Fic - Technicolour Revolution (J2)
Title - Technicolour Revolution
Summary - J2 AU Superpowers/Sci fi. In a black and white world where colour is outlawed, Jensen is a bounty hunter who apprehends the mysterious 'Painters' and turns them over to the Company. Then one day Jared shares a secret with Jensen that will change their lives forever.
Rating - PG13
Genre/Spoilers - J2. None.
Warnings - Mild Language. A little blood if you're sqeamish.
Word Count - 3500+
Disclaimer - I'm not making a profit, this is just for fun and all the standard disclaimers apply.
A/N - This was written for the 2014 spn_j2_xmas secret santa exchange for becc_j. I've mixed and matched a few of your prompts and likes and I hope you enjoy the result. I wish you all the best for the holiday season. A huge thank you to my awesome beta harrigan. Not only did you beta this twice, but you fixed what was broken and made the whole thing stronger. Thank you so much for being in my corner!! Thank you also to the wonderful mods for all thier hard work.
A/N 2 - The oh so talented amberdreams has created a beautiful piece of art for quicky_bang for the fic and I love it! Please check it out here and send her some love!
Technicolour Revolution
The riots have emptied this part of the city. The shops Jensen walks past are either boarded up, or wide open and empty due to looters. Most of the apartment buildings are windowless, and blackened from flames and smoke. There's no traffic, and the road is still littered with debris.
Being here brings it all back. The chants of the peaceful protesters outside his apartment building, with their black and white placards, demanding Jensen's freedom; and the sight of the Company's riot police storming the streets, squashing them like bugs under their sturdy boots.
Jensen will never forget that. The day his city was torn apart, and all he could do was watch.
Being here now makes him feel on edge, like he's being watched. Picking up his pace, Jensen tips his head down so that his fedora covers his face, and turns sharply into a secluded alley to his right.
It's getting dark and the temperature is dropping. Jensen shoves his hands into the pockets of his long black coat, and waits.
He hears footsteps farther down the alley, and then Jared appears from behind a tall stack of wooden crates.
“What's going on, Jared?” The words are laced with anger. They’ve been best friends since childhood, but he hasn't heard from Jared since the riots, and he must have seen Jensen's face all over the newspapers. Not a word until a few hours ago, when Jared slipped a terse message in with Jensen’s food delivery. And then he didn’t even bother to show up at the scheduled rendezvous until Jensen was half-frozen.
Jared's gaze is flicking nervously around the alley, his lips pinched, like he's worried. But he doesn't say anything.
“You know I got busted, right? Because of the boy. I'm supposed to be on house arrest right now, and the only reason I'm here is because the rookie officer outside my front door is too wet behind the ears to figure out that there's a fire escape outside my window.” Jensen takes a step closer, until he's right in Jared's face. “You begged me to meet you here and now I'm risking my career for you. Hell, I'm risking my life for you, and you got nothin' to say?”
Jensen grits his teeth and stares at Jared. The white tails of his shirt are untucked from his black slacks, there's a small cut on his eyebrow, and beads of sweat are clinging to his upper lip.
“Why didn't you stun that boy?” Jared's tone is urgent, but he takes a step away from Jensen, like he's trying to hide something. “I need to know what happened. It's important.”
The boy was a Painter, a threat to the black and white world they live in. Jensen can still see the fear in the boy's wide-open eyes as he uncontrollably painted that alley every colour that he could imagine, all with the power of his mind.
Jensen was supposed to stun the boy, and deliver him to the Company. But in that moment all he could think about was how this boy would just disappear like all the other Painters. Exiled-or locked away, never to be seen again.
Before that moment, Jensen had never questioned his job. He'd always liked rules and orders; being in control. That's why he’d been plucked from the orphanage so many years ago and sent to the Academy to prepare for a career as a bounty hunter. The work suited him, and a Company job and a Company apartment were more than he ever dreamed of, back when he was a street urchin tagging after Jared. He’d wanted something more-and he’d finally earned it. He had a good life now, success, a reputation.
But all that changed when he found the boy painting graffiti on the grey brick walls. He’d raised his gun-and saw a trembling kid who was about to be wrenched away from his family forever. Jensen froze. And then he’d holstered his weapon and looked the other way as the boy bolted for freedom.
“I couldn't do it.” Jensen says, clearing the lump in his throat. “I couldn't stun him. He was just a kid.” It's as close to the truth as Jensen's willing to go right now. Judging by the way that Jared's looking at him right now, brow furrowed and eyes full of questions, he knows there’s more to it too.
A cold wind whips trash down the alley, and an old newspaper flutters past their feet. Jensen sees his own face on the front page.
The Company owns the newspaper. Maybe they meant the news coverage as a warning: look what happens to people who defy the law. They didn't expect it to backfire, for people to protest. Jensen didn't either.
“You can't go back. To the apartment, or to the Company.” Jared says, his gaze still scanning the alley, like he feels it too; they're not alone here. “You know that right?”
Suddenly, Jensen begins to worry that the reason he’d escaped so easily is because the Company wanted him to-wanted to see where he’d go. He glances over his shoulder, tense, all-too-painfully aware now of how it must feel to be the target of a bounty hunter.
“The people of the city made a stand against the Company when they protested for you, demanding your freedom and full pardon for letting that Painter boy go.” Jared takes a few steps backwards into the shadows. “The Company won't just forget that. They need to get rid of you, one way or the other.”
Jensen knows that when he chose to meet Jared here, he wouldn't be going back. Too much has happened in the last few days and now his blind loyalty and devotion to the Company is over. His eyes are wide open and he's starting to see things differently.
Jared locks his gaze on Jensen. “Do you trust me?”
Jensen wants to remind Jared that he doesn't have any family left, that Jared is the only person in the city that he can trust. But only one word comes out of his mouth. “Yes.”
“Then I need to take you somewhere.”
XoXoX
They don't talk. Jensen watches Jared's back like a hawk as they travel deeper into the thick shadows of the network of alleyways.
It's dark, and Jensen's eyes and ears are on full alert for anyone who could be tailing them. His hand instinctively pushes aside his long black coat as he reaches for his weapon.
“Dammit,” he whispers as he realises that his hip-holster is empty. The Company confiscated his stun gun when he was arrested.
Jensen hears a deep groan slip out of Jared's lips, his shoulders rising and falling erratically like he's trying to catch his breath. He stumbles, his feet clumsy and uncoordinated.
“Shit,” Jensen says as he reaches for Jared, steering them over to the support of a wall. Jared's coat scratches against the brick as he slides down on to the tarmac.
“You OK?” Squinting in the poor light, Jensen notices the arm of Jared's coat is wet and shiny.
Jared snorts. “Well, I think I've been shot. But other than that...”
With a racing heart, Jensen tugs the coat off Jared's shoulders. The white shirt underneath is soaked with blood so red that it's burning into Jensen's corneas.
There's a hole in Jared's shirt along his collarbone, and with shaking fingers Jensen tears the material apart. Something-a bullet?-has scored a long, ragged wound cutting across the top of his shoulder, raw and nasty-looking. Jared's bleeding like a stuck pig.
Jensen covers the wound with his hand and applies pressure, staring dumbly at his red-slicked hands. He can't remember the last time he saw red blood. Being a bounty hunter, he's seen some colour during some of his cases. But his exposure is always limited; bounty hunters have strict protocols that need to be followed to the letter.
“We need to keep moving.” Jared's voice sounds off, his vowels sliding lazily off his tongue. “We're nearly there.”
“Keep pressure on that.” Jensen stands up and scans the alley. They're alone. No one has seen the red. But Jared needs medical attention, and Jensen's not sure how many contacts he still has. “I'm not sure-”
“Just help me up.” With one hand clamped over his shoulder, Jared holds out his free hand and Jensen pulls him to feet. Jared takes a deep breath and then he's walking, swaying a little on his feet as he takes a sharp turning to the left and then the right.
Jared picks up his pace and Jensen matches it, shaking his head. Jared's always been stubborn, even when they were kids.
Up ahead, Jensen can see a single light above a set of double doors on a tall building. A beacon in the dark of the night.
Jared stops in front of the door and knocks twice. Jensen's standing so close to Jared's back he can feel his body heat.
A hatch in the door slides open but all Jensen can see is the top half of a bald man's head. He locks eyes with Jared and nods, slamming the hatch closed.
Jared's body tilts sharply to the right, and Jensen ducks under Jared's left arm, pulling him towards his hip, trying to support as much of Jared's weight as he can.
Then the doors open and Jensen drags them both inside.
“He's bleeding.” Jensen staggers a little as Jared's knees buckle.
The bald guy is taller than he expected and he's wearing a black suit, a lit cigarette pinched between his thin lips. He doesn't look surprised or shocked by Jensen's words, or Jared's appearance. He just turns around and walks half a dozen steps across an empty room, and unlocks a door with a huge set of keys that he pulls out of his pocket.
When the door opens, Jensen sees a long dimly-lit corridor and counts at least six closed doors. The stranger unlocks the last door on the left and ushers them inside.
“Stay here.” The bald guy blows a cloud of smoke into the room and then closes the door behind him.
The room is small and the walls are stark-white. But it has a bed and is filled with cupboards and drawers, and what looks like medical supplies.
“You wanna give me at least a little heads-up on where we are?” Jensen tries to sound casual but it's hard, especially when Jared collapses onto the bed, his face whiter than the walls surrounding them.
“We're safe.” Jared's eyes are closed, but he sounds relaxed and calm. But maybe that's the blood loss. “Ally'll be here soon, and she'll fix me up. Then we gotta talk.”
Jensen's got a pit in his gut. Maybe it's because Jared's bleeding all over this white room, maybe it's because he has no idea where he is or who these people are. Or maybe, just maybe, it's because he can feel change in the air, like something big is about to happen.
The door opens and Jensen can't stop his sharp intake of breath. A woman with perfectly curled yellow-blonde hair walks into the room. Her lips are painted a sinful red, and she's wearing a floor-length silk emerald dress that hugs her curves in all the right places.
“What's the matter, sweetheart? You never seen a gal wearing colour before?” She walks past him and heads straight to Jared, worry pinching her features as she snaps on a pair of latex gloves and helps Jared out of his coat.
“Play nice, Ally.” Jared grunts as she examines the wound. “This is Jensen.”
“THE Jensen. Our-hope-for-a-brighter-future Jensen?” Ally looks over her shoulder, eyeing Jensen long and hard before shaking her head. “You wanna picture, sugar? It'll last longer.”
Jensen clears his throat and dips his gaze to the floor. He can hear Ally cut through Jared's shirt with a pair of scissors.
“I told you to be careful,” Ally scolds. “These guys shoot to kill. You were lucky.”
Jared fixes his gaze on Jensen. He looks like shit. But more than anything he looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Jensen wants nothing more than to share the burden.
Ally opens one of the cupboards and pulls out a lot of medical stuff that Jensen is pretty sure he doesn't want to see put into use.
“I'm just gonna...” Jensen points at the door. “I'll wait outside.”
He turns around and leaves the room. He expects to see the bald guy waiting in the corridor but it's empty. He closes the door and rests his back against the wall, taking a deep breath before pulling off his fedora.
Jared's red blood is flaking off his hands.
XoXoX
Jensen jerks out of his thoughts as the door is pulled open. Ally steps into the corridor, the green silk of her dress brushing over the back of his hand as he pulls himself to his feet.
“He'll be OK. But he needs to rest.” Ally's tone is cool, and she's looking at him like she's got something to say. But she presses her lips together with a tiny shake of her head and begins to stride down the corridor.
Before she's taken half-a-dozen steps, she stops and turns, her hand on her hip. “Jared has a lot riding on you.” The words are rushed, and when Ally turns around her teeth are chewing on her red-painted lips. “Just promise me that you'll hear him out, that you'll give him a chance. He deserves it. We all do.”
She doesn't wait for Jensen to respond, just disappears through a door.
Thumbing the rim of his fedora, Jensen turns around and walks back into Jared's room.
“You're still here.” Jared's lying on the bed, his back propped up against a pile of pillows. He's wearing a fresh white shirt, and there's no red blood in sight. But his skin in blanched and his eyelids are drooping.
“Yeah, well, you kinda left me with a few major cliffhangers.” Jensen walks towards Jared and takes a seat next to the bed.
Jared flicks his gaze over his shoulder. “I need to explain a few things, huh? I guess it's now or never. Bite the bullet and all that.”
Jensen nods and watches as Jared takes a deep breath, blowing it steadily out of his parted lips, and then closes his eyes.
It takes Jensen a few seconds to notice, but from the floor upwards the canvas-white walls turn a pale green, the wooden floorboards an oaky-brown, and the cabinets a soft cream. Jensen looks at the fedora in his hands and watches it get painted navy blue, his pinstriped suit too.
His eyes strain as they take in all the colour and warmth of the room. But Jensen can feel Jared watching him.
Jensen's pulse is sky-rocketing. “You're a Painter?”
There's a pause, and then Jared nods. “It started a few weeks ago. I just woke up and I'd painted my apartment and everything in it in my sleep.”
And now it all makes sense. Why Jared had been so distant recently, why he hasn't been in touch since the riots. He's been underground, trying to keep a low profile until he could control his powers.
“Who shot you?” Jensen's guts are churning, because someone he knows could be after Jared. Except bounty hunters don't carry revolvers with live rounds.
“It was a hit squad. I was lucky to lose them.” Jared's voice cracks, his gaze shifting to his hands likes he's trying to shake off the memory of what happened. “The Company is killing Painters. It doesn't matter who they are; women, children, anyone. They want the threat eliminated.”
Jensen takes a deep breath. He's heard rumours, but he thought they were just that. The Company had never informed him about a hit squad. But why would they? Jensen was apparently just a glorified delivery boy.
“Shit, Jared.” Jensen scrubs a hand over face, the bristles of his stubble stinging the palm of his hand. “What are we gonna do? These guys are like rabid dogs. Once they've got your scent they won't stop until you're dead.”
“This is bigger than me. There's more Painters than ever before. Most are in hiding but it's spreading fast.” Jared pushes himself up off the pillows, his injured arm lying across his ribs. “We don't know how, but numbers are growing. We think some were born this way, a rogue gene. But now some people are developing the powers later on in life.”
It's been a while since he's seen this side of Jared; all fired up and determined to change the world. He can still see the glee of a ten year old Jared, bloody-nosed and grinning as he told Jensen how he'd challenged the class bully, Billy Hubbard, to a fight after he stole some other kid’s lunch money. They'd both been suspended but Jared always saw it as a win.
Jared swings his legs off the bed, trying to hide a grimace as he stands. “You need to see something.”
“I really don't think you should be-”
“I'm fine.” Jared slides one of his suspenders up and over his uninjured shoulder, tucking his white shirt into his black slacks. “Follow me.”
Jared weaves through identical grey corridors, until Jensen can hear faint tones of jazz music fill the air. Then Jared pushes open a door, and all Jensen can do is stop and stare.
There's a stage with a four-man band, and a red-headed girl wearing a bright yellow dress is singing smoky tones down a microphone. There's a couple on the dance floor, swaying to the music and Jensen watches as a man spins his girl, her dress changing colour with each spin; orange, blue, pink, lavender.
There's a bar to the right, fully stocked with every liquor that Jensen can imagine. People are drinking and talking, blowing smoke from cigarettes high into the room and sipping on cocktails in every colour of the rainbow.
There are tables and chairs dotted around the room and Jensen's gaze locks on Ally who's sitting alone at a table, tracing her fingers around the rim of a bright blue cocktail in a Martini glass. She smiles at him, and Jensen can see her fingernails turn bright red, one after the other, as she paints them with her mind. She winks at him, and he winks back.
“There's more places like this all over the city. Safe houses, bars, and schools.” Jared steps closer, his shoulder nudging against Jensen's. “We think it’s... well, become something you can choose. Not choose exactly, but people who are open to change, who are brave enough, they’re the ones who are exhibiting the power as adults. I think this is all happening for a reason; the rise in Painters, the riots. It's time for a change. People are ready for a change.”
“Jared-”
“We can paint the world. Flood it in colour. But we need you, Jensen. You're the face of the revolution. The whole city saw you let that Painter boy go, and you showed them that there's hope for a different way of life. One where we can all live side by side. That's why they protested. They'll listen to you, and they'll follow you. I know they will.”
Jared steps in front of Jensen, his hand curling around Jensen's shoulder; solid and comforting. “Are you with me?”
Jensen looks at Jared's multi-coloured eyes and he sees hope for a better world, one that he can feel a part of, where he can belong. He sees a partner in crime, who he trusts with this life and his future. He looks around the room at all the vibrant colours. Despite all his training, despite all the years of being told that colour is wrong, that it's forbidden, all he sees is the future and it's in Technicolour.
Jensen closes his eyes, takes a breath and smiles. He lets himself focus and control a part of himself, that only a few days ago, would have terrified him. But right now he feels at home, feels like he can let everyone know who he really is.
When he opens his eyes, Jared's looking down at Jensen’s freshly painted blue shirt, a knowing half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Hell yes,” Jensen says, changing the colour of his tie to deep maroon. “I'm with you.”
The End