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Title: Ohne Dich
Author: rose-the-hat
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: R
Words: 301K-ish
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 dozes and dreams, not for the first time, of blood and screams. He jerks awake with a light tapping on the door.
“Dad?”
Jensen sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Yes, Colin.”
“Can I come in? Talk to you and Jay?”
“Yeah.”
Colin sits beside Jensen. “Hey, Jay. Aren’t you tired of Dad being here all the time? Nevermind. Everyone knows the answer to that.” Colin smiles but it’s a wan hollow version of his usual smile.
Jensen knows Colin is trying to make amends after his last visit and loves him for it. But there is an awkwardness and stiffness in Colin’s mannerisms.
“Ems gave me these to bring.” He extracts another saran wrapped stack of Jared’s favorite cookies. Jensen ate the last ones. “And coffee.” He sets the items on the over-the-bed table. “Jay, don’t eat like that all the time. You’re in your fifties now, you’ll get fat.”
Jensen smiles despite himself. He’s not so out of it he doesn’t understand what scheme Colin is running. He’s trying to play up to Jensen, probably gearing up to ask him to leave again. If he fucking does Jensen will haul off and punch the little shit.
“You okay, Kid?” Jensen asks as Colin sits and lets out a tired sigh.
“No, I’m not okay, Dad. I’m fucking worried about you.”
Not this shit again. He is fed up with the worried or sympathetic looks from everyone who glances at him. “That is your father and you act like you don’t even care how hurt he is.”
Hurt flashes in Colin’s eyes before he rallies. “That is not true. He’s getting the best treatment. He’s going to be fine. It’s you that I’m worried about! You haven’t left this hospital, this room, in two, almost three days now. You look terrible. You haven’t changed your clothes. I can smell that you haven’t showered. You’re exhausted. You’re scared. You’re probably lonely. Have you even slept?”
“Who is the goddamned parent here?” Jensen barks. “You tend to your kids, of which I am not one. Get the hell out of here, Colin.”
Colin is not to be deterred. “You’re still stuck in that moment when Jared was shot. You can’t see anything but dark now, Dad, and that scares me.” Colin’s voice wavers and Jensen makes the mistake of looking over at the other man. Colin really does have his father’s eyes, fucking lethal when they are naked and pleading like this. Jensen turns his gaze back to his intubated husband on the bed. Jared’s the important one. When—if—Jared dies and Jensen does what he has to, Colin will be fine. He’ll have Emma, and the kids to lean on.
“Please come home with me. Just to shower and change. I’ll bring you right back.”
Jensen knows Colin is hoping that once he gets Jensen out of here, around Jaysen and little Meggie Jensen will melt and forget about Jared. That would never happen, much as he adores the little ones. “Get out of here, Colin.”
Colin sighs and stands. He places a hand on Jensen’s shoulder and gives a hard squeeze. “I know what you’re thinking about doing. Please don’t. Jared is not the only person who loves and needs you. Think about Jaysen and Meggie first.” Another squeeze to his shoulder and the click of heels on the tile as Colin leaves.
The front door bursts open. Jensen pushes to his feet and draws his gun. For a heart-stopping moment, he thinks the Marchesis have finally launched an invasion of the Ackles Compound. God knows they could be as their attacks have grown bolder since Jared and Colin returned Angie Marchesi back to the bosom of her loving Family, raped and disfigured. Everyone knew doing so would have serious repercussions, and were on their guard. Colin had secreted Emma and the kids away to a safe location, known only to him and out of Texas; the same was true for family members and loved ones of other Organization members.
Even though the Marchesis attacks were more brazen, they were also stupider and more desperate, which spoke of anger than careful planning and thoughtful execution. Case in point, a couple of weeks ago some Marchesi capos were seen infiltrating the Ackles Enterprises building, and attempting to plant explosive devices in the basement and Jensen’s office. Had they been careful in their planning they would have known that would never have worked. Aldis, Chad Lindberg, and Osric Chau had been in the building working late on a new line of software and caught the intruders. Lindberg had been killed; Osric and Aldis wounded before Aldis killed the two associates and secured the building.
The counter attacks the Organization executed were as cold and clinical as they have always been. Mad Mike had used his connections to disrupt their flow of drugs, undercutting and stealing their suppliers and customers. Matt Cohen and Jake Abel had disrupted their penny ante smuggling and counterfeiting rings. They couldn’t move any goods in or out of the state. Slowly their revenue streams were drying up. The Marchesis were still in legal hot water. Their manpower was significantly reduced. The Marchesis had money but Jensen had wealth. He could afford a long siege.
Jensen pulls the hammer back and pivots to face the invader. He aims his gun, finger pressing against the trigger, but immediately points his weapon at the ceiling when he realizes it’s Colin. The man’s face was flushed and his eyes were wet. Heart rate, which had been coldly calm even as he thought he was facing a Marchesi invasion, shoots up like a rocket.
“What?”
“Tahmoh is dead and Brock was almost killed.”
“What happened?”
“Marchesi affiliated goons walked up and shot Tahmoh! Only reason Brock wasn’t killed too was because Tahmoh pushed him away! I loved Brock!” Colin shouted, but as powerful and full of anger as his voice it was, there was also sorrow and grief beneath. “He was the first person I fell in love with and they fucking tried to kill him! Imagine if they had known our history. They probably would have targeted him sooner! This shit has to stop, Dad! How much longer before they target Emma?” His anguished eyes pinned Jensen’s. “Or Jay?”
An icy hand squeezes Jensen’s heart at the thought. He wants to rationalize that it could never happen. Anyone willing to go after Jared, with his reputation of an insane mix of ruthlessness and brutality, would be foolish in the extreme or suicidal. Jensen knows it could happen, knows with the way the Marchesis have been escalating things the possibility of Emma and the kids being targets, Jared being a target, is very real. He supposes he’s gotten too complacent with the shield of Jared’s reputation. He does not want Jared’s blood—or Emma and the kids’—on his hands. “What do you propose we do?”
“Kill them. All of them. I have a plan. They’re Catholics, right? Midnight Mass for Christmas is coming up. They’ll all be together, associates, soldiers, capos, and the Marchesis themselves, in one place. Let me take them all out in one shot.”
Jensen has been in this life since he was sixteen; killed for the first time when he was nineteen. Ordered the deaths of dozens, assisted in interrogations but something in him recoils at Colin’s idea. He’s not religious or even a particularly spiritual, but the idea of murdering in a holy building on a holy day tests his limits.
“Dad.” Colin’s voice is hard, a bit of a challenge in it. “You want me to take over soon. You’ve been grooming me for this position since I was seventeen. AJ is dead. Travis is dead. Kane’s dead. Stevie Guitar is dead. Chad Lindburg is dead. Now, Tahmoh. How many more lives is it gonna take, Dad, for you to stop fucking around?”
“Watch it!” Jensen warns, stung by the accusation. “You tread very carefully, Colin. You are my son, and I love you, but you watch yourself. You speak to me with respect and never forget you still answer to me.”
A year ago, hell, a few months ago, Colin would have cowed and backed down, but not now. He doesn’t bow his head or avert his gaze. “That’s why I’m asking for your permission to do this.” Colin took a step closer, shoulders and back straight. Unlike his father, when Colin’s bloodlust is aroused, his eyes grow even more arctic and his face scarily devoid of emotion.
“Next time it will be my family or Jay, and you fucking know it. Taking out the Marchesis is what needs to be done. This fucking push-pull tug of war is accomplishing nothing. Jay’s on board with my plan; he knows it needs to be done.” He takes another step closer to Jensen. Jensen takes a step back. “You know it needs to be done, too. So, find your fucking balls and let me do it.”
That is one trespass too much. Jensen pulls his fist back and slugs Colin right across his chiseled jaw. The other man’s head whips to the side on impact.
“What did I fucking say? You respect me, boy! Not because I’m your Dad, but because I’ve been running this business longer than you’ve been alive!”
Colin recovers almost instantly, wipes the blood from his mouth. “You won’t be if you keep sitting back while the Marchesis spill our blood.”
Jensen feels cold steal over him. Colin isn’t threatening him, merely pointing out the danger the Organization is in if Jensen doesn’t step up and make the Marchesis pay for their transgressions. Colin seems to soften, his posture relaxes and he sighs.
“Dad, you are losing your stomach for this business. Let me end this. Then you and Jared can retire to your island; like you want to, like you both deserve.”
It’s not easy to hear, but he knows it’s true. Colin is not being accusatory, he’s voicing thoughts Jensen’s been having as well. He had felt out of his depth since this shit started. Maybe he was too old school. The game the Marchesis were playing didn’t follow rules or patterns Jensen knew. Lazaro Marchesi would never have pulled the shit that his kids were. The old Don had operated the way Jensen did, the way Alan had.
“Yes.” Jensen says, and he knows it’s the last order he will ever give. When the Marchesis are gone, Colin will be the leader of the Organization. “Do it. End this.”
When the Holy Trinity Catholic Church explodes at 12:02 AM on Christmas, killing all the Marchesis Jensen allows himself to breathe a sigh of relief. The war is over, Colin is firmly at the helm and soon Jared and he will be off to retire in peace and tropical bliss.
The door to Jared’s room opens and someone takes the seat beside Jensen. He knows it’s not Colin. Colin doesn’t smell like leather, tobacco, and vaguely of motor oil.
“Hey, Jensen,” Doc Morgan rumbles in a deep voice. “They tell you what’s going on?”
Doc Morgan, though not employed by the hospital anymore still has some pull and Jensen allowed him as Jared and Jensen’s private physician, to be informed of Jared’s medical status.
“He’s got an infection,” Jensen says dully.
“Yes, and that is always a risk with gunshot wounds. They gave Tetanus prophylaxis as a precaution, but Jared has a bacterial infection, and that is why they are giving him those antibiotics. There is also a risk of sepsis. Jared doesn’t have that.”
Jensen can’t tell if there is a ‘yet’ implied in there or not. He thinks not. If Jared had that or was at risk of developing that Doc Morgan would say so. He’s never bullshitted Jensen before.
“I’m not trying to scare you more, Jensen. Shit is bad, but it could be worse. Jared is in serious condition but stable. When he was brought in he was critical, but I’m cautiously optimistic he’ll recover.”
Jensen scoffs.
“Who has the medical degree here, me or you?”
Doc Morgan has got Jensen there. JD is better at understanding and interpreting what Jared’s doctors say whereas all Jensen hears is “coded twice. Massive blood loss. Coded twice. Pericardial sac. Coded twice. Codedtwicecodedtwicecodedtwice.” Now with this fever and fucking infection Jensen can’t help but feel hopeless.
“Jared made it through surgery—”
Coded twice.
“And that was the big hurdle. There is a lot going for Jared. The bullet wasn’t a larger caliber, it wasn’t jacketed or hollow point so it couldn’t inflict worse damage on the thorax—the chest, rather. It missed his heart. Missed the major arteries and veins.”
Pericardial sac nicked
“There is good reason why I’m optimistic, Jensen. I’m not trying to blow smoke up your ass. Jared is not in a vegetative state or a coma, you understand that, right?”
Jensen hadn’t, but now that Doc Morgan has told him that he does feel infinitesimally better.
“He’s unconscious because of the heavy duty drugs they have him on. Soon, Dr. Connell will reduce the dose and Jared will regain consciousness.”
It seems almost too much to hope for that Jared will wake up and be normal.
Coded twice.
“He…will he…? Brain damage?” The words claw their way up Jensen’s throat and out his mouth.
“Brain damage happens when the brain is injured, Jensen. Jared’s brain wasn’t injured. He had no blow to the head, no stroke, no swelling or bleeding, anything like that.”
Coded twice
“If he does have some impairment it will be because his brain was deprived of oxygen for too long. I doubt that happened; nevertheless, when Jared wakes up his doctors will evaluate him for any damage, but I don’t think it’s cause for concern.”
“H—.” Jensen’s throat closes up. He coughs, forces himself to swallow his fear and push the words out that have been ringing a clarion in his brain. “He coded. Twice.”
JD nods. “I am aware. That was related to his blood loss. They had to get it under control before they could do anything else. He coded again when they were trying to get him hooked up to a Cardiopulmonary bypass machine. They got him back quickly however, and were able to extract the bullet and repair the damage to his lung and pericardial sac.
“I know you’re scared, Jensen; that’s why Colin got in touch with me. He wants you to understand it’s not really as dark as you’ve been thinking. That guy is worried sick about you, more so than Jared. Worried what this is doing to your mental state. God knows you and Jared are the most codependent couple I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m not leaving him. He never once left me, never gave up on me. When I was down in a pit for ten days he pushed himself to his breaking point and passed it for me. I’ll do the same for him. Even if all I can do for him is sit here.” He sinks deeper into the chair. He’s not leaving. Not until Jared wakes up and tells him it’s okay for him to go.
“Let me show you something.” JD stands at the foot of Jared’s bed. He untucks the sheet and blanket exposing one of Jared’s big feet. JD pulls out his key ring, selects a key and scratches it along the bottom of Jared’s foot. Jared’s foot jerks.
Jensen feels a happy thrill run through him. He gasps and feels his eyes sting.
JD turns to Jensen, pocketing his keys. “Comatose people do not respond to any stimuli. If I were to open his eyelid and flash a penlight in his eye, the pupil would respond. If no one has taken the time to properly explain Jared’s condition to you, I apologize. But I think you’re either too tired or too traumatized—yes, you are, don’t argue—to understand what Doc Connell has been telling you. Or she could have shit bedside manner. Either way, I want you to understand Jared isn’t as bad off as you’ve been thinking. That is your trauma presenting itself.
“I’m not going to tell you to sleep or eat. I know that would be pointless, just, try, Jensen, try to pull yourself out of the dark thoughts you’re having.”
Doc Morgan claps a hand on Jensen’s shoulder and gives a squeeze. Then, he’s gone, the door shutting gently behind him.
He broods on JD’s words. He had come to terms that his life would end soon, now, that hearty jerk of Jared’s foot makes him reevaluate everything. He knows JD is right, Jensen is traumatized. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He doesn’t want to fall into the mode of thinking that things are okay and getting better only to have them deteriorate. He made that mistake after Colin took out the Marchesis. Thought that the war was over, that he and Jared could move on with the next phase of their life, but like an undead villain from a horror movie, the Marchesis had come back to deal one final strike.
Jared whirls him around the floor, so effortless, it feels like flying. Ol’ Blue Eyes was really belting it out on the stage, which Jensen thinks is a little odd because Sinatra has been dead since 1998. The sparkle and color of the other party guests blend and blur as Jared guides him in another wide turn. His hand is so warm and a gentle pressure as he holds Jensen. He’s smiling that sexy secretive smile that lets Jensen know he’s thinking very dirty things. He wishes they could sneak away for a bit but soon the cake will come out and Jensen will have to give his stupid speech. After that though….
Sinatra holds the last powerful note of the swinging song before the tempo drops. The next song starts, and Jared’s steps slow accordingly. Jensen sighs and lays his head on Jared’s broad shoulder, closing his eyes. He never wants to be anywhere else than where he is right now, in Jared’s arms.
My love was true, I can’t believe I’m losing you
There is a crack. Jared makes a soft gasping noise. Jensen lifts his head from Jared’s shoulder. Jared’s eyes are wide in shock or fear, Jensen doesn’t know. Jared slips from Jensen’s arms, falling to the floor. There are screams and shouts happening around him. People are running away, but Sinatra is still singing. Jensen falls to his knees beside Jared. His eyes rake down Jared’s body.
What can I do, I can't believe I'm losing you
Blood. So much blood. It pours from Jared’s chest, spreading in a grotesque bloom staining his pretty aqua blue waistcoat purple. Help. Jensen has to help him. Jared’s gazing up at him pleadingly, eyes so big and scared. He can’t remember ever seeing Jared look as frightened as he does now. He’s making these wet choked gasping noises. He can’t breathe? Jared can’t breathe and he’s bleeding to death!
Jensen lifts his head, looking around for help, but the only other person around is a skeletal Frank Sinatra crooning into a microphone.
We've passed the point of no return
Jensen strips off his own shirt. There is a bullet hole in it but his chest is fine. The edges burned with gunpowder. If he was the one who was shot why is Jared the one bleeding? Jensen doesn’t understand. If there are still party guests Jensen doesn’t know, all he can see is the stain of blood on his chest growing bigger and bigger, swallowing the world. Jensen presses his hand to the wound. Oh God. It’s so hot, and there is a sickening wet squelch as he puts pressure against it. Blood oozes between his fingers, coating them red.
It's still too new, I can't believe I'm losing you
There is so much blood. It’s hot and thick. Jensen can’t seem to staunch the flow. He presses harder. His vision blurs and burns with tears. Jared’s a ghostly white but his lips are blue. He can’t breathe, dear god he can’t breathe and the blood is so much it’s the human body shouldn’t have this much blood in it. His hands are coated in it, slippery and scalding. Jared’s eyes flutter. His mouth opens and more blood pours out. Jensen cries out in terror. So much blood too much blood. It won’t stop won’t stop won’t stop.
“Jared!” Jensen screams.
Jensen jerks awake, a scream poised to escape his mouth.
“Hey, Mr. Ackles,” Jensen starts realizing he’s not alone in Jared’s room, one of Jared’s day nurses, Lindsey McKeon, is in as well, making notes on Jared’s chart. She is the friendliest and brightest of Jared’s nurses, in her mid to late thirties, dark hair and eyes. “Good to see you got some sleep, although judging by how scared you look, I’d say it wasn’t very restful.”
“No,” Jensen says and scrubs a hand over his face, trying to shake the terror of his dream, but he can’t. It lives inside him now, very much at home and grows each day.
“Saw your son come by and visit. He’s a handsome one. Is he single?” Lindsey asks.
Jensen smiles albeit mechanically. “Married for six years now. Two kids.”
Lindsey sighs dramatically. “Always the way.” She wheels her cart over to Jared’s bedside and notes his vitals. “His temperature is down,” she says smiling at him. “He’s starting to respond to the antibiotics.” She taps away on her tablet. “And Dr. Connell ordered different doses of the pain meds she had him on following the surgery.”
“He’ll wake up?” Jensen asks, scrubbing his face.
She nods. “As soon as the heavy doses work their way out of his system. But the new doses are still pretty powerful, so don’t expect him to turn cartwheels or tap dance.” After she notes Jared’s vitals, she checks and changes the dressing on his surgical incision.
When Jared had first been moved into this room he had had a tube running from the incision to drain off excess fluid. That had been removed recently. Now, Jared’s incision was covered with gauze and tapes, the dressing not saturated with blood or plasma. Jensen takes that as a good sign.
Jensen whimpers at the sight of the eight inch line of staples and stitches keeping Jared’s chest closed.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Lindsey says matter of factly. “It’s not red or inflamed, it’s not leaking pus or have an odor. He’s healing very well.”
Jensen thinks that is a massive understatement considering that chest had been cracked wide open. He feels his eyes sting. Jared will wear that scar for the rest of his life and he has it because of Jensen.
“Mr. Ackles?” Lindsey says softly, her brown eyes are warm with sympathy as she gazes at him. “You’re overwrought. You need some rest, real rest. I can—”
“I’m not leaving him,” Jensen cuts her off, glares at her. He is fucking sick of people telling him to rest and go home. If it was Jensen in that bed, Jared would be doing exactly what Jensen is.
“I know, sir. I was going to suggest a different chair. It will convert into a bed. Not a big or comfortable bed, but you could at least lay down. And you won’t have to leave him.”
Jensen turns it over in his mind quickly. His back is aching like a bastard from sitting, and his ass is numb. The room is not big. The bed and machines take up most of the space. He nods his consent.
It’s a couple of hours before a burly orderly brings in a worn brown vinyl monstrosity. Jensen stands and helps him position the chair-bed near the foot of Jared’s hospital bed. He demonstrates how the chair converts into a very small narrow bed. It doesn’t look at all comfortable and is way too small for a man Jensen’s size. It will no doubt play merry hell on his back. He thanks the orderly. He shifts his gaze from the makeshift bed and back to Jensen in a way that tells Jensen he knows what Jensen is thinking, before he leaves.
Jensen stands for a bit, feels good to stretch the muscles in his legs and back, but stays in the room, mostly at Jared’s bedside. Jared’s eyes are moving beneath his lids. Jensen wonders what Jared might be dreaming about. He hopes they are sweet and filled with sun and sand. Tentatively he takes Jared’s hand, careful of the IV ports, though they aren’t hooked up to anything currently. He kisses Jared’s wedding ring then lays it back down gently.
“I’m going to still be here, Jare. Just gonna lie down for a bit.” He feels his exhaustion like a lead weight. “I would never leave you.” He bends and presses a kiss to Jared’s forehead.” Reassured by the warmth—but not too warm—of his skin. He gazes down at Jared, noting the pallor of his skin. It’s not the sickly grey, but not his usual golden tan. More somewhere in the middle. He takes that, and the fact that Jared’s fever is breaking as positive, and allows himself to believe what Doc Morgan told him, that Jared is going to recover.
Author: rose-the-hat
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: R
Words: 301K-ish
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 dozes and dreams, not for the first time, of blood and screams. He jerks awake with a light tapping on the door.
“Dad?”
Jensen sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Yes, Colin.”
“Can I come in? Talk to you and Jay?”
“Yeah.”
Colin sits beside Jensen. “Hey, Jay. Aren’t you tired of Dad being here all the time? Nevermind. Everyone knows the answer to that.” Colin smiles but it’s a wan hollow version of his usual smile.
Jensen knows Colin is trying to make amends after his last visit and loves him for it. But there is an awkwardness and stiffness in Colin’s mannerisms.
“Ems gave me these to bring.” He extracts another saran wrapped stack of Jared’s favorite cookies. Jensen ate the last ones. “And coffee.” He sets the items on the over-the-bed table. “Jay, don’t eat like that all the time. You’re in your fifties now, you’ll get fat.”
Jensen smiles despite himself. He’s not so out of it he doesn’t understand what scheme Colin is running. He’s trying to play up to Jensen, probably gearing up to ask him to leave again. If he fucking does Jensen will haul off and punch the little shit.
“You okay, Kid?” Jensen asks as Colin sits and lets out a tired sigh.
“No, I’m not okay, Dad. I’m fucking worried about you.”
Not this shit again. He is fed up with the worried or sympathetic looks from everyone who glances at him. “That is your father and you act like you don’t even care how hurt he is.”
Hurt flashes in Colin’s eyes before he rallies. “That is not true. He’s getting the best treatment. He’s going to be fine. It’s you that I’m worried about! You haven’t left this hospital, this room, in two, almost three days now. You look terrible. You haven’t changed your clothes. I can smell that you haven’t showered. You’re exhausted. You’re scared. You’re probably lonely. Have you even slept?”
“Who is the goddamned parent here?” Jensen barks. “You tend to your kids, of which I am not one. Get the hell out of here, Colin.”
Colin is not to be deterred. “You’re still stuck in that moment when Jared was shot. You can’t see anything but dark now, Dad, and that scares me.” Colin’s voice wavers and Jensen makes the mistake of looking over at the other man. Colin really does have his father’s eyes, fucking lethal when they are naked and pleading like this. Jensen turns his gaze back to his intubated husband on the bed. Jared’s the important one. When—if—Jared dies and Jensen does what he has to, Colin will be fine. He’ll have Emma, and the kids to lean on.
“Please come home with me. Just to shower and change. I’ll bring you right back.”
Jensen knows Colin is hoping that once he gets Jensen out of here, around Jaysen and little Meggie Jensen will melt and forget about Jared. That would never happen, much as he adores the little ones. “Get out of here, Colin.”
Colin sighs and stands. He places a hand on Jensen’s shoulder and gives a hard squeeze. “I know what you’re thinking about doing. Please don’t. Jared is not the only person who loves and needs you. Think about Jaysen and Meggie first.” Another squeeze to his shoulder and the click of heels on the tile as Colin leaves.
The front door bursts open. Jensen pushes to his feet and draws his gun. For a heart-stopping moment, he thinks the Marchesis have finally launched an invasion of the Ackles Compound. God knows they could be as their attacks have grown bolder since Jared and Colin returned Angie Marchesi back to the bosom of her loving Family, raped and disfigured. Everyone knew doing so would have serious repercussions, and were on their guard. Colin had secreted Emma and the kids away to a safe location, known only to him and out of Texas; the same was true for family members and loved ones of other Organization members.
Even though the Marchesis attacks were more brazen, they were also stupider and more desperate, which spoke of anger than careful planning and thoughtful execution. Case in point, a couple of weeks ago some Marchesi capos were seen infiltrating the Ackles Enterprises building, and attempting to plant explosive devices in the basement and Jensen’s office. Had they been careful in their planning they would have known that would never have worked. Aldis, Chad Lindberg, and Osric Chau had been in the building working late on a new line of software and caught the intruders. Lindberg had been killed; Osric and Aldis wounded before Aldis killed the two associates and secured the building.
The counter attacks the Organization executed were as cold and clinical as they have always been. Mad Mike had used his connections to disrupt their flow of drugs, undercutting and stealing their suppliers and customers. Matt Cohen and Jake Abel had disrupted their penny ante smuggling and counterfeiting rings. They couldn’t move any goods in or out of the state. Slowly their revenue streams were drying up. The Marchesis were still in legal hot water. Their manpower was significantly reduced. The Marchesis had money but Jensen had wealth. He could afford a long siege.
Jensen pulls the hammer back and pivots to face the invader. He aims his gun, finger pressing against the trigger, but immediately points his weapon at the ceiling when he realizes it’s Colin. The man’s face was flushed and his eyes were wet. Heart rate, which had been coldly calm even as he thought he was facing a Marchesi invasion, shoots up like a rocket.
“What?”
“Tahmoh is dead and Brock was almost killed.”
“What happened?”
“Marchesi affiliated goons walked up and shot Tahmoh! Only reason Brock wasn’t killed too was because Tahmoh pushed him away! I loved Brock!” Colin shouted, but as powerful and full of anger as his voice it was, there was also sorrow and grief beneath. “He was the first person I fell in love with and they fucking tried to kill him! Imagine if they had known our history. They probably would have targeted him sooner! This shit has to stop, Dad! How much longer before they target Emma?” His anguished eyes pinned Jensen’s. “Or Jay?”
An icy hand squeezes Jensen’s heart at the thought. He wants to rationalize that it could never happen. Anyone willing to go after Jared, with his reputation of an insane mix of ruthlessness and brutality, would be foolish in the extreme or suicidal. Jensen knows it could happen, knows with the way the Marchesis have been escalating things the possibility of Emma and the kids being targets, Jared being a target, is very real. He supposes he’s gotten too complacent with the shield of Jared’s reputation. He does not want Jared’s blood—or Emma and the kids’—on his hands. “What do you propose we do?”
“Kill them. All of them. I have a plan. They’re Catholics, right? Midnight Mass for Christmas is coming up. They’ll all be together, associates, soldiers, capos, and the Marchesis themselves, in one place. Let me take them all out in one shot.”
Jensen has been in this life since he was sixteen; killed for the first time when he was nineteen. Ordered the deaths of dozens, assisted in interrogations but something in him recoils at Colin’s idea. He’s not religious or even a particularly spiritual, but the idea of murdering in a holy building on a holy day tests his limits.
“Dad.” Colin’s voice is hard, a bit of a challenge in it. “You want me to take over soon. You’ve been grooming me for this position since I was seventeen. AJ is dead. Travis is dead. Kane’s dead. Stevie Guitar is dead. Chad Lindburg is dead. Now, Tahmoh. How many more lives is it gonna take, Dad, for you to stop fucking around?”
“Watch it!” Jensen warns, stung by the accusation. “You tread very carefully, Colin. You are my son, and I love you, but you watch yourself. You speak to me with respect and never forget you still answer to me.”
A year ago, hell, a few months ago, Colin would have cowed and backed down, but not now. He doesn’t bow his head or avert his gaze. “That’s why I’m asking for your permission to do this.” Colin took a step closer, shoulders and back straight. Unlike his father, when Colin’s bloodlust is aroused, his eyes grow even more arctic and his face scarily devoid of emotion.
“Next time it will be my family or Jay, and you fucking know it. Taking out the Marchesis is what needs to be done. This fucking push-pull tug of war is accomplishing nothing. Jay’s on board with my plan; he knows it needs to be done.” He takes another step closer to Jensen. Jensen takes a step back. “You know it needs to be done, too. So, find your fucking balls and let me do it.”
That is one trespass too much. Jensen pulls his fist back and slugs Colin right across his chiseled jaw. The other man’s head whips to the side on impact.
“What did I fucking say? You respect me, boy! Not because I’m your Dad, but because I’ve been running this business longer than you’ve been alive!”
Colin recovers almost instantly, wipes the blood from his mouth. “You won’t be if you keep sitting back while the Marchesis spill our blood.”
Jensen feels cold steal over him. Colin isn’t threatening him, merely pointing out the danger the Organization is in if Jensen doesn’t step up and make the Marchesis pay for their transgressions. Colin seems to soften, his posture relaxes and he sighs.
“Dad, you are losing your stomach for this business. Let me end this. Then you and Jared can retire to your island; like you want to, like you both deserve.”
It’s not easy to hear, but he knows it’s true. Colin is not being accusatory, he’s voicing thoughts Jensen’s been having as well. He had felt out of his depth since this shit started. Maybe he was too old school. The game the Marchesis were playing didn’t follow rules or patterns Jensen knew. Lazaro Marchesi would never have pulled the shit that his kids were. The old Don had operated the way Jensen did, the way Alan had.
“Yes.” Jensen says, and he knows it’s the last order he will ever give. When the Marchesis are gone, Colin will be the leader of the Organization. “Do it. End this.”
When the Holy Trinity Catholic Church explodes at 12:02 AM on Christmas, killing all the Marchesis Jensen allows himself to breathe a sigh of relief. The war is over, Colin is firmly at the helm and soon Jared and he will be off to retire in peace and tropical bliss.
The door to Jared’s room opens and someone takes the seat beside Jensen. He knows it’s not Colin. Colin doesn’t smell like leather, tobacco, and vaguely of motor oil.
“Hey, Jensen,” Doc Morgan rumbles in a deep voice. “They tell you what’s going on?”
Doc Morgan, though not employed by the hospital anymore still has some pull and Jensen allowed him as Jared and Jensen’s private physician, to be informed of Jared’s medical status.
“He’s got an infection,” Jensen says dully.
“Yes, and that is always a risk with gunshot wounds. They gave Tetanus prophylaxis as a precaution, but Jared has a bacterial infection, and that is why they are giving him those antibiotics. There is also a risk of sepsis. Jared doesn’t have that.”
Jensen can’t tell if there is a ‘yet’ implied in there or not. He thinks not. If Jared had that or was at risk of developing that Doc Morgan would say so. He’s never bullshitted Jensen before.
“I’m not trying to scare you more, Jensen. Shit is bad, but it could be worse. Jared is in serious condition but stable. When he was brought in he was critical, but I’m cautiously optimistic he’ll recover.”
Jensen scoffs.
“Who has the medical degree here, me or you?”
Doc Morgan has got Jensen there. JD is better at understanding and interpreting what Jared’s doctors say whereas all Jensen hears is “coded twice. Massive blood loss. Coded twice. Pericardial sac. Coded twice. Codedtwicecodedtwicecodedtwice.” Now with this fever and fucking infection Jensen can’t help but feel hopeless.
“Jared made it through surgery—”
Coded twice.
“And that was the big hurdle. There is a lot going for Jared. The bullet wasn’t a larger caliber, it wasn’t jacketed or hollow point so it couldn’t inflict worse damage on the thorax—the chest, rather. It missed his heart. Missed the major arteries and veins.”
Pericardial sac nicked
“There is good reason why I’m optimistic, Jensen. I’m not trying to blow smoke up your ass. Jared is not in a vegetative state or a coma, you understand that, right?”
Jensen hadn’t, but now that Doc Morgan has told him that he does feel infinitesimally better.
“He’s unconscious because of the heavy duty drugs they have him on. Soon, Dr. Connell will reduce the dose and Jared will regain consciousness.”
It seems almost too much to hope for that Jared will wake up and be normal.
Coded twice.
“He…will he…? Brain damage?” The words claw their way up Jensen’s throat and out his mouth.
“Brain damage happens when the brain is injured, Jensen. Jared’s brain wasn’t injured. He had no blow to the head, no stroke, no swelling or bleeding, anything like that.”
Coded twice
“If he does have some impairment it will be because his brain was deprived of oxygen for too long. I doubt that happened; nevertheless, when Jared wakes up his doctors will evaluate him for any damage, but I don’t think it’s cause for concern.”
“H—.” Jensen’s throat closes up. He coughs, forces himself to swallow his fear and push the words out that have been ringing a clarion in his brain. “He coded. Twice.”
JD nods. “I am aware. That was related to his blood loss. They had to get it under control before they could do anything else. He coded again when they were trying to get him hooked up to a Cardiopulmonary bypass machine. They got him back quickly however, and were able to extract the bullet and repair the damage to his lung and pericardial sac.
“I know you’re scared, Jensen; that’s why Colin got in touch with me. He wants you to understand it’s not really as dark as you’ve been thinking. That guy is worried sick about you, more so than Jared. Worried what this is doing to your mental state. God knows you and Jared are the most codependent couple I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m not leaving him. He never once left me, never gave up on me. When I was down in a pit for ten days he pushed himself to his breaking point and passed it for me. I’ll do the same for him. Even if all I can do for him is sit here.” He sinks deeper into the chair. He’s not leaving. Not until Jared wakes up and tells him it’s okay for him to go.
“Let me show you something.” JD stands at the foot of Jared’s bed. He untucks the sheet and blanket exposing one of Jared’s big feet. JD pulls out his key ring, selects a key and scratches it along the bottom of Jared’s foot. Jared’s foot jerks.
Jensen feels a happy thrill run through him. He gasps and feels his eyes sting.
JD turns to Jensen, pocketing his keys. “Comatose people do not respond to any stimuli. If I were to open his eyelid and flash a penlight in his eye, the pupil would respond. If no one has taken the time to properly explain Jared’s condition to you, I apologize. But I think you’re either too tired or too traumatized—yes, you are, don’t argue—to understand what Doc Connell has been telling you. Or she could have shit bedside manner. Either way, I want you to understand Jared isn’t as bad off as you’ve been thinking. That is your trauma presenting itself.
“I’m not going to tell you to sleep or eat. I know that would be pointless, just, try, Jensen, try to pull yourself out of the dark thoughts you’re having.”
Doc Morgan claps a hand on Jensen’s shoulder and gives a squeeze. Then, he’s gone, the door shutting gently behind him.
He broods on JD’s words. He had come to terms that his life would end soon, now, that hearty jerk of Jared’s foot makes him reevaluate everything. He knows JD is right, Jensen is traumatized. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He doesn’t want to fall into the mode of thinking that things are okay and getting better only to have them deteriorate. He made that mistake after Colin took out the Marchesis. Thought that the war was over, that he and Jared could move on with the next phase of their life, but like an undead villain from a horror movie, the Marchesis had come back to deal one final strike.
Jared whirls him around the floor, so effortless, it feels like flying. Ol’ Blue Eyes was really belting it out on the stage, which Jensen thinks is a little odd because Sinatra has been dead since 1998. The sparkle and color of the other party guests blend and blur as Jared guides him in another wide turn. His hand is so warm and a gentle pressure as he holds Jensen. He’s smiling that sexy secretive smile that lets Jensen know he’s thinking very dirty things. He wishes they could sneak away for a bit but soon the cake will come out and Jensen will have to give his stupid speech. After that though….
Sinatra holds the last powerful note of the swinging song before the tempo drops. The next song starts, and Jared’s steps slow accordingly. Jensen sighs and lays his head on Jared’s broad shoulder, closing his eyes. He never wants to be anywhere else than where he is right now, in Jared’s arms.
My love was true, I can’t believe I’m losing you
There is a crack. Jared makes a soft gasping noise. Jensen lifts his head from Jared’s shoulder. Jared’s eyes are wide in shock or fear, Jensen doesn’t know. Jared slips from Jensen’s arms, falling to the floor. There are screams and shouts happening around him. People are running away, but Sinatra is still singing. Jensen falls to his knees beside Jared. His eyes rake down Jared’s body.
What can I do, I can't believe I'm losing you
Blood. So much blood. It pours from Jared’s chest, spreading in a grotesque bloom staining his pretty aqua blue waistcoat purple. Help. Jensen has to help him. Jared’s gazing up at him pleadingly, eyes so big and scared. He can’t remember ever seeing Jared look as frightened as he does now. He’s making these wet choked gasping noises. He can’t breathe? Jared can’t breathe and he’s bleeding to death!
Jensen lifts his head, looking around for help, but the only other person around is a skeletal Frank Sinatra crooning into a microphone.
We've passed the point of no return
Jensen strips off his own shirt. There is a bullet hole in it but his chest is fine. The edges burned with gunpowder. If he was the one who was shot why is Jared the one bleeding? Jensen doesn’t understand. If there are still party guests Jensen doesn’t know, all he can see is the stain of blood on his chest growing bigger and bigger, swallowing the world. Jensen presses his hand to the wound. Oh God. It’s so hot, and there is a sickening wet squelch as he puts pressure against it. Blood oozes between his fingers, coating them red.
It's still too new, I can't believe I'm losing you
There is so much blood. It’s hot and thick. Jensen can’t seem to staunch the flow. He presses harder. His vision blurs and burns with tears. Jared’s a ghostly white but his lips are blue. He can’t breathe, dear god he can’t breathe and the blood is so much it’s the human body shouldn’t have this much blood in it. His hands are coated in it, slippery and scalding. Jared’s eyes flutter. His mouth opens and more blood pours out. Jensen cries out in terror. So much blood too much blood. It won’t stop won’t stop won’t stop.
“Jared!” Jensen screams.
Jensen jerks awake, a scream poised to escape his mouth.
“Hey, Mr. Ackles,” Jensen starts realizing he’s not alone in Jared’s room, one of Jared’s day nurses, Lindsey McKeon, is in as well, making notes on Jared’s chart. She is the friendliest and brightest of Jared’s nurses, in her mid to late thirties, dark hair and eyes. “Good to see you got some sleep, although judging by how scared you look, I’d say it wasn’t very restful.”
“No,” Jensen says and scrubs a hand over his face, trying to shake the terror of his dream, but he can’t. It lives inside him now, very much at home and grows each day.
“Saw your son come by and visit. He’s a handsome one. Is he single?” Lindsey asks.
Jensen smiles albeit mechanically. “Married for six years now. Two kids.”
Lindsey sighs dramatically. “Always the way.” She wheels her cart over to Jared’s bedside and notes his vitals. “His temperature is down,” she says smiling at him. “He’s starting to respond to the antibiotics.” She taps away on her tablet. “And Dr. Connell ordered different doses of the pain meds she had him on following the surgery.”
“He’ll wake up?” Jensen asks, scrubbing his face.
She nods. “As soon as the heavy doses work their way out of his system. But the new doses are still pretty powerful, so don’t expect him to turn cartwheels or tap dance.” After she notes Jared’s vitals, she checks and changes the dressing on his surgical incision.
When Jared had first been moved into this room he had had a tube running from the incision to drain off excess fluid. That had been removed recently. Now, Jared’s incision was covered with gauze and tapes, the dressing not saturated with blood or plasma. Jensen takes that as a good sign.
Jensen whimpers at the sight of the eight inch line of staples and stitches keeping Jared’s chest closed.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Lindsey says matter of factly. “It’s not red or inflamed, it’s not leaking pus or have an odor. He’s healing very well.”
Jensen thinks that is a massive understatement considering that chest had been cracked wide open. He feels his eyes sting. Jared will wear that scar for the rest of his life and he has it because of Jensen.
“Mr. Ackles?” Lindsey says softly, her brown eyes are warm with sympathy as she gazes at him. “You’re overwrought. You need some rest, real rest. I can—”
“I’m not leaving him,” Jensen cuts her off, glares at her. He is fucking sick of people telling him to rest and go home. If it was Jensen in that bed, Jared would be doing exactly what Jensen is.
“I know, sir. I was going to suggest a different chair. It will convert into a bed. Not a big or comfortable bed, but you could at least lay down. And you won’t have to leave him.”
Jensen turns it over in his mind quickly. His back is aching like a bastard from sitting, and his ass is numb. The room is not big. The bed and machines take up most of the space. He nods his consent.
It’s a couple of hours before a burly orderly brings in a worn brown vinyl monstrosity. Jensen stands and helps him position the chair-bed near the foot of Jared’s hospital bed. He demonstrates how the chair converts into a very small narrow bed. It doesn’t look at all comfortable and is way too small for a man Jensen’s size. It will no doubt play merry hell on his back. He thanks the orderly. He shifts his gaze from the makeshift bed and back to Jensen in a way that tells Jensen he knows what Jensen is thinking, before he leaves.
Jensen stands for a bit, feels good to stretch the muscles in his legs and back, but stays in the room, mostly at Jared’s bedside. Jared’s eyes are moving beneath his lids. Jensen wonders what Jared might be dreaming about. He hopes they are sweet and filled with sun and sand. Tentatively he takes Jared’s hand, careful of the IV ports, though they aren’t hooked up to anything currently. He kisses Jared’s wedding ring then lays it back down gently.
“I’m going to still be here, Jare. Just gonna lie down for a bit.” He feels his exhaustion like a lead weight. “I would never leave you.” He bends and presses a kiss to Jared’s forehead.” Reassured by the warmth—but not too warm—of his skin. He gazes down at Jared, noting the pallor of his skin. It’s not the sickly grey, but not his usual golden tan. More somewhere in the middle. He takes that, and the fact that Jared’s fever is breaking as positive, and allows himself to believe what Doc Morgan told him, that Jared is going to recover.
