beanside | Fic: Trace Your Hand

Happy Winchester Day! Here's some more Deathknell to hold you over until the ep tonight. *grin*

Title: Trace Your Hand
Rating: R
Authors:

nilchance and

beanside
Disclaimer: Never happened. This is all fiction.
A/N: Thanks to

topaz119 and

embroiderama for their as always awesome beta.

"You're leaving?" Tom asked. "Wanna help me fill out paperwork?"

Jared grinned, flicking Tom's eyepatch gently. "Fuck no. Besides, the UN doesn't want to hear from me. They want to hear from the guy who lost their best lead."

"Like you would have done any better," Tom snorted.

Jared smiled, taking the sting out of his earlier jibe. "Nah. I'd have done the same thing. What else could you have done?"

"Thanks, Big Jay."

Jared headed out the door, whistling as he passed Kane's door, just to be obnoxious. Kane had been a real bugger all afternoon. He'd gone out for lunch at the cafe, and come back in a foul mood.

Not that Chris was ever sunshine and light, really.

Traffic wasn't bad, despite the thin layer of snow that had fallen, but Jared was still glad for the all-weather tread drive on the transport. What amounted to an inch, maybe two, down in the city turned into eight inches as he started up the winding road home.

Hopefully, Jeff and Jensen had made out okay. Jensen still seemed a little skittish around Jeff, which really wasn't surprising. Jeff had a certain air about him; a commanding presence. Sophia had taken a while to get used to him, too.

The house smelled heavenly when he pushed the door open. Warm scents rushed to meet him. Unsurprisingly, so did Bisou, dancing around his legs and begging for attention.

A moment later, Jensen's head popped out of the kitchen, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Jared grinned at him. "I like the new specs, man."

Jensen touched them self-consciously. "Thanks. Apparently, I'm pretty blind."

"They look good."

Another little shrug. Jensen shifted his weight from foot to foot for a moment, and Jared had that weird feeling that he was measuring. Calculating what he wanted to say. What face to offer Jared.

"I made dinner," Jensen finally murmured. "Nothing big. Just... food."

"Cool. Smells awesome." Moving slowly, giving Jensen time to pull away, he lifted his hand to rumple the short hair. "Thank you. You're going to spoil us."

Jensen ducked his head, but the smile touching his lips seemed genuine. "I like cooking."

"That works well. I like eating," Jared teased. "So, how was your day?"

"Busy."

"So I see."

Jensen's eyes flicked behind Jared, then back. A second later, warm arms slid around Jared's waist. He grinned, leaning against Jeff and tilted his head back for a kiss.

"Hey, sweetheart," Jeff rumbled. "How was work?"

"Nightmare," Jared groaned. "The UN is up our collective asses about shit. Tom found one of the guys who killed Jonas, though."

"Really?" Jensen asked.

"Dead in a trash bin next to the market."

Jensen paled, eyes flicking to Jeff. "The market?"

"Yup. Dude, whoever killed the guy was a pro. Straight thrust into the lungs. Guy choked to death on his own blood without ever making a sound--" Jared broke off as Jensen's eyes widened. "Sorry. I get a little too hyped on coffee sometimes."

Jeff's arms tightened. His body was tense behind Jared's. Must've been a long day with Jensen, trying to earn his trust. Jared didn't doubt it was frustrating. "Don't worry, Jen. Canada's really pretty safe."

Comparatively speaking. There were still slavers dragging refugees across the border, not to mention whatever undercurrents that had allowed Jonas to be executed at the Agency's doorstep.

Jared stroked Jeff's arms and smiled at Jensen. "Besides, we won't let anything happen to you."

Talking to any recovering slave was like walking through a minefield. Apparently he'd tripped something, because Jensen looked away, his expression shadowed. "I should check the rice."

Jeff's arm tightened around him. "Got a minute, baby?"

"Of course I do." Jared turned in his arms, pressing a kiss to Jeff's stubbled jaw. "What's up?"

Jeff smiled, but it looked forced. "Just a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about." He pulled away, and headed for the bedroom, Jared trailing behind him.

"Okay," Jared said, as soon as they reached the bedroom. "Is something wrong?"

Jeff closed the door behind him. "Yeah. It is. Have a seat."

Warily, Jared lowered himself onto the bed. "Jeff, whatever it is--if you changed your mind about the wedding thing--"

"Ssh." Jeff looked down for a long moment, then met Jared's eyes. His voice wavered a little. "You know how much I love you, right?"

Fear settled in Jared's stomach, sour and acid. "I love you, too. Baby--"

Jeff made a sharp, silencing gesture. He swallowed a few times before he could manage, "My name isn't Jeffrey Morgan. Jeffrey is my middle name. Morgan was my grandmother's first name."

Jared's throat felt like it was closing. Morgan? As in--

Reading Jared's expression, Jeff winced and looked down. "My name is Matthew Jeffrey Dean."

For a moment, Jared couldn't breathe. "What?"

"Yeah." Forcing himself to look up, Jeff met Jared's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Shock only carried you so far, Jared realized. And when that bled away, something else surged into it's place. His voice came out in a dangerous growl. "And after five years, you're just telling me this?"

"There's more. Morgan--We were in Australia when the plague hit. By the time we got back,Chancellor had taken over. So my grandmother sent me away, on the run. I had bodyguards until I was eighteen, but since then... Morgan kept slaves. I mean, that's public knowledge. But they weren't just decorative. She trained them to spy," Jeff stumbled, then bit off with hard self-loathing, "to whore for her. It was their information that kept me a step ahead of Chancellor's death squads."

Breathe, Jared, he coached himself. Just breathe.

Jeff kept going, driving over the last five years of their lives. "Christian was her first slave."

Jared nearly gave himself whiplash, turning to look at Jeff. "Christian knows?"

"Yeah. He found me after Morgan freed him. She had two other slaves. Nikki, who she used for the uptight politicians that only liked little girls, and..." Jeff met his eyes. "Jensen."

"That's why Chris was worried? He was afraid he'd hold your grandmother against you?"

"After she died, he was supposed to come to me. Instead my half-cousin Edward took him and Nikki. I tried to get them both out. I paid Edward the equivalent of their net worth for the next twenty years, whatever he wanted. While I was making offers, he decided I wasn't going high enough. He started sending me pictures of Nikki after he'd beaten her, of Jensen's back after--" Jeff stopped, his expression distant, then shook his head. "Never their faces, or at least not before he'd made them unrecognizable. Apparently one night he slipped, hurt Nikki too badly. Killed her. I didn't find out until years later, but that was around when he accepted my offer and said he'd send them over." Jeff gave a bitter smile. "Instead he sold my location to the military. They sent assassins. I was lucky to get out alive."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jared heard his voice shake and had to look down, away from Jeff and the plea naked on his face. He swallowed against the pain choking him, against the rising anger. "Why now?"

"Because it's not safe." Jeff rose and began pacing, restless and caged. "They've found me again. Jensen was sent here to kill me."

Jensen. Jesus, Jared should've seen it; he was a field agent, Jensen was in his home. The sweet shyness, the flashes of bitterness, his flashbacks in the kitchen, his attempts to cook and clean and serve, the nightmare that put him alone with Jeff in the middle of nowhere-- Jensen had been the 'perfect' recovering slave, at least according to someone who had never been there.

"And he's still here?" Jared demanded. "Jeff, he's a killer."

"He's a person," Jeff shot back. "One who was sold as a child, one who I left behind. And they're using him, like Morgan used him. They've got an implant on him, and Kane thinks it's a scorpion. He doesn't have a choice. He, Kane and Nikki are the reason I'm still alive. I owe him better than to just kill him or toss him over the border to be executed."

"What do you owe me?" Jared asked quietly. "What, I was just supposed to wake up one morning with your body next to me?"

Jeff flinched. "I wasn't going to let him kill me, Jare. I've been watching him. What the hell was I supposed to do?"

Jared thought of seeing Jensen's face in one of the US broadcasts of executed traitors. Whatever satisfaction there was (for hunting Jeff, for lying, for tearing Jared's goddamn life apart), it drowned under wrenching sickness.

"How did they find you?" Jared said, once he could force words out. His mind was scrambling, assembling puzzle pieces: the lies Jeff had told, the scars he couldn't explain, the evasions. "No-- they sent Jensen home with me. They knew I was with you, how did they-"

Jeff was silent.

Jared's hands clenched in the bedspread. "The raid," he said finally. "I had a picture in my wallet. Jesus. Jesus, it's my fault-"

"No," Jeff said, authority hard in his voice. "No, Jared, it would've happened no matter what. I dragged you into this, I should've-" Jeff reached out to touch him. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm so-"

Jared knocked his hand aside. The anger was clean, and pure, and good. He could trust it. He could feel strong there. "No," he said, and his voice was strangely calm. "No. This is insane, Jeff. Except that you're not even Jeff. Matthew. Was anything real? Or was I justconvenient? Was I your eyes on the other side of the border?"

"No, God, Jared. Of course not. I love you--"

"And I'm supposed to believe that. Believe that you're not just like Morgan, sending me out to get your info? I guess I should be grateful that you didn't feel the need to whore me."

Jeff looked at him like he was bleeding inside, and Jared wanted to touch him. Wanted to hold him, kiss his mouth, tell him it was okay. But it wasn't, and he loved Jeff enough not to lie.

"No," Jared said again, getting back to his feet. His mind still raced in circles. "I need to leave."

Jeff didn't step back out of his way. "Jared," he said, his hand still hovering where Jared had pushed it, "it's not safe. Don't do this."

"You're not safe right now," Jared said. "Not from me. Get the fuck out of my way."

Jeff stepped back, eyes downcast, and Jared surged past, out the door, to the transport, down the mountain...just away.

He was halfway to town when he finally pulled over, shaking, breath coming in hard gasps. Jesus. Five years. Five years of lies. Of not knowing who was laying next to him in bed. Of not knowing what was behind the shadows in Jeff's eyes.

Five goddamned years.

Jared took a steadying breath and headed for the city.

Dorky's Bar, the local watering hole for most of the law enforcement types, was buzzing as always. Jared slid in, grabbing a seat at the back of the bar and ordering up a mug of Patrick's finest rotgut ale. His center of gravity was gone; everything else felt surreal. Fake. What else had been a lie?

"For a man who's getting married tomorrow, you look pretty rough," Kane drawled, sliding into the seat next to him.

"Fuck off," Jared said, staring at the foam like it held the answers.

"Problem, Padalecki?" Christian asked mildly.

"How long?" Jared asked. "How long did you plan on lying to me about Jeff? Oh, I'm sorry. About Matthew."

Kane slammed his mug down with a growl. "Jesus fucking Christ, Jared. Don't-- you're not a fucking amateur."

"Well, excuse the fuck out of me. It's not every day that a guy learns that his fiance is-"

The punch took Jared off guard, sending him sprawling off the stool. Before he could recover, he heard Christian apologize to Patrick, telling him that Jared had drank too much. Then, hard hands were on his arms, forcing him out the back door into the night.

"Jared, I love you like my brother, but I have not wasted twenty years of my life to keep him safe to have you wreck it in one night." Kane shoved him against one of the walls and held him there, one hand on Jared's throat, one in the center of his chest. Any way that Jared tensed to move, Kane would notice. Any counter that Jared knew, Kane had taught him. From the look on Kane's face, he knew it, but was too pissed to be particularly smug. "Do you think this is a game, Jared? If they find Jeff, they will kill him. Unless they decide to bring him back to the US and tear him to pieces real slow. Is that what you want?"

Jared tore his eyes away from Kane's and fixed them over Kane's shoulder. "No."

Kane shook him once, hard. "No what?"

"No, sir, I don't want him to die." As the words spilled out, Jared felt his stomach twist. He'd never worried over Jeff, homebody artist,everybody's buddy. If one of them were to bite it, Jared's odds had always been on himself. Now? Now Jeff might die because Jared had brought the wrong slave home. "Why is Jensen still breathing?"

Kane sighed. "Because Jeff's a sentimental dipshit. And so am I, apparently. He's dangerous, but if we take him out of the way, they'll send somebody else. Somebody that Morgan didn't train."

"Can you explain why that should make a difference? She whored you."

"She protected us," Christian said, voice like a whipcrack. "She made sure we were fed, and educated, and taken care of. If we were hurt, we had medical care. When she sent us out, it was for a reason beyond some sick son of a bitch getting his jollies. "

"So you were a well-treated whore," Jared said. "Still a whore."

"You know what? Fuck you, Jared. There's a difference." Kane shook his head. "Look. I'm not arguing about this with you. Jeff fucked up. No questions. He should have told you. I don't know why he didn't. Though I have a feeling it was some weird attempt to pretend that he's just a normal guy."

"Everything has been a lie."

"Oh, Jesus," Christian muttered, rolling his eyes. "Could we drop the drama? If you want to blame someone, blame me, too. I'm thedumbass who told Jeff that it was safe to fall in love with you."

Jared stared wide-eyed. "I wouldn't--"

"That's up to you, isn't it? He hurt you. Now it's up to you. Marry him, or don't; love him or not. Open your mouth, or not. You could make a lot of money, if you wanted. Tabloids would eat this shit up." Christian shook his head. "I can't stop you without killing you."

"And you won't kill me," Jared snarled. "Forgive me if I don't believe that."

"Jeff already called me. He figures whatever you do, he deserves it." Kane shrugged slightly. "I'm hoping you're not the same guy who came over that border. That you've got your temper under control. Otherwise..."

Jared stared as Kane walked away, only realizing that he was shaking when his teeth chattered.

Jeff. Was the rightful President of the United States. It was almost too much.

He'd known that Jeff had secrets. But somehow, he was thinking along the lines of a wife, maybe kids somewhere. Or some sort of delinquency in his youth. Not...this.

Not that Jeff was the most dangerous person in the world for the US. And the most endangered.

Kane wasn't kidding. The administration would kill him. Slowly. Painfully. Jeff would probably beg for death long before it came.

The mental image of the last execution he'd seen came to his mind vividly, and Jared gagged.

He slid down the wall slowly. Jesus, what was he going to do?

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