Fic: Funny (1/1)
Title: Funny
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Erica/Jack
Word Count: 300
Summary: It's funny, in a way. For aurilly’s prompt “Father Jack/Erica, stakeout, pretending to be married,’” at my Valentine’s Day Gift-Drabble Meme. General Spoilers for V (2009) through 1.04 - It's Only the Beginning.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: You’ve reminded me, quite vividly, why V needs to be on again RIGHT THIS MOMENT. Hopefully, this is to your liking :)
Funny
It’s funny. Not that they’re in this mess. Not that they’re putting their lives on the line for things they don’t understanding (fucking aliens; sometimes she still can’t get her head around it). It’s not even that she’s here, knowing in her heart that there’s more than a chance in hell that her son’s inside the very building she’s spent the better part of three days crouched behind, living off of lukewarm coffee and stale scones from the Starbucks down the street; that he’s in there, with a girl whose humanity is, quite literally, only skin deep. The very thought of it chills her, deeper than the bone.
It’s funny; not that she’s left her home, her life, her world behind to save the very things she’s abandoned, forsaken. The very things it kills her to know she’s failed, in spite of everything; in spite of how hard she’s tried.
What’s funny about it is how he knows she drinks her coffee black without having to ask. What’s funny is how he doesn’t match her step, but moves inside of it; how she matches his counterpoint with ease. What’s funny is that the silence between them is comfortable, soothing; what’s funny is how he looks more at peace with the world, with himself, when he’s not wearing that collar, when he’s holding a gun -- when he’s pressed against her, covering her back.
What’s funny isn’t that they believe her when she tells the security guards that their married; what’s funny is that she believes it. Wholeheartedly.
It had never felt that way with her ex. Not once.
She wonders, idly, if that means something. Catching his eye with the corner of hers before they move in for the kill -- the enemy’s or their own; she kind of hopes it does.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Erica/Jack
Word Count: 300
Summary: It's funny, in a way. For aurilly’s prompt “Father Jack/Erica, stakeout, pretending to be married,’” at my Valentine’s Day Gift-Drabble Meme. General Spoilers for V (2009) through 1.04 - It's Only the Beginning.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: You’ve reminded me, quite vividly, why V needs to be on again RIGHT THIS MOMENT. Hopefully, this is to your liking :)
Funny
It’s funny. Not that they’re in this mess. Not that they’re putting their lives on the line for things they don’t understanding (fucking aliens; sometimes she still can’t get her head around it). It’s not even that she’s here, knowing in her heart that there’s more than a chance in hell that her son’s inside the very building she’s spent the better part of three days crouched behind, living off of lukewarm coffee and stale scones from the Starbucks down the street; that he’s in there, with a girl whose humanity is, quite literally, only skin deep. The very thought of it chills her, deeper than the bone.
It’s funny; not that she’s left her home, her life, her world behind to save the very things she’s abandoned, forsaken. The very things it kills her to know she’s failed, in spite of everything; in spite of how hard she’s tried.
What’s funny about it is how he knows she drinks her coffee black without having to ask. What’s funny is how he doesn’t match her step, but moves inside of it; how she matches his counterpoint with ease. What’s funny is that the silence between them is comfortable, soothing; what’s funny is how he looks more at peace with the world, with himself, when he’s not wearing that collar, when he’s holding a gun -- when he’s pressed against her, covering her back.
What’s funny isn’t that they believe her when she tells the security guards that their married; what’s funny is that she believes it. Wholeheartedly.
It had never felt that way with her ex. Not once.
She wonders, idly, if that means something. Catching his eye with the corner of hers before they move in for the kill -- the enemy’s or their own; she kind of hopes it does.