Chapter Text
When Jared woke up, he had two thoughts.
The first was that he still wanted to stay -- remembering Jensen's hand holding him still, Jensen's rubbing the corner of his mouth against Jared's wrist, and Tristan, still balled up against his chest asleep.
The second thought was that his skin felt too tight, like clothing one size too small.
For a little while, that first thought eclipsed everything else, and he forgot exactly what that sensation meant, something he would usually never forget. Something that had been burned into his consciousness. For the moment though, it was hidden by the trickery of content. Of actually thinking, for even a second, there was a place for him.
He rolled over on to his side, Tristan warking softly before settling back into the covers. Jared leaned down to sniff the little curled up form, feeling pleased at the warm, yeasty scent of clean and sleepy cub. He nuzzled into the kitten's fur, leaving a kiss against Tristan's elbow. The cub stirred enough to hiss a little at Jared, who only smiled.
"Now it's your turn to be grumpy in the mornings, mm?"
Tristan didn't deign to respond, and Jared heaved himself over, feet and hands padding on the floor as he pushed himself to stand. He stretched his arms up above his head with a groan, feeling his back flex and pop and he was glad that living in a tent for two years had gotten him used to sleeping on the floor. The ailure didn't really do mattresses.
He winced when he dropped his arms back to his side, still feeling like he hadn't stretched, and he twisted himself from side to side, hoping to relieve some of the tension. His nose wrinkled when it didn't dissipate, and he rubbed at his arms. His skin felt stiff and sore, too stretched, like it didn't belong to him.
He was possessed of an irritating feeling of being in the wrong place. Like he'd woken up in the wrong bed and there was somewhere else he needed to be. It was an errant thought, not strong enough for him to hold on to, but he grimaced, the sensation like an itch in the back of his brain. He scratched his forearm and walked over to his bag to get dressed. He'd need to take his clothes down to the river and wash them sometime soon. He was getting kind of rank.
Body odor wasn't a big issue for a group of people who lived in the wild, thankfully, so if he got a bit sweaty, no one really cared. He remembered him and his brothers, back in Wyoming, always hating when people wore deodorant or perfume. When they'd gotten old enough to begin shaving, they'd all avoided aftershave or cologne. The artificial scents made their eyes tear up and burned in their noses, far worse than any scent the body naturally put out.
Jared had never understood how Daniel had managed to woo so many girls, given that he never wore a bit of deodorant. He could only assume that looks trumped smell.
He smirked a little, unused to thinking of his family without feeling a pang, but even though that wallow of guilt remained, he found it didn't seem as bad. After all, he had a choice now, an option besides solitude.
He flushed a little, remembering against the sensation of Jensen rubbing up against this wrist.
An option besides solitude, and, maybe, a family waiting for him.
He'd never been attracted to a guy before, but then again, he'd never been attracted to a girl, either. He'd always just joked or teased when people asked him why he didn't date, happy to let his brothers do all the wooing and the staying out late. At their school Jared was just known as the comedian of the triplets. Someone everyone liked but no one took seriously.
He'd always considered himself to be straight, but it was more nominal than based on any kind of fact or experience. Like most American teenagers, straight was just the default setting in his head, growing up in Wyoming doing nothing to change that idea. Sure, he'd wondered, back then. He'd thought about why it was when Stacy asked him out he gently turned her down, as pretty and nice as she was. Or that when his brothers had goaded(on Daniel's part) and encouraged(on Brandon's) him to go out with Ramona Hernandez, and he'd had a nice time, enjoyed her company and laughed at the same jokes in the movie that she did, but when they got home and she leaned in for a kiss, he'd dodged and kissed her cheek instead, pretending he didn't see the flash of disappointment in her eyes.
It wasn't like he'd been attracted to any guys, so it wasn't that. He'd considered it, when he was fifteen, as some kind of explanation as to why he just wasn't as interested as other people seemed to be, but a quick look at some less than polished porn on the internet had quickly demolished that notion.
He paused, holding his shirt in his hands as his mind went back to the conversation that he'd had with Jensen the other day. He couldn't deny the uncomfortable but familiar squiggle of nerves in his stomach at the thought, at his nature as a fertile, but Jensen had said that it was alright. That it was beautiful, even, and maybe if Jared wasn't there yet, he could at least believe that Jensen was right about one thing: denying it wasn't helping.
It wasn't like there had been a lot of dominants at his school, after all. He hadn't known it then, but his eyes had been traveling over his classmates, looking for those signals, looking for a dominant to match him and finding none.
He wasn't gay or straight, those concepts inherently seated in gender in a way that didn't come naturally to ailure. He was fertile. And that meant he wasn't looking for a male or a female specifically, just a dominant, and Jensen... Jensen fit that bill.
Jared's breath stuttered unexpectedly, and his stomach cramped.
He bent over a little, taking an unsteady breath.
The thought of Jensen had come on like a shot, bright and unexpected -- or, at least, his reaction was unexpected. He rubbed his stomach, straightening out and lifting up his shirt to pull it over his head. He walked over to the wall to grab his shoes, tugging them on, but paused when he caught scent of something strange. He stared at the door to Julie and Misha's quarters, stared at it like it would move, like it would come to life and spring at him.
He slowly finished tugging on his second shoe and began to take uncertain steps over towards the door, gaze wary but wondering. When he got close enough he leaned in, feeling the wood brush rough and uneven against his nose. That scent trailed over him again, something strong and unmistakable. It smelled like the woods, dirty and pungent and good, and Jensen's hand on his flashed through his head again, the feeling of his fingers wrapped so easily around Jared's wrist.
Jared choked out a moan, leaning his forehead against the door as he felt muscles inside of him clench and work, going slick as he braced himself on the wood.
It was Misha. Oh god, he was scenting Misha.
Jared pushed himself off of the door, feeling cold and clammy, sick with knowledge because he knew exactly what this was. The curse he suffered through two times every year, gross and wet and restless, that horrible nowhere feeling that made him want to run and roll and rub himself up against any rough surface.
He curled his hands into fists, gritting his teeth.
It was early. Maybe it could be diverted, like some kind of biological cold.
Not that it had ever worked before, but god, Jared thought, please let it work today. Today of all days.
He felt himself on the verge of hyperventilating, letting it all get out of hand. Maybe it wasn't really happening, maybe he was just freaking himself out. He tried to slow his breathing, tried to get himself back under control.
He needed to--... Water. Somewhere cool. Just.
He swallowed, turning and walking straight out the front door, fingers fumbling with the latch, barely just remembering to close it behind him to keep any kittens from getting out. Pride ground was washed with pale dawn light, and he could see a few other ailure padding around, just one or two here or there, but Jared's eyes fell to the two betas on patrol, walking through the center of the village, talking to each other, and panic shot through him, like they'd see it, smell it. But the two guards just walked right past him, barely sparing a glance.
Jared thanked whatever shred of luck he had left and moved away from the cabin, walking in jerky motions down the slope of pride ground and towards the treeline.
-----
He also tried not to over think what there was to be eager about.
Jared needed a pride, and he obviously needed shoulders to lean on. He needed guidance and reassurance and someone to teach him what it meant to be an ailure, to become comfortable with himself beyond his pre-conceived human notions. Not to mention that Jared was one of the last of the Dawnbringers, a revelation for all ailure across the world. There were a lot of good reasons for Jared to stay, and for why Jensen should be glad he did.
Except none of those were the reasons that Jensen was thinking about.
He was thinking about looking up at Jared from the bottom of the stairs, the boy's head haloed by the lights on over the cabin's door, his hand in Jensen's. He was thinking about the feel of rubbing his scent glands against the boy's wrist, even if they didn't exist in that body. He was thinking of the way Jared laughed, confused and happy, and the faint outline of a promise in the Skybreaker's eyes. The promise of 'yes.'
So, he tried not to be eager, but he still found himself over at Julie and Misha's cabin that morning, leaning down when Tristan came jogging over to greet him. When he asked Misha, though, he didn't get the answer he was looking for.
"Jared's not here,' Misha said, sitting on the edge of his porch, legs dangling.
Jensen frowned, feeling himself bracing for bad news. He tried not to jump to conclusions, holding Tristan against his shoulder.
"He's...gone?"
"...well, he's not here, so...you know..." Misha replied, giving Jensen a 'have you gone around the bend?' look. Jensen made a sound of frustration.
"No. I don't mean gone. I mean gone gone. As in left. Permanently."
"Not as far as I'm aware." Misha frowned. "I mean, his bag and all his stuff is still here. He'd already left when Julie and I got up this morning. I can't imagine he'd just skip out without saying anything."
"No, he wouldn't..." Jensen agreed, shaking his head.
"Why would you think he'd be gone permanently?"
"We had..." Jensen wasn't sure, exactly, how to describe last night. There were a lot of things about last night, not the least of which was a fertile that was far too young for Jensen to be considering in any way other than as a pride member who needed some guidance from his alpha. "We had an agreement. That this morning he would decide, one way or another, if he was staying or going."
Misha sucked in a breath, making a hissing noise as he grimaced.
"You sure that's a good idea, bossman? What if he chooses to leave?"
"He doesn't belong to us. I meant everything that I said before, that he is pride, that we take care of him... But he still gets a say in the matter. We can't force him."
"Still...bit of a gamble."
"Yeah..." Jensen glanced over his shoulder at pride ground, then shifted to lower Tristan to the ground, letting his son join the other cubs. "Just...keep an eye out for him, would you? Maybe he just needed some time to think."
"Where'll you be?"
"Gonna go on patrol." He shrugged once. It was better than sitting around in the main house, or worse, on Misha's front porch, like a love sick cub. Patrol, at least, would take his mind off of things.
He hoped.
Misha nodded his ascent, and Jensen gave a wave to Julie as he made his way back up to the house to get undressed and shift. Hopefully, by the time he was back, Jared would have come to a decision.
-----
Jared's body was half drifting in the calm section of the river, at the bottom of pride ground, his torso pressed up against a rock, clinging to it, water up to the bottom of his chest. The heat of the day hadn't peaked yet, the air still temperate as the sun rose, but the river felt icy around him. He knew it wasn't really. That it would be pleasant, if he'd gotten into it in the afternoon. But he'd been floating in the current for two hours now, and his core body temperature was dropping, making him shiver and shake.
And it was doing nothing to get rid of that feeling.
There was somewhere he had to be. Somewhere he desperately needed to get to, but he didn't know where. His skin felt like it was crawling and writhing, moving over his flesh and displacing itself, looking for something that Jared didn't know how to name. He pressed his cheek to the grit of the rock, feeling it cold, hard and unforgiving beneath him -- no forgiveness for him, not for this. His fingers clenched, nails scraping, and he tried to breath, teeth chittering.
He felt sick, like he was going to throw up, except he couldn't. The sickness was lower, deeper, cramping down just above his groin and he groaned, thinking of that empty space inside, shame and fear roiling through him like the angry waves of a storm, hammering the shore of whatever calm he had left.
"There's nothing wrong with you."
Jared groaned and arched up against the rock, pressing his body into it, feeling Jensen's voice through the earth, the rough edge of gravel pressing together, grinding and sensual. Jared turned his head, licking the stone and tasting the brackish water that lapped up against it, sediment scouring his tongue, and he kept licking, rubbing his face, his cheek against it.
It wasn't going away. If anything, it was worse than it normally was, something screaming in him. Jared choked out a laugh, wondering if it was because his body knew. Maybe it knew he was surrounded by plenty of healthy dominants now, and wouldn't that just be the punishment his body deserved? Maybe if he threw himself to them and lifted his tail they'd take their turns, eking out those marks against him.
He growled, sobbed. He didn't deserve it. He'd never done anything wrong, never wanted any of this. It was his body, his stupid, messed up body that didn't know what it was, like a cage around him, and he didn't know why he had to be born into it, why it couldn't have been someone else.
"The fertile give their love so freely, so beautifully."
Jared pressed his forehead to the stone, feeling feverish. Maybe that was what Jensen had meant. Giving their love so freely. Just rolling over and taking whatever the dominants chose to doll out, so pathetically needy that they'd give it up for anything with a cock. The thought made Jared gag, coughing hard as his hips rutted. He wasn't aroused. But his body still wanted it.
He was breathing hard again, too hard, vision swimming and he looked out at the sun, pale and unblinking -- the Eye, the ailure called it -- staring down at him, judgmental and distant. The cold face of someone looking down at something that was so much as trash, something that wasn't worth saving.
I'm here, Jared thought, looking up at it and wishing someone could hear him inside his cell. I'm right here. Please. Save me.
'Are you alright?' a voice interrupted him, and he whirled around, sinking in the water the minute he turned, having no balance, and even the gentle current enough to knock him over, sinking under. The water closed up over his head and he let all his air out in a foolish yell, feeling the floor of the river scrape by beneath him. Then something stiff grabbed the back of his shirt, hauling him back and up through the water. He spluttered as his head came above the surface again, and whoever it was was dragging him back to shore. The substrate rolled against his back as he was pulled up onto the bank, breathing in uneven jerks. He hadn't swallowed any water but he still felt like he couldn't breath.
His eyes were open, unblinking, but he didn't see his rescuer for a moment, seeing but blind until he blinked, looking up.
There was a large dominant looking down at him, and he was laying on her front paws, her head arched over him, frill hanging low.
'Are you alright?' she asked again this time with more direct concern. Jared stared up at her, shivering with cold in the North Carolina summer. He said nothing, couldn't say anything, his skin getting tighter and tighter until it felt like he couldn't possibly fit, the ache in his stomach blossoming like a flower, like a bullet hole, up and into every nerve, making him itch in every pore, itch down in some unscratchable place.
He keened and arched his back before turning over, still half in the water, and he reached up, grabbing her mane. He heard her make a sound of surprise, but she didn't back away. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the bulk of her muscles, the height of her shoulders. Maybe she could do it. He'd had it explained to him by Adrianne and Clayton. The female dominants had their own way of getting inside of him, and he could shift, right now, turn his body into the right form and she'd take her toll, push into him, and maybe his body would learn its lesson. Learn just how bad he could let it hurt.
He scrabbled up, closer, pressing his face into her fur, fingers tightening, one in the thick fur on her neck, the other in the base of her frill, clinging and hanging off of her. Any moment now. Any moment. Any moment now.
The dominant lifted one paw from the ground, wrapping her leg around him in an awkward kind of embrace, holding him in return.
'It's okay,' she said, her voice confused but clearly trying to be comforting. 'It's okay now, you'll be alright... Just tell me what's wrong.'
And Jared sobbed, laughing miserably into her coat.
Of course she wouldn't.
Of course she wouldn't do that. These people were good people. They cared for each other, looked after each other. What Jensen had said before -- he'd meant it. Because he was a good person with good people all around, with good fertiles, and nothing like Jared. He could beg for their contempt all he wanted, and they'd just try to help him.
He didn't need help. He didn't want help.
He needed--
He needed--
He needed to be gone.
He wrenched himself back, feeling water droplets falling from his messy bangs, and he saw the dominant watching him with confused and concerned eyes. He scrambled back like a crab, finally managing to get himself to his feet, even as the world swayed and spun like a top.
The sun would bake the water off of him and his skin would shrink, would get smaller and smaller until he wasn't there anymore.
"Just leave me alone," he managed to get out, voice clenched and as gritty as the river bottom. "Please...leave me alone."
He turned, stumbling off down the river bank, his equilibrium gone and his steps unsteady. He had had something to decide today. Something that was his. A choice that he got to make, for once. But his body had taken that from him, because he didn't get to have any say in what it did or didn't do.
He felt himself sob on a breath.
He'd almost been happy, for just a moment. And his stupid body was going to take that away from him, again.
-----
He'd cleaned the cabin twice, repaired the leak in the roof over the porch, and used the scrap materials to make a dodgy looking slide for the kids by the time the Julie told him he needed to sit down(she might have said sit the fuck down, Misha, specifically), and the captain had been forced to relent.
Thankfully, his twitchy repose didn't last long.
Brigitte, one of his betas, approached the cabin at an easy lope, nodding her head in greeting.
'Captain.'
"Brigitte, hey." He pushed himself up, walking over to the cat. "What is it?" A beta on duty wouldn't approach him for idle chit chat.
'The fertile you asked us to watch over, the newcomer. I saw him down at the river just a few minutes ago.'
"The river?" Misha's brow furrowed. "What was he doing?"
'I'm not sure, to be honest. When I first saw him I thought perhaps he was going for a swim, but he was fully dressed. And when I got closer, I saw he was clinging to a rock.'
"Was he alright?" Misha took a step closer, as if his actions now could somehow effect Brigitte's tale of what had happened.
'He seemed to be okay physically. I surprised him and he lost his balance, so I pulled him out. After that...' Her yellow eyes slid to the side, considering her words. 'I'm not sure, to be honest. I tried to find if he was bleeding, but the river water covered his scent. He seemed...out of it. I offered to help him, but he pushed away and walked off. I didn't get the impression he wanted me to follow him.'
Misha nodded, understanding. He would never order any of his betas to follow a fertile against their will. The physical superiority of the dominants demanded an understanding that the fertiles' will was law, else the fertiles could too easily find their wants and their opinions being drowned out by dominants who were too overprotective for their own good.
"Thanks," he replied, finally. "Thanks for the report. You're on the river bank this afternoon then?"
'Sir,' she nodded in the affirmative.
"Head on back. I'll let the alpha know when he returns from his patrol of the hunting grounds."
After Brigitte left, her words on his mind, even Julie couldn't stop Misha's fidgeting.
It wasn't until two hours later that Jared showed up. Misha was down the slope, helping some other members of the pride building a new cabin when Julie jogged up.
"Misha!" she called, and his attention snapped to her, ever nerve ending in his body wired to detect the slightest stress in his mate, and her voice was bogged in worry. "Misha, Jared came back," she continued as he walked up to her, reached out to her. Even if he knew she was fine, he still touched her shoulders, needing the feel of her okay under him. "He's packing his bag."
The captain pressed his lips together and didn't say anything, just nodded and moved around her, running back up the hill to their cabin. His cubs, as well as Tristan, were all lazing about outside, the alpha's cub watching Jared's jerky movements with curious eyes.
Jared himself was just inside the cabin's door, shoving his belongings into his sack, the clothes he was currently wearing dirty and smeared with river mud, his hair dried and greasy. He was shaking.
"Jared--" he started, coming up the stairs.
"No!"
The yell was so loud, so unexpected, that Misha actually jumped. Jared had whirled around, his eyes wide with panic, like a rabbit gone still and terrified in the face of death. Misha had never expected a fertile to ever look at him like that. He put both hands up.
"Jared, what's going on?" he asked in the lowest, calmest voice that he could.
"I'm going. I have to-- I'm going." Jared turned back to his packing, if that was what it could be called. He was picking up anything he owned, his clothes, his few meager belongings and stuffing them into the bag without care. He was shaking hard enough that he occasionally dropped things, picking them up over and over again until he apparently decided that he had everything he needed, even if a few things were still strewn about. He marched out of the cabin and jogged unevenly down the steps.
"Jared, just... Can you wait for the alpha? Please? Let us at least hear why you have to--"
"No. I have to go now. I'm... I'm sorry. And thank you. For all the..." Jared looked up, looked at the sky, searching it, and Misha's brow furrowed, seeing Jared's eyes darting around like he was seeing too many things at once. Then Jared blinked and his gaze refocused. "Thank you for helping me. Goodbye."
The fertile turned to go, almost tripping over Tristan in the process, who'd been preparing to pounce on the dragging end of Jared's pants.
"Shit!" Jared cursed, jumping and stumbling to avoid the cub, who just watched him with a quirked head. "Tristan, Christ..." Jared stared down at him for a moment, and Misha felt confined, just watching, not knowing what to say when he had no idea what was wrong.
Jared nudged the cub with his foot.
"Go back to the others, Trist," he said, voice detached and quiet. Tristan thought it was a game and flopped over, Jared's foot just rolling him onto his back. He grabbed onto Jared's shoe, biting it. "Trist--Tristan, goddamnit..." Jared stumbled back, trying to tug his foot away and only succeeded in losing his shoe. The sudden freedom caused the boy to fall back on his ass, grunting as he hit the ground. "Goddamnit!" he yelled, anger painting his features as he scrambled back up, one shoe on and one shoe off.
Tristan got up, obviously hearing the tone in Jared's voice, but still too young to know what it meant. Instead of backing away, he trotted forward, looking for attention.
"No," Jared said insistently, stepping back, but Tristan just moved over to him again. Misha made to go forward, to intervene, but some part of him was hoping that Tristan's bond with the fertile would change Jared's mind.
"No, Tristan." Jared shoved the kitten back again. "You have to stay. here." The kitten got up and Jared pushed him back, and the kitten got up and Jared pushed him back. Misha could see the frustration mounting in Jared's stressed features, and when the cub leaped forward in play, scratching Jared's hand, the fertile gave a cry, clasping his hand to his chest. Misha came to his side, putting his hands on Jared's arms, too used to physically comforting the fertile to not want to go to him, but Jared just yanked away.
"Goddamnit, you have to stay here! You can't come with me! I'm not your mom!" he yelled, loud. Loud enough to get the attention of the rest of the pride in the area, his voice scratchy and distressed, painted with frustration and despair. Misha felt the force of it, enough to make his body go stiff.
Tristan's ears went down at the sound, no mistaking the anger now, and huddled his body to the ground instinctively.
Jared was panting, his eyes too wide, all whites, and Misha tried to reach for him again, hesitantly this time.
Jared turned before he could get to him, making to leave. Misha turned his attempt to calm into one to restrain, grabbing Jared's wrist, needing to keep him here, needing to find out what was wrong.
"Jared--"
"Let me go."
"Jared--"
"Let me go!" The fertile yanked at his hand, and a second later he shifted, his clothing falling off as he leapt out in his cat form, his paws landing on the rocky ground. He didn't pause, just started running, sunlight racing over the distinctive dark stripes on his back, and Misha stumbled forward. Jared's clothing laid rumbled across the ground and his knapsack, half open and spilling items, was abandoned, the young ailure leaving pride ground alone and with nothing.
Misha's brow set, lips pursing.
"Someone!" he yelled, looking around. There was the sound of paws on stone, and two of his betas ran up quickly, their ears perked and alert. "Go find the alpha, bring him back here, now."
They nodded and turned away, powerful bodies sprinting up the hill, the opposite direction from Jared and towards the hunting grounds.
Jensen had said that Jared was going to make a decision today, but whatever it was that had just happened, it hadn't been anything like Misha was expecting.
-----
The two betas who'd come to get him were flanking him as he ran, as he left the forest and raced out onto pride ground. He stopped only long enough to verify that his lands, his pride, were safe and whole, then jogged down towards Misha's cabin. Even on the approach, he could hear his son, the same little chirps and cries he'd made every time Jensen he locked him in for the night. Jensen knew the cries of a cub searching for his mother.
'What happened?' he asked, out of breath as he approached. Misha came quickly down the steps, Julie on the porch holding Tristan.
"I don't know. He was upset. More. He was...panicking. It wasn't him, Jensen."
'The hell do you mean?'
"I mean he was having a panic attack, or something. He yelled at Tristan and then he ran. Left all his stuff."
Jensen felt himself wince, worry and a million possibilities running through his head, and none that fit. Tristan seemed alright, if a little upset, but Jared...
Jensen looked around and spotted the pile of belongings on the edge of the porch. This wasn't a decision. This didn't sound anything like a decision. Something had happened. Jensen had promised himself he'd let Jared go without a fight, if that was what he wanted, but Jensen didn't even know if it was what he wanted. Something had scared Jared, badly. Something had happened between last night, Jared all soft smiles and shy glances, and now, yelling at Tristan and running in blind fear.
'...I'm going after him.'
"Alpha," Misha crouched down to be on eye level. "Are you sure?"
'If this is what he wants, then fine. But I didn't expect this. I expected... He should have at least said goodbye. I need to at least know he'll be alright. And if he is, and he says he doesn't want to come back... Then I'll leave it at that. But this isn't-- Something's wrong, Misha.'
"Should I send some of the beta with you?"
Jensen shook his head.
'No. Keep them here. Defend pride ground in my absence. The last thing Jared needs is to feel outnumbered.'
Misha listened, nodding his head in obedience. In that moment, Jensen truly felt like an alpha again, knowing and in control. And he knew what he had to do. He moved up the steps, waiting for Julie to lean down so that he could comfort his son, licking the side of his face.
Tristan quieted, purring quietly at the affection.
'Don't worry...' Jensen murmured, running his tongue over Tristan's fur. 'I'm going to go get him. I'm going to try and bring your mother home... Just wait, alright? I'll be back.'
He gave his son one last nuzzle before stepping back, loping off of the porch and through the gathered detritus of the forest.
Running full tilt into the woods, headed down to the river. Bringing back Jared wasn't something he could promise his son. Not with any certainty, but he could damn well promise to try.
He could remember them talking the night before about the way that Jared had come to pride ground, and Jensen would head down stream and hope. He could only just scent Jared in the air, a barely lingering presence that would soon fade as if the fertile had never been there, had never come into their pride and their lives, bringing home Jensen's son and something more.
Bringing back a piece of himself that Jensen had almost sacrificed to the pall of the river and those small grey bodies.
If Jared could bring him that, then Jensen could at least bring Jared home.