alexisjane

Chapter Seventeen

When Jensen came to, for a moment he couldn't quite orientate himself. He was laid out on his bed, he knew that much. There were low voices coming from the other room, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. The afternoon sun was shining in the window, burning red through his eyelids. He buried his face into the pillow, scenting the vague smell of Jared before he accidentally bumped his lip. The pain was sharp and unexpected, and he let out a cry as the events of the day suddenly came flooding back, crushing him down into the mattress.

He heard footsteps in the doorway and opened one eye. Chris approached the bed and folded his arms across his chest. He looked pissed but Jensen could see the relief in his eyes. "You back with us?"

Jensen nodded slightly, and then wondered where the excruciating headache had come from. Chris huffed out a laugh as Jensen raised his hand to his forehead. "You landed on your head when you passed out so I don't think you've damaged anything important."

Jensen tried to glare, but could only manage a squint and to croak out, "Gee, thanks so much. Oh no wait, I meant, fuck you."

Chris laughed and reached down, sliding his arms under Jensen's arms and hauled him up into a sitting position. Jensen scooted himself up a little more and Chris sat down next to him. "What the fuck were you thinking, Jen?"

Jensen rubbed his hands over his face, trying to scrub away the fuzzy feeling behind his eyes. When he looked up he felt his chest constrict when he saw Jared standing quietly, leaning against the doorframe. Instantly, his eyes flicked to Chris. "They were here! Jesus Christ, Chris, they were here!"

The look on Chris's face changed from concerned friend to working detective instantaneously. Jensen's heart was racing again and his breathing picked up when he saw the look of terror on Jared's face, but Chris laid a hand on his chest and said calmly, "Jen, you need to calm down. You don't wanna pass out again. Just take a breath...good...Now tell me what you saw."

~•~

Overall, finally telling Jared the truth could have gone worse. At least that's what Jensen had thought as he lay on the floor of his apartment. He didn't bother getting up right away, just reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell and texted the first number in his contacts. Then he lay back down, running his tongue over the welt on his mouth and closed his eyes.

He was a little startled when his phone buzzed. He wasn't sure how long he'd lain there, rerunning his confession to Jared in his mind, watching the dawning horror on Jared's face, seeing the realization of what Jensen had done – what he was, sick fuck – change Jared's soft features into hard lines of judgment. He was mostly expecting the first punch, but not the second or third. When his phone buzzed again, Jensen hauled himself off the ground and staggered to the entrance.

Chris's face when Jensen opened the door was better than a mirror. Jensen smirked and then winced at the pain. "That bad, huh?"

Chris reached out and took hold of Jensen's jaw, turning it left and right, inspecting the damage. "Jesus. Well, it's gonna be colorful. Did you ice it?"

Jensen petulantly tore his head away and ushered Chris in. "Thanks for coming. I really don't think I should be here right now, but he shouldn't be on his own, and I don't know how to get hold of Chad –"

"Jen..." Chris's voice was gentle, full of sympathy and pity and Jensen couldn't stand it.

Jensen snatched up his wallet and keys, and dragged on a jacket, trying not to make eye contact. "I'm sorry. I've gotta go. He's in the bedroom. Just..." He sighed and looked up into Chris's worried face. He was never very good at hiding his emotions from his friend and from the way Chris was looking at him, he figured all his guilt and hurt was as evident as the damage to his face. "Just call me when he figures out what he wants to do. What he wants me to do. I'm just gonna–" He pointed with his thumb to the door, expecting a protest but it never came. Chris nodded and Jensen couldn't get out of there fast enough.

He got as far as the stairwell before his knees decided they'd rather not be walking and he slumped back against the wall. He knew Jared had yelled at him, swore and spat out words as he swung at him, a hideous contrast to his utter silence when Jensen had stuttered out his confession. But it was the look on Jared's face that was burnt into his mind. Hurt and disbelief but hard on their heels, anger and disgust.

Jensen's hands shook as he fumbled his cell from his pocket. He started to text, knowing it was a horrible idea but regardless, overtaken by the need to reach out to Jared; to comfort him. He got as far as I'm sorry when the stairway door banged open, and a tall skinny guy dressed in tan slacks, and matching jacket, barged through. Suddenly, texting Jared seemed like the stupidest idea Jensen ever had, so he hurried out of the corridor before the door even slammed shut.

His feet were heavy as he walked down the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the barren space. By the time he reached the open air, he was so glad for the relief from the claustrophobic stairway, he leant up against the side of the building for a moment.

His head ached from the walk down almost as much as his jaw did. He gingerly touched his chin, feeling the swollen flesh with his fingertips, his tongue flicking out over the split in his puffy lip and contemplated which bar he should start with. As there would definitely be more than one, if he could stay conscious long enough. His train of thought was interrupted again by the front door banging open next to him, and the guy in the pale suit that he’d seen upstairs, jogging down to the street.

There was something. Jensen couldn't quite pin it down, but there was something about the guy that pinged his police radar, and all the thoughts of whiskey or beer were put on the back burner.

The guy looked ordinary. There was something about his demeanor though. He seemed twitchy, stressed. And the way he was looking around, like he was searching for something. Or someone. When the guy moved off down the street, Jensen waited a beat, and then slowly stepped out of the shadows and followed him.

He didn't have to go far. The Suit crossed the street, and headed around the corner. Jensen hung back, hoping that he wasn't being too obvious. The Suit walked a short way down the street and up to the driver’s side of a black van. He spoke calmly to the driver but then started gesticulating back the way he came. Jensen strained to pick up on any snatch of the conversation but it was lost in the night. The Suit blathered on until the driver reached out and grabbed the guy's lapel. He snapped his mouth shut, nodded and shook his head in small, sharp motions, until the driver released him and he stumbled back a step. Then he slid open the side panel of the van, climbed inside and the van pulled away.

Jensen slowly walked out from his cover, regarding the diminishing shape of the van as it blended in with the rest of the traffic. It bothered him. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why but it really bothered him.

Looking up to get his bearings, he figured Murphy's Tavern was closest now and there was undoubtedly a bottle of Jack with his name on it, so he got moving.

Except, he couldn't stop thinking about the van. The guy had been off, no two ways about that, but it was the van that was really bothering him. It wasn't exactly a Bundy-mobile. It looked new, shiny, like someone really took care of it. And the way the driver gently pulled away from the curb, he didn't exactly seem like the type to drive like he was in Grand Theft Auto.

Jensen stopped. Gently pulling away from the curb. He’d seen that before. Not anything similar. He’d seen that exact same thing before. He replayed it in his mind. The turn signal flashing; the way the tires seemed to turn before the van began to move; the way it eased out into the street. Jensen had definitely seen it before.

Slowly, he turned. He intended to walk but the sudden fear that gripped him had him running back to the apartment before he even realized it.

~•~

"And then I passed out." Jensen smiled slightly, hoping it would ease the stress on Chris's face. It didn't. It just made Chris fold his arms tight across his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jensen cut him off. "So help me, you better not be about to give me a lecture about not exerting myself, Chris." Jensen rubbed at the soreness on his forehead. "I thought you might be dead, that he could have killed you. I couldn't..." He didn't finish, couldn't face the words coming out of his mouth, or the reception they might get. Because all three men knew they were directed at Jared, even if Jensen's eyes were in his lap.

Chris stayed mercifully quiet, simply reached out and squeezed Jensen's shoulder, and said, "It doesn't matter. We're okay. You're an idiot but at least there's no change there." That got a choking half-laugh from Jensen but it was enough to break the tension. Chris stood and started to walk away. "Get cleaned up. We have a lead now. There's lots to talk about."

Jensen nodded and glanced up to watch him go. Chris disappeared behind Jared, who was still standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on his crutches. He was watching Jensen wearily, like he'd taken all the light and life in him and locked it away. A thousand things rushed through Jensen's mind, all the things he could say, should say, but all that came out was, "Are you staying?"

Jared’s face stayed blank and emotionless as he awkwardly maneuvered his crutches and loped out the door.

~•~

Chris and Jared were most of the way through their beers when Jensen finally joined them. He'd showered and pulled on sweatpants and his old police academy sweater, not much caring how he looked, just craving the comfort. His body was starting to ache from the run and taking a floor to the face. It had been a while since that had happened. The damage to his heart had come from the infection he got after surgery, rather than the gunshot itself. He'd been reassured that he would lead a long healthy life, as long as he kept taking the meds to keep his blood pressure low. It meant that his days of working out until he puked were over. Passing out was the new black. At least this time he hadn't pissed himself.

Chris held out a bottle of water to him from his spot on the couch. Jensen took it and bit back the urge to bitch about being beer-less, instead slumping down onto the cushions next to him, asking, "So. Where are we?"

"We looked through the tapes." Chris pointedly ignored the way Jared shifted and twitched at their mention, and continued. "It seems like the van started showing up on the 25th. We were trying to figure out if Jared could remember whether anything changed around then. If he done, or seen, anything unusual."

Jensen sat forwards with his elbows on his knees, nodding, and cracked open the seal of the bottle in his hands. He'd decided in the shower that the only way to handle the horrible situation was to meet it head on. He looked Jared in the eye and asked, "Did you think of anything?"

For a second, Jared seemed stunned. Like he wasn't expecting Jensen to carry on like nothing had happened. Like Jared hadn't been pounding his face into the floor a few hours before. He looked blankly at Jensen, then with slightly more concern at Chris. Chris shrugged, so Jared just frowned at his beer and stumbled out, "Well, um, n-not really. I-I can't think..."

Jensen mumbled under his breath and rubbed his temple. His head was still pounding. The 25th. He felt a flush of heat in his cheeks as he mentally ran through the dates in his head. He coughed. "Well. There was the bike."

Chris looked questioningly at him. "The bike?"

Jensen pulled at the frayed collar of his sweatshirt. He glanced up at Jared, his stomach twisting to see the stony glare he was fixed with. He cleared his throat but his voice still came out croaky with shame. "Um, yeah. That was around the time Jared bought a new bike." He could feel the blush bloom on his cheeks and tried to ignore the way Jared muttered something hateful under his breath.

Chris asked, "Is that right? You pay for it yourself?"

Jared's jaw was clenching and he pointedly looked at anything but Jensen, but nodded at Chris's question. "Yeah. I did a job for someone. Spent the money on the bike."

Jensen glanced at Chris, who was already sitting up in his seat. "What kind of job?"

"Um. He was having issues with his laptop. Lost some work files he wanted me to recover."

Chris nodded and looked over at Jensen, with the expression he would always get back when they were working a case together and suddenly all the pieces started to fit together. "So, you know about computers?"

Jared shrugged and looked down at his hands. "I guess so."

"Wait," Jensen turned his head a little too quickly and winced at the stabbing pain in his temple, "You have a record. A sealed juvie record..." The thought had just popped into his head. It was a stretch but worth asking.

Jared coughed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It didn't take long with Chris's death glare on him to confess. "Yeah. Okay. I got a suspended sentence for hacking. I was fifteen and stupid and angry. That make you happy?"

Jensen ignored the words and just scowled. "Did the guy know this? That you know more than just how to change a password?"

The anger on Jared's face started to slip away. "I...I don't know. Maybe. It's not exactly common knowledge but I don't really keep it a secret either."

Chris huffed out a laugh and ducked his head to look at Jensen and muttered quietly, "He doesn't keep it a secret." The forced amusement was gone when he swung his head up to yell at Jared. "Well, you didn't damn well tell us, did you?"

Jared looked more pissed than guilty, but it was there in his eyes when he yelled back. "Well, I'm sorry, but I didn't think it was relevant!"

At the sound of Chris's deep inhalation signaling another, louder exchange, Jensen held up his hands. "Guys! Please! Some of us have a head injury." He pressed his eyes closed for a moment and felt some of the tension in the room dissipate. Squeezing the bridge of his nose, he asked, "So, does laptop guy have a name?"

Jared sighed out, "Paul," then realizing the two men were staring at him, clearly waiting for more, he added, "That's it! Just Paul."

"Seriously?" Chris sounded tired and quite frankly, Jensen didn't blame him.

Jared shrugged. "Yes! He was a regular. He paid me in cash. Wanted to keep it on the down low. I'm not surprised given the staggering amount of porn on his hard drive, but really, it was just me doing him a favor...for money. Surprisingly, I didn't feel the need to invoice him."

Chris rubbed at his eyes. "But you'd recognize him again?"

"Oh, sure." Jared adjusted his cast leg before looking up and saying absently, "I think I still have his number?"

Jared started rooting around in his pocket for his phone. Jensen had to stifle a laugh when Chris looked over at him, all wide eyes, and mouthed, Un-fucking-believeable as Jared made the call.

Jared pulled his cell slowly from his ear. "It's disconnected."

Jensen nodded. "Probably a burner."

Jared sighed. "Well, I guess I'll just have to get my ass down there and point him out, then."

He looked shocked when Jensen and Chris replied simultaneously with a resounding, "No!"

Jensen shook his head vehemently despite the pain. "No way. It's bad enough that they followed Chris here. No way in Hell are you putting yourself out there now."

"So what do you suggest, huh?" Jared glared at him. "You want me to psychically locate the guy from here?"

Chris and Jensen looked at each other for a moment, until Jensen turned to Jared and asked, "What do you know about digital cameras?"

Masterpost / Chapter Eighteen >>>>>