Someday We Won't Remember This, Erica Evans, PG
Title: Someday We Won't Remember This
Fandom: V (2009)
Character:
Rating: PG
Warnings: discusses a whole lot of character death
Spoilers: Through the series finale 2x10
Disclaimer: I disclaim! These belong to ABC and anyone else who would claim. Transformative work, no profit being made. The quote is from the Mountain Goats' song 'Genesis 30:3'
Prompt: Erica Evans, she stands alone at the end of the world
Dedication: For lule-bell, who likes the same kickass women that I do. This came out a little dark and twisty, but that mostly fits our beloved Erica, so I hope you enjoy. Have lovely holidays out there in Japan <3
For several days the visitors were here
We saw them turned down and we watched them disappear
Talked about the days they'd said were sure to come
Had a hard time believing
When she sees the tiny wardrobe stripped bare, the guns gone and the bag beneath the bed now conspicuous by its absence, Erica can finally breathe out all the way. Her ribs seem to crack with this new relaxation, this sucker punch of disappointment that she’s been waiting for since the moment she first agreed to work with Hobbes.
Let him run, she thinks. It’s not as if there’s going to be much left to run to.
*
It breaks her heart to leave Jack, still dazed and not himself. He’s compromised, a direct conduit to Anna now, and so Erica has to leave him there in the lair that Hobbes has abandoned; leave him with nothing more than a vague promise that she’ll call.
*
She only goes home to pack a bag and grab those essentials for what may be a long time on the run. There’s a real risk of exposure now--Anna has found too many ways to infiltrate, and Erica needs time to regroup.
Erica sees the jacket first, draped across the steps of the porch. Even in the fading light of approaching sunset the navy blue is immediately recognizable. That gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that Erica has blamed on a hundred different worries intensifies now; there’s no way Ty discards his precious uniform like that.
It takes three more steps to smell the metallic scent of spilled blood, clashing horribly with the overgrown geraniums that crowd the porch.
*
If Erica packs anything, she can’t remember what--there’s a bag thrown in the trunk and two extra guns in her jacket.
Digging took some time, and it was longer still to be able to bear lowering him into the dirt. Twenty years of driving let her cruise the empty streets on a kind of auto-pilot, keeping her foot heavy on the gas until she’s clear of New York City and the pain she’s isn’t sure she’ll ever outrun.
*
It’s Joe’s house that offers her refuge, at least for what remains of the night. If Anna would make a move this bold, and there’s been no attempt at contact from Lisa, then Erica knows her days are numbered. Maybe the trackers are being sent out right now--maybe they’ll kill her in her sleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.
She checks every door and window out of smart habits and general curiosity. She hasn’t seen much of this place at all, this post-Erica part of Joe’s life. Hemorrhaging people these past few years has only intensified since the visitors came, and Erica can’t start thinking about cradling Joe as he lay in the street, or she’ll lose it altogether. This numbness is her friend, and her last best hope. She has to keep it in place for as long as her strength holds out.
Erica lays out the two spare guns and the ammo clips on the battered coffee table that Joe inherited from his parents. A copy of Sports Illustrated sits there with the remote like he might be back at any minute--and that’s the first blow to the fragile dam. She lies back on the sofa, propping herself up on overstuffed cushions in the rapidly darkening room. There are no streetlights here to spill in through the window.
With her service revolver gripped tightly in her right hand, Erica finally closes her eyes. The image of Tyler, bloodied and broken comes rushing back, obliterating the emotional dam as it does. Erica feels herself begin to shake before the tears come, and she gasps desperately in a fight to regain some control.
Grief, in the end, is too strong for her. Erica sobs into the cushion as the night keeps marching on. If the visitors take her tonight, so be it.
She won’t go down without a fight.
Fandom: V (2009)
Character:
Rating: PG
Warnings: discusses a whole lot of character death
Spoilers: Through the series finale 2x10
Disclaimer: I disclaim! These belong to ABC and anyone else who would claim. Transformative work, no profit being made. The quote is from the Mountain Goats' song 'Genesis 30:3'
Prompt: Erica Evans, she stands alone at the end of the world
Dedication: For lule-bell, who likes the same kickass women that I do. This came out a little dark and twisty, but that mostly fits our beloved Erica, so I hope you enjoy. Have lovely holidays out there in Japan <3
For several days the visitors were here
We saw them turned down and we watched them disappear
Talked about the days they'd said were sure to come
Had a hard time believing
When she sees the tiny wardrobe stripped bare, the guns gone and the bag beneath the bed now conspicuous by its absence, Erica can finally breathe out all the way. Her ribs seem to crack with this new relaxation, this sucker punch of disappointment that she’s been waiting for since the moment she first agreed to work with Hobbes.
Let him run, she thinks. It’s not as if there’s going to be much left to run to.
*
It breaks her heart to leave Jack, still dazed and not himself. He’s compromised, a direct conduit to Anna now, and so Erica has to leave him there in the lair that Hobbes has abandoned; leave him with nothing more than a vague promise that she’ll call.
*
She only goes home to pack a bag and grab those essentials for what may be a long time on the run. There’s a real risk of exposure now--Anna has found too many ways to infiltrate, and Erica needs time to regroup.
Erica sees the jacket first, draped across the steps of the porch. Even in the fading light of approaching sunset the navy blue is immediately recognizable. That gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that Erica has blamed on a hundred different worries intensifies now; there’s no way Ty discards his precious uniform like that.
It takes three more steps to smell the metallic scent of spilled blood, clashing horribly with the overgrown geraniums that crowd the porch.
*
If Erica packs anything, she can’t remember what--there’s a bag thrown in the trunk and two extra guns in her jacket.
Digging took some time, and it was longer still to be able to bear lowering him into the dirt. Twenty years of driving let her cruise the empty streets on a kind of auto-pilot, keeping her foot heavy on the gas until she’s clear of New York City and the pain she’s isn’t sure she’ll ever outrun.
*
It’s Joe’s house that offers her refuge, at least for what remains of the night. If Anna would make a move this bold, and there’s been no attempt at contact from Lisa, then Erica knows her days are numbered. Maybe the trackers are being sent out right now--maybe they’ll kill her in her sleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.
She checks every door and window out of smart habits and general curiosity. She hasn’t seen much of this place at all, this post-Erica part of Joe’s life. Hemorrhaging people these past few years has only intensified since the visitors came, and Erica can’t start thinking about cradling Joe as he lay in the street, or she’ll lose it altogether. This numbness is her friend, and her last best hope. She has to keep it in place for as long as her strength holds out.
Erica lays out the two spare guns and the ammo clips on the battered coffee table that Joe inherited from his parents. A copy of Sports Illustrated sits there with the remote like he might be back at any minute--and that’s the first blow to the fragile dam. She lies back on the sofa, propping herself up on overstuffed cushions in the rapidly darkening room. There are no streetlights here to spill in through the window.
With her service revolver gripped tightly in her right hand, Erica finally closes her eyes. The image of Tyler, bloodied and broken comes rushing back, obliterating the emotional dam as it does. Erica feels herself begin to shake before the tears come, and she gasps desperately in a fight to regain some control.
Grief, in the end, is too strong for her. Erica sobs into the cushion as the night keeps marching on. If the visitors take her tonight, so be it.
She won’t go down without a fight.