Regret, 1/1, J2, Pg-13
May. 10th, 2010 02:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vamphileTitle: Regret
Author:Vamphile
Pairing: J2
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1900+/-
Summary For: Allydenise who said in this Meme:
I'd love to see a fic in which Jensen is travelling the waterways of the US in a barge, alone & getting over a loss in his life. He picks up free spirit artist Jared along the way, and Jared begins to put Jensen's heart together again. :o)
A/N: caution, mentions of child death
Thanks to:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anifsemaj
Jensen tried not to moor in the same marina for more than a week at a time. Sitting still made him feel claustrophobic and getting used to a new dock, a new set of neighbors and a new town just sounded exhausting. He’s familiar with almost all of the lakes and rivers that will accommodate his home and he figures in the past eighteen months there isn’t a part of his boat that he hasn’t touched for repairs of some sort, even if it’s just maintenance.
He likes the quiet of the lakes. He likes the solitary and safe feel of the wind in his face, and everything he needs right there with him. He’s a hobo on the water, at least that’s what he tells himself. He’s also clear, in his own head, that he’s not running from anything. He’s sure this isn’t more than just an extended leave of absence from his life.
After the accident he didn’t know what to do with himself. For almost a year he sat in his cold empty condo, went to work, came home and stared at the television 'til it was time for bed.
The legal settlement was huge. The first thing his lawyer said to him was, “now you can do whatever you want.”
He’d left her office and realized he didn’t want to do anything. So he didn’t. And one day, in the middle of not doing anything he found craigslist and saw the ad and the picture of “My Dream”. Someone was selling their dream and Jensen needed a dream desperately. Three days later the transaction was complete and Jensen took everything he’d ever learned about boating and transferred it, letting the previous owner show him a few tips and tricks and he was on his way. His lawyer would handle his “assets” pay the bills, make the investments, and he could just go.
And go he did.
He saw quite a bit of America and thought about almost nothing almost all the time.
He’d changed the name. Jensen didn’t travel and live on My Dream anymore. He lived on Regret.
Jensen wasn’t happy, and he knew it. He wasn’t supposed to be happy, he was mobile and he never had to discuss the accident again. That was as good as it got.
And thus it went until Regret started making a grinding, whining sound when he got her up to full speed. Sighing he pulled into the closest marina. It was only noon, still plenty of time to check the engine and see what the issue was.
A full two days later he had to admit this was beyond his repair abilities. He was hoping the engine wasn’t beyond anyone’s repair abilities. He liked the way she churned and glugged and occasionally whined. Made him feel connected to her and in that moment he realized he’d gotten attached to his motherfucking boat.
He wiped off his greasy hands and went looking for the nearest dive bar. There was always one near a marina.
He ordered a draft and sat in a back corner, downing one after the other until he was more than comfortably numb. The bartender was watching him, and Jensen studiously stared at a drop of condensation trickling down his glass. Refusing eye contact.
A bowl of pretzels appeared on the table. He looked up, up, up. Fucker was tall. “Wha…” was all he got out before the bartender shrugged. “You need something to soak up all that beer. Trust me, much less of a hangover if you eat a few pretzels.”
Jensen pushed the bowl away and dropped some cash on the table. “I’m good.”
“You’re walking, right?”
Jensen ignored the question and staggered back home. Home. This was just supposed to be a bed and a kitchen. There wasn’t supposed to be anything home-like about it. He crashed into his bed and slept to the rocking of the lake and the comforting creak of the boards as Regret rocked with it.
///
Jared's phone rang the next morning. Someone had seen his ad at the marina and needed engine repair. He let out a sigh of relief. Extra money was always a good thing but this month it was sorely needed. He headed out to meet the client, take a look at the damage and see what kind of fix it was gonna be.
There standing in slip 12 was the guy from the bar last night, and behind him was a vast array of pieces and parts that, if assembled correctly, would be the boat’s motor.
Jared introduced himself and climbed on board. “So you tried to work on it yourself.”
“Yeah, I know a little about engine repair.”
“And then you hit a wall.”
The guy, Jensen, ducked his head.
“Well, let me take a look.” Jared already suspected that the motor was shot. It wasn’t these pieces here those he could fix but if there was a crack in the block he’d need a new one, but diagnosing from a distance was never good customer service, and he could be wrong.
He got closer and tinkered a bit. Putting a few parts back together and re-attaching them. He found the issue. “Here’s your problem.”
“Where?”
Jared explained it to him, not dumbing it down, just letting the reality sink in. It wasn’t much of a boat, small bedroom, small kitchen, not a lot of deck space. This is probably where this boat, and this man, would end up. Here, in the Dangling Rope Marina, on Lake Powell, in Utah. He’d find a job, live on the boat and hope one day to get the motor fixed.
He never would. Jared had seen it a dozen times.
Jared finished his speech.
“So how much?”
“Huh?”
“To fix it.”
“It’s going to take rebuilding the whole thing, finding parts, or you could just order a new one for a couple thousand.”
“I don’t want a new one. Can you fix this one?”
“Well, I can do it but it ain’t gonna be cheap. I’m guessing at least a grand on labor alone, plus parts.” He waited.
Jensen nodded. “Go ahead and order it. “That’s…”
“If you can’t do it, someone around here can, right?”
“Right. I’ll go order the parts but I need half down.”
Jensen disappeared inside and came back out with a check. Jared walked away, the check still in his hand.
///
Jensen sat back and couldn’t help feeling betrayed by Regret. She was supposed to get him everywhere he needed to go. She was supposed to keep him going, not the other way around. Regret had been effortless thus far. His fingers itched with the desire to take her out far enough so that he couldn’t see anything but water. He went inside and logged on to his computer, thanked god for mobile Wi-Fi, and sent messages to everyone who kept emailing him little notes filled with worry and care. More than he could stand, or process. He let them all know he was fine. Didn’t bother to tell them where he was and then killed the rest of the day staring at the water.
Two interminable days later the bartender showed up with his tools and a cardboard box full of parts. Jensen watched him work, methodically, carefully. “So which are you?”
Jared looked up, “huh?”
“Which are you, a bartender who works on engines or a mechanic who tends bar?”
Jared shrugged fitting two parts together and checking the seal. “Depends on what day it is I suppose.”
Jensen nodded and went inside to read. He wasn’t sure why he had attempted conversation, he’d never been good at it and now his skills were rusty.
///
Jared was making progress with the motor, slowly, rebuilding it from scratch. He loved doing it, got lost in the way the parts fit together, just like they were machined to. The only disconcerting part was Jensen. He could feel the man staring at him but when he looked up to smile he was engrossed in his book or staring blankly at the water.
“Not much of a talker are you?”
“I like the quiet.”
“Yeah, I’m not like that.” Jared tightened a bolt and continued “I love getting to know new people, that’s why I dig the bartending gig so much. Well, and the tips, but the tips at the Rusty Bucket aren’t that good. I still get to meet new people though….” Jared trailed off as Jensen opened his book and practically hid behind it.
Jared worked on the piece for two weeks, getting a few sentences each day out of Jensen. He knew where he came from, what college he’d attended, what he’d majored in, and even who his first real boyfriend was. What he didn’t know was why a guy with the resources and looks that Jensen had chose to travel around the rivers and lakes in a barge and stay as removed from humanity as possible.
///
Jensen tried the local library, the local bar, the local diner, and everywhere he went, there were people. He eventually gave Instead he resolved to ignore Jared who was on the boat all day, every day, racking up the billable hours, which he knew was an unfair thought. He was truly always working while there. But Jensen was disconcerted by him, by his questions and his easy acceptance of whatever Jensen said. He could have proclaimed himself a brain surgeon, or extra terrestrial and it seemed Jared would nod, keep working and believe him.
Jensen felt something. Not towards Jared, although there was a certain level of chemical attraction He felt something else, like each time Jared’s grease stained fingers put another part of the engine together, he was repairing something in Jensen too.
And so Jensen shouldn’t have been surprised when he admitted to Jared that he’d had a child. That Taylor had been a little over two when his car skidded on the ice. That the car seat was defective. That he walked away unscathed and Taylor, car-seat and all, crashed through the window off the bridge and into the freezing river. They found the blue corpse still buckled into the stained yellow and green car seat twenty minutes later.
Jared stood there, one part of the carburetor in hand, the look on his face stricken. Jensen didn’t notice his own tears 'til one hit his hand. He stood up and tried to move but felt frozen on the spot. Jared took another step forward and Jensen knew what he intended to do. It had been a long time since he’d let anyone close enough to touch him but Jared intended… no, did hug him. Just whispering “Jesus Christ” over and over again.
He let the hug have him, just for a moment, just 'til he could pull himself together but the tears that had built up wouldn’t seem to stop, and he couldn’t seem to find the strength to push away.
Jared fixed the engine two days later, but he had also been right. Jensen did end up in Dangling Rope Marina, on Lake Powell, in Utah. With a patched home, and a patched heart and a very fuzzy plan to someday, move on.
Author:Vamphile
Pairing: J2
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1900+/-
Summary For: Allydenise who said in this Meme:
I'd love to see a fic in which Jensen is travelling the waterways of the US in a barge, alone & getting over a loss in his life. He picks up free spirit artist Jared along the way, and Jared begins to put Jensen's heart together again. :o)
A/N: caution, mentions of child death
Thanks to:
anifsemaj Jensen tried not to moor in the same marina for more than a week at a time. Sitting still made him feel claustrophobic and getting used to a new dock, a new set of neighbors and a new town just sounded exhausting. He’s familiar with almost all of the lakes and rivers that will accommodate his home and he figures in the past eighteen months there isn’t a part of his boat that he hasn’t touched for repairs of some sort, even if it’s just maintenance.
He likes the quiet of the lakes. He likes the solitary and safe feel of the wind in his face, and everything he needs right there with him. He’s a hobo on the water, at least that’s what he tells himself. He’s also clear, in his own head, that he’s not running from anything. He’s sure this isn’t more than just an extended leave of absence from his life.
After the accident he didn’t know what to do with himself. For almost a year he sat in his cold empty condo, went to work, came home and stared at the television 'til it was time for bed.
The legal settlement was huge. The first thing his lawyer said to him was, “now you can do whatever you want.”
He’d left her office and realized he didn’t want to do anything. So he didn’t. And one day, in the middle of not doing anything he found craigslist and saw the ad and the picture of “My Dream”. Someone was selling their dream and Jensen needed a dream desperately. Three days later the transaction was complete and Jensen took everything he’d ever learned about boating and transferred it, letting the previous owner show him a few tips and tricks and he was on his way. His lawyer would handle his “assets” pay the bills, make the investments, and he could just go.
And go he did.
He saw quite a bit of America and thought about almost nothing almost all the time.
He’d changed the name. Jensen didn’t travel and live on My Dream anymore. He lived on Regret.
Jensen wasn’t happy, and he knew it. He wasn’t supposed to be happy, he was mobile and he never had to discuss the accident again. That was as good as it got.
And thus it went until Regret started making a grinding, whining sound when he got her up to full speed. Sighing he pulled into the closest marina. It was only noon, still plenty of time to check the engine and see what the issue was.
A full two days later he had to admit this was beyond his repair abilities. He was hoping the engine wasn’t beyond anyone’s repair abilities. He liked the way she churned and glugged and occasionally whined. Made him feel connected to her and in that moment he realized he’d gotten attached to his motherfucking boat.
He wiped off his greasy hands and went looking for the nearest dive bar. There was always one near a marina.
He ordered a draft and sat in a back corner, downing one after the other until he was more than comfortably numb. The bartender was watching him, and Jensen studiously stared at a drop of condensation trickling down his glass. Refusing eye contact.
A bowl of pretzels appeared on the table. He looked up, up, up. Fucker was tall. “Wha…” was all he got out before the bartender shrugged. “You need something to soak up all that beer. Trust me, much less of a hangover if you eat a few pretzels.”
Jensen pushed the bowl away and dropped some cash on the table. “I’m good.”
“You’re walking, right?”
Jensen ignored the question and staggered back home. Home. This was just supposed to be a bed and a kitchen. There wasn’t supposed to be anything home-like about it. He crashed into his bed and slept to the rocking of the lake and the comforting creak of the boards as Regret rocked with it.
///
Jared's phone rang the next morning. Someone had seen his ad at the marina and needed engine repair. He let out a sigh of relief. Extra money was always a good thing but this month it was sorely needed. He headed out to meet the client, take a look at the damage and see what kind of fix it was gonna be.
There standing in slip 12 was the guy from the bar last night, and behind him was a vast array of pieces and parts that, if assembled correctly, would be the boat’s motor.
Jared introduced himself and climbed on board. “So you tried to work on it yourself.”
“Yeah, I know a little about engine repair.”
“And then you hit a wall.”
The guy, Jensen, ducked his head.
“Well, let me take a look.” Jared already suspected that the motor was shot. It wasn’t these pieces here those he could fix but if there was a crack in the block he’d need a new one, but diagnosing from a distance was never good customer service, and he could be wrong.
He got closer and tinkered a bit. Putting a few parts back together and re-attaching them. He found the issue. “Here’s your problem.”
“Where?”
Jared explained it to him, not dumbing it down, just letting the reality sink in. It wasn’t much of a boat, small bedroom, small kitchen, not a lot of deck space. This is probably where this boat, and this man, would end up. Here, in the Dangling Rope Marina, on Lake Powell, in Utah. He’d find a job, live on the boat and hope one day to get the motor fixed.
He never would. Jared had seen it a dozen times.
Jared finished his speech.
“So how much?”
“Huh?”
“To fix it.”
“It’s going to take rebuilding the whole thing, finding parts, or you could just order a new one for a couple thousand.”
“I don’t want a new one. Can you fix this one?”
“Well, I can do it but it ain’t gonna be cheap. I’m guessing at least a grand on labor alone, plus parts.” He waited.
Jensen nodded. “Go ahead and order it. “That’s…”
“If you can’t do it, someone around here can, right?”
“Right. I’ll go order the parts but I need half down.”
Jensen disappeared inside and came back out with a check. Jared walked away, the check still in his hand.
///
Jensen sat back and couldn’t help feeling betrayed by Regret. She was supposed to get him everywhere he needed to go. She was supposed to keep him going, not the other way around. Regret had been effortless thus far. His fingers itched with the desire to take her out far enough so that he couldn’t see anything but water. He went inside and logged on to his computer, thanked god for mobile Wi-Fi, and sent messages to everyone who kept emailing him little notes filled with worry and care. More than he could stand, or process. He let them all know he was fine. Didn’t bother to tell them where he was and then killed the rest of the day staring at the water.
Two interminable days later the bartender showed up with his tools and a cardboard box full of parts. Jensen watched him work, methodically, carefully. “So which are you?”
Jared looked up, “huh?”
“Which are you, a bartender who works on engines or a mechanic who tends bar?”
Jared shrugged fitting two parts together and checking the seal. “Depends on what day it is I suppose.”
Jensen nodded and went inside to read. He wasn’t sure why he had attempted conversation, he’d never been good at it and now his skills were rusty.
///
Jared was making progress with the motor, slowly, rebuilding it from scratch. He loved doing it, got lost in the way the parts fit together, just like they were machined to. The only disconcerting part was Jensen. He could feel the man staring at him but when he looked up to smile he was engrossed in his book or staring blankly at the water.
“Not much of a talker are you?”
“I like the quiet.”
“Yeah, I’m not like that.” Jared tightened a bolt and continued “I love getting to know new people, that’s why I dig the bartending gig so much. Well, and the tips, but the tips at the Rusty Bucket aren’t that good. I still get to meet new people though….” Jared trailed off as Jensen opened his book and practically hid behind it.
Jared worked on the piece for two weeks, getting a few sentences each day out of Jensen. He knew where he came from, what college he’d attended, what he’d majored in, and even who his first real boyfriend was. What he didn’t know was why a guy with the resources and looks that Jensen had chose to travel around the rivers and lakes in a barge and stay as removed from humanity as possible.
///
Jensen tried the local library, the local bar, the local diner, and everywhere he went, there were people. He eventually gave Instead he resolved to ignore Jared who was on the boat all day, every day, racking up the billable hours, which he knew was an unfair thought. He was truly always working while there. But Jensen was disconcerted by him, by his questions and his easy acceptance of whatever Jensen said. He could have proclaimed himself a brain surgeon, or extra terrestrial and it seemed Jared would nod, keep working and believe him.
Jensen felt something. Not towards Jared, although there was a certain level of chemical attraction He felt something else, like each time Jared’s grease stained fingers put another part of the engine together, he was repairing something in Jensen too.
And so Jensen shouldn’t have been surprised when he admitted to Jared that he’d had a child. That Taylor had been a little over two when his car skidded on the ice. That the car seat was defective. That he walked away unscathed and Taylor, car-seat and all, crashed through the window off the bridge and into the freezing river. They found the blue corpse still buckled into the stained yellow and green car seat twenty minutes later.
Jared stood there, one part of the carburetor in hand, the look on his face stricken. Jensen didn’t notice his own tears 'til one hit his hand. He stood up and tried to move but felt frozen on the spot. Jared took another step forward and Jensen knew what he intended to do. It had been a long time since he’d let anyone close enough to touch him but Jared intended… no, did hug him. Just whispering “Jesus Christ” over and over again.
He let the hug have him, just for a moment, just 'til he could pull himself together but the tears that had built up wouldn’t seem to stop, and he couldn’t seem to find the strength to push away.
Jared fixed the engine two days later, but he had also been right. Jensen did end up in Dangling Rope Marina, on Lake Powell, in Utah. With a patched home, and a patched heart and a very fuzzy plan to someday, move on.
