I Offer You The Lean Streets

[Jared/Jensen | ADULT | ~5k]
Established Relationship, Series, Crossover.
Fourth in the J2/CSI ‘Verse. When things threaten to come crashing down, Jensen does what he does best – avoids it.




Jensen still remembers what this office looked like when Grissom was here. There had been diagrams, sketches, posters. An entire rainforest's worth of insect specimens on the walls, in boxes, and mounted in frames. It hadn't been a bright or cheery place, bordering on creepy until Jensen got used to the creepy-crawlies, but it was filled with science and discovery. Gil's job, all of his passions, covered every spare inch.

After, when boxes were packed up and removed, Jensen never found the time to hang his own things. It's been twenty months, but his degrees and few published papers haven't dented the empty wall space. He does have interests; unfortunately dialectology doesn’t display as well as varied specimens of Papilionoidea of the western United States. But Jensen liked the simplicity, got used to it, and didn't need much else.

Now he barely recognizes his own space. Print outs cover dark walls and frosted glass: copies of Doctor Robbins’ autopsy reports, psychological profiles, and shots in the dark. Black and white reminders that Jensen's no closer to finding the psychopath who threatened Jared than he was three weeks ago. Boxes of evidence, checked out so often from storage that the clerks have taken to dropping them in Jensen's office before he even arrives, sit in corners and against his desk.

There are multiple copies of the Polaroid and the note mixed up with everything else. The words have been enlarged, letters blown up as large as a page but Jensen can read nothing in the handwriting or language.

Beautiful. For now.

Three fucking words and a picture. One dead body and less than a handful of leads are all they have. A home-done tattoo and mutilations that still make Jensen's blood run cold add up to nothing. The only difference between the day the note arrived and now is that Ecklie relented - allowed Jensen's team to pursue everything they could, no longer on a back burner. It hasn't gotten them anywhere.

The waiting is the worst.

For every day that passes Jensen breathes a sigh of relief before the anxiety comes back - the uncertainty of the next day. He wants to think the threat was merely that, only meant to cause frenzy and distraction. In truth, he knows it was too specific - targeting the boyfriend of the only man investigating the mutilated John Doe. He can't take the chance with Jared's life.

God, Jared. His boyfriend doesn't even know.

"Jensen."

He doesn't move, keeps his arms crossed tightly and his eyes on the cluttered walls.

"Hey, Conrad."

Ecklie stops next to him. His boss has been remarkably supportive, joining Jensen whenever lab politics and policies give him a free minute. Could be out of guilt, originally pulling Jensen off John Doe's case, but deep down Conrad Ecklie is just like the rest of his team. Investigators to the core; it's a kinship they call share. Mysteries can trouble anyone. Crime scene investigators lose sleep over them, get tormented and obsessed, never stopping until they're satisfied. Unsolved cases are like scars they'll never be rid of.

"Didn't think you'd still be here." His boss subtly checks his watch and Jensen hears the concern in the statement.

He's obviously been putting in extra hours. If only people in Vegas stopped killing each other long enough for the C.S.I.'s to track down a single psychopath.

"It's not what you think, Conrad. I'm on my way out, but I was waiting for Catherine and Nick to get back from their last call."

"I saw them logging everything. Single four-nineteen at the limo company, right?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I was heading out." Jensen turns to face Ecklie. "There's nothing new here anyway." Not that there ever is. Perversely, Jensen almost wants this psychopath to strike again. As long as Jared is safe, it might give them more clues. He can think it, but he’ll never say it.

"Tomorrow's your day off." It's not a question.

"Technically, but I figured-"

"Take it."

"What?"

"Take your day off."

"Conrad, I can seriously handle coming in."

"I know," Jensen can hear the lie. "You've barely gone home this entire week."

That's because I had nothing to go home to, Jensen wants to say, but it doesn't matter. It's not the case today and he's actually eager to leave. Arguing with Ecklie is only going to delay him.

"Fine, you won't see me until Sunday."

"Good," Ecklie doesn't smile. "I'll make sure Ryland's team follows up on anything new, and yes," he adds before Jensen can interrupt. "I'll have them page you if something comes up."

Conrad leaves without waiting for a response and Jensen's once again alone with a memory of Grissom.

Gil was the greatest scientist Jensen had ever met and he wishes the man were here. Beyond the book knowledge and experience, his former mentor had a gift; the ability to see beyond evidence and analysis. He could look over Jensen's sparse findings and find a new direction. Find something they've missed.

His phone beeps with an incoming text.

Just pulled in, u coming home? I'll wait up.

And just like that, Jensen has a reason to leave the lab.

If only he could leave his thoughts behind, too.



"So, you lied?"

Jared's grin is the best thing Jensen's seen in over a week. It’s even better than walking in to find the dining room table filled with food and topped with a random assortment of candles, creating a warm and intimate space with the added effect of blackout shades.

"There's no way you just got here."

He's wrapped up in Jared's arms before he gets a response and everything, the sight, smell, and feel of him surrounds Jensen.

"Guilty," he hears whispered against his forehead as Jared leans down to kiss him. Every time, even after this long, Jared's touch still shakes him.

His boyfriend's been working in Los Angeles for over a week, dragged away from Jensen’s close watch by a call from his producers, and Jensen's missed this. It's the reason he's spent so much time at the lab; the house is incomplete without him. It's a simple fact that Jared belongs here, making living alone almost unbearable.

A tiny nip at his bottom lip and Jared pulls away with a smile.

"Bedroom?" Jensen offers.

"Breakfast."

"Seriously?"

"I cooked," Jared laughs. "You really want to pass that up?"

While Jensen's desperate to reunite himself with Jared's body, he hasn't eaten more than bad take out and soda for a week. If fact, he had no idea there was food in the house for Jared to cook. The younger man looks thrilled when he sits. He must have scavenged the house for candles, too - Jensen had no idea he owned more than two.

Jared's not a bad cook, both of them digging into the plates of Belgian waffles, fruit salad, and vegetable omelettes. When he finally sets his fork down, Jensen's nearly stuffed. Any more and he'll be useless for anything else Jared has planned. His boyfriend's been talking almost nonstop since they sat down, more chatting than eating, and it's then he notices the giddiness in Jared's voice, his bouncing leg and bright eyes.

"You're happy," he says out of the blue. Suddenly the candles make a little more sense. "We're celebrating something, aren't we?"

"The show got picked up," Jared's smile can't get much wider. "FOX ordered half a season, and we'll get more if the ratings are good."

He barely lets Jared finish before he's out of his chair and grabbing him again, pulling him up and forward into a hug. Jared folds into the embrace and keeps talking.

"Bill called me as I was driving home. I guess he was calling everyone to let them know."

"So what does it mean?" Jensen asks, his voice muffled against Jared's shoulder.

“I can finally start paying my bills?” Jared starts with a joke then catches Jensen’s more serious expression. "I don't know, Jen." He pushes back a little, tone clearly saying I have no clue and I don't want to think about it right now. Jensen's jerked forward again and lifted off his feet. "But I have a show! A freaking' television show with Lonestar for fuck's sake!" When Jared realized that Bill Pullman was leading Key of Solomon's ensemble cast, he'd forced Jensen to watch Spaceballs three days in a row.

It goes without saying that Jensen's proud of him and he pushes everything else – work, the John Doe, Jared's safety – to the back of his mind, as far as it can go. He wants to think about nothing more than being happy for Jared, wrapped up here and listening to his excited ramblings. It comes unbidden though, a split-second flash of Tom Haviland signing autographs with blood on his hands. Indifferent. Entitled. Famous.

"Good things happen to you in L.A.," he tries, pulling away slightly. Jared's eyes are so bright and exultant.

"Great things are happening to me everywhere," Jared corrects. "Guess I should be thankful I came to Vegas. It got me noticed, even if it was because of Tom-"

"Jare..." Jensen can hear the happiness break on the last word and he cuts off the thought, feels guilty he was thinking about the movie star too. "I know."

They don't talk about Tom Haviland, really. The media was enough to let Jared know the sordid details of his former friend's trial and recent sentencing. He never asks Jensen about the case or the evidence, any of the details from that week – the horrible things the actor was capable of. Jensen doesn't care. Tom brought Jared to Las Vegas, into his life. He could be grateful for that but he has this strange feeling he and Jared would have come together somehow, sometime. Maybe not until they were old and burnt out, but it would have happened.

Jared's gone quiet and Jensen's unwilling to let his happiness dim completely, not when he deserves it so much. He grabs Jared's hand and grins, trying to lead them in a familiar direction.

"I'm into this celebration thing now. I vote we continue."

"Nah," Jared drawls half-heartedly, punctuated with a fake yawn. "I think Mario Kart is calling my na-"

He's cut off when Jensen yanks him away from the living room. They push and pull at each other with mouths and hands as they move, laughing, toward the bedroom.

Jensen aches with the need to touch Jared, pulls at his grey t-shirt until it disappears. His lips are drawn to the California darkened skin, tracing well-known paths and patterns, groaning when Jared falls back on the bed, severing the contact.

He moves to follow when Jared's voice halts him.

"Naked Jen, got to see you..."

It's said softly, the glimmer back in hazel eyes. Jensen has no choice but to appease him. He removes everything, watching Jared undo his own jeans, and then lowering himself to meet warm, bare skin. They twist together, cut muscles flexing as Jared wraps Jensen in long limbs, pressing their lower bodies together. Jensen's already hard, the thought that his body would meld with Jared's kept him on that fine line of arousal all night.

Every time Jared leaves, Jensen wonders how he survives. Mostly, he thinks he doesn't. His body functions but he's not alive. Living is here, with every press of flesh, every flex of Jared's hands into his skin, each and every kiss. Being alive is hearing Jared moan his name, not over the phone, but in his ear and against his temple. Only when they're together does Jensen know he's still here - his job, Las Vegas, hasn't gotten the best of him yet.

It's so good, godjustthis, Jensen thinks. His cock's caught in the crease of Jared's thigh and hip, and he can't stop. Jensen's beyond turned on - he's relieved. A week unable to touch the younger man, unsure - but now he's here and whole. Writhing and whispering, and nothing like what Jensen sees in his nightmares. Jared's pulling him, encouraging, and before Jensen can think to push away, he's coming.

It takes Jared by surprise.

"Jen...Jen, you okay?" He hears the soft voice ask as he's shaking across Jared's chest. Jensen's face is tucked comfortably against Jared's chest and his response gets muffled.

"Sorry, didn't catch that." Jared's voice is lighter, less tense, realizing what exactly happened. Jensen feels the low rumble of a laugh beneath him and he nips skin to retaliate.

"Been a week, Jare," Jensen says once his teeth release their prize. "Couldn't even jerk off and you expected me to last?"

"Maybe."

He won't stand for being made fun of, not when the firm line of Jared's arousal tells Jensen he's in the exact same position. Biting back on a snarky response, he dips his head to Jared's cock, lips gently mouthing the tip. This isn't something he does often, not as confident, but it can render Jared speechless and that's exactly what he's going for.

Jensen could make it dirty - inexperienced tongue and plush lips can drag out Jared's pleasure even if it's far from the world's best blowjob. He knows he looks good with his mouth around a cock - too many one night stands have told him so. It's probably the reason he started to loathe the act, but with Jared that insecurity disappears. He knows it gets Jared off because it's him, not just a pretty pair of lips.

This softness - Jensen craves it - as if this act is for his own pleasure and not Jared's. He can keep his eyes locked on Jared's face without straining, the pads of Jared's tactile fingers reaching towards Jensen's face, not holding, skimming across eyebrows and cheekbones. He savors the touching as he's sucking tenderly, the skin under his tongue so warm and nectarous.

He doesn't know why - and he'll never admit it - but with Jared touching his face Jensen feels more whole, healed. As if the things he sees and hears every day, the atrocities of human nature, leave scars on his skin. Some are deep and others superficial, but with each sweep of his boyfriend's fingers they're erased, filled in.

Jared gasps, the sound urging Jensen to repeat the swishing licks he's giving, his mouth covering as much of Jared's dick he can comfortably manage. He lightly drags his nails up Jared's muscled thighs, settling into the juncture of groin and thigh. The man beneath him shakes when Jensen uses his thumbs to caress and massage the sensitive skin at his fingertips.

Close to the edge now, Jared thrusts up and Jensen pulls back. "Sorry...God, Jensen, please..." In apology, Jared's palms cover his, both of them holding Jared's thighs down. Jensen links their fingers, connected once more as his mouth descends around delicious flesh.

Jared comes with a hitched breath, no words or muffled curses to spoil the intimacy of the sensuous act - just his fingers laced with Jensen's.

"Now I'm going to fall asleep," Jared sighs, head falling back onto the mattress.

"No," Jensen moves up the bed, kicking away sheets and clearing space. "You’ve got to stay awake so I can get you hard again." He punctuates with nimble sweeps of his hand along his boyfriend's skin. "Gonna take our fuckin' time now, Jare."

Having Jared in his mouth, hearing and feeling him so intensely, was enough to get Jensen excited for another round. Jared doesn't look unhappy with the plan, eyes warm with banished sleep, and they spend the next half hour locked together; rubbing and grinding, breathing and whispering. Finally, when Jared's hot and firm again in Jensen's hand, he can't wait any longer.

Jared, the long-armed giant, reaches for the lube, and pushes it into Jensen's hands.

"Don't think I'll last doing myself, Jare," Jensen moans and arches up as Jared mouths along his collarbone.

"Not for you, for me," he exhales then quickly flips them before Jensen can voice a complaint. Not that he wants to complain - Jared's pulled this switch once before, but this is different. The thought sends a shudder traveling the length of his body, staring down at his boyfriend once more.

"Jare," but the younger man can read his expression, halting any protest.

"No Jen, want it for real. You and me, together this time."

It's an offer he can't refuse and Jared grasps tightly to Jensen's arms when he slips one slick finger inside, preparing thoroughly but quickly. Jensen barely notices the pressure of Jared's grip on his forearms, no doubt bruising. All his focus is on the tight flesh surrounding his fingers. When three glide smoothly in and out, Jared pressing back and keening, they're ready.

Sheathed in Jared's body, pausing until they both can ease back from the edge and dull the sharp sensations, Jensen finds a moment of peace. No thoughts, no terror, just the two of them shaking and stretching. Jared's legs are spread wide, bracketing Jensen's hips and he stays close - chooses contact over power. His boyfriend craves it too, pulling Jensen down so they're nose to nose, sharing the same air.

Their elbows knock together and Jensen's rhythm is far from perfect but it's infinitely better than the last time. Jensen's not out of his mind with horror and adrenaline; Jared is active, moaning along with Jensen's thrusts, instead of fucked out and spent.

Jared's hissing his name, each repetition more desperate and beautiful than the last.

"What, Jare?" Jensen whispers back, breath tormenting the delicate skin of Jared's ear. "What do you need?"

"Jen, Jen, come on..."

Instead of telling, Jared shows him. He's strong enough to lock his legs behind Jensen's back, surging up into his lap. Jensen can feel the immediate burn in his thighs, quadriceps straining to thrust up with his cock driven so deep in Jared's body. But Jared's rocking forcefully, taking what he needs and bringing Jensen along for the ride.

"Fuck, Jen, want to come with you inside me."

The dirty words are murmured into his neck and Jensen tries to move a hand to Jared's dick, but he can't without losing his balance. Jared shifts them, controlling a near-perfect tempo of thrusts and rubbing himself off against Jensen's abs.

He holds out as long as he can but it's all too good, Jared's hot breath and hot body wringing his orgasm a few minutes later. Arms wrapped around him, Jensen feels Jared's embrace tighten with each pulse of his emptying cock, knowing exactly how it's making his boyfriend feel. He tries to stay upright, but flops back onto the bed, Jared astride his thighs, managing to reach up and join Jared's own hand on his dick. It only takes a moment before Jared's spilling on his chest, the motions and fluttering of muscles sending a pleasant wave through Jensen's body.

"I'm never leaving this bed again." Jared stretches out at his side once they've cleaned themselves off and Jensen's ditched his contacts.

"Good," Jensen mutters sleepily, hoping Jared means it. He could keep him here, safe, until Jensen can do his job.

He closes his eyes, truly starting to relax for the first time in a week. The thrum of anxiety never goes away but he forces it back enough to start drifting off to sleep.

"Hey," Jensen opens his eyes at the soft whisper, sees Jared leaning over him and not looking too far from sleep. "You okay?"

"M’hmm, what're you talking about?" He turns his face against Jared's shoulder, just wants to sleep in peace now that he's got his boyfriend back.

"There's something here," Jared lightly touches his forehead, "something that's bothering you."

"Not now, Jare," he yawns. "Can't we just..." Sleep? Ignore it? Leave it? He doesn't know what to ask for but Jared answers everything.

"Yeah, Jen, we can..."



Jensen, this sucks.

I tried.

Could've fooled me.

Don't say that. I did everything I could.

You always were a shitty liar, Jen. There was more. I asked, remember?

What?

There's no answer now, silence in the empty lab.

Jensen knows this is a nightmare - the fourth in as many nights. He can't pull himself out of it, subconscious like a battering ram, brutal and insistent.

He takes a deep breath, feeling like he's going to come apart any second. The room is dark, almost intimate as he touches the body in front of him; it's cold and unnatural but still familiar.

Jared's eyes are closed, pale skin reflecting the dim, blue lights. His body is flawless, as perfect in death as Jensen was able to experience in life. That's what tells Jensen he's having another sleep-terror. Jared's always unmarked, whole. The things he can imagine when he's awake, well, Jensen's almost glad his unconscious mind doesn't subject him to those, too.

Jensen.

Jared's body disappears, only a bare metal slab in front of him.

Jensen.

He's gone; Jensen feels his lungs squeeze.

Jensen...


He starts awake, the repeated dream still vivid behind his eyelids. It's changed bit by bit since the first time he had it - Jared's disappearing faster and faster.

But this time, his saving grace lies beside him. The dreams were infinitely worse when Jensen woke to an empty bed. Now Jared's here and he suddenly knows what he needs to do.

When he thinks about it, ever since Jared walked into his life, Jensen's just wanted to be fucking happy. Before, he's not sure he knew what that word truly meant, but he's had it and will fight before he gives it up. Jensen knows he can't go back to being numb, won't lose Jared, even willingly.

A few months ago, Jensen could have given up a lover, but not now. Not him. He can admit that he's changed. Or rather, pieces of his personality, buried under every sin and horror Vegas could dump on him, were slowly revealed thanks to the actor. He can't say his life was meaningless before he met Jared, but his job was the only thing that meant something.

Jensen can't keep the secret any longer - it's not fair. Jared's been so open, so trusting, and so willing to listen to whatever Jensen needs to vent about. He can't quite dispel the fear that settles along with the decision - Jared could easily walk away from him once he knows the depth of what Jensen's been hiding. He hopes he knows his boyfriend well enough to say that it's unlikely, but he just isn’t sure.

And if he walks away, that's a fight Jensen's more than willing to undertake.

Mind made up, Jensen's willing to let them both get a few more hours of sleep.

It's the least he can do before everything possibly goes to hell.



Jared's usually out of bed before him, and Jensen can hear the bathroom sink running when he wakes up and stretches.

"Hey," Jared emerges from the bathroom, hair wet and dripping on his t-shirt. "I threw one of your frozen lasagna things in the oven before my shower. It should be done in like ten minutes."

His boyfriend's rubbing some sort of lotion on his face, always complaining about the drier air in Nevada. Jensen just watches, preserving the few minutes of complete normality.

"Then, we definitely need to go grocery shopping since I used most of your leftovers last night and you're out of regular coffee-"

"Jared, we have to talk."

His rambling pauses for a second. "It can't wait?"

"No."

Breathed into that single word is everything Jensen's felt over the last few weeks. Broken and terrified. Determined and confused. Numb and remade. Connected as they are, Jared hears every nuance of meaning.

"Okay."

He comes and sits beside Jensen on the bed, his expression steeled, obviously expecting Jensen to launch right into things.

Jensen takes a deep breath and tries not to let anything show on his face. "I can't tell you here, get dressed."

"Where are we going?" Jensen wants to ignore the note of concern he hears.

"To the lab. I have to show you something." He looks away and moves to get out of bed.

"Jensen?"

When he turns back he can't quite read the expression Jared's wearing. His boyfriend opens his mouth, then quickly shuts it and shakes his head.

Jensen forces a smile. "I'll buy you good coffee on the way."



"Jared..."

"Shut up, Jen."

"I couldn't keep this from you any-"

"Jensen," he grinds out, much harsher and lower this time. "Shut the fuck up."

He'd be lying if he said he expected Jared to react well, being told he's been threatened by a homicidal psychopath. However, he's barely reacted at all. He'd been quiet on the drive over, sipping at his coffee to avoid talking, and Jensen hadn't tried.

Walking into Jensen's office, indifferent or oblivious to the stares he'd attracted along the way - despite the fact that only Jensen's team, Ryland, and Ecklie worked on the case, lab gossip ensured everyone else knew about it - Jared just stared during Jensen's halted and emotional rundown of the case. Jensen could see his eyes jumping from paper to paper, taking in the blown up images of him running and multiple printouts of the written threat. Jared momentarily paused on the sketch of the mutilated hand and Jensen knew he was putting the pieces together himself.

Jensen looks over at Ecklie, sitting in the office with them. When he brought Jared in, even Nick had offered to join them for support, but Conrad was the only one he allowed for the meeting. As the head of the lab, and the person most likely to be blamed if a Hollywood actor was harmed on their watch, his boss was not sitting this one out.

But Jensen’s glad for the silent support, even if Ecklie had started telling him off when he came in, angry at being ignored until he saw Jared walk in nervously behind Jensen. That nervousness had disappeared quickly, morphing into the blank expression they’re faced with now.

“The media?”

Lost in his own mind, Jensen almost misses the quiet question. Jared’s not looking at him, though, focusing on Ecklie who thankfully answers.

“Doesn’t have a clue, Mr. Padalecki.” It’s too strange hearing Jared’s name from Conrad, spoken so matter-of-factly. “The threat came directly to Jensen, and the original case had next to no coverage. Since you’re not asking, I assume you know some details of the original homicide.”

He nods and Ecklie glances at Jensen. Sharing evidence in an unsolved case is serious, but his boss seems to be letting it slide. Jensen wants to say something, but Jared’s narrow gaze is stopping him. He needs to make this right, but he can’t see a way to get there.

“It was just the single threat?” At least it’s a relevant question, Jensen concedes, and he’s the one who responds.

“Just the one, three weeks ago. Jared, I’m sorry-“

“You should have fucking told me.” The subdued and painful whisper cuts Jensen and shuts him up for good, because no matter what Jensen tries to say, Jared is right. It’s a truth he’s known deep down since the day he got the package, no matter how much he avoided it.

Jared’s still staring, unknowingly mirroring the way Jensen stands and obsesses over their evidence. He’s waiting for the blow-up, the reaction, but it’s not coming. If anything, Jared seems thrown off and angry, a fair distance from freaking out.

His boyfriend's profile is set and firm. Jensen's seen it before, and though he's not getting verbal clues, he knows Jared's thoughts are running at light speed. It's the look Jared gets when Jensen helps him run lines, providing commentary and advice - Jared taking it all in and processing. Seeing sharp eyes and a rigid set to his jaw, Jensen imagines Jared's doing the same thing now - working things out. In a few minutes he'll take a deep breath, turn to Jensen and Conrad and start-

“I can get a cab out front, right?”

What?

“Diana at the main desk can call one for you,” Ecklie says before Jensen can start protesting. “But I’d advise you to-“

“I’ll be fine.” Jared turns hard and confused eyes on Jensen. “I need to make some calls.” Give me time, Jensen hopes he can hear beneath the statement. Almost as if he knows Jensen is listening carefully to and dissecting anything he says, Jared’s voice remains level and flat.

“It’s my day off,” he attempts weakly, even though he knows Jared doesn’t want him home.

“We could use Jensen here, Mr. Padalecki,” Ecklie interrupts. “Please call us if you have any questions.”

Jensen can’t believe Conrad’s dismissing Jared like he would any normal witness or cleared suspect. He has the sudden urge to lock Jared in this office until the bastard is caught, but Jared’s look pins him in place and keeps him quiet.

There's a brief flash of something in Jared's eyes when he looks over and Jensen almost flinches, expecting Jared to lay into him. It's sharp but fleeting, and when it vanishes, Jensen opens his mouth to question it, to say anything, because he recognizes that Jared's about to flee.

"Stop, Jen." He's sure his jaw makes a sound when it slams shut at Jared's sober plea. Now all he can see in Jared's eyes is pain. "Just don't."

Jared doesn’t shake Ecklie’s hand when he walks out, just disappears from Jensen’s office leaving the two older men speechless.

And leaving Jensen feeling like the world's biggest fuck up.

Ecklie doesn't say anything and Jensen hardly notices him slip out; he's suddenly alone with their evidence, every piece incriminating, mapping the extent of Jensen's impotence at this moment.

With no witnesses and no support, Jensen breaks just a little. A sharp burst of rage jolts through him; he picks up a coffee mug from his desk and throws it against the wall, as hard as he can. It shatters completely but barely dislodges any of the papers.

Jensen sinks to his knees with a single thought in his head.

This bastard's dead.

FIN.


The J2 CSI 'Verse continues in I Offer You Explanations of Yourself.





NOTES: All right, this installment is almost an interlude. The previous stories take place over a number of weeks, but this one was 24 hours of insanity and angst. It was essential, if short, to get me to the point I needed to be for the next installment.

Thank you for reading! Feedback is welcome, the story is unbetaed. The rest of my stories, including the CSI 'Verse, can be found HERE. Title from a Jorge Luis Borges poem, via arlad.