Art post: SPNJ2BB - Your Signal in the Distance
Fic title: Your Signal in the Distance
Author: dugindeep
Artist: cassiopeia7
Media: Ink, Copic & Prismacolor marker, pastel pencil, digital gradient backgrounds.
Genre: J2 AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: R (art only)
Warnings: Sexual situations, implied violence, open wounds, blood. (art only)
Summary: Life as a psychometric is more than just being a part of the Empaths. Jensen’s specialty is reliving the deaths of murder victims, which does him no favors except in his job as a Special Investigator with the Homicide Division. That’s why Jensen doesn’t do relationships of any kind. Doesn’t even try, just shuts himself off from natural emotions. He experiences enough of them at his crime scenes.
Hooking up with a stranger in a club helps to relieve the tension he carries from one murder to the next, but it complicates everything when the one-night stand, Jared, is tied to his next case. Being forced to deal with Jared cracks the facade of the well-built defenses Jensen has created to protect him from the side effects of his abilities. The way Jared slips inside overwhelms Jensen in ways he’d hadn’t known were possible, so his only option is to push Jared as far away as possible. That is, until Jensen begins to really feel.
Artist Note: Author-artist collaborations are certainly the luck of the draw. Sometimes Atropos throws you right under that speeding bus and you swear you'll never, ever do another Bang again; sometimes Fortuna bestows her blessings upon you and you land a fantastic partner. Guess how this year's J2BB collaboration went with me. ;)
I love police procedurals. I'm also fond of the "empath" trope. So when I read the summary -- Jensen as a homicide detective with empathetic tendencies -- I was all over it. Then I found out that my author was dugindeep, who'd written one of my all-time J2 favorites, "This Long Silence." There was much celebration in the land. I've said it before, I'll say it again -- I won the bigbang lottery on this one.
So, to dugindeep, one metric bazillion hugs for all those gorgeous pics of J2-in-suits you kept sneaking into emails, your tolerance of artistic crazy, your encouragement, your suggestions, your enthusiasm, and for being one of the best darn authors I've had the privilege to work with. I fell in love with your story and characters, got to draw quite a few firsts -- Rick Worthy, onion rings, Tootsie Rolls, and a gory stab wound -- had so, SO much fun working with you, and made a new friend. Bang collaborations don't get much better than this.
Many thanks, hugs, smishes, curtseys, and virtual roses for my superbly talented superbetas maichan and quickreaver, who cracked that whip, wielded that red pen, and offered valuable pointers and concrit. (But alas, I yam what I yam, which is definitely not Michelangelo, and any foul-ups remaining are purely my own fault.) Big smishes to my brilliant medical maven dear_tiger for her suggestions re scapulae, stab wounds, and bloodstains. And big ole hugs to the fantabulous vicious_sock, who -- when not being the devil on my shoulder and tempting me into drawing even more art -- always takes the time to drop an encouraging word or twelve my way.
Finally, huge thanks to wendy and thehighwaywoman for providing us a playground. And such a playground it is! "See you next season," as Alpha Vamp might say, but unlike Alpha Vamp, I really will be back next year. ;)
WARNING! Art contains MAJOR spoilers for the fic.
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Jensen senses Jared’s pulse deep in his bones, hunger replacing a simple craving. It’s instantaneous to acknowledge and even quicker to dismiss by looking away. He downs the rest of his drink, puts the empty on the bar, and lifts his head confidently. “Yes.”
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Twenty minutes later, Jensen is showing Jared into his living room, but they don’t stay there long. Better intentions await them in the bedroom, and once inside, Jensen rips his shirt off and smiles on the inside when Jared does, too.
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A heavy hand lands on Jensen’s shoulder and he blinks. The room flashes back to life, daylight, a crime scene, his partner’s touch easing him out of the images.
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Misha reads the discomfort. “Sorry, where are my manners? This is my partner, Special Investigator Jensen Ackles.”
The corner of Jared’s mouth quirks and he puts his hand out. “Right, Jensen, nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure,” Jensen mutters without taking the offered handshake. He has no interest to extend their knowledge of one another any further than need be.
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“This is a crime scene,” Jensen says firmly, trying to push for Jared to leave.
Jared pulls his jacket back to show off the badge on his belt. “Good thing I’m a cop then.”
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“Hey, guys,” Jared announces as he enters the office, “How is the case going?”
Jensen stares at his screen, swearing at the blinking cursor that means he’s no longer writing and is instead accepting Jared’s presence. “Our case is going just fine.”
“Glad to hear that. Listen, I’ve got something that could help.”
“We don’t need your help,” Jensen says, typing again just to appear busy and get Jared to leave them alone.
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“I mean it, Ackles.” Worthy pins Jensen in place with a fierce look, even when the elevator finally dings open, keeping them in the elevator lobby while others pass around them. “Don’t lose my killer.”
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“So how does your ability help with the cases then?”
Jensen still isn’t sure how to describe it, even after decades of living with it. “I connect with the victims,” is the best he comes up with now.
“Like for when they die?”
Shrugging again, Jensen shifts away from Jared. “Someone has to.”
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“You think your daddy will mind if we give you a piece of candy for being such an awesome junior police officer?”
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Against his better judgment, Jensen invites Jared into the kitchen, makes him sit in a dining chair, and gets out antiseptic spray and cotton wipes to clean the wounds. Jared is practically admiring Jensen as he patiently lets Jensen clean his wounds. There’s a quick flash of Jared’s awe, but then Jensen focuses more strictly on cleaning the scratches and he cuts Jared off with another cognitive block.
“Cats are tough, huh?” Jared chuckles softly.
____
“Has this happened before?” Jared asks, angry yet agitated. “Is this what you guys do every time?”
“No, I’ve never seen him do this,” Misha responds just as frantically. He sets both palms to Jensen’s body, seeking out a hand and his neck to get down to skin immediately. “The jogger was strangled,” Misha complains, “And you let him do this?”
“I didn’t let him do anything!”
Misha’s hands move to Jensen’s chest and now Jensen can feel the steady up and down of Misha’s own breathing replicated within his ribcage. “He feels everything they feel! If the vic's not breathing while it happens, then neither is he.”
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Jared pats Jensen’s knee and there’s an immediate rush of warmth up Jensen’s thigh. It settles heavily in his gut then turns ice cold when Jared pulls his hand away with a frown, like he now realizes what one touch could mean.
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“I don’t really know-” Jensen stops there, unsure of what he really doesn’t know, or what he wants to say. He doesn’t understand why this room is such a hazard compared to the rest of the apartment, why a suspect who was so meticulous in stalking and attacking their victim with precise knife techniques would keep such a messy room, why he’s here to read anything, why he can’t even pick a single feeling up in this room if … “If this is really our guy,” he says slowly.
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Jared doesn’t move, seems to struggle with any effort to rise, and when Jesse lifts his hand, Jared falls back to the ground with a painful whimper.
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Jensen blinks hard and tries to see through the tension wrapping around his muscles and blurring his vision. He can still sense Jared’s dread at being unable to move, for following Jensen here out of pure curiosity, and Jensen would curse Jared out for it as well. He’s now too focused, though, on pushing back on the killer’s telepathy-his binding-as white-hot power weakens Jensen’s joints.
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“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but why did you agree to come here?”
Jensen takes the time to drink as he considers how to respond. The best answer seems to be the most straightforward one. “Because you asked.”
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“That’s good,” Jared murmurs. “Because I kinda like your daddy, and it would suck if we didn’t have some kind of deal here, ya know?”
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“Then I guess we’ve got something to celebrate,” Jared murmurs.
“And what’s that?”
“You’ve made yourself a real connection.”
Jensen feels a muscle twitch in his cheek, making his smile shaky. But he knows Jared’s right.
Not just correct, but right.
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[Other bits and pieces.]
Even though the city in the fic remains unnamed, I based the detective badges on Chicago Police Department badges, city seal and all. My fellow Chicagoans might notice another Chicago symbol tucked away in there, and sharp-eyed fangirls might notice the badge numbers. :)
The initial character sketch of Detective Alpha Vamp Rick Worthy. I'm thrilled that I got the chance to draw the charismatic Rick, but sadly, have not done him justice. Jeez-Louise, I cannot draw hairless craniums to save my life. Bald heads, how do they work? They're not even ROUND, y'all! /o\
I hope to get other chances to draw Rick, as he was kinda fun to do, even if those super-intense eyes of his were . . . difficult. :)
The initial character sketch of Jesse Wilkins (the killer.) As described in the story, he reminded me overwhlemingly of the character Cyril O'Reilly from Oz, and using O'Reilly as my model, this is what we got. Although Jesse's sketch was one of the first things put to paper, I ended up going with a more dramatic angle for the climactic scene, and so, his face was never shown. But I kinda liked his face, so:
The lone icon (I am an idiot sadly unsuccessful when it comes to icon-making):
Dividers:
'Tis the Morse-code version of "Your Signal in the Distance." dugindeep suggested a signal-related divider, and Morse was the first place my brain went. Hey, it's a signal, right? >.> That's my story and I'm sticking to it.