I Fought The Law, Part 1
Not posting this to any comms just yet, as I'm still working on it. I haven't really been posting WIP's, but this might take me some time, due to that pesky work thing. And I'd love opinions on it, since I was liking it at first, but towards the end of this, I was starting to think it sucked. Aaaand, I've never done a historical AU before, so it might.
Title: I Fought The Law
Fandom: RPS
Characters: Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki
Prompt: 063. Summer.
fanfic100 table: here
Word Count: 22,324
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language and hardcore smexing, both het and slash.
Summary: Jensen Ackles feels trapped in Richardson, Texas, living according to others' expectations and doing his best to abide by the law. He longs for more excitement in his life, and turns to tracking down outlaws, earning himself a badge and a good reputation. But the men he captures seem more alive than he could ever be, and when the infamous Jared makes himself known in Richardson, Jensen makes a decision that changes his life forever.
Disclaimer: Not only do I not even know them, but this is an AU...clearly not trufax.
Author's Notes: tishawyman wanted a historical AU. Jensen's character is based slightly on Burton Alvord. You gotta love Google. And I kind of love Christian Kane.
1906 (Now) - San Antonio, Texas
Everything important happens on the hottest day of the year. Every significant memory he has is accompanied by the feel of sweat trickling down the back of his neck, his body slick with it beneath leather and chaps, the brim of his Stetson casting a shadow over his face and shielding his eyes from the brutal rays of the sun. The streets would be dry, horse hooves kicking up clouds of dust, women sitting on the old, creaking chairs on their porches, fanning themselves. The greatest amount of water wouldn’t be enough to quench his thirst, his mouth as dry as the dusty roads. He knows that, once the temperature rises to one hundred degrees, he’ll see him again. He looks up at the sun through the barred window of his prison cell and knows the haze isn’t strong enough yet. But his time is coming soon.
1881 - Twenty-Five Years Ago - Richardson, Texas
Jensen Ackles stood in the back of the courtroom, his hat held in his hands. He took a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably. The room was unbearably hot; the whole of the town was packed into it, though that didn’t include too many people. As far as Jensen was concerned, it was hot enough for just one other person to make the air in the room oppressive. He supposed he should simply be grateful for the fact that he was excused from his ranch hand duties at the Manns farm, as he was sure he would collapse and die of exposure out in the afternoon sun. He half listened as his father presided over the biggest case Richardson had ever seen. He looked around the room and saw every occupant watching the trial with some kind of morbid fascination, every one of them hoping for a lynching.
He supposed he should know more about the man on trial, but Jensen’s childhood had been steeped in law talk, his father’s job a constant topic of conversation in the Ackles household. He’d heard that the man was some sort of high-profile outlaw, finally caught by Sheriff Harris, expected to be put to death as quickly as possible. He’d heard that much until his father had gone on to lecture him on the importance of justice and the law, and then he’d stopped listening. He suspected that his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps, even more so now that Josh had gone and bypassed the law to become the town doctor. Jensen was the only other son; the only other child able to become something and carry his father’s reputation into the next generation. But Jensen had always felt restless watching his father work. It bored him, the idea of sitting in a stuffy courtroom all day. Then again, there wasn’t much else to do in Richardson that could be considered exciting. The only job that was somewhat appealing to Jensen was that of the sheriff, and even that position didn’t see a lot of action in these parts.
“…shall be hanged at three o’clock in the afternoon…”
Jensen’s ears pricked up as they caught those words, and he heard a collective gasp within the room. He surveyed the crowd and gripped his hat tighter, refraining from shaking his head. The people of Richardson may have sounded horrified, but their expressions gave them away, their hunger for fame and death shining in their eyes. He had no doubt that every one of them would be excused from their work to attend the lynching, as well, and they’d all pretend to be shocked as they watched the condemned criminal hang. He moved with the crowd when they rushed outside after the accused had been led out, heading for the prison.
And that was when it happened. With everyone in Richardson packed inside the courtroom, there was no one around to witness the gathering of outlaws on the dusty roads, guns at the ready. Jensen had just stepped outside, fixing his hat back on his head, when the first shots were fired, the shock and horror of the crowd no longer an act as their screams filled the air.
“Jensen!”
He turned at the sound of his name and caught sight of his mother being jostled by the crowd, her eyes wide and panicked. He lunged through the crowd towards her, and she clung to him, the two of them ducking back into the doorway of the courthouse as shots continued to ring out around them. He looked out at the road, dust kicking up as people scattered and ran in no specific direction, the hooves of the criminals’ horses pounding the ground around them. Through the thick of it, he could already see the sheriff’s body on the ground, the sun still able to glint off of his badge. He drew his gaze upward and happened to meet the eyes of one of the outlaws. There was a shine in their dark brown that spoke of both insanity and excitement, and Jensen stood without even realizing it, captivated by the life there. He felt the tug of his mother’s hand on his trousers, saw the outlaw’s gun level at him, but he didn’t move, barely even flinched, when the gun went off, taking his hat clean off his head.
His mother was still screaming his name as he stood there and watched the outlaw turn away, rearing up on his horse, he and his gang whooping victoriously as they rode off down the road, taking the condemned man with them and leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. He watched even after they were gone, sweat trickling down the back of his neck.
“Jensen!”
He blinked as if coming out of a trance and finally turned to his mother, crouching back down beside her. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, and he could feel her sob against him. His eyes fell to the ground behind her and caught on his hat, and he reached past her to lift it in his hands, her arms still holding him close. He saw the hole that was shot straight through the material, and only realized then how fast his heart was beating, suddenly feeling as though it might pound out of his chest. He’d almost died. He’d almost died, and he’d never felt so alive.
Mackenzie’s scream made him jolt, and his mother released him, the two of them looking out at the road. His mother’s cry came next, sounding desperate in his ear. He watched in stunned silence as his sister fell to the ground, dirtying her skirts, her long blonde hair falling over her face to obscure her tears. His brother knelt across from her, their father’s body lain between them.
1886 - Five Years Later - Richardson Texas
Jensen burst through the doors of the saloon, grinning when everyone inside turned to look at him. A number of them grinned back from their old wooden chairs and stools, and he removed his hat, allowing his hair to fall into his eyes. He walked over to the bar, his shiny new badge granting him congratulatory pats on the back and a number of cheers from the people he passed. He laughed, setting his hat down on the bar and turning to face the room.
“Thank you all very kindly,” he said, nodding to all the eyes that were focused on him. “I think you all know how long I’ve been waiting for this. And I think I’ll take a moment to celebrate before I arrest all your sorry asses.” Polite laughter filled the room, and Jensen turned back to the bar, grinning at the bartender. “Fill me up, Jeffrey Dean.”
“Used to be a boy like you would call me Mr. Morgan,” Jeff said, raising an eyebrow and returning Jensen’s smile. “But I guess your new title puts you above that, eh Deputy?”
“Nah, I ain’t above anything, Mr. Morgan,” Jensen said, leaning on the polished wood.
“Don’t,” the bartender said, shaking his head and filling a glass for Jensen, placing it down on the bar with a wink. “Just call me Jeff. And it’s on me.” Jensen nodded his thanks and lifted the glass to his lips. “It’s about damn time you got the badge. Your daddy would’ve been proud.”
“Thanks,” Jensen said, putting his glass down and fighting off his reflexive cringe at hearing those words. His father had wanted him involved with the law, but that wasn’t why Jensen had fought so hard to become Richardson’s deputy, and he doubted his father would be proud of his reasons for choosing the profession. He thought back to the day his father died and the day of his funeral, recalling the feeling of numbness that came before the feeling he’d never admit having to anyone.
Jensen wasn’t a coldhearted person, and family was family. He’d loved his father, just as he loved his mother and siblings. But he’d stood at his father’s gravesite five years ago and felt relieved. There was a certain sense of freedom that came with his father’s passing, knowing that he wouldn’t be pressured and condemned to life in Richardson’s courtroom anymore. He could do what he wanted and strive for something more dangerous and exciting. His mother had pleaded with him to stop; to remain at the Manns farm or do something equally as innocent, her memories of his father and Sheriff Harris dying for their cause all too vivid. But he’d done it. He’d proven himself an excellent tracker and joined the new sheriff in his fight against crime, all because he couldn’t get the image of those free and passionate outlaws out of his head. The shooting five years ago had ruined him and made him yearn for something more, if not just a sliver of that kind of thrill. He figured the badge would get him one step closer and had already participated in a number of chases, firing guns and dodging bullets as if he’d been born to do so.
“Word has it, we may need your help soon,” Jeff said, and Jensen looked up from his drink.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “Why’s that?”
“Well,” Jeff poured himself a drink and took a swig before answering, “There’s this outlaw making a name for himself in other parts of Texas. Some people are saying he might end up here next.”
“You know the name that he’s making for himself?” Jensen asked, already fidgeting in anticipation. Jeff nodded.
“Jared,” he said, and Jensen paused, waiting for more.
“‘Jared’ what?” he asked finally, cocking his head in confusion.
“He doesn’t have a last name,” Jeff answered, shrugging. “At least not one that he gives. He just goes by Jared.”
“Does he work alone?”
****
Jared crouched by the river and splashed the cool water on his face, rubbing it over the back of his neck and leaving the ends of his long hair wet, though they’d already been dampened by sweat. He took a deep breath before standing back up, searching the riverbank. Being on the run was one hell of an adrenaline rush, and he wasn’t about to get caught. Rivers were an obvious attraction. He’d already spent too much time here. He turned away, placing his hat back on his head and heading back for the horses.
“Chad! Jeff!” The men reappeared from their own ventures down to the water, and he nodded at them, pointing at their horses. “Saddle up. We’re moving on. Let’s see what the good folks of Richardson have to give us.”
He mounted his horse and trotted off, his men falling in behind him.
****
Jensen left the saloon and returned to the jailhouse to find Sheriff Beaver waiting for him, leaning into the doorframe, hat low over his eyes. He nodded politely as he removed his own hat and stepped inside, the sheriff following him.
“You drinkin’ on the job, Jensen?”
“Just enough to loosen me up and make me dangerous,” Jensen said, smirking and shrugging, tossing his hat onto the lone table in the room and ignoring the one prisoner held captive in the cell beside it. The sheriff eyed him seriously for a moment and then broke out into a grin.
“Good. Do me a favor and keep an eye on our man, would you?” he nodded towards the occupied cell. “I got some things I gotta do.”
“Sure thing, Jim.”
Jensen sighed as Jim gave a small wave and headed out the door. He looked around the room, and suddenly wished he hadn’t. It was small, only housing three cells along the back wall, the lone table and three rickety wooden chairs placed just outside of the last one. Sunlight filtered through the windows, one tiny one at the back of each cell, the room still dim in the late afternoon. For a moment, he wondered if it was really any better than the old courthouse. But he reminded himself of the criminals he’d apprehended, of the chases he’d been on, the gunfights. That was what he lived for. He reminded himself that it wouldn’t always be like this, sitting in an old dark room and watching over the one lonely prisoner held in Richardson.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, Deputy.”
Jensen turned at the sound of the voice, slowly walking over to the table he’d thrown his hat on and pulling a chair out. He looked into the cell beside him and saw Christian Kane, a well-known but less violent outlaw serving his time, staring back at him.
“Looks like,” Jensen said, sitting down in the chair. “You a talker, Christian?”
“Sometimes.” Christian sat back against the far wall of his cell, staring out at Jensen. His long brown hair brushed his shoulders, blue eyes wild and mischievous, a smile playing on his lips. “Don’t have too much to talk about these days, though. Think I owe that to you. You did a damn good job on the chase.”
“A criminal congratulating me on catching him,” Jensen mused, smirking at the man. “Not something I expected.” Christian shrugged.
“Just tryin’ to make conversation.”
“Right.” Jensen went silent for a moment, idly toying with the hat he’d laid on the table in front of him. He hesitated before he spoke again, doing his best to sound casual. “So what’s it like?”
“What’s what like?” Christian asked, staring back at him before smiling knowingly. “The chase? The life?” He stood and walked to the front of the jail cell, leaning on the bars, eyes still focused on Jensen. “It’s excitin’,” he said, laughing. “You do what I do, you get a rush every damn day. It’s a thrill. And it’s all worth it. Even getting caught.”
“Aren’t you afraid?” Jensen asked, shifting under Christian’s gaze.
“Life is fear,” Christian said, shrugging, his smile fading. “We’re all afraid. Of sickness, of death, of poverty. It’s what you do with the fear that’s important.” His smile slowly grew again. “You call us criminals. Outlaws. Maybe we just know how to live.” There was a beat of silence before Christian spoke again. “Why are you askin’? You curious?”
“Of course not,” Jensen said, a little too quickly. He stared back at Christian with confidence, but he couldn’t deny the way his heartbeat sped up at just the description of Christian’s lifestyle. He bristled when Christian laughed, suddenly aware that the prisoner had flipped a switch inside of him.
“You want more,” Christian said, laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. “I can see it in your eyes. That why you became a Deputy? Think you could get a thrill out of that? Out of this?” He motioned around the room, and Jensen looked away, aware that his hands were shaking. “This is nothing compared to what men like me experience every single day of our lives. You’re on the wrong side of the law, my friend.”
“Shut up!” Jensen spat harshly, standing and turning away. He could feel energy building up inside of him, and he willed it away, shaking his head. He couldn’t possibly agree with this man behind bars. “There’s a reason why you’re locked up and I’m free.”
“You call this free?” Christian laughed again, and Jensen tensed. “Let me tell you something, Deputy. You’re not half as free as I am. But you could be.” Jensen turned back around, and Christian’s smile taunted him. “I know you want it. And from what I’ve seen? From how quick you are, the way you ride, and the way you handle a gun? You’d be good at it.”
Jensen glared at Christian, but those words sunk in and rattled through his brain, repeating themselves over and over again. He sat back down, but turned his face away from the prisoner and kept his gaze averted.
“That’s enough talk for today, Christian.”
“Alright.” Christian pushed off of the bars and walked to the back of his cell, dropping to the floor again and sitting back against the wall. “Just let me know if I can be of any more help to you. I’m sure I can satisfy many of your other curiosities.” Jensen tensed, the tone and meaning of Christian’s words not lost on him.
“I can always find a whore in town,” Jensen growled, somewhat defensively. He saw Christian lean forward out of the corner of his eye.
“You want a real thrill, you don’t go for a whore, son.”
Jensen stiffened, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, conflicting thoughts and emotions swirling around inside. He prayed for some action, a chase, anything to keep his mind from going to forbidden places. He couldn’t possibly be thinking about becoming one of them. He reminded himself that it wouldn’t always be like this, sitting in an old dark room and watching over the one lonely prisoner held in Richardson. But, deep down, he knew that it would be.
****
Jared pulled his hat down low over his face and didn’t have to look to see his brother and Chad doing the same. His reputation was growing, and they knew when they needed to keep a low profile. He grinned, dismounting his horse and tying it just outside the bank, the other two men following suit. Keeping a low profile just before a robbery was usually the way to do it.
“Alright, boys,” Jared said, turning to look at them. “You know the drill.”
“I keep the peace, you get the money, and Jeff plays lookout,” Chad answered, smirking and patting Jeff on the back. Jeff nodded mutely.
“Right, then.” Jared nodded and tipped his hat to his men. “Let’s show Richardson how we do it.”
****
Another day of sitting alone with Christian in the jailhouse had Jensen heaving a sigh, though Christian did still manage to talk his ear off when Jim wasn’t around. He supposed that was better than nothing. Otherwise, he’d go crazy and just end up talking to himself, which would probably lose him his badge. As Christian let a bit of silence drag on in the dim, dusty room, Jensen wondered if losing the badge would really be such a bad thing.
“You look lonely, Jensen,” Christian commented, being serious for once. “Ain’t I keepin’ you good enough company?”
“We on a first name basis?” Jensen asked, half glaring at the man and only receiving a smile in return.
“Alright, then. Deputy. You look lonely.”
“Maybe I’m just bored,” Jensen huffed, leaning back in his chair and sighing. “You ever think of that?”
“Hell, yeah, I’ve thought of it,” Christian laughed, tapping his finger against the bars he sat behind. “How could I not think of it? If anybody’s bored, it’s me. You can at least walk outta here.” Another beat of silence passed before Christian spoke again. “I know the difference between bored and lonely. And you look lonely. Ain’t you got family here? Didn’t I hear Jim saying somethin’ about you bein’ married off to, uh…what was the name? Harris?”
“Yeah,” Jensen grunted, suddenly going tense. “Yeah, the Harris girl. We’re supposed to be a good match. Y’know, ‘cause both of our daddies were shot to death five years ago. Guess that means love.” Christian snickered, and Jensen sighed again, regretting his words slightly and catching Christian’s eye. “She’s a nice girl.”
“But she ain’t your girl,” Christian clarified, blue eyes calm and understanding, and Jensen thought it was frightening just how much the outlaw identified with him. “And your family?”
“They mean well,” Jensen answered, almost immediately, finding himself wondering why he even told Christian so much. But it was easy for him; so much easier than talking to anybody else in this town. “I just feel kinda trapped here, that’s all. Thought the badge would make it better. Hell, it’s only been a couple days. Maybe it will.”
“You don’t believe that,” Christian said, shaking his head, and Jensen had to keep himself from mirroring the motion, the pit in his stomach telling him that no, he didn’t believe it. “You know what the best thing to do is when you feel trapped like that?”
“What?” Jensen scoffed, rolling his eyes at Christian. “Become an outlaw?” Christian grinned.
“You learn real quick, Deputy.”
Jensen’s retort was lost on his tongue when he heard the familiar thump of Jim dismounting his horse just outside the door. The sheriff practically ran into the room, his urgent expression enough to make Jensen jump up out of his seat and grab his hat off the table, quickly jamming it onto his head.
“Get on your horse and follow me, boy,” Jim exhaled in a rush of words, breathing heavily. “We got a robbery!”
“Yes, sir!” Jensen spared a glance at Christian when Jim disappeared out the door, hearing the outlaw chuckle. His blue eyes were wild and mischievous again, lips spreading in a grin.
“Looks like you’re bringin’ me a friend.”
****
Jared leaned forward, riding hard, saddlebag full. He stared ahead with a fierce determination, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“They’re still on us, man!”
“I KNOW!” he shouted back to Chad, turning his head to look at him and then casting a glance back at his brother, whose eyes were wide and fearful. “Don’t worry!” he called over his shoulder, and Jeff’s eyes locked on his. “Nie martw się! We’ll lose them!” He looked past his brother for a moment, to the sheriff and the deputy riding hard behind them, not close enough to take a shot, but not nearly far enough away. The deputy seemed to even be gaining on them, before suddenly veering off in another direction. Jared had a sinking feeling that the man knew this territory much better than he did. “Who the hell is this guy?” Jared muttered under his breath, the wind whipping in his face. No one had ever followed them this far before. Their jobs were quick and easy. He hated to admit it, but things weren’t exactly going according to plan in Richardson, Texas.
He took his men through some twists and turns, his horse snorting its protests even as it kept on. He patted its neck gently, understanding its concerns. They were both somewhat wild and on the run. There were people who said that Jared and his “kind,” usually termed “outlaws,” were just like animals. Jared didn’t necessarily see that as an insult. He continuously looked behind him as they made their escape, finally breathing a sigh of relief when they lost the sheriff, the man not even within eyesight anymore. He eased up a bit on his horse, feeling as though enough time had passed. If the deputy was going to catch them, he would’ve done so by now.
“Whoa…” Jared pulled back on the reins and the horse stopped on a dime by a small outcropping, whinnying almost gratefully. “Yeah, yeah. I know, girl. Good job.” He hopped down off of the animal, Chad and Jeff just catching up and following suit, jumping swiftly to the ground. He smiled at them, trying to keep confident, even as his brother trembled and Chad shook his head.
“That was too close, Jared,” Chad said, taking his hat off and wiping at the sweat trickling down his forehead. “We almost didn’t make it.”
“Come on,” Jared scoffed, though his chest constricted a little when he glanced over at Jeff. “They’ll never catch us.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Jared.”
Jared flinched and then froze at the sound of the voice, watching as Chad’s eyes went wide and Jeff started trembling a little more, both of them focused on the person who’d managed to sneak up behind him, undoubtedly appearing from behind the outcropping.
“You better put your hands where I can see ‘em,” the voice growled. “I ain’t got no problem shootin’ an outlaw.” Jared stiffened when he felt the barrel of a gun press to the back of his neck. “I mean it. No quick moves. You ain’t that good, or I wouldn’t have caught you.” The gun was removed. “Turn around.”
Jared turned slowly, making a point to sneer as he did so. He caught the shine of the deputy’s badge as he did, eyes moving up to search out his face. He was glaring with hatred at the man, body tensed and ready for action. His heart was pounding in his chest again, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was aware that he could die if he made a move, but he’d do anything to keep Jeff and Chad from going to jail. If anything, he could somehow manage to take the deputy with him.
He startled a bit when he met the deputy’s eyes, a bright, passionate green found there. The look in them wasn’t much different from what he felt and what he saw in the eyes of others like him, but not quite as intense. There was a world in those eyes, a plethora of emotions. They were strong and excited, but lost and restless. They were simultaneously joyful and pained. And, when they focused on his, they widened a bit in wonder. There was a fascination there that Jared couldn’t explain, and then a slight dulling of color; a sudden hesitation and conflict.
They stared at each other for a moment, not one of the four men standing there moving a muscle. Jared took in the features beneath the dusty cowboy hat: long dirty blonde hair, wide green eyes, full lips, a couple days’ stubble, and a strong, sharp jaw line. He wasn’t sure if he was glaring anymore, and had to remind himself that he was supposed to hate the man that he was now considering beautiful. And he tried to. He tried to, until the deputy slowly lowered his gun and stepped away, eyes darting back and forth and then lowering.
“Get the hell outta here.” Jared stood dumbly for a moment, cocking his head. They’d been caught, fair and square by the first person who was finally able to catch them. Jared had a reputation. There was no way in hell anybody would ever voluntarily let him and his men go. “You fuckin’ deaf, friend?” the deputy growled, anger lighting a green fire in his eyes. “I told you to get the hell outta here. Now!”
Jared didn’t have to be told more than twice. He turned and nodded back to Jeff and Chad, who quickly mounted their horses and began to ride off. Jared followed behind them for the first time in a long time, mounting his horse and sparing one last glance at the deputy, who looked back at him with eyes that spoke of both envy and depression, before galloping away.
****
Jensen watched Jared and his men ride away until they were nothing but specks on the horizon and sighed, suddenly feeling lonelier than he ever had in his life. A deep despair crawled into his chest and stayed there, and for just a split second, the crazy thought entered his mind to mount his own horse and follow Jared off into the sunset, leaving his badge in the dust. He shook his head, trying to clear his brain of such nonsense. Such things were supposed to be wrong and forbidden. Normal men didn’t long for the life of an outlaw. He’d just have to accept that he wasn’t normal, and that he’d never be happy. He had to settle for what he had here, in Richardson.
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, still able to smell the men and their horses, and reliving the last few moments. He remembered the sweat trickling down his neck, the dryness of his mouth, and the thrill of the chase, even in the brutal heat. He remembered the feeling that his victory gave him, his patience paying off as he caught the man rumored to be the next most wanted outlaw of the land. He remembered how powerful he felt when Jared surrendered to him.
And he remembered how powerless he felt when his eyes met Jared’s. His confidence and bravado were nothing but a mere imitation of Jared’s. There was so much life in Jared’s stormy hazel eyes; so much experience that Jensen would never have. They were Christian Kane’s wild eyes multiplied a million times over. Jared’s face was burned into his mind: unruly brown hair and bangs sticking out from beneath his hat, narrowed hazel eyes, reddened cheeks, and clenched jaw. There was something about Jared, something that Jensen couldn’t just lock up in a prison cell. In Christian’s words, he wasn’t half as free as Jared was, and Jensen had somehow decided that a man like Jared deserved that freedom.
Jensen opened his eyes and stared out into the space that Jared and his men had ridden off into, something inside of him throbbing with a pain he couldn’t describe. He hung his head and turned to walk back to where he’d left his horse. Once he returned to the jailhouse empty-handed, the pain would only get worse.
****
Jared sat in front of the fire with Jeff and Chad, emptying out the saddlebags to count their stolen goods. They hadn’t spoken much since they’d left Richardson, a certain tension rising between the three of them.
“Why did he let us go?” Chad asked quietly, finally breaking the silence. “There’s just no reason for it.” Jared sighed, dropping the money he held in his hands.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. Chad frowned, and Jared bristled at the feeling it gave him, as though his authority and skill could suddenly be questioned, now that they’d come close to being caught. He looked over at Jeff, who held the same question in his eyes and softened his gaze. “Nie znam.”
“I don’t like it,” Chad said, crossing his legs where he sat on the ground. “What if he had a reason? What if someone else is tailing us, waiting to catch us, and that’s why he let us go?”
“No,” Jared said, shaking his head. “That’s not it.”
“How can you be so sure?” Chad asked, narrowing his eyes. “You just admitted you don’t know what’s goin’ on. You sure as hell didn’t see that deputy comin’ when he snuck up on you. How do you know we’re safe now?”
“I just do,” Jared growled, glaring at his friend. “Have you ever questioned me before?”
“No, but you’ve never gotten us caught before,” Chad retorted, staring back at Jared steadily.
Jared angrily got to his feet and walked a few paces away, his back to their camp. As much as he wanted to lash out at Chad, he knew that Chad was right. He had no excuse for what had happened in Richardson, and he couldn’t explain why the deputy had let them go. But he could still picture the man’s face when he closed his eyes, and he knew that there was no ulterior motive there. There was something else, something Jared couldn’t identify, and he found himself wanting to see the man again. He’d never wanted to revisit any of their old stops along the way or cared so much about a stranger, let alone a stranger originally set out to catch or kill him.
He shook his head, knowing that the idea of going back to Richardson was damn near lunacy. He was just shaken by the days’ events and needed to get his head back on straight. He’d forget all about that haunted deputy soon enough. He turned back to the fire, to Chad silently sulking and Jeff staring at him worriedly.
“Nie martw się,” he said quietly, sitting down next to his brother and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Nie martw się.”
****
“I thought you knew exactly where to head them off?”
“I thought I did, too, Jim, but they must’ve gone another way!”
“They were headed right for it, Jensen! I lost sight of ‘em, sure, but they should’ve been there!”
“Okay, then they outrode me.”
“Outrode you? No one can outride you!”
“What are you saying, Jim? I don’t know what else to tell you! Guess I’m just not perfect, after all! As if I haven’t done enough for this damn town!”
At that, Jim stormed out of the jailhouse, off to calm the angry mob gathering on the streets, the citizens demanding an answer for Jared’s escape with their money. Jensen sighed, dropping his head in his hands, and falling back into the chair he’d occupied for the past couple of days.
“Guess I’m not gettin’ a friend, after all,” Christian said, his tone oddly serious. Jensen glanced over at him and groaned at the knowing look he held in his eyes. “You let them go?” Jensen didn’t answer. He just shook his head, though he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t denying it, really, but he supposed it worked to lament his current situation. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Jensen answered, hanging his head in defeat. “I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lock him up. He shouldn’t be locked up.” He caught Christian raising his eyebrows in curiosity out of the corner of his eye, but the outlaw didn’t press the issue. Jensen figured he probably knew the answer, anyway. Christian Kane seemed to be a goddamned mind reader.
Jensen closed his eyes, once again reliving the moments of the chase, of catching and releasing Jared. Wild hazel eyes haunted him, and when he opened his own eyes again, he found that he hated the sight of the jailhouse even more than he had before.
1889 - Three Years Later - Richardson, Texas
Jensen burst through the doors of the saloon, eyes fixed on the floor. Everyone inside was watching him. He could feel their eyes on him as he walked to the bar, the scene oddly reminiscent of the one three years ago. But they weren’t smiling at him or congratulating him this time. They just watched him pass in judgment, and he tried to physically shrug their inner criticisms off of his shoulders. They weren’t looking at his face. He knew that much. They were looking at the space where his badge had been, nothing striking or shiny to make him stand out or give him power anymore. Not that the badge had ever meant power. The badge was just another set of restraints in this town. He’d learned that the hard way.
“Fill me up, Jeffrey Dean.” The bartender nodded silently, filling up a glass and sliding it across the bar to him. He didn’t manage to crack a smile until he felt a familiar presence beside him, an arm sliding around his shoulders. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you lived here, Christian.”
“Guess the bottle’s my weakness,” Christian said, smiling back at him. “Guess I can’t call you Deputy anymore.”
“Nope.” Jensen tensed, reaching for his glass and swallowing down as much as he could in one gulp, thumping it back down on the bar when he was done. “Guess it’s just Jensen now.”
“And ain’t that the way it should be?” Christian asked. Jensen shrugged, but couldn’t help smiling again. He guessed he’d spent too many days trapped in the jailhouse with Christian, but he’d grown to love the way the man made everything sound. Others always viewed people like Christian in a negative light, but everything the guy said sounded so damn positive. Jensen was really beginning to think that outlaws weren’t so bad, and his tendency to keep their company and spend more time at the saloon had led to his loss of the badge. And yet, while he was somewhat bitter, he felt a bit of the same relief he’d felt when his father had died. “No titles,” Christian continued. “No definitions, expectations. You’re just you. You’re free.”
“Yeah, well, I still have my family to deal with.” He scoffed a bit, tossing back the rest of the burning liquid in his glass. “Though they’ve sorta disowned me. Hell, guess I am free.”
“And isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”
Jensen didn’t answer Christian’s question. He sat there, silent and thinking, wondering what would become of him. His family was good and proper, trying to distance themselves from him and keep their reputations clean. He was no longer a good match for the Harris girl, her hand in marriage promised to another man. His own reputation was shot to hell. Sure, he was free, but where would he go? What would he do?
****
Richardson, Texas. Jared tied his horse outside the saloon and took a deep breath, pulling his hat down low and looking around. It had been three years since he’d been there, but he was still a well-known outlaw. Coming to Richardson was a risk, and he knew it. Chad and Jeff had pleaded with him to forget about it, but he couldn’t. In the end, he’d left them behind, running to Richardson solo. He hadn’t been able to forget the deputy since he’d left, and he’d waited long enough for most of the local heat to wear off. Hell, he felt like he’d waited too long. He felt a rush, almost like the adrenaline of a chase. He fidgeted in anticipation, unsure of what he’d even do or say to the man. It wasn’t often a man like himself actively pursued a man of the law. But this one was different.
He walked into the saloon, carefully glancing around as he made his way to the bar, wondering how he’d go about getting information on where to find the deputy without being recognized or having everyone point him to the obvious, which was the jailhouse: the one place he absolutely couldn’t visit. He wondered for a moment if Jeff and Chad had been right, and he really had lost his mind. And then those green eyes met his for the first time in three years, and he sucked in a breath, finally ceasing his movement forward. The deputy’s eyes widened, and he quickly excused himself from the conversation he’d been having with the long-haired man next to him. Jared flinched when the deputy suddenly grabbed him by the arm and turned him around, hurriedly rushing him back outside.
“What are you doing here?” the deputy hissed, his voice low, and Jared could see the way the man’s chest rose and fell a little too quickly, his green eyes sparking and just a bit hopeful. He also noted the absence of the deputy’s badge, his curiosity peaked.
“I…” Jared choked on his words, unable to think of an explanation for his sudden appearance. “You’re not wearing your badge,” he said instead, and the deputy’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m not a deputy anymore,” he said, though his voice lacked the disappointment Jared felt most men would have over the loss of their jobs, and Jared smiled slightly.
“I’d say I was sorry, but then I’m always relieved to have one less lawman around. So what do I call you?”
“Jensen,” the man huffed, though he was clearly fighting a smile of his own. “Who says you’ll be callin’ me anything, anyway? You should be gettin’ outta here. Thought you were gone for good.”
“Why are you helping me?” Jared asked, blurting the question out before he’d even thought about it. Jensen’s eyes dodged his, glancing around them and lowering to the ground. “Why did you let us go back then?”
“I can’t say why,” Jensen said honestly, still not looking at him. “I can’t admit to it. I can’t…” He trailed off for a moment, shaking his head, his expression solemn. “I just can’t.”
“Why not?”
It was a simple question, but the way Jensen looked at him, it was like Jared was his own personal savior; like those two words suddenly meant so much to him. He started nodding, almost to himself.
“Why not,” Jensen repeated, more of a statement than a question. “Why not.”
****
Two words had never meant so much to Jensen in his life. Why not? It was like Christian had said. Nothing was holding him back anymore. And seeing Jared again had brought Jensen back to that day; to watching Jared and his men ride off into the sunset and wishing he could join them. To be in the saloon and suddenly see Jared standing there after three years was like a gift. If he’d ever had a calling, he felt that this was it.
But he couldn’t possibly tell Jared that. He couldn’t just invite himself into Jared’s life, as much as he wanted to. He wanted to grab Jared and say, “Listen, I’m on your side. Take me back with you.” But he held back, hesitating. Why would Jared even trust him to lead him to wherever he and his men were hiding out at the time? Jared probably didn’t even want him around.
And yet, Jared was here, seeking him out. Jensen never thought he’d see the day that that happened. He fidgeted a little, suddenly unsure of himself. An awkward silence drifted between them until Jared moved towards his horse, finally speaking up.
“You know, you were damn good that day,” Jared said, untying his horse. “Shame to waste your talents bein’ a good citizen of Richardson.” He paused and looked at Jensen meaningfully, eyes piercing straight through him as a mischievous grin lit up his face. “If you wanted to get outta here, you could just follow me.”
Jensen remained silent, staring dumbly as he watched Jared mount his horse, sweat trickling down his neck. He continued staring as Jared slowly moved away from the saloon, setting his horse at a light, hypnotic pace, his shadow thrown on the ground by the blazing sun. He never heard Christian moving through the swinging doors of the saloon and moving up behind him, jolting when he was suddenly slapped on the back.
“You think I don’t know who that is?” Christian drawled, nodding towards Jared’s slowly retreating form. “What happened?”
“He…” Jensen stuttered and paused, coming out of his stupor. “He said I could follow him.” Christian gripped him by the shoulders and turned him around, bright blue eyes focusing on his own.
“Then what the hell are you waiting for?”
Part 2
Title: I Fought The Law
Fandom: RPS
Characters: Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki
Prompt: 063. Summer.
fanfic100 table: here
Word Count: 22,324
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language and hardcore smexing, both het and slash.
Summary: Jensen Ackles feels trapped in Richardson, Texas, living according to others' expectations and doing his best to abide by the law. He longs for more excitement in his life, and turns to tracking down outlaws, earning himself a badge and a good reputation. But the men he captures seem more alive than he could ever be, and when the infamous Jared makes himself known in Richardson, Jensen makes a decision that changes his life forever.
Disclaimer: Not only do I not even know them, but this is an AU...clearly not trufax.
Author's Notes: tishawyman wanted a historical AU. Jensen's character is based slightly on Burton Alvord. You gotta love Google. And I kind of love Christian Kane.
1906 (Now) - San Antonio, Texas
Everything important happens on the hottest day of the year. Every significant memory he has is accompanied by the feel of sweat trickling down the back of his neck, his body slick with it beneath leather and chaps, the brim of his Stetson casting a shadow over his face and shielding his eyes from the brutal rays of the sun. The streets would be dry, horse hooves kicking up clouds of dust, women sitting on the old, creaking chairs on their porches, fanning themselves. The greatest amount of water wouldn’t be enough to quench his thirst, his mouth as dry as the dusty roads. He knows that, once the temperature rises to one hundred degrees, he’ll see him again. He looks up at the sun through the barred window of his prison cell and knows the haze isn’t strong enough yet. But his time is coming soon.
1881 - Twenty-Five Years Ago - Richardson, Texas
Jensen Ackles stood in the back of the courtroom, his hat held in his hands. He took a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably. The room was unbearably hot; the whole of the town was packed into it, though that didn’t include too many people. As far as Jensen was concerned, it was hot enough for just one other person to make the air in the room oppressive. He supposed he should simply be grateful for the fact that he was excused from his ranch hand duties at the Manns farm, as he was sure he would collapse and die of exposure out in the afternoon sun. He half listened as his father presided over the biggest case Richardson had ever seen. He looked around the room and saw every occupant watching the trial with some kind of morbid fascination, every one of them hoping for a lynching.
He supposed he should know more about the man on trial, but Jensen’s childhood had been steeped in law talk, his father’s job a constant topic of conversation in the Ackles household. He’d heard that the man was some sort of high-profile outlaw, finally caught by Sheriff Harris, expected to be put to death as quickly as possible. He’d heard that much until his father had gone on to lecture him on the importance of justice and the law, and then he’d stopped listening. He suspected that his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps, even more so now that Josh had gone and bypassed the law to become the town doctor. Jensen was the only other son; the only other child able to become something and carry his father’s reputation into the next generation. But Jensen had always felt restless watching his father work. It bored him, the idea of sitting in a stuffy courtroom all day. Then again, there wasn’t much else to do in Richardson that could be considered exciting. The only job that was somewhat appealing to Jensen was that of the sheriff, and even that position didn’t see a lot of action in these parts.
“…shall be hanged at three o’clock in the afternoon…”
Jensen’s ears pricked up as they caught those words, and he heard a collective gasp within the room. He surveyed the crowd and gripped his hat tighter, refraining from shaking his head. The people of Richardson may have sounded horrified, but their expressions gave them away, their hunger for fame and death shining in their eyes. He had no doubt that every one of them would be excused from their work to attend the lynching, as well, and they’d all pretend to be shocked as they watched the condemned criminal hang. He moved with the crowd when they rushed outside after the accused had been led out, heading for the prison.
And that was when it happened. With everyone in Richardson packed inside the courtroom, there was no one around to witness the gathering of outlaws on the dusty roads, guns at the ready. Jensen had just stepped outside, fixing his hat back on his head, when the first shots were fired, the shock and horror of the crowd no longer an act as their screams filled the air.
“Jensen!”
He turned at the sound of his name and caught sight of his mother being jostled by the crowd, her eyes wide and panicked. He lunged through the crowd towards her, and she clung to him, the two of them ducking back into the doorway of the courthouse as shots continued to ring out around them. He looked out at the road, dust kicking up as people scattered and ran in no specific direction, the hooves of the criminals’ horses pounding the ground around them. Through the thick of it, he could already see the sheriff’s body on the ground, the sun still able to glint off of his badge. He drew his gaze upward and happened to meet the eyes of one of the outlaws. There was a shine in their dark brown that spoke of both insanity and excitement, and Jensen stood without even realizing it, captivated by the life there. He felt the tug of his mother’s hand on his trousers, saw the outlaw’s gun level at him, but he didn’t move, barely even flinched, when the gun went off, taking his hat clean off his head.
His mother was still screaming his name as he stood there and watched the outlaw turn away, rearing up on his horse, he and his gang whooping victoriously as they rode off down the road, taking the condemned man with them and leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. He watched even after they were gone, sweat trickling down the back of his neck.
“Jensen!”
He blinked as if coming out of a trance and finally turned to his mother, crouching back down beside her. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, and he could feel her sob against him. His eyes fell to the ground behind her and caught on his hat, and he reached past her to lift it in his hands, her arms still holding him close. He saw the hole that was shot straight through the material, and only realized then how fast his heart was beating, suddenly feeling as though it might pound out of his chest. He’d almost died. He’d almost died, and he’d never felt so alive.
Mackenzie’s scream made him jolt, and his mother released him, the two of them looking out at the road. His mother’s cry came next, sounding desperate in his ear. He watched in stunned silence as his sister fell to the ground, dirtying her skirts, her long blonde hair falling over her face to obscure her tears. His brother knelt across from her, their father’s body lain between them.
1886 - Five Years Later - Richardson Texas
Jensen burst through the doors of the saloon, grinning when everyone inside turned to look at him. A number of them grinned back from their old wooden chairs and stools, and he removed his hat, allowing his hair to fall into his eyes. He walked over to the bar, his shiny new badge granting him congratulatory pats on the back and a number of cheers from the people he passed. He laughed, setting his hat down on the bar and turning to face the room.
“Thank you all very kindly,” he said, nodding to all the eyes that were focused on him. “I think you all know how long I’ve been waiting for this. And I think I’ll take a moment to celebrate before I arrest all your sorry asses.” Polite laughter filled the room, and Jensen turned back to the bar, grinning at the bartender. “Fill me up, Jeffrey Dean.”
“Used to be a boy like you would call me Mr. Morgan,” Jeff said, raising an eyebrow and returning Jensen’s smile. “But I guess your new title puts you above that, eh Deputy?”
“Nah, I ain’t above anything, Mr. Morgan,” Jensen said, leaning on the polished wood.
“Don’t,” the bartender said, shaking his head and filling a glass for Jensen, placing it down on the bar with a wink. “Just call me Jeff. And it’s on me.” Jensen nodded his thanks and lifted the glass to his lips. “It’s about damn time you got the badge. Your daddy would’ve been proud.”
“Thanks,” Jensen said, putting his glass down and fighting off his reflexive cringe at hearing those words. His father had wanted him involved with the law, but that wasn’t why Jensen had fought so hard to become Richardson’s deputy, and he doubted his father would be proud of his reasons for choosing the profession. He thought back to the day his father died and the day of his funeral, recalling the feeling of numbness that came before the feeling he’d never admit having to anyone.
Jensen wasn’t a coldhearted person, and family was family. He’d loved his father, just as he loved his mother and siblings. But he’d stood at his father’s gravesite five years ago and felt relieved. There was a certain sense of freedom that came with his father’s passing, knowing that he wouldn’t be pressured and condemned to life in Richardson’s courtroom anymore. He could do what he wanted and strive for something more dangerous and exciting. His mother had pleaded with him to stop; to remain at the Manns farm or do something equally as innocent, her memories of his father and Sheriff Harris dying for their cause all too vivid. But he’d done it. He’d proven himself an excellent tracker and joined the new sheriff in his fight against crime, all because he couldn’t get the image of those free and passionate outlaws out of his head. The shooting five years ago had ruined him and made him yearn for something more, if not just a sliver of that kind of thrill. He figured the badge would get him one step closer and had already participated in a number of chases, firing guns and dodging bullets as if he’d been born to do so.
“Word has it, we may need your help soon,” Jeff said, and Jensen looked up from his drink.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “Why’s that?”
“Well,” Jeff poured himself a drink and took a swig before answering, “There’s this outlaw making a name for himself in other parts of Texas. Some people are saying he might end up here next.”
“You know the name that he’s making for himself?” Jensen asked, already fidgeting in anticipation. Jeff nodded.
“Jared,” he said, and Jensen paused, waiting for more.
“‘Jared’ what?” he asked finally, cocking his head in confusion.
“He doesn’t have a last name,” Jeff answered, shrugging. “At least not one that he gives. He just goes by Jared.”
“Does he work alone?”
****
Jared crouched by the river and splashed the cool water on his face, rubbing it over the back of his neck and leaving the ends of his long hair wet, though they’d already been dampened by sweat. He took a deep breath before standing back up, searching the riverbank. Being on the run was one hell of an adrenaline rush, and he wasn’t about to get caught. Rivers were an obvious attraction. He’d already spent too much time here. He turned away, placing his hat back on his head and heading back for the horses.
“Chad! Jeff!” The men reappeared from their own ventures down to the water, and he nodded at them, pointing at their horses. “Saddle up. We’re moving on. Let’s see what the good folks of Richardson have to give us.”
He mounted his horse and trotted off, his men falling in behind him.
****
Jensen left the saloon and returned to the jailhouse to find Sheriff Beaver waiting for him, leaning into the doorframe, hat low over his eyes. He nodded politely as he removed his own hat and stepped inside, the sheriff following him.
“You drinkin’ on the job, Jensen?”
“Just enough to loosen me up and make me dangerous,” Jensen said, smirking and shrugging, tossing his hat onto the lone table in the room and ignoring the one prisoner held captive in the cell beside it. The sheriff eyed him seriously for a moment and then broke out into a grin.
“Good. Do me a favor and keep an eye on our man, would you?” he nodded towards the occupied cell. “I got some things I gotta do.”
“Sure thing, Jim.”
Jensen sighed as Jim gave a small wave and headed out the door. He looked around the room, and suddenly wished he hadn’t. It was small, only housing three cells along the back wall, the lone table and three rickety wooden chairs placed just outside of the last one. Sunlight filtered through the windows, one tiny one at the back of each cell, the room still dim in the late afternoon. For a moment, he wondered if it was really any better than the old courthouse. But he reminded himself of the criminals he’d apprehended, of the chases he’d been on, the gunfights. That was what he lived for. He reminded himself that it wouldn’t always be like this, sitting in an old dark room and watching over the one lonely prisoner held in Richardson.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, Deputy.”
Jensen turned at the sound of the voice, slowly walking over to the table he’d thrown his hat on and pulling a chair out. He looked into the cell beside him and saw Christian Kane, a well-known but less violent outlaw serving his time, staring back at him.
“Looks like,” Jensen said, sitting down in the chair. “You a talker, Christian?”
“Sometimes.” Christian sat back against the far wall of his cell, staring out at Jensen. His long brown hair brushed his shoulders, blue eyes wild and mischievous, a smile playing on his lips. “Don’t have too much to talk about these days, though. Think I owe that to you. You did a damn good job on the chase.”
“A criminal congratulating me on catching him,” Jensen mused, smirking at the man. “Not something I expected.” Christian shrugged.
“Just tryin’ to make conversation.”
“Right.” Jensen went silent for a moment, idly toying with the hat he’d laid on the table in front of him. He hesitated before he spoke again, doing his best to sound casual. “So what’s it like?”
“What’s what like?” Christian asked, staring back at him before smiling knowingly. “The chase? The life?” He stood and walked to the front of the jail cell, leaning on the bars, eyes still focused on Jensen. “It’s excitin’,” he said, laughing. “You do what I do, you get a rush every damn day. It’s a thrill. And it’s all worth it. Even getting caught.”
“Aren’t you afraid?” Jensen asked, shifting under Christian’s gaze.
“Life is fear,” Christian said, shrugging, his smile fading. “We’re all afraid. Of sickness, of death, of poverty. It’s what you do with the fear that’s important.” His smile slowly grew again. “You call us criminals. Outlaws. Maybe we just know how to live.” There was a beat of silence before Christian spoke again. “Why are you askin’? You curious?”
“Of course not,” Jensen said, a little too quickly. He stared back at Christian with confidence, but he couldn’t deny the way his heartbeat sped up at just the description of Christian’s lifestyle. He bristled when Christian laughed, suddenly aware that the prisoner had flipped a switch inside of him.
“You want more,” Christian said, laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. “I can see it in your eyes. That why you became a Deputy? Think you could get a thrill out of that? Out of this?” He motioned around the room, and Jensen looked away, aware that his hands were shaking. “This is nothing compared to what men like me experience every single day of our lives. You’re on the wrong side of the law, my friend.”
“Shut up!” Jensen spat harshly, standing and turning away. He could feel energy building up inside of him, and he willed it away, shaking his head. He couldn’t possibly agree with this man behind bars. “There’s a reason why you’re locked up and I’m free.”
“You call this free?” Christian laughed again, and Jensen tensed. “Let me tell you something, Deputy. You’re not half as free as I am. But you could be.” Jensen turned back around, and Christian’s smile taunted him. “I know you want it. And from what I’ve seen? From how quick you are, the way you ride, and the way you handle a gun? You’d be good at it.”
Jensen glared at Christian, but those words sunk in and rattled through his brain, repeating themselves over and over again. He sat back down, but turned his face away from the prisoner and kept his gaze averted.
“That’s enough talk for today, Christian.”
“Alright.” Christian pushed off of the bars and walked to the back of his cell, dropping to the floor again and sitting back against the wall. “Just let me know if I can be of any more help to you. I’m sure I can satisfy many of your other curiosities.” Jensen tensed, the tone and meaning of Christian’s words not lost on him.
“I can always find a whore in town,” Jensen growled, somewhat defensively. He saw Christian lean forward out of the corner of his eye.
“You want a real thrill, you don’t go for a whore, son.”
Jensen stiffened, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, conflicting thoughts and emotions swirling around inside. He prayed for some action, a chase, anything to keep his mind from going to forbidden places. He couldn’t possibly be thinking about becoming one of them. He reminded himself that it wouldn’t always be like this, sitting in an old dark room and watching over the one lonely prisoner held in Richardson. But, deep down, he knew that it would be.
****
Jared pulled his hat down low over his face and didn’t have to look to see his brother and Chad doing the same. His reputation was growing, and they knew when they needed to keep a low profile. He grinned, dismounting his horse and tying it just outside the bank, the other two men following suit. Keeping a low profile just before a robbery was usually the way to do it.
“Alright, boys,” Jared said, turning to look at them. “You know the drill.”
“I keep the peace, you get the money, and Jeff plays lookout,” Chad answered, smirking and patting Jeff on the back. Jeff nodded mutely.
“Right, then.” Jared nodded and tipped his hat to his men. “Let’s show Richardson how we do it.”
****
Another day of sitting alone with Christian in the jailhouse had Jensen heaving a sigh, though Christian did still manage to talk his ear off when Jim wasn’t around. He supposed that was better than nothing. Otherwise, he’d go crazy and just end up talking to himself, which would probably lose him his badge. As Christian let a bit of silence drag on in the dim, dusty room, Jensen wondered if losing the badge would really be such a bad thing.
“You look lonely, Jensen,” Christian commented, being serious for once. “Ain’t I keepin’ you good enough company?”
“We on a first name basis?” Jensen asked, half glaring at the man and only receiving a smile in return.
“Alright, then. Deputy. You look lonely.”
“Maybe I’m just bored,” Jensen huffed, leaning back in his chair and sighing. “You ever think of that?”
“Hell, yeah, I’ve thought of it,” Christian laughed, tapping his finger against the bars he sat behind. “How could I not think of it? If anybody’s bored, it’s me. You can at least walk outta here.” Another beat of silence passed before Christian spoke again. “I know the difference between bored and lonely. And you look lonely. Ain’t you got family here? Didn’t I hear Jim saying somethin’ about you bein’ married off to, uh…what was the name? Harris?”
“Yeah,” Jensen grunted, suddenly going tense. “Yeah, the Harris girl. We’re supposed to be a good match. Y’know, ‘cause both of our daddies were shot to death five years ago. Guess that means love.” Christian snickered, and Jensen sighed again, regretting his words slightly and catching Christian’s eye. “She’s a nice girl.”
“But she ain’t your girl,” Christian clarified, blue eyes calm and understanding, and Jensen thought it was frightening just how much the outlaw identified with him. “And your family?”
“They mean well,” Jensen answered, almost immediately, finding himself wondering why he even told Christian so much. But it was easy for him; so much easier than talking to anybody else in this town. “I just feel kinda trapped here, that’s all. Thought the badge would make it better. Hell, it’s only been a couple days. Maybe it will.”
“You don’t believe that,” Christian said, shaking his head, and Jensen had to keep himself from mirroring the motion, the pit in his stomach telling him that no, he didn’t believe it. “You know what the best thing to do is when you feel trapped like that?”
“What?” Jensen scoffed, rolling his eyes at Christian. “Become an outlaw?” Christian grinned.
“You learn real quick, Deputy.”
Jensen’s retort was lost on his tongue when he heard the familiar thump of Jim dismounting his horse just outside the door. The sheriff practically ran into the room, his urgent expression enough to make Jensen jump up out of his seat and grab his hat off the table, quickly jamming it onto his head.
“Get on your horse and follow me, boy,” Jim exhaled in a rush of words, breathing heavily. “We got a robbery!”
“Yes, sir!” Jensen spared a glance at Christian when Jim disappeared out the door, hearing the outlaw chuckle. His blue eyes were wild and mischievous again, lips spreading in a grin.
“Looks like you’re bringin’ me a friend.”
****
Jared leaned forward, riding hard, saddlebag full. He stared ahead with a fierce determination, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“They’re still on us, man!”
“I KNOW!” he shouted back to Chad, turning his head to look at him and then casting a glance back at his brother, whose eyes were wide and fearful. “Don’t worry!” he called over his shoulder, and Jeff’s eyes locked on his. “Nie martw się! We’ll lose them!” He looked past his brother for a moment, to the sheriff and the deputy riding hard behind them, not close enough to take a shot, but not nearly far enough away. The deputy seemed to even be gaining on them, before suddenly veering off in another direction. Jared had a sinking feeling that the man knew this territory much better than he did. “Who the hell is this guy?” Jared muttered under his breath, the wind whipping in his face. No one had ever followed them this far before. Their jobs were quick and easy. He hated to admit it, but things weren’t exactly going according to plan in Richardson, Texas.
He took his men through some twists and turns, his horse snorting its protests even as it kept on. He patted its neck gently, understanding its concerns. They were both somewhat wild and on the run. There were people who said that Jared and his “kind,” usually termed “outlaws,” were just like animals. Jared didn’t necessarily see that as an insult. He continuously looked behind him as they made their escape, finally breathing a sigh of relief when they lost the sheriff, the man not even within eyesight anymore. He eased up a bit on his horse, feeling as though enough time had passed. If the deputy was going to catch them, he would’ve done so by now.
“Whoa…” Jared pulled back on the reins and the horse stopped on a dime by a small outcropping, whinnying almost gratefully. “Yeah, yeah. I know, girl. Good job.” He hopped down off of the animal, Chad and Jeff just catching up and following suit, jumping swiftly to the ground. He smiled at them, trying to keep confident, even as his brother trembled and Chad shook his head.
“That was too close, Jared,” Chad said, taking his hat off and wiping at the sweat trickling down his forehead. “We almost didn’t make it.”
“Come on,” Jared scoffed, though his chest constricted a little when he glanced over at Jeff. “They’ll never catch us.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Jared.”
Jared flinched and then froze at the sound of the voice, watching as Chad’s eyes went wide and Jeff started trembling a little more, both of them focused on the person who’d managed to sneak up behind him, undoubtedly appearing from behind the outcropping.
“You better put your hands where I can see ‘em,” the voice growled. “I ain’t got no problem shootin’ an outlaw.” Jared stiffened when he felt the barrel of a gun press to the back of his neck. “I mean it. No quick moves. You ain’t that good, or I wouldn’t have caught you.” The gun was removed. “Turn around.”
Jared turned slowly, making a point to sneer as he did so. He caught the shine of the deputy’s badge as he did, eyes moving up to search out his face. He was glaring with hatred at the man, body tensed and ready for action. His heart was pounding in his chest again, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was aware that he could die if he made a move, but he’d do anything to keep Jeff and Chad from going to jail. If anything, he could somehow manage to take the deputy with him.
He startled a bit when he met the deputy’s eyes, a bright, passionate green found there. The look in them wasn’t much different from what he felt and what he saw in the eyes of others like him, but not quite as intense. There was a world in those eyes, a plethora of emotions. They were strong and excited, but lost and restless. They were simultaneously joyful and pained. And, when they focused on his, they widened a bit in wonder. There was a fascination there that Jared couldn’t explain, and then a slight dulling of color; a sudden hesitation and conflict.
They stared at each other for a moment, not one of the four men standing there moving a muscle. Jared took in the features beneath the dusty cowboy hat: long dirty blonde hair, wide green eyes, full lips, a couple days’ stubble, and a strong, sharp jaw line. He wasn’t sure if he was glaring anymore, and had to remind himself that he was supposed to hate the man that he was now considering beautiful. And he tried to. He tried to, until the deputy slowly lowered his gun and stepped away, eyes darting back and forth and then lowering.
“Get the hell outta here.” Jared stood dumbly for a moment, cocking his head. They’d been caught, fair and square by the first person who was finally able to catch them. Jared had a reputation. There was no way in hell anybody would ever voluntarily let him and his men go. “You fuckin’ deaf, friend?” the deputy growled, anger lighting a green fire in his eyes. “I told you to get the hell outta here. Now!”
Jared didn’t have to be told more than twice. He turned and nodded back to Jeff and Chad, who quickly mounted their horses and began to ride off. Jared followed behind them for the first time in a long time, mounting his horse and sparing one last glance at the deputy, who looked back at him with eyes that spoke of both envy and depression, before galloping away.
****
Jensen watched Jared and his men ride away until they were nothing but specks on the horizon and sighed, suddenly feeling lonelier than he ever had in his life. A deep despair crawled into his chest and stayed there, and for just a split second, the crazy thought entered his mind to mount his own horse and follow Jared off into the sunset, leaving his badge in the dust. He shook his head, trying to clear his brain of such nonsense. Such things were supposed to be wrong and forbidden. Normal men didn’t long for the life of an outlaw. He’d just have to accept that he wasn’t normal, and that he’d never be happy. He had to settle for what he had here, in Richardson.
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, still able to smell the men and their horses, and reliving the last few moments. He remembered the sweat trickling down his neck, the dryness of his mouth, and the thrill of the chase, even in the brutal heat. He remembered the feeling that his victory gave him, his patience paying off as he caught the man rumored to be the next most wanted outlaw of the land. He remembered how powerful he felt when Jared surrendered to him.
And he remembered how powerless he felt when his eyes met Jared’s. His confidence and bravado were nothing but a mere imitation of Jared’s. There was so much life in Jared’s stormy hazel eyes; so much experience that Jensen would never have. They were Christian Kane’s wild eyes multiplied a million times over. Jared’s face was burned into his mind: unruly brown hair and bangs sticking out from beneath his hat, narrowed hazel eyes, reddened cheeks, and clenched jaw. There was something about Jared, something that Jensen couldn’t just lock up in a prison cell. In Christian’s words, he wasn’t half as free as Jared was, and Jensen had somehow decided that a man like Jared deserved that freedom.
Jensen opened his eyes and stared out into the space that Jared and his men had ridden off into, something inside of him throbbing with a pain he couldn’t describe. He hung his head and turned to walk back to where he’d left his horse. Once he returned to the jailhouse empty-handed, the pain would only get worse.
****
Jared sat in front of the fire with Jeff and Chad, emptying out the saddlebags to count their stolen goods. They hadn’t spoken much since they’d left Richardson, a certain tension rising between the three of them.
“Why did he let us go?” Chad asked quietly, finally breaking the silence. “There’s just no reason for it.” Jared sighed, dropping the money he held in his hands.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. Chad frowned, and Jared bristled at the feeling it gave him, as though his authority and skill could suddenly be questioned, now that they’d come close to being caught. He looked over at Jeff, who held the same question in his eyes and softened his gaze. “Nie znam.”
“I don’t like it,” Chad said, crossing his legs where he sat on the ground. “What if he had a reason? What if someone else is tailing us, waiting to catch us, and that’s why he let us go?”
“No,” Jared said, shaking his head. “That’s not it.”
“How can you be so sure?” Chad asked, narrowing his eyes. “You just admitted you don’t know what’s goin’ on. You sure as hell didn’t see that deputy comin’ when he snuck up on you. How do you know we’re safe now?”
“I just do,” Jared growled, glaring at his friend. “Have you ever questioned me before?”
“No, but you’ve never gotten us caught before,” Chad retorted, staring back at Jared steadily.
Jared angrily got to his feet and walked a few paces away, his back to their camp. As much as he wanted to lash out at Chad, he knew that Chad was right. He had no excuse for what had happened in Richardson, and he couldn’t explain why the deputy had let them go. But he could still picture the man’s face when he closed his eyes, and he knew that there was no ulterior motive there. There was something else, something Jared couldn’t identify, and he found himself wanting to see the man again. He’d never wanted to revisit any of their old stops along the way or cared so much about a stranger, let alone a stranger originally set out to catch or kill him.
He shook his head, knowing that the idea of going back to Richardson was damn near lunacy. He was just shaken by the days’ events and needed to get his head back on straight. He’d forget all about that haunted deputy soon enough. He turned back to the fire, to Chad silently sulking and Jeff staring at him worriedly.
“Nie martw się,” he said quietly, sitting down next to his brother and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Nie martw się.”
****
“I thought you knew exactly where to head them off?”
“I thought I did, too, Jim, but they must’ve gone another way!”
“They were headed right for it, Jensen! I lost sight of ‘em, sure, but they should’ve been there!”
“Okay, then they outrode me.”
“Outrode you? No one can outride you!”
“What are you saying, Jim? I don’t know what else to tell you! Guess I’m just not perfect, after all! As if I haven’t done enough for this damn town!”
At that, Jim stormed out of the jailhouse, off to calm the angry mob gathering on the streets, the citizens demanding an answer for Jared’s escape with their money. Jensen sighed, dropping his head in his hands, and falling back into the chair he’d occupied for the past couple of days.
“Guess I’m not gettin’ a friend, after all,” Christian said, his tone oddly serious. Jensen glanced over at him and groaned at the knowing look he held in his eyes. “You let them go?” Jensen didn’t answer. He just shook his head, though he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t denying it, really, but he supposed it worked to lament his current situation. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Jensen answered, hanging his head in defeat. “I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lock him up. He shouldn’t be locked up.” He caught Christian raising his eyebrows in curiosity out of the corner of his eye, but the outlaw didn’t press the issue. Jensen figured he probably knew the answer, anyway. Christian Kane seemed to be a goddamned mind reader.
Jensen closed his eyes, once again reliving the moments of the chase, of catching and releasing Jared. Wild hazel eyes haunted him, and when he opened his own eyes again, he found that he hated the sight of the jailhouse even more than he had before.
1889 - Three Years Later - Richardson, Texas
Jensen burst through the doors of the saloon, eyes fixed on the floor. Everyone inside was watching him. He could feel their eyes on him as he walked to the bar, the scene oddly reminiscent of the one three years ago. But they weren’t smiling at him or congratulating him this time. They just watched him pass in judgment, and he tried to physically shrug their inner criticisms off of his shoulders. They weren’t looking at his face. He knew that much. They were looking at the space where his badge had been, nothing striking or shiny to make him stand out or give him power anymore. Not that the badge had ever meant power. The badge was just another set of restraints in this town. He’d learned that the hard way.
“Fill me up, Jeffrey Dean.” The bartender nodded silently, filling up a glass and sliding it across the bar to him. He didn’t manage to crack a smile until he felt a familiar presence beside him, an arm sliding around his shoulders. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you lived here, Christian.”
“Guess the bottle’s my weakness,” Christian said, smiling back at him. “Guess I can’t call you Deputy anymore.”
“Nope.” Jensen tensed, reaching for his glass and swallowing down as much as he could in one gulp, thumping it back down on the bar when he was done. “Guess it’s just Jensen now.”
“And ain’t that the way it should be?” Christian asked. Jensen shrugged, but couldn’t help smiling again. He guessed he’d spent too many days trapped in the jailhouse with Christian, but he’d grown to love the way the man made everything sound. Others always viewed people like Christian in a negative light, but everything the guy said sounded so damn positive. Jensen was really beginning to think that outlaws weren’t so bad, and his tendency to keep their company and spend more time at the saloon had led to his loss of the badge. And yet, while he was somewhat bitter, he felt a bit of the same relief he’d felt when his father had died. “No titles,” Christian continued. “No definitions, expectations. You’re just you. You’re free.”
“Yeah, well, I still have my family to deal with.” He scoffed a bit, tossing back the rest of the burning liquid in his glass. “Though they’ve sorta disowned me. Hell, guess I am free.”
“And isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”
Jensen didn’t answer Christian’s question. He sat there, silent and thinking, wondering what would become of him. His family was good and proper, trying to distance themselves from him and keep their reputations clean. He was no longer a good match for the Harris girl, her hand in marriage promised to another man. His own reputation was shot to hell. Sure, he was free, but where would he go? What would he do?
****
Richardson, Texas. Jared tied his horse outside the saloon and took a deep breath, pulling his hat down low and looking around. It had been three years since he’d been there, but he was still a well-known outlaw. Coming to Richardson was a risk, and he knew it. Chad and Jeff had pleaded with him to forget about it, but he couldn’t. In the end, he’d left them behind, running to Richardson solo. He hadn’t been able to forget the deputy since he’d left, and he’d waited long enough for most of the local heat to wear off. Hell, he felt like he’d waited too long. He felt a rush, almost like the adrenaline of a chase. He fidgeted in anticipation, unsure of what he’d even do or say to the man. It wasn’t often a man like himself actively pursued a man of the law. But this one was different.
He walked into the saloon, carefully glancing around as he made his way to the bar, wondering how he’d go about getting information on where to find the deputy without being recognized or having everyone point him to the obvious, which was the jailhouse: the one place he absolutely couldn’t visit. He wondered for a moment if Jeff and Chad had been right, and he really had lost his mind. And then those green eyes met his for the first time in three years, and he sucked in a breath, finally ceasing his movement forward. The deputy’s eyes widened, and he quickly excused himself from the conversation he’d been having with the long-haired man next to him. Jared flinched when the deputy suddenly grabbed him by the arm and turned him around, hurriedly rushing him back outside.
“What are you doing here?” the deputy hissed, his voice low, and Jared could see the way the man’s chest rose and fell a little too quickly, his green eyes sparking and just a bit hopeful. He also noted the absence of the deputy’s badge, his curiosity peaked.
“I…” Jared choked on his words, unable to think of an explanation for his sudden appearance. “You’re not wearing your badge,” he said instead, and the deputy’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m not a deputy anymore,” he said, though his voice lacked the disappointment Jared felt most men would have over the loss of their jobs, and Jared smiled slightly.
“I’d say I was sorry, but then I’m always relieved to have one less lawman around. So what do I call you?”
“Jensen,” the man huffed, though he was clearly fighting a smile of his own. “Who says you’ll be callin’ me anything, anyway? You should be gettin’ outta here. Thought you were gone for good.”
“Why are you helping me?” Jared asked, blurting the question out before he’d even thought about it. Jensen’s eyes dodged his, glancing around them and lowering to the ground. “Why did you let us go back then?”
“I can’t say why,” Jensen said honestly, still not looking at him. “I can’t admit to it. I can’t…” He trailed off for a moment, shaking his head, his expression solemn. “I just can’t.”
“Why not?”
It was a simple question, but the way Jensen looked at him, it was like Jared was his own personal savior; like those two words suddenly meant so much to him. He started nodding, almost to himself.
“Why not,” Jensen repeated, more of a statement than a question. “Why not.”
****
Two words had never meant so much to Jensen in his life. Why not? It was like Christian had said. Nothing was holding him back anymore. And seeing Jared again had brought Jensen back to that day; to watching Jared and his men ride off into the sunset and wishing he could join them. To be in the saloon and suddenly see Jared standing there after three years was like a gift. If he’d ever had a calling, he felt that this was it.
But he couldn’t possibly tell Jared that. He couldn’t just invite himself into Jared’s life, as much as he wanted to. He wanted to grab Jared and say, “Listen, I’m on your side. Take me back with you.” But he held back, hesitating. Why would Jared even trust him to lead him to wherever he and his men were hiding out at the time? Jared probably didn’t even want him around.
And yet, Jared was here, seeking him out. Jensen never thought he’d see the day that that happened. He fidgeted a little, suddenly unsure of himself. An awkward silence drifted between them until Jared moved towards his horse, finally speaking up.
“You know, you were damn good that day,” Jared said, untying his horse. “Shame to waste your talents bein’ a good citizen of Richardson.” He paused and looked at Jensen meaningfully, eyes piercing straight through him as a mischievous grin lit up his face. “If you wanted to get outta here, you could just follow me.”
Jensen remained silent, staring dumbly as he watched Jared mount his horse, sweat trickling down his neck. He continued staring as Jared slowly moved away from the saloon, setting his horse at a light, hypnotic pace, his shadow thrown on the ground by the blazing sun. He never heard Christian moving through the swinging doors of the saloon and moving up behind him, jolting when he was suddenly slapped on the back.
“You think I don’t know who that is?” Christian drawled, nodding towards Jared’s slowly retreating form. “What happened?”
“He…” Jensen stuttered and paused, coming out of his stupor. “He said I could follow him.” Christian gripped him by the shoulders and turned him around, bright blue eyes focusing on his own.
“Then what the hell are you waiting for?”
Part 2