1 . Name: HoloSnipe @ 2012-07-21 09:09

A/N : Alright, so... I've never posted on a Chan before, much less a fanfiction, aaand I’m writing TF2 fanfiction for the first time in forever. Yay me :P

I was looking thru all the old fanfic I wrote on my computer and I was all like HOLY CRAP DID I ACTUALLY WIRITE THIS OMG THIS IS HORRID UGH but some of the ideas were still good. Especially this one -

I was getting really, REALLY sick of all the “Fangirl is inexplicably dropped into TF2land joins and team, much kawaii fangirling and rage from team OC/whatever teammate shenanigans” self-insert fiction, so I’d decided to write what I HONEST TO GOD think would happen if I suddenly found myself in the 2niverse.

Granted, it was still, for the most part, utter crap, but now I’ve done it’s hair and makeup and dressed it up all nice and pretty and am ready to send it out again, so here’s the first chapter so I can see what the hell it is I’m getting myself into.

- * - * -

There was only one smoking-section bench on the train, near the coffee machine, so he lit his cigarette and took a seat a few feet from the girl. He set his coffee on the floor between his feet and offhandedly puffed a ring of smoke into the air, watching the last lights of the small town flash by the rain-stained window and fade away.

She ignored him.

It was better like that though, wasn’t it? He was a man, she was a girl, they were all but alone, and it was, what? Three a.m.? Four? He started to check his wristwatch before he realized for the thousandth time it was still broken.

She didn’t even acknowledge him, though. Not a nod or a small smile or even a grimace. She just sat and stared at nothing and held her coffee cup, dangerously close to slipping from the tips of her fingers where she held it only by its rim, still full and lukewarm now.

So he puffed and she stared and the train kept going.

But it eventually stopped, as it always did, at the small station in the boondocks of the already backwater town of Teufort. He glanced under the brim of his hat as the last few of his teammates boarded the car, some giving him tired smiles, most not sparing as much as a glance for him, but instead taking a gander at the little lady with the ice-cold coffee and the faraway look in her eyes before stepping into the neighboring boxcar to join the rest of the team.

It was when she didn’t get off that he began to get antsy.

Had he missed something? This was the last stop before 2Fort, right? Yes, yes it was.

A minute passed, and then another, and another while the happy chatter and laughter of his teammates seeped though the door. His cigarette finally died and he flicked the butt out the open window without even looking before placing another between his thin lips and lighting it.

“Damp evenin’,” he grunted, “innit?”

She blinked once, twice, slowly, and bit-by-bit turned to face him with hazel eyes, bloodshot and puffy and flat.

When he saw the way she moved, he was sure he could say anything to her, anything at all, and it would be moments before she did anything but pretend to notice. Even if he made a vulgar or cutting remark, she would take it in slowly, distractedly; she would respond with muted platitudes, or none at all.

And finally, the cheap paper cup was on the lying sidewise on the flooring and the ice-cold coffee was seeping into the wooden floorboards, black and bitter smelling.

She stared. And she smiled.

There was something wrong about it. It wasn’t a fake, for-the-sake-of-being-polite smile, nor was it a friendly, oh-I’m-glad-you’ve-decided-to-speak-to-me smile. It wasn’t vicious or unfriendly, but it wasn’t remotely reassuring, either.

It was… spiteful, in a tired, offhand way, with a pinch of bitter humor.

Her voice cracked when she spoke. “It gets worse in Tennessee.” She bit her lip and looked back down to her spilled drink. “Sorry.”

He shrugged and smiled back, insincerely, eyes glued to her.

After an eternity, she sat up straight and began drumming her fingers against her leg. “Is the coffee any good?” she asked, the empty, nervous words clumsily spilling out of her mouth while her eyes found their way to his again.

For a fleeting instant, she looked terrified.

“It’s summa the most horrible crap you’ll ever have,” he replied after a moment, picking up his cup and downing half of sludgy carbonized stuff. He sat it back down on the floor by his feet and wiped a small dribble of it off his chin. “Strong, though.”

She nodded and bit her lip, looking blankly ahead once more and ending the awkward conversation before it really started.

Sniper grunted and started another cigarette, puffing on it agitatedly. He considered just asking her who the hell she was and why she was on this particular train at this time of night. Was she a runaway? A vagabond? Should he report this to the Announcer?

He flicked the still-lit half-of-a-cigarette out the window and turned to face her again, bound and determined to get some answers this time.

She was asleep.

- * - * -

HMM OKAY LET’S SEE HOW GRITTY AND DEPRESSING I CAN MAKE THIS.

Don’t worry, if I decide to keep writing it’ll eventually take on a more positive tone :)

And have quite a bit of revising so it ain’t so crappy :P

Also, sorry about the drop in writing quality at the end, I wrote the last third of it at, like, two a.m.