A Ghost in Your Garden Part 3
Jul. 25th, 2014 04:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dime_lioraSwing low
Grey bones
I don't know
If I'll ever be whole again
Chris and Aldis are back the next day, and the three of them take up residency in the ballroom since Matt is home and this is still top secret. It doesn’t really matter where they go, because Matt doesn’t necessarily get along with Aldis and Chris too well, but they move as far out of his way as possible.
“So we found out a whole bunch of shit. All told there’s been over thirty deaths in this house starting with the original owner Jeffrey-“
“Dean Morgan. His wife buried him. Jared told me some of this. Over thirty? How many over thirty?”
“Not sure. But the-” Aldis is talking, which means Chris is stewing over something and that never ends well for Jensen.
“What do you mean not sure? Like the records were faulty or you just lost count and forgot to take notes?”
Aldis is shaking his head as Chris flips through papers and documents.
“Like, not sure as in six people went missing and are presumed dead, but it was never proven they died in the house. They just disappeared. And the deaths Jensen. They’re all weird. Suicides, young heart attacks, drowning in bathtubs, murder suicides. And falls. Three falls from the top floor. One down the stairs. That one was a little girl in 1890.”
He holds out shaking hands and Chris gives him the photocopies of the news articles and death notices they collected. The sheaf is thick and heavy, and hangs in hands as a condemnation of his decision to stay. To weather out the storm of the paranormal in the interest of keeping his macho defined territory.
Jensen flips through noting names and dates. There doesn’t appear to be a particular pattern for the deaths. Random acts of violence and accidents are mixed up with genders and ages, and Jensen’s barely able to put the papers down in one neat stack when he’s done.
This is a house of death. Jared’s promise from the day before rings hollow in the face of so much damning evidence.
“Jen, you ever get those blueprints?”
Chris looks solemn, serious, and Jensen realizes he completely forgot about the damn blueprints.
“Yeah. They got here last week, but I haven’t looked at them yet. Why?”
“I think you got more house than you planned. I think you got something else you don’t know you bought.”
Jensen lifts an eyebrow, and Chris stands instead of answering. They file out after Chris like children in line, down the steep stairs that Jensen is starting to see differently and out the back door. Chris heads for the copse of trees, a man on a mission, and Jensen feels a cold sweat break out as they reach the edge of them and step into the shady area. He hasn’t really looked around the yard at all. It hasn’t been warm enough to really worry about upkeep, and gardening wasn’t the highest on his list of improvements.
They make their way through several feet of thick pine, and then the trunks stop and there’s a clearing.
A cemetery.
He can’t speak, can’t move, and Aldis sucks in a breath beside him and shakes his head.
“Holy shit you were right. Worst realtor ever.”
Chris nods seriously and crouches beside the crumbling little stone marker closest to them.
“Jeff something. Must be the first owner” He looks to the next one. “Name’s worn smooth on this one.”
The next stone has been destroyed, and Chris skips it. Jumps a ways down the line.
“Chad Lindberg, 1982. Samantha Ferris, 1990.”
Jensen doesn’t need him to read anymore, and he waves Chris off as he sits heavily in the line of trees. He doesn’t cross onto the actual burial ground. Doesn’t need to. He lives in it.
“Why would the families agree to let their loved ones be buried here instead of in a regular cemetery with them? This isn’t a family plot.”
Chris’s head is tilted as he considers the stones, but Aldis offers up an answer.
“Shame? Anger? The Chad guy hung himself in the front hallway, and Samantha killed her boyfriend and then herself.”
Jensen’s eyes scan the headstones. There are about twenty in total, and he wonders how many of them are unreadable. How many met the haunting in the house and insisted on staying. If there’s space for Matt and himself.
“I’ve gotta move. If I don’t move then I’ll be one of these markers. I’ve gotta sell the house and move.”
Aldis looks troubled, but Chris nods his head seriously and holds out a roughened hand to help Jensen up.
“I want to borrow those blueprints Jen.”
----
“You want to what?”
They’re eating dinner in the dining room, much nicer now that it is full of the light and airy colors that Jensen picked to make it look more inviting and open. The irony that he brightened up the room he and Matt fight in the most is not lost on him.
“Move. This house is too much Matt. There’s structural damage in more places than we thought, and no amount of cosmetic changes will cover that. It’ll cost a fortune to fix, and that’s after fixing the foundation.”
Matt lifts an eyebrow and puts his fork down carefully, and that’s how Jensen knows that this is about to be a really ugly fight.
“The foundation, Jensen?”
“The foundation.” It doesn’t matter what he says. Matt knows nothing about home construction and has never listened to the number of lectures Jensen has given him on the subject. “That’s what makes it groan like that. Also why the floor isn’t level. The ground is a clay-based sand with limestone underneath, and the foundation wasn’t put down level on it. The combination of soft soil and soft rock means that sort of irresponsible construction gets worse over time.”
What Jensen isn’t counting on, and he probably should have, is that Matt has never been one to just let go of something.
“And they didn’t catch that in the inspection why?”
Jensen shifts uncomfortably and looks around the room. He doesn’t have a good answer for that and the next step is completely predictable.
“Fine. We’ll file suit and the money will cover the repairs. Can we stay here while they do them?”
“You didn’t even want this house Matt. You wanted a condo downtown. I don’t understand why you’re so set on staying here.”
Matt’s eyes narrow and then open into the look Jensen was dreading most.
“Ghosts. This is about the ghost thing again. I saw the Tivo Jensen. Ghost Hunters? Really? I know you said you didn’t need-“
“I don’t need-“
“To see Dr. Kripke anymore but it’s obvious that you’re still not well enough to go without the therapy. So I’m going to call him and we’re going to get you guys meeting on a regular basis again. In the meantime maybe he can call in about upping your meds until-“
“Matt!”
Jensen rarely raises his voice to his boyfriend. It’s never served him well before, because the louder he gets the more reasonable and logical Matt gets. It feeds into itself until the fight is out of control and Jensen seems like a child screaming at his parents as they look down on him from above.
The good part about it is before that happens it gets Matt’s attention, and Jensen takes a deep breath and steels himself so that he sounds logical when he responds.
“Matt, I’m not taking the meds. They make me a zombie, a thing you’d know if you were ever around, and I don’t like that. I don’t like not functioning. As long as I’m not trying to drive or do something that freaks me out I’m fine. So no meds. And no Kripke. You might not believe this is happening, but it is. This house Matt. This house is dangerous, and it’s been that way for a long time. I know we’ll take a hit. I know. But the settlement will cover that. Wouldn’t like you like some modern, straight-edged place right down the street from your firm? You can go to bars with your colleagues without a long drive. You can get delivery of any food you want. It’s your paradise.”
His boyfriend stares at him for what seems an unreasonably long time, hands lax beside his silverware, before he stands and pushes his chair back.
“Jensen. I’m only going to say this once. You wanted this place. You begged and wheedled for it and I gave in. We sunk our money into it, we moved everything out here, and I agreed to make that long and slow commute every day just so you could bring Chris and Aldis out here to turn your former career into a hobby. You can’t just-“
“It’s not your money!” It’s a roar, and Jensen regrets it instantly. The look of triumph on Matt’s face says it all.
“No, you’re right; my firm got it for you after the accident. It’s your money. I’m sorry I thought our funds were one since we’re in a committed relationship. But by all means, bankrupt yourself selling the house. But know that you’re doing it illogically, and that your legal counsel is advising against it.”
With that Matt moves out of the room smoothly and gracefully, and Jensen is left to reply to an empty room.
“You’re not my legal counsel you’re my boyfriend.”
----
Jensen’s pissed, he’s had one too many beers, and he’s pretty sure he’s sleeping alone tonight. Matt’s door is closed and soft music plays beyond it. He thinks he can hear Matt’s fingers flying over his keyboard, but whether Matt is on the internet enjoying himself or working to make himself grumpier is a complete unknown.
And Jensen isn’t sticking his head in to find out.
He makes his way up the stairs, noting a spot that needs sanding down soon, and then on the second landing Jensen hears the giggle.
Whirling around, hand losing its grip on the wood, Jensen sees the little girl standing in the bathroom doorway with her fingers pressed to her rosebud mouth, and then the world goes sideways as his bad leg gives and he falls backwards. Everything is in slow motion as Jensen begins to fall, and he can picture the whole thing in his head. He’s going to bounce on the steps, hard wood snapping limbs and neck for the fall, and when he hits the bottom he will be a crumpled pile of man.
Matt will come out in the morning to find Jensen, maybe trip over him on his way up to use the shower, or maybe out of the corner of his eye when he’s getting coffee, and he’ll feel guilt and release. It will simultaneously be the best and worst thing that ever happened to him. Jensen wonders briefly if Matt will check into that foundation lie to see if it is a lawsuit.
And then, just as Jensen feels the brush of the step with the back of his head his arms pull practically out of their sockets and his body jerks to a stop. He opens his eyes to see a man and woman standing over him, each holding one of his hands. The man’s eyes are dark, he’s in the process of growing an impressive beard, his clothes look like something out of a period piece, and his salt and pepper hair is slicked back. The woman beside him is pretty, dark blonde hair falling around her face and brown eyes warm and soft. She’s in a pantsuit, sharply cut and tailored to fit her exactly, shoulder pads obvious beneath the material.
“That was close!” The woman sounds both impressed and relieved.
“Steady boy, you almost took a tumble there.”
Jensen loses consciousness to the sound of his rumbling voice.
-----
Jensen wakes up on the hard wood floor, shoulders aching and Matt peering into his eyes. They stare at each other until Jensen can croak out a phrase.
“Am I dead?”
Matt’s pale, hands shaking, and he tilts Jensen’s head back and forth before shaking his own.
“Jesus Jen, God, I really thought.” Matt trails off, doesn’t have to finish the sentence, and then carefully helps Jensen up.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“What happened? Did your leg give out? Did you have another spell?”
Jensen bites back the instant response that fainting spells are for little old ladies and Southern Belles.
“Leg gave out.” Jensen doesn’t mention the little girl, or the two people that caught him. He doesn’t mention that they saved his life or that now he owes the ghosts in his home a favor. Instead he lets Matt help him to the bathroom and then to bed. A stunningly familiar action, and one that they’ve perfected over the course of his rehabilitation.
Matt slips into the bed beside him, hand reaching out and finding Jensen’s with flawless accuracy. It’s comfortable, familiar, and Jensen’s pulse is steady as he grips back and holds on.
It seems like forever ago that he met Matt, just another student in the library desperately cramming for finals and hoping that this wouldn’t be the time that waiting to the last second was a death knell. Matt had been so cute, buried under a stack of books and rubbing ceaselessly at his eyes. Jensen had still worn glasses then, and he was only a semester away from finishing his degree and starting a business with his two best friends.
The whole world had been in front of them then, and they were the kings who would conquer it. There was never any question really, and their first date only assured Jensen that this would be forever.
Now they barely speak, locked in a house neither of them really wants to live in and unsure how to even properly describe the depths of their stagnant rage.
But they still have this. They can still hold on if they try. Whether or not they should is probably up for debate, God knows Chris and Aldis think so, but Jensen doesn’t need that tonight. Tonight he needs a familiar hand holding his and the sound of Matt’s breaths evening out next to him as his partner slips into sleep.
----
In the morning Jensen wakes up to Matt’s terrible attempt at breakfast, and they sit in the dining room and enjoy a meal together. When he asks Matt why he isn’t dressed yet his partner responds with a simple, “I thought I’d stick around today. Maybe I can lend a hand somewhere.”
Jensen thinks about it for a second before nodding.
“I’m putting down the second coat of varnish in the ballroom. It smells awful, but you get used to it.”
Matt nods and then stretches out his arms.
“I think I can handle that. Let’s try it.”
Jensen goes over the process with him, stresses the importance of putting down smooth and even coats over the base coat, and then let’s Matt go on his own. They work in companionable silence for a bit until Jensen tries to start conversation.
“How’s the Matheson case going?”
Matt laughs and dips his long-handled brush.
“Over. We took those assholes to the cleaners. I’ve never understood how insurance companies think they can just deny every claim under the sun and no one’s going to put up a fuss.”
Jensen rubs the back of his neck and thinks of when the accident first happened and he considered not doing anything. Just taking the offer and walking away. Matt’s not talking about that, but it’s an association that can’t be helped.
“Hey, I didn’t mean-“
“I know. It’s ok. You were right then and you’re right now.”
Matt shifts awkwardly before leaning the handle of the brush against the wall and crossing the floor to Jensen’s side. His hand lands warm and heavy on Jensen’s shoulder.
“Jensen. I won’t ever know what it was like. I’m sorry. But what happened…it was terrible and it wasn’t your fault. And getting compensation for it wasn’t a crime. The insurance company paid not the kid’s family.”
He wants to shake the hand off. It’s supposed to be helpful. He’s heard it so many times from Matt, from his friends, from Kripke, but it’s not. It never is. Because no matter how many times they tell him, no matter how objectively true it is, Jensen knows what the real ending to his story is. They can’t understand because Jensen has never told anyone, and he plans to keep it that way.
It takes a concentrated effort to accept the comfort, to remember that it’s being offered because Matt cares about him still, after all this time. After everything they’ve been through, and how far they’ve drifted apart.
One shaky hand reaches up and takes Matt’s, and they stand there staring at each other until Jensen can even get up the strength to clear his throat and respond.
“Matt. I know things have been…bad, and I’ve probably never said this before but you’ve done the best you can with a bad situation. This wasn’t where we pictured ourselves at this point, and you’ve worked so hard to get me through this. I know you’ve given up a lot, and thank you.”
His partner’s smile lights up, the smile Jensen first saw when he asked Matt to dinner that day so long ago, and Jensen smiles honestly in return. He leans in and kisses Matt once, tasting that now foreign happiness, and then pulls back and runs a finger along one soft lip.
They spend the rest of the day working together, talking, and it’s good. It’s light and easy, and just like old times. They don’t make love, but they haven’t done that since the accident. It doesn’t matter. The togetherness, the solidarity that Jensen has been missing is resurrected.
Except to Jensen, the kiss almost felt like goodbye.
----
He’s alone, Matt’s at work and Chris and Aldis are on a job, and Jensen still hasn’t asked Jared which house he’s in. As far as he can tell his neighbor shows up any time Jensen really focuses on him, so Jensen lets it go and waits for Jared to come around.
In the mean time he’s got work to do, because if he’s going to ever get out of this place it’s going to have to be in better condition. Jensen’s in the foyer, tacking up replacement molding for a section that was damaged and mentally matching the stain on the original pieces to the catalogue of varnish he has outside in the shed.
The steps are loud on the wood floor, heels ringing strong and sure on the boards, and Jensen finds himself frozen in place with the hammer in his hand. He considers staying right here, finishing his work, and just pretending it’s not happening. But the ghosts saved him, and it might be one of them.
It doesn’t escape him that he’s only met three of the potential specters in Oak Tree, and there’s no promise that the rest are as innocent and harmless as those he’s already encountered. Jensen gets up slowly, hammer hanging loosely in one hand and eyes focused on the archway between the foyer and the formal living room.
He can’t see anything from this angle, but he’s granted the ability to peek inside the opening and look to see if there’s anyone there. And sure as shit, there’s the guy that saved his life pacing up and down the floorboards and staring morosely into the grand fireplace.
Jensen puts the hammer down completely and steps out into the main floor. He’s not sure if his pulse is racing because he’s excited or because he’s terrified. It could honestly be both. What he does know in this moment is that he’s about to talk to a ghost, a ghost that saved his life, and that’s kind of something right?
“Hey.”
It’s not the most intelligent starter, but hey, it’s traditional and this ghost looks pretty old.
The man turns, eyes sweeping over Jensen momentarily before focusing. And Jensen knows instantaneously that something is wrong.
“What are you doing here? Are you trespassing?”
Jensen blinks, once, twice, and then realizes what exactly the ghost is asking.
“No. No this is- do you not remember me? You saved my life. Like three days ago.”
The ghost tilts his head and then crosses the floor and grabs Jensen’s shirt.
“Where is my wife? Did you take her? Give me my wife back!”
He’s roaring, inches from Jensen’s face, and his hands are cold and solid on Jensen’s shirt as the ghost lifts him just a bit from the floor. Jensen can’t find words, mouth dry and heart racing, and then suddenly Jared is there.
“Stop! Stop right now and let him go!”
And to Jensen’s immense surprise the ghost does. Jared moves in between them, and Jensen has to lean slightly to see properly. The ghost looks unsure, eyes moving around the room again before he focuses on the two living people in the room.
He looks…abashed. Like a drunk that’s just realized they’ve crossed the line from funny to obnoxious. He rubs his face once, an apology clear in his expression, and then he disappears.
And then Jensen is against the wall with his legs trembling and threatening to give way and Jared is holding him up by his shoulders and looking him over as he talks a mile a minute.
“Did he hurt you? Did he scare you? Are you ok? Do you need to sit down? Do you need some water? I can get you some water. Sit down and I’ll get you some water. Do you want to sit in another room? He won’t come back, but you can move rooms. I bet you don’t want to be in here. Let’s move you to the kitchen and I’ll get you some water.”
Jensen is pretty sure the only reason Jared stops for breath is because Jensen holds a hand up to stop him.
“Jared. I can’t. Did you just. What happened?”
His neighbor blushes, and then a strong arm slips around his shoulders and he’s being led to his kitchen and maneuvered into a chair. Jensen lets himself be manhandled, not an easy task, and then a glass of water is shoved into his hands before Jared takes the chair across from him and hooks his feet into the rungs like a little kid instead of a giant man.
“That was one of the ghosts. Morgan I think. Are you ok, Jensen?”
He wants to say no. Wants to tell Jared that he’s so far from ok it’s not even funny. Because what the fuck has his life become that he has random encounters with ghosts? Where is he at that the same ghost that keeps him from cracking his skull in one day is the one that terrifies him the next? Fuck Casper these things are apparently schizophrenic and Jensen has enough of his own mental issues he can’t add the deceased’s onto his plate.
Apparently he’s said most if not all of this aloud, because Jared stares at him for several moments with his mouth open before reaching out and rubbing Jensen’s shoulder.
“You don’t seem crazy to me.”
It was the last thing he expected.
“Yeah, well, appearances are deceiving and you think it’s perfectly normal to talk about ghosts. Or walk in on one attacking someone.”
Jared looks shocked and then the shock morphs into a rushed concern.
“No, wait, Jensen that wasn’t what he- you said he saved you the other day?”
“Yeah. I almost fell down the stairs and he and this woman in a suit caught me.”
Jared nods eagerly and then leans into Jensen’s space, second hand joining the first on Jensen’s opposite shoulder and squeezing earnestly.
“That’s. Ok, so, my grandma used to be real into this stuff and she told me that sometimes ghosts get confused. That it’s hard for them to remember sometimes that they’re dead, or that time has passed. So that first time, when he saved you? That was the real guy. This was just him being confused and not knowing where or when he was. I bet he feels really bad about it, man. I bet he’s gonna beat himself up.”
Jensen’s mouth moves with no sound, and then surprised and creaky laughter escapes him.
“You’re saying a ghost is gonna feel guilty for properly haunting me?”
Something dark and sad crosses Jared’s face before it’s replaced by a tentative smile.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m saying that if he already established that he doesn’t want you hurt it doesn’t make any sense for him to try to actively hurt you now, does it?”
And no. It doesn’t. It’s crazy person logic, but Jensen lives in crazy land now. He’s got to adapt.
“So what do I do? It’s not exactly safe to live with dead things that occasionally think I’m the enemy.”
Jared shifts in his chair, hands still on Jensen’s shoulders, and then he seems to steel himself for something.
“Tell them no. Be firm. Just like I was a minute ago. They’ll listen I promise.”
“Jared? Have you met these ghosts before?”
“I’ve…I’ve talked with previous owners and I…yeah. Once or twice.”
“The first time we met why didn’t you say something then? Why didn’t you tell me everything?”
Jared blushes, eyes finally moving away from Jensen’s face and hands slipping off Jensen’s shoulders. He feels oddly bereft without them weighing him down.
“I. It was selfish Jensen I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to leave.”
“Didn’t want me to- dude how hard up are you for friends that you lied to keep a strange neighbor?”
He feels bad the second he asks it. Jared looks ashamed, eyes down and head ducked, a scolded little boy. Jensen wants to take it back but it’s too late.
“I can’t- I’m not good at getting out much. There’s not a lot of opportunity.”
And Jensen can understand that. He lives it. His hand shoots out and catches one of Jared’s big ones, feels the cool skin and rubs it with his thumb.
“I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m not really great at this either.”
Jared looks up then, smile breaking out and dimples showing up, and Jensen thinks that maybe he lucked out on one thing with this move.
“Jared, if I order pizza you want to hang out for a bit? No working just watching movies or something?”
“Yeah. Yeah Jensen I’d really like that.”
The pizza ends up being delicious, Jared is excellent company, and Jensen relaxes into the couch beside his neighbor, his friend, and enjoys casual shoving and laughter as movies roll in the background.
----
Jensen is locked in place, facing a terror so great that there are no words for it. He closes his eyes and counts down before calling out loudly and crossing his fingers that his plaintive cries for help will reach Matt.
“Matt? Matt? The toilet paper is out!”
He wasn’t the last one to use the bathroom, and there’s no guilt involved whatsoever in dragging his partner into his problem since it is entirely Matt’s fault.
The door cracks open, and Jensen looks up expecting one thing and getting another entirely. The hand extended through the door is foreign to him, white, slim, and male but not Matt’s. The voice that comes with it is certainly not his boyfriend’s.
“Here you go man.”
Jensen sits dumbstruck, hands flat on his thighs and mouth open, and the roll of paper wiggles just within his reach.
“Dude. Are you gonna make me come in there? You can reach this. Grab it.”
“Wh-who are you?” His voice cracks halfway through the first word, and Jensen realizes just how vulnerable he is in his current position. Again he thinks that this is not what he signed up for.
“Chad Lindberg. Pleased ta’ meetcha man, now can you take this? I got eternity but you don’t.”
Jensen reaches out slowly, takes the roll, and the hand disappears from view before the door closes. When he’s done and washed up he stands with his hand on the knob for a full minute before he gets up the courage to open the door.
What waits for him on the other side is not what he’s prepared for at all.
The guy is slim, sandy blonde hair cut in a mullet, grey-blue eyes a little big for his face, and a sleeveless Dokken tee hanging off his gangly frame. Jensen swallows hard and looks up and down the hall hoping that maybe Jared will mysteriously appear again.
When he doesn’t Jensen focuses on his latest apparition.
“Thanks. For the toilet paper.”
The ghost, Chad, makes a noise and smiles easy and free before holding out a hand. When Jensen goes to shake it Chad instead slaps palms with him and then leans back into the wall crossing his arms over his chest.
“No problem, dude. No problem at all. Man I remember running outta toilet paper. Worst thing in the damn world right? Ain’t nothing like finding a back up roll and knowing you ain’t gonna have to beg someone to help or try to get rid of the skids later.”
All at once the name hits Jensen, and even as his head is nodding in commiseration for the crudely put thought his finger is coming up in an accusatory point.
“You’re the guy that hung himself.”
Chad smiles at that, all easy-going charm, and nods as the long part of his mullet dips and swings around his ears.
“Am indeed dude, and good call! Hey, listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. You know, in return for the TP save?”
Jensen shores himself for something incredibly terrible.
“Do you need- should I contact someone for you or is it something- you can’t possess me.”
Chad stares at him and then bursts out laughing, half bent over and clutching his stomach. Jensen takes the laughter fairly good-naturedly. When the ghost is finally done he wipes at his eyes and then shakes his head.
“Nah man, nothing like that. I’m not into dudes, no offense you know, not my bag. I was wondering if you could buy some Pabst? It’s been an awful long time since I had any, no Pulsers with any taste round here, and I’m dying for some good brew.”
“You think Pabst is a good beer?”
Chad looks at him like he’s the crazy one.
----
Jared’s laughing. Jensen’s not sure is Jared’s laughing at him, or for him, or some combination but he’s starting to get used to the feeling that nothing will ever be in his control again.
“So did you buy any?”
He shifts uncomfortably and rubs the back of his neck.
“Well, yeah, I mean it was the least I can do. The guy is dead and he helped me out when I needed it.”
Jared nods sagely, and then bursts into laughter again.
“It’s not that funny.”
Jared’s laughter goes up a notch.
“No seriously it’s not. Jared. It’s not that funny.”
Except. Maybe it sort of is. That or Jared’s laughter is contagious because eventually Jensen finds himself laughing too.
Masterpost
Next Part
Previous Part
Grey bones
I don't know
If I'll ever be whole again
Chris and Aldis are back the next day, and the three of them take up residency in the ballroom since Matt is home and this is still top secret. It doesn’t really matter where they go, because Matt doesn’t necessarily get along with Aldis and Chris too well, but they move as far out of his way as possible.
“So we found out a whole bunch of shit. All told there’s been over thirty deaths in this house starting with the original owner Jeffrey-“
“Dean Morgan. His wife buried him. Jared told me some of this. Over thirty? How many over thirty?”
“Not sure. But the-” Aldis is talking, which means Chris is stewing over something and that never ends well for Jensen.
“What do you mean not sure? Like the records were faulty or you just lost count and forgot to take notes?”
Aldis is shaking his head as Chris flips through papers and documents.
“Like, not sure as in six people went missing and are presumed dead, but it was never proven they died in the house. They just disappeared. And the deaths Jensen. They’re all weird. Suicides, young heart attacks, drowning in bathtubs, murder suicides. And falls. Three falls from the top floor. One down the stairs. That one was a little girl in 1890.”
He holds out shaking hands and Chris gives him the photocopies of the news articles and death notices they collected. The sheaf is thick and heavy, and hangs in hands as a condemnation of his decision to stay. To weather out the storm of the paranormal in the interest of keeping his macho defined territory.
Jensen flips through noting names and dates. There doesn’t appear to be a particular pattern for the deaths. Random acts of violence and accidents are mixed up with genders and ages, and Jensen’s barely able to put the papers down in one neat stack when he’s done.
This is a house of death. Jared’s promise from the day before rings hollow in the face of so much damning evidence.
“Jen, you ever get those blueprints?”
Chris looks solemn, serious, and Jensen realizes he completely forgot about the damn blueprints.
“Yeah. They got here last week, but I haven’t looked at them yet. Why?”
“I think you got more house than you planned. I think you got something else you don’t know you bought.”
Jensen lifts an eyebrow, and Chris stands instead of answering. They file out after Chris like children in line, down the steep stairs that Jensen is starting to see differently and out the back door. Chris heads for the copse of trees, a man on a mission, and Jensen feels a cold sweat break out as they reach the edge of them and step into the shady area. He hasn’t really looked around the yard at all. It hasn’t been warm enough to really worry about upkeep, and gardening wasn’t the highest on his list of improvements.
They make their way through several feet of thick pine, and then the trunks stop and there’s a clearing.
A cemetery.
He can’t speak, can’t move, and Aldis sucks in a breath beside him and shakes his head.
“Holy shit you were right. Worst realtor ever.”
Chris nods seriously and crouches beside the crumbling little stone marker closest to them.
“Jeff something. Must be the first owner” He looks to the next one. “Name’s worn smooth on this one.”
The next stone has been destroyed, and Chris skips it. Jumps a ways down the line.
“Chad Lindberg, 1982. Samantha Ferris, 1990.”
Jensen doesn’t need him to read anymore, and he waves Chris off as he sits heavily in the line of trees. He doesn’t cross onto the actual burial ground. Doesn’t need to. He lives in it.
“Why would the families agree to let their loved ones be buried here instead of in a regular cemetery with them? This isn’t a family plot.”
Chris’s head is tilted as he considers the stones, but Aldis offers up an answer.
“Shame? Anger? The Chad guy hung himself in the front hallway, and Samantha killed her boyfriend and then herself.”
Jensen’s eyes scan the headstones. There are about twenty in total, and he wonders how many of them are unreadable. How many met the haunting in the house and insisted on staying. If there’s space for Matt and himself.
“I’ve gotta move. If I don’t move then I’ll be one of these markers. I’ve gotta sell the house and move.”
Aldis looks troubled, but Chris nods his head seriously and holds out a roughened hand to help Jensen up.
“I want to borrow those blueprints Jen.”
----
“You want to what?”
They’re eating dinner in the dining room, much nicer now that it is full of the light and airy colors that Jensen picked to make it look more inviting and open. The irony that he brightened up the room he and Matt fight in the most is not lost on him.
“Move. This house is too much Matt. There’s structural damage in more places than we thought, and no amount of cosmetic changes will cover that. It’ll cost a fortune to fix, and that’s after fixing the foundation.”
Matt lifts an eyebrow and puts his fork down carefully, and that’s how Jensen knows that this is about to be a really ugly fight.
“The foundation, Jensen?”
“The foundation.” It doesn’t matter what he says. Matt knows nothing about home construction and has never listened to the number of lectures Jensen has given him on the subject. “That’s what makes it groan like that. Also why the floor isn’t level. The ground is a clay-based sand with limestone underneath, and the foundation wasn’t put down level on it. The combination of soft soil and soft rock means that sort of irresponsible construction gets worse over time.”
What Jensen isn’t counting on, and he probably should have, is that Matt has never been one to just let go of something.
“And they didn’t catch that in the inspection why?”
Jensen shifts uncomfortably and looks around the room. He doesn’t have a good answer for that and the next step is completely predictable.
“Fine. We’ll file suit and the money will cover the repairs. Can we stay here while they do them?”
“You didn’t even want this house Matt. You wanted a condo downtown. I don’t understand why you’re so set on staying here.”
Matt’s eyes narrow and then open into the look Jensen was dreading most.
“Ghosts. This is about the ghost thing again. I saw the Tivo Jensen. Ghost Hunters? Really? I know you said you didn’t need-“
“I don’t need-“
“To see Dr. Kripke anymore but it’s obvious that you’re still not well enough to go without the therapy. So I’m going to call him and we’re going to get you guys meeting on a regular basis again. In the meantime maybe he can call in about upping your meds until-“
“Matt!”
Jensen rarely raises his voice to his boyfriend. It’s never served him well before, because the louder he gets the more reasonable and logical Matt gets. It feeds into itself until the fight is out of control and Jensen seems like a child screaming at his parents as they look down on him from above.
The good part about it is before that happens it gets Matt’s attention, and Jensen takes a deep breath and steels himself so that he sounds logical when he responds.
“Matt, I’m not taking the meds. They make me a zombie, a thing you’d know if you were ever around, and I don’t like that. I don’t like not functioning. As long as I’m not trying to drive or do something that freaks me out I’m fine. So no meds. And no Kripke. You might not believe this is happening, but it is. This house Matt. This house is dangerous, and it’s been that way for a long time. I know we’ll take a hit. I know. But the settlement will cover that. Wouldn’t like you like some modern, straight-edged place right down the street from your firm? You can go to bars with your colleagues without a long drive. You can get delivery of any food you want. It’s your paradise.”
His boyfriend stares at him for what seems an unreasonably long time, hands lax beside his silverware, before he stands and pushes his chair back.
“Jensen. I’m only going to say this once. You wanted this place. You begged and wheedled for it and I gave in. We sunk our money into it, we moved everything out here, and I agreed to make that long and slow commute every day just so you could bring Chris and Aldis out here to turn your former career into a hobby. You can’t just-“
“It’s not your money!” It’s a roar, and Jensen regrets it instantly. The look of triumph on Matt’s face says it all.
“No, you’re right; my firm got it for you after the accident. It’s your money. I’m sorry I thought our funds were one since we’re in a committed relationship. But by all means, bankrupt yourself selling the house. But know that you’re doing it illogically, and that your legal counsel is advising against it.”
With that Matt moves out of the room smoothly and gracefully, and Jensen is left to reply to an empty room.
“You’re not my legal counsel you’re my boyfriend.”
----
Jensen’s pissed, he’s had one too many beers, and he’s pretty sure he’s sleeping alone tonight. Matt’s door is closed and soft music plays beyond it. He thinks he can hear Matt’s fingers flying over his keyboard, but whether Matt is on the internet enjoying himself or working to make himself grumpier is a complete unknown.
And Jensen isn’t sticking his head in to find out.
He makes his way up the stairs, noting a spot that needs sanding down soon, and then on the second landing Jensen hears the giggle.
Whirling around, hand losing its grip on the wood, Jensen sees the little girl standing in the bathroom doorway with her fingers pressed to her rosebud mouth, and then the world goes sideways as his bad leg gives and he falls backwards. Everything is in slow motion as Jensen begins to fall, and he can picture the whole thing in his head. He’s going to bounce on the steps, hard wood snapping limbs and neck for the fall, and when he hits the bottom he will be a crumpled pile of man.
Matt will come out in the morning to find Jensen, maybe trip over him on his way up to use the shower, or maybe out of the corner of his eye when he’s getting coffee, and he’ll feel guilt and release. It will simultaneously be the best and worst thing that ever happened to him. Jensen wonders briefly if Matt will check into that foundation lie to see if it is a lawsuit.
And then, just as Jensen feels the brush of the step with the back of his head his arms pull practically out of their sockets and his body jerks to a stop. He opens his eyes to see a man and woman standing over him, each holding one of his hands. The man’s eyes are dark, he’s in the process of growing an impressive beard, his clothes look like something out of a period piece, and his salt and pepper hair is slicked back. The woman beside him is pretty, dark blonde hair falling around her face and brown eyes warm and soft. She’s in a pantsuit, sharply cut and tailored to fit her exactly, shoulder pads obvious beneath the material.
“That was close!” The woman sounds both impressed and relieved.
“Steady boy, you almost took a tumble there.”
Jensen loses consciousness to the sound of his rumbling voice.
-----
Jensen wakes up on the hard wood floor, shoulders aching and Matt peering into his eyes. They stare at each other until Jensen can croak out a phrase.
“Am I dead?”
Matt’s pale, hands shaking, and he tilts Jensen’s head back and forth before shaking his own.
“Jesus Jen, God, I really thought.” Matt trails off, doesn’t have to finish the sentence, and then carefully helps Jensen up.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“What happened? Did your leg give out? Did you have another spell?”
Jensen bites back the instant response that fainting spells are for little old ladies and Southern Belles.
“Leg gave out.” Jensen doesn’t mention the little girl, or the two people that caught him. He doesn’t mention that they saved his life or that now he owes the ghosts in his home a favor. Instead he lets Matt help him to the bathroom and then to bed. A stunningly familiar action, and one that they’ve perfected over the course of his rehabilitation.
Matt slips into the bed beside him, hand reaching out and finding Jensen’s with flawless accuracy. It’s comfortable, familiar, and Jensen’s pulse is steady as he grips back and holds on.
It seems like forever ago that he met Matt, just another student in the library desperately cramming for finals and hoping that this wouldn’t be the time that waiting to the last second was a death knell. Matt had been so cute, buried under a stack of books and rubbing ceaselessly at his eyes. Jensen had still worn glasses then, and he was only a semester away from finishing his degree and starting a business with his two best friends.
The whole world had been in front of them then, and they were the kings who would conquer it. There was never any question really, and their first date only assured Jensen that this would be forever.
Now they barely speak, locked in a house neither of them really wants to live in and unsure how to even properly describe the depths of their stagnant rage.
But they still have this. They can still hold on if they try. Whether or not they should is probably up for debate, God knows Chris and Aldis think so, but Jensen doesn’t need that tonight. Tonight he needs a familiar hand holding his and the sound of Matt’s breaths evening out next to him as his partner slips into sleep.
----
In the morning Jensen wakes up to Matt’s terrible attempt at breakfast, and they sit in the dining room and enjoy a meal together. When he asks Matt why he isn’t dressed yet his partner responds with a simple, “I thought I’d stick around today. Maybe I can lend a hand somewhere.”
Jensen thinks about it for a second before nodding.
“I’m putting down the second coat of varnish in the ballroom. It smells awful, but you get used to it.”
Matt nods and then stretches out his arms.
“I think I can handle that. Let’s try it.”
Jensen goes over the process with him, stresses the importance of putting down smooth and even coats over the base coat, and then let’s Matt go on his own. They work in companionable silence for a bit until Jensen tries to start conversation.
“How’s the Matheson case going?”
Matt laughs and dips his long-handled brush.
“Over. We took those assholes to the cleaners. I’ve never understood how insurance companies think they can just deny every claim under the sun and no one’s going to put up a fuss.”
Jensen rubs the back of his neck and thinks of when the accident first happened and he considered not doing anything. Just taking the offer and walking away. Matt’s not talking about that, but it’s an association that can’t be helped.
“Hey, I didn’t mean-“
“I know. It’s ok. You were right then and you’re right now.”
Matt shifts awkwardly before leaning the handle of the brush against the wall and crossing the floor to Jensen’s side. His hand lands warm and heavy on Jensen’s shoulder.
“Jensen. I won’t ever know what it was like. I’m sorry. But what happened…it was terrible and it wasn’t your fault. And getting compensation for it wasn’t a crime. The insurance company paid not the kid’s family.”
He wants to shake the hand off. It’s supposed to be helpful. He’s heard it so many times from Matt, from his friends, from Kripke, but it’s not. It never is. Because no matter how many times they tell him, no matter how objectively true it is, Jensen knows what the real ending to his story is. They can’t understand because Jensen has never told anyone, and he plans to keep it that way.
It takes a concentrated effort to accept the comfort, to remember that it’s being offered because Matt cares about him still, after all this time. After everything they’ve been through, and how far they’ve drifted apart.
One shaky hand reaches up and takes Matt’s, and they stand there staring at each other until Jensen can even get up the strength to clear his throat and respond.
“Matt. I know things have been…bad, and I’ve probably never said this before but you’ve done the best you can with a bad situation. This wasn’t where we pictured ourselves at this point, and you’ve worked so hard to get me through this. I know you’ve given up a lot, and thank you.”
His partner’s smile lights up, the smile Jensen first saw when he asked Matt to dinner that day so long ago, and Jensen smiles honestly in return. He leans in and kisses Matt once, tasting that now foreign happiness, and then pulls back and runs a finger along one soft lip.
They spend the rest of the day working together, talking, and it’s good. It’s light and easy, and just like old times. They don’t make love, but they haven’t done that since the accident. It doesn’t matter. The togetherness, the solidarity that Jensen has been missing is resurrected.
Except to Jensen, the kiss almost felt like goodbye.
----
He’s alone, Matt’s at work and Chris and Aldis are on a job, and Jensen still hasn’t asked Jared which house he’s in. As far as he can tell his neighbor shows up any time Jensen really focuses on him, so Jensen lets it go and waits for Jared to come around.
In the mean time he’s got work to do, because if he’s going to ever get out of this place it’s going to have to be in better condition. Jensen’s in the foyer, tacking up replacement molding for a section that was damaged and mentally matching the stain on the original pieces to the catalogue of varnish he has outside in the shed.
The steps are loud on the wood floor, heels ringing strong and sure on the boards, and Jensen finds himself frozen in place with the hammer in his hand. He considers staying right here, finishing his work, and just pretending it’s not happening. But the ghosts saved him, and it might be one of them.
It doesn’t escape him that he’s only met three of the potential specters in Oak Tree, and there’s no promise that the rest are as innocent and harmless as those he’s already encountered. Jensen gets up slowly, hammer hanging loosely in one hand and eyes focused on the archway between the foyer and the formal living room.
He can’t see anything from this angle, but he’s granted the ability to peek inside the opening and look to see if there’s anyone there. And sure as shit, there’s the guy that saved his life pacing up and down the floorboards and staring morosely into the grand fireplace.
Jensen puts the hammer down completely and steps out into the main floor. He’s not sure if his pulse is racing because he’s excited or because he’s terrified. It could honestly be both. What he does know in this moment is that he’s about to talk to a ghost, a ghost that saved his life, and that’s kind of something right?
“Hey.”
It’s not the most intelligent starter, but hey, it’s traditional and this ghost looks pretty old.
The man turns, eyes sweeping over Jensen momentarily before focusing. And Jensen knows instantaneously that something is wrong.
“What are you doing here? Are you trespassing?”
Jensen blinks, once, twice, and then realizes what exactly the ghost is asking.
“No. No this is- do you not remember me? You saved my life. Like three days ago.”
The ghost tilts his head and then crosses the floor and grabs Jensen’s shirt.
“Where is my wife? Did you take her? Give me my wife back!”
He’s roaring, inches from Jensen’s face, and his hands are cold and solid on Jensen’s shirt as the ghost lifts him just a bit from the floor. Jensen can’t find words, mouth dry and heart racing, and then suddenly Jared is there.
“Stop! Stop right now and let him go!”
And to Jensen’s immense surprise the ghost does. Jared moves in between them, and Jensen has to lean slightly to see properly. The ghost looks unsure, eyes moving around the room again before he focuses on the two living people in the room.
He looks…abashed. Like a drunk that’s just realized they’ve crossed the line from funny to obnoxious. He rubs his face once, an apology clear in his expression, and then he disappears.
And then Jensen is against the wall with his legs trembling and threatening to give way and Jared is holding him up by his shoulders and looking him over as he talks a mile a minute.
“Did he hurt you? Did he scare you? Are you ok? Do you need to sit down? Do you need some water? I can get you some water. Sit down and I’ll get you some water. Do you want to sit in another room? He won’t come back, but you can move rooms. I bet you don’t want to be in here. Let’s move you to the kitchen and I’ll get you some water.”
Jensen is pretty sure the only reason Jared stops for breath is because Jensen holds a hand up to stop him.
“Jared. I can’t. Did you just. What happened?”
His neighbor blushes, and then a strong arm slips around his shoulders and he’s being led to his kitchen and maneuvered into a chair. Jensen lets himself be manhandled, not an easy task, and then a glass of water is shoved into his hands before Jared takes the chair across from him and hooks his feet into the rungs like a little kid instead of a giant man.
“That was one of the ghosts. Morgan I think. Are you ok, Jensen?”
He wants to say no. Wants to tell Jared that he’s so far from ok it’s not even funny. Because what the fuck has his life become that he has random encounters with ghosts? Where is he at that the same ghost that keeps him from cracking his skull in one day is the one that terrifies him the next? Fuck Casper these things are apparently schizophrenic and Jensen has enough of his own mental issues he can’t add the deceased’s onto his plate.
Apparently he’s said most if not all of this aloud, because Jared stares at him for several moments with his mouth open before reaching out and rubbing Jensen’s shoulder.
“You don’t seem crazy to me.”
It was the last thing he expected.
“Yeah, well, appearances are deceiving and you think it’s perfectly normal to talk about ghosts. Or walk in on one attacking someone.”
Jared looks shocked and then the shock morphs into a rushed concern.
“No, wait, Jensen that wasn’t what he- you said he saved you the other day?”
“Yeah. I almost fell down the stairs and he and this woman in a suit caught me.”
Jared nods eagerly and then leans into Jensen’s space, second hand joining the first on Jensen’s opposite shoulder and squeezing earnestly.
“That’s. Ok, so, my grandma used to be real into this stuff and she told me that sometimes ghosts get confused. That it’s hard for them to remember sometimes that they’re dead, or that time has passed. So that first time, when he saved you? That was the real guy. This was just him being confused and not knowing where or when he was. I bet he feels really bad about it, man. I bet he’s gonna beat himself up.”
Jensen’s mouth moves with no sound, and then surprised and creaky laughter escapes him.
“You’re saying a ghost is gonna feel guilty for properly haunting me?”
Something dark and sad crosses Jared’s face before it’s replaced by a tentative smile.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m saying that if he already established that he doesn’t want you hurt it doesn’t make any sense for him to try to actively hurt you now, does it?”
And no. It doesn’t. It’s crazy person logic, but Jensen lives in crazy land now. He’s got to adapt.
“So what do I do? It’s not exactly safe to live with dead things that occasionally think I’m the enemy.”
Jared shifts in his chair, hands still on Jensen’s shoulders, and then he seems to steel himself for something.
“Tell them no. Be firm. Just like I was a minute ago. They’ll listen I promise.”
“Jared? Have you met these ghosts before?”
“I’ve…I’ve talked with previous owners and I…yeah. Once or twice.”
“The first time we met why didn’t you say something then? Why didn’t you tell me everything?”
Jared blushes, eyes finally moving away from Jensen’s face and hands slipping off Jensen’s shoulders. He feels oddly bereft without them weighing him down.
“I. It was selfish Jensen I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to leave.”
“Didn’t want me to- dude how hard up are you for friends that you lied to keep a strange neighbor?”
He feels bad the second he asks it. Jared looks ashamed, eyes down and head ducked, a scolded little boy. Jensen wants to take it back but it’s too late.
“I can’t- I’m not good at getting out much. There’s not a lot of opportunity.”
And Jensen can understand that. He lives it. His hand shoots out and catches one of Jared’s big ones, feels the cool skin and rubs it with his thumb.
“I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m not really great at this either.”
Jared looks up then, smile breaking out and dimples showing up, and Jensen thinks that maybe he lucked out on one thing with this move.
“Jared, if I order pizza you want to hang out for a bit? No working just watching movies or something?”
“Yeah. Yeah Jensen I’d really like that.”
The pizza ends up being delicious, Jared is excellent company, and Jensen relaxes into the couch beside his neighbor, his friend, and enjoys casual shoving and laughter as movies roll in the background.
----
Jensen is locked in place, facing a terror so great that there are no words for it. He closes his eyes and counts down before calling out loudly and crossing his fingers that his plaintive cries for help will reach Matt.
“Matt? Matt? The toilet paper is out!”
He wasn’t the last one to use the bathroom, and there’s no guilt involved whatsoever in dragging his partner into his problem since it is entirely Matt’s fault.
The door cracks open, and Jensen looks up expecting one thing and getting another entirely. The hand extended through the door is foreign to him, white, slim, and male but not Matt’s. The voice that comes with it is certainly not his boyfriend’s.
“Here you go man.”
Jensen sits dumbstruck, hands flat on his thighs and mouth open, and the roll of paper wiggles just within his reach.
“Dude. Are you gonna make me come in there? You can reach this. Grab it.”
“Wh-who are you?” His voice cracks halfway through the first word, and Jensen realizes just how vulnerable he is in his current position. Again he thinks that this is not what he signed up for.
“Chad Lindberg. Pleased ta’ meetcha man, now can you take this? I got eternity but you don’t.”
Jensen reaches out slowly, takes the roll, and the hand disappears from view before the door closes. When he’s done and washed up he stands with his hand on the knob for a full minute before he gets up the courage to open the door.
What waits for him on the other side is not what he’s prepared for at all.
The guy is slim, sandy blonde hair cut in a mullet, grey-blue eyes a little big for his face, and a sleeveless Dokken tee hanging off his gangly frame. Jensen swallows hard and looks up and down the hall hoping that maybe Jared will mysteriously appear again.
When he doesn’t Jensen focuses on his latest apparition.
“Thanks. For the toilet paper.”
The ghost, Chad, makes a noise and smiles easy and free before holding out a hand. When Jensen goes to shake it Chad instead slaps palms with him and then leans back into the wall crossing his arms over his chest.
“No problem, dude. No problem at all. Man I remember running outta toilet paper. Worst thing in the damn world right? Ain’t nothing like finding a back up roll and knowing you ain’t gonna have to beg someone to help or try to get rid of the skids later.”
All at once the name hits Jensen, and even as his head is nodding in commiseration for the crudely put thought his finger is coming up in an accusatory point.
“You’re the guy that hung himself.”
Chad smiles at that, all easy-going charm, and nods as the long part of his mullet dips and swings around his ears.
“Am indeed dude, and good call! Hey, listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. You know, in return for the TP save?”
Jensen shores himself for something incredibly terrible.
“Do you need- should I contact someone for you or is it something- you can’t possess me.”
Chad stares at him and then bursts out laughing, half bent over and clutching his stomach. Jensen takes the laughter fairly good-naturedly. When the ghost is finally done he wipes at his eyes and then shakes his head.
“Nah man, nothing like that. I’m not into dudes, no offense you know, not my bag. I was wondering if you could buy some Pabst? It’s been an awful long time since I had any, no Pulsers with any taste round here, and I’m dying for some good brew.”
“You think Pabst is a good beer?”
Chad looks at him like he’s the crazy one.
----
Jared’s laughing. Jensen’s not sure is Jared’s laughing at him, or for him, or some combination but he’s starting to get used to the feeling that nothing will ever be in his control again.
“So did you buy any?”
He shifts uncomfortably and rubs the back of his neck.
“Well, yeah, I mean it was the least I can do. The guy is dead and he helped me out when I needed it.”
Jared nods sagely, and then bursts into laughter again.
“It’s not that funny.”
Jared’s laughter goes up a notch.
“No seriously it’s not. Jared. It’s not that funny.”
Except. Maybe it sort of is. That or Jared’s laughter is contagious because eventually Jensen finds himself laughing too.
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Date: 2014-07-27 11:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-28 08:46 pm (UTC)This scene may be the best thing I've ever done to be honest.