Desperate Times (48/50)
Feb. 1st, 2009 08:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hemrageChapter 47 here.
Title: Desperate Times (48/50)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/OMCs, AU, Non-con, Dub-con, MPREG
A/N: Cast of this story available here.
Additional Warnings For This and Upcoming Chapters for those that want them – Reading these may, in my opinion, spoil your enjoyment of the story: (Highlight to read) Extreme medical practices, acts of terrorism, violence - murder and CHARACTER DEATH (I only kill original characters.) Oh, and I believe in happy endings!
A/N2: Okay, so after this there are two chapters left… I may take a break before starting to post Desperate Measures because I have other writing commitments (including, to my horror, BigBang) … but that depends, completely, on whether I can resist the pull of what I have planned for that story. Damn … you know how you guys sometimes hate me, sometimes feel I’m being mean and evil? Well … ummm … I’ve a feeling that won’t be changing when I start posting the sequel … though, on the other hand, I may just surprise you.
Sam pulled up in front of the cabin that was his occasional home. He’d been trying to work out how he was going to break his news for the last couple of hours and decided a direct approach was probably his best option. Jared would no doubt freak the hell out when, if, he find out why, but the others didn’t really need to know the details. They just had to accept that they needed to leave as soon as possible. He could give them a day or two to pack up what was too important to leave behind, but that would be it as far as the leeway went. He wanted, needed them out of here for his own peace of mind, if nothing else.
Before he’d even entered the cabin he knew it was empty. There was no smoke coming from the chimney. Both the fire and the stove had been allowed to go out, though, when he stepped into the cabin and approached the cast iron monstrosity that had become Donna Ackles’ slave there was enough residual heat to indicate it had only recently died.
It was a notorious bitch to get to ignite and he wasn’t volunteering for the task. He wondered whether they should even go through the bother of trying.
Stepping back out onto the porch he could see signs of life in both of the other cabins, but it didn’t take a genius to guess which one he had to head for. Jensen’s mother rarely left the warmth of the kitchen, and she’d have been cooking a mess of lunch for everyone on a normal day. Alan and Joe could be anywhere, but Jared? Jared would be wherever Jensen was - unless he was with Trey.
Jensen wasn’t with Trey.
With dread unfurling in his gut he concluded that Jensen was probably with Jeff. Jensen and everyone else, which could mean one of two things – a party or child birth.
He knew which one he would put his money on.
As he skirted the second cabin, trying to work out who, if anyone, would still be inside, he attempted to convince himself that Jensen delivering early wasn’t a problem. He didn’t believe it.
Jumping up onto the porch and opening the door his eyes were immediately drawn to the large wooden table that sat near the kitchen counter – a replication of the ones in both other cabins – but it was deserted. Moving deeper into the large open space he noticed Jared sitting, silently, on Jeff’s sofa, head resting in hands that he probably didn’t even realize were covered in blood, dried on his fingers, blackened under his nails. He didn’t look up when Sam entered, didn’t acknowledge that he was no longer alone.
Probably didn’t know.
Sam began constructing a wall of ice round his heart, imagining the worst.
The worst …?
Losing Sarah had been the worst. Losing Sarah. Why was it then that the very thought of losing Jensen was just as agonizing?
Steeling himself he approached Jared, placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently. “Jared.”
When Jared looked up Sam was grateful to see that the tears were dry, though the evidence on his face suggested that their cessation was a very recent event.
Jared didn’t say anything, didn’t question Sam’s presence, didn’t volunteer any information. He blinked, once, twice. Sam had to break the silence. “What’s happened?” His voice was calm, strong, demanding.
Jared swallowed, turned to look at the fire, still glowing, still giving off heat, before he spoke. “Jeff had to deliver Jensen’s children today.”
Sam knew that, didn’t need it spelling out for him, but he reigned in his impatience. It had the danger of morphing into anger and that was going to be counterproductive. “I take it something went wrong?” He continued to suppress the emotion that was waging a war inside, keep it from creeping into his voice.
He held his breath as he waited for confirmation.
Jared nodded.
Sam needed more than that, no matter that he dreaded hearing the words. He needed to know if Jensen was still with them, whether the babies were lost.
“Tell me.”
Jared tensed. He spoke when he found his words. “Jeff. Jeff found something he wasn’t expecting. It made things more … difficult.”
Sam was going to start swinging if Jared didn’t tell him what he needed to know right now. “What about Jensen?”
“Sleeping.”
The ice, which had been piss poor at doing the job he’d employed it for, began to thaw.
Jensen was alive. He could – would - cope with the rest.
The crackle from the fire was the only thing he could hear beyond Jared’s hitched breathing until Jared blew out a breath, turned his head up to face him. “So are the kids. They made it, too. Man, the little girl, she looks just like him. Same mouth, same freckles.” Sam could see the renewed threat of tears in the corner of Jared’s eyes. “The boy’s small though. Too small. Jen won’t … I don’t know if he’ll be able to cope if he loses him.”
“But he’s alive now? They’re all alive?”
“Yeah.”
Sam frowned. Jared looked distraught, traumatized, and yet everyone was alright, everyone came through. Sam’d seen the effects of trauma too many times, knew that once the adrenaline rush had passed the crash could be debilitating and catastrophic. Post traumatic stress wasn’t something to be ignored but, yeah, something had gone wrong in delivery, but Jeff had pulled them all through.
He could live with that.
Jared would too.
“Where is everyone?”
Jared nodded towards the stairs. “Joseph’s up there. Asleep I think, I don’t know. Alan’s with him.” He turned towards the rooms behind him, the bedrooms on the ground floor which had been converted into theatre, exam room. “Everyone else is through there.”
“And you?” Sam knelt in front of Jared, “Where are you?”
Jared smiled, “Me? I’m getting some air. Stoking the fire. Important to keep this place warm you know?”
Sam didn’t mention that Jared was neither getting air nor tending to the fire. This had been his retreat, this had been his chance to get away and breathe.
“It got rough.” It wasn’t a question.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
Jeff checked the wound again, larger than he would’ve liked, red and angry and held together with a tapestry of black thread. The ochre of the disinfectant and white of the antibacterial ointment did nothing to diminish the network of rainbow hued bruises, growing deeper, richer, as they bloomed on the pale canvas.
He made sure there was no evidence of bleeding, or tearing, and covered it lightly. He didn’t want to fix a dressing over it, not so soon, not when the drainage tube was still embedded amongst the black, not when there was still a chance he’d need to go back in. He needed to be able to check it regularly.
He felt inadequate. Yeah, he’d not lost anyone today but there’d been times, plenty, when he’d been convinced he was going to lose all three of them.
He looked across at Donna. She had her back to him as she tended to her grandchildren. He pretended not to notice the way her shoulders shook, the way her body stilled every now and again as she tried to catch her breath.
Everyone was running on fumes, even though it had only been hours he felt like he’d not slept in days.
He had no idea where Jared had disappeared to, but he knew Alan and Donna wouldn’t be leaving their boys anytime soon.
God. He had four patients to tend to and he just wanted to climb into bed and sleep for a week.
Joseph would be fine in a day or two. His main problem was that he refused to accept he couldn’t help, not any more than he already had. When the hemorrhaging began the stored units of blood and plasma hadn’t lasted long and Joseph had provided that essential reserve. Jeff had taken more than he was comfortable with, but it had worked.
He’d drained Joseph’s blood while his brother’s screams had filled the room. He’d been grateful, so fucking grateful, when Jensen had finally passed out.
Nothing Jeff had ever experienced, or read about, had prepared him for what he discovered when he made that first incision. But there’d been no going back once he’d started.
If he’d been Jensen’s least favorite person before…? He tamped down on the thought. He didn’t need to go there.
He pulled the sheet up over the unconscious man and checked the I.V. line, adjusted the flow before stepping away. The soles of his shoes sticking to the remnants of the hastily cleaned up blood.
It smelt like a charnel house, like the battlefields he’d left behind years ago, when Sam entered the room and walked across to Jensen, pale, out cold.
He rested his hand on Jensen’s own and stroked it. Jensen inspired his softer side like no-one, not even Sarah, had before. If Jensen had been awake there’d have been words Sam could’ve said, as it was, as still and lifeless as he looked, Sam couldn’t find any of them. He took comfort in the steady rise and fall of Jensen’s chest, and then moved to introduce himself to the other occupants of the room.
As he approached the incubators Donna stepped away, off doing something in the corner of the room with formula or something, he didn’t pay her enough attention to be sure.
Like their father they were unconscious, but unlike him their sleep was natural. He took in tiny clenched fists, a sprinkling of freckles, a dusting of hair. He knew Sarah would think this was worth everything. Sam had never been one to argue with her, not about something that mattered.
As Donna moved towards her granddaughter, Sam made his retreat, content to let the woman, who would rarely share more than a handful of words with him, fuss over the baby.
When Alan stepped in Donna acknowledged him, briefly, as he stepped towards his son, took hold of the hand Sam had released only minutes before.
Sam felt as if he was intruding and left the parents to take care of their child.
Jared was no longer alone when he returned to him and Sam addressed his company.
“What went wrong?”
Jeff looked up, fatigue etched into every line of his face. “Before or after he started bleeding out?”
Sam registered the defensiveness in Jeff’s tone, but he wasn’t prepared to be the doctor’s therapist. He wasn’t interested in letting him vent, or in trying to placate. “I’m interested in the facts, Jeff, not in throwing blame or accusations in anyone’s direction.”
Jeff looked at Jared and then stood up, his back to the fire that was more alive than it had been when Sam had left Jared alone. “You know Gestates are almost entirely an American phenomenon, right? I mean, Anders only carried out his experiments on US soil and, though there are Gestates in other countries they got there through generations of migration or …”
“People running away.”
Jeff nodded, “Yeah, or through running. But, whichever way you look at it, most of the world’s Gestate population lives on US soil and as such they’ve been studied and catalogued and written about in papers and journals and… and Jensen’s different. Different to all of them.”
“I take it you’re not just talking about his ability to have daughters?”
Jeff shook his head, “I wish. The blood loss, that’s a known danger. Even though I hoped it wouldn’t happen I was prepared for it but … but the way his body was, inside. The way the pouches had formed and were connected to him…” Jeff’s gaze went to the beams of wood in the ceiling, “If we’d still had access to a hospital, could’ve scanned him, could’ve seen the way things were, I could’ve done a better job.”
Sam stepped forward, “They’re alive Jeff, as far as I can see you did a bloody good job.”
Jeff grimaced, “I doubt Jensen will agree with you when he wakes up.”
“Maybe not,” Sam conceded, “but he’s alive, and so are his kids. That’ll count for a lot.”
Sam took a breath before bringing up a subject Jeff probably didn’t want to consider right now. “How long before they can travel?”
Jeff frowned. “Why?”
Sam didn’t want to elaborate, “This camp was never meant to be permanent and I’m sure everyone’s going stir crazy. How long?”
Jeff ran his hand across the stubble that he’d been cultivating into a beard. “Jensen could probably travel in a week, maybe. But not too far, you can’t keep him on the road for long. He’ll be uncomfortable as hell but he could do it. The babies? The boy isn’t out of the woods. But, in a week, maybe he’ll be strong enough too.”
Sam nodded, thinking through alternatives as Jeff walked away, “I think I’ll go check on my patients.”
Jared, who’d remained silent through his conversation with the doctor, spoke up once it was just the two of them left in the room. “Why do you want to move us now? What’s the urgency?”
Sam debated not telling him, debated lying. He decided against it. His answer, his reason, was one word long.
“Jack!”
Next
Title: Desperate Times (48/50)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/OMCs, AU, Non-con, Dub-con, MPREG
A/N: Cast of this story available here.
Additional Warnings For This and Upcoming Chapters for those that want them – Reading these may, in my opinion, spoil your enjoyment of the story: (Highlight to read) Extreme medical practices, acts of terrorism, violence - murder and CHARACTER DEATH (I only kill original characters.) Oh, and I believe in happy endings!
A/N2: Okay, so after this there are two chapters left… I may take a break before starting to post Desperate Measures because I have other writing commitments (including, to my horror, BigBang) … but that depends, completely, on whether I can resist the pull of what I have planned for that story. Damn … you know how you guys sometimes hate me, sometimes feel I’m being mean and evil? Well … ummm … I’ve a feeling that won’t be changing when I start posting the sequel … though, on the other hand, I may just surprise you.
Sam pulled up in front of the cabin that was his occasional home. He’d been trying to work out how he was going to break his news for the last couple of hours and decided a direct approach was probably his best option. Jared would no doubt freak the hell out when, if, he find out why, but the others didn’t really need to know the details. They just had to accept that they needed to leave as soon as possible. He could give them a day or two to pack up what was too important to leave behind, but that would be it as far as the leeway went. He wanted, needed them out of here for his own peace of mind, if nothing else.
Before he’d even entered the cabin he knew it was empty. There was no smoke coming from the chimney. Both the fire and the stove had been allowed to go out, though, when he stepped into the cabin and approached the cast iron monstrosity that had become Donna Ackles’ slave there was enough residual heat to indicate it had only recently died.
It was a notorious bitch to get to ignite and he wasn’t volunteering for the task. He wondered whether they should even go through the bother of trying.
Stepping back out onto the porch he could see signs of life in both of the other cabins, but it didn’t take a genius to guess which one he had to head for. Jensen’s mother rarely left the warmth of the kitchen, and she’d have been cooking a mess of lunch for everyone on a normal day. Alan and Joe could be anywhere, but Jared? Jared would be wherever Jensen was - unless he was with Trey.
Jensen wasn’t with Trey.
With dread unfurling in his gut he concluded that Jensen was probably with Jeff. Jensen and everyone else, which could mean one of two things – a party or child birth.
He knew which one he would put his money on.
As he skirted the second cabin, trying to work out who, if anyone, would still be inside, he attempted to convince himself that Jensen delivering early wasn’t a problem. He didn’t believe it.
Jumping up onto the porch and opening the door his eyes were immediately drawn to the large wooden table that sat near the kitchen counter – a replication of the ones in both other cabins – but it was deserted. Moving deeper into the large open space he noticed Jared sitting, silently, on Jeff’s sofa, head resting in hands that he probably didn’t even realize were covered in blood, dried on his fingers, blackened under his nails. He didn’t look up when Sam entered, didn’t acknowledge that he was no longer alone.
Probably didn’t know.
Sam began constructing a wall of ice round his heart, imagining the worst.
The worst …?
Losing Sarah had been the worst. Losing Sarah. Why was it then that the very thought of losing Jensen was just as agonizing?
Steeling himself he approached Jared, placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently. “Jared.”
When Jared looked up Sam was grateful to see that the tears were dry, though the evidence on his face suggested that their cessation was a very recent event.
Jared didn’t say anything, didn’t question Sam’s presence, didn’t volunteer any information. He blinked, once, twice. Sam had to break the silence. “What’s happened?” His voice was calm, strong, demanding.
Jared swallowed, turned to look at the fire, still glowing, still giving off heat, before he spoke. “Jeff had to deliver Jensen’s children today.”
Sam knew that, didn’t need it spelling out for him, but he reigned in his impatience. It had the danger of morphing into anger and that was going to be counterproductive. “I take it something went wrong?” He continued to suppress the emotion that was waging a war inside, keep it from creeping into his voice.
He held his breath as he waited for confirmation.
Jared nodded.
Sam needed more than that, no matter that he dreaded hearing the words. He needed to know if Jensen was still with them, whether the babies were lost.
“Tell me.”
Jared tensed. He spoke when he found his words. “Jeff. Jeff found something he wasn’t expecting. It made things more … difficult.”
Sam was going to start swinging if Jared didn’t tell him what he needed to know right now. “What about Jensen?”
“Sleeping.”
The ice, which had been piss poor at doing the job he’d employed it for, began to thaw.
Jensen was alive. He could – would - cope with the rest.
The crackle from the fire was the only thing he could hear beyond Jared’s hitched breathing until Jared blew out a breath, turned his head up to face him. “So are the kids. They made it, too. Man, the little girl, she looks just like him. Same mouth, same freckles.” Sam could see the renewed threat of tears in the corner of Jared’s eyes. “The boy’s small though. Too small. Jen won’t … I don’t know if he’ll be able to cope if he loses him.”
“But he’s alive now? They’re all alive?”
“Yeah.”
Sam frowned. Jared looked distraught, traumatized, and yet everyone was alright, everyone came through. Sam’d seen the effects of trauma too many times, knew that once the adrenaline rush had passed the crash could be debilitating and catastrophic. Post traumatic stress wasn’t something to be ignored but, yeah, something had gone wrong in delivery, but Jeff had pulled them all through.
He could live with that.
Jared would too.
“Where is everyone?”
Jared nodded towards the stairs. “Joseph’s up there. Asleep I think, I don’t know. Alan’s with him.” He turned towards the rooms behind him, the bedrooms on the ground floor which had been converted into theatre, exam room. “Everyone else is through there.”
“And you?” Sam knelt in front of Jared, “Where are you?”
Jared smiled, “Me? I’m getting some air. Stoking the fire. Important to keep this place warm you know?”
Sam didn’t mention that Jared was neither getting air nor tending to the fire. This had been his retreat, this had been his chance to get away and breathe.
“It got rough.” It wasn’t a question.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
Jeff checked the wound again, larger than he would’ve liked, red and angry and held together with a tapestry of black thread. The ochre of the disinfectant and white of the antibacterial ointment did nothing to diminish the network of rainbow hued bruises, growing deeper, richer, as they bloomed on the pale canvas.
He made sure there was no evidence of bleeding, or tearing, and covered it lightly. He didn’t want to fix a dressing over it, not so soon, not when the drainage tube was still embedded amongst the black, not when there was still a chance he’d need to go back in. He needed to be able to check it regularly.
He felt inadequate. Yeah, he’d not lost anyone today but there’d been times, plenty, when he’d been convinced he was going to lose all three of them.
He looked across at Donna. She had her back to him as she tended to her grandchildren. He pretended not to notice the way her shoulders shook, the way her body stilled every now and again as she tried to catch her breath.
Everyone was running on fumes, even though it had only been hours he felt like he’d not slept in days.
He had no idea where Jared had disappeared to, but he knew Alan and Donna wouldn’t be leaving their boys anytime soon.
God. He had four patients to tend to and he just wanted to climb into bed and sleep for a week.
Joseph would be fine in a day or two. His main problem was that he refused to accept he couldn’t help, not any more than he already had. When the hemorrhaging began the stored units of blood and plasma hadn’t lasted long and Joseph had provided that essential reserve. Jeff had taken more than he was comfortable with, but it had worked.
He’d drained Joseph’s blood while his brother’s screams had filled the room. He’d been grateful, so fucking grateful, when Jensen had finally passed out.
Nothing Jeff had ever experienced, or read about, had prepared him for what he discovered when he made that first incision. But there’d been no going back once he’d started.
If he’d been Jensen’s least favorite person before…? He tamped down on the thought. He didn’t need to go there.
He pulled the sheet up over the unconscious man and checked the I.V. line, adjusted the flow before stepping away. The soles of his shoes sticking to the remnants of the hastily cleaned up blood.
It smelt like a charnel house, like the battlefields he’d left behind years ago, when Sam entered the room and walked across to Jensen, pale, out cold.
He rested his hand on Jensen’s own and stroked it. Jensen inspired his softer side like no-one, not even Sarah, had before. If Jensen had been awake there’d have been words Sam could’ve said, as it was, as still and lifeless as he looked, Sam couldn’t find any of them. He took comfort in the steady rise and fall of Jensen’s chest, and then moved to introduce himself to the other occupants of the room.
As he approached the incubators Donna stepped away, off doing something in the corner of the room with formula or something, he didn’t pay her enough attention to be sure.
Like their father they were unconscious, but unlike him their sleep was natural. He took in tiny clenched fists, a sprinkling of freckles, a dusting of hair. He knew Sarah would think this was worth everything. Sam had never been one to argue with her, not about something that mattered.
As Donna moved towards her granddaughter, Sam made his retreat, content to let the woman, who would rarely share more than a handful of words with him, fuss over the baby.
When Alan stepped in Donna acknowledged him, briefly, as he stepped towards his son, took hold of the hand Sam had released only minutes before.
Sam felt as if he was intruding and left the parents to take care of their child.
Jared was no longer alone when he returned to him and Sam addressed his company.
“What went wrong?”
Jeff looked up, fatigue etched into every line of his face. “Before or after he started bleeding out?”
Sam registered the defensiveness in Jeff’s tone, but he wasn’t prepared to be the doctor’s therapist. He wasn’t interested in letting him vent, or in trying to placate. “I’m interested in the facts, Jeff, not in throwing blame or accusations in anyone’s direction.”
Jeff looked at Jared and then stood up, his back to the fire that was more alive than it had been when Sam had left Jared alone. “You know Gestates are almost entirely an American phenomenon, right? I mean, Anders only carried out his experiments on US soil and, though there are Gestates in other countries they got there through generations of migration or …”
“People running away.”
Jeff nodded, “Yeah, or through running. But, whichever way you look at it, most of the world’s Gestate population lives on US soil and as such they’ve been studied and catalogued and written about in papers and journals and… and Jensen’s different. Different to all of them.”
“I take it you’re not just talking about his ability to have daughters?”
Jeff shook his head, “I wish. The blood loss, that’s a known danger. Even though I hoped it wouldn’t happen I was prepared for it but … but the way his body was, inside. The way the pouches had formed and were connected to him…” Jeff’s gaze went to the beams of wood in the ceiling, “If we’d still had access to a hospital, could’ve scanned him, could’ve seen the way things were, I could’ve done a better job.”
Sam stepped forward, “They’re alive Jeff, as far as I can see you did a bloody good job.”
Jeff grimaced, “I doubt Jensen will agree with you when he wakes up.”
“Maybe not,” Sam conceded, “but he’s alive, and so are his kids. That’ll count for a lot.”
Sam took a breath before bringing up a subject Jeff probably didn’t want to consider right now. “How long before they can travel?”
Jeff frowned. “Why?”
Sam didn’t want to elaborate, “This camp was never meant to be permanent and I’m sure everyone’s going stir crazy. How long?”
Jeff ran his hand across the stubble that he’d been cultivating into a beard. “Jensen could probably travel in a week, maybe. But not too far, you can’t keep him on the road for long. He’ll be uncomfortable as hell but he could do it. The babies? The boy isn’t out of the woods. But, in a week, maybe he’ll be strong enough too.”
Sam nodded, thinking through alternatives as Jeff walked away, “I think I’ll go check on my patients.”
Jared, who’d remained silent through his conversation with the doctor, spoke up once it was just the two of them left in the room. “Why do you want to move us now? What’s the urgency?”
Sam debated not telling him, debated lying. He decided against it. His answer, his reason, was one word long.
“Jack!”
Next
