Jean didn't count the number of days since the worlds had ended. No point; counting would imply that she believed she could stop counting because one day they would be saved. That hope didn't exist anymore. Run, hide, shoot the skin-jobs, drink just enough to fall asleep; then they started over again.
Perched in a tree, she was using binoculars to scan the horizon. Anders had sent her to scout out a new area. They'd already stumbled across some survivalists who agreed to help in the resistance in exchange for the anti-radiation meds. They'd also brought in a preacher and some lost campers who were less skilled but everyone was trying to help. Right now she was looking for more humans and keeping an eye out for any skin-jobs. So far they had identified two blonde females and a short male with dark hair. Jean felt a grim satisfaction each time she took one out with a head shot.
The trees had shed their leaves early, probably due to the radiation; her only protections from being seen were the neutral clothing she wore and carefully timed movement, using the larger tree limbs to shield her body from view. One of the C-Bucs had asked her how she learned to move so quietly and shoot so well; she'd made up some excuse about learning from her father. The truth was more complex; she’d been glad to shed that part of her past.
She'd been there long enough. No one else there. Breathing out slowly, she extended her left foot downwards, reaching for a lower branch.
"Hello."
Frak. She unlatched the safety on her gun, turned and pointed in the direction of the voice. Male, blond, forties; wearing black pants and a baggy printed shirt over a tee. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you," she said.
"Because I didn't shoot you." If he had a weapon (and she was going to assume he did), it must be tucked behind that shirt. He tilted his head and smiled. "I could have. I could have shot you before you even heard me coming."
::laughs:: Well, I am writing a Sam and Jean resistance fic, although at this point it doesn't involve any Twos. And it's Sam's POV rather than Jean's.
I owe you a ficlet! Actually, I now owe you two, since I still haven't finished the one I owe you from guessing the remix fic correctly... (It's started. I'm not satisfied with it yet, though, and Sam/Jean is taking priority. Mostly because I really, really like Sam/Jean.)
Throw a prompt at me, though! It might help me get unstuck on some of the other stuff I'm writing!
Perched in a tree, she was using binoculars to scan the horizon. Anders had sent her to scout out a new area. They'd already stumbled across some survivalists who agreed to help in the resistance in exchange for the anti-radiation meds. They'd also brought in a preacher and some lost campers who were less skilled but everyone was trying to help. Right now she was looking for more humans and keeping an eye out for any skin-jobs. So far they had identified two blonde females and a short male with dark hair. Jean felt a grim satisfaction each time she took one out with a head shot.
The trees had shed their leaves early, probably due to the radiation; her only protections from being seen were the neutral clothing she wore and carefully timed movement, using the larger tree limbs to shield her body from view. One of the C-Bucs had asked her how she learned to move so quietly and shoot so well; she'd made up some excuse about learning from her father. The truth was more complex; she’d been glad to shed that part of her past.
She'd been there long enough. No one else there. Breathing out slowly, she extended her left foot downwards, reaching for a lower branch.
"Hello."
Frak. She unlatched the safety on her gun, turned and pointed in the direction of the voice. Male, blond, forties; wearing black pants and a baggy printed shirt over a tee. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you," she said.
"Because I didn't shoot you." If he had a weapon (and she was going to assume he did), it must be tucked behind that shirt. He tilted his head and smiled. "I could have. I could have shot you before you even heard me coming."
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I owe you a ficlet! Actually, I now owe you two, since I still haven't finished the one I owe you from guessing the remix fic correctly... (It's started. I'm not satisfied with it yet, though, and Sam/Jean is taking priority. Mostly because I really, really like Sam/Jean.)
Throw a prompt at me, though! It might help me get unstuck on some of the other stuff I'm writing!
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