Chapter Text
In the stormy darkness of the early morning hours, the old mansion stood high on the sea cliff in defiance of the severe wind and rain. The battering was courtesy of the hurricane raging offshore. The made the old mansion seem dark, cold, and foreboding. The sole occupant was Jensen Ackles, a forty-four-year-old investment analyst, whose ancestors had built the mansion over a century ago.
Awakened by the thunder, Jensen rolled over and pushed himself to a seated position on the side of his bed. His breathing immediately became rapid and shallow, and his head began to swim. He sat there for a moment to let his body acclimate while he enjoyed the sound of the storm.
Fighting the tormenting aches in his body, he found his feet slowly and used the flashes of lightning, generously provided by the storm, to make his way to the bathroom. Weakness and pain forced him to use the furniture and walls to help balance his six-foot-one-inch body.
Fighting his pain and breathing with each step, he finished his morning routine of showering, shaving, brushing his teeth, applying deodorant and after shave, and brushing his hair. He slowly and painfully returned to his bedroom to dress in slacks and a polo shirt. He had no choice but to sit on his bed and rest before he could finish. As defiant as his house, he fought his body to dress and make his way downstairs to the kitchen. Though his progress was slow and he needed to stop several times to rest and catch his breath, he was successful.
The stately old mansion was once bustling with family and staff at all hours. Over the years, each generation had fewer children—Jensen’s generation was his older brother, Josh, and himself. The number of staff required declined with the number of family members living in the mansion. Jensen’s staff consisted of a monthly landscaping crew of three, a monthly maintenance crew of two, a monthly cleaning crew of three, two cooks who alternated days off, two maids who alternated days off, and a daily aide who was hired through a home healthcare service. The latter was at the insistence of his best friend and doctor, Jeff Morgan.
Jensen didn’t feel he needed the aide since he had so many staff at any given time during the day, and he preferred being alone at night. The peace and quiet allowed him to maintain his equilibrium, but Jeff was adamant that, if needed in an emergency, an aide would be closer than a cook who might be on a different floor of the huge home. Jensen had already dismissed the services of three: one for stealing from him, another for spending all his time flirting with the staff, and the last for acting as though he was employer and owner of Jensen’s staff and home. The current aide, however, was the worst.
Jensen was not an easy man. He was the first to say he was difficult to get along with. He was an honest and fair man, but he was not a man to tolerate inappropriate attitude or ignorance. He would not tolerate the attitude and behavior of his previous aides.
As much as he wanted toast and coffee, he wanted to be seated at the kitchen table with it when his current aide arrived. That mouthy young man was trying to bully Jensen into moving to a first floor bedroom, an act the frail man knew meant he would never see the upstairs of his home again. He would not allow that to happen without a fight. His studio was across from his bedroom, and even though he hadn't set foot in there in nearly two decades, he had no intention of having the choice to enter be taken from him.
The old house moaned and creaked as the lightning continued to flash, providing more than enough illumination to see where he was walking. He laboriously made his way down the back stairs, pausing several times to lean against the wall in order to rest his aching body and catch his breath. Reaching the lower floor, he sat on the bench that had been beside the stairway for as long as he could remember. After resting for several moments, he did something he swore he would never do: disgusted at himself for even considering it, he reached over and removed his grandfather’s cane from the umbrella stand to use for the rest of his quest.
Despite his disgust, he found his journey to the kitchen a bit easier using the cane. He walked across the room and turned on the kitchen light, unsurprised to find it dimmer than usual. That meant the storm had knocked out power and the generator had kicked in. He took his time and started the coffee brewing. While he waited for it, he took his morning medication and, leaning against the counter for support, made himself a slice of toast with apple jelly.
When the coffee had finished brewing, he carefully poured himself a cup and made his way to the kitchen table. The constant ache of his lower back was nearly drowned out by the piercing pain in his left hip. His breathing was labored and shallow. His energy was nearly depleted, and his whole body was shaking. He knew he would be weak the rest of the day because of this, but at least his damn aide would see that he could, in fact, still get around his own home.
Of course, he had no intention of telling his cocky bastard of an aide that it took him over an hour to perform such a simple task or how much of a toll it truly took on him.
He sat at the table sipping his coffee and watching the storm slowly move offshore. Just as enough light filled the sky for the world to know it was daytime, the front door opened and someone entered. The home health aide staggered his way down the hall and into the kitchen. The young man stumbled to the sink where he began splashing his face with cold water.
Jensen said loudly and firmly, “Mr. Abel, I believe I have instructed you on multiple occasions to ring the doorbell when you arrive so that I know you’re entering my home.”
The aide spun around in surprise, splashing water over the counter and floor, and said, “Damn, Jensen! What are you doing down here? You know I want you in bed when I’m not here.”
Taking a deep breath between each sentence and trying not to show how difficult it was, Jensen said, “First, it’s Mr. Ackles, and you are well aware of that. Second, this is my home and life. What you want means absolutely nothing. Third, how dare you come in here drunk?”
Abel snidely slurred, “I’m not drunk. Now, let me wipe up this water and make a pot of coffee, then I'll help you back to bed where you should be.”
“You stumbled your way from the front door to the kitchen sink, you reek of alcohol, you’re slurring your words,” Jensen sat back and raised his cup, “and you don’t even have the faculties to realize I’ve already made coffee.”
“Maybe I just like my coffee better.”
Jensen sat up straight and said, “Jake Abel, from your first day as my aide, you’ve been nothing but an insolent bully. Your services are no longer required. I’ll thank you to leave my house now.”
Abel had gotten himself a glass of water as Jensen spoke. Now he threw it into the sink, leaving shards of glass scattered over the sink, counter, and floor. He yelled, “You’re going to die here alone, Jensen Ackles, because you’re such a bastard that absolutely no one gives a damn about you.”
Lightning flashed brightly and thunder cracked right above the mansion as Jensen growled threateningly, “Get the hell out of my house.”
Abel tried to stare Jensen down, but there was a fiery flare of anger in Jensen's eyes that matched the fury of the storm outside. Fear coursed through Abel's body and sent him running so fast he nearly fell on his face leaving the kitchen.
After Abel fled, Jensen took his cell from the pocket of his slacks and called the home health service. After reporting and complaining about Abel, he requested a new daily aide. It wasn't that he wanted a new aide, it was that he knew Jeff would arrange for new one if he didn't.
Slowly and painfully, Jensen had just poured himself a second cup of coffee and returned to the table when his phone rang. Expecting it to be the service calling with details about his new aide, he was surprised to see Jeff Morgan’s name on the caller ID.
He answered with a false sweetness he knew would irritate his friend, saying, “Jeff, I didn't expect to hear from you this morning. Are you calling to tell me you've come to your senses and realized I don’t need an aide?”
Knowing Jensen well after being his friend and doctor for years, Dr. Jeff Morgan ignored the tone and replied in a friendly voice, “Good morning to you too, Jensen. Your aide is the reason I called. I know what you reported about Mr. Abel, and I believe everything you said. Only speaking with him once, I can honestly say I don't like the man.”
“Then why this early morning call?”
The doctor half chuckled in Jensen's ear. “I said I don't like him. I didn't say that I don't believe some of what he said.”
“I don't know why you would believe anything that dishonorable man would say.”
“Because I know you better than he does, and some of what he said is exactly what you would do. I have to tell you, Jensen, I'm worried.”
“What in God's name could he have told you that has you worried?”
“You're still in your kitchen, aren't you? You haven't gotten enough strength back to walk to another room, much less return to your bedroom.”
Jensen angrily replied, “I'm still in my kitchen because I'm still drinking coffee, and I have a broken glass to clean up that Mr. Abel, without apology, left for me.”
“Leave the glass. Your new aide will be there before your house staff arrives. It's your new aide I'd like to discuss with you. His name is Jared Padalecki, and he is your new live-in aide.”
Jensen tried to yell, but his breathing made his voice come out in a harsh screech, “No! Not a chance, Jeff! Just no! I refuse to have a stranger living in my home! You have no right to make that decision!”
Jeff continued calmly, “I don’t like you being in that huge mansion alone all night, every night. Since you refuse to hire someone for a twenty-four hour position, I have.
“Now, Mr. Padalecki is forty-two-years-old, fully qualified to assist you with day-to-day activities, trained to provide emergency care until medical professionals arrive, and even capable of preparing your meals should a cook be out sick. He’s been thoroughly investigated, and he’s never had so much as a parking ticket on his record.”
“I don’t care if he’s the Pope’s son,” Jensen paused to gasp for air before he continued, “I don’t want a stranger living in my home, and you damn well know that.”
“I would think you would find that preferable to moving to a nursing home.”
Jensen huffed. “Given that my only living relative would rather see me dead than bother to make those arrangements, I don’t believe that’s something I need to worry about.”
Jeff's tone changed from professional to personal, almost angry, when he said, “Jensen, we’ve known each other since we were kids, and you’re one of my best friends. You should damn well know I’ll make the arrangements myself and go before a judge if necessary.”
Jensen yelled into the phone, “You wouldn’t dare!”
Jeff calmly said, “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my friend alive as long as possible. Mr. Padalecki will be there shortly.” Jeff disconnected the call.
Angrier than he remembered ever being in his life, Jensen threw his coffee cup and added more shards to the pile of glass across the room. It was only the bright flash of lightning through the window that prevented him from seeing every shard of broken glass rise two feet into the air before falling again.
He paid for it, however. Now he was weaker than before and would be almost completely dependent upon Padalecki for the rest of the day. That made him even more furious. He did the only thing he could do—he sat and waited for his new aide to arrive.
Thirty minutes later, just moments after Jensen managed to get himself a fresh cup of coffee, the front door opened and a voice called out, “Mr Ackles, it’s Jared Padalecki, Sir. I was given the key and told to announce myself.”
Jensen called back just loudly enough to be heard, “I'm in the kitchen, last room on the left.”
Jared entered the room wearing a polo shirt and jeans. He had a duffle bag slung over one shoulder which he dropped to the floor and went straight to Jensen.
He said, “At the risk of appearing rude by postponing the pleasantries, I was told there is some glass that needs to be cleaned up. Are you cut anywhere, Mr. Ackles?”
Impressed that the aide put his client’s welfare ahead of everything else, Jensen’s demeanor wasn’t as harsh as normal as he replied, “No, Mr. Padalecki, just angry that I don’t have the strength to clean it up myself.”
“Call me Jared, Sir. When someone says ‘Mr. Padalecki,’ I usually turn around to look for my father.”
“While I appreciate the gesture, I don’t know you well enough yet to feel comfortable being on a first name basis with you.”
Jared smiled and said, “As you wish, Sir. Do you need anything before I clean the glass?”
“That falls more under the job description of my maid who will be here in about an hour, but if you don’t mind, I would like you to clean the glass, please. It’s irritating just knowing the mess is over there even though I can’t see much of it from here.”
Jared nodded and said, “I’ll be right back so we can have a proper introductory talk.”
Jensen watched as Jared quickly and efficiently cleaned the mess. As Jared finished, Jensen said, “Mr. Padalecki, feel free to help yourself to coffee or whatever you wish.”
“Thank you, Sir. I wouldn’t mind some coffee while we talk. Would you care for more?”
“Yes, thank you. Something about this type of weather makes me crave coffee.”
Jared nodded and poured their coffee before joining Jensen at the table. “Are you comfortable here, Mr. Ackles? Or would you prefer to move to another room?”
“Here is fine for now. You should know, Mr. Padalecki, that I’m beyond angry with my physician for arranging a live-in aide. I do not like the idea of a stranger living in my house, no matter how good his references. You should also know that I am a very difficult person to get along with. You shouldn’t make the mistake Mr. Abel made by thinking that because I'm dependent on you, you can control my every action.”
“On the contrary, Sir, the less dependent you are on me, the easier both our lives will be. As for being a stranger in your home, all I can say is that I was raised to respect other people and their property. I won’t be having guests without your prior knowledge and consent. I won’t be leaving my things everywhere. I won’t be plundering through your belongings without a very good reason, such as finding appropriate clothing for you when you’re not up to it. And coming from a comfortable income, I certainly won’t be stealing from you.”
Jensen huffed and said, “I suppose I should give you a tour then, even though I don’t plan for you to live here long.”
“I was told you’ve already overextended yourself this morning so I think the tour can wait until tomorrow, or one of your staff can show me around. All I need to know today is where you’ll be and where I’ll be sleeping. I’ll help you get settled somewhere comfortable, put my things away, and go through your meds and such to see what you may need. How does that sound?”
“Normally I would say something very sarcastic right now, but there’s something about you, Mr. Padalecki. You don’t seem to push my buttons the way other people do, at least not yet. I would like to sit in my office and get some work done while you get settled.”
Jared grabbed his duffle as Jensen used the aide’s arm on one side and the cane on the other to keep his balance during their walk. Jensen said, “As you came in, you passed the formal living room, a hallway, and the dining room before reaching the kitchen. On the other side is the coat closet and a hallway that we’ll be taking now. Jensen stopped when they reached a hallway to their left and said, “Down this hall on the right is the family living room, the media room, the game room, and a bedroom.”
He pointed straight down the hall to the door at the end and said, “That’s a powder room.”
He pointed to the left side of the hallway and said, “On this side is a full bath, the cleaning supply and maintenance room that leads into the laundry room and the linen closet, and another bedroom.”
He started walking again and made a left turn. “The room on the right is a bedroom suite. The rooms on the left are the library and my office.”
Jared asked, “Are any of these rooms off limits?”
Once in the office, Jensen made his way to his desk and sat down heavily. He answered, “Only my office when I’m not in here.”
Jared nodded and said, “Understood.”
Jensen continued, “Down the hallway to the left of the front door is another dining room entrance on the right, my mother’s parlor on the left past the formal living room, and my grandfather’s office at the end. That room is locked, and I’ve not been able to find the key in all the years since he passed away.
“Past the dining room is another hall. It leads to the back stairs and another powder room.
“Going up the front stairway, my suite is the first on the left. Yours will be the second on the left. Across from you is another suite. Across from me is my studio.
“There is one thing I will remain firm on. My studio is locked, and no one enters but me. Should I find you trying to enter or already inside, I will immediately call the police and have you arrested for attempted theft, no questions asked. Is that clear?”
Jared sat in the chair across the desk from Jensen so he could look his client in the eye. “I promise you I will always do my best to protect your privacy, and that of any guests you may have. As for your studio, I would only stick my head in the door to check on you if you’ve been in there a while and don’t answer if I knock. I will not enter the room unless you need me.”
Jensen nodded and continued, “The front hallway has two suites to the left, another to the right with an alcove on either side to enjoy the scenery. On the right, the hall meets another hall. There are three suites along that hall.”
Jared asked, “Is there an attic or a basement?”
“Looking for treasure that won’t be missed, Mr. Padalecki?”
Jared smiled and said, “Looking for possible insect nests, animal dens, mold, excessive dust, anything detrimental to your health, Mr. Ackles.”
Jensen stared at Jared, sizing him up. He finally said, “There’s no attic per se; there’s a crawl space to reach the vents. It’s only accessible from outside, and it’s maintained regularly. As for the basement, I know there is one, but I don’t know where the entrance is. My guess is it’s in my grandfather’s office. There’s no entrance from outside and no door or hatch anywhere else inside.”
Jared said, “At some point very soon, to protect your health, I’m going to enter every room to check for cleanliness. I won’t enter the rooms you’ve forbidden, but I hope you will check the ones you can soon.”
Jensen asked, “Mr. Padalecki, do you intend to order Mother Nature to stop her activities when my allergies act up in the spring?”
Jared gave a small laugh before saying, “No, Sir. I simply intend to control what I can and try to deal with what I can’t. But now that you mention it, I’ve never tried to negotiate with Mother Nature before so I might give that a try.”
Jensen actually laughed. He hadn’t laughed with anyone other than Jeff in years. In fact, he made it a habit not to, but Jared surprised him so completely with that remark that he couldn’t help but laugh. He pulled himself together and said, “That was funny, Mr. Padalecki. If this home aide thing doesn’t work out, maybe you could give stand-up comedy a chance.”
Jared smiled and asked, “Is there anything you need before I get to work?”
Jensen said, “I have a small stack of files upstairs on my nightstand. Would you bring them to me?”
“Of course, Sir.” When Jared returned with the requested files, he asked, “Would you like a fire lit, Mr. Ackles?”
“Yes, that would be nice.”
After Jared lit the fire, he asked, “Mr. Ackles, do I have your permission to check out your suite? I’ll be looking for medicines, first aid supplies, where you keep your clothes, whether or not you keep linen in your closet, things like that so that I know what I may need to leave the room to get if you have a panic attack or are too weak to get something for yourself.”
Jensen considered before answering, “I know exactly what is in my suite and where it is. Except for my nightstand drawers, go through what you like, but please return the items to their place when you’re done.”
Jared nodded and said, “It won’t take me long to put my things away. Would you like something to eat or drink?”
Jensen glanced at the time on his computer and said, “The cook should be here within minutes. If you wouldn’t mind, would you ask him to prepare some type of soup for lunch? I think a good bowl of soup would be suitable for a day like this, don’t you agree?”
“In fact, I do. I’ll pass along your request when he arrives. Oh, and would it be okay with you if I use the living room to do my paperwork when I’m done checking your supplies?”
Jensen looked up and stared at his new aide for a moment before answering, “I don’t mind that at all. However, I seriously doubt you will find a comfortable way to work there. If your choice of room to work in has anything to do with proximity to me, I suggest the library. There’s proper seating, room to work, and it’s next door.”
Jared smiled slyly. Without admitting Jensen was right, he said, “The library does sound like a better option.”
“And when your work is done, and you find yourself bored, you’re welcome to read any of my books. Just do not bend the pages to mark your place. All I ask is that you take care of them.”
Jared smiled and said, “Thank you, Mr. Ackles.”
To Jensen’s surprise, the rest of the day with Jared went well. He’d expected his aide to insist that he retire to his room after lunch, but was surprised when he met no resistance to returning to his office. This was more than twice the amount of time he’d been downstairs at once in over a year. Neither Abel nor the aide before him would shut up until, just to get away from them, Jensen would agree to go upstairs.
Only once did Jensen snap at Jared, and that was during dinner. The cook had prepared it before going home—all the staff left at that time each day—and Jared served it. When serving the drinks, Jared had poured water for them both. Jensen scathingly snapped, “Do I look like I’m under the legal drinking age to you? Pour me a damn glass of wine or take your meal in another room, or better yet, outside in the cold!”
Jared calmly said, “My apologies, Mr. Ackles, I was under the impression that you were aware of the possible negative interactions between alcohol and some of your medications.”
Jensen realized that, once again, Jared was putting him first. In a tone only mildly calmer, he said, “Dr. Morgan has given me approval to have a glass with dinner as long as I take that particular pill before noon, which I did today. So, Mr. Padalecki, would you be so kind as to do as I asked and pour us each a glass of wine?”
Jared smiled and got a bottle of wine for them.
Jensen had retired to his room earlier than he’d hoped. Even as weak as he was, getting upstairs and settled was faster and easier with his new aide’s help. Jared waited for Jensen to voice his needs rather than forcing his help on his client. Though Jensen refused to show it, that made him more comfortable, and preparing for bed was easier than any other aide had made it.
He blamed it on his lack of energy after the long day, but he was far less physically and emotionally tense, when he went to bed than he expected. He fell asleep easily even knowing a stranger was in his home.
After Jensen was sound asleep, Jared stepped outside on the patio on the opposite side of the house from Jensen’s suite. He stood just out of the rain and made a phone call.
The call was answered with, “How did it go?”
“Better than I expected. Still, this is going to be difficult, Jeff.”
“Did he recognize you at all?”
“He did say that I don’t seem to push his buttons like most people do.”
“Any indication of his heritage?”
“The broken glass.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I cleaned the glass up, all of the shards were pointed in the same direction.”
“What direction?”
“Up.”
“Did he notice that?”
“No, he said he didn’t even like knowing it was there.”
“Be careful, Jared. Go very slowly. Don’t do anything that would remind him of the past.”