NC-17 | In This Windy City (8/8)
Nov. 25th, 2010 02:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)

Jumping out of his car, Jared keeps an eye on the people around him. A few random pedestrians, a couple high school kids hanging on the stoop of a house on the other side of the street, and a man who crosses under a streetlamp that illuminates blond hair.
Jared stops immediately.
“Can’t be this easy,” he mumbles to himself with a tiny laugh as he scoots behinds a conversion van and pulls his phone out. It’s taken nearly 48 hours to follow the trail of people attached to an old address Chad Murray held three years ago. But here it is, the end of the line.
It takes a few moments for Jared to figure out where apartment 409 could be. Easier yet, lights flicker on inside a top-floor apartment and Chad walks in front of the window before snagging the drapes shut.
Just a few harsh breaths separate the moment from Jared putting a call through to Morgan. It hits voicemail but half a minute later, Morgan’s calling him back. Jared instantly rattles off, “I got Murray at 7944 South Paulina. Fourth floor apartment.”
“What d’you mean you got him?” Morgan asks, hushed and confused.
“7944 Paulina. Apartment 409, Natalie Sedore.” When he sees three shadows, he sucks in a breath. “A man and woman are also in the apartment.”
“You know he’s there?”
Jared chuckles harshly, dragging his eyes across the site to take in the three segments of the apartment complex and the doors that lead in. “I saw him. You comin’ or what?”
“Be there in ten. Hold outside.”
“I’m going in five.”
“Pada-” Morgan groans before Jared ends the call.
He waits the ten minutes, but Morgan’s not there yet and there’re no obvious noises in racing squads or sirens.
Then he sees it: shadows at the front window, huddled together, fighting and shoving, and one body is shoved into the picture window. It’s hard enough to break, the crack of the glass threatening to shatter pierces the air.
Jared runs to the main door, but it’s locked for security and he chances the bell for apartment 410. When its resident comes through the speakerbox, Jared comes up with the first lie he can manage.
“Floral delivery.” Then he runs his finger along the nameplate and adds, “For Ms. Blair?”
The woman oddly replies, “Okay. Be right down.”
Jared moves off the stoop and looks back up to 409, with its curtains closed but light still on, showing random shadows when Chad, another man, and, presumably, Natalie Sedore step near the window. He’s so busy watching that the door opening startles him, which also scares the young woman he’d just promised flowers to.
With his eyes up to the fourth floor, he pulls the edge of his jacket back to show his badge and steps forward, slow enough to not further alarm her. “If you don’t mind, ma’am. I need to get inside.”
She moves back inside, flush to the wall with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asks in a high, frantic voice.
“Nothing at all,” he mumbles, drawing his gun from his back holster and starting up the stairs. She’s following behind him, so he tries in the most level of voices, “Head back into your apartment and keep the door closed,” before rushing up the stairs as quietly as possible.
When he reaches 409, he stays against the wall, out of sight from the peephole, and then raps knuckles at the center of the door.
There’s a long silence before a woman asks from the other side, “Yeah?”
“Natalie Sedore?”
“Yeah.”
Jared shuts his eyes long enough for a quick prayer. “Delivery for Natalie Sedore.” There’s the murmur of a TV from within the apartment, and Jared does his best to filter it out and pick up any other noises. He hears careful footsteps and low voices. He knocks again. “Ms. Sedore?”
The door creaks open two inches, and it’s a caramel-skinned woman, early 30s, in the small opening. “Can I see some ID?”
As he reaches for his wallet, intent on flashing his driver’s license, gym membership, anything benign, he keeps his gaze just beyond her and into the apartment, trying to spot Chad Murray. There’s the sharp noise of something being knocked over then someone runs through the living room, just a flash of clothes. Natalie Sedore tries to close the door on Jared but he shoves his foot into the opening and in a quick movement, he gets his badge out, barking, “Police, outta the way.”
She runs off to the right but he can see how she keeps looking left as another body rushes into the back part of the apartment before shutting herself off in a bedroom.
Jared pushes himself against the edge of the hallway, back straight to the wall, and slides slowly to the corner to sneak a peek. He sees the very tip of a blond head then the black barrel of a gun. A split second later, the gun’s fired and Jared folds himself down to avoid the bullet piercing through the plaster wall.
“Murray!” Jared shouts. “You’re shooting at Chicago P.D.”
“Yeah, I know!” Murray yells back. “You think I trust any of you dicks?”
“Put your gun down!”
“You got a gun, too. You’re gonna shoot me.”
Readjusting his crouch, Jared gets a knee down so he can slink closer to the hallway. Murray’s at the end of the hall, shoulder and head sticking out just enough to be seen. “I’m not gonna shoot you, Chad,” he calls out. “But I got other people comin’ who ain’t gonna see this situation all too well.”
When Murray doesn’t answer, Jared creeps to the wall and looks again. Murray’s further into the hallway, arm stretched forward, and gun aimed low. He fires and Jared flinches back, more plaster splitting from the wall.
The still-open front door swings wide open and smacks the wall. Morgan slides into the room, gun drawn. “What the hell you doin’?” he snaps at Jared.
Taking a deep breath, Jared trains his ears on the kitchen, praying Murray doesn’t leave with the distraction. “Girl’s in the bedroom. Murray’s in back,” he says, motioning towards the hallway.
Morgan looks beyond Jared, nods, and then slips to the right, onto the bedroom where Natalie Sedore’s been hiding.
When Jared turns back, Chad’s out of sight and Jared hears the scrape of a screen door being shoved open.
Jared runs down the hallway, making the backdoor just after the screen snaps shut. He pushes it open and takes the winding back stairs, following Murray down. Murray reaches the back alleyway two stories faster than Jared, and by the time Jared hits concrete, Murray’s already rounding the corner and running onto the street. Jared races to catch up and flashes the tiniest of glances to his surroundings.
With his eyes trained on Murray, he runs into the street and right into a moving car. He’s tossed up the hood and into the windshield, hands and face tight to the glass. The shock and pain hit him immediately all while his brain knows to get up and run. As he struggles upright, he looks through the window and sees Jensen on the other side of it, reaching across the front seat to shove the passenger door open.
“Get in!”
Closing his eyes, he rolls to the side and can’t even process the right form of What the fuck? Instead, he stumbles to the street and into the car. Once he has the door shut, he does his best to sit comfortably in the seat and grumbles, “You fuckin’ hit me.”
Jensen punches the gas pedal down, peeling down the street to follow Murray. “Your mom never teach you to look both ways before crossin’ the street?”
“If you’re smiling, I’m gonna smack your damn face.” Jared grimaces at Jensen’s chuckle and at the pain spreading across his back, shooting over his hip.
“You okay?” Jensen asks with a quick look as he takes a sharp turn to follow where he Chad had gone.
Jared props himself up in the seat to keep weight off his side and account for the way the car swings back and forth with Jensen’s speeding and quick turns. “What the hell’re you doing here?”
“Helping?”
Trying to work his phone out and ignore the throbbing in his hand from throwing it into the windshield just a minute ago, he snaps, “You been following me?”
“No.”
“Then why’re you here?” Jared asks as he brings up Morgan’s name and connects the call.
“You think you get to have all the fun?”
Instead of answering Jensen, Jared barks at Morgan, “He’s heading south on Paulina, a few blocks ahead of us.”
There’s a small, haughty chuckle. “Ten seconds too late, kid. We already got him.”
Jared drops his head back to the seat and shuts his eyes. “Thank God.”
Morgan chuckles again. “Oughta work on your speed.”
“Yeah, alright,” Jared grumbles back. “He alive?”
“Relatively so. May’ve tripped along the way.”
Jared sighs, thankful enough that they finally have Murray that he can’t care that Morgan’s likely roughed him up quite a bit.
After a few moments, Morgan asks, “Who’s us?”
“I’ll meet you there,” he says and ends the call, resting his hand and phone in his lap. “We’re dead meat.”
“Why?” Jensen asks
“I said us. Said Murray was ahead of us.” Jared takes a deep breath and pulls himself up in the seat. “Morgan’s got him and they’re heading to the 21st.”
Despite news that the chase is over, Jensen doesn’t slow the car down. He flips his lights and siren and speeds through the next stoplight.
When the car takes a left instead of a right, Jared begins to take notice of their surroundings. “Where’re you going?”
“Hospital.”
“What for?”
Slowly, and with a distinct tone of cynicism, Jensen points out, “You were hit by a car.”
“You hit me with your car,” Jared returns.
“Same difference.”
Jared shifts in his seat to face Jensen, doing his best to hide every shock of pain by pushing his voice out, getting loud and rough. “You don’t take me to the 21st right now, Morgan’ll be on our asses.”
“Like he isn’t already?” Jensen shouts back. “You think he’s gonna let you in that room with Murray? There’s no way in hell he will. You’ll be sittin’ on the other side of that glass, watching them bicker back and forth. And in the end Morgan’s gonna get all the pats on the back and attaboys the department can afford.”
“What’re you talking about?” Jared nearly shrieks. “You’ve been bugging me for days on this case and now you’re not letting me finish this shit up? Don’t you wanna watch Murray get nailed for everything he did?”
With a harsh laugh, Jensen shakes his head. “Right. All he’s gonna do is rattle on and on about a second guy, insist someone else helped him do it. You know how this shit goes. It’s never their fault. Not entirely.”
“There’re pages upon pages of evidence tying Murray to the crime scenes, to all the girls and Price, not mention he was shooting at me and ran. Like he’s gonna get a second of reprieve?”
“He’s gonna blame the cops.”
“Maybe he’ll tell us who his cop is!”
Jensen whips the car around another corner, bringing them onto Cicero, racing past Midway Airport before taking a harsh turn to head east. This time of night, it’s relatively dead, just a few cars filling two lanes in each direction, and even fewer homes dotting the commercial and industrial mix of a neighborhood, hangars and airport facilities lining 55th Street.
Jared keeps an eye on their surroundings, realizing that they’ve far bypassed the possibility of any nearby hospital, let alone returning to the 21st.
“What the hell?” Jared mumbles as he watches buildings fly by.
“It don’t matter what there is on paper. Morgan’s gonna push me into this whole shitstorm and you know Chad’s not gonna back down if he has the chance to nail someone else. He’s gonna tell everyone I was there and I knew about it all along.”
Jared’s voice echoes in the car when he yells, “Why the fuck would he do that?”
The wheels squeal when Jensen takes a sharp right into a gravel parking lot, unlit and empty. Jared watches Jensen as he puts the car into park and falls back in his seat, suddenly looking exhausted.
“Jensen,” he demands, loud and harsh.
“I was there with Price.”
Jared can’t speak, mouth frozen and throat dry.
Jensen rubs fingers into his eyes and sounds even more wrecked than he looks. “He called to talk about everything. The accusations and rumors, about the newspapers. He was trying to see if I could help keep it out of the press. So I met him, by the River there.”
“You serious?” he asks with a croak in his voice.
“Yeah. And Chad … Murray showed up. Had been following me since your place. There was a fight, and the gun went off.”
“You shot Price?”
“No. But I was there. I saw it.”
“What the fuck, Jensen?” he huffs, eyes wild on his partner. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Morgan’s already got me fingered on this. You think I’m gonna give him more ammunition?”
Lifting his hands from his face, Jensen stares forward, unseeing through the windshield.
“Impossible,” Jared murmurs. “You were at my place. You were there when I got up.”
Jensen’s voice drops but still carries at bit of attitude. “Wasn’t much traffic that early in the morning.”
“What else?” Jared asks, scared to even know but having to find out.
“Nothing,” Jensen replies, wiping a palm across his mouth.
“Jensen!” Jared huffs out. When Jensen’s eyes slip closed and his hand still covers his mouth, Jared barks his name again.
Sounding tired, Jensen sighs, “Yeah?” as he slowly turns to face him.
“Nothing else?” Jared demands.
“No,” he says in the same drained way.
“You fucking promise me there’s nothing else.”
With his eyes zeroed in on Jared’s, Jensen takes a deep breath and blinks just once before he nods and suddenly livens up. “Yeah, I promise. Nothing else.”
Jared’s ready to say more, but his phone rings, and with that sound, Jensen moves into action. The car’s thrown into drive and Jensen leads it back onto the street, flipping the sirens and lights, and racing off.
Beaver’s on the line and grumbling, “You best have a good reason to not be back yet.”
Wincing with the movement of the car forcing him to slide into the door every few moments, Jared manages to say, “Does getting plowed by a car count?”
“What the hell’re you doing?”
“I’m headed back,” he says, glaring at Jensen. “Won’t be too long.
“Shit,” Beaver sighs. “You ain’t gonna be walking in here bloody and broken, are you?”
He shifts to look over himself and sighs with the comfort of not seeing anything stained or cut up. “Shouldn’t be.”
“Alright. You better get a move on. Morgan’s gonna take Murray into a room after we process him.”
Jared agrees with it and hangs up, phone lightly held in his sore hand. After a few moments, he quietly asks, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
Jensen chuckles harshly. “What? That I was in the middle of a grand conspiracy with no evidence except for my presence?”
“Yeah. Something’s better than nothing.”
“Next time I’m a serial killing suspect, I’ll let you know.”
Jared rolls his eyes and pushes his head back into the seatback, closing his eyes and praying to arrive to the 21st as soon as possible.

Jared stands on the other side of the two-way mirror, watching Murray stay completely silent and still, staring into what he sees as a mirror, but his eyes are really boring right into Jared’s. Jared crosses his arms and widens his legs, ignoring the twitch of pain shooting from his knee to his hip.
Morgan’s going on and on, leaning over each of Murray’s shoulders as he likes, mumbling down low as he details all the evidence stacked against him.
The door behind Jared opens, but Jared doesn’t move; he keeps his attention on the scene before him, waiting for Murray to crack.
A hand lands soundly on Jared’s shoulder, making him flinch away with the pain. When he spots Welling, he shoves at the A.D.A.
“Finally got the guy,” Welling grins, but it’s ugly and twisted and hits Jared in all the wrong ways.
“Yeah,” Jared says lamely as he rests an arm at the glass and leans against it.
“Where’s your partner?” he asks as he looks into the interrogation room then around the small viewing room they’re in.
Jared only glances over his shoulder before focusing on the interrogation again. “Paperwork or somethin’.”
“He gonna be a while?”
“Probably. Forms for head-on collisions with other police officers tend to have a lot of duplicates,” he says with a wry twist of his mouth.
Welling steps up to the glass, also watching the Murray continue to keep his mouth shut. “You see the inside of an ER yet?”
Jared gives him a long look. “No. A little busy now.”
“Watching paint dry?” he laughs. “Hit the hospital before you let a break or something set too long.”
“I’m fine,” Jared says oddly. “Besides, I told Jensen that I’d–”
“Let me handle Jensen,” Welling suggests in a surprisingly easy voice.
“Why would I-”
“I’m a lawyer. Let me offer a co-worker some advice.”
Jared can only stare. He and Jensen had returned to the station more than an hour ago but as far as he was aware, they’d been in unspoken agreement to not discuss Jensen’s involvement with Price’s death. That they’d remain quiet and develop an answer if Chad eventually names Jensen as a witness to the crime.
Behind Welling, the door swings open and Beaver eyes Jared then the A.D.A. before nodding at the latter. Welling returns the nod and exits the room, leaving Jared in a strong mix of disbelief with Welling suggesting he help Jensen, and confusion with his Lieutenant and Welling holding the silent communication.
Beaver steps up to the glass, hands in his pockets and eyes on the scene in the next room. “Jensen’s got a Union Rep on the way.”
Jared bites the inside of his cheek and takes a slow breath to steady himself and hide the want to sigh and suck in dead air. “What for?” he asks as level as possible.
The long look from the Lieutenant, with surprisingly soft features and lowered shoulders, tells Jared more than he’d have to ask; Beaver knows.
Jared closes his eyes on the fear of what comes next.
Beaver’s words come slowly. “The A.D.A. has some words for your partner before he sees Internal Affairs. A few suggestions. He’ll be fine.”
Jared meets Beaver’s low gaze but then turns back to Morgan’s quiet questioning of Murray. There’s nothing more happening on that side of the glass, but Jared can’t help focusing on it to appear as though he’s not as invested in Jensen’s situation as he really is. “IAD. Not really known for being easy.”
“Jensen’ll be fine,” he says with more force.
He fights the want to find Jensen right then and talk to him, to share a few last words before all hell breaks loose, but he knows he can’t ignore the possibility of bearing witness to Murray finally breaking.

Jared finds Jensen seated on a bench, shoulders leaning forward with his hands clenched between his legs. As happy as he’d been that Jensen had texted to meet, to be able to talk to him and get a read on what Jensen’s up to with his Rep and IAD, the sight is anything but encouraging.
Jensen glances up, pushing himself upright but still looking worn out. “You know how many duplicates an IAD report has?”
He swallows hard then smirks and leans against the edge of a line of lockers just off to Jensen’s left. “How many?”
“Seven. Guess how many the carbon actually works on.”
“Four.”
“Three,” Jensen smiles tiredly. “But you’re close.”
“What’d you tell them?”
Jensen’s eyes slip closed and he grimaces as he rubs the back of his hand over his mouth. “The truth.”
“So, is that it then?” Jared asks awkwardly, wondering why Jensen still looks eternally wrecked.
His laugh is more of a sigh. “Not even. Too much fuckin’ paperwork. And Morgan’s still barking up trees.”
“You talk to Beaver? You tell him about it?”
Jensen nods. “Kinda had to, didn’t I?”
Breathing is suddenly hard, with Jensen so distraught and lost in front of him. Jared tucks his hands into his pants’ pockets and nudges his foot at the edge of the locker he’s still resting against. “I would’ve helped. Somehow.”
“I didn’t want you in this any more than you already were.” Jensen meets Jared’s look dead on. “If something happens, it’s on me. I’m not dragging you down, too.”
Jared nods, licks his lips, and stares on the edge of his shoe against the metal corner of the lockers.
“How’s it going with Murray?”
“It’s not,” Jared returns with a flip of his eyebrow. “That guy’s not opening his mouth for anything. No water, no food. Not even a lawyer.”
“He’s hiding his cop.”
“There was another guy there,” Jared says freely, thankful for the distraction of the case. “At Sedore’s apartment.”
“Yeah, Beaver told me,” Jensen returns with a nod. “Forensics has to pick something up in the place.”
A knock at the door stalls further talk and Hodge slides it open. “Hey, Ackles. Lehne’s looking for you.”
Jensen nods and Jared can only stare at his partner, nerves alight in an instant. When Hodge is gone, Jensen rises with Jared stepping up to him. “Lehne? IAD sent Lehne?”
With a wry smile, Jensen shrugs. “Only the best for the best, eh?”
Jared laughs harshly and unbelieving, mind spinning at the stories of Lehne going through every witness, file and dismissed lead to thin out the Department of troublesome cops.
“I got a few pointers. It won’t be so bad,” Jensen says with his shoulders high in an awkward shrug.
Taking a deep breath, Jared relaxes, remembering Welling’s offer to help out, and figures Jensen’s mood on the situation came from that and Beaver. He’s moderately thankful there’s something to count on.
“Whatever happens, I’m sorry,” Jensen says as he steps up to Jared, arms hanging loose at his side, giving the impression that he isn’t about to face the firing squad. “Seriously. Things have been fucked up between us for a while. Mostly my fault.”
“Entirely,” Jared corrects with a miserable smile, stomach rolling hard at Jensen’s words sounding so absolute.
After a fairly long pause, Jensen amends, “Entirely my fault. Bet you’re glad we weren’t all sunshine and roses. Now you don’t have to see this through.”
Jared narrows his eyes. “Are you fucking with me?”
Jensen shrugs and takes a step back with his hands out in the air. “There’s nothing you have to hang onto, right?”
Jared shoves Jensen into the lockers. He’s ready to swing, to shout, to pummel the hell out of Jensen for his lack of emotion. But he doesn’t read a hint of surprise in Jensen’s face; it seems more like resignation and as though he’d expected Jared to get physical. Jared turns his head, stares at the corner of the room and wills his breathing back to normal, chest tight with anger.
“I’m sorry,” Jensen mumbles. When Jared looks at him, Jensen’s eyes shine with moisture and his mouth twists. “I am,” he says even softer.
Jared inhales loudly then steps up and rings his arms around Jensen, engulfing him in a hug, fingers spread as wide as possible across Jensen’s back. Jensen practically clings to Jared, face pressed hard into the juncture of Jared’s neck and shoulder, arms keeping Jared close. Jared palms the back of Jensen’s neck, holding him in because he can’t manage to let go yet. Not when he knows what – or who – awaits Jensen on the other side of that door.
“You were a dick,” Jared says, words muffled as he rests his mouth to Jensen’s shoulder. “For a long time.”
“I know.”
Swallowing against the emotion and fighting the confession, Jared stalls for a few moments. “I’ve loved you. For even longer.”
Jensen’s head tucks in tighter, betraying the way his arms loosen and his hands aren’t tied up in Jared’s shirt as tightly as before.
“You’ve been throwin’ away a good thing for months now,” Jared says thickly.
He pulls back and regards Jared for a second before he hesitantly smiles. “You’re like a bad penny, you always turn up.” Jared rolls his eyes and breathes out a small laugh and Jensen’s smile grows, even while it’s a tad bit wry. “You go on and figure out what the hell’s going on with Murray. Finish the case. Make me proud and all that bullshit.”
“You’re not getting locked up,” Jared argues immediately. “They don’t have enough to arrest.”
“Stop worrying about me,” Jensen murmurs. “You finish this up. Take care of your case.”
His stomach drops with the realization: Jensen probably won’t be showing up for work the next day, or the one after that. There’s too much tarnishing his fairly clean record. Thanks to this whole debacle, Jensen’s career is over.
“So what now?” Jared asks quietly.
“Now, I go talk to Lehne then grab some shut eye in a cell until a judge laughs at them for circumstantial evidence.”
He sighs. “I meant here, with us.”
Jensen looks at Jared, really looks at him, and takes a deep breath. “You really want something with me? After all this crap?”
Jared shrugs and takes a small step forward, unsure with the whole situation but he’s tethered to Jensen. There’s too much history. “Maybe you were right. It’ll be easier without us being partners.”
“Silver lining,” he smirks. “You were always a positive thinker, eh?” Jensen’s face suddenly drops the act and he appears desperately tired. “Let me focus on this. It’s not like I don’t know where to find you.”
Against every notion he’s racking up, Jared nods and moves out of Jensen’s space. Jensen, surprisingly, reaches out to stroke his palm over Jared’s side, squeezing lightly at his hip as he gives a tiny smile.
“You stay out of this, okay? Don’t need company with IAD right now.”
Jared laughs, stunned with the change in his feelings, and then sharply smiles. “Trust me. You’re all on your own with Lehne.”

When Jared nudges the door open, Beaver looks up in surprise and Jared stares at Morgan standing at the Lieutenant’s shoulder, reading something on the desk.
“This a bad time?” Jared asks with a tight voice.
“Not at all,” Morgan smirks as he stands straight and slips his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.
Jared eyes him as he enters and steps up to the desk before he can manage to look at Beaver. Morgan looks pretty roughed up and weary; Jared’s sure they all do.
“Anyone look at your knee yet?”
Jared looks at Beaver and glances down at his leg just before his boss adds, “You've been limping since you got back here with Jensen.”
“No, I haven’t. Not yet,” he admits slowly. “Anything with Murray?”
“Bastard’s keeping quiet,” Morgan says with a surprising smile.
“And you’re happy with this?” Jared asks, eyes dead on Morgan’s.
“Whichever. We’ve got enough evidence to lock him up ‘til your retirement.”
Jared turns to Beaver and clears his throat. “I’d like to talk to him.”
“Kid,” Morgan starts with a chuckle. “I’ve been talking his ear off since we slapped cuffs on him. He ain’t spilling his high school locker combination.”
“That’s fine,” Jared returns flatly. “But, he shot my partner and then he aimed at me a few dozen times tonight.”
“Yeah, so what makes you think he wants to talk to you?”
“What makes you think he likes facing your ugly mug?” Jared shoots back before he could think better of it.
“Alright!” Beaver barks out, throwing his arms into the air. “Enough outta the two of you.” He looks sharply at Morgan. “You leave my guys alone for two seconds before I start digging through your department!”
Jared makes a small, happy noise and gives Morgan a smug smile.
“And you!” Beaver yells at Jared. “Get the hell outta my office!”
“But, I–” Jared starts to argue.
“But, nothin’. Go talk to Murray, go home, I don’t give a shit anymore. Just stay out of my eyesight.” When Morgan snorts, Beaver rolls his eyes. “I ain’t only talking to him.”

The moment Jared crosses the threshold, a cup of coffee in each hand, Murray notably revives himself. He’s now sitting upright, eyes tight on Jared as he approaches the table and puts the two coffees on the table. Then he looks downright freaked to be facing Jared, especially as his hands fumble in the handcuffs that are fastened to the table, clanking anxiously.
“Long morning, huh?” Jared asks lightly, small smile barely hiding his exhaustion. He pulls a chair out and sits as he grabs a cup and starts drinking.
Murray’s eyes sweep from Jared to the two-way mirror then right back to Jared.
Jared looks over his shoulder to the glass then slowly turns back. “You waiting on something?”
It takes a few moments, but Murray clears his throat and asks, “When’m I done here?”
“We haven’t even started yet,” Jared replies, eyes just over the lip of his coffee as he drinks.
“I already talked to the other guy.”
“That’s an understatement,” he chuckles. “I was watching for a while and you didn’t exactly talk.”
Murray bristles, sitting back only so far with his hands firmly cuffed to the top of the table. “I don’t have anything to say.”
Jared leans forward and smirks. “I think you have a lot to say. I think there’s so much inside you that you want to talk about it.”
“No,” he replies slowly.
“I mean, you’ve been operating in a vacuum this whole time.” Jared puts his cup down and ticks off fingers as he goes on. “Ordered to follow Samantha Price, and you kill her. Go after your ex sister-in-law, and you kill her. Then the neighbor. And then Alderman Price.”
“No way, man.”
“Yes, way,” he chuckles.
“No, I didn’t,” Murray mumbles, shaking his head quickly. “That wasn’t me. Gina, Samantha, no.”
“But the others were?” Jared grins when Murray’s eyes fly right to the glass as if he’s waiting for something to happen over Jared’s shoulder. Jared shuffles to the edge of his chair and leans further across the table, dropping his voice. “Chad, why’d you keep quiet so long? Someone like you wants to tell people how bad-ass they are. I mean, you just up and sang to my partner about all your bull shit. We know you’re involved here. We know it was your gun that killed the Alderman.”
Murray shuts down, eyes flat on Jared, suddenly straight-faced like he was for the entire time Morgan was in the room.
“What I don’t know,” Jared continues. “Is who was with you? Who was at Natalie’s place last night and who’d you fight with?”
The eyes are tight on Jared for a long, silent while.
“Was it the cop you work with? The one who’s got you tied up as a cheap informant?”
Murray ticks his head just a tad to the side. Then he glances at the mirror and straightens in his chair, shoulders and arms rigid in a disturbing fashion.
Jared turns his head far enough to see the mirror in the corner of his eye, and something in his stomach spins with an eerie notion. He stares at Murray, inventorying the guy’s dead gaze, cuts littering his face, fingers busted up in what Jared can assume was the fight in the apartment and later the chase through the streets and subsequent tumble with Morgan as they apprehended Murray.
He narrows his eyes at Murray as he rises. On a whim and to distract himself from saying much, Jared nudges the second coffee within reach.
Murray eyes it and then Jared, but he doesn’t go for it.
“I’ll be back,” Jared murmurs.

“Oh, my God. You look like shit.”
Jared keeps signing in on the forms at the top of the counter and just sniffs instead of snapping back at Tal. He counts up the past day or so and realizes it’s been a good 30-some hours since he’s slept. It’s happened before, but he can usually squeeze in a quick bout of shut-eye somewhere.
His brain is fried but his nerves are flaming with possibilities.
He pushes the clipboard back across the counter and inhales loudly. “Lemme see the Gina Murray file.”
She gives him a long look before she glances down to double check the sign-in. “We don’t have it.”
“Why not?”
“Was transferred to the 21st.”
“What for,” he asks slowly.
She harshly chuckles at him. “Your case maybe?”
His head spins but he manages to grab the clip board back, crossing out a few lines and scribbling in the margin as he requests, “Louise Cooper.”
“21st,” she responds instantly.
Jared slowly brings his eyes up to her, pen in hand, poised over the sheet. “Samantha Price.”
Tal merely raises an eyebrow in return.
“You have any files that I might’ve touched in the last few months?”
She shrugs awkwardly. “Morgan’s got ‘em all.”
“How?”
“It’s an open investigation. His investigation.”
“And mine,” Jared points out, voice dropping into pissy.
“And you’ve been at the 21st for weeks,” Tal fires back. “How’re you cuttin’ me up for this? Go talk to his people.”
Jared clucks his tongue and then, with attitude, flips backwards through the sign-in sheet, page after page after page. He slows as he reaches April then March, pausing when he hits what he’s looking for. He snags the sheet out of the book and walks away without a word.
After trolling the halls for a minute or so, he sees Jensen leaving an interrogation room, face long and shoulders hunched. And Lehne trailing behind.
Jared pulls up and stares, fingers crinkling the sheet in his hand. There’s a moment of reprieve when Jensen glances up and gives a small smile before his eyes find the paper Jared’s holding and he looks interested, eyes wide and searching Jared’s.
“Hey now,” Lehne says, voice rough despite his smile. “Gotta keep a move on here, Ackles.”
“Just two minutes?” Jared asks anxiously.
Lehne checks his watch and rolls his eyes before cocking a sideways glare at Jensen. “You got ninety seconds and you’re not leaving my sight.”
Jensen takes a moment to watch Lehne then Jared, and they move to the other side of the hallway.
“So, what’s going on now?” Jared asks quietly but with nerves littering his tone.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jensen smooths over as he brings his eyes down to Jared’s hand. “What’s that?”
His hand closes tighter into a fist and he waves it a little. “Morgan’s got all the files on his side.”
“And?”
“I don’t know. But Murray’s not talking. And I don’t have the patience to wait for him to crack.”
“Then what? What now?” Jensen asks, eyes wide and voice slightly mocking. “You’re gonna just run through the 21st and snatch up files?”
The very last of Jared’s composure dissipates and he can hear it in his response. “I don’t know. I have no clue what I’m doing right now.”
Jensen looks over his shoulder to Lehne, who’s giving them a tired glance and crossing his arms as he leans against the wall. Jensen turns back to Jared and lightly shakes his head. “They’ve got enough to lock Murray up for four lifetimes.”
Jared pushes his free hand through his hair and sighs as he picks his head up to stare down the hallway. Everything weighs on him: the lack of rest, exhaustion from running all over town for months, pain from the accident. He knows he needs to sleep; he needed it half a day ago.
Another look to Lehne and Jensen’s voice drops, quiet and soothing. “Jay, go home and sleep.” He moves a little closer, hand barely squeezing around Jared’s elbow. “Finish this on a fresh mind.”
“Where’re you going?”
“Wherever Sheriff Buford leads,” Jensen says with a smirk.
“Real funny, Ponch,” Lehne snaps back. He pushes off the wall and approaches them.
“That was the guy with the good hair, right?”
“You two done yet?” Lehne asks, eyes mostly on Jared.
Jensen nods with one last glance at Jared. “Yeah, we’re good.”
Jared watches them leave, Lehne just a foot or two behind and to the side of Jensen, leading them around the end of the hallway and out of sight. When Jared heads in the opposite direction, he sighs loudly, folding the paper into quarters and stuffing it into his back pocket. He threads both hands through his hair, trying to calm himself and find some sense of sanity.
He knows Jensen’s right; he needs to rest, he’s reacting too quickly, too anxiously. Just to end the night, he makes a pass by Beaver’s office, tiredly waves him off, and makes a stop at his desk for a few incidentals.
At the doorway from the bullpen into the hallway, Morgan talks with Harris. Jared can barely hear the instructions for evidence to catalog and for her to stand guard at Interrogation Room until he’s ready to transport Murray.
Jared approaches, gently patting at Morgan’s back as he says, “I’m heading out for some shut-eye. Call with anything good.”
Morgan flinches at Jared’s touch but then nods with a bright smile. “You bet, kiddo.”
As Jared takes a few more steps, he clenches his hand and feels how his palm is slick. When he looks at it, its smudged in red.
He stops and stares at it, knowing instantly that it’s blood. He spins back to Morgan and eyes the dark t-shirt the officer is now in, having stripped away a button-up and jacket from earlier in the evening.
Jared can’t breathe, can only stare with thoughts of Morgan’s back being cut, and he instantly imagines Morgan in Natalie Sedore’s apartment. Imagines Murray shoving the detective into the picture window, the wide glass cracking just as Jared had witnessed.
His eyes drop to his hand again and he rubs fingers over the swipe of blood. When he looks up to Morgan, the detective’s staring at him, eyes dark and intent for just a moment before he ends his conversation with Harris and promptly leaves out the door at the other end of the room, the one closest to the back parking lot.
Cutting down the hallway, Jared finds another stairwell and stomps down it, spinning at each landing before jumping down the final four stairs and rushes down one last hallway before he slams open a door that also takes him to the parking lot.
With the morning sun out, it’s easy to see Morgan rushing through the lot, sliding between cars and heading for his sedan. Morgan keeps glancing around the lot and when he spots Jared, he quickens his step, jogging across the gravel lot.
Jared races through the maze of cars then hops up a hood, running over the top and down to the hood before jumping to the next one and keeping an eye on Morgan running to his car. Four car jumps later and Jared lands right on the hood of Morgan’s car just as the he’s yanking open the driver’s side door.
They’re both panting and glaring at each other, hands hovering near their holsters. As far as trained eyes go, Jared can tell that Morgan’s more than prepared for a quick draw of his weapon and likely knows Jared is, too.
“No easy way outta this one,” Morgan murmurs with a small smile.
“Was about to say the same to you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Then why’d you run?” Jared asks with a growing smirk, adrenaline firing him up. “Guilty men sleep and run. You look pretty fresh.”
“So’s your partner.”
Jared narrows his eyes. “Just a little deflection, wasn’t it?” With the memory of Morgan trying so hard to plant suspicion on Jensen’s involvement, Jared’s anger ramps up. I’m gonna tear you apart when we get back inside.”
Morgan shifts upright to stand straight but Jared keeps an eye on how his hands drop closer to his waist. “Don’t think I gotta worry about that.”
“How so?” Jared asks slowly as he also carefully repositions himself, shoulders hunched in and knees loosely bent for any quick move.
“You got Murray tied up in evidence. Jensen, too.”
“Think I got something more conclusive here.”
Morgan chuckles darkly. “Highly doubt it.”
Jared grins then licks his lips with the excitement running through his veins. “You’re damned well working yourself up for a confession right here.”
“Who’s gonna tell anyone anything? You?” he chuckles as the space between his hip and hand closes. As his fingers stretch for the gun fastened to his belt.
Moving at the same pace, Jared’s palm meets his firearm and he shakes his head. “You’re not the only one out here with a gun.” They both fall silent and Jared takes a long, calming breath. “Thumb and forefinger,” he instructs with authority and amazing composure. “Remove your weapon and drop it.”
Morgan eyes him for a long while then tiredly shakes his head. “You’re a little smarter than I thought.” His fingers curl around the butt of the gun in a way that makes Jared leery, though he tries to not react too quickly.
He keeps his eyes on Morgan’s grip and the second he sees Morgan’s index finger slip forward, when the shoulder flinches forward, Jared draws his weapon and startles at the sound of five quickfire gunshots that aren’t his. Morgan’s arm drops and Jared’s chest heaves with harsh breathing as he catalogs every appendage – nothing hurts, burns, or goes numb. His eyes widen when Morgan drops to the ground.
He refuses to move for a few moments, just watching Morgan before zeroing in on the dark circles spreading at his shoulder, clavicle, the right side of his chest, and two more in his gut.
Instinct comes to him and he kicks the gun away from Morgan’s hand then toes hard at his side, making sure the guy isn’t moving. When there’s no movement and he’s comfortable enough, he looks up and sees Lehne crouched over the backend of a patrol car, gun still aimed at Jared.
Jared raises his hands, gun spinning around his index finger so he can prove he doesn’t have a hold on it as he extends his arm and puts it on the hood.
Lehne stands and chuckles, which should probably ease Jared’s nerves but it does the opposite. He gets amped up and tense, and holds his palms out as the IAD agent nears him. “I didn’t do anything,” he rushes to say. “I didn’t even fire.”
“Believe me, I know,” Lehne grunts out with a shake of his head and a quick glance off to the right.
Coming towards them is Jensen, with his arms at his side but his weapon tight in his hand. His eyes are wide and chest rising high with every breath. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Jared huffs out, nodding. “What the fuck’re you doing out here?”
Jensen looks at Lehne then gives Jared an awkward smile. “Long story.”
“Not sure I’m going anywhere right now,” Jared laughs hysterically. “Twelve hours and I’ve had two guns drawn on me. I’m okay to stop for a lil while and just talk.”
Tilting his head to the side, Jensen looks just beyond Jared, mouth in a straight line. “Plenty of time for talkin’ inside.”
Jared follows Jensen’s sight and spots a dozen or so cops – both uniformed and not – making their way outside. Behind the group, Beaver’s moving forward with his eyes right on Jared.

He’d spent most of the daylight hours with Lehne staring at him from across the table: a three-hour debrief of whatever Jared could recount from that morning with Morgan, both in and outside the station, and a general rundown of interactions with the now-dead detective.
Then Jared was told to go home, and he did so happily, collapsing to the mattress in the same clothes he’d been wearing for the past twenty-four hours.
Despite the exhaustion that allows him to sleep for a little over five hours with minimal movement in bed, he wakes to keys jangling in the deadbolt to his front door.
He’s not embarrassed with the speed at which he sits up in bed; he equates it to heightened senses from having faced the open end of a barrel from one of his fellow officers.
The door sounds slow as it creaks open then keys clank on his coffee table before footsteps sound off, growing louder on their path to the bedroom. Jared steps to the floor and to the side and then he inhales loudly at Jensen peeking his head into the doorway.
And more so at the smooth smile Jensen shoots his way. “You ain’t sleepin’? Figured you’d be out for the week.”
Jared scratches behind his ear as he walks back to the bed. “Funny things happen when you see your life flash before your eyes.”
“Like what?” he asks with the same curl to his lips.
“Every noise is the end of it all,” he admits on a mumble, stretching out on his side with a pillow tucked under his head.
Jensen settles on the other side of the bed with his shoulder pressed into the headboard.
“How’d you even get in?” he mumbles.
Smirking, Jensen replies, “Left your keys in the door. No wonder you’re so jumpy.”
Jared rolls his eyes then keeps them shut.
Jensen gently strokes fingers through Jared’s hair, murmuring, “How’re you feeling?”
“Like I could sleep ‘til I’m dead.”
“Yeah, Lehne’s pretty fierce,” Jensen agrees with a nod.
Jared looks up at him, thinking of all the things Beaver had told him behind closed doors following Jared’s debrief. How IAD had their eyes on Morgan for being involved with the Alderman, for cornering and forcing CIs into doing his dirty deeds, faking evidence and even trapping other officers into helping, covering his tracks, or turning a blind eye. That is, until Price stopped their arrangement and Morgan put Murray into action. Threatened arrest at every turn until Murray wormed his way into the Alderman’s life to find out who knew what about everything. And once they'd convinced Murray that Morgan was gone and no longer able to do a damned thing to get to him, Murray spilled all the beans for a better chance at parole before he hit seventy.
More surprising than Lehne already tracking Morgan for the past year was Jensen’s involvement with IAD.
“How long were you involved?” Jared asks quietly, unable to look at Jensen for too long before dropping his eyes.
Jensen takes a deep breath and then bites into his lower lip before biting at the top one. He finally answers, “Since Samantha Price. Soon after the Alderman came in. He talked to me a bit about what was going on.”
Jared’s mind fires through so many interactions of the last three months, thinking of their tension and fighting, or Jensen’s random disappearances and long hours in evidence. It all makes sense now, but he’s still stung by not knowing about any of it.
“So for all the times Morgan was fingering you–”
“I was watching him,” Jensen finishes.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I couldn’t.”
Jared turns to his back and scratches above his eyebrow, thinking it all over. How all their problems were stirred up when Jensen seemed tied to every bit of evidence, when Morgan was pushing Jensen right into the spotlight – Jensen was busy working a second angle to the entire case.
“What about when Beaver pulled you off the case?” Jared asks quickly, glancing over.
“He was giving me the outsider point of view.”
“He knew?”
Jensen smiles and slides down a bit to be closer to Jared again. “Yeah, of course. But he kept warning you to stay away from me so it wouldn’t be obvious that someone was looking at Morgan.”
“Should’ve told me,” Jared mumbles as he looks back to the ceiling.
He shifts over Jared, forearms into the mattress on either side of Jared’s head so Jared’s forced to look at him. “I couldn’t.”
Jared swallows hard then complains, “You started all that crap just because.”
“Not just because,” Jensen defends.
“Gettin’ all shitty and not answering a single question I had about what was going on.”
“Like I could just tell you what I was doing?”
Shaking his head, Jared turns his away but Jensen’s pulling him right back with a firm hand at Jared’s cheek.
“You think I wanted to be like that?” Jensen asks quietly. “Always fightin’ and stayin’ away?”
“Sure,” he grumbles back.
“It wasn’t a cakewalk, Jared. Walking the tightrope and then us breaking up.”
With a snort, Jared looks away.
“But it was for the best at the time. I didn’t want you to be at risk with Morgan. I had to work on it on my own.”
Jared shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Jensen shuffles closer, chests pressed together and arms a tighter bracket around Jared’s head. He smirks down at him and then kisses him, sure and calm. When Jared reluctantly opens his mouth, neither of them speed up, it just carries on slowly.
Jared lifts a hand to Jensen’s back and then he slips away just a few inches back to look at him. They watch each other for a long while.
The first one to break is Jensen, quietly admitting, “I’m going IAD.” When Jared doesn’t respond, he adds, “For good.”
“You’re gonna become a rat?”
“I’ll be one of the good guys,” he shoots back with a smile.
Jared’s fingers flick away from Jensen’s back as he stumbles through asking, “So what about, what happens now? We’re not even partners anymore?”
“There’s talk of you gettin’ a new one, yeah. I wouldn’t leave you in bad hands.”
His gaze slips down Jensen’s face before walking right back up to meet Jensen’s eyes. “I doubt IAD can fraternize any more than a homicide detective.”
“Just gotta be more discrete,” Jensen mumbles as he dips down for a wet press of his mouth to Jared’s. “Which, I know it ain’t your strong suit …”
Despite all efforts, Jared’s lips began curl up.
“But maybe you could make an effort.”
“Shut up,” Jared grumbles.
Jensen shifts to rest more comfortably over Jared. “You know what you just did?”
“Took your sorry ass back?”
“Besides that,” he smirks. “You solved our four-month-old, quadruple homicide.”
Jared licks his lips and starts to smile. It stays small but he feels it warm his face. “I did. And without you. Did it by myself.”
Jensen lifts an eyebrow. “Need I remind you that you thought Murray acted alone.”
“So?”
“I’m not one to say I told ya so.”
Jared gawks at Jensen then snorts. “Yeah, you are.”
Shifting again, Jensen lowers himself. “I told ya so.”
As Jensen drops down to kiss him, Jared keeps his lips tight to avoid it. When Jensen moves back, Jared glares at him. “You thought he was a loner, too.”
“Yeah, but I knew he was working with Morgan.”
“Did you know he was sleeping with Price?” Jared challenges.
“Well, no-”
“Then I win.”
Jensen huffs and rises to his elbows. “It’s not a contest.”
Jared snorts. “It’s always been a contest.”
Slipping close again, Jensen slides a leg between Jared’s. He settles against Jared and then takes a deep breath. “I can’t wait to start IAD and get away from your smug face.”
“I can’t wait for a new partner,” Jared shoots back. “We’ll get shit done in less than a week.”
Jensen smirks. “I can’t wait for your partner either. You’re gonna be miserable.”
“You know who it is?” Jensen’s hum as he nuzzles Jared’s jaw sets him off. “Who is it? You know, don’t you?”
“Don’t wanna ruin the surprise.”
“From now on,” Jared says a bit firmly. “I’d like it if you stopped hiding shit.”
Jensen takes a deep breath and his eyes are suddenly gentle. “Being in IAD, I’m gonna have to keep some things quiet.” Jared keeps staring and Jensen nods lightly. “But everything else, I promise.” Then he smiles. “After you get your new partner. Because it’s gonna be awesome.”
“For me?” Jared asks skeptically.
“For me.”

It’s been nearly forty-eight hours since he last set foot inside the station, having been given the rest of Sunday and all of Monday to rest. Beaver had actually instructed him to stay home Tuesday, too, but Jared’d argued against it.
He just wants to move forward, keep going, forget that one of Chicago’s supposed-finest had aimed a gun at his chest.
“Padalecki!” Beaver barks from his office.
When Jared moves back into view of the open doorway, he gives a hesitant smile. “Yeah, Lieu?”
“Thought I told you keep your ass at home?”
“You did,” he admits as he walks closer. He leans at the doorframe then puts on a grin for no purpose other than to attempt to fall back into normal banter. “Just too excited about my next big case.”
“Christ Almighty,” Beaver sighs. Pulling his glasses off and dropping them to his desk, he stands and then rounds the room to nudge Jared out of the doorway so he can enter the bullpen. “Stop being so cheery. You’re foolin’ no one.”
Jared follows as Beaver approaches Jared’s desk, which is bumped up against a miraculously clean desk. One that used to be littered with all of Jensen’s things and various files and casework. Even as they wrapped up cases, they were still drowning in paperwork.
“That was quick,” Jared sighs, eyes glued to the blank surface, stomach dropping at the idea of Jensen being in another room, another department, another building entirely.
Beaver pats his back in a quick moment of comfort. When Jared meets his gaze, the Lieutenant turns more gruff, like always, and kicks at Jared’s desk. “I want this thing cleaned. And soon. You don’t got anything on your plate right now. And for good reason. You’re a pig and it ain’t gonna pass for good enough much longer.”
A moment after the dig passes over him, Jared smirks, feeling everything ease back like it was weeks ago. “I missed ya, Lieu.”
“Whatever,” Beaver grumbles as he steps away. He stops in the middle of the room and points at Jared. “Tomorrow morning, your new guy’ll be here.”
“Yeah, who?” Jared asks.
“Pellegrino.”
“What?” he nearly shrieks.
Beaver cocks his head with a sly smile. “Guy’s killer on the Special Crimes circuit. I think you’ll do just fine with him.”
“Yeah, but,” Jared argues as he recalls past gossip about a crazed detective who made Collins look sane.
“You’ll do fine,” Beaver says with finality and goes back to his office, shutting the door.
With a low sigh, he turns back to his desk and stares between his mess and the blankness Jensen’s left behind.
“Hey,” he hears from the far end of the room, and when he looks up, Jensen’s hanging in the doorway. And he’s got an easy grin on his face, which, while new, is quite comforting. “You hungry?”
“You kidding?” Jared laughs, thinking of all the times he randomly puts away food. Just ‘cause it’s available.
Jensen nods off to the side and grins even wider, eyes bright. “You comin’?”
He glances at the two extremely differing desks, over to Beaver’s office, and then back to Jensen. “Yeah, of course.” When he reaches the doorway and follows Jensen out, he sighs. “Not like I could do anything without a partner.”
“Who’d you get?”
“Pellegrino,” Jared mumbles miserably.
Jensen bursts into laughter, shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his face.
Jared immediately shoves his shoulder into Jensen’s, complaining, “You can’t laugh at this. It’s all your fault.”
“No. No, really, you’ll be good,” Jensen replies, barely hiding his amusement.
He sighs roughly and shakes his head. “Again. All your fault.”
“He’s not so bad.”
“Isn’t he the one who recites Miranda rights to the Star Spangled Banner?”
Jensen laughs again then pats at Jared’s back, rubbing lightly at the end. “Just once. But yes.”
Jared rolls his eyes. “This better be one hell of a lunch.”
“Mr. Sub?”
He eyes Jensen, trying to gauge having a cheap sub that he knows Jensen won’t care for – and will likely complain about –versus not having lunch with Jensen at all.
Jared shrugs. “I guess it could be worse.”

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