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Title: Ohne Dich
Author: rose-the-hat
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: R (?)
Words: 30K (?)
Summary: In which Jared is seriously hurt, and Jensen breaks down
Notes: : Final installment in the October Rust ‘Verse. Previous reading is necessary.
The Power Behind The Throne was just supposed to be a one-shot PWP about a mob boss who was submissive to his subordinate. As I worked on it, it got more plotty. Then, I wrote the sequel, King Nothing. Then I wrote a timestamp, and a sequel to that. Now, I give you the finale.
Thank you to anyone and everyone who has read, commented, or left kudos. Thank you to Jen, for looking things over (and over and over) and listening, and for providing art. She’s a great lady.
Title comes from a song by the German industrial metal band Rammstein.
Jensen sighs, looking at the stack of papers on his desk: contracts and proposals for his review or signature, profits, losses, and quarterly expense reports. All very legal and above-board, but also very boring. Jensen had been a legit businessman for thirty years and while it was challenging to pick and choose investment opportunities, and satisfying to watch them grow, to handle mergers and takeovers, none of it gave him the charge his illicit activities did. As Jensen made his way through the papers, he found himself almost wishing for a little excitement.
He had thought that after Lazaro died in April that it was going to be the start of something, but other than a few Marchesi associates roughing up Ackles soldiers who were out collecting nothing had happened. They seemed to have gone to ground and Jensen took that to mean they were planning a new strike, but four months had passed and no sign of any Marchesis. Maybe they realized without Lazaro’s connections they couldn’t hope to come at the Organization. He was a little disappointed. Maybe he was heading toward a mid-life crisis.
Jensen’s office line rang. He picked it up and greeted his assistant. “Yes, Hannah?”
“Mr. Ackles, Mr. Welling is asking to see you.”
“Sure. Send him in.”
“Jensen?” Tommy Blue poked his wavy salt and pepper head into Jensen’s office.
He smiled at his friend. Tommy Blue and Mad Mike were still together, still going strong. The couple had even ran away to Vegas to make it legal six years ago. Jensen was happy for them. They made a good match, Tommy the more sedate balance to Mike’s…well, madness. “Hey ya, Tommy. What’s up?”
Tommy comes fully into the room, gently closing the door behind him. He was always the most serious of his IC and Jensen knows that this isn’t a happy catch-up visit to break the monotony. While Tommy is COO of Ackles Enterprises, Jensen knows this is Organization business. He is immediately intrigued. Maybe the Marchesis were making moves at last. “I brought some folks to see you, Boss.”
Jensen’s brows draw together. “Oh?” He sits up a little straighter, and steeples his fingers.
“Some business owners in our territory. They, well, they should probably talk to you themselves.”
“Yeah, sure. Show ‘em in.” Jensen stands and comes from behind his massive walnut desk.
Tommy opens the door, and four people, three men and one woman come in.
“Tommy said you have something to tell me?” Jensen says flashing his PR smile and doing his best to project a friendly air. He didn’t think it worked. How could Jared, who was much bigger, so effortlessly put people at ease? Jensen guessed it had something to do with his dewy eyes and dimples.
The woman cleared her throat. She was curvy, blonde, with laughing blue eyes that darted nervously around the room. “Mr. Ackles, sir. I own a women’s only gym on Ballard Avenue and for the past week some clients have noticed men loitering around outside. They don’t do anything, they just stand and watch. But today when I went in to open up,” her eyes misted. “The equipment was vandalized and there were…messages written on the walls.”
Jensen clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might need to make a dental appointment. Fucking Marchesis. He absolutely knew it. They were making their first moves on the chess board.
“Ms…?”
“Buckmaster.”
“Ms. Buckmaster, I am so very sorry that happened to you. But, I can assure you everything will be taken care of. Please, inform Tommy of any financial recompense you may need. Okay?”
He turns his attention to the three men who came in with her. “And you gentlemen?”
“I’m Lewis Claymore, sir. I have a sandwich shop and deli business Wickford Street. My window glass was busted out and store vandalized.”
“Sir, I have a plumbing business. Nothing has happened yet, but a couple of burly guys have been hanging around. When the Claymore Deli was vandalized, one of the dudes came in and intimated that he could protect my business from similar damage, for a price.”
Jensen exhaled and clenched his jaw again. Vandalism, intimidation, and extortion. Not on his fucking watch, not in his fucking territory.
“Mr. Ackles, sir. I’m not sure you would remember, but you arranged a loan so I was able to start my business; your husband comes in to chat sometimes,” the third man was slight and pretty with box-dyed black hair with bright pink streaks mixed in. He had a hint of lipstick and eye shadow on to accentuate his full mouth and pretty blue eyes. If Jensen was a jealous type he’d be a little less friendly to the cute twink addressing him. “I do a steady business in dressmaking and tailoring at my shop, You Sew and Sew.”
Jensen smiled at the cute pun. “I think I remember. Jared talks about your shop; says you really know what you’re doing.” Jared had said nothing of the kind, but if it helped put the young man more at ease it was okay.
The twink blushed. “I try, but like Mr. Claymore said. Some goons have been hanging around and it affects my business. People are afraid to come in.”
Jensen scowled. “Have you been approached about “protection” yet?”
“No, sir.”
“I guarantee you probably will be.” He turned to the victimized people as a whole. “It will not stand, you get me? I will see to it you are recompensed for any damage and those responsible will be held accountable.” Wickford and Ballard were all on the west side, which was why they contacted Tommy Blue. The west side was his territory to oversee. How soon until Lazy Jace, Stevie Guitar, or Kane come to him with similar intimidation tactics for those in their territory? Jensen would try to head the fucking Marchesi goons off at the pass.
“Just contact Mr. Welling. He and I will coordinate everything. I really appreciate you coming to me with this. It will not happen again.” He fixed each person with his most meaningful intimidating stare. When he said something he goddamn well meant it. He hadn’t earned respect and loyalty over the years with empty words and promises. He backed his shit up.
He shook hands with each person and they warmly thanked him, then they were gone, but Tommy Blue remained.
“Fucking Marchesis,” Jensen spat.
Tommy nodded. “I’ll see that there are more of our people stationed throughout the west side. I’ll get ahold of Jase, Kane and Stevie, tell them to up the security in their territories as well.”
“I’m gonna contact some of our people in law enforcement. They won’t have Lazaro’s protection. This stops now, Tommy. Your guys see the same people loitering around places of business you haul them in and take them to The Ranch. You hear me?”
Tommy’s spine stiffened and his deep blue eyes were hard and intense. “Loud and clear, sir.”
Jensen dismissed him with a nod.
Well, Jensen had wanted some excitement. Now, he had gotten it.
Something had happened. That was the only reason why Jared would interrupt a board meeting. Jared did have a position at Ackles Enterprises in their Alternative Energy division, but that was mostly on paper, though Jared was smart and always had a keen mind for new (legitimate) business ventures or investment opportunities. Jensen’s slightly bashful PR-perfect mask slipped for a second as his mind whirled with what could be so bad Jared was coming here himself to deliver news. Was Colin okay? Emma? The kids? Kane? His other close friends. Jensen kept his phone off, as he always did when meeting with board members, wanting to give his full attention to the matters at hand. Jared, Colin, and the other IC members could act in his stead for anything Organization related. But here Jared was, face unreadable, as he silently closed the door, clasped his hands in front of him—looking every bit the Enforcer he was—and waited.
“A moment, please, ladies and gentlemen,” Jensen says rising and striding over to the door. He keeps his back to the board members, no doubt curious about the goings-on, as he inquires, “What’s happened?”
Jared dips his head and keeps his voice low, lips barely moving. “AJ and Travis are dead.”
Jensen closed his eyes. Shit. His people knew exactly what they were getting involved in when they joined the Organization, but that didn’t mean it ever got easier when someone died. He had known AJ and Travis for years, had assigned them to the pawn shop and chop shop after ordering the deaths of Ritchie the Chin, Mark Pellegrino and Freddy Lehne. They ran their shops under the radar and ran them well; righteous cops never came sniffing around. Most importantly, they were loyal to Jensen and loyalty was everything to him. Jensen fucking cared about his people no matter where they were on the totem. He would set their families up for the rest of their lives. The money could never compensate his family for their loss but it could make their lives easier.
“How?”
“Marchesis firebombed their shops.”
The shit had started pretty tame and was starting to escalate. After the business owners in Tommy Blue’s territory had come to Jensen with their troubles, Jensen had launched a counterattack. Lazaro Marchesi had told Jensen he would offer no protection and he meant it. Jensen had used his own in the Dallas PD and FBI to hit the Marchesi’s hard. He had their whorehouses raided, arranged prostitution stings, drug raids, and raids on gambling dens. They were in legal hot water and would continue to be for a very long time, but that wasn’t stopping them. Now, AJ and Travis were dead and their blood was on Jensen’s hands.
“Fuck,” Jensen said under his breath.
The board members were shifting in their chair, trying to listen in, but not be obvious about it.
“Anyone else hurt?”
“A few pedestrians, shops were empty at the time. Tommy Blue is going to see to them about any medical bills or anything they need. None of our people but Trav and AJ. This requires an answer, Jense. Intimidation and extortion of people in our territory was one thing. This? This was an act of war.”
Jensen gazed up into Jared’s face, saw longing and hunger in his eyes, but not for sex; no, Jared was hungry for blood, destruction, and death. Jensen knows Jared is right. If he had let Jared have free reign when the Marchesis first came around Ackles controlled territory this may never have happened. For the first time in a very long time Jensen wants his father, wishes he were here to give some guidance.
“Jare, you’re off the leash, understand? Whatever it takes. This will not happen again.”
Jared nods, eyes grave but still alight with bloodlust. He turns and exits the boardroom.
Jensen turns back to the other board members. He flashes them his most winning PR smile. “So sorry for the interruption.”
Jensen arrives at the Ackles Compound mansion around eight. He had a late night at the office, dealing with the finer points of the new division Ackles Enterprises was launching. The house is eerily quiet. The main house’s permanent residents—Kane, Stevie Guitar, Lazy Jase, and Jared—were all out tending to Organization business. The house feels unusually lonely and cavernous without them. Not even Jared was around much these days. He was away from the Ackles compound five out of seven days. Lately, he, Colin, and Kane had their heads together, no doubt planning some retaliation for the firebombing of AJ’s Pawn & Loan and Wester’s Junk & Salvage.
Part of Jensen was eager to see what they were coming up with. Whatever it was, had nothing to do with the activities the press was reporting on: the murders of Marchesi Caporegimes. So far Jared had taken out four of the Marchesis Capos. The bodies had been found disfigured and mutilated. Those were the only bodies that had turned up; Jensen was aware that several other soldiers and associates had also been quietly dealt with, if not by Jared directly, then under his, or possibly Colin’s, orders.
The press was sensationalizing the murders of the Capos, saying Dallas had a vigilante superhero out there cleaning up the streets. The cops were another matter, and Jensen used his influence to nudge investigators away from any of his guys.
The click of his footsteps echoes off the marble foyer. He wanders through the dining room to the kitchen. There are good smells to greet him from the oven and pots simmering on the Viking stove. There is a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a pie cooling on the counter.
“Good evening, Mr. Ackles,” Amy says coming in from the pantry with a bag of coffee beans to grind for tomorrows coffee. “Is the other Mr. Ackles home? Would you like dinner to be served?”
“Not yet, Ms. Gumenick. I am sorry for our tardiness. Please keep the meal warm as long as you can, but I don’t expect anyone else home for a while yet. Bring some coffee to me in the living room, please.”
“Of course, Mr. Ackles.”
Jensen gives her a smile and turns to leave.
He is on his second cup of coffee when the front door opens and he hears chatter from Jared and what sounds like Colin and Kane.
“You’re a sick fuck, Jared,” Kane says but there is laughter in his voice.
“No, Jay has just seen The Godfather way too many fucking times.”
“Blood all over me and under my damn fingernails,” Kane gripes.
“Peroxide,” Colin and Jared say at the same time.
Jensen sighs, pushing to his feet. What the hell have they done? “Someone care to tell me what’s going on,” Jensen calls.
The three men saunter into the living room. They obviously made an effort to clean up but there is still a lot of blood on each of them, and a whiff of smoke. Jensen starts running through a list of people he may need to contact or buy off to keep his husband, son, and best friend out of trouble.
“Sent a little present to Vincenzo Marchesi,” Kane says smirking.
Jensen arches a brow. “Care to elaborate?” Jensen says deadpan.
“Vinny Marchesi is heavy into horse racing and breeding,” Colin says. “He keeps a horse ranch for breeding thoroughbred prize-winning race horses. We burnt the stables to the ground and slaughtered all the valuable horses. And because Jay is a fucking Godfather fanboy,” he cuts his eyes to Jared. “He and Kane delivered the decapitated carcass of Vinny’s personal racehorse to his front lawn.”
Jared is grinning that cold crazy grin, and goddamn if Jensen’s doesn’t feel a pulse of arousal. “Don’t worry, Jense, we used nondescript cars and stolen plates.”
“In case they aren’t,” Colin cuts across. “I’ve already got them airtight alibis.”
“Vincenzo Marchesi isn’t likely to go to the cops about any of this. This is personal Family business and no one in law enforcement or the legal community want to touch them now. But make no mistake, they will retaliate for this.”
“We’ll be ready, Boss,” Kane says.
When nine rolls around, the music ceases—Jensen and Jared had long since stopped dancing, choosing instead to partake of the excellent food that was on offer—and the lights dim. Jensen, with Jared at his side, is ushered into the middle of the room for the cake presentation. His friends and family all shove and slap him on the back, and offer teasing greetings.
“Who’s old now?” Doc Morgan says with a shit eating grin and a hearty slap to the back. “Let me know if you need an ED ‘script!”
That gets a loud shout of laughter from Mad Mike, Tommy Blue, and Lazy Jace. Some of the younger, newer IC members are unsure if they should laugh at the outgoing Boss.
“Save it for yourself,” Jared shoots back. “Old man.”
“Always talking about your sex lives, I fucking swear,” Colin grouses but is smiling wide and happy. For the moment the mask of Stone-Cold Colin, the Organization’s new Boss, is gone and Colin is just Jensen and Jared’s son.
“I think it’s sweet,” Kathryn Newton said smiling a sappy dreamy smile at them. She was one of Colin’s friends from Stanford. She had financed her education moonlighting as a cat burglar. Jensen had put her to work in the fencing arm of his Organization.
“You’re precious, Kitty Kat,” Jared said giving a wink to the young woman.
Once Jensen is center stage, Megalyn—daughter of Loretta Devine—wheels out a large round two-tier cake topped with sparklers shooting pretty multi-colored sparks into the air. The guests sing a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. As the song ends, the lights come back up, and Jensen blows out the scuttering fireworks.
Jensen feels a bit uncomfortable with so many eyes on him, but Jared is there right at his side, strong and reassuring presence, as he always has been. He also feels very loved, with his family and close friends surrounding him and also respected by both his associates here, all gathered to show respect and give him (and Jared) a happy send off. He gazes around at the smiling singing faces and thinks about those who are missing.
Jensen sat heavily in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. This shit had been going on for eight months now, and he was sick of it. He had no doubt his Organization would come out on top, but the getting there was going to be tough. His guys were tough; tough and loyal. The Marchesis were like cockroaches. Whenever Jensen felt sure that they were done they fucking came back with a vengeance.
Marco, Vincenzo, Angelo and Angie Marchesi had taken heavy losses recently with Tommy, Kane, Stevie and Jase coordinating attacks in Marchesi territory. Jared and Colin had been working overtime at The Ranch doing interrogations. The Marchesi siblings had overinflated egos from not directly suffering any consequences for their repeated attacks. That was soon going to change. Jensen had authorized Jared and Colin to go after Angie Marchesi, but doing so would require careful planning. Jensen had faith in his husband and son’s cunning, as well as their brutality. Angie Marchesi was beautiful with voluminous jet black hair that rippled down her elegant back, well-rounded curves, long well-shaped legs, beautiful caramel brown eyes, and full lips. She was the baby of the Family and the darling of her older brothers. Let’s see those bastards keep this shit up with their baby sister in Cujo and Stone-Cold Colin’s clutches.
He titled his head back and closed his eyes, hoping for a few moments rest. His office door opened, light from the hall splashed across the Turkish rug then was gone as the door was closed. He knew it wasn’t Jared by the tread of footsteps. Jared moved like a cat, and only made sound when he wanted to. Given the environment he found himself in he should be more alarmed at someone just walking into his office, but this was his private home and felt safe here. Nonetheless, Jensen reached into his jacket cocked the hammer and pulled out his .45.
He pulled it out as a man dropped into the chair across from his. “Fuck. Kane. You trying to get blown away? You know this has a hair trigger.” Jensen uncocked his gun, put the safety on, and replaced it in his holster.
Kane shrugged and grinned at him. “Had you really thought you were in danger you woulda shot first and asked questions later.”
Jensen sighs. “Maybe. I’m getting old.”
Kane knocked the toe of a boot against Jensen’s foot. “If you’re old what does that make me?”
Jensen gives a weak smile. Kane was two years older than Jensen. He gazed at his friend, looking older and more weathered but it suited him much more than the slick and polished lifestyle Jensen preferred. He could see Kane on a ranch or rodeo circuit in another life. He thought about that a lot recently; what his guys would be doing in another life, particularly after AJ and Travis’ deaths.
Kane was a struggling junior at UTD, mostly drifting and going through the motions, when Jensen met him at a clandestine high-stakes poker game. Kane had lost big and was sure Jensen was going to put a hurt on him, but Jensen had a good feeling about Kane, covered his debt, and brought him into the Organization. He had never regretted that decision. Until Jared came along, Kane was the roughest and toughest son of a bitch in his Organization, not afraid to get his hands dirty, but lacked Jared’s taste for true violence.
“Where’s your man?”
“At the Ranch with Colin, I think. Doubt he’ll be home tonight.”
“Can you even handle one night without him?” Kane’s eyes danced with a teasing light.
“Fuck off,” Jensen retorted. He and Jared had spent many nights apart over the last months. To be honest he was as sick of that as he was of everything else.
“Fucking pathetic,” Kane raked a hand through his grey-streaked brown hair. “Got anything to drink?”
Jensen nodded and pushed up to his feet. He had a little bar set up and Kane knew it, but Kane wasn’t the type of guy to help himself to Jensen’s expensive liquor. Jensen poured himself a couple of fingers of Glenfiddich—Jared’s brand but Jensen was worried and missing him—and good ol’ Jack Daniels for Kane.
“Here, you fuckin’ redneck.” Jensen handed him a heavy crystal tumbler and sat back down.
Kane slammed the whiskey back and grinned. “Don’t gotta be fifty years old and cost thousands to be good, you fuckin’ snob.”
Jensen grinned and sipped Jared’s scotch. He hoped his husband would get some answers and be home soon. The two friends lapsed into silence. Kane motioned to the bar with his empty glass. Jensen gave an upward nod for his friend to refill his glass. Jensen watched Kane saunter over to the bar with a rangy rolling gait that made Jensen think of a gunslinger and wondered if his old friend had someone in his life he was missing and worrying about. Kane made no secret of his numerous trysts, but in the last year or two he had stopped bragging about all his conquests.
Now that he thought about it, Stevie Guitar had ceased his tomcatting around that time as well. Kane and Stevie were always close, had been friends before Jensen met Kane. Maybe Kane and Stevie Guitar? Nah. Kane had been a pussy hound as long as Jensen had known him, but still…. Was it really out of the realm of possibility for Kane and Stevie to have made the leap from friendship to something a little deeper? Jensen disliked it when people discussed his private life and so didn’t pry into the private lives of his friends. And Jensen wasn’t so closed minded to think that Kane and Stevie Guitar couldn’t make the leap from friends to lovers. If they had Jensen was happy for them. Or if Kane had someone else in his life that made him cease chasing women he was still happy for him. Kane was a good guy, tough, loyal, a bit of a wisecracking asshole, but in a charming way and deserved some measure of happiness.
“Weird, isn’t it?” Kane said quietly, musingly, breaking their comfortable silence.
“Hmm?” Jensen responded.
“These kids, getting it done, down and dirty.” Colin’s crew were not exactly “kids” but Jensen understood where Kane was coming from. Shit. It seemed not that long ago that he was Colin’s age, learning the ropes and gradually taking over for his father. Life was a wheel and everything came around.
“We were kids once, too, old man,”
“Yeah. When did that happen? Like, sometimes I’ll be shaving and not recognize the face staring back at me. Fuck, Jensen. I saw a fuckin’ grey hair in my short and curlies! What the fuck is happening?” Kane grumped.
Jensen felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “I do not need to know your pubes are going grey, Kane.”
“Hey, just because you are a secretive bastard doesn’t mean the rest of us are. I’m a caring and sharing type of guy.”
Jensen arched a brow. “I am not “secretive”. I am private. There is a difference, you ass.”
“Yeah, yeah. Little Boss Chev is the same way.” His blue eyes narrow and he gazes speculatively at Jensen. “You sure he’s not your blood son?”
Jensen rolls his eyes. “Gold Star Gay, Kane. I’ve never even kissed a woman let alone anything else.” He shuddered at the thought.
Kane waved a hand. “Little Jay’s then. They both got that eye thing. If you don’t look too deep they seem nice and innocent. Doe eyes.”
Jensen smiled, musing. It was true. Colin and Jared were physically a lot alike; both tall and lean, similar angular faces and soulful eyes. Colin was like Jensen in a lot of ways as well: clinical, thoughtful, cunning, and calculating. But also ruthless and brutal, like Jared could be. Jensen chuckled. He could be pretty ruthless himself. He never shied away from doing what needed to be done. Sometimes, if Jensen thought about it, he wondered whether Colin was really more Jared’s son than his. It further cemented what Jensen already knew, Colin would be a great Boss when the time came.
“I want you and your guys to be careful and vigilant when you go collecting,” Jensen said.
“Got it, Boss.”
“I mean it, Kane. Jared and Colin are planning something major. I don’t know how much you know, but the Marchesis will retaliate—when or where is up in the air. We’ve buried Trav and AJ. I don’t want to bury you.”
Kane sobered. He nodded, eyes grave. “Me and my guys know what we’re doing, Jensen. We’ll be alright.”
But they weren’t.
The Marchesis planted a shit load of C-4 in Kane’s car and it exploded. Jensen ended up burying what was left of not one, but two, of his oldest, dearest friends: Christian “Kane” Short and Steven “Stevie Guitar” Carlson.
“Speech!” Jared’s booming voice brings Jensen back to the present. The other party guests applaud and add their own voices to Jared’s.
“Speech! Speech!”
Jensen gives a bashful smile and holds up a hand. The room quiets.
“Thank you,” Jensen begins. “Thank you for that. I, uh, I’m glad to be here amongst my friends and family celebrating my birthday. It’s a little surreal to tell the truth.” Jensen pauses. He had written a speech, but going over the words in his head now, it all feels trite and cheap.
He glances over at Jared, wanting to draw some fresh words and inspiration, but his brows are drawn together in a concerned frown as he stares at Jensen’s chest. Jensen dips his head, following Jared’s gaze, and sees a bright red dot in the center of his chest. Jensen can hear people around him exclaiming, and starting to scatter. Jensen is frozen. How can he be fucking frozen when the dot of a laser scope is aimed right at his heart? He should be moving, but all he can do is stare dumbly down at the spot.
It feels like slow motion and a blink. Jared is shoving Jensen away and pivoting, arms spreading wide as a rifle shot rings out. Party guests scream and scatter. Tommy Blue, Mad Mike, Gatling Gun Garret, and Lazy Jase close a circle around Jensen and Jared, and draw their weapons. A flower of blood blooms on the right side of Jared’s chest, and he goes down
“The Pavilion!” Emma shouts. “He’s running toward the Pavilion!”
“Go! Go! Go! You motherfuckers let him get away and I’ll kill you myself!” Colin barks out.
Screams. Gunshots.
Jensen’s hearing seems to cease. He falls to his knees, cradling Jared’s head in his lap. He registers Doc Morgan kneeling beside him, ripping Jared’s waistcoat and shirt open. There is a hole in Jared’s chest—.38 caliber the clinical part of Jensen’s mind guesses, trickling blood. Jared gasps, struggling to breathe. Doc Morgan folds up the remnants of Jared’s shirt and presses it hard against Jared’s wound. Jared makes a soundless gasp. He hears Doc Morgan saying something, relaying information, and he guesses someone has called an ambulance.
Jared gazes up at Jensen, worry radiating from his eyes. His mouth moves, but no words come out. Jensen doesn’t need them to. He knows what Jared is saying, asking. “Are you okay?”
Through his despair and terror Jensen nods, reassuring Jared as he lays dying in his arms. “I’m fine, Jared.” He has to reassure Jared that he is okay, because if Jared knows Jensen is okay then Jared will be okay. He has to be. That’s how it works!
Color leeches from Jared’s face and lips; his lovely golden tan fades to a sickly grey while his lips go from pretty pink, to white and oh god, blue. His eyes blink slowly as he gazes at Jensen.
“Don’t you fucking leave me, Jared,” Jensen tries for his Bog Boss Man voice but only gets a wheezing squeak past his lips. “Jared!”
Jared’s mouth opens to try and speak. Oh, God a waterfall of blood spills from his lips, dribbles down his chin, and throat. Jensen can read lips enough to know what Jared is saying. “I love you. Love you. Love you.”
Jensen’s vision blurs as scalding tears race down his cheeks. He pets Jared’s head. “I love you, too, Jared. You can’t leave me. You hear me!” Jared’s hazel eyes flutter and close even as his bloody mouth is still trying to tell Jensen he loves him and it’s okay. “You can’t leave me. You promised!”
Jared’s body goes limp and Jensen’s world goes dark.
The phone was ringing. Jensen came awake. He never slept very well without Jared beside him. Even years after his ordeal with Collins and the pit, Jensen still had nightmares—though they were far fewer now—and still disliked the dark. His heart jumped into his throat and settled there, beating like a battle drum. His mouth went dry and his throat seemed to swell. He loathed calls to his personal line in the middle of the night, perpetually thinking it was an IC member telling him something horrific had happened or was happening to Jared, or Colin. Not many people had Jensen’s direct line so it had to be someone he knew. Panting shakily, struggling with his mounting fear, he glanced at the display. His brows came together. It wasn’t anyone in his contacts calling. The number didn’t have a Dallas area code. His mind whirled. He didn’t think it was a California area code, so it wasn’t one of Colin’s friends. He swiped to answer.
“This is Jensen.” Cold swept over him as he heard a liquid sob come over the line. The caller sounded female.
“Jensen, is Jared there?”
His brows knitted in a frown. Definitely a woman, but not anyone he recognized. Why the hell was a crying woman calling for Jared? “No, not at the moment. Can I help?” Jensen asked flummoxed, but the anxiety started to ebb away a bit.
“I….It’s Tara.”
It clicks for Jensen then. The sobbing woman was Tara VanFlower, the long-time girlfriend of Jared’s oldest friend and former member of Jensen’s Inner Circle, Petrus Ratajczyk. The fact that she is crying makes dread close over Jensen like a thunderhead over the sun. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, Jensen.” Another sob and a watery sniffle. “We lost Peter last night.”
Jensen’s heart sinks. They hadn’t seen the big man since their wedding three years ago. He and Jared kept making plans to go out there and visit him but between one thing and another they never had. Now it was too late. Jensen had no doubt they would finally make it out to New York, but to attend a goddamn funeral. Shit.
“Tara, I am so very sorry. And I know this will break Jared’s heart.” He was not looking forward to telling his husband the man who had been both father-figure and brother was dead. Knowing Jared he would either stew about it or lash out in anger. Jensen would do everything he could to comfort Jared. “Any idea of the cause?”
“The doc is pretty sure it was an aortic aneurysm. Peter…” her voice breaks and hitches. Jensen feels his eyes sting. No more letters or calls from the Big Man to discuss whatever book they were reading or deep discussions about philosophy and theology. They had been reading The Karamazov Brothers, and Jensen had been looking forward to Pete’s bi-weekly call to discuss the last few chapters.
“Peter hated doctors. He…he had been complaining of heart…heart palpitations the last couple of days. I….” she breaks off into sobs then.
“I’m sure you tried. Pete could be stubborn. What can Jared and I do? Are arraignments taken care of?”
Tara was still sobbing, deep soul-rending sobs, the sound of someone whose soul-mate had been torn from them. Oh God. Jensen would be a fucking wreck if anything happened to Jared. He aches for Tara in that moment. Just imagining something happening to Jared has his heart pounding with anxiety.
“Whatever you want, whatever you and his sisters need, Jared and I will take care of it, understand? Send any and all bills to me or Jared. Y’all will have enough to deal with without worry about financial strain. Let me know when the funeral is. Jared and I want to be there.”
More sobs but Tara sounded as if she was struggling to regain some control over herself. “Oh, Jensen. Peter always told me you were good, despite what people say about you.”
Jensen notices she doesn’t mention Jared being good. Jensen isn’t so blinded by his love for Jared that he thinks Jared is “good” nor does Jensen confuse Jared’s many good qualities for goodness itself. Jared’s edge has always been what drew Jensen to him. “My notoriety has been greatly exaggerated,” Jensen says drolly.
“Peter never much talked about what he did down there,” she sniffs.
“He did security.” It’s not exactly a lie but not the entire truth either. If Pete didn’t want details of his life in organized crime to follow him back to Brooklyn Jensen would respect that. Pete was really too gentle for this life. “He was a big guy, people didn’t want to cross him, but he was so sweet, and polite, and gentle.”
A watery laugh. “Yeah, he was. I’m glad other people could see that. I’m gonna hang up now, Jensen. Me and Peter’s sisters have things to arrange.”
“All bills to me or Jared. Anything. I’ll see any medical bills are taken care of, too. You just grieve for him, remember him. Jare and I will take care of practical things. Shit. Can you give me the name of the hospital he’s at or have they released him to a mortuary yet? If you and his sisters don’t mind, Jared and I can take care of the funeral arrangements for you.”
“Oh, Jensen,” Tara sighs and begins to sob again.
“It’ll be okay again, I promise.” Jensen knows he wouldn’t survive if Jared died. He’d end his life to join him. Jared would do the same.
“He’s at the University Hospital in Brooklyn. He belonged to St. Agnes’ Church, also here in Brooklyn.”
“I know how important Pete’s faith was to him. We’ll honor that. Did he want to be cremated or have any special directives that you know of?”
She sniffs. “No, you know Pete. Nothing fancy or too much trouble.”
Jensen nods. “Yeah, that was Pete.”
“Thank you for everything, Jensen.”
“I’m happy to help however I can. I need to tell Jared now.”
Jared slipped into their bedroom near two o’clock. He looked tired but in a decent mood. Jensen hated that he was going to ruin it.
“Hey, Jense,” Jared swooped down and kissed him, quick and deep. When Jared pulled back his brows came together. “What’s wrong?”
“Jared, honey,” Jensen reached out and took one of Jared’s big hands in his.
Tension poured into Jared like a liquid. His shoulders stiffened, his back straightened, his eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
“Tara called me not too long before you got home. Pete’s gone, Jared.” Jensen gripped Jared’s hand hard enough to leave a bruise.
The expression on Jared’s face did not change. “What?”
“He’s gone, Jared. He died earlier today. Aortic aneurysm is what Tara told me.”
Jensen could see the muscle ticking in Jared’s jaw as he clenched and unclenched it. His mouth was a flat hard line. He ripped his hand from Jensen’s supporting grip. “Bullshit!” Jared turned his back and strode towards the walk-in closet. Jensen followed on his heels. Jared was literally trying to run from whatever pain and realization is beginning to sink in.
“Jared, I’m sorry, but it’s true. Pete’s gone.”
Jared pivoted, fast as a lightning stroke. Jensen stumbled back, arms flailing as he lost his balance. Despite his best efforts to remain upright, he landed flat on his ass. His ear was ringing and white spots popped before his eyes. And his jaw is aching like a bitch. It takes a moment to realize that Jared punched him. Never before in the twenty-three years they have been together has Jared ever hit him. He should be more shocked than he is but he had known Jared’s first reaction would be anger and to strike out, to cause pain for the pain he was feeling.
“Shut up! Stop saying that!” Jared shouts as he towers above Jensen. But the truth has sunk in for Jared. He knows Jensen would never lie to him and never pull this kind of joke. “Why are you lying to me?” Jared’s face crumpled as the truth set in. “Why are you doing this to me!”
Jensen pushed back to his feet, staggering a bit. “Jared, I’m sorry, honey. I know how much he meant to you, how much you loved him, but he’s gone.”
Jared’s face seemed to fold in on itself, brows pulling in, mouth trembling and pulling down, eyes filling with tears. The agonized wail he let loose as the realization sunk in that his oldest friend was dead broke Jensen’s heart. The strength seems to run out of him. Jensen darts forward catching Jared in his arms. Together they sink to the floor, the weight of their grief drawing them down.
“I’m sorry, Jared. I’m so sorry,” Jensen whispers in his ear and runs his fingers through Jared’s hair in a comforting caress.
“Petey! Petey! Petey!” Jared cried as he desperately clutched Jensen, buried his wet face in the crook of Jensen’s neck. His body shook with the force of his sobs. He had never seen Jared as broken and vulnerable as he was now, not even when Jared had confided the details of his time with Fuller. Jensen tightened his arms around his husband, trying his best to hold him together.
Jensen’s own grief at losing Pete, his friend and book-buddy, washed over him. He closed his eyes and let his own tears fall, but he knew his grief was nothing compared to Jared’s, who had been taken under Pete’s wing as a child of ten, protected and cared for, fed and loved. A friend, a brother, a found family after his own had been taken from him.
Jensen held Jared as he cried out his grief and pain, knowing the only thing he could do was to do exactly as he was and be there.
Jensen sat in the second pew, behind Tara and Pete’s surviving sisters and watched as Jared stepped up to the podium to eulogize his old friend. The casket Jared had selected was cedar, upholstered in plain white cotton; it was heavy and simple, like the man inside it. The only floral arrangement was a vase of white carnations. Tara and Pete’s sisters had stated that Pete would rather have donations to his favorite charities instead of a slew of useless—but lovely—flowers. Jensen and Jared had given fifteen thousand dollars apiece to each of Pete’s special causes—mental health, animal rescue, and literacy programs.
The casket was open and Pete looked to be only peacefully sleeping. The only extravagance was the Armani suit that Jared had quickly tailored to Pete’s impressive measurements. Jared had also added a hunter green waistcoat, matching tie and handkerchief; green being Peter’s favorite color, reflecting his love for nature. Jensen had tried to help Jared with the arrangements, but he had declined, saying it was something he had to do for Pete by himself. Jensen let him be.
The service had started with the Parish priest saying wonderful things about Pete, how he was always involved in the community and volunteered at the church. It was a completely different side to the big man. Then some of Pete’s old friends from the neighborhood—Johnny Kelly, Sal Abruscato, Josh Silver, and Kenny Hickey—all told humorous anecdotes about their friend. Then, it was Jared’s turn.
“I…uh,” Jared fiddled with the mic. “I’m not a religious man. I can’t even say I’m a good man, but Petey was.” Jared’s voice quivered and he dropped his head. He took several moments to collect himself before continuing. “I’m not sure I understood his goodness until I was older. Petey had a darkness in him, but I think that made the light of his goodness shine all the brighter. He had a depth and wisdom I wanted to attain but never could. He was my friend, my brother. For a long time he was everything to me, always there for me. He knew when I met my husband that I didn’t need him anymore and it was time to start his own life, find something, have something, for himself. He did.” Jared bowed his head again and exhaled forcefully.
Jensen wanted to go to him, lay a hand on his back, and try to give him some strength, but knew, like taking care of Pete’s final rites, Jared had to get through this on his own. Tara was weeping quietly in the front row, face buried in a handful of tissues. Jensen wanted to go to her as well, but she was enfolded and surrounded by Pete’s sisters. He can only imagine the pain she’s in right now and hopes it never visits him, but knowing someday it will. It was inevitable in their way of life. Though not Catholic, Jensen crossed himself—as he had often seen Pete do—and said a brief prayer for the safety of his family and friends.
Jared raised his head, and cleared his throat. His eyes shimmered with tears but his voice was strong and clear. “I wish he’d had more time with her. I wish he’d had more time with all of us. I love you, Petey. Rest well.”
Jared left the podium, and approached the open casket with his friend resting inside it. He laid a hand on the closed bottom of the casket, bowed his head for a few moments, then returned to his pew beside Jensen. Jensen enfolded him in his arms. Jared buried his face in his neck, and his arms came around Jensen tight, so tight, and together they grieved for their lost friend.
Author: rose-the-hat
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: R (?)
Words: 30K (?)
Summary: In which Jared is seriously hurt, and Jensen breaks down
Notes: : Final installment in the October Rust ‘Verse. Previous reading is necessary.
The Power Behind The Throne was just supposed to be a one-shot PWP about a mob boss who was submissive to his subordinate. As I worked on it, it got more plotty. Then, I wrote the sequel, King Nothing. Then I wrote a timestamp, and a sequel to that. Now, I give you the finale.
Thank you to anyone and everyone who has read, commented, or left kudos. Thank you to Jen, for looking things over (and over and over) and listening, and for providing art. She’s a great lady.
Title comes from a song by the German industrial metal band Rammstein.
Jensen sighs, looking at the stack of papers on his desk: contracts and proposals for his review or signature, profits, losses, and quarterly expense reports. All very legal and above-board, but also very boring. Jensen had been a legit businessman for thirty years and while it was challenging to pick and choose investment opportunities, and satisfying to watch them grow, to handle mergers and takeovers, none of it gave him the charge his illicit activities did. As Jensen made his way through the papers, he found himself almost wishing for a little excitement.
He had thought that after Lazaro died in April that it was going to be the start of something, but other than a few Marchesi associates roughing up Ackles soldiers who were out collecting nothing had happened. They seemed to have gone to ground and Jensen took that to mean they were planning a new strike, but four months had passed and no sign of any Marchesis. Maybe they realized without Lazaro’s connections they couldn’t hope to come at the Organization. He was a little disappointed. Maybe he was heading toward a mid-life crisis.
Jensen’s office line rang. He picked it up and greeted his assistant. “Yes, Hannah?”
“Mr. Ackles, Mr. Welling is asking to see you.”
“Sure. Send him in.”
“Jensen?” Tommy Blue poked his wavy salt and pepper head into Jensen’s office.
He smiled at his friend. Tommy Blue and Mad Mike were still together, still going strong. The couple had even ran away to Vegas to make it legal six years ago. Jensen was happy for them. They made a good match, Tommy the more sedate balance to Mike’s…well, madness. “Hey ya, Tommy. What’s up?”
Tommy comes fully into the room, gently closing the door behind him. He was always the most serious of his IC and Jensen knows that this isn’t a happy catch-up visit to break the monotony. While Tommy is COO of Ackles Enterprises, Jensen knows this is Organization business. He is immediately intrigued. Maybe the Marchesis were making moves at last. “I brought some folks to see you, Boss.”
Jensen’s brows draw together. “Oh?” He sits up a little straighter, and steeples his fingers.
“Some business owners in our territory. They, well, they should probably talk to you themselves.”
“Yeah, sure. Show ‘em in.” Jensen stands and comes from behind his massive walnut desk.
Tommy opens the door, and four people, three men and one woman come in.
“Tommy said you have something to tell me?” Jensen says flashing his PR smile and doing his best to project a friendly air. He didn’t think it worked. How could Jared, who was much bigger, so effortlessly put people at ease? Jensen guessed it had something to do with his dewy eyes and dimples.
The woman cleared her throat. She was curvy, blonde, with laughing blue eyes that darted nervously around the room. “Mr. Ackles, sir. I own a women’s only gym on Ballard Avenue and for the past week some clients have noticed men loitering around outside. They don’t do anything, they just stand and watch. But today when I went in to open up,” her eyes misted. “The equipment was vandalized and there were…messages written on the walls.”
Jensen clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might need to make a dental appointment. Fucking Marchesis. He absolutely knew it. They were making their first moves on the chess board.
“Ms…?”
“Buckmaster.”
“Ms. Buckmaster, I am so very sorry that happened to you. But, I can assure you everything will be taken care of. Please, inform Tommy of any financial recompense you may need. Okay?”
He turns his attention to the three men who came in with her. “And you gentlemen?”
“I’m Lewis Claymore, sir. I have a sandwich shop and deli business Wickford Street. My window glass was busted out and store vandalized.”
“Sir, I have a plumbing business. Nothing has happened yet, but a couple of burly guys have been hanging around. When the Claymore Deli was vandalized, one of the dudes came in and intimated that he could protect my business from similar damage, for a price.”
Jensen exhaled and clenched his jaw again. Vandalism, intimidation, and extortion. Not on his fucking watch, not in his fucking territory.
“Mr. Ackles, sir. I’m not sure you would remember, but you arranged a loan so I was able to start my business; your husband comes in to chat sometimes,” the third man was slight and pretty with box-dyed black hair with bright pink streaks mixed in. He had a hint of lipstick and eye shadow on to accentuate his full mouth and pretty blue eyes. If Jensen was a jealous type he’d be a little less friendly to the cute twink addressing him. “I do a steady business in dressmaking and tailoring at my shop, You Sew and Sew.”
Jensen smiled at the cute pun. “I think I remember. Jared talks about your shop; says you really know what you’re doing.” Jared had said nothing of the kind, but if it helped put the young man more at ease it was okay.
The twink blushed. “I try, but like Mr. Claymore said. Some goons have been hanging around and it affects my business. People are afraid to come in.”
Jensen scowled. “Have you been approached about “protection” yet?”
“No, sir.”
“I guarantee you probably will be.” He turned to the victimized people as a whole. “It will not stand, you get me? I will see to it you are recompensed for any damage and those responsible will be held accountable.” Wickford and Ballard were all on the west side, which was why they contacted Tommy Blue. The west side was his territory to oversee. How soon until Lazy Jace, Stevie Guitar, or Kane come to him with similar intimidation tactics for those in their territory? Jensen would try to head the fucking Marchesi goons off at the pass.
“Just contact Mr. Welling. He and I will coordinate everything. I really appreciate you coming to me with this. It will not happen again.” He fixed each person with his most meaningful intimidating stare. When he said something he goddamn well meant it. He hadn’t earned respect and loyalty over the years with empty words and promises. He backed his shit up.
He shook hands with each person and they warmly thanked him, then they were gone, but Tommy Blue remained.
“Fucking Marchesis,” Jensen spat.
Tommy nodded. “I’ll see that there are more of our people stationed throughout the west side. I’ll get ahold of Jase, Kane and Stevie, tell them to up the security in their territories as well.”
“I’m gonna contact some of our people in law enforcement. They won’t have Lazaro’s protection. This stops now, Tommy. Your guys see the same people loitering around places of business you haul them in and take them to The Ranch. You hear me?”
Tommy’s spine stiffened and his deep blue eyes were hard and intense. “Loud and clear, sir.”
Jensen dismissed him with a nod.
Well, Jensen had wanted some excitement. Now, he had gotten it.
Something had happened. That was the only reason why Jared would interrupt a board meeting. Jared did have a position at Ackles Enterprises in their Alternative Energy division, but that was mostly on paper, though Jared was smart and always had a keen mind for new (legitimate) business ventures or investment opportunities. Jensen’s slightly bashful PR-perfect mask slipped for a second as his mind whirled with what could be so bad Jared was coming here himself to deliver news. Was Colin okay? Emma? The kids? Kane? His other close friends. Jensen kept his phone off, as he always did when meeting with board members, wanting to give his full attention to the matters at hand. Jared, Colin, and the other IC members could act in his stead for anything Organization related. But here Jared was, face unreadable, as he silently closed the door, clasped his hands in front of him—looking every bit the Enforcer he was—and waited.
“A moment, please, ladies and gentlemen,” Jensen says rising and striding over to the door. He keeps his back to the board members, no doubt curious about the goings-on, as he inquires, “What’s happened?”
Jared dips his head and keeps his voice low, lips barely moving. “AJ and Travis are dead.”
Jensen closed his eyes. Shit. His people knew exactly what they were getting involved in when they joined the Organization, but that didn’t mean it ever got easier when someone died. He had known AJ and Travis for years, had assigned them to the pawn shop and chop shop after ordering the deaths of Ritchie the Chin, Mark Pellegrino and Freddy Lehne. They ran their shops under the radar and ran them well; righteous cops never came sniffing around. Most importantly, they were loyal to Jensen and loyalty was everything to him. Jensen fucking cared about his people no matter where they were on the totem. He would set their families up for the rest of their lives. The money could never compensate his family for their loss but it could make their lives easier.
“How?”
“Marchesis firebombed their shops.”
The shit had started pretty tame and was starting to escalate. After the business owners in Tommy Blue’s territory had come to Jensen with their troubles, Jensen had launched a counterattack. Lazaro Marchesi had told Jensen he would offer no protection and he meant it. Jensen had used his own in the Dallas PD and FBI to hit the Marchesi’s hard. He had their whorehouses raided, arranged prostitution stings, drug raids, and raids on gambling dens. They were in legal hot water and would continue to be for a very long time, but that wasn’t stopping them. Now, AJ and Travis were dead and their blood was on Jensen’s hands.
“Fuck,” Jensen said under his breath.
The board members were shifting in their chair, trying to listen in, but not be obvious about it.
“Anyone else hurt?”
“A few pedestrians, shops were empty at the time. Tommy Blue is going to see to them about any medical bills or anything they need. None of our people but Trav and AJ. This requires an answer, Jense. Intimidation and extortion of people in our territory was one thing. This? This was an act of war.”
Jensen gazed up into Jared’s face, saw longing and hunger in his eyes, but not for sex; no, Jared was hungry for blood, destruction, and death. Jensen knows Jared is right. If he had let Jared have free reign when the Marchesis first came around Ackles controlled territory this may never have happened. For the first time in a very long time Jensen wants his father, wishes he were here to give some guidance.
“Jare, you’re off the leash, understand? Whatever it takes. This will not happen again.”
Jared nods, eyes grave but still alight with bloodlust. He turns and exits the boardroom.
Jensen turns back to the other board members. He flashes them his most winning PR smile. “So sorry for the interruption.”
Jensen arrives at the Ackles Compound mansion around eight. He had a late night at the office, dealing with the finer points of the new division Ackles Enterprises was launching. The house is eerily quiet. The main house’s permanent residents—Kane, Stevie Guitar, Lazy Jase, and Jared—were all out tending to Organization business. The house feels unusually lonely and cavernous without them. Not even Jared was around much these days. He was away from the Ackles compound five out of seven days. Lately, he, Colin, and Kane had their heads together, no doubt planning some retaliation for the firebombing of AJ’s Pawn & Loan and Wester’s Junk & Salvage.
Part of Jensen was eager to see what they were coming up with. Whatever it was, had nothing to do with the activities the press was reporting on: the murders of Marchesi Caporegimes. So far Jared had taken out four of the Marchesis Capos. The bodies had been found disfigured and mutilated. Those were the only bodies that had turned up; Jensen was aware that several other soldiers and associates had also been quietly dealt with, if not by Jared directly, then under his, or possibly Colin’s, orders.
The press was sensationalizing the murders of the Capos, saying Dallas had a vigilante superhero out there cleaning up the streets. The cops were another matter, and Jensen used his influence to nudge investigators away from any of his guys.
The click of his footsteps echoes off the marble foyer. He wanders through the dining room to the kitchen. There are good smells to greet him from the oven and pots simmering on the Viking stove. There is a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a pie cooling on the counter.
“Good evening, Mr. Ackles,” Amy says coming in from the pantry with a bag of coffee beans to grind for tomorrows coffee. “Is the other Mr. Ackles home? Would you like dinner to be served?”
“Not yet, Ms. Gumenick. I am sorry for our tardiness. Please keep the meal warm as long as you can, but I don’t expect anyone else home for a while yet. Bring some coffee to me in the living room, please.”
“Of course, Mr. Ackles.”
Jensen gives her a smile and turns to leave.
He is on his second cup of coffee when the front door opens and he hears chatter from Jared and what sounds like Colin and Kane.
“You’re a sick fuck, Jared,” Kane says but there is laughter in his voice.
“No, Jay has just seen The Godfather way too many fucking times.”
“Blood all over me and under my damn fingernails,” Kane gripes.
“Peroxide,” Colin and Jared say at the same time.
Jensen sighs, pushing to his feet. What the hell have they done? “Someone care to tell me what’s going on,” Jensen calls.
The three men saunter into the living room. They obviously made an effort to clean up but there is still a lot of blood on each of them, and a whiff of smoke. Jensen starts running through a list of people he may need to contact or buy off to keep his husband, son, and best friend out of trouble.
“Sent a little present to Vincenzo Marchesi,” Kane says smirking.
Jensen arches a brow. “Care to elaborate?” Jensen says deadpan.
“Vinny Marchesi is heavy into horse racing and breeding,” Colin says. “He keeps a horse ranch for breeding thoroughbred prize-winning race horses. We burnt the stables to the ground and slaughtered all the valuable horses. And because Jay is a fucking Godfather fanboy,” he cuts his eyes to Jared. “He and Kane delivered the decapitated carcass of Vinny’s personal racehorse to his front lawn.”
Jared is grinning that cold crazy grin, and goddamn if Jensen’s doesn’t feel a pulse of arousal. “Don’t worry, Jense, we used nondescript cars and stolen plates.”
“In case they aren’t,” Colin cuts across. “I’ve already got them airtight alibis.”
“Vincenzo Marchesi isn’t likely to go to the cops about any of this. This is personal Family business and no one in law enforcement or the legal community want to touch them now. But make no mistake, they will retaliate for this.”
“We’ll be ready, Boss,” Kane says.
When nine rolls around, the music ceases—Jensen and Jared had long since stopped dancing, choosing instead to partake of the excellent food that was on offer—and the lights dim. Jensen, with Jared at his side, is ushered into the middle of the room for the cake presentation. His friends and family all shove and slap him on the back, and offer teasing greetings.
“Who’s old now?” Doc Morgan says with a shit eating grin and a hearty slap to the back. “Let me know if you need an ED ‘script!”
That gets a loud shout of laughter from Mad Mike, Tommy Blue, and Lazy Jace. Some of the younger, newer IC members are unsure if they should laugh at the outgoing Boss.
“Save it for yourself,” Jared shoots back. “Old man.”
“Always talking about your sex lives, I fucking swear,” Colin grouses but is smiling wide and happy. For the moment the mask of Stone-Cold Colin, the Organization’s new Boss, is gone and Colin is just Jensen and Jared’s son.
“I think it’s sweet,” Kathryn Newton said smiling a sappy dreamy smile at them. She was one of Colin’s friends from Stanford. She had financed her education moonlighting as a cat burglar. Jensen had put her to work in the fencing arm of his Organization.
“You’re precious, Kitty Kat,” Jared said giving a wink to the young woman.
Once Jensen is center stage, Megalyn—daughter of Loretta Devine—wheels out a large round two-tier cake topped with sparklers shooting pretty multi-colored sparks into the air. The guests sing a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. As the song ends, the lights come back up, and Jensen blows out the scuttering fireworks.
Jensen feels a bit uncomfortable with so many eyes on him, but Jared is there right at his side, strong and reassuring presence, as he always has been. He also feels very loved, with his family and close friends surrounding him and also respected by both his associates here, all gathered to show respect and give him (and Jared) a happy send off. He gazes around at the smiling singing faces and thinks about those who are missing.
Jensen sat heavily in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. This shit had been going on for eight months now, and he was sick of it. He had no doubt his Organization would come out on top, but the getting there was going to be tough. His guys were tough; tough and loyal. The Marchesis were like cockroaches. Whenever Jensen felt sure that they were done they fucking came back with a vengeance.
Marco, Vincenzo, Angelo and Angie Marchesi had taken heavy losses recently with Tommy, Kane, Stevie and Jase coordinating attacks in Marchesi territory. Jared and Colin had been working overtime at The Ranch doing interrogations. The Marchesi siblings had overinflated egos from not directly suffering any consequences for their repeated attacks. That was soon going to change. Jensen had authorized Jared and Colin to go after Angie Marchesi, but doing so would require careful planning. Jensen had faith in his husband and son’s cunning, as well as their brutality. Angie Marchesi was beautiful with voluminous jet black hair that rippled down her elegant back, well-rounded curves, long well-shaped legs, beautiful caramel brown eyes, and full lips. She was the baby of the Family and the darling of her older brothers. Let’s see those bastards keep this shit up with their baby sister in Cujo and Stone-Cold Colin’s clutches.
He titled his head back and closed his eyes, hoping for a few moments rest. His office door opened, light from the hall splashed across the Turkish rug then was gone as the door was closed. He knew it wasn’t Jared by the tread of footsteps. Jared moved like a cat, and only made sound when he wanted to. Given the environment he found himself in he should be more alarmed at someone just walking into his office, but this was his private home and felt safe here. Nonetheless, Jensen reached into his jacket cocked the hammer and pulled out his .45.
He pulled it out as a man dropped into the chair across from his. “Fuck. Kane. You trying to get blown away? You know this has a hair trigger.” Jensen uncocked his gun, put the safety on, and replaced it in his holster.
Kane shrugged and grinned at him. “Had you really thought you were in danger you woulda shot first and asked questions later.”
Jensen sighs. “Maybe. I’m getting old.”
Kane knocked the toe of a boot against Jensen’s foot. “If you’re old what does that make me?”
Jensen gives a weak smile. Kane was two years older than Jensen. He gazed at his friend, looking older and more weathered but it suited him much more than the slick and polished lifestyle Jensen preferred. He could see Kane on a ranch or rodeo circuit in another life. He thought about that a lot recently; what his guys would be doing in another life, particularly after AJ and Travis’ deaths.
Kane was a struggling junior at UTD, mostly drifting and going through the motions, when Jensen met him at a clandestine high-stakes poker game. Kane had lost big and was sure Jensen was going to put a hurt on him, but Jensen had a good feeling about Kane, covered his debt, and brought him into the Organization. He had never regretted that decision. Until Jared came along, Kane was the roughest and toughest son of a bitch in his Organization, not afraid to get his hands dirty, but lacked Jared’s taste for true violence.
“Where’s your man?”
“At the Ranch with Colin, I think. Doubt he’ll be home tonight.”
“Can you even handle one night without him?” Kane’s eyes danced with a teasing light.
“Fuck off,” Jensen retorted. He and Jared had spent many nights apart over the last months. To be honest he was as sick of that as he was of everything else.
“Fucking pathetic,” Kane raked a hand through his grey-streaked brown hair. “Got anything to drink?”
Jensen nodded and pushed up to his feet. He had a little bar set up and Kane knew it, but Kane wasn’t the type of guy to help himself to Jensen’s expensive liquor. Jensen poured himself a couple of fingers of Glenfiddich—Jared’s brand but Jensen was worried and missing him—and good ol’ Jack Daniels for Kane.
“Here, you fuckin’ redneck.” Jensen handed him a heavy crystal tumbler and sat back down.
Kane slammed the whiskey back and grinned. “Don’t gotta be fifty years old and cost thousands to be good, you fuckin’ snob.”
Jensen grinned and sipped Jared’s scotch. He hoped his husband would get some answers and be home soon. The two friends lapsed into silence. Kane motioned to the bar with his empty glass. Jensen gave an upward nod for his friend to refill his glass. Jensen watched Kane saunter over to the bar with a rangy rolling gait that made Jensen think of a gunslinger and wondered if his old friend had someone in his life he was missing and worrying about. Kane made no secret of his numerous trysts, but in the last year or two he had stopped bragging about all his conquests.
Now that he thought about it, Stevie Guitar had ceased his tomcatting around that time as well. Kane and Stevie were always close, had been friends before Jensen met Kane. Maybe Kane and Stevie Guitar? Nah. Kane had been a pussy hound as long as Jensen had known him, but still…. Was it really out of the realm of possibility for Kane and Stevie to have made the leap from friendship to something a little deeper? Jensen disliked it when people discussed his private life and so didn’t pry into the private lives of his friends. And Jensen wasn’t so closed minded to think that Kane and Stevie Guitar couldn’t make the leap from friends to lovers. If they had Jensen was happy for them. Or if Kane had someone else in his life that made him cease chasing women he was still happy for him. Kane was a good guy, tough, loyal, a bit of a wisecracking asshole, but in a charming way and deserved some measure of happiness.
“Weird, isn’t it?” Kane said quietly, musingly, breaking their comfortable silence.
“Hmm?” Jensen responded.
“These kids, getting it done, down and dirty.” Colin’s crew were not exactly “kids” but Jensen understood where Kane was coming from. Shit. It seemed not that long ago that he was Colin’s age, learning the ropes and gradually taking over for his father. Life was a wheel and everything came around.
“We were kids once, too, old man,”
“Yeah. When did that happen? Like, sometimes I’ll be shaving and not recognize the face staring back at me. Fuck, Jensen. I saw a fuckin’ grey hair in my short and curlies! What the fuck is happening?” Kane grumped.
Jensen felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “I do not need to know your pubes are going grey, Kane.”
“Hey, just because you are a secretive bastard doesn’t mean the rest of us are. I’m a caring and sharing type of guy.”
Jensen arched a brow. “I am not “secretive”. I am private. There is a difference, you ass.”
“Yeah, yeah. Little Boss Chev is the same way.” His blue eyes narrow and he gazes speculatively at Jensen. “You sure he’s not your blood son?”
Jensen rolls his eyes. “Gold Star Gay, Kane. I’ve never even kissed a woman let alone anything else.” He shuddered at the thought.
Kane waved a hand. “Little Jay’s then. They both got that eye thing. If you don’t look too deep they seem nice and innocent. Doe eyes.”
Jensen smiled, musing. It was true. Colin and Jared were physically a lot alike; both tall and lean, similar angular faces and soulful eyes. Colin was like Jensen in a lot of ways as well: clinical, thoughtful, cunning, and calculating. But also ruthless and brutal, like Jared could be. Jensen chuckled. He could be pretty ruthless himself. He never shied away from doing what needed to be done. Sometimes, if Jensen thought about it, he wondered whether Colin was really more Jared’s son than his. It further cemented what Jensen already knew, Colin would be a great Boss when the time came.
“I want you and your guys to be careful and vigilant when you go collecting,” Jensen said.
“Got it, Boss.”
“I mean it, Kane. Jared and Colin are planning something major. I don’t know how much you know, but the Marchesis will retaliate—when or where is up in the air. We’ve buried Trav and AJ. I don’t want to bury you.”
Kane sobered. He nodded, eyes grave. “Me and my guys know what we’re doing, Jensen. We’ll be alright.”
But they weren’t.
The Marchesis planted a shit load of C-4 in Kane’s car and it exploded. Jensen ended up burying what was left of not one, but two, of his oldest, dearest friends: Christian “Kane” Short and Steven “Stevie Guitar” Carlson.
“Speech!” Jared’s booming voice brings Jensen back to the present. The other party guests applaud and add their own voices to Jared’s.
“Speech! Speech!”
Jensen gives a bashful smile and holds up a hand. The room quiets.
“Thank you,” Jensen begins. “Thank you for that. I, uh, I’m glad to be here amongst my friends and family celebrating my birthday. It’s a little surreal to tell the truth.” Jensen pauses. He had written a speech, but going over the words in his head now, it all feels trite and cheap.
He glances over at Jared, wanting to draw some fresh words and inspiration, but his brows are drawn together in a concerned frown as he stares at Jensen’s chest. Jensen dips his head, following Jared’s gaze, and sees a bright red dot in the center of his chest. Jensen can hear people around him exclaiming, and starting to scatter. Jensen is frozen. How can he be fucking frozen when the dot of a laser scope is aimed right at his heart? He should be moving, but all he can do is stare dumbly down at the spot.
It feels like slow motion and a blink. Jared is shoving Jensen away and pivoting, arms spreading wide as a rifle shot rings out. Party guests scream and scatter. Tommy Blue, Mad Mike, Gatling Gun Garret, and Lazy Jase close a circle around Jensen and Jared, and draw their weapons. A flower of blood blooms on the right side of Jared’s chest, and he goes down
“The Pavilion!” Emma shouts. “He’s running toward the Pavilion!”
“Go! Go! Go! You motherfuckers let him get away and I’ll kill you myself!” Colin barks out.
Screams. Gunshots.
Jensen’s hearing seems to cease. He falls to his knees, cradling Jared’s head in his lap. He registers Doc Morgan kneeling beside him, ripping Jared’s waistcoat and shirt open. There is a hole in Jared’s chest—.38 caliber the clinical part of Jensen’s mind guesses, trickling blood. Jared gasps, struggling to breathe. Doc Morgan folds up the remnants of Jared’s shirt and presses it hard against Jared’s wound. Jared makes a soundless gasp. He hears Doc Morgan saying something, relaying information, and he guesses someone has called an ambulance.
Jared gazes up at Jensen, worry radiating from his eyes. His mouth moves, but no words come out. Jensen doesn’t need them to. He knows what Jared is saying, asking. “Are you okay?”
Through his despair and terror Jensen nods, reassuring Jared as he lays dying in his arms. “I’m fine, Jared.” He has to reassure Jared that he is okay, because if Jared knows Jensen is okay then Jared will be okay. He has to be. That’s how it works!
Color leeches from Jared’s face and lips; his lovely golden tan fades to a sickly grey while his lips go from pretty pink, to white and oh god, blue. His eyes blink slowly as he gazes at Jensen.
“Don’t you fucking leave me, Jared,” Jensen tries for his Bog Boss Man voice but only gets a wheezing squeak past his lips. “Jared!”
Jared’s mouth opens to try and speak. Oh, God a waterfall of blood spills from his lips, dribbles down his chin, and throat. Jensen can read lips enough to know what Jared is saying. “I love you. Love you. Love you.”
Jensen’s vision blurs as scalding tears race down his cheeks. He pets Jared’s head. “I love you, too, Jared. You can’t leave me. You hear me!” Jared’s hazel eyes flutter and close even as his bloody mouth is still trying to tell Jensen he loves him and it’s okay. “You can’t leave me. You promised!”
Jared’s body goes limp and Jensen’s world goes dark.
The phone was ringing. Jensen came awake. He never slept very well without Jared beside him. Even years after his ordeal with Collins and the pit, Jensen still had nightmares—though they were far fewer now—and still disliked the dark. His heart jumped into his throat and settled there, beating like a battle drum. His mouth went dry and his throat seemed to swell. He loathed calls to his personal line in the middle of the night, perpetually thinking it was an IC member telling him something horrific had happened or was happening to Jared, or Colin. Not many people had Jensen’s direct line so it had to be someone he knew. Panting shakily, struggling with his mounting fear, he glanced at the display. His brows came together. It wasn’t anyone in his contacts calling. The number didn’t have a Dallas area code. His mind whirled. He didn’t think it was a California area code, so it wasn’t one of Colin’s friends. He swiped to answer.
“This is Jensen.” Cold swept over him as he heard a liquid sob come over the line. The caller sounded female.
“Jensen, is Jared there?”
His brows knitted in a frown. Definitely a woman, but not anyone he recognized. Why the hell was a crying woman calling for Jared? “No, not at the moment. Can I help?” Jensen asked flummoxed, but the anxiety started to ebb away a bit.
“I….It’s Tara.”
It clicks for Jensen then. The sobbing woman was Tara VanFlower, the long-time girlfriend of Jared’s oldest friend and former member of Jensen’s Inner Circle, Petrus Ratajczyk. The fact that she is crying makes dread close over Jensen like a thunderhead over the sun. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, Jensen.” Another sob and a watery sniffle. “We lost Peter last night.”
Jensen’s heart sinks. They hadn’t seen the big man since their wedding three years ago. He and Jared kept making plans to go out there and visit him but between one thing and another they never had. Now it was too late. Jensen had no doubt they would finally make it out to New York, but to attend a goddamn funeral. Shit.
“Tara, I am so very sorry. And I know this will break Jared’s heart.” He was not looking forward to telling his husband the man who had been both father-figure and brother was dead. Knowing Jared he would either stew about it or lash out in anger. Jensen would do everything he could to comfort Jared. “Any idea of the cause?”
“The doc is pretty sure it was an aortic aneurysm. Peter…” her voice breaks and hitches. Jensen feels his eyes sting. No more letters or calls from the Big Man to discuss whatever book they were reading or deep discussions about philosophy and theology. They had been reading The Karamazov Brothers, and Jensen had been looking forward to Pete’s bi-weekly call to discuss the last few chapters.
“Peter hated doctors. He…he had been complaining of heart…heart palpitations the last couple of days. I….” she breaks off into sobs then.
“I’m sure you tried. Pete could be stubborn. What can Jared and I do? Are arraignments taken care of?”
Tara was still sobbing, deep soul-rending sobs, the sound of someone whose soul-mate had been torn from them. Oh God. Jensen would be a fucking wreck if anything happened to Jared. He aches for Tara in that moment. Just imagining something happening to Jared has his heart pounding with anxiety.
“Whatever you want, whatever you and his sisters need, Jared and I will take care of it, understand? Send any and all bills to me or Jared. Y’all will have enough to deal with without worry about financial strain. Let me know when the funeral is. Jared and I want to be there.”
More sobs but Tara sounded as if she was struggling to regain some control over herself. “Oh, Jensen. Peter always told me you were good, despite what people say about you.”
Jensen notices she doesn’t mention Jared being good. Jensen isn’t so blinded by his love for Jared that he thinks Jared is “good” nor does Jensen confuse Jared’s many good qualities for goodness itself. Jared’s edge has always been what drew Jensen to him. “My notoriety has been greatly exaggerated,” Jensen says drolly.
“Peter never much talked about what he did down there,” she sniffs.
“He did security.” It’s not exactly a lie but not the entire truth either. If Pete didn’t want details of his life in organized crime to follow him back to Brooklyn Jensen would respect that. Pete was really too gentle for this life. “He was a big guy, people didn’t want to cross him, but he was so sweet, and polite, and gentle.”
A watery laugh. “Yeah, he was. I’m glad other people could see that. I’m gonna hang up now, Jensen. Me and Peter’s sisters have things to arrange.”
“All bills to me or Jared. Anything. I’ll see any medical bills are taken care of, too. You just grieve for him, remember him. Jare and I will take care of practical things. Shit. Can you give me the name of the hospital he’s at or have they released him to a mortuary yet? If you and his sisters don’t mind, Jared and I can take care of the funeral arrangements for you.”
“Oh, Jensen,” Tara sighs and begins to sob again.
“It’ll be okay again, I promise.” Jensen knows he wouldn’t survive if Jared died. He’d end his life to join him. Jared would do the same.
“He’s at the University Hospital in Brooklyn. He belonged to St. Agnes’ Church, also here in Brooklyn.”
“I know how important Pete’s faith was to him. We’ll honor that. Did he want to be cremated or have any special directives that you know of?”
She sniffs. “No, you know Pete. Nothing fancy or too much trouble.”
Jensen nods. “Yeah, that was Pete.”
“Thank you for everything, Jensen.”
“I’m happy to help however I can. I need to tell Jared now.”
Jared slipped into their bedroom near two o’clock. He looked tired but in a decent mood. Jensen hated that he was going to ruin it.
“Hey, Jense,” Jared swooped down and kissed him, quick and deep. When Jared pulled back his brows came together. “What’s wrong?”
“Jared, honey,” Jensen reached out and took one of Jared’s big hands in his.
Tension poured into Jared like a liquid. His shoulders stiffened, his back straightened, his eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
“Tara called me not too long before you got home. Pete’s gone, Jared.” Jensen gripped Jared’s hand hard enough to leave a bruise.
The expression on Jared’s face did not change. “What?”
“He’s gone, Jared. He died earlier today. Aortic aneurysm is what Tara told me.”
Jensen could see the muscle ticking in Jared’s jaw as he clenched and unclenched it. His mouth was a flat hard line. He ripped his hand from Jensen’s supporting grip. “Bullshit!” Jared turned his back and strode towards the walk-in closet. Jensen followed on his heels. Jared was literally trying to run from whatever pain and realization is beginning to sink in.
“Jared, I’m sorry, but it’s true. Pete’s gone.”
Jared pivoted, fast as a lightning stroke. Jensen stumbled back, arms flailing as he lost his balance. Despite his best efforts to remain upright, he landed flat on his ass. His ear was ringing and white spots popped before his eyes. And his jaw is aching like a bitch. It takes a moment to realize that Jared punched him. Never before in the twenty-three years they have been together has Jared ever hit him. He should be more shocked than he is but he had known Jared’s first reaction would be anger and to strike out, to cause pain for the pain he was feeling.
“Shut up! Stop saying that!” Jared shouts as he towers above Jensen. But the truth has sunk in for Jared. He knows Jensen would never lie to him and never pull this kind of joke. “Why are you lying to me?” Jared’s face crumpled as the truth set in. “Why are you doing this to me!”
Jensen pushed back to his feet, staggering a bit. “Jared, I’m sorry, honey. I know how much he meant to you, how much you loved him, but he’s gone.”
Jared’s face seemed to fold in on itself, brows pulling in, mouth trembling and pulling down, eyes filling with tears. The agonized wail he let loose as the realization sunk in that his oldest friend was dead broke Jensen’s heart. The strength seems to run out of him. Jensen darts forward catching Jared in his arms. Together they sink to the floor, the weight of their grief drawing them down.
“I’m sorry, Jared. I’m so sorry,” Jensen whispers in his ear and runs his fingers through Jared’s hair in a comforting caress.
“Petey! Petey! Petey!” Jared cried as he desperately clutched Jensen, buried his wet face in the crook of Jensen’s neck. His body shook with the force of his sobs. He had never seen Jared as broken and vulnerable as he was now, not even when Jared had confided the details of his time with Fuller. Jensen tightened his arms around his husband, trying his best to hold him together.
Jensen’s own grief at losing Pete, his friend and book-buddy, washed over him. He closed his eyes and let his own tears fall, but he knew his grief was nothing compared to Jared’s, who had been taken under Pete’s wing as a child of ten, protected and cared for, fed and loved. A friend, a brother, a found family after his own had been taken from him.
Jensen held Jared as he cried out his grief and pain, knowing the only thing he could do was to do exactly as he was and be there.
Jensen sat in the second pew, behind Tara and Pete’s surviving sisters and watched as Jared stepped up to the podium to eulogize his old friend. The casket Jared had selected was cedar, upholstered in plain white cotton; it was heavy and simple, like the man inside it. The only floral arrangement was a vase of white carnations. Tara and Pete’s sisters had stated that Pete would rather have donations to his favorite charities instead of a slew of useless—but lovely—flowers. Jensen and Jared had given fifteen thousand dollars apiece to each of Pete’s special causes—mental health, animal rescue, and literacy programs.
The casket was open and Pete looked to be only peacefully sleeping. The only extravagance was the Armani suit that Jared had quickly tailored to Pete’s impressive measurements. Jared had also added a hunter green waistcoat, matching tie and handkerchief; green being Peter’s favorite color, reflecting his love for nature. Jensen had tried to help Jared with the arrangements, but he had declined, saying it was something he had to do for Pete by himself. Jensen let him be.
The service had started with the Parish priest saying wonderful things about Pete, how he was always involved in the community and volunteered at the church. It was a completely different side to the big man. Then some of Pete’s old friends from the neighborhood—Johnny Kelly, Sal Abruscato, Josh Silver, and Kenny Hickey—all told humorous anecdotes about their friend. Then, it was Jared’s turn.
“I…uh,” Jared fiddled with the mic. “I’m not a religious man. I can’t even say I’m a good man, but Petey was.” Jared’s voice quivered and he dropped his head. He took several moments to collect himself before continuing. “I’m not sure I understood his goodness until I was older. Petey had a darkness in him, but I think that made the light of his goodness shine all the brighter. He had a depth and wisdom I wanted to attain but never could. He was my friend, my brother. For a long time he was everything to me, always there for me. He knew when I met my husband that I didn’t need him anymore and it was time to start his own life, find something, have something, for himself. He did.” Jared bowed his head again and exhaled forcefully.
Jensen wanted to go to him, lay a hand on his back, and try to give him some strength, but knew, like taking care of Pete’s final rites, Jared had to get through this on his own. Tara was weeping quietly in the front row, face buried in a handful of tissues. Jensen wanted to go to her as well, but she was enfolded and surrounded by Pete’s sisters. He can only imagine the pain she’s in right now and hopes it never visits him, but knowing someday it will. It was inevitable in their way of life. Though not Catholic, Jensen crossed himself—as he had often seen Pete do—and said a brief prayer for the safety of his family and friends.
Jared raised his head, and cleared his throat. His eyes shimmered with tears but his voice was strong and clear. “I wish he’d had more time with her. I wish he’d had more time with all of us. I love you, Petey. Rest well.”
Jared left the podium, and approached the open casket with his friend resting inside it. He laid a hand on the closed bottom of the casket, bowed his head for a few moments, then returned to his pew beside Jensen. Jensen enfolded him in his arms. Jared buried his face in his neck, and his arms came around Jensen tight, so tight, and together they grieved for their lost friend.
