This Long Silence: Part Five

[dugindeep]

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Danneel acts professionally, yet Jensen can read the nerves in her quick glances between him and Jared, who sits across the room on another gurney. Her discomfort is obvious the few times her fingers stumble with cleaning his shallow wounds and placing bandages, but he can’t really blame her, seeing as she’d been called in just to clean them up. Her short questions go mostly unanswered as Jensen has far too many I don’t knows in reply, not daring to start any nightmares for her.

He watches Bethany, the on-call, overnight nurse, tend to Jared the entire time. He tries to ignore the shape Jared’s in: face battered, shirt collar cut to give Bethany more room, and eyes blank and pointed at his lap. No matter what’s asked of Jared, or how long Jensen watches, Jared doesn’t do more than nod or shake his head as he keeps his eyes down.

Jensen aches with Jared’s pain. He wants to sit next to him, comfort him, reassure Jared of everything one needs to not be this despondent. But he knows he can’t. He decides to focus on Danneel’s care instead.




Jensen’s not home for two minutes when the doorbell rings. He’s just reached the top of the stairs, but he spins at the landing and marches right back, boots thumping on the way down. They’re heavy and feel more uncomfortable than the thick uniform he hasn’t lost yet. Polyester serves him no favors on these hot summer days, and he loathes having to wear it for a second longer than required.

He pulls the door open and rests his arm against it, hand reaching above his head to hold it in place. He’s ready to sigh and frown at Jason or Danneel or even Maggie wanting to keep him from decompressing from his day, any one of them trying to drag him out for a dinner just so he’s not alone. But he puts away the morose feelings and stands straight with his heart speeding up at the sight of his new neighbor.

“Hey, hi,” Jensen says quickly to Jared’s hesitant smile. “Hi there.”

“Hey right back,” Jared replies with a chuckle. “Sorry if I’m bothering?”

“No. You’re no bother,” Jensen insists as he subtly takes in Jared’s appearance. Even with the flattest of flip flops, Jared is absurdly tall, and casual with khaki shorts worn pale and a navy blue v-neck that not only brags for his tan but also taunts Jensen for all that he can see of the dip in Jared’s throat, glistening with perspiration. Jensen feels a lump in his own throat and swallows through it as he pushes the screen door open and steps onto the porch.

He just barely avoids Jared’s eyes, all so he can get a handle on his knee-jerk reaction to his neighbor on the porch. “What can I do you for?” he asks easily then bites into his lower lip to keep from visibly cringing.

Jared’s laugh is light and breathy until it’s cut off in shock as he stares at Jensen’s shirt.

Jensen glances down at his uniform and spreads his hand over his chest with worry that he may have spilled coffee or dripped lunch when he had no clue. But he doesn’t see a thing. “What?”

Jared’s eyes are aimed at the badge on Jensen’s chest, and his eyebrows go high with awkward surprise. “You’re a cop,” he says oddly.

“Well, no-”

“I moved in next door to a cop,” Jared laughs to himself as he licks his bottom lip and starts to spin away, only to snort again. “It’s like I’m just asking for trouble.”

Jensen’s breath catches first at the image of Jared’s tongue flicking out and then at the way his tan arm flexes when he reaches up to push hair away from his face. Jared’s words finally register, and Jensen chuckles awkwardly. “Actually, I’m the Sheriff.”

Jared lets out a fractured kind of laugh and when he shifts to the side, Jensen can finally spot two beer bottles clutched between long fingers of the hand Jared had been keeping just behind his hip.

His cheeks are flaming at the thrill of Jared coming by and the gesture of those beers. Jensen motions towards the bottles and tempers his smile into a slight smirk. “Those aren’t open now are they? I could haul you downtown for that.”

“Is it considered bribing an officer if I was about to offer you one?” Jared tries with a hesitant look.

“God, I hope not. I’m pretty thirsty,” Jensen returns with the tip of his head.

Jared’s sight drops lower and he suddenly looks worried, possibly spooked. His lips curl in and Jensen can tell he’s struggling to say something. Or maybe not say anything at all.

Jensen backpedals immediately, afraid he’s gone too far or talked too soon. For all that he tries to read Jared here, he’s sure he’s looking too much. “It’s not a big deal,” he says, aiming to brush it all off. “I should probably head in and get something to eat before drinking,” he adds, a bit lamely, he’s afraid.

“No, it’s just,” Jared mumbles as he points the beers towards Jensen’s waist.

His firearm is still in his holster, and with Jared’s reaction, he’s embarrassed for it. “Oh, the gun?” he asks quietly with his hand covering the butt of it.

“I’m sorry, it’s dumb, but I just don’t really care for them,” Jared rambles. “It’s probably stupid to admit to you, being the Sheriff and all, but it’s just-”

“No, don’t worry,” Jensen assures him, fumbling with the best exit from this moment. “Give me five and I’ll be back down and dressed more like you, or something,” he chuckles to himself. He hardly believes he could look as good as Jared does so laid back in this moment, but Lord help him, he’ll try.

Jared bites into the corner of his mouth and slowly nods; it’s an image much too young for his height and build.

Just seconds into his bedroom, Jensen’s rushing to dress down, gear going on top of the dresser and he stops and reconsiders it right there. His mind starts running through all possibilities of how to better store it all now that he knows Jared will halt at the first sight of it. Later, he tells himself and yanks his uniform off. He starts to sweat with the hurry, and he has to stop, stare in the mirror, and breathe slowly to calm down. He tells himself to relax, that it’s just a beer. Just a drink on his front porch with his neighbor.

The neighbor he can’t stop thinking about.

He curses himself for refocusing on that, and forces himself to comb through the other drawers for a shirt and shorts. He settles on the thinnest polo he owns, threadbare from too many washings, but it’ll look good, feel soft, and keep him comfortable in the summer heat. It has a collar that grants him more confidence than any faded print or ring-collar tee he owns. He blames the job for that complex, but he can’t waste more time thinking it through. He’s already put far too much effort into this than need be.

Just before the front door, he skids to a stop and looks in the foyer mirror. He runs his fingers through his hair, roughing up the professional side part, and nearly matting it forward and down just to look less like the Sheriff and more like Jensen, a man in his thirties who barely knows his neighbor but is already smitten.

Oh God. He lightly punches his forehead to smack those thoughts back into hiding and takes a deep breath to relax.

When he steps onto the porch this time, Jared is seated on the top stair with one beer already opened in his hands while the other sits next to him, waiting for Jensen. Neither says a word, but they exchange a few glances as Jensen sits beside Jared and takes the beer. He lifts it towards Jared and they clink them together with a smile.

After a few quiet sips, Jensen dips his head down, thumbnail cutting under the label on the bottle. From the corner of his eye, he sees Jared looking over occasionally. But it takes a while for Jensen to muster up anything to talk about. He squints out into the sky above where the sun is aiming to disappear but is still too bright to look right into. Jensen almost wishes he’d grabbed a hat on the way out, but when he can see Jared eying him again, he’s glad his view is clear.

“Sorry about the gun,” Jensen finally says.

“It’s okay,” Jared replies quietly before taking a long drag from his beer.

“I usually take it off upstairs,” he explains quickly. “I’d barely gotten in inside when you showed up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jared says with a bit more strength to his voice. “It’s your job and all. Just, I hope you don’t expect everyone to love guns, right?”

There’s a tightness to the words and Jensen waits for the tension to dissipate before he chances getting to the base of Jared’s stress. He’s got a feeling on this. “I wear one because I have to. I’m not in love with them myself.” Jared nods and Jensen finds himself fumbling for more words and blindly ambling on. “With the right training it’s not so much a weapon as it’s a method of protection.”

“No, I know,” Jared replies quickly with his eyes resolutely placed ahead of him.

There’s no going back, so Jensen finally asks, “Did something happen before? To make you not like them?”

Jared runs a hand through his hair, pushing it off both sides of his face as he takes a long breath. “My family’s big on hunting.”

“And you’re not,” Jensen guesses.

“And I’m not,” he says with a nod, and Jensen nods and drinks slowly. He doesn’t bother to force it but Jared goes on, voice quiet and low. “My dad and brother kind of bullied me into learning how to shoot and going with them. I’d go with just to spend time with them. We were all real close. But after a while, they pushed a gun into my hands. The first trip like that, I shot a deer. They were over-excited, and I wanted to cry the whole ride home.” Jared releases a soft, angry laugh. “Pretty embarrassing, you know?”

Jensen gives him a soft frown and sympathetic glance, but wisely stays silent.

“Since then, I’ve been set against them. Seeing that animal drop,” Jared says bitterly, shaking his head.

He knows the feeling, no matter how many different weapons he’s held in his life. “I was in the Army, Desert Storm,” he admits quietly, thumb rubbing at the torn label he’s been scratching at. “I don’t like them that much either. Not anymore. But it comes with the territory. Comes with protecting people, which is what I get out of the job here.”

When it’s been quiet far too long, Jensen looks over and Jared’s watching him, eyes careful, but turning warm the longer they share the look. “Anyway,” Jensen says with as light a voice as he can manage. “Heavy business for a second impression,” he chuckles. “I bet you’re regretting coming by now.”

Jared breaks into laughter, a sharp change from their conversation and Jensen holds onto the sound of it and the vision of Jared’s broad smile. “Not at all. Cozying up to the Sheriff is the best bet in town. Or so I hear,” he adds with a wink.

“It’s more like an investment,” Jensen says with his beer to his lips, trying to hide the smile he can’t stop.

“Good thing I’m patient.”

Jensen chances a quick glance and Jared’s eyes are elsewhere, but he’s doing much the same: holding the lip of the bottle to his mouth as he grins.

The beers are finished soon enough, and he and Jared are set to end the moment. They haven’t run out of subjects, though they haven’t exactly attempted to broach many either. The pauses between conversation are comfortable as the sun sets beyond Jared’s yard.

Jared stands first, knees cracking and back popping as he stretches. His movement reveals a sliver of tan skin just above his waistband, not far from Jensen as he’s still seated.

To avoid any major embarrassment, Jensen bites into his tongue so he doesn’t lick his lips inappropriately or say something worse, and he stands with a hand out. “Thank you for the beer,” Jensen says. “And for stopping by.”

They shake hands, warm palms pressed tight and eyes friendly with gentle smiles. “We should do it again.”

“Definitely.”

Jared holds the shake but doesn’t say anything. His hand slides from Jensen’s as he steps away and down the front stairs, glancing over his shoulder as he crosses the yard, and Jensen waits until Jared’s inside to move. He scrubs fingers into the back of his head and curses himself even as he grins over the evening.




Jared’s patched up first and led from the room by Bethany. Jensen sighs heavily as Danneel keeps working on the marks across his left arm and inspects the early signs of bruising along his neck. She makes a small sound but refuses to look at him.

“He tried to choke me,” he explains softly.

“Why?” she asks, keeping the room as quiet as possible.

Jensen tips his head up and his eyes comb the stark white ceiling tiles as she applies ointment to a few scratches near his jawline. “No clue.”

“That’s two people now who’ve gone at you.”

Jensen merely hums in return, completely lost on how to respond.

Her eyes flicker up to his then back to the mess of his neck as she murmurs, “Good thing Jared was there.”

He shuts his eyes and tries to weigh how good it really was. Jared shooting Hardy – crazy or not – may not compare to the sight of Hardy doing more harm to Jensen.

“He’ll be okay, right?” he asks. “The bite and everything,” he clarifies, well aware that emotionally, Jared won’t be anything near okay for a while.

“It didn’t look too deep, but Bethany would know better than I would.”

It’s far from what he means, but he’s afraid to delve deeper. He starts slow. “How was Theresa when she was here?”

Danneel looks at him, stalling her work just below his ear where he can feel the cold sting of the ointment she’d just applied. “You saw her.”

“She was here for a few hours after I left,” he points out. “Did she say or do anything strange?”

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” Danneel sighs, going back to focus on the scratches along his ear. “She was bleeding pretty bad but hanging on. Fairly coherent considering how much she was losing.”

Jensen isn’t relieved in the slightest. It’s only been an hour since the attack at his house, and there are no signs he knows to look for in Jared. He’s helpless, but he tries to shake the worry from his bones.

He waits until Danneel’s finished, remaining quiet and keeping other thoughts to himself, though he can’t stop the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, or the way his pulse picks up in worry of Jared.

Danneel not-so-subtly holds at his wrist while swiping an alcohol pad over a few knuckles, and he knows she’s checking his pulse. Their eyes meet and he’s nearly compelled to tell her everything he sees in Jared, how often he thinks about him and what those thoughts contain, and how much fear fills him right now for what might happen to Jared.

He wants to tell her just what Jared really means to him, but his mouth refuses to let the words go. He’s never spoken aloud what his true intentions are for his neighbor and he’s never spoken of anything like it before. No one in town knows why the Sheriff is single, except to assume that he’s too good for the women he knows or that he has priorities higher on the list. Over the years, Danneel’s prodded here and there, but a few summers ago, she gave up trying to figure him out. He appreciates that of her. And even though there’s a corner of his mind that wants to talk about it, to have someone to share all these heavy feelings with, he can’t break down that wall and let them out or someone in.

She’s concentrating on her work at his scratched hand when her voice comes softly. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” he replies after a rough swallow.

“You were out of it earlier,” she starts slowly. “Were you thinking about the Army?”

He’s admitted to her in the past that he figures he’ll never lose the memories of his time in the service. She knows they come and go. And now, with all that’s been going on here in town, he can’t stop the flood of Jared. Jared is his only priority.

“Thinking about a lot of stuff,” he says, lifting his gaze to hers. He wonders if she’ll ask anything more pointed. He wonders if he could answer her honestly.

Danneel rubs her thumbs over the final bandage then leans in to kiss his forehead. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispers.

He bypasses any reply beyond a tiny, grateful smile as he stands and asks, “Where’s everyone at?”

“Probably up front or in Recovery?”

He nods, thanking her for her help as he passes, and roams the halls until he finds Jared in an empty, poorly-lit treatment room. There’s no equipment in what’s little more than a closet, just a filing cabinet in one corner and a padded bench in the other that Jensen knows is used for patients to rest on until they’re ready to walk out the door. It’s basically a waiting room to free up patient rooms, but there’s no need for it in the middle of the night.

Jared’s sitting on the bench with his back to the wall and his knees up with his arms draped over them. Jensen approaches with a soft, “Hey,” and joins Jared, sliding next to him. They’re touching completely along their sides, and for all that Jensen wants to clutch Jared’s hand and touch his face and hold him close, he simply leans against him for support.

He knows it’s stupid to ask Jared how he is. The answer is obvious in the absence of Jared’s attention. Instead, Jensen reassures Jared, and himself. “You’ll be okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Abel will get some people down here and we’ll find out what’s going on.”

Jared hasn’t spoken since Jensen’s front porch, and his voice is hoarse for it. “Until then?”

“Until what?”

Slowly, Jared turns to Jensen. “What do we do until then? Until someone comes and fixes the town?”

Jensen bites into his lower lip so hard it burns through his jaw and down to his chin. “For one, I’m not gonna let you out of my sight.”

“We were in sight,” Jared returns pathetically. “I saw it all, and you still almost died.”

“But you saved me,” Jensen says, hoping it will convince Jared otherwise. “We survived, and we’re here and we’re alive.”

Jared rubs at his nose with the back of his hand. He rests his elbow at his knee and presses his face into his wrist as he breathes heavily. “How did Carl get … like that?”

There are theories building in Jensen’s mind but he can’t share them with Jared, not when they could lead to his greatest nightmare of Jared becoming just like Moses, the Franklins, and Hardy. Turning into something that will have to be stopped. “I don’t know.”

For a quick second, Jared rubs over the bandage at his neck. “You think I-”

“You’re fine,” Jensen insists, mostly for himself. “I’m looking right at you and you look perfectly fine.”

Jared turns to him again, eyes searching Jensen’s before they slant away.

Jensen’s sure Jared will break if they have to speak more. He softly strokes over Jared’s cheek, tucking hair behind his ear and brushing back to his neck. “How about you rest? Lay down for a little while until something comes up. We won’t leave here until we have to.”

Shutting his eyes, Jared ducks his head down further but then he nods and shifts when Jensen moves off the bench.

Jensen refuses to leave the room until Jared’s settled as well as can be on the bench, which doesn’t have room for all of Jared’s height, but it’s something. Jensen keeps the door open, turns out the last of the lights, and stands in the hallway, a bit away though not so far that he can’t see the very tip of Jared’s shoe.

When he’s confident Jared will be okay sleeping, he marches through the clinic and locks doors and windows, double checks everything, and tells Danneel they’ll be okay through morning. She and Bethany give odd looks, but let it pass, apparently eased by Jensen’s authority.

Hours crawl by and Jensen checks on Jared in between keeping Danneel and Bethany company. The women skate around talk of what happened at Jensen’s home, how Jared’s doing, or what’ll be done come morning. Jensen’s grateful they don’t push and he changes subjects fast as he can to keep them occupied.

There’s a knock at the clinic’s front door and Jensen shares a look with each woman before he slowly approaches it. He flicks through Venetian blinds to see into the dawn and he’s not sure he’s comforted or ready to panic.

On Main Street, there’s a unit of state guardsmen and a commander is standing on the other side of the door. At least a dozen uniformed men are patrolling the downtown street and Jensen’s hesitant to open the door, even for relief.

When he does, the paranoia prickles along his spine, but he won’t consider himself a fool for it. Stranger things have happened already.

The man on the doorstep, with an inch or two on Jensen and strands of light blond hair tucked under his hat, drops his head in a nod and puts a hand out between them. “Sheriff Ackles?”

“Yes,” Jensen replies without shaking it. “And you?”

“Sergeant Miller,” he answers, glancing at his hand before pulling it back. “Your Deputy’s been making some calls.” Jensen keeps his eyes steady as he catalogs every man in sight. He looks back to the Sergeant and the man asks, “You mind if we step in so we can talk?” as he thumbs behind him to a couple of guardsmen off to his left.

Jensen’s been counting this whole time and for twenty seconds, nothing has changed outside, or in. There are officials on site, ones higher than him, and he should be grateful. It takes another five seconds for him to breathe easy, step aside, and let Miller and his men in.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Jensen says quietly. “It’s been a pretty strange few days.”

“So, I’ve heard.” Miller takes in the room and accepts quick introductions of Danneel and Bethany with a polite smile and handshake.

Jensen feels defensive, still, and takes a wide stance with his hands on his hips, though he tries to appear as casual as possible. “Don’t always know who’s safe.”

Miller nods again then glances across the lobby, eyes pausing at the three doorways that lead elsewhere in the clinic. “Your deputy said there were two of you who were attacked at the house?”

At the thought of Jared, Jensen’s fingers squeeze at his hips. “Yeah. One other guy.”

“I’d like to see him?”

“For what?”

“Just checking all the bases.” He gestures at Jensen’s neck. “How bad did the attack get?”

Jensen absently rubs over his chest to keep from touching his throat. “I’m fine. We both are.”

“Any immediate contact with Mr. Hardy?”

His stomach spins at that and he’s gets lightheaded as he can’t tear his eyes away from the Sergeant. “Why?”

“We’re concerned about transmission. It’s a blood-born pathogen.”

From the corner of his eye, Jensen can see Bethany and Danneel each considering their hands. They’d cleaned up as regulations require, but he can’t blame them for a bit of panic. He’s alarmed enough for them all on Jared’s behalf. “What is?”

“From what I’m told, you’ve seen the Franklins’ bloodwork,” Miller says.

“I’ve seen a lot more than that,” Jensen replies with a tiny huff. “I’ve seen cows torn apart and regular, do-good residents go off the deep end.”

Miller cocks his head and smirks. “So you understand where I’m going with this.”

The way the sergeant says it leaves little room for Jensen to argue without seeming uncooperative. He’s not aiming for that, but he wants to keep Jared sheltered as long as possible. Yet, if it really is passable via blood and wounds, Jensen’s absolutely terrified with what’s possible when it comes to Jared.

“Is there a cure?”

“Sheriff,” Miller replies sternly.

Jensen sighs and shoots back, “I’m just asking if-”

“Most of your town is a threat right now. To you, and your friends,” he says as he motions towards Danneel and Bethany. “Not to mention themselves.”

His mind reels at the thought, that there’s a possibility the residents have all turned on one other.

“Sheriff,” Miller commands again.

Jensen snaps to attention but his voice is apprehensive when he says, “Yeah, alright. He’s in the back.”

As the three men follow, hard footsteps pounding loudly along with Jensen’s heart, Miller asks, “Is he still alive? Contagious?”

“Yes and no,” Jensen replies firmly. He hopes he’s right.

“Are you sure?”

Jensen stalls before the dark room, overwhelmed by the sight of Jared still on the bench. Even more relief floods him when Jared shifts yet remains asleep; he can feel his nerves burn in satisfaction that Jared’s been able to rest for all this time. Ignoring Miller’s latest question, Jensen approaches Jared and crouches beside him with a soft but casual hand lightly grabbing at his neck. “Hey, Jared. Wake up for a second.”

Jared’s groggy and slow as he turns to his back, blinking himself awake and staring at the ceiling. His eyes slide to Jensen before his sight is drawn over Jensen’s shoulder to Miller entering the room.

As Jared drags himself up to sit at the edge of the bench, Jensen stands next to him and makes introductions. He’s not surprised when no one will shake hands – Jared’s off-kilter and Miller’s skeptical. Jensen sets a comforting hand to Jared’s shoulder, squeezing at the curve of it. “Sergeant Miller’s heading up the Guard. They came in to take care of everything.”

Jared looks up to Jensen, his face a dull mask hiding any emotions. When Jensen nods in reassurance, Jared sighs and briefly shuts his eyes as his face twists with relief. “Okay. What do we do now?”

Jensen manages a smile. “Get some stuff at your place? I bet they want to check mine for–”

“Actually, Sheriff, we’d like to talk to Jared. Take him down to our medical center at the fairgrounds.”

“What medical center?” Jensen asks.

“At the county fairgrounds,” Miller repeats easily.

“Since when?”

Miller smiles affably. “Since a little while ago.”

Something tips and Jensen feels on edge, leery in the worst way possible. “How long’s a little while?”

“We’ve been monitoring the situation, Sheriff. Nothing we’re not aware of.” Miller looks to Jared and smiles. “If you’re ready, we’d like to escort you down there and get some talkin’ out of the way.”

Jared glances up to Jensen, barely showing emotion on his face but Jensen can sense the worry.

“Okay, yeah,” Jensen allows as he keeps watching Jared. “I’ll head out there with you.”

“We’d rather you stay here and help direct the men then we’ll get you out of town.”

“Wait, what?” Jared asks worriedly.

Miller seems to ignore any concern and easily says, “We need to keep Jared solitary right now. Check his wounds and keep an eye on him.”

“For what?” Jensen asks harshly. The Sergeant gives Jensen a hard look and Jensen sighs roughly. “No, hang on,” Jensen interrupts before Miller can get another word out. He slides his hand off Jared’s shoulder and motions both hands towards Miller, hoping to negotiate. But his anger flares when the two guardsmen move closer to Jared, one slipping behind Jensen and pulling on Jared’s arm to force him into standing. “Now just wait a minute!” he shouts for attention. “He’s not leaving!”

Jensen’s ready to make a firmer point, but Danneel yells in panic for him from the front lobby, and he’s torn between the two. The honor of the job kicks in for him to take check on the sudden uproar in the front of the building but everything else screams to stay put.

“Sheriff, he’ll be fine,” Miller says calmly. “Our medics will check his wounds and treat anything, and you’ll be safe with our crew heading out.”

The guards take Jared to the lobby and Jensen follows right behind them. He doesn’t know what the answer is here, but then he spots Army medics surrounding Danneel and Bethany. “What’s going on?” he yells as he shoulders his way into the center of the group. From what’s left of the scene, the medics have pricked Bethany and are registering something with lancets placed into hand-held devices.

The man to his right determines Bethany, “Positive,” and two men pull her from the group as another guardsman reaches for Danneel.

Jensen immediately grabs Danneel and shoves her behind him. “No! What’re you doing?!” he demands.

When a guard pushes Jensen away, he shoves right back, and a handful of men rush from somewhere behind him. They’re not just guardsmen; there are true soldiers holding Jensen back from fighting, and next he knows, he’s struck from behind and drops to the floor, sight going fuzzy before black.

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