight twinges of pain in the parts of his body that he was managing to warm back up again with his movement. “I’ve lost it,” he said to himself, laughing again. “I’ve been out here too long. I’m dying from exposure before I could even jump. And you.” He turned to Misha, jabbing at his shoulder with a chuckle. “Figment of my imagination. The guy who pretends to be an angel becomes an angel!”
“You misunderstand,” Misha said, regarding him with sad eyes. “You haven’t gone crazy. I’m here to help you. You should be home, Jared. Not here. This is not the answer.”
Jared scoffed, turning away and rubbing his hands together, flexing his fingers and wincing in pain. “Right. You know, even if you were real, you expect me to believe that Misha would let some dick angel possess him?”
Misha chuckled, shaking his head. “We aren’t quite the dicks that we are on your show.” He thought for a moment and added, “Not all of us. It must seem like a joke, choosing him for a vessel. But I thought it would make this a bit less of a shock, and, judging by his character, I knew that he would be willing.”
“What are you talking about?” Jared asked, moving back towards the rail of the bridge.
“You’re his friend, Jared,” Misha said again, the same sad, sympathetic look on his face as before. “I told him that you were in trouble, and that I would only use him for this. I told him that it was your only chance. He didn’t hesitate for a second.”
Fresh tears sprung to Jared’s eyes, and he shook his head, turning back to the water. “This is a dream.”
“Not a dream,” Misha answered, and Jared had no time to react to the fingers pressing to his forehead.
****
“What-Where are we?” Jared stumbled again, head reeling from being zapped to...to here, this room that was pure white. The cold and ache in his body were gone, and he held his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth. “Dream. This is a dream.”
“I already told you, this is not a dream.” Misha grabbed Jared’s shoulders and righted him, too-bright eyes boring into him. “There are some things I need to show you.”
“What? What things?” Jared looked around, searching for a way out and finding nothing.
“Things that will prove the importance of your existence,” Misha explained, stepping towards a crisp white wall. “I believe you began questioning it tonight when this happened.” The room began to darken, but the wall remained bright, shapes and colors appearing, shifting into a picture, a memory:
Jensen stood in a room full of boxes, all of them labeled. They were stacked in piles, and Jared knew what the piles were. Some piles were moving with them, and others - the more plentiful ones - were being sold. Remnants of a script were scattered about Jensen’s feet, Jensen’s body tense as he stared down at them, his back to Jared. They’d torn up more scripts in the past few months than Jared could count.
“I’m sorry,” Jared had said, moving to hug Jensen from behind, and Jensen shrugged him off and stepped away.
“Don’t. Not again.” Jensen turned to face him, leaning back and eventually sitting on one of the boxes in the room. “I’ve told you before that it’s not you.”
“Like hell it isn’t,” Jared murmured, feeling wounded.
Jensen shook his head, jaw clenching. “I’m not having this argument again, Jared.”
“Really?” Jared took a step forward, his voice rising. “Because this time, you won’t even let me touch you!”
“You wanna touch me?” Jensen stood again, arms outstretched, glaring at Jared. “Go right ahead! But I won’t have all this self-pitying shit from you for the millionth time! I get it, Jay. You feel like shit. Join the fucking party!”
Jared scoffed, hands moving to his hips. “So, my feelings mean nothing now, is that it?”
“Oh, Goddammit, Jared.” Jensen rubbed a hand over his face, trying to compose himself. “Don’t start that. Not again. We’ve been through this, alright? Even if you were to blame, which you aren’t, there’s nothing you can do about it. The damage is done.”
“Right.” Jared nodded, licking his lips. “So, you agree that there’s damage, then? That things would be easier if we hadn’t come out?”
“Son of a bitch, Jared, the only way things would be easier would be if I never even knew you!”
The words echoed in Jared’s head as the scene ended, the sting still felt in his heart as the room brightened to white again. But he felt numb to it a moment later, swallowing hard. “He’s right,” Jared said, voice flat. “If I wasn’t here...Everyone would just be better off if I never existed. Right?” He turned to Misha, as if he’d find an answer, but received only a sad stare in return. “I mean, I can’t stop being who I am, and I can’t take it back, but if I wasn’t here…” Jared took a deep breath, running through his reasons, the way he already had so many times in his mind. “My family wouldn’t be harassed, my friends wouldn’t be questioned, my manager wouldn’t have to fight so hard, my exes wouldn’t be ridiculed, and Jensen...Jensen would have a career, and he wouldn’t have to give anything up. He...He deserves so much more. Christ, even my fans wouldn’t have to defend themselves for supporting me.”
Misha cocked his head at Jared, eyebrows raised. “Everyone would be complacent, you mean? Tell me, is that always a good thing?” He didn’t wait for an answer, stepping towards Jared and placing a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re the man that Misha thinks you are, it won’t take much to change your mind.”
Jared shook his head, not understanding. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Misha turned and pointed them to the next wall. “It means that I won’t have to show you much to prove my point. Let’s see how things might have been if you had never existed.”
The room went dark, this wall now lighting up with colors forming a montage of scenes. They were people he knew, friends of his that he’d either met on his own or knew through Jensen or through Supernatural. But none of them were where they were supposed to be. Writers, actors, musicians, they were all struggling, all barely making ends meet, and Jared stepped back, shaking his head.
“No...No, come on, that’s impossible. They’ve all done more than this.”
“Because of the show,” Misha agreed, nodding. “Because of you. Without you, the show never existed.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Please. I’m not even close to being the most important part of the show, and you know that. There are tons of actors who could’ve taken my place. Why would the show not exist without me?”
The montage ended and the room brightened again. Misha squeezed Jared’s shoulder. “Why, indeed?” He turned them again, to the third wall. “You won’t like this.”
“Won’t like what?” Jared asked, his stomach churning at Misha’s tone as the room went dark again. The new wall lit up, and Jared saw Jensen’s family seated at a somber Christmas dinner. There was an empty seat where Jensen should have been, and Jared tensed, beginning to feel nauseous. “Where is he?”
“Look closer,” Misha said quietly. “Past the table into the next room. Look closely at the fireplace.”
The urn was far away but still visible, and Jared shook his head violently, tears filling his eyes as he turned and shoved at Misha’s chest, knocking him backwards. “Don’t you fucking tell me he’s dead!” He shoved at Misha again, fists balling, teeth clenching. “What kind of a joke is this? You think I’m that important? You think just because I’m not there, Jensen doesn’t have a life, a future, a career that he deserves?? What do I have to do with whether or not he lives?”
“I don’t think it,” Misha said calmly, straightening up. “I know it. Have you forgotten about the fight? Season 1, barely a few episodes in, and you end up in a fight with some drunken hooligans at a Vancouver bar.”
Jared laughed to keep from sobbing, running a hand through his hair. “Bullshit. Jensen’s the one who saved my life that night. That fight was all him. I was the one in trouble, being ganged up on. He saved me, not the other way around.”
“Are you sure?” The room went back to bright white. “Do you never see the role you play in these situations?” Misha sighed, shaking his head. “Yes, Jensen did end up saving you, but do you even remember why the fight started? Those men were coming after Jensen, specifically. Not you. You could’ve stepped back, just walked off and called for help, but you didn’t. You joined a fight that you weren’t even part of, and risked your own life in the process. You see it as Jensen’s victory and not your own, but you were just as much a hero as he was.”
Jared stood in silence for a moment, still having a hard time believing. “So they killed him?" he whispered, voice wavering. “The...The other actor who took my place?”
Misha smiled sadly. “He was not so brave as you. He didn’t join the fight. Jensen didn’t get away or get the chance to save the person who saved him. He had no help.” The room went dark again. “Neither did they.”
The final wall lit up with new scenes: families mourning loved ones, suicide notes, people losing their way and leaving the world too soon. Jared lost his breath when he saw faces that he actually recognized.
“No,” he choked out, covering his face with his hands. “No, no, I’ve seen these people, they...they got stronger, they overcame things, they didn’t…”
The room brightened again, and Misha’s hand rested on Jared’s back. “They told you these things in person, right? At your conventions, or when they’ve run into you in public? You didn’t exist, Jared. Neither did the show. They didn’t latch onto it, they didn’t connect with it, they didn’t have that experience that helped them to get through their rough patches."
Jared dropped his hands, openly crying. “But I don’t understand. I can’t...I can’t be that important. I can’t be life and death to all these people. I mean, to think that would be…”
“It obviously doesn’t mean that you need to have an ego bigger than this room. If it did, then you wouldn’t be here with me right now. Strange, isn’t it, that you’ve had this kind of impact on people, and yet you were just thinking of taking your own life?” Misha stood in front of Jared, their eyes meeting. “You are important. What you do touches so many people. You touch so many people.”
Jared looked away, unable to hold Misha’s gaze. “But, I...I piss people off, I say the wrong things, I…”
“You make mistakes,” Misha said simply, shrugging. “You’re human. You let people down.” He smiled, knowing Jared would recognize the words. “No one said you had to be a saint. But, saintly or no, the whole of you? Your heart?” He pressed a hand over Jared’s chest. “It’s good.” He let his hand fall and stepped back. “I think I should show you one more thing.”
“No, God, please, no,” Jared sputtered, palms held up. “I’ve learned my lesson. I understand now, and I wouldn't give my life away for anything, just take me back.”
Misha smiled, and turned to the first wall, the wall that had replayed Jared’s fight with Jensen. “Relax. I just want you to understand. Words in the heat of the moment don’t always mean what you think. Here is Jensen now.”
Jensen was sitting on a box with his head in his hands, Jason sitting beside him on another, others close by. “I didn’t mean it,” Jensen was saying, voice broken and rough. “Not like that. I just meant that knowing him...I can’t know him and not love him.” He lifted his head, tears shining in his eyes. “I knew this might happen, all of it. But none of this stuff, no things or roles, are worth more than him. And now he’s out there in the cold, and nobody can find him. I don’t care where the hell I end up, I just want him to be safe.”
The scene ended, the room bright white again, and Jared closed his eyes, swaying on his feet. He’d taken a lot in through a short amount of time. But he knew he was loved, and he knew what he had to do. He knew that who he was and who he loved were worth fighting for; that all consequences were worth it. “I wanna go home.”
The fingers on his forehead zapped him back to the bridge, Jared covering his face as a blinding white light left Misha’s body. Jared stared in disbelief afterwards, watching Misha stumble, gasp, and right himself. He’d still been convinced that at least part of this was a dream, his subconscious waking him up to reality. But Misha now stood before him, somewhere between tears and a smile.
“Thank God,” Misha rasped, clearing his throat and shaking his head. “That was bizarre.”
Jared stood with his mouth open for a moment, still catching up with the fact that this was real; that an angel had come to convince him that his life was worth something, and that Misha allowed it. “Are...Are you okay?” he asked, finally snapping out of it and reaching for Misha, who was trembling, still shaken from the experience.
“I’m fine,” Misha said, grabbing onto Jared for support. “I’ll be fine. I’m not hurt, I was just...you know...possessed by an angel.” There was a half-hearted laugh that still had some fear in it, and Jared hugged him, both of them shivering from the cold, now.
“Shit,” Jared cursed, realizing they needed to get home and get warm as quickly as possible. “Do you have your phone? I...I left mine at home. I didn’t think I’d need it.”
Misha pulled back and wordlessly handed Jared his cell, letting Jared make the call for a cab while he adjusted to being himself again. “Please don’t do that again,” he said after Jared had hung up.
“I won’t,” Jared answered, ashamed of what he’d planned and touched by the emotion in Misha’s voice. “I...I don’t really know how to thank you. Nothing I could say would be enough. I just can’t believe you did it.That...That means more to me than I can ever say.”
“While we’re being nice to each other,” Misha said, teeth chattering, “I should tell you that there are a lot of things I could thank you and Jensen for. Sure, you give me shit, but I know you’d beat the fuck out of anybody else who did. You treat me like family, and everything that’s come with working with you…I had a rough childhood. So did a lot of people, I’m not complaining. But to grow up and end up with this? I never expected this.”
Jared smiled, rubbing his hands together to warm them up again. “So, I guess we’re friends?”
The cab pulled up, and Misha stepped towards it. “Whatever, Padalecki.”