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Entry tags:
Greer fic
I guess I am getting Greer this evening!
Anyway, randomish Greer/Tomorrow's Future ficlet under the cut.
Trust Issues
by Estirose
c 2007
I don't know how I've survived this long, but I've survived.
If I look at my wrist, there's a faint shadow of the tattoo that was once there; I've mostly gotten rid of it, because I'm no longer a Watcher. At least of Immortals.
No, I've got something more important. Not people battling it out with swords, but kids that, if they survive, might show the Immortals a thing or two.
So I watch them. Record them. I have no clue what'll happen if I'm beheaded after my husband dies; I presume that my subjects will cherish their own archives, their own early history.
It would be a shame to die soon. But I have to face that I never stuck around with a teacher much, never really learned how to use a sword. Oh, Alberta, my first teacher, has tried to correct some of my errors, but our relationship will never be the same since she found out what I was, and the trust isn't quite there. And for student and teacher, there has to be trust.
There's very little trust out there in the world of Immortals and Watchers when I come into the equation. That's what I like about the Tomorrow People; they trust me.
And, I think, that trust is what I desperately cling to. That trust is what I need. Without it, without Michael and the Tomorrow People and a few others, I would be drifting. Lost.
If I ever lost that trust, ever lost my friends, I'd probably be beheaded within the week.
But I'm still here. Have a sword, am prepared to defend myself and those I love. I have to go on. I have records to keep, and stories to tell, a future generation I have an obligation to.
I won't forget that. I will go on. Even if not everybody trusts me, I'll survive. I have my friends, and my obligations, and life will go on.
Anyway, randomish Greer/Tomorrow's Future ficlet under the cut.
Trust Issues
by Estirose
c 2007
I don't know how I've survived this long, but I've survived.
If I look at my wrist, there's a faint shadow of the tattoo that was once there; I've mostly gotten rid of it, because I'm no longer a Watcher. At least of Immortals.
No, I've got something more important. Not people battling it out with swords, but kids that, if they survive, might show the Immortals a thing or two.
So I watch them. Record them. I have no clue what'll happen if I'm beheaded after my husband dies; I presume that my subjects will cherish their own archives, their own early history.
It would be a shame to die soon. But I have to face that I never stuck around with a teacher much, never really learned how to use a sword. Oh, Alberta, my first teacher, has tried to correct some of my errors, but our relationship will never be the same since she found out what I was, and the trust isn't quite there. And for student and teacher, there has to be trust.
There's very little trust out there in the world of Immortals and Watchers when I come into the equation. That's what I like about the Tomorrow People; they trust me.
And, I think, that trust is what I desperately cling to. That trust is what I need. Without it, without Michael and the Tomorrow People and a few others, I would be drifting. Lost.
If I ever lost that trust, ever lost my friends, I'd probably be beheaded within the week.
But I'm still here. Have a sword, am prepared to defend myself and those I love. I have to go on. I have records to keep, and stories to tell, a future generation I have an obligation to.
I won't forget that. I will go on. Even if not everybody trusts me, I'll survive. I have my friends, and my obligations, and life will go on.
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(Heck, she drowned out Mr. I-don't-wanna-be-a-TP. That's gotta be something.)
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