Fic - The Awakening (J2)
Title - The Awakening
Summary - Jared is a recruiter from The Agency. Jensen is his mark. When they meet, it's going to change the world.
Rating - PG13
Genre /Spoilers - J2. None.
Warnings - Language (nothing explicit).
Word Count - 1500
Disclaimer - I'm not making a profit, this is just for fun and all the standard disclaimers apply.
A/N - A massive thank you to harrigan for the super fast beta and for all her input, encouragement and words of wisdom. This was written for the 2014 spnspringfling challenge for becc_j's prompt of special powers/abilities. Even though I was matched for all three pairings, I decided to write J2 for the first time ever and I had all kinds of fun!
A/N 2 - You should also check out the stunning artwork featuring Sam/Jess that riverofwind created for my prompt here.
Originally Posted Here
The Awakening
Closing the door of the chauffeur-driven town car, Jared pulls off his sunglasses and tucks them into his breast pocket. This mark hasn’t been red-flagged as dangerous, so he needs to play this differently; he needs to be approachable, not threatening.
He's walking toward the sliding doors when he feels it; a burst of static that crackles inside his skin like an electric shock, stealing the breath from his lungs.
It feels like something is buzzing inside his bones, and while the pain seems to be receding, Jared can still feel something heavy in the air around him. He scans the surroundings, knuckles instinctively brushing over the standard issue tranq gun tucked inside his hip holster.
He's by the docks, surrounded by large warehouses and trendy brick apartments. A few cars are parked along the sidewalk, but they're all empty. Across the street there's a woman pushing a stroller, singing an out-of-tune lullaby to a kid that's bawling its eyes out.
But there's no sign of a Special. No sign of an attack.
Jared tells himself that there's nothing in The Agency's file to suggest that this could be an ambush. The mark has been vetted and he's clean. It's nothing like what happened in the alley six months ago.
Rolling his tense shoulders loose, Jared pulls open the sliding doors of the warehouse and heads into the gallery, his senses on high alert.
It's bright inside, glass roof panels filling the large open space with natural light. The whitewashed walls are covered in canvases of different sizes. To the right, the art is all painted in vibrant colours and abstract shapes. Even from where he's standing, Jared can see at least six sold stickers.
To the left is a reminder of why he's here. There's a huge finely painted portrait of the train crash that killed hundreds in India just yesterday. Next to it, there's a painting of the F5 tornado that took out two towns in Kansas last week. There's dozens more leaning in a stacked pile against the wall.
Jared hears soft footsteps and turns to see a man walking towards him, his stride bowlegged but confident. He's tall, casually dressed, and he's staring at Jared through a pair of designer glasses.
This is the mark.
“Jared Padalecki,” he says with a smile he hopes is welcoming and non-threatening, as he holds out his hand. “I'm a recruiter from The Agency-”
“I know who you are.” The mark swipes his hands down his paint-splashed jeans. He looks relaxed, at ease, as he carries on walking towards Jared until there's only a foot separating them. “It really is you. You have no idea how long I've been waiting.”
Jared wants to take a step back, this guy really is up in his face. But while Jared's good in a fight, even for a Regular, it doesn't feel like he's being asked for one.
Then he notices the thickness of the mark's prescription lenses and how he's squinting his green eyes. The Agency's file said he has poor vision, just not when it comes to seeing and painting the future.
“Jensen,” his mark says with a smile, reaching forward to shake his hand. “But I guess you already knew that.”
Before they touch, Jared feels a surge of electricity build inside him. It pulses in his head and then like a firecracker, it's shooting through his veins, pulling a groan from his lips. He ducks his head and tries to ride it out.
“It's happening right now, isn't it?”
Jensen sounds worried and Jared wants to say that he's fine, even if it is a lie, but he just can't force the words out.
Jared watches as Jensen reaches for his hand, sees the sparks that fly as a bolt of red static electricity shoots out of his fingers and into Jensen, who gasps, but still grips his hand.
He feels hot, and then it burns, but Jensen is still squeezing his hand, and he should let go but he doesn't want to. Instead Jared just squeezes back like that's what he's meant to do.
Like a release button has been pressed, Jared can feel the energy inside him fizzle and die. But everything feels different. Like something deep inside him has been awakened.
He's breathing hard, and his mouth is bone-dry and shit, what the hell was that?
Jensen's looking at him with worried eyes and a furrowed brow. “You need to follow me.”
Before Jared really knows what's happening, Jensen has turned around and is walking towards a door at the back of the gallery. Shaking away the grey from his vision, and ignoring just about all the training he's had about Specials, Jared trusts his gut and follows.
Jensen pulls open a sliding door that opens onto a small courtyard. At the bottom, there's a building, maybe a garage. Jensen pulls out a set of keys from his jeans pocket and unlocks what looks like an excessive amount of padlocks.
Pushing open the door, Jensen waves him inside the windowless building and snaps on a light switch.
Jared squints at the harsh artificial light. The room is filled with paintings, hundreds, maybe more. They're like photographs, snapshots of time, and they're all of Jared.
The time he fell off his bike and broke his wrist when he was twelve, birthdays, his Dad's funeral, his first day at The Agency, the time he was ambushed in an alley by three Specials. Some, he can't place or remember, but then there's the ones with him and Jensen. There's one of them in a park holding hands and one of them with a dog he doesn't own, in an apartment he's never seen before. Then there's the one hung on the wall of them standing ankle-deep in the ocean, Jared's arm pulling Jensen close to his chest, lips brushing his forehead as the sun sinks into the horizon.
Shit.
“There were more, but my foster parents threw a lot away when I was a kid. All the ones that I still have are stored here.” Jensen's standing next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and Jared can feel it building again, pinpricks of unreleased energy searing into his skin.
Jensen walks towards the large wooden desk that's in the middle of the room; it's covered in stacks of sketchbooks and glass jars filled with paintbrushes and pencils. Jensen picks up one of the books from the top of the pile and hands it to Jared.
Flicking through the pages of pencil and charcoal sketches, Jared pauses as one catches his eye. He and Jensen are standing in the gallery, their hands are not quite touching, but sparks and bolts of electricity are connecting them.
Jensen pushes his glasses up his nose, his face a little flushed. “I know this must be freaking you out, but I'm not a stalker or anything. We've never met before today, but I've been drawing you for as long as I can remember.”
Jared doesn't know what to say, doesn't know what to do, or even what any of this means. Despite his childhood dreams of being a Special, he's a Regular, The Agency tested him for months before they hired him as a recruiter. No one has ever just turned into a Special in a matter of minutes. This can't be happening.
But it's clear that he has some sort of connection with Jensen - like maybe he was awakening some sort of dormant power within Jared?
Swallowing the lump in his throat, his brain processing all the options about what he needs to do next, Jared scans the paintings; his past and future, all laid out for him.
Then he sees it. A painting that fills the entire gable wall. No, it's been painted directly onto the wall. He's standing on a high-rise looking down at the city below. Jensen is next to him, fingers biting into Jared's arm, tears in his eyes as he stares at the bolts of bright red electricity that are shooting down Jared's arms and out of his fingers, hitting a dark black shape that looms over the city.
“I don't remember painting it.” Jensen's voice is rough and haunted. Like this is his worst nightmare. “I just woke up, and there it was. I was still holding the paintbrush.”
Jared can't stop staring at the painting, at how lost and terrified Jensen looks, like he's desperate at the thought of losing Jared. “What's happening, Jensen? What's happening to us?”
They're both still staring at the painting and Jared feels a crackle under his skin as Jensen reaches for his hand, their fingers knotting as they both hold onto each other tightly.
“Together, I think we're gonna save the world.”
The End