dime_liora | Damage (3/3)

Title: Damage
Wordcount: 21,587
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Jensen/Jared, Jensen/OFC, Jared/OFC
Warning(s): Serious angst, infidelity
Beta(s): The ever incredible, earned a buttload of cupcakes, Sammichgirl.
Prompt(s): Written for an anonymous bidder for the AO3 auction. Loosely based off of the movie Damage.
Summary: Jensen Ackles has the perfect life. He's the governor of Texas, happily married, and has an incredible daughter. Everything is fine, until his little girl brings her new boyfriend home.

The resignation was big news, or so Jensen heard from Chris. He imagined his friend sugar-coated the media’s speculation because he didn’t pick up a newspaper or open a web browser. Instead, Jensen took up Steve’s offer to hide out in his family cabin in upper Michigan.

The quiet did him good, the silence reminded him of how alone he was and should continue to be, and Jensen didn’t miss his cell phone or the flashing lights. There was a part of him, distant and sharp, that longed for feminine laughter or the rush of doing a good thing, but otherwise his old life was behind him.

As for Jared? Jensen took the stress off the younger man by simply letting him go. After walking out of the hospital Jensen dropped his cell phone in Mike’s hand and headed for Christian’s. He let Tom make the calls to set up the press conference, and after it was done Mike carried out the last of his duties by taking Jensen to the airport.

Maybe Chris was right, and it was simply Jensen being a coward by not giving Jared the chance to run on him. Maybe Steve was right and it was Jensen’s ultimate way of punishing himself. Either way the whole thing had been for nothing, unless you counted the fact that he could now sleep through the night.

The guilt didn’t mess with that at least.

He got to know the local grocers, a nice old couple that had owned their store for thirty years, and several hunters that used the area regularly. Jensen perfected his cast, and managed to catch his dinner once or twice. His daily run made it to ten miles, and he planned to add swimming when the winter ended. Every now and then the snow ended up deeper than he could dig himself out of, and learning how to handle that was daunting enough for a Texas boy, but Jensen learned after the first time to stock up regularly and listen to the weather forecast often.

There was three feet of snow on Jensen’s birthday, and he insisted that Steve and Chris stay where it was safe. His old friend told him he was gaining influence and pull, and that there was a good chance their bill would be passed. Jensen’s name had been removed, but Chris insisted that it was Jensen’s baby and thusly his win. It was a nice thought.

Winter gave way to spring, slowly but surely, and with spring Jensen’s fish hauls increased. So did his loneliness. Chris called the house phone often, and Jensen answered at least twenty percent of the time. He’d insist he was fine, and try his best to head off any visits. Eventually he had to give in and let his old friend come.

Chris studied him for a long time, and then said what he and Steve were no doubt thinking.

“Well, you look like shit, but the beard’s not terrible.”

They managed to make it four days without anything salient coming up. The three of them talked about movies they’d seen, college stories before Jensen met Emily, and music they loved. It was easy, simple, and Jensen realized how isolated he’d been and how much it hurt.

That didn’t change how glad he was for them to leave.

In the end it was better that he was alone. Soon he’d need to find somewhere else, a place of his own that offered the same simple solitude. His father had sent him a terse letter announcing that it was good he’d gotten out before whatever mistake he made went public, and that he’d be sure to get his monthly stipend and his inheritance even though he’d ultimately failed the Ackles name.

Jensen threw the letter away and let the money collect in an account Emily had access to. He had his own money, and it would more than cover the lifestyle he’d adopted.

By the official start of summer Jensen had chosen a cabin not too far from Steve’s. It afforded him the same amount of comfort and avoided a lecture from his only remaining friends. This way it seemed that he was interested in staying close enough to be visited.

Chris was talking political ambitions, making the jump from lobbying to service, and Jensen lauded his bravery. Considering he’d gotten the same-sex marriage bill passed he was in a fine position to do so. Jensen was touched when Chris and Steve invited him to their wedding. He was even more moved that they didn’t hold it against him that he didn’t go.

He did see the pictures of Emily and Marty there.

When winter rolled back around Jensen quietly signed the extremely fair divorce papers that stated irreconcilable differences, and with their bank accounts split and their union dissolved Jensen no longer had anything holding him back from the last step in his transformation.

Whether he’d considered suicide before actively or not he couldn’t say, but he spent hours obsessing over his Will and planning out his note. It took up a good deal of his staring blankly at the water time, but he figured getting it right was fairly vital.

Two weeks after Christmas Jensen filed his Will with his new attorney, and then sent a copy to Chris. He should have known better. Should have figured out that Chris would understand better than anybody.

More importantly, he should have expected the knock on the door. Instead he was flummoxed when it came, rolled off the couch and staggered lethargically to the door to answer before the sound made his constant headache a full-blown migraine. How long had it been since he’d ran? Since he’d eaten? Jensen couldn’t remember. He just remembered the way the snow piled against the window, the way Marty used to turn into his hand as a baby, and the red-rimmed eyes Jared turned on him that last day.

He didn’t make it to the door.

----

When Jensen woke up there was a cool cloth on his forehead and warm hand stroking his chest. His eyes were too blurry to see properly, but the shadowy figure above him looked too big to be Chris.

A familiar voice assaulted his aching head. “You idiot.”

“You’re usually nicer. You smile with your dimples and you tell me you love me. I like you nicer.”

What was he saying and who the hell was he saying it to? There was a thick breath above him and something wet dripped onto his lips. He tasted salt.

“And I like you alive, but we both seem hell-bent on keeping each other from getting what we want. Open your mouth jackass.”

Jensen obediently opened his mouth and got a strong taste of mint for his troubles. He choked briefly and then he was being pulled up into the warmth and his back was being stroked.

“When your fever’s gone we’re gonna have a long talk about how to take care of yourself. Better yet, I’m just gonna stick around and take care of you.”

The taste lingered, but Jensen ignored it in favor of curling into the warm body holding him.

“I’m glad it’s you. Outta all the people I coulda seen last I’m glad it’s you. I love you Jay.”

There was that salt taste again, and that was wrong. Jared only tasted like salt when he was crying.

“Shut up. I love you too.”

---

When Jensen woke again the world wasn’t so fuzzy, and weak sunlight filtered through the cabin’s curtains. This time he could make Jared out clearly. The frown that greeted him was a welcome and heartbreaking sight.

“I’ve got soup broth. Considering how prominent your ribs are I’m betting you’d be lucky to hold even that down post-fever or no.”

Jensen’s cough rattled his whole body, and when it finally stopped he breathlessly forced out, “How’d you find me?”

Jared gave him a look before spooning out a helping of broth and tipping it to Jensen’s lips.

“Chris read your Will and decided you’d hit the apex of stupid and needed intervention. Considering I’ve been bothering him for a whole damn year to tell me where you were it was high time. Drink your soup Jensen.”

He feebly reached up and missed the spoon entirely, hand flopping against Jared’s chest instead.

“Why?”

The eyes he’d been so enamored with, become so obsessed with, and loved so much were shadowed and dark. Jared’s face didn’t have the same angular lines as Jensen’s, but there was strain and misery evident in his expression.

“Because I fell in love with you. I thought I made that obvious. At first I kinda hated you for taking off like that, and for assuming I wouldn’t stick by you when things got rough. Your friends wouldn’t help me find you, but they would tell me you were somewhere punishing yourself. So instead of hating you I worried about your dumb ass. I’ve spent the last year pining for you instead of trying to get over you. So maybe I’m the stupid one. Drink your broth.”

Jensen felt his chin quivering, his eyes watering, and Jared dropped the spoon into the bowl and pulled him into a hug.

“Your mom told me that story and I just – I didn’t believe it, but I couldn’t risk it. Or I didn’t want you to risk it. After what I did-“

Jared’s hands smoothed through his too long hair and then down his back. Jensen found himself being rocked like a little child, propped practically on Jared’s lap.

“We did. What we did. And I can imagine what Momma told you. Dave was always the level-headed one, the one that was gonna make something of himself instead of going into art. She blamed me for what happened with Dave because it was easier to see him as the victim of a seduction than as the aggressor. Afterwards I knew how she felt, even if she didn’t want to feel that way, and I couldn’t face it.”

His head was tipped back and thumbs gently wiped the tears from under his eyes.

“Chris and Steve told me a little bit about you too. Some of it I knew from Marty, and some of it was brand new. A lot of it was about your dad, and what happened when your brother let him down. And then, a month ago, I ran into Emily.”

Jensen swallowed hard and set off another round of coughing. Jared cradled him through it, and then made him take two more spoonfuls of soup.

“She told me about the last time she saw you, and what she said. She also told me she was pretty sure she’d shoot me if I didn’t end up making you happy. I felt pretty awful about that.”

He nodded, and then tucked his face into Jared’s neck. “The whole thing was pretty awful.”

Jared huffed something that might have been a laugh. “True enough. We started this thing all wrong Jensen. We met the wrong way, we shouldn’t have done anything until we were both free, and we hurt people. The thing you forgot was that it wasn’t just Emily and Marty. It was you and me hurting too. I don’t know if anything beautiful can come from that sort of damage, but I know I can’t go any longer without trying. Do you think we could both stop running away and try?”

And Jensen couldn’t word his gratitude, his hope, but he could press his lips against Jared’s and communicate that way.

---

They slept in separate beds at first. Jensen was slow to recover from the flu that Jared had found him with, and for a while all he could do was watch as Jared plundered his dwindling firewood supply and restocked his pantry with easy to cook items.

They talked. They talked about their lives, about the things that had shaped them, and the events they never wanted anyone to know. Jensen learned all about the pressure and fear Jared lived with when his brother started to make advances, about the guilt when the note named him as the reason David took his own life, and he held Jared as the younger man cried long repressed tears into his shoulder.

Jensen, for his part, spilled all his grief and guilt over what he’d done to his family. He told Jared about how cold his father was, how precise, and how Jensen had modeled himself to be exactly what was necessary to never end up exiled. He almost laughed when he looked around the cabin and the irony was too thick to name.

When Jared finally moved into his bedroom it was lacking in any sexuality. Jared turned the downstairs bedroom into a studio, and refused to let Jensen see what he was working on. He’d come out after a few hours with paint splattered on his skin and a rumbling stomach. The two of them would tangle on the couch and eat together with the fire roaring and their hands occasionally touching.

It was perfect, it was painful, and Jensen loved every second of it.

When his birthday rolled around again Jared spent the entire morning looking guilty and unsure. Jensen didn’t figure out why until the knock came and Jared opened it to a pale looking Marty and a dour Chris.

She slapped him, hard, and then she wrapped her arms around him and cried like the little girl he still saw her as.

Marty stayed for two days and Jared spent the nights at Steve’s cabin. She admitted that while she was still furious with Jensen she couldn’t lose her daddy, and Chris had told her how close she’d come to that. Jensen agreed to therapy, and Marty gave him a tentative kiss on the cheek and a bone-crushing hug before she left.

Jared came back an hour later looking like he was ready to be executed, and instead Jensen took him upstairs and opened him up slowly before making love to him.

Maybe there were tears, but neither of them mentioned that part later.

There were still nights where Jensen felt that disconnect, the dark tunnel he’d slipped into when he’d first arrived. Jared always sensed it, and stayed nearby ramping up his natural cheerfulness in an attempt to distract Jensen.

Despite everything though Jensen was of the belief that Jared was worth the pain and the work. Jared’s introduction to his life had destroyed his carefully crafted position, had endangered his relationship with his daughter and ended his marriage, and had almost ended his life.

That didn’t change the fact that Jared had finally taught Jensen about really living.

-----

Three Years Later…

Jensen looked around the art gallery before a strong arm slid around his side.

“You bitch and bitch about seeing them and then won’t give an opinion. You’re a damn tease Jensen Ackles.”

He resisted the urge to stick his tongue out and instead turned his face to receive a kiss. Jared’s hand stroked his side and up under his shirt so that Jensen could feel the cold metal of his ring. The one that matched Jensen’s.

“I think they could use a little work. Your subject is fairly poor.”

The paintings were the culmination of all Jared’s secretive work in the cabin. Some of them were the land they owned together, the cabin, and the lake stretching out ahead of them. The first few were done in dark and muted colors, haunted and surrealistic in a way Jensen understood but hadn’t believed Jared did.

In the center of a few Jensen saw a dark figure, small and hunched against any source of light, and knew who Jared had been capturing.

As the show progressed though the color scheme changed. The paints gained light and focus, the figure grew taller and stronger, and eventually it was a man made of light and dark that strolled the lakeshore and built bonfires.

“Well he looks a lot better with a haircut and a shave I’ll admit. Chris is looking for you.”

“I’m fairly certain that’s Mr. President now.” Chris almost literally appeared out of nowhere, and considering his Secret Service detail that was no small feat.

“Jesus Christ Chris! Warn a guy.” Jensen mocked fainting and Jared laughed brightly.

The President’s mouth curled into a smug and familiar grin as he pushed his hair back and looked around the room.

“Jensen I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”

He took a sip of his champagne and linked his fingers with Jared’s, rings clinking softly as they gripped each other.

“You can ask anything, you’re the leader of the free world, but whether or not I’ll do it is questionable.”

Chris nodded sagely before slapping Jensen’s shoulder. “Son, you owe me ‘bout a million times over but we’ll ignore that. As you know I’m an unconventional and history making President, and as such I’m building a Cabinet to match. I know you retired, but I wanna offer you a position.”

Jared’s hand gripped a little tighter, and Jensen felt his eyes go wide.

“Chris that’s – that’s really nice of you, but even an honorary thing would look bad. Sure, nobody knows the exact truth outside of our little circle, but the mystery was enough to make me untouchable.”

“Ask me how many fucks I give about being touchable or not. I want you as Chief of Staff Jensen. I can’t trust anybody else for it. Now say yes or I’ll charge you with treason.”

Jensen swallowed thickly, and then a huge hand settled over his mouth and nodded his head.

“He says yes.”

When he turned Jared was smiling brightly, hopefully, and Jensen wondered if he would really be allowed to have this wonderful man and the ability to make the world a better place.

It looked like he was going to find out.

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