Forty-Three Days (6/9)
Nov. 19th, 2008 10:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
timehasa_wayChapter 1: Sound and Vision
Chapter 2: Blood and Dust
Chapter 3: Cereal and Stitches
Chapter 4: Breakfast and Bathrooms
Chapter 5: Doctors and Bracelets
Chapter 6: Words and Knives
Jared wasn’t sure why those six little words Jensen had thrown at him had felt like a slap in the face. He hadn’t expected to feel them so deeply; to feel rejected. A small part of him panicked, irrationally thinking that Jensen somehow knew about what he’d done the night before. But that was impossible, and Jensen’s actual reasoning was so much easier to accept after he pushed those thoughts away. It was still disappointing, but he could deal with it. Who was he to refuse Jensen what he needed in order to heal after all this stress?
And yet he knew that, when Jensen moved out, he’d feel like he’d lost a limb. He knew that he’d stumbled onto something inside of himself that he hadn’t realized was there. He was slowly beginning to acknowledge it, but wasn’t quite all the way there, yet. He was holding it off, partly because he felt stupid for not seeing it before. If there was something this massive, this huge inside of him, how could he have missed it? How could he possibly have missed something that even fans were picking up on? That made the whole thing seem ridiculous, and it was Jared’s one last shred of denial. He clung to it, not yet ready to let it go.
He spent the rest of the day with Jensen, the two of them battling with controllers in their hands for the most part. Things got quiet, except for the noises of the video game on screen, and Jared fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence between them. He brightened, thinking of something that would lift both of their spirits.
“Hey, we should figure out what we’re doing next weekend!”
“What?” Jensen glanced over at him in confusion. “Why? What’s next weekend?”
Jared looked over at Jensen and laughed, expecting Jensen to quirk an eyebrow or something. But Jensen turned a serious questioning gaze on him, and Jared’s character fell off a cliff. He chided himself for being hurt at all, knowing that it was childish and that he shouldn’t take it this seriously. With everything going on, he couldn’t possibly expect Jensen to be able to focus on something so trivial.
“’S’my birthday, dude.” He offered Jensen a small smile when he saw Jensen’s face fall. Jensen had completely forgotten. “It’s okay.” He turned his eyes back on the screen, starting up a new game. “We don’t have to do anything. We’ve got too much going on as it is.”
“I’m sorry, man, I wasn’t even thinking,” Jensen said. And Jared felt horrible for even bringing it up, because Jensen looked positively stricken with guilt.
“Dude, don’t be. It’s no big deal. We can always celebrate it later. Besides,” he said, grinning widely, “I already knew my present would be coming late this year, anyway.”
“Really?” Jensen cocked his head and smirked at him, and he nodded.
“Yeah, man.” Jared looked down at his controller, chewing his bottom lip for a few seconds, the mood suddenly a lot more serious than he’d meant for it to be. He wondered how much he could say without giving himself away or being too fucking girly. “Look, I don’t even want anything this year. Not really. The only thing I want for my birthday is you.” He kept his gaze on the controller, his hands beginning to shake a little. “I just want you, alive and safe. That’s all that matters. With everything that’s happening…Parties, cakes, and gifts, and shit? They don’t mean anything. We do it every year, and it doesn’t even matter. But this year…The only thing that will mean anything to me this year is saving you. And when we get there in a couple of weeks, that’s all I’ll need. Just to know we saved your life. I mean, that’s one hell of a birthday present.”
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Jensen couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. He wasn’t sure how the conversation ended, or if he’d even said anything in response to Jared. He wasn’t sure how the rest of the day went, if they’d even talked about anything else before once again heading to bed. It would concern him, make him wonder how much control he’d lost over Jensen Two, but he was positive he’d remember a confrontation with Jared over that, if it happened. He felt frozen and numb for a long time, up until the next day, when he ended up in his trailer alone, Jared off filming a scene with Genevieve. And the only thing he felt then was deep, severe self-loathing.
He sat on the floor of his trailer, staring at the Hellhound standing in front of him, glaring and growling. It was closer than ever, and he willed the power of the beads he was wearing to fail completely, like he knew they would. He really wanted it now, craved it more than anything, and knew he deserved it. He’d already lost his faith, had already grown tired of living, and, by mistakenly deciding to keep on living for what he thought would be the benefit of his friend, he’d become a completely horrible person. He was ruining Jared, hurting and failing him.
“Take me,” he whispered quietly, locking eyes with the Hellhound. “Just fucking take me.”
When he finally stood up, he walked over to his dartboard, suddenly reminded of how he’d somewhat subconsciously taken the goofer dust and Devil’s Shoestring from set, back when he was still in denial but, on some level, felt like he might need it later. He stared at the knives lodged in his dartboard, somewhat subconsciously reaching up and pulling one of the knives out of the wood, almost surprised to find it resting in the palm of his hand a minute later.
When Jared burst through the door to announce that he was needed on set, Jensen quickly shoved the knife into his pocket before it could be seen.
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Jared noticed a change in Jensen, but figured it was normal. Jensen becoming quieter and more withdrawn was something that usually happened at this point in the season. It was early, but not early enough for there to still be the same amount of wide-eyed excitement that they always shared upon first starting a new season. It was just that point where excitement and anxiety were waning a bit. Not that they weren’t always happy and excited with each new script they got. But the novelty was wearing off, and the hours were just beginning to settle in enough to start to wear on them. Eventually, that would wear off, too, as they got used to the routine of it. But this was the point where some amount of fatigue usually set in, the two of them dealing with it in their own ways. Jensen’s way was usually to become a bit more of a loner and try to sleep as much as possible. And it was bound to be doubled this time around, what with the problem they were already working around.
Of course, part of Jared worried that Jensen might also be acting that way because he could sense the changes taking place in Jared. But he hoped that that wouldn’t scare his friend off, and did his best to give Jensen his space. When they had a break on set, and Jensen immediately strode off to his trailer for a nap, Jared let him go without a word. When they walked into the house after a long day at work, and Jensen immediately headed for the stairs to hop into bed, Jared again let him go without a word. Jared figured it was best to just let Jensen settle into the season. That way, things could get better sooner, rather than later.
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It was halfway through the week when Jensen started thinking that, if he went through with it, maybe he should do it on set. He sat in his trailer, knife pulled from his pocket and settled in his hand. He watched it, moving his palm back and forth, light glinting off of the knife at various points. If he went through with it, and if he did it on set, then he wouldn’t have to do it in Jared’s house.
Jensen actually smirked when he thought about what would happen if he finished himself off right there, in his trailer, with the knife. It would be the perfect setup for one of those horrible television specials about stars who offed themselves because they couldn’t handle their fame or their characters. Everybody would talk about how they “never saw it coming,” and how Jensen was such a joy to be around. Of course, they’d be talking about Jensen Two. But then, they’d never know that. And then someone would undoubtedly bring up some stupid fact that would prove that there was some sort of “dark side” to Jensen that people hadn’t noticed. That fact maybe even being that he threw knives in his trailer. Everybody would say, “We thought he was just extremely dedicated, but it was more than that.” And they would all nod and think they were right, because he of course killed himself with one of those very knives. There would be articles and biographies about just how messed up he really was, all because he threw knives in his trailer.
And he realized that that was better than anything else that would happen. He was going to die. The Hellhound practically riding his ass now proved that. If he died the kind of death the Hellhounds had planned for him, it would have to be seen as murder. And what then? A constant, unending search to find some nonexistent psycho who’d murdered Jensen Ackles in the same fashion Dean Winchester had died in the season three finale? His parents on TV, pleading with the public to help them find whoever had murdered their son? And what about after that? Would the cops arrest some poor bastard who didn’t deserve anything that was happening to him? And what about Jared?
What about Jared? It was then that Jensen realized that Jared and people close to him in the Supernatural cast and crew would probably be prime suspects. Shit, if he died like that in Jared’s house? He imagined Jared arrested, in jail, on trial. God forbid he’d ever get convicted. And, even if he didn’t, his reputation would be shattered. For the rest of his life, Jared would be seen as the man who possibly got away with murdering his supposed best friend and costar.
If Jensen went through with this, he’d be doing everyone a favor. He’d fucked things up enough in life. He didn’t have to fuck things up even more in death.
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Jared walked into his trailer, holding the door open for Jim, who came in behind him. He reached over, turned the TV on, and grabbed a couple of bottles of water out of his mini-fridge. He handed one over to Jim, and they both took a seat. Jared stared at the TV screen, but didn’t really comprehend what was on it, feeling Jim’s eyes on him.
“Jensen’s been napping a lot,” Jim commented, taking a sip of his water. “Seems like he’s been off in that trailer of his every chance he’s gotten all week. Is he alright?”
“Yeah,” Jared said, shrugging it off. “Yeah, he’s fine. Just tired, you know? He always gets this way at this point. It gets better as time goes on.”
“There’s been a lot of talk, lately, here on set,” Jim continued, and Jared turned to face him. “Nothing bad, really, just concern. After the summer, everybody’s worried about him. And you two aren’t as goofy as you usually are. Still goofy enough,” Jim offered, and Jared smiled a bit, thankful for the lightening of the mood. “Just not as much as usual.”
“We’re alright,” Jared said, hesitating a bit, and not wanting to give too much away. “Jensen just had some personal stuff to deal with over the summer, and I’ve been trying to help him out with it. It can be kinda hard,” he admitted, thinking back to the times when he feared for Jensen’s sanity, and Jim nodded his head sympathetically. “But, you know, everyone has rough patches. We’re doing fine, though. He’ll pull through.” He smiled uncertainly when Jim stared at him for a minute.
“Kid, most of the time, you’re trouble. But you’re also a complete sap,” Jim said finally, and Jared laughed. “But I’m glad to hear it.”
“Aww, Jim,” Jared teased, leaning over and laying his head on Jim’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you cared!”
“Please,” Jim retorted, not bothering to even try pushing Jared away. “I was just asking for everybody else. Never said I cared.”
“Hey!” Jensen suddenly opened the door of the trailer and stuck his head on. “Just got a knock on my door.” He paused, smirking at the two of them. “Quit cuddling. They finally got the panic room set up. We finish this, and we’re done.”
“You’re just jealous,” Jared said, raising his head in the air as he stood to leave the trailer, leaving his unopened bottle of water behind.
Jared wasn’t sure why he hadn’t been expecting something as they walked to the set together. It was the last day of the working week, and his birthday was the next day. Something was bound to happen. But Jim opening the door to the panic room in front of them only to find it bursting with balloons was the last thing he’d expected to see. He laughed and grinned brightly as the crew burst out into a rowdy rendition of “Happy Birthday,” noting that both Jensen and Jim seemed just as surprised as he was. It was times like those when Jared thanked God for being able to work with the best crew in the world. He’d really miss working on Supernatural when it ended. The crazy hours were worth it.
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Jensen made sure to wish Jared a happy birthday when he woke the next morning, trying his best to be genuinely excited for his friend. He’d already agreed the night before to go out and celebrate with some of the crew. Jared had protested, said he didn’t have to go, that even Jared would stay in, and it was no big deal. But Jared deserved to be happy, have fun, and have a good birthday. Jensen guessed that that was his gift to Jared this year. It wasn’t enough to make up for everything he’d fucked up already, but it was something. He shushed all of Jared’s, “Look, we don’t have to. I can call and say we can’t make it,” statements, and they went out.
The bar wasn’t one the two of them usually frequented on weekends, but one that the guys in the crew knew of. It was louder, rowdier, and possibly better for partying, if you were up for it. Jensen’s excuse for not getting a bit rowdy himself was that he was the designated driver, insisting on driving there in Jared’s Denali. Jared had objected, telling Jensen that he should be able to have fun, too, and “since when do we not have both of us get trashed on one of our birthdays?” But Jensen just smiled Jensen Two’s smile and told Jared that he was his chauffeur for the night.
The truth was that Jensen, while relieved that Jared was able to get out and have some fun, finally couldn’t fake it anymore. He couldn’t be that happy. It was too much. He could fake enough to deflect Jared’s worried and guilty glances every so often. But he couldn’t join in with the crowd, laughing and shouting and partying as if he was really still alive. Those days were over for him, and he didn’t care enough to keep that much of a façade in place. It was hard enough doing what he was doing, feeling like he was killing Jared’s happiness every time Jared looked over to make sure he was okay. It honestly felt like he was killing Jared in general. Thankfully, Jared eventually let go and downed enough shots to make Dean proud, happy and lit, reminding everyone ten million times that, “Heyyy, guys…iz mah berfday!”
Jared passed out in the passenger seat of the Denali almost as soon as he’d climbed in, and Jensen had to practically carry his ass into the house, Jared only waking enough to slur out a, “Thanks, man,” with breath that made Jensen’s eyes tear. Jensen had half a mind to drag Jared upstairs and let him have the bed that night. But it seemed like a physically impossible feat, and he knew Jared would kill him for it in the morning.
Jensen made sure the dogs were taken care of and let them out into the yard, thankful that he could still get them to come in on his own, though they did still keep a good distance away from him. He climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom, exhausted and fed up with his life. He was all too aware of the knife he now had hidden in the carry-on still sitting in the room. He collapsed on the bed, not bothering to get undressed, and thought about it. It wasn’t like it wouldn’t be good timing, with Jared passed out on the couch. He felt the barest twinge of guilt for thinking about doing it on Jared’s birthday, though. He closed his eyes, letting himself mull it over some more.
“Jensen?”
Jensen’s head snapped up to see Jared in the doorway, opening the once closed door. He rubbed his eyes, cursing when he realized he’d left his contacts in.
“You okay?” Jared asked.
“Yeah, man, I’m fine. What are you do-” Jensen cut himself off when he saw something fall from above the doorway and land on the floor. He watched as Jared looked down at it, and then looked back up at Jensen, enough moonlight in the room to show the fear on Jared’s face.
“Jensen!” Jared shouted, rushing over to him. And that’s when Jensen saw that it was the Devil’s Shoestring fallen from above the door, the goofer dust beginning to thin out as it was blown away by some supernatural force, and the Hellhound rushing at him.
He didn’t think he could still feel anything after he’d accepted and expected this for so long, but the sight of the Hellhound actually springing for him sent fear and adrenaline down his spine, his heart hammering in his chest, and he instinctively scooted back up the bed, away from it. But he guessed that that was what instincts were for; that this was just what people did when they were being attacked by something as fearsome as a Hellhound.
Jared was suddenly in front of him, pushing him back further, urging him on, and trying to keep him safe. Jared was half turned away from him, following Jensen’s gaze to where the Hellhound was, invisible to Jared, his hand on Jensen’s shoulder, still pushing. And Jensen never saw it coming; never in a million years thought he’d see the Hellhound’s claws tear into Jared’s body as it lunged for him, Jared screaming in pain and shock as deep, bloody gashes appeared down the front of his torso. The force of it knocked Jared back into Jensen, and Jensen could see and feel the warmth of Jared’s blood soaking into his clothes, the sheets.
“NOOOOOOOO!!” Jensen screamed, tears already falling, his scream drowned out by another one of Jared’s, as the Hellhound tore into him again. “JARED!” he screamed again, this time through heart-wrenching sobs. “NO! STOP! NOT HIM! YOU CAN’T KILL HIM! YOU CAN’T!”
Jensen tried to grab onto Jared, tried to force Jared out of the way, but the power of the Hellhound was unstoppable, the beast finally tossing Jared aside on the bed. Jensen threw himself towards Jared, falling just short, but could only see Jared’s bloody body, eyes staring lifelessly up at the ceiling.
“Jared!” Jensen cried out, sobbing as tears blurred his vision. He didn’t even feel the Hellhound’s claws plunging into his own body, didn’t even hear it growling anymore, not even caring what it was doing to him. “JARED! NO!”
“NO!” Jensen shot straight up into a sitting position on the bed. “NO!” He looked around frantically, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He froze in fear in confusion, having trouble breathing with the lump in his throat.
Jared wasn’t there. There was no Hellhound. The dust was still in place. So was the Devil’s Shoestring. He drew in a deep, rattling breath. It was a dream. It was all a fucking dream. He let the breath out, sounding close to a sob, and ran trembling fingers through his hair. He blinked a few times, realizing he had left his contacts in, and immediately reached for the case by the side of the bed so that he could remove them, slipping his glasses on afterwards. He held his head in his hands, rocking back and forth a few times, closing his eyes and reliving what he’d just seen, and suddenly had the urge to get out of bed and check on Jared.
Jensen stood, stepping over the circle and leaving the room, eyeing the Hellhound waiting in the hallway. He shakily descended the stairs, his shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked body. He halted at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the railing, as tears filled his vision at the sight of Jared, asleep and safe on the couch, where Jensen had left him. Forcing the tears back, he crossed the room to the couch, standing over Jared and watching the rise and fall of his chest, the peaceful look on his face. Suddenly, he needed to touch him, make sure he was real, and he tentatively reached out a hand and gently brushed Jared’s hair back off of his forehead. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, swallowing over and over again against the lump in his throat, his legs feeling weak where he stood. He couldn’t explain what he’d felt when he’d looked at Jared in that moment. It was beyond anything like relief, and it shocked him, as he hadn’t felt anything like it in what seemed like a lifetime.
But it was gone as quickly as it came, and he knew what he had to do now. That was it; the final straw. He quietly turned and headed back for the stairs.
“Jensen?”
Jared’s voice was gravelly and deep, filled with sleep, and it stopped Jensen in his tracks. He took a deep breath to compose himself and turned around to see Jared looking up at him, rubbing at his eyes. He looked so young when he did that.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking on you, asshole,” Jensen said softly, the words missing a bit of Jensen Two’s usual sarcastic bite. “Making sure you’re alright and not puking in your sleep.”
“‘M fine,” Jared yawned, stretching out on the couch. “‘M hungry. ‘N’ my mouth is dry,” he complained, smacking his lips together for emphasis.
“You should probably get yourself hydrated,” Jensen said, forcing the words out. He didn’t want Jared to be awake now, damnit. But Jared was up and about in the kitchen in a matter of minutes, and Jensen was once again cursing the man’s ability to completely lack a hangover or any after effects of alcohol once he’d garnered a couple hours of sleep.
“Want anything?” Jared asked, returning with a bag of chips and a glass of water, the dogs lifting their heads and eyeing him in confusion.
“No, thanks,” Jensen said politely, shifting on his feet. He had to get away, and he had to do it now. “I think I’m gonna get a shower,” he blurted out, and Jared cocked his head and stared at him.
“Now?” Jared asked.
“Yeah,” Jensen shrugged, “Why not? I’m all sweaty and shit. I’m gross.”
Jensen went for the stairs when Jared nodded, trying to rush without looking like he was rushing for the bedroom, leaving his glasses on the nightstand and grabbing for his carry-on. He jumped when the light suddenly came on, and spun around to find Jared behind him, bag of chips still in hand.
“Dude, chill,” Jared said, eyes wide, free hand held up. “It’s just me, man. I just realized these sheets could use changing. I haven’t done it in forever. Must be driving you nuts to sleep in that shit.”
“No,” Jensen replied, trying not to sound desperate. “Dude, you don’t have to do that now.”
“It’s fine.” Jared shrugged, setting the chips down on the nightstand and brushing the crumbs off of his hands. “I’ll just do it while you’re in the shower. I’m pretty awake now, anyways. Go ahead.”
Jensen nodded and grabbed his bag, hauling it into the bathroom with him and closing the door. He dropped the bag on the floor, numbly undressing and pulling out the toiletries he’d need for a shower. He wasn’t sure why he did it, because this part of the charade really didn’t matter, did it? It wasn’t like Jared would see it. But he did it, anyway, moving mechanically, all too aware of Jared in the next room.
He reached behind the curtain and turned the water on before digging deeper in his bag and pulling out the knife, as if it would make some sort of sound he’d have to drown out, so that Jared wouldn’t hear. He stepped into the shower, drawing the curtain closed behind himself, the silhouette of the Hellhound outlined from the opposite side.
And then he felt oddly calm and isolated, the smooth blade in his hand, the water raining down on him. He crouched down under the spray, and turned his left wrist upward, gazing down at it and rolling the bracelet down out of the way. He held the knife against it, just testing himself, staring at the contrast between his pale skin and the silver steel blade. What was it Dean had said last season? In the episode with the witches? “Three vertical, on each wrist. She wasn’t playing around.” He was surprised when, just as in his dream, he felt a bit of fear creeping into his system. But, again, he put that down to instincts. He figured that no one, even those in his position, had ever not been at least a little bit afraid the minute before their death. It was only natural. But he knew that this was the only way. It had to be. He’d thought it out too much for it to be wrong.
Jensen’s thoughts caught up with him as they had a habit of doing lately. He became tangled in their web, thinking of all the reasons why this was the right thing to do, and why it all made sense. One of those reasons was the Hellhound behind the curtain. He already knew he was going to die. He could sense it, taste it, feel it. Comic Con was too far away for Jared’s plan to even work. And who wanted to die the way Dean had? Maybe suicide wasn’t painless, but it was certainly less torturous than being ripped to shreds by a Hellhound. Any sane person would do exactly what Jensen was doing right now.
Then there was Hell. Jared had told him the fans couldn’t possibly have the ability to send him to Hell, but what did Jared know? And if being killed by the Hellhound that was mistakenly after him was a one-way ticket to Hell…What if the Hellhound never got to him? If he died before the undeserved Hellhound was unleashed on him, maybe he’d…Well, he didn’t know where he’d be. He’d lost his faith in God before they’d even started filming. Maybe he’d just be nothing; just pure nothing. Maybe that was what happened to people who weren’t destined for Hell when they died. Maybe they were just gone. And Jensen was fine with that. He was already nothing, anyway. And if he could escape an eternity of torture, why wouldn’t he? Again, any sane person in his position would do the same thing. Right?
He rethought everything he’d already thought about: what he’d been doing to Jared and everyone else, how much he’d failed at his relationships and his life, and how doing this would be better for everyone. It wasn’t just an easy way out. It was helping.
Jensen crouched, consumed by his thoughts and rationalizations in the shower, and didn’t even notice that the water had turned cold, the blade pressing harder against his skin.
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Jared had already finished changing the sheets shortly after the water had started running in the shower, tossing the old ones in his laundry basket. Sighing contentedly, he flopped down onto the bed, and then groaned softly at how comfortable it felt. He missed sleeping in his own bed. He’d never tell Jensen that, and would still never have things any other way. But he missed it. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling, figuring he’d just lay there for a little while longer while Jensen showered.
He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he was rolling onto his side, soft sheets beneath his body, and his eyes flew open. He wasn’t sure how long it’d been, but it somehow felt like too long. He looked at the clock and realized it had been almost an hour and a half. Then he realized he could still hear water running, and he froze, his blood running cold, knowing that Jensen couldn’t possibly have been showering for the last hour and a half.
Jared bolted up and out into the hallway before he could blink, his voice catching in his throat as he reached the bathroom door. He didn’t bother to knock, didn’t even think about it, and flung it open in a panic, a million thoughts and images flooding his brain as he wondered if the jewelry had failed and the Hellhounds had won. Once inside the room, he saw the shower curtain, the silhouette of Jensen, crouched low on the shower floor, and he swore his heart stopped as he choked on Jensen’s name, rushing forward and pulling back the curtain.
His first instinct was to feel relief at seeing Jensen alive and unharmed, and it took his panicked brain a minute to put all the pieces together as he stared at the scene in front of him. Jensen looked up, but wouldn’t look him in the eye, his expression a mix of horror and guilt, his entire body shaking violently. It was the look of someone who’d been caught. And Jared couldn’t understand why Jensen looked that way until his eyes zeroed in on the knife in Jensen’s hand…pressed to the opposite wrist.
The cold fear that had been running through Jared’s veins quickly turned to ice, and he could feel himself go rigid. Everything he’d felt, everything he’d felt for Jensen, suddenly came to a screeching halt.
“I-I thought…m-maybe if I-I did it m-myself…then maybe I-I wouldn’t…”
Jared could hear Jensen begin talking, begin to explain, and his posture became even more rigid and strained. He didn’t want to hear it, or anything else Jensen had to say. Fuck, he couldn’t even look at Jensen right now. But he wouldn’t tell Jensen that. He couldn’t. Because anger was building up so quickly in his body, that if he opened his mouth, he would explode with it. He could feel it in his chest, tight and boiling and raging, and he knew it was obvious that he was fuming, his jaw clenched so tight he thought it might break, or Jensen wouldn’t have trailed off the way he did, cowering. And that was what Jensen was; a coward. Jensen was a huge fucking coward. And he was also a deceitful, conniving, lying bastard. Jared had never been so angry at anybody in his life, and he’d never expected to feel this way about Jensen. But then he’d never expected Jensen to take anything this far. He’d never expected Jensen to betray him and hurt him so deeply that his body was one big angry mass of pain.
It took all of Jared’s strength to keep his emotions in check, his rage in his chest, and his tears out of his eyes. It took all of his strength to finally move without breaking something into a million pieces. He bent down and leaned forward, his left hand reaching out to grasp Jensen’s right wrist tightly, and he didn’t let up when Jensen flinched. He felt the cold sting of the freezing water, but didn’t move away from it, and it somehow only served to fuel his frustration. With his other hand, he pried Jensen’s fingers open and pulled the knife away, angrily tossing it onto the shower floor with an echoing clatter that he knew would ring in his ears whenever he thought of this moment. Jensen jumped again, and he didn’t care.
Leaning in further, he gripped Jensen’s biceps and lifted, bringing Jensen up to a standing position, and then pressing down hard on Jensen’s shoulders when the other man swayed, obviously from staying in the same position for too long. Jared’s clothes and skin were getting wet, but he didn’t move, didn’t back out of the spray. It was then that he realized the extent to which Jensen’s incessant shivering was from the temperature of the water, rather than any kind of emotion. Jensen’s skin was like ice beneath his palms, possibly colder than anything he’d ever felt. He reached over and turned the water off, leaving Jensen standing naked and shivering in the shower while he grabbed a towel.
Returning to the shower, Jared unfolded the towel and dried Jensen off. He was rougher than he probably should’ve been, but found it hard to reign himself in any further than he already had, rubbing the ordinarily comforting material into Jensen’s skin. Bringing the towel up to rub it into Jensen’s short hair in an attempt to dry it, his eyes caught the blue on Jensen’s lips and the chatter of Jensen’s teeth. Finishing up, he tied the towel around Jensen’s waist and grabbed Jensen by the arm, pulling him out of the shower.
Jared wordlessly led Jensen into the bedroom, still unable to speak, and pulled the covers back. He knew Jensen was in desperate need of some warmth, and fought the urge to throttle him, instead pushing him forward onto the bed. Jensen moved onto the mattress, turning onto his back a bit, and looking pathetically up at Jared. Jared wouldn’t return the gaze. He simply climbed into the bed next to Jensen and pushed him over onto his side, pressing in close behind him and pulling the covers up over both of their bodies.
Jensen was still shaking violently against him, his teeth still chattering, and Jared moved closer, every muscle in his body tense and strained. He brought his hand up, using all of his willpower to be a bit gentler, and rubbed up and down Jensen’s arm, eventually wrapping his arm around Jensen and rubbing his hand over Jensen’s chest, beneath the beads placed over it. He hadn’t even bothered to turn the light off. He figured neither of them would actually sleep that night.
The tension in the air became even thicker once Jensen had finally stopped shivering, Jared’s hand still planted on his chest. The anxiety it caused in Jensen finally made him squirm, and Jared’s hold tightened. Anger was still coursing through Jared’s body to the point where it was giving him a headache and when Jensen continued to fidget, Jared tightened his hold again.
“Hurts,” Jensen managed to mutter, his tone low and careful as he gasped slightly.
It wasn’t until then that Jared released Jensen from his grip and got out of bed. He was pissed off, and he knew it, and he had to distance himself from Jensen at least a little bit. As much as he wanted to right now, he wasn’t going to hurt him. He’d been rough with Jensen from the moment he’d found him in the shower, but there was a line he was crossing now, and he had to back away from it. It was hard to see through the red clouding his vision, but part of him still recognized that Jensen had to be in a lot of emotional pain. And he was pretty sure that you weren’t typically supposed to deal with a suicide risk by inflicting physical pain on top of that. Jensen slowly rolled onto his back before scooting up into a sitting position, pulling the covers up to his neck and looking like a child about to be scolded. Jared shook his head and crossed the room to his bureau, facing it and leaning against it, hands gripping the sides. He had to say something. One of them did at some point.
“What were you thinking?” Jared asked quietly, hearing the steel edge to the question and barely able to identify his own voice. He waited for a response, his body tense. He was trying, he was trying so hard not to explode, but Jensen’s silence only made this worse. “What the fuck were you thinking!” he shouted, spinning around to face Jensen again. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Jensen wouldn’t speak, kept his eyes averted and his face an emotionless mask. “You know, I have been busting my ass to save you!” Jared continued, stepping forward and thrusting a finger towards Jensen. “I’ve given you my home, my bed, and given up my fucking life, and this is how you repay me? By trying to kill yourself?! FUCK YOU, Jensen! FUCK. YOU. I swear to God, I’ve never hated anyone…”
Jared stopped himself, suddenly realizing that screaming at Jensen and telling him he hated him wasn’t going to help, either. He brought his hands up to his face, his head pounding, and felt tears on his cheeks that he’d been completely unaware were falling.
“Did something happen?” He asked, reigning himself in and bringing his hands down. “Did I miss something? Was there something tonight that made you do this? Or has all of this…Was it all a lie?” His voice broke on the last word, and he looked to Jensen, waiting for a response.
“I didn’t wanna hurt you,” Jensen said quietly, eyes flicking to Jared and back again.
“What?” Jared laughed bitterly, his heart constricting in his chest as more tears fell. “Jensen, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“You can’t save me,” Jensen replied, drawing his knees up to his chest. “The Hellhounds…They’re closer. And you can’t save me.”
Jared turned back to the bureau, leaning his head on his forearm and allowing a few soft sobs to break free. His anger was beginning to wane, though he could still feel it, and was being replaced by the deep hurt he felt at Jensen’s betrayal and hopelessness.
“So, you’ve never believed that this was gonna work?” he asked, unable to turn and look at Jensen again. “Thanks, Jensen. Thanks for fucking trusting me to help you out. You believe in me so much, you were about to drop out early. That sure as hell hurts a whole lot less than you just fucking telling me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry,” Jared laughed, wiping at his eyes. “You’re sorry. That’s great, Jensen. That’s great. That makes me feel so much better.”
Jared left the room without another word, heading for the bathroom. Jensen would never have the chance to try this again. Jared would make sure of that. He retrieved the knife from the shower, recognizing it as one of the knives from Jensen’s trailer, and reminded himself to get rid of the rest of them later. He went through Jensen’s toiletries and took his razors. He then went downstairs and into the kitchen, noisily pulling open drawers and dumping out all of the sharp utensils he owned, knowing he had to find somewhere to hide them.
And then he stopped in the middle of it all, standing in the kitchen with the dogs barking at him from the doorway, the floor a mess of silverware. He choked back another sob, grabbing his aching head again. He knew from all of his reactions and emotions that he had no idea what to do. He had no idea how to deal with someone who was depressed to the point of being suicidal. Reaching for the cell phone he still had clipped to his jeans, he wiped his eyes again and scrolled through the numbers until he found the one he wanted.
“Hey, it’s Jared,” he spoke into the phone, aware of how wrecked he sounded. “I’m sorry it’s so late, I just…I really need your help.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jensen spent the rest of his Sunday with Jared hovering over him. Even when night rolled around again, Jared climbed into bed with him, refusing to let him sleep alone. There were no warming touches this time, though. There was just Jared on the other side of the bed, waking whenever Jensen moved. Even when Jensen had to get up to take a piss, Jared got up with him and forced him to keep the bathroom door open, standing and waiting for him with his back turned. After getting up the next morning, Jared made Jensen wait on getting a shower until after he’d let the dogs out, just so he could do the same thing then, making sure the door stayed open, and that Jensen was doing nothing but showering. Jared had even timed him. If Jensen hadn’t been a burden before, he most certainly was now, and he could see it wearing on Jared already. He wasn’t sure whether to wish he’d been honest from the start or that he’d done what he was supposed to do in the shower the night before.
He was surprised that Jared hadn’t tried to talk to him about it more, though. He was also surprised that Jared was getting him up to go to work. But, in all honesty, he was relieved. He was relieved to not have to talk about it, and he was relieved that Jared hadn’t spilled the beans to anybody at the show. Still, Jared’s suffocating closeness made him uneasy, and, at times, made him panic. He was sure neither of them were getting a good night’s sleep at this point, but Jared sleeping in the same bed as him only reminded him of the nightmare he’d had, and he was constantly ready to bolt away from Jared, should Hellhounds come for him in the middle of the night.
Once on set, Jared accompanied him to his trailer and removed every sharp object he could find, including all of the knives and darts by the dartboard. Jensen hadn’t felt angry about anything in a long time, but being treated like a child somehow managed to get under his skin; especially when he saw that Jared had childproofed his own trailer, too. He just knew better than to complain about it. It wasn’t until Jensen was off filming one of his own scenes, still finding it easy to slip into Dean’s skin, that he realized Jared wasn’t there, watching over him. Maybe Jared had figured he was safe while filming, and the poor guy had gone off to his trailer to get some much needed rest.
With his scene finished and the crew setting up again, Jensen headed back for the trailers to let Jared know they would need him soon. He knocked before opening the door, expecting to find Jared napping. Instead, he found Jared’s trailer empty. Shrugging, he moved on to his own trailer, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he walked inside, two men already occupying it. He recognized the first as Jared, but the second he’d never seen before. He was older, with graying hair and a beard, dressed professionally, kind eyes gently weighing him. It made Jensen uneasy, and he looked at Jared questioningly when both men stood to greet him.
“Jensen, hi,” Jared said awkwardly, avoiding Jensen’s eyes, clearing his throat, and gesturing to the man beside him. “This is Dr. Anderson. He’s a friend of Tracy’s. He’s…someone who can help.”
Jensen stood there and stared dumbly, looking back and forth between Jared and Dr. Anderson in confusion. What the fuck had Jared done?
“Hello, Jensen,” Dr. Anderson said softly, stepping forward and extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Jensen gaped at Jared before he turned and left, the door slamming behind him, Jared’s rushed apology carrying through the offending noise. And then Jared was behind him, following him and grabbing him by the arm.
“Don’t you fucking look at me like that,” Jared spat, and Jensen glanced around, aware of nearby crew members. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
Jensen grabbed Jared and brought him into the opposite trailer, closing the door behind them.
“Look at you like what, Jared?”
“Like I went behind your back to do this!” Jared shouted. “Like I betrayed you. Don’t you fucking do it.”
“Well, what the fuck was that, Jared?” Jensen shouted back, surprised at his own voice, though he recognized the pounding in his chest as fear rather than anger. People were going to know now. “Jesus!”
“Jensen, you need help,” Jared said, gripping Jensen by the shoulders. “That’s what Dr. Anderson is there for. You have to talk to him!”
“Oh, really?” Jensen shoved Jared away from him. “Really, Jared? And what the fuck am I supposed to tell him, exactly? ‘You wouldn’t understand, there are Hellhounds on my tail’?”
“Shit, Jensen, I don’t know, you’ve been pretty fucking good at lying lately, so I’m sure you can come up with something!”
“Forget it,” Jensen said, turning away. “Forget it, Jared. I’m not talking to a goddamn shrink.”
“Oh, like a shrink isn’t what you need right now?” Jared asked incredulously. “Incase you haven’t noticed Jensen, you just tried to kill yourself!”
“I had reasons!” Jensen shouted, turning back around. “A fucking shrink isn’t gonna fix that! He can’t fix me! Nothing can, Jared! And it’s not because I’m some pathetic psych case! It’s because I’m fucking realistic, and I know the truth, Jared! I’m going to die, whether you like it or not!”
“Jensen,” Jared spoke quietly, after taking a moment to compose himself, “You’re talking to this man. Okay? I don’t care what you think is gonna happen, whether you think I’m being stupid for thinking I can save you…I don’t care. Just, please, please, talk to this man.”
Jensen stared at Jared, saw the desperation and unshed tears in his eyes, his hands pressed together in a pleading gesture. Why was Jared still clinging to this?
“No.” Jensen shook his head, an outright refusal, and he watched Jared’s hands fall, his posture straighten, and his face go blank. “You can’t force someone to get help, Jared,” he said, pulling from all the speeches he’d heard over the years about not being able to help someone who doesn’t want the help in the first place. “And you can’t force me. I’m not going through this. Not when it doesn’t even matter. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”
“You’re so ready to accept that,” Jared replied, shaking his head, his voice a near whisper. “God, you won’t even try.”
“They’re gonna need us both on set in a few minutes,” was all Jensen said in response, and Jared looked at him as if he’d been wounded. But Jensen was too afraid of facing the doctor to agree. It still hurt him to see Jared like that, but he couldn’t go talk about his feelings to some shrink. He didn’t need to. It would only make things worse by bringing another person into this.
Jensen hated himself for doing this to Jared. But he had no other choice. And Jared would give up and get on with his life sooner or later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared turned away from Jensen and left to go back to his own trailer, feeling utterly defeated. He didn’t understand how Jensen could feel that way, how he could just give up on himself so easily. It was ridiculous how much they were becoming like their characters. He could hear Sam’s words in his head: “How can you care so little about yourself? What’s wrong with you?” He was still shaking his head when he entered his trailer, and he looked up at Dr. Anderson, shrugging in apology.
“I’m sorry,” Jared said, sniffling and rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m, uh…I’m sorry for wasting your time, Dr. Anderson. He’s…He doesn’t want any help. I don’t understand why, but he just…doesn’t.”
“Jared,” Dr. Anderson came over and placed a hand on his shoulder, “This wasn’t a waste of time. A lot of people refuse help the first time around. He may change his mind. And even if he doesn’t, I can still help.”
“How?” Jared asked. The doctor gave him a sympathetic look.
“Well, it seems to me like Jensen’s not the only person here who could use someone to talk to.”
Chapter 7: Showers and Dates
Chapter 2: Blood and Dust
Chapter 3: Cereal and Stitches
Chapter 4: Breakfast and Bathrooms
Chapter 5: Doctors and Bracelets
Chapter 6: Words and Knives
Jared wasn’t sure why those six little words Jensen had thrown at him had felt like a slap in the face. He hadn’t expected to feel them so deeply; to feel rejected. A small part of him panicked, irrationally thinking that Jensen somehow knew about what he’d done the night before. But that was impossible, and Jensen’s actual reasoning was so much easier to accept after he pushed those thoughts away. It was still disappointing, but he could deal with it. Who was he to refuse Jensen what he needed in order to heal after all this stress?
And yet he knew that, when Jensen moved out, he’d feel like he’d lost a limb. He knew that he’d stumbled onto something inside of himself that he hadn’t realized was there. He was slowly beginning to acknowledge it, but wasn’t quite all the way there, yet. He was holding it off, partly because he felt stupid for not seeing it before. If there was something this massive, this huge inside of him, how could he have missed it? How could he possibly have missed something that even fans were picking up on? That made the whole thing seem ridiculous, and it was Jared’s one last shred of denial. He clung to it, not yet ready to let it go.
He spent the rest of the day with Jensen, the two of them battling with controllers in their hands for the most part. Things got quiet, except for the noises of the video game on screen, and Jared fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence between them. He brightened, thinking of something that would lift both of their spirits.
“Hey, we should figure out what we’re doing next weekend!”
“What?” Jensen glanced over at him in confusion. “Why? What’s next weekend?”
Jared looked over at Jensen and laughed, expecting Jensen to quirk an eyebrow or something. But Jensen turned a serious questioning gaze on him, and Jared’s character fell off a cliff. He chided himself for being hurt at all, knowing that it was childish and that he shouldn’t take it this seriously. With everything going on, he couldn’t possibly expect Jensen to be able to focus on something so trivial.
“’S’my birthday, dude.” He offered Jensen a small smile when he saw Jensen’s face fall. Jensen had completely forgotten. “It’s okay.” He turned his eyes back on the screen, starting up a new game. “We don’t have to do anything. We’ve got too much going on as it is.”
“I’m sorry, man, I wasn’t even thinking,” Jensen said. And Jared felt horrible for even bringing it up, because Jensen looked positively stricken with guilt.
“Dude, don’t be. It’s no big deal. We can always celebrate it later. Besides,” he said, grinning widely, “I already knew my present would be coming late this year, anyway.”
“Really?” Jensen cocked his head and smirked at him, and he nodded.
“Yeah, man.” Jared looked down at his controller, chewing his bottom lip for a few seconds, the mood suddenly a lot more serious than he’d meant for it to be. He wondered how much he could say without giving himself away or being too fucking girly. “Look, I don’t even want anything this year. Not really. The only thing I want for my birthday is you.” He kept his gaze on the controller, his hands beginning to shake a little. “I just want you, alive and safe. That’s all that matters. With everything that’s happening…Parties, cakes, and gifts, and shit? They don’t mean anything. We do it every year, and it doesn’t even matter. But this year…The only thing that will mean anything to me this year is saving you. And when we get there in a couple of weeks, that’s all I’ll need. Just to know we saved your life. I mean, that’s one hell of a birthday present.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jensen couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. He wasn’t sure how the conversation ended, or if he’d even said anything in response to Jared. He wasn’t sure how the rest of the day went, if they’d even talked about anything else before once again heading to bed. It would concern him, make him wonder how much control he’d lost over Jensen Two, but he was positive he’d remember a confrontation with Jared over that, if it happened. He felt frozen and numb for a long time, up until the next day, when he ended up in his trailer alone, Jared off filming a scene with Genevieve. And the only thing he felt then was deep, severe self-loathing.
He sat on the floor of his trailer, staring at the Hellhound standing in front of him, glaring and growling. It was closer than ever, and he willed the power of the beads he was wearing to fail completely, like he knew they would. He really wanted it now, craved it more than anything, and knew he deserved it. He’d already lost his faith, had already grown tired of living, and, by mistakenly deciding to keep on living for what he thought would be the benefit of his friend, he’d become a completely horrible person. He was ruining Jared, hurting and failing him.
“Take me,” he whispered quietly, locking eyes with the Hellhound. “Just fucking take me.”
When he finally stood up, he walked over to his dartboard, suddenly reminded of how he’d somewhat subconsciously taken the goofer dust and Devil’s Shoestring from set, back when he was still in denial but, on some level, felt like he might need it later. He stared at the knives lodged in his dartboard, somewhat subconsciously reaching up and pulling one of the knives out of the wood, almost surprised to find it resting in the palm of his hand a minute later.
When Jared burst through the door to announce that he was needed on set, Jensen quickly shoved the knife into his pocket before it could be seen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared noticed a change in Jensen, but figured it was normal. Jensen becoming quieter and more withdrawn was something that usually happened at this point in the season. It was early, but not early enough for there to still be the same amount of wide-eyed excitement that they always shared upon first starting a new season. It was just that point where excitement and anxiety were waning a bit. Not that they weren’t always happy and excited with each new script they got. But the novelty was wearing off, and the hours were just beginning to settle in enough to start to wear on them. Eventually, that would wear off, too, as they got used to the routine of it. But this was the point where some amount of fatigue usually set in, the two of them dealing with it in their own ways. Jensen’s way was usually to become a bit more of a loner and try to sleep as much as possible. And it was bound to be doubled this time around, what with the problem they were already working around.
Of course, part of Jared worried that Jensen might also be acting that way because he could sense the changes taking place in Jared. But he hoped that that wouldn’t scare his friend off, and did his best to give Jensen his space. When they had a break on set, and Jensen immediately strode off to his trailer for a nap, Jared let him go without a word. When they walked into the house after a long day at work, and Jensen immediately headed for the stairs to hop into bed, Jared again let him go without a word. Jared figured it was best to just let Jensen settle into the season. That way, things could get better sooner, rather than later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was halfway through the week when Jensen started thinking that, if he went through with it, maybe he should do it on set. He sat in his trailer, knife pulled from his pocket and settled in his hand. He watched it, moving his palm back and forth, light glinting off of the knife at various points. If he went through with it, and if he did it on set, then he wouldn’t have to do it in Jared’s house.
Jensen actually smirked when he thought about what would happen if he finished himself off right there, in his trailer, with the knife. It would be the perfect setup for one of those horrible television specials about stars who offed themselves because they couldn’t handle their fame or their characters. Everybody would talk about how they “never saw it coming,” and how Jensen was such a joy to be around. Of course, they’d be talking about Jensen Two. But then, they’d never know that. And then someone would undoubtedly bring up some stupid fact that would prove that there was some sort of “dark side” to Jensen that people hadn’t noticed. That fact maybe even being that he threw knives in his trailer. Everybody would say, “We thought he was just extremely dedicated, but it was more than that.” And they would all nod and think they were right, because he of course killed himself with one of those very knives. There would be articles and biographies about just how messed up he really was, all because he threw knives in his trailer.
And he realized that that was better than anything else that would happen. He was going to die. The Hellhound practically riding his ass now proved that. If he died the kind of death the Hellhounds had planned for him, it would have to be seen as murder. And what then? A constant, unending search to find some nonexistent psycho who’d murdered Jensen Ackles in the same fashion Dean Winchester had died in the season three finale? His parents on TV, pleading with the public to help them find whoever had murdered their son? And what about after that? Would the cops arrest some poor bastard who didn’t deserve anything that was happening to him? And what about Jared?
What about Jared? It was then that Jensen realized that Jared and people close to him in the Supernatural cast and crew would probably be prime suspects. Shit, if he died like that in Jared’s house? He imagined Jared arrested, in jail, on trial. God forbid he’d ever get convicted. And, even if he didn’t, his reputation would be shattered. For the rest of his life, Jared would be seen as the man who possibly got away with murdering his supposed best friend and costar.
If Jensen went through with this, he’d be doing everyone a favor. He’d fucked things up enough in life. He didn’t have to fuck things up even more in death.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared walked into his trailer, holding the door open for Jim, who came in behind him. He reached over, turned the TV on, and grabbed a couple of bottles of water out of his mini-fridge. He handed one over to Jim, and they both took a seat. Jared stared at the TV screen, but didn’t really comprehend what was on it, feeling Jim’s eyes on him.
“Jensen’s been napping a lot,” Jim commented, taking a sip of his water. “Seems like he’s been off in that trailer of his every chance he’s gotten all week. Is he alright?”
“Yeah,” Jared said, shrugging it off. “Yeah, he’s fine. Just tired, you know? He always gets this way at this point. It gets better as time goes on.”
“There’s been a lot of talk, lately, here on set,” Jim continued, and Jared turned to face him. “Nothing bad, really, just concern. After the summer, everybody’s worried about him. And you two aren’t as goofy as you usually are. Still goofy enough,” Jim offered, and Jared smiled a bit, thankful for the lightening of the mood. “Just not as much as usual.”
“We’re alright,” Jared said, hesitating a bit, and not wanting to give too much away. “Jensen just had some personal stuff to deal with over the summer, and I’ve been trying to help him out with it. It can be kinda hard,” he admitted, thinking back to the times when he feared for Jensen’s sanity, and Jim nodded his head sympathetically. “But, you know, everyone has rough patches. We’re doing fine, though. He’ll pull through.” He smiled uncertainly when Jim stared at him for a minute.
“Kid, most of the time, you’re trouble. But you’re also a complete sap,” Jim said finally, and Jared laughed. “But I’m glad to hear it.”
“Aww, Jim,” Jared teased, leaning over and laying his head on Jim’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you cared!”
“Please,” Jim retorted, not bothering to even try pushing Jared away. “I was just asking for everybody else. Never said I cared.”
“Hey!” Jensen suddenly opened the door of the trailer and stuck his head on. “Just got a knock on my door.” He paused, smirking at the two of them. “Quit cuddling. They finally got the panic room set up. We finish this, and we’re done.”
“You’re just jealous,” Jared said, raising his head in the air as he stood to leave the trailer, leaving his unopened bottle of water behind.
Jared wasn’t sure why he hadn’t been expecting something as they walked to the set together. It was the last day of the working week, and his birthday was the next day. Something was bound to happen. But Jim opening the door to the panic room in front of them only to find it bursting with balloons was the last thing he’d expected to see. He laughed and grinned brightly as the crew burst out into a rowdy rendition of “Happy Birthday,” noting that both Jensen and Jim seemed just as surprised as he was. It was times like those when Jared thanked God for being able to work with the best crew in the world. He’d really miss working on Supernatural when it ended. The crazy hours were worth it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jensen made sure to wish Jared a happy birthday when he woke the next morning, trying his best to be genuinely excited for his friend. He’d already agreed the night before to go out and celebrate with some of the crew. Jared had protested, said he didn’t have to go, that even Jared would stay in, and it was no big deal. But Jared deserved to be happy, have fun, and have a good birthday. Jensen guessed that that was his gift to Jared this year. It wasn’t enough to make up for everything he’d fucked up already, but it was something. He shushed all of Jared’s, “Look, we don’t have to. I can call and say we can’t make it,” statements, and they went out.
The bar wasn’t one the two of them usually frequented on weekends, but one that the guys in the crew knew of. It was louder, rowdier, and possibly better for partying, if you were up for it. Jensen’s excuse for not getting a bit rowdy himself was that he was the designated driver, insisting on driving there in Jared’s Denali. Jared had objected, telling Jensen that he should be able to have fun, too, and “since when do we not have both of us get trashed on one of our birthdays?” But Jensen just smiled Jensen Two’s smile and told Jared that he was his chauffeur for the night.
The truth was that Jensen, while relieved that Jared was able to get out and have some fun, finally couldn’t fake it anymore. He couldn’t be that happy. It was too much. He could fake enough to deflect Jared’s worried and guilty glances every so often. But he couldn’t join in with the crowd, laughing and shouting and partying as if he was really still alive. Those days were over for him, and he didn’t care enough to keep that much of a façade in place. It was hard enough doing what he was doing, feeling like he was killing Jared’s happiness every time Jared looked over to make sure he was okay. It honestly felt like he was killing Jared in general. Thankfully, Jared eventually let go and downed enough shots to make Dean proud, happy and lit, reminding everyone ten million times that, “Heyyy, guys…iz mah berfday!”
Jared passed out in the passenger seat of the Denali almost as soon as he’d climbed in, and Jensen had to practically carry his ass into the house, Jared only waking enough to slur out a, “Thanks, man,” with breath that made Jensen’s eyes tear. Jensen had half a mind to drag Jared upstairs and let him have the bed that night. But it seemed like a physically impossible feat, and he knew Jared would kill him for it in the morning.
Jensen made sure the dogs were taken care of and let them out into the yard, thankful that he could still get them to come in on his own, though they did still keep a good distance away from him. He climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom, exhausted and fed up with his life. He was all too aware of the knife he now had hidden in the carry-on still sitting in the room. He collapsed on the bed, not bothering to get undressed, and thought about it. It wasn’t like it wouldn’t be good timing, with Jared passed out on the couch. He felt the barest twinge of guilt for thinking about doing it on Jared’s birthday, though. He closed his eyes, letting himself mull it over some more.
“Jensen?”
Jensen’s head snapped up to see Jared in the doorway, opening the once closed door. He rubbed his eyes, cursing when he realized he’d left his contacts in.
“You okay?” Jared asked.
“Yeah, man, I’m fine. What are you do-” Jensen cut himself off when he saw something fall from above the doorway and land on the floor. He watched as Jared looked down at it, and then looked back up at Jensen, enough moonlight in the room to show the fear on Jared’s face.
“Jensen!” Jared shouted, rushing over to him. And that’s when Jensen saw that it was the Devil’s Shoestring fallen from above the door, the goofer dust beginning to thin out as it was blown away by some supernatural force, and the Hellhound rushing at him.
He didn’t think he could still feel anything after he’d accepted and expected this for so long, but the sight of the Hellhound actually springing for him sent fear and adrenaline down his spine, his heart hammering in his chest, and he instinctively scooted back up the bed, away from it. But he guessed that that was what instincts were for; that this was just what people did when they were being attacked by something as fearsome as a Hellhound.
Jared was suddenly in front of him, pushing him back further, urging him on, and trying to keep him safe. Jared was half turned away from him, following Jensen’s gaze to where the Hellhound was, invisible to Jared, his hand on Jensen’s shoulder, still pushing. And Jensen never saw it coming; never in a million years thought he’d see the Hellhound’s claws tear into Jared’s body as it lunged for him, Jared screaming in pain and shock as deep, bloody gashes appeared down the front of his torso. The force of it knocked Jared back into Jensen, and Jensen could see and feel the warmth of Jared’s blood soaking into his clothes, the sheets.
“NOOOOOOOO!!” Jensen screamed, tears already falling, his scream drowned out by another one of Jared’s, as the Hellhound tore into him again. “JARED!” he screamed again, this time through heart-wrenching sobs. “NO! STOP! NOT HIM! YOU CAN’T KILL HIM! YOU CAN’T!”
Jensen tried to grab onto Jared, tried to force Jared out of the way, but the power of the Hellhound was unstoppable, the beast finally tossing Jared aside on the bed. Jensen threw himself towards Jared, falling just short, but could only see Jared’s bloody body, eyes staring lifelessly up at the ceiling.
“Jared!” Jensen cried out, sobbing as tears blurred his vision. He didn’t even feel the Hellhound’s claws plunging into his own body, didn’t even hear it growling anymore, not even caring what it was doing to him. “JARED! NO!”
“NO!” Jensen shot straight up into a sitting position on the bed. “NO!” He looked around frantically, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He froze in fear in confusion, having trouble breathing with the lump in his throat.
Jared wasn’t there. There was no Hellhound. The dust was still in place. So was the Devil’s Shoestring. He drew in a deep, rattling breath. It was a dream. It was all a fucking dream. He let the breath out, sounding close to a sob, and ran trembling fingers through his hair. He blinked a few times, realizing he had left his contacts in, and immediately reached for the case by the side of the bed so that he could remove them, slipping his glasses on afterwards. He held his head in his hands, rocking back and forth a few times, closing his eyes and reliving what he’d just seen, and suddenly had the urge to get out of bed and check on Jared.
Jensen stood, stepping over the circle and leaving the room, eyeing the Hellhound waiting in the hallway. He shakily descended the stairs, his shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked body. He halted at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the railing, as tears filled his vision at the sight of Jared, asleep and safe on the couch, where Jensen had left him. Forcing the tears back, he crossed the room to the couch, standing over Jared and watching the rise and fall of his chest, the peaceful look on his face. Suddenly, he needed to touch him, make sure he was real, and he tentatively reached out a hand and gently brushed Jared’s hair back off of his forehead. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, swallowing over and over again against the lump in his throat, his legs feeling weak where he stood. He couldn’t explain what he’d felt when he’d looked at Jared in that moment. It was beyond anything like relief, and it shocked him, as he hadn’t felt anything like it in what seemed like a lifetime.
But it was gone as quickly as it came, and he knew what he had to do now. That was it; the final straw. He quietly turned and headed back for the stairs.
“Jensen?”
Jared’s voice was gravelly and deep, filled with sleep, and it stopped Jensen in his tracks. He took a deep breath to compose himself and turned around to see Jared looking up at him, rubbing at his eyes. He looked so young when he did that.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking on you, asshole,” Jensen said softly, the words missing a bit of Jensen Two’s usual sarcastic bite. “Making sure you’re alright and not puking in your sleep.”
“‘M fine,” Jared yawned, stretching out on the couch. “‘M hungry. ‘N’ my mouth is dry,” he complained, smacking his lips together for emphasis.
“You should probably get yourself hydrated,” Jensen said, forcing the words out. He didn’t want Jared to be awake now, damnit. But Jared was up and about in the kitchen in a matter of minutes, and Jensen was once again cursing the man’s ability to completely lack a hangover or any after effects of alcohol once he’d garnered a couple hours of sleep.
“Want anything?” Jared asked, returning with a bag of chips and a glass of water, the dogs lifting their heads and eyeing him in confusion.
“No, thanks,” Jensen said politely, shifting on his feet. He had to get away, and he had to do it now. “I think I’m gonna get a shower,” he blurted out, and Jared cocked his head and stared at him.
“Now?” Jared asked.
“Yeah,” Jensen shrugged, “Why not? I’m all sweaty and shit. I’m gross.”
Jensen went for the stairs when Jared nodded, trying to rush without looking like he was rushing for the bedroom, leaving his glasses on the nightstand and grabbing for his carry-on. He jumped when the light suddenly came on, and spun around to find Jared behind him, bag of chips still in hand.
“Dude, chill,” Jared said, eyes wide, free hand held up. “It’s just me, man. I just realized these sheets could use changing. I haven’t done it in forever. Must be driving you nuts to sleep in that shit.”
“No,” Jensen replied, trying not to sound desperate. “Dude, you don’t have to do that now.”
“It’s fine.” Jared shrugged, setting the chips down on the nightstand and brushing the crumbs off of his hands. “I’ll just do it while you’re in the shower. I’m pretty awake now, anyways. Go ahead.”
Jensen nodded and grabbed his bag, hauling it into the bathroom with him and closing the door. He dropped the bag on the floor, numbly undressing and pulling out the toiletries he’d need for a shower. He wasn’t sure why he did it, because this part of the charade really didn’t matter, did it? It wasn’t like Jared would see it. But he did it, anyway, moving mechanically, all too aware of Jared in the next room.
He reached behind the curtain and turned the water on before digging deeper in his bag and pulling out the knife, as if it would make some sort of sound he’d have to drown out, so that Jared wouldn’t hear. He stepped into the shower, drawing the curtain closed behind himself, the silhouette of the Hellhound outlined from the opposite side.
And then he felt oddly calm and isolated, the smooth blade in his hand, the water raining down on him. He crouched down under the spray, and turned his left wrist upward, gazing down at it and rolling the bracelet down out of the way. He held the knife against it, just testing himself, staring at the contrast between his pale skin and the silver steel blade. What was it Dean had said last season? In the episode with the witches? “Three vertical, on each wrist. She wasn’t playing around.” He was surprised when, just as in his dream, he felt a bit of fear creeping into his system. But, again, he put that down to instincts. He figured that no one, even those in his position, had ever not been at least a little bit afraid the minute before their death. It was only natural. But he knew that this was the only way. It had to be. He’d thought it out too much for it to be wrong.
Jensen’s thoughts caught up with him as they had a habit of doing lately. He became tangled in their web, thinking of all the reasons why this was the right thing to do, and why it all made sense. One of those reasons was the Hellhound behind the curtain. He already knew he was going to die. He could sense it, taste it, feel it. Comic Con was too far away for Jared’s plan to even work. And who wanted to die the way Dean had? Maybe suicide wasn’t painless, but it was certainly less torturous than being ripped to shreds by a Hellhound. Any sane person would do exactly what Jensen was doing right now.
Then there was Hell. Jared had told him the fans couldn’t possibly have the ability to send him to Hell, but what did Jared know? And if being killed by the Hellhound that was mistakenly after him was a one-way ticket to Hell…What if the Hellhound never got to him? If he died before the undeserved Hellhound was unleashed on him, maybe he’d…Well, he didn’t know where he’d be. He’d lost his faith in God before they’d even started filming. Maybe he’d just be nothing; just pure nothing. Maybe that was what happened to people who weren’t destined for Hell when they died. Maybe they were just gone. And Jensen was fine with that. He was already nothing, anyway. And if he could escape an eternity of torture, why wouldn’t he? Again, any sane person in his position would do the same thing. Right?
He rethought everything he’d already thought about: what he’d been doing to Jared and everyone else, how much he’d failed at his relationships and his life, and how doing this would be better for everyone. It wasn’t just an easy way out. It was helping.
Jensen crouched, consumed by his thoughts and rationalizations in the shower, and didn’t even notice that the water had turned cold, the blade pressing harder against his skin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared had already finished changing the sheets shortly after the water had started running in the shower, tossing the old ones in his laundry basket. Sighing contentedly, he flopped down onto the bed, and then groaned softly at how comfortable it felt. He missed sleeping in his own bed. He’d never tell Jensen that, and would still never have things any other way. But he missed it. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling, figuring he’d just lay there for a little while longer while Jensen showered.
He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he was rolling onto his side, soft sheets beneath his body, and his eyes flew open. He wasn’t sure how long it’d been, but it somehow felt like too long. He looked at the clock and realized it had been almost an hour and a half. Then he realized he could still hear water running, and he froze, his blood running cold, knowing that Jensen couldn’t possibly have been showering for the last hour and a half.
Jared bolted up and out into the hallway before he could blink, his voice catching in his throat as he reached the bathroom door. He didn’t bother to knock, didn’t even think about it, and flung it open in a panic, a million thoughts and images flooding his brain as he wondered if the jewelry had failed and the Hellhounds had won. Once inside the room, he saw the shower curtain, the silhouette of Jensen, crouched low on the shower floor, and he swore his heart stopped as he choked on Jensen’s name, rushing forward and pulling back the curtain.
His first instinct was to feel relief at seeing Jensen alive and unharmed, and it took his panicked brain a minute to put all the pieces together as he stared at the scene in front of him. Jensen looked up, but wouldn’t look him in the eye, his expression a mix of horror and guilt, his entire body shaking violently. It was the look of someone who’d been caught. And Jared couldn’t understand why Jensen looked that way until his eyes zeroed in on the knife in Jensen’s hand…pressed to the opposite wrist.
The cold fear that had been running through Jared’s veins quickly turned to ice, and he could feel himself go rigid. Everything he’d felt, everything he’d felt for Jensen, suddenly came to a screeching halt.
“I-I thought…m-maybe if I-I did it m-myself…then maybe I-I wouldn’t…”
Jared could hear Jensen begin talking, begin to explain, and his posture became even more rigid and strained. He didn’t want to hear it, or anything else Jensen had to say. Fuck, he couldn’t even look at Jensen right now. But he wouldn’t tell Jensen that. He couldn’t. Because anger was building up so quickly in his body, that if he opened his mouth, he would explode with it. He could feel it in his chest, tight and boiling and raging, and he knew it was obvious that he was fuming, his jaw clenched so tight he thought it might break, or Jensen wouldn’t have trailed off the way he did, cowering. And that was what Jensen was; a coward. Jensen was a huge fucking coward. And he was also a deceitful, conniving, lying bastard. Jared had never been so angry at anybody in his life, and he’d never expected to feel this way about Jensen. But then he’d never expected Jensen to take anything this far. He’d never expected Jensen to betray him and hurt him so deeply that his body was one big angry mass of pain.
It took all of Jared’s strength to keep his emotions in check, his rage in his chest, and his tears out of his eyes. It took all of his strength to finally move without breaking something into a million pieces. He bent down and leaned forward, his left hand reaching out to grasp Jensen’s right wrist tightly, and he didn’t let up when Jensen flinched. He felt the cold sting of the freezing water, but didn’t move away from it, and it somehow only served to fuel his frustration. With his other hand, he pried Jensen’s fingers open and pulled the knife away, angrily tossing it onto the shower floor with an echoing clatter that he knew would ring in his ears whenever he thought of this moment. Jensen jumped again, and he didn’t care.
Leaning in further, he gripped Jensen’s biceps and lifted, bringing Jensen up to a standing position, and then pressing down hard on Jensen’s shoulders when the other man swayed, obviously from staying in the same position for too long. Jared’s clothes and skin were getting wet, but he didn’t move, didn’t back out of the spray. It was then that he realized the extent to which Jensen’s incessant shivering was from the temperature of the water, rather than any kind of emotion. Jensen’s skin was like ice beneath his palms, possibly colder than anything he’d ever felt. He reached over and turned the water off, leaving Jensen standing naked and shivering in the shower while he grabbed a towel.
Returning to the shower, Jared unfolded the towel and dried Jensen off. He was rougher than he probably should’ve been, but found it hard to reign himself in any further than he already had, rubbing the ordinarily comforting material into Jensen’s skin. Bringing the towel up to rub it into Jensen’s short hair in an attempt to dry it, his eyes caught the blue on Jensen’s lips and the chatter of Jensen’s teeth. Finishing up, he tied the towel around Jensen’s waist and grabbed Jensen by the arm, pulling him out of the shower.
Jared wordlessly led Jensen into the bedroom, still unable to speak, and pulled the covers back. He knew Jensen was in desperate need of some warmth, and fought the urge to throttle him, instead pushing him forward onto the bed. Jensen moved onto the mattress, turning onto his back a bit, and looking pathetically up at Jared. Jared wouldn’t return the gaze. He simply climbed into the bed next to Jensen and pushed him over onto his side, pressing in close behind him and pulling the covers up over both of their bodies.
Jensen was still shaking violently against him, his teeth still chattering, and Jared moved closer, every muscle in his body tense and strained. He brought his hand up, using all of his willpower to be a bit gentler, and rubbed up and down Jensen’s arm, eventually wrapping his arm around Jensen and rubbing his hand over Jensen’s chest, beneath the beads placed over it. He hadn’t even bothered to turn the light off. He figured neither of them would actually sleep that night.
The tension in the air became even thicker once Jensen had finally stopped shivering, Jared’s hand still planted on his chest. The anxiety it caused in Jensen finally made him squirm, and Jared’s hold tightened. Anger was still coursing through Jared’s body to the point where it was giving him a headache and when Jensen continued to fidget, Jared tightened his hold again.
“Hurts,” Jensen managed to mutter, his tone low and careful as he gasped slightly.
It wasn’t until then that Jared released Jensen from his grip and got out of bed. He was pissed off, and he knew it, and he had to distance himself from Jensen at least a little bit. As much as he wanted to right now, he wasn’t going to hurt him. He’d been rough with Jensen from the moment he’d found him in the shower, but there was a line he was crossing now, and he had to back away from it. It was hard to see through the red clouding his vision, but part of him still recognized that Jensen had to be in a lot of emotional pain. And he was pretty sure that you weren’t typically supposed to deal with a suicide risk by inflicting physical pain on top of that. Jensen slowly rolled onto his back before scooting up into a sitting position, pulling the covers up to his neck and looking like a child about to be scolded. Jared shook his head and crossed the room to his bureau, facing it and leaning against it, hands gripping the sides. He had to say something. One of them did at some point.
“What were you thinking?” Jared asked quietly, hearing the steel edge to the question and barely able to identify his own voice. He waited for a response, his body tense. He was trying, he was trying so hard not to explode, but Jensen’s silence only made this worse. “What the fuck were you thinking!” he shouted, spinning around to face Jensen again. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Jensen wouldn’t speak, kept his eyes averted and his face an emotionless mask. “You know, I have been busting my ass to save you!” Jared continued, stepping forward and thrusting a finger towards Jensen. “I’ve given you my home, my bed, and given up my fucking life, and this is how you repay me? By trying to kill yourself?! FUCK YOU, Jensen! FUCK. YOU. I swear to God, I’ve never hated anyone…”
Jared stopped himself, suddenly realizing that screaming at Jensen and telling him he hated him wasn’t going to help, either. He brought his hands up to his face, his head pounding, and felt tears on his cheeks that he’d been completely unaware were falling.
“Did something happen?” He asked, reigning himself in and bringing his hands down. “Did I miss something? Was there something tonight that made you do this? Or has all of this…Was it all a lie?” His voice broke on the last word, and he looked to Jensen, waiting for a response.
“I didn’t wanna hurt you,” Jensen said quietly, eyes flicking to Jared and back again.
“What?” Jared laughed bitterly, his heart constricting in his chest as more tears fell. “Jensen, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“You can’t save me,” Jensen replied, drawing his knees up to his chest. “The Hellhounds…They’re closer. And you can’t save me.”
Jared turned back to the bureau, leaning his head on his forearm and allowing a few soft sobs to break free. His anger was beginning to wane, though he could still feel it, and was being replaced by the deep hurt he felt at Jensen’s betrayal and hopelessness.
“So, you’ve never believed that this was gonna work?” he asked, unable to turn and look at Jensen again. “Thanks, Jensen. Thanks for fucking trusting me to help you out. You believe in me so much, you were about to drop out early. That sure as hell hurts a whole lot less than you just fucking telling me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry,” Jared laughed, wiping at his eyes. “You’re sorry. That’s great, Jensen. That’s great. That makes me feel so much better.”
Jared left the room without another word, heading for the bathroom. Jensen would never have the chance to try this again. Jared would make sure of that. He retrieved the knife from the shower, recognizing it as one of the knives from Jensen’s trailer, and reminded himself to get rid of the rest of them later. He went through Jensen’s toiletries and took his razors. He then went downstairs and into the kitchen, noisily pulling open drawers and dumping out all of the sharp utensils he owned, knowing he had to find somewhere to hide them.
And then he stopped in the middle of it all, standing in the kitchen with the dogs barking at him from the doorway, the floor a mess of silverware. He choked back another sob, grabbing his aching head again. He knew from all of his reactions and emotions that he had no idea what to do. He had no idea how to deal with someone who was depressed to the point of being suicidal. Reaching for the cell phone he still had clipped to his jeans, he wiped his eyes again and scrolled through the numbers until he found the one he wanted.
“Hey, it’s Jared,” he spoke into the phone, aware of how wrecked he sounded. “I’m sorry it’s so late, I just…I really need your help.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jensen spent the rest of his Sunday with Jared hovering over him. Even when night rolled around again, Jared climbed into bed with him, refusing to let him sleep alone. There were no warming touches this time, though. There was just Jared on the other side of the bed, waking whenever Jensen moved. Even when Jensen had to get up to take a piss, Jared got up with him and forced him to keep the bathroom door open, standing and waiting for him with his back turned. After getting up the next morning, Jared made Jensen wait on getting a shower until after he’d let the dogs out, just so he could do the same thing then, making sure the door stayed open, and that Jensen was doing nothing but showering. Jared had even timed him. If Jensen hadn’t been a burden before, he most certainly was now, and he could see it wearing on Jared already. He wasn’t sure whether to wish he’d been honest from the start or that he’d done what he was supposed to do in the shower the night before.
He was surprised that Jared hadn’t tried to talk to him about it more, though. He was also surprised that Jared was getting him up to go to work. But, in all honesty, he was relieved. He was relieved to not have to talk about it, and he was relieved that Jared hadn’t spilled the beans to anybody at the show. Still, Jared’s suffocating closeness made him uneasy, and, at times, made him panic. He was sure neither of them were getting a good night’s sleep at this point, but Jared sleeping in the same bed as him only reminded him of the nightmare he’d had, and he was constantly ready to bolt away from Jared, should Hellhounds come for him in the middle of the night.
Once on set, Jared accompanied him to his trailer and removed every sharp object he could find, including all of the knives and darts by the dartboard. Jensen hadn’t felt angry about anything in a long time, but being treated like a child somehow managed to get under his skin; especially when he saw that Jared had childproofed his own trailer, too. He just knew better than to complain about it. It wasn’t until Jensen was off filming one of his own scenes, still finding it easy to slip into Dean’s skin, that he realized Jared wasn’t there, watching over him. Maybe Jared had figured he was safe while filming, and the poor guy had gone off to his trailer to get some much needed rest.
With his scene finished and the crew setting up again, Jensen headed back for the trailers to let Jared know they would need him soon. He knocked before opening the door, expecting to find Jared napping. Instead, he found Jared’s trailer empty. Shrugging, he moved on to his own trailer, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he walked inside, two men already occupying it. He recognized the first as Jared, but the second he’d never seen before. He was older, with graying hair and a beard, dressed professionally, kind eyes gently weighing him. It made Jensen uneasy, and he looked at Jared questioningly when both men stood to greet him.
“Jensen, hi,” Jared said awkwardly, avoiding Jensen’s eyes, clearing his throat, and gesturing to the man beside him. “This is Dr. Anderson. He’s a friend of Tracy’s. He’s…someone who can help.”
Jensen stood there and stared dumbly, looking back and forth between Jared and Dr. Anderson in confusion. What the fuck had Jared done?
“Hello, Jensen,” Dr. Anderson said softly, stepping forward and extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Jensen gaped at Jared before he turned and left, the door slamming behind him, Jared’s rushed apology carrying through the offending noise. And then Jared was behind him, following him and grabbing him by the arm.
“Don’t you fucking look at me like that,” Jared spat, and Jensen glanced around, aware of nearby crew members. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
Jensen grabbed Jared and brought him into the opposite trailer, closing the door behind them.
“Look at you like what, Jared?”
“Like I went behind your back to do this!” Jared shouted. “Like I betrayed you. Don’t you fucking do it.”
“Well, what the fuck was that, Jared?” Jensen shouted back, surprised at his own voice, though he recognized the pounding in his chest as fear rather than anger. People were going to know now. “Jesus!”
“Jensen, you need help,” Jared said, gripping Jensen by the shoulders. “That’s what Dr. Anderson is there for. You have to talk to him!”
“Oh, really?” Jensen shoved Jared away from him. “Really, Jared? And what the fuck am I supposed to tell him, exactly? ‘You wouldn’t understand, there are Hellhounds on my tail’?”
“Shit, Jensen, I don’t know, you’ve been pretty fucking good at lying lately, so I’m sure you can come up with something!”
“Forget it,” Jensen said, turning away. “Forget it, Jared. I’m not talking to a goddamn shrink.”
“Oh, like a shrink isn’t what you need right now?” Jared asked incredulously. “Incase you haven’t noticed Jensen, you just tried to kill yourself!”
“I had reasons!” Jensen shouted, turning back around. “A fucking shrink isn’t gonna fix that! He can’t fix me! Nothing can, Jared! And it’s not because I’m some pathetic psych case! It’s because I’m fucking realistic, and I know the truth, Jared! I’m going to die, whether you like it or not!”
“Jensen,” Jared spoke quietly, after taking a moment to compose himself, “You’re talking to this man. Okay? I don’t care what you think is gonna happen, whether you think I’m being stupid for thinking I can save you…I don’t care. Just, please, please, talk to this man.”
Jensen stared at Jared, saw the desperation and unshed tears in his eyes, his hands pressed together in a pleading gesture. Why was Jared still clinging to this?
“No.” Jensen shook his head, an outright refusal, and he watched Jared’s hands fall, his posture straighten, and his face go blank. “You can’t force someone to get help, Jared,” he said, pulling from all the speeches he’d heard over the years about not being able to help someone who doesn’t want the help in the first place. “And you can’t force me. I’m not going through this. Not when it doesn’t even matter. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”
“You’re so ready to accept that,” Jared replied, shaking his head, his voice a near whisper. “God, you won’t even try.”
“They’re gonna need us both on set in a few minutes,” was all Jensen said in response, and Jared looked at him as if he’d been wounded. But Jensen was too afraid of facing the doctor to agree. It still hurt him to see Jared like that, but he couldn’t go talk about his feelings to some shrink. He didn’t need to. It would only make things worse by bringing another person into this.
Jensen hated himself for doing this to Jared. But he had no other choice. And Jared would give up and get on with his life sooner or later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared turned away from Jensen and left to go back to his own trailer, feeling utterly defeated. He didn’t understand how Jensen could feel that way, how he could just give up on himself so easily. It was ridiculous how much they were becoming like their characters. He could hear Sam’s words in his head: “How can you care so little about yourself? What’s wrong with you?” He was still shaking his head when he entered his trailer, and he looked up at Dr. Anderson, shrugging in apology.
“I’m sorry,” Jared said, sniffling and rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m, uh…I’m sorry for wasting your time, Dr. Anderson. He’s…He doesn’t want any help. I don’t understand why, but he just…doesn’t.”
“Jared,” Dr. Anderson came over and placed a hand on his shoulder, “This wasn’t a waste of time. A lot of people refuse help the first time around. He may change his mind. And even if he doesn’t, I can still help.”
“How?” Jared asked. The doctor gave him a sympathetic look.
“Well, it seems to me like Jensen’s not the only person here who could use someone to talk to.”
Chapter 7: Showers and Dates
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-11-20 09:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-21 04:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-21 07:49 pm (UTC)But I do understand why Jared would call the doc in, the poor guy probably doesn't know what else to do and he'll do anything not to lose Jensen.
I do somehow think that the hellhounds are somehow connected to Jensen's psyche so maybe talking to the doc will help, you never know, as long as he doesn't get himself committed, lol.
Really interested to see where you're going to take this new situation, and very nervous about the hounds getting closer.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-21 11:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-22 12:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-22 12:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-22 09:14 am (UTC)Jensen has tried to kill himself!! awwwwwwwww.... the scene with the douche, the knife AND Jared turned me crazy.....
And the shrink....... wo... wo... wo...
no subject
Date: 2008-11-23 05:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-09 01:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-10 02:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-10 03:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-10 05:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-13 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 06:17 am (UTC)I also agree with Jensen - what will a shrink do? It is not that he is going to believe the hellhounds!
Thanks for writing this and sharing.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-15 03:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-15 11:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-15 06:17 am (UTC)It was ridiculous how much they were becoming like their characters. He could hear Sam’s words in his head: “How can you care so little about yourself? What’s wrong with you?” And that's what makes this so brilliant.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-05 12:15 pm (UTC)