Desperate Times 21/? NC-17
Sep. 11th, 2008 12:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hemrageChapter 20: here.
Title: Desperate Times (21/?)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/OMCs, AU, Non-con, Dub-con, MPREG
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) Acts of terrorism, violence, murder and CHARACTER DEATH (I only kill original characters, so Jared and Jensen are safe)
The deep blues and purples reminded him of a summer sunset. Beautiful, if they hadn’t been painting his skin. The fingers were tight on his right hand, swollen, painful, and the bruising arced up, round them and beyond his wrist. His face ached, as did his back and side, but Doctor Morgan had followed policy - no drugs for potentially pregnant Gestates. No pain relief. It was all well and good feeling the satisfaction of knowing he’d put Karl Winter in the hospital, but you have to come down from the high eventually and Jensen felt like he was plummeting. Freefall. No way of stopping until he hit the ground.
The bland, austere rooms had felt cramped, claustrophobic, when they’d been occupied by four men, but now he felt like he was rattling around in a tin can.
Aimless.
Lonely.
Jensen had never experienced loneliness before. Oh he’d been alone, but it had always been a comfortable solitude.
Time to just reflect and think and be.
Recently he’d spent so much of his time wanting to be alone, wanting space that it was a shock to realize that now he had it it was too much. Much too much. He missed the attention he’d hated. The concerned gazes, casual touches and forced intimacy. The nagging persuasion to improve his eating habits - or lack of them.
Eating habits.
Eating?
Damn it, he was hungry. Seemed to be a constant state now that boredom had invaded his life, and it had only been a day. If he wasn’t careful he’d not only put on the weight Doctor Morgan thought he needed to, he’d be so large they’d be widening the doors and reinforcing the furniture.
Though the fresh groceries hadn’t materialized this morning, and he didn’t have access to the store room, he’d discovered while he was preparing breakfast that there was more than enough left over from the day before. Plenty to choose from.
Though he didn’t really find organic, healthy, non processed food appealing just right now.
He wanted dessert.
Fried chicken.
Anything with more calories than nutritional value would have been more than welcome.
He looked at the selection of tins and packages and dismissed them. Bland, bland, boring and bland. And he wasn’t feeling nearly energetic enough to spend the better part of a couple of hours making something out of the cupboards offerings.
The only sweet things he could find were the fruits in the bowl. Nothing exotic - apples, bananas, oranges. He picked up the orange, considered it for less than a second before dropping it back with its counterparts. He hated the process of peeling oranges, hated how he felt the need to remove each segment in turn and remove every slither of white. How the juice squirted up his arm. The orange could wait. He had neither the patience nor the dexterity at the moment. As for the apples? - he preferred them baked into pies.
Taking a banana he ventured out into the garden, taking the time to appreciate the green space that he’d helped Jared tend once or twice, though its care had mostly been left to the capable hands of the men who were left unoccupied while Jensen was … well, while Jensen wasn’t unoccupied.
Jensen was under the impression that Jack had done the lion’s share of the gardening, Sam had never really seemed that interested even though Jensen was sure he’d seen him pulling weeds once or twice.
He lowered himself gently onto the grass, careful not to put too much pressure on any aching piece of himself, before leaning back, spreading the weight across his back as he stared up at the sky. Clouds floated. A ship morphed into a house, into a tree, into a face, as it sailed overhead.
He’d played this game as a kid out in the backyard when he was alone and Jeff and Joe were busy doing big kid things, but had stopped the very first time he’d been described as a dreamer. Criticism, even if nothing was meant by it, taken too much to heart.
As the first drops of rain fell he chose to ignore them. The water, a welcome relief against the heat in his skin. When the rain started to fall more heavily he closed his eyes, allowed it trickle round the contours of his face, down the length of his neck. It was only when the welcome cool turned into harsher cold that he took refuge inside. Closing the door on the outside world, hiding behind the glass of his cell.
Jensen shivered, the clothes he wore doing him no favors. He removed them, dropping them on the floor as he walked into the bathroom.
The shower sent tendrils of heat across his skin, and for a while he was content to stand under the heated cascade. He looked at the dispensers embedded in the wall, took some soap, but his eyes were drawn to the third. The one Jared always used to ease the way. Drained, he slumped against the tile. A small grunt escaped as his muscles complained about the additional pressure the small impact caused.
He brought his hands to his head, pushing his hair back briefly before allowing the water to send his too long bangs back over his face.
Where the hell had the elation he’d felt so recently disappeared to?
If his mood didn’t pick up soon he was going to hit the ground, he knew it. The impact wouldn’t be pretty.
He watched the water swirl round his feet before bringing his gaze up further, taking in his body. There were times when he caught sight of his pale, hairless skin and he didn’t think it was him. Was convinced it was someone else. But there were other times, more common of late, when he couldn’t remember exactly what shade of red the hair on his groin had been, or how fair the hair was that covered his arms and legs.
He stifled a yawn.
Tired.
So tired.
He needed sleep so much. But the last time he’d slept he’d woken to a nasty surprise. He didn’t want to be caught unaware like that again.
Not again.
If he was having company tonight he wanted to know about it, didn’t want someone standing over him, watching him sleep. And alright, throwing a punch would fucking hurt, but he’d do it, happily. Even if it meant he’d never be able to hold a pen again.
Jensen looked around the bathroom, momentarily surprised that that was where he still was. His clothes were nothing but a wet, muddy pile on the floor. But a robe hung on the back of the door. He reached for it and slipped it on, wrapping it tightly round his body.
Too big, he drowned in it. The sleeve’s swallowed his hands, and he shook his head grinning as he rolled them up.
Jared’s?
Probably.
He could almost smell Jared in the cloth … almost.
He left the bathroom, walked back over to the window, stared out as the rain bounced off the ground. The grass already looked sodden and saturated. Thin slithers of blue appeared tantalizingly through breaks in the cloud only to be swallowed up moments later.
Darkness crept in, the lights came on as sensors picked up the dip in luminosity. Jensen couldn’t see how it was already late enough for night to set in, but he had no way of tracking the time.
Wasn’t as if he had anywhere to be.
He turned, intending to head into the kitchen, find something else to eat, to fill a few more moments of his day, when the television caught his attention - sitting like a lure in front of the sofa. Jensen decided to take the bait. He’d never really had time for television. Had followed a few shows as a kid, but as his days had become busier a greater demand on his time had encroached on his recreational viewing. Television had become a source of information, not entertainment.
As soon as he turned it on a voice filled the silence, accented, female. Jensen wrapped himself deeper into Jared’s robe. He pulled up the collar so that the water dripping from his hair didn’t slip down his back.
The dark haired woman smiled seductively out of the screen before licking some chocolate off her finger. For a minute Jensen wasn’t sure whether what he was watching was a cookery show or some kind of soft porn. But, as she slipped a chocolate bar into a thick, creamy batter before dropping it into hot oil, he decided whatever it was it was too good to ignore. His mouth began to water. The calories in something like that would be incredible and Jensen wanted one – desperately. His stomach growled in agreement.
He was torturing himself. The joy of drooling over images of food he couldn’t consume vanished almost as soon as it appeared.
The rest of the channels held no appeal, but he was still proud of himself when he realized he’d managed to waste the best part of, what he guessed had to be an hour, surfing through them just in case something good came on.
He flipped the switch on the remote and set the equipment up for the video games. After dying five times in the first two minutes he gave up on that too.
As another yawn escaped he knew he wouldn’t be able to deny himself sleep any longer…
After he had something to eat.
Ten minutes later he was settled on Jared’s bed. The sleeves of the robe uncurled so his hands were buried, his legs pulled up so even his feet were hidden under the soft folds of fabric.
She was there when he closed his eyes. The little girl with the golden hair and green eyes. Giggling and running round and round in circles with her new little friend. He’s shyer than she is, won’t show his face, but he allows her to take hold of his hand. Joins her in her spirals.
He’s taller than she is, hair a darker, chestnut brown, but Jensen still can’t see his face no matter how much he strains. He can hear him though. Hear him as his laughter joins hers, blends with it. Harmonizes. They belong together.
With consciousness comes peace, a smile on his face and a lightness he hasn’t felt in some time. An upswing on the rollercoaster his moods have become. He’s nowhere near hitting the ground right now, no matter how close he thought he’d been earlier. He’s no doubt the upswing will inevitably be followed by the plunge, but he’ll just take what he can get.
It takes a while to notice that there’s something a little peculiar about the light that’s filtered through into the alcove. It’s not the even glow of the sun or the artificial light that usually fills his cell.
Jensen climbed off the bed, and ventured out beyond the curtain. The unmistakeable orange glow of fire lit up the night outside the glass.
As Jensen pulled Jared’s giant robe more snugly around his body and opened the door, the sudden cacophony almost caused him to retreat back inside. The alarm accompanied by the roar of the fire, almost deafening him after the silence.
Suddenly, to the left, another explosion. Opposite side of the complex to the first. Then, between them, a third. Jensen didn’t run, didn’t duck. A thought, one word, a name, entering his head.
Sarah?
It was possible, likely even. This could be another attempt at a rescue, another attempt to get him out.
The garden wall disappeared to his right, the fire didn’t take hold there, though. Jensen stared into the shadowed recess, the gaping hole. Certain there was movement in that pitch blackness.
“Jensen!”
Jensen’s legs carried him towards the voice. Towards whoever called his name.
He never considered not going.
He stepped into the black.
Part 22
A/N: I’m not too sure about this chapter, but, after noticing the time, I trimmed out a lot of superfluous stuff and posted. Please forgive me, there’ll be more action next time.
I won't be cross posting this until I have the next part up to offer with it.
Title: Desperate Times (21/?)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/OMCs, AU, Non-con, Dub-con, MPREG
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) Acts of terrorism, violence, murder and CHARACTER DEATH (I only kill original characters, so Jared and Jensen are safe)
The deep blues and purples reminded him of a summer sunset. Beautiful, if they hadn’t been painting his skin. The fingers were tight on his right hand, swollen, painful, and the bruising arced up, round them and beyond his wrist. His face ached, as did his back and side, but Doctor Morgan had followed policy - no drugs for potentially pregnant Gestates. No pain relief. It was all well and good feeling the satisfaction of knowing he’d put Karl Winter in the hospital, but you have to come down from the high eventually and Jensen felt like he was plummeting. Freefall. No way of stopping until he hit the ground.
The bland, austere rooms had felt cramped, claustrophobic, when they’d been occupied by four men, but now he felt like he was rattling around in a tin can.
Aimless.
Lonely.
Jensen had never experienced loneliness before. Oh he’d been alone, but it had always been a comfortable solitude.
Time to just reflect and think and be.
Recently he’d spent so much of his time wanting to be alone, wanting space that it was a shock to realize that now he had it it was too much. Much too much. He missed the attention he’d hated. The concerned gazes, casual touches and forced intimacy. The nagging persuasion to improve his eating habits - or lack of them.
Eating habits.
Eating?
Damn it, he was hungry. Seemed to be a constant state now that boredom had invaded his life, and it had only been a day. If he wasn’t careful he’d not only put on the weight Doctor Morgan thought he needed to, he’d be so large they’d be widening the doors and reinforcing the furniture.
Though the fresh groceries hadn’t materialized this morning, and he didn’t have access to the store room, he’d discovered while he was preparing breakfast that there was more than enough left over from the day before. Plenty to choose from.
Though he didn’t really find organic, healthy, non processed food appealing just right now.
He wanted dessert.
Fried chicken.
Anything with more calories than nutritional value would have been more than welcome.
He looked at the selection of tins and packages and dismissed them. Bland, bland, boring and bland. And he wasn’t feeling nearly energetic enough to spend the better part of a couple of hours making something out of the cupboards offerings.
The only sweet things he could find were the fruits in the bowl. Nothing exotic - apples, bananas, oranges. He picked up the orange, considered it for less than a second before dropping it back with its counterparts. He hated the process of peeling oranges, hated how he felt the need to remove each segment in turn and remove every slither of white. How the juice squirted up his arm. The orange could wait. He had neither the patience nor the dexterity at the moment. As for the apples? - he preferred them baked into pies.
Taking a banana he ventured out into the garden, taking the time to appreciate the green space that he’d helped Jared tend once or twice, though its care had mostly been left to the capable hands of the men who were left unoccupied while Jensen was … well, while Jensen wasn’t unoccupied.
Jensen was under the impression that Jack had done the lion’s share of the gardening, Sam had never really seemed that interested even though Jensen was sure he’d seen him pulling weeds once or twice.
He lowered himself gently onto the grass, careful not to put too much pressure on any aching piece of himself, before leaning back, spreading the weight across his back as he stared up at the sky. Clouds floated. A ship morphed into a house, into a tree, into a face, as it sailed overhead.
He’d played this game as a kid out in the backyard when he was alone and Jeff and Joe were busy doing big kid things, but had stopped the very first time he’d been described as a dreamer. Criticism, even if nothing was meant by it, taken too much to heart.
As the first drops of rain fell he chose to ignore them. The water, a welcome relief against the heat in his skin. When the rain started to fall more heavily he closed his eyes, allowed it trickle round the contours of his face, down the length of his neck. It was only when the welcome cool turned into harsher cold that he took refuge inside. Closing the door on the outside world, hiding behind the glass of his cell.
Jensen shivered, the clothes he wore doing him no favors. He removed them, dropping them on the floor as he walked into the bathroom.
The shower sent tendrils of heat across his skin, and for a while he was content to stand under the heated cascade. He looked at the dispensers embedded in the wall, took some soap, but his eyes were drawn to the third. The one Jared always used to ease the way. Drained, he slumped against the tile. A small grunt escaped as his muscles complained about the additional pressure the small impact caused.
He brought his hands to his head, pushing his hair back briefly before allowing the water to send his too long bangs back over his face.
Where the hell had the elation he’d felt so recently disappeared to?
If his mood didn’t pick up soon he was going to hit the ground, he knew it. The impact wouldn’t be pretty.
He watched the water swirl round his feet before bringing his gaze up further, taking in his body. There were times when he caught sight of his pale, hairless skin and he didn’t think it was him. Was convinced it was someone else. But there were other times, more common of late, when he couldn’t remember exactly what shade of red the hair on his groin had been, or how fair the hair was that covered his arms and legs.
He stifled a yawn.
Tired.
So tired.
He needed sleep so much. But the last time he’d slept he’d woken to a nasty surprise. He didn’t want to be caught unaware like that again.
Not again.
If he was having company tonight he wanted to know about it, didn’t want someone standing over him, watching him sleep. And alright, throwing a punch would fucking hurt, but he’d do it, happily. Even if it meant he’d never be able to hold a pen again.
Jensen looked around the bathroom, momentarily surprised that that was where he still was. His clothes were nothing but a wet, muddy pile on the floor. But a robe hung on the back of the door. He reached for it and slipped it on, wrapping it tightly round his body.
Too big, he drowned in it. The sleeve’s swallowed his hands, and he shook his head grinning as he rolled them up.
Jared’s?
Probably.
He could almost smell Jared in the cloth … almost.
He left the bathroom, walked back over to the window, stared out as the rain bounced off the ground. The grass already looked sodden and saturated. Thin slithers of blue appeared tantalizingly through breaks in the cloud only to be swallowed up moments later.
Darkness crept in, the lights came on as sensors picked up the dip in luminosity. Jensen couldn’t see how it was already late enough for night to set in, but he had no way of tracking the time.
Wasn’t as if he had anywhere to be.
He turned, intending to head into the kitchen, find something else to eat, to fill a few more moments of his day, when the television caught his attention - sitting like a lure in front of the sofa. Jensen decided to take the bait. He’d never really had time for television. Had followed a few shows as a kid, but as his days had become busier a greater demand on his time had encroached on his recreational viewing. Television had become a source of information, not entertainment.
As soon as he turned it on a voice filled the silence, accented, female. Jensen wrapped himself deeper into Jared’s robe. He pulled up the collar so that the water dripping from his hair didn’t slip down his back.
The dark haired woman smiled seductively out of the screen before licking some chocolate off her finger. For a minute Jensen wasn’t sure whether what he was watching was a cookery show or some kind of soft porn. But, as she slipped a chocolate bar into a thick, creamy batter before dropping it into hot oil, he decided whatever it was it was too good to ignore. His mouth began to water. The calories in something like that would be incredible and Jensen wanted one – desperately. His stomach growled in agreement.
He was torturing himself. The joy of drooling over images of food he couldn’t consume vanished almost as soon as it appeared.
The rest of the channels held no appeal, but he was still proud of himself when he realized he’d managed to waste the best part of, what he guessed had to be an hour, surfing through them just in case something good came on.
He flipped the switch on the remote and set the equipment up for the video games. After dying five times in the first two minutes he gave up on that too.
As another yawn escaped he knew he wouldn’t be able to deny himself sleep any longer…
After he had something to eat.
Ten minutes later he was settled on Jared’s bed. The sleeves of the robe uncurled so his hands were buried, his legs pulled up so even his feet were hidden under the soft folds of fabric.
She was there when he closed his eyes. The little girl with the golden hair and green eyes. Giggling and running round and round in circles with her new little friend. He’s shyer than she is, won’t show his face, but he allows her to take hold of his hand. Joins her in her spirals.
He’s taller than she is, hair a darker, chestnut brown, but Jensen still can’t see his face no matter how much he strains. He can hear him though. Hear him as his laughter joins hers, blends with it. Harmonizes. They belong together.
With consciousness comes peace, a smile on his face and a lightness he hasn’t felt in some time. An upswing on the rollercoaster his moods have become. He’s nowhere near hitting the ground right now, no matter how close he thought he’d been earlier. He’s no doubt the upswing will inevitably be followed by the plunge, but he’ll just take what he can get.
It takes a while to notice that there’s something a little peculiar about the light that’s filtered through into the alcove. It’s not the even glow of the sun or the artificial light that usually fills his cell.
Jensen climbed off the bed, and ventured out beyond the curtain. The unmistakeable orange glow of fire lit up the night outside the glass.
As Jensen pulled Jared’s giant robe more snugly around his body and opened the door, the sudden cacophony almost caused him to retreat back inside. The alarm accompanied by the roar of the fire, almost deafening him after the silence.
Suddenly, to the left, another explosion. Opposite side of the complex to the first. Then, between them, a third. Jensen didn’t run, didn’t duck. A thought, one word, a name, entering his head.
Sarah?
It was possible, likely even. This could be another attempt at a rescue, another attempt to get him out.
The garden wall disappeared to his right, the fire didn’t take hold there, though. Jensen stared into the shadowed recess, the gaping hole. Certain there was movement in that pitch blackness.
“Jensen!”
Jensen’s legs carried him towards the voice. Towards whoever called his name.
He never considered not going.
He stepped into the black.
Part 22
A/N: I’m not too sure about this chapter, but, after noticing the time, I trimmed out a lot of superfluous stuff and posted. Please forgive me, there’ll be more action next time.
I won't be cross posting this until I have the next part up to offer with it.
