fic:the best of plans/btvs, walking dead/gen
Title: the best of plans
Series: We Find Ourselves
Word Count: 1300
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Walking Dead
Prompt: #358 cartography @ tamingthemuse
Warning: none
Rating: FR13
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon and ME. The Walking Dead and all related characters are copyright of Robert Kirkman, Image Comics and AMC. No infringement intended.
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Red ink stained the edge of his palm, the dry erase marker gathering in the cracks of his hand as he used a ruler to mark off the sections of local farm land that had been recently designated a free fire zone. The overabundance of the infected still coming out of Jacksonville were starting to head in the general direction of the bridges leading to and from Blount Island which meant in the next few days he’d be sending out a few of his best to steer the infected off course with hope, skill and several frags.
Loud noises, especially those made by fragmentary hand grenades, would draw a substantial amount of them off course and allow a window for another platoon to make a supply run. Boyd reached out, snagged the polymore film with the black markings and settled it over the red covered film so he could get a better idea of where he should direct his people. The black overlay held the places they’d already hit for supplies and, unfortunately, there was a lot of black on this particular map.
A hand rose, palm cupping his chin, mindless of the red, as he scratched at the side of his face through several days’ worth of stubble. Stubble that would’ve never happened a few short months ago, but nowadays his wife had perpetual dibs on all razors his family managed to acquire, and since he wasn’t one to complain about the little things he supported her on that small luxury. His hand dropped, snagging the red marker and recapping it out of necessity since wasting anything, even a marker, was no longer an option.
He snagged the green and used it to highlight the farms left that the teams could hit. His gaze slid to Jacksonville and he frowned at it a moment before shaking his head and directing his green marker further north on the map. They weren’t hard up enough for him to risk his men on a mission that was guaranteed to run them straight into Murphy and after how that city had burned there was a likely chance all they would find would be the infected. He did circle Yulee and make a note to do more research on it as a possibility for exploration by one of the Humvees at a later date.
Blue eyes narrowed on the bridges again and he made a small notation for his Gy. Sgt. Harrison to have the best EOD specialist take a look at it them. There might come a time when Blount needed to be as completely removed from the rest of Florida as it possibly could, but he also knew if another outbreak happened like the previous and they didn’t have the proper means to evacuate he’d be signing a hell of a lot of people’s death warrants.
A knock at his door dragged Boyd’s focus from the map and he finished his notations before lifting his head and then the rest of him. His back protested the misuse of being hunched over for too long and he rolled his shoulders, felt the subtle cracks within the joints before addressing the closed door, “Enter.”
The knob turned, door opening to reveal the petite doctor running the medical unit of his compound and Boyd capped the black marker since Dr. Garcia rarely used her power around base for frivolous purposes. The same could not have been said for her predecessor, who-on more than one occasion-had barged his way into meetings he wasn’t privy to just to show the Colonel’s men he could. Dr. Garcia made her way forward, drawing his focus back to her and he watched her brown eyes search out the corners of his office and that awareness of her surroundings made him like her all the better.
“Good morning, Doctor.” He smiled with the greeting and it brought an answering one to her face as he inquired, “How can I help you?”
She made her way to his desk and, aside from a cursory sweep, ignored the maps spread across his desk before lifting her arms to show the manila folder she had clutched in her hands. “Colonel, do you have a moment?”
“I do,” he nodded, “More than one even.”
Her mouth quirked, a small snort escaping her at the terrible attempt at levity, before her gaze dipped to his desk. “Can I?” She emphasized the question with another movement of the folder.
“Please,” He reached out and flipped the cover of the polymore sheets over to protect his most recent notations before motioning her to use the desk at will. She did as requested and the folder was opened before she began to clutter his desk with papers, papers filled with numbers and notes that at first glanced looked undecipherable. “I suppose this will be when you explain why the blood tests were performed twice on the officers of my base?” He made the statement an inquiry and hastily tacked on, “Myself included.”
“I am,” she promised, looking up to meet his gaze, “There were anomalies in the samples taken from the newest arrivals, but I wanted to make sure the samples were indeed from the newest arrivals.”
His brow slopped downward with the word anomaly, but he nodded and simply stated “Understood,” allowing Dr. Garcia to continue her explanation.
“We tested the new samples and the anomaly was still present. I tested them myself,” she reached out and picked up one of the papers on his desk and he frowned at what appeared to be a chart of grey and greyer markers. Dr. Garcia continued, as if she completely understood his confusion but had still wanted to present him with the hard evidence, “This sample doesn’t show the protein marker we normally associate with the pathogen. There’s nothing in this sample that indicates that this person is even infected.”
Blue eyes raised, his brows following suit as he looked past the bit of paper in her hand and locked gazes with Dr. Garcia. “I was under the impression we’re all infected, Doctor.”
“We are,” she dropped her arm, shook her head, “Every other person on this base is infected with this pathogen. I don’t understand why this person isn’t and I can’t explain it without more tests.” A sigh escaped her and her gaze flicked back to his before she added, “I need to run more tests.”
“Run them.”
“Easier said,” her mouth quirked, the smile self-deprecating, “I’m going to need to give them reasons for the tests. I’d like those reasons to be the truth.”
It was Boyd’s turn to sigh, her smile suddenly making perfect sense. “We agreed discretion was the best choice-”
“I know!” Her smile slipped and a bit of her spine peeked through as she leveled a glare at him, “I know that! I also know that I’ll need some form of explanation for the tests for the subject’s father. She’s sixteen! And some of these tests will be incredibly invasive.”
“Dammit,” he muttered and with great feeling before taking the chair at his desk.
Dr. Garcia followed his lead, claiming the chair across from his desk as she agreed wholeheartedly with his sentiment by grousing, “Yeah.”
“Just the father and daughter?”
“Just them,” Dr. Garcia agreed.
His frowned down at the papers scattered across his desk and then looked back up at her before he questioned, “Could this led to a cure?”
A shrug lifted her thin shoulders before she offered, “It could, but I make can’t make any promises. I can say that it’d be a step in the right direction.”
The lack of placations separated her further from her predecessor and Boyd gave her one sharp dip of his chin before stating, “Do it and thank you, Doctor.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
+
The end.
Series: We Find Ourselves
Word Count: 1300
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Walking Dead
Prompt: #358 cartography @ tamingthemuse
Warning: none
Rating: FR13
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon and ME. The Walking Dead and all related characters are copyright of Robert Kirkman, Image Comics and AMC. No infringement intended.
+
Red ink stained the edge of his palm, the dry erase marker gathering in the cracks of his hand as he used a ruler to mark off the sections of local farm land that had been recently designated a free fire zone. The overabundance of the infected still coming out of Jacksonville were starting to head in the general direction of the bridges leading to and from Blount Island which meant in the next few days he’d be sending out a few of his best to steer the infected off course with hope, skill and several frags.
Loud noises, especially those made by fragmentary hand grenades, would draw a substantial amount of them off course and allow a window for another platoon to make a supply run. Boyd reached out, snagged the polymore film with the black markings and settled it over the red covered film so he could get a better idea of where he should direct his people. The black overlay held the places they’d already hit for supplies and, unfortunately, there was a lot of black on this particular map.
A hand rose, palm cupping his chin, mindless of the red, as he scratched at the side of his face through several days’ worth of stubble. Stubble that would’ve never happened a few short months ago, but nowadays his wife had perpetual dibs on all razors his family managed to acquire, and since he wasn’t one to complain about the little things he supported her on that small luxury. His hand dropped, snagging the red marker and recapping it out of necessity since wasting anything, even a marker, was no longer an option.
He snagged the green and used it to highlight the farms left that the teams could hit. His gaze slid to Jacksonville and he frowned at it a moment before shaking his head and directing his green marker further north on the map. They weren’t hard up enough for him to risk his men on a mission that was guaranteed to run them straight into Murphy and after how that city had burned there was a likely chance all they would find would be the infected. He did circle Yulee and make a note to do more research on it as a possibility for exploration by one of the Humvees at a later date.
Blue eyes narrowed on the bridges again and he made a small notation for his Gy. Sgt. Harrison to have the best EOD specialist take a look at it them. There might come a time when Blount needed to be as completely removed from the rest of Florida as it possibly could, but he also knew if another outbreak happened like the previous and they didn’t have the proper means to evacuate he’d be signing a hell of a lot of people’s death warrants.
A knock at his door dragged Boyd’s focus from the map and he finished his notations before lifting his head and then the rest of him. His back protested the misuse of being hunched over for too long and he rolled his shoulders, felt the subtle cracks within the joints before addressing the closed door, “Enter.”
The knob turned, door opening to reveal the petite doctor running the medical unit of his compound and Boyd capped the black marker since Dr. Garcia rarely used her power around base for frivolous purposes. The same could not have been said for her predecessor, who-on more than one occasion-had barged his way into meetings he wasn’t privy to just to show the Colonel’s men he could. Dr. Garcia made her way forward, drawing his focus back to her and he watched her brown eyes search out the corners of his office and that awareness of her surroundings made him like her all the better.
“Good morning, Doctor.” He smiled with the greeting and it brought an answering one to her face as he inquired, “How can I help you?”
She made her way to his desk and, aside from a cursory sweep, ignored the maps spread across his desk before lifting her arms to show the manila folder she had clutched in her hands. “Colonel, do you have a moment?”
“I do,” he nodded, “More than one even.”
Her mouth quirked, a small snort escaping her at the terrible attempt at levity, before her gaze dipped to his desk. “Can I?” She emphasized the question with another movement of the folder.
“Please,” He reached out and flipped the cover of the polymore sheets over to protect his most recent notations before motioning her to use the desk at will. She did as requested and the folder was opened before she began to clutter his desk with papers, papers filled with numbers and notes that at first glanced looked undecipherable. “I suppose this will be when you explain why the blood tests were performed twice on the officers of my base?” He made the statement an inquiry and hastily tacked on, “Myself included.”
“I am,” she promised, looking up to meet his gaze, “There were anomalies in the samples taken from the newest arrivals, but I wanted to make sure the samples were indeed from the newest arrivals.”
His brow slopped downward with the word anomaly, but he nodded and simply stated “Understood,” allowing Dr. Garcia to continue her explanation.
“We tested the new samples and the anomaly was still present. I tested them myself,” she reached out and picked up one of the papers on his desk and he frowned at what appeared to be a chart of grey and greyer markers. Dr. Garcia continued, as if she completely understood his confusion but had still wanted to present him with the hard evidence, “This sample doesn’t show the protein marker we normally associate with the pathogen. There’s nothing in this sample that indicates that this person is even infected.”
Blue eyes raised, his brows following suit as he looked past the bit of paper in her hand and locked gazes with Dr. Garcia. “I was under the impression we’re all infected, Doctor.”
“We are,” she dropped her arm, shook her head, “Every other person on this base is infected with this pathogen. I don’t understand why this person isn’t and I can’t explain it without more tests.” A sigh escaped her and her gaze flicked back to his before she added, “I need to run more tests.”
“Run them.”
“Easier said,” her mouth quirked, the smile self-deprecating, “I’m going to need to give them reasons for the tests. I’d like those reasons to be the truth.”
It was Boyd’s turn to sigh, her smile suddenly making perfect sense. “We agreed discretion was the best choice-”
“I know!” Her smile slipped and a bit of her spine peeked through as she leveled a glare at him, “I know that! I also know that I’ll need some form of explanation for the tests for the subject’s father. She’s sixteen! And some of these tests will be incredibly invasive.”
“Dammit,” he muttered and with great feeling before taking the chair at his desk.
Dr. Garcia followed his lead, claiming the chair across from his desk as she agreed wholeheartedly with his sentiment by grousing, “Yeah.”
“Just the father and daughter?”
“Just them,” Dr. Garcia agreed.
His frowned down at the papers scattered across his desk and then looked back up at her before he questioned, “Could this led to a cure?”
A shrug lifted her thin shoulders before she offered, “It could, but I make can’t make any promises. I can say that it’d be a step in the right direction.”
The lack of placations separated her further from her predecessor and Boyd gave her one sharp dip of his chin before stating, “Do it and thank you, Doctor.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
+
The end.