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Title: Life Is Uncertain
Author: redbrunja
Wordcount: ~300
Rating: PG
Pairing: Tim/Rachel
Spoilers: N/A.
Author's Note: written for the 5 Acts meme.
Summery: There is a corner of Tim's mind already phrasing how to report that shooting the witness they were tasked to protect was justified; if Rachel pulls, he's got her back.
Tim notices things. He's an observant man by nature and training; it's not a surprise that he ends up paying attention to literally every thing he can.
As he and Rachel transport the whiny pimp the OUSA decided was worthy of WitSec protection across the Missouri state lines, through Texas and (after approximately sixteen epochs) to their destination in Albuquerque, Tim notices the way Rachel's expression gets grimmer and grimmer, the casual way her hand lays across her sidearm, fingers relaxed (there is a corner of Tim's mind already phrasing how to report that shooting the witness they were tasked to protect was justified; if Rachel pulls, he's got her back), the way she keeps reapplying her chapstick (ChapStick brand, the extra-moisturizing kind with the blue label) to get herself to release her weapon.
The ink isn't even dry on the transfer papers when Rachel and Tim are back in his SUV, headlights pointing back East, as if afraid the annoying witness who is no longer their responsibility could somehow slip out from under WitSec and return to the backseat, just to test their patience further.
"You hungry?" Tim asks.
"Once I get a couple state lines between me and that scumbag, yes," Rachel says.
"Yes ma'am," Tim replies and lets his foot rest heavy on the gas pedal.
The A.C. dies just across the Oklahoma border ("You're supposed to make me look cool," Tim mutters to his dashboard) and they wind up eating ice cream at three a.m. in a roadside dinner with flickering florescent lights.
Dinner of champions.
Rachel gets a scoop of each strawberry and chocolate (no fudge, extra whip cream) and he goes straight for Rocky Road.
Tim is tired, his eyelids feeling like sandpaper, and Rachel is distracting. She's staring out the window, watching the intermittent trucks whoosh by and she eats, as she twists her spoon into her ice cream and then drags it, slowly, against her tongue.
She flicks her eyes towards him, catches him staring, and they just look at each other for one impossibly long moment before, as if by longstanding plan, Rachel looks away and reaches for her coffee cup and he drops his gaze to his now-half-melted ice cream and applies himself.
Author: redbrunja
Wordcount: ~300
Rating: PG
Pairing: Tim/Rachel
Spoilers: N/A.
Author's Note: written for the 5 Acts meme.
Summery: There is a corner of Tim's mind already phrasing how to report that shooting the witness they were tasked to protect was justified; if Rachel pulls, he's got her back.
Tim notices things. He's an observant man by nature and training; it's not a surprise that he ends up paying attention to literally every thing he can.
As he and Rachel transport the whiny pimp the OUSA decided was worthy of WitSec protection across the Missouri state lines, through Texas and (after approximately sixteen epochs) to their destination in Albuquerque, Tim notices the way Rachel's expression gets grimmer and grimmer, the casual way her hand lays across her sidearm, fingers relaxed (there is a corner of Tim's mind already phrasing how to report that shooting the witness they were tasked to protect was justified; if Rachel pulls, he's got her back), the way she keeps reapplying her chapstick (ChapStick brand, the extra-moisturizing kind with the blue label) to get herself to release her weapon.
The ink isn't even dry on the transfer papers when Rachel and Tim are back in his SUV, headlights pointing back East, as if afraid the annoying witness who is no longer their responsibility could somehow slip out from under WitSec and return to the backseat, just to test their patience further.
"You hungry?" Tim asks.
"Once I get a couple state lines between me and that scumbag, yes," Rachel says.
"Yes ma'am," Tim replies and lets his foot rest heavy on the gas pedal.
The A.C. dies just across the Oklahoma border ("You're supposed to make me look cool," Tim mutters to his dashboard) and they wind up eating ice cream at three a.m. in a roadside dinner with flickering florescent lights.
Dinner of champions.
Rachel gets a scoop of each strawberry and chocolate (no fudge, extra whip cream) and he goes straight for Rocky Road.
Tim is tired, his eyelids feeling like sandpaper, and Rachel is distracting. She's staring out the window, watching the intermittent trucks whoosh by and she eats, as she twists her spoon into her ice cream and then drags it, slowly, against her tongue.
She flicks her eyes towards him, catches him staring, and they just look at each other for one impossibly long moment before, as if by longstanding plan, Rachel looks away and reaches for her coffee cup and he drops his gaze to his now-half-melted ice cream and applies himself.
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(Also, that is a lovely icon.)
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If you write more along these lines, I will definitely read it.
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