Fic Title: The Survivalist
Link: Posted here.
Genre: Slight angst, Off Canon
Why This Must Be Read: This is the first fic I read for this pairing and it's been one of my favorites ever since. Brilliant character piece about Selina and the relationship dynamics between her and Jim. The story ends on a bittersweet note that stays with you once it's over.
Excerpt: Jim liked to think The Outbreak made her like this, cold and pragmatic to a fault. Selena allowed him to keep his illusions. She'd stopped thinking of Jim as useless and soft—it was hard to keep that line of thinking after everything—but sometimes he needed to be coddled. Jim needed to be right about her, needed the world to make sense on his own terms. They all coped in their own way.
They didn't talk much about Before, but Selena knew he imagined her then like every other London twenty-something: working in an office or shop, making a shitty wage. Going to the pub with her girlfriends after work and out to the clubs on the weekends, sipping brightly coloured drinks while crap house music blared in the background. Once in a while she'd take someone home, foolishly hoping he'd be the one she'd marry and buy a country cottage with.
Selena had spent the better part of her early twenties like that, but that time of her life was negligible. It hadn't defined her the way it had her peers.
Fandom Category: 28 Days Later
Fic Title: Aftermath
Link: Posted here.
Rating/Warning(s): R for sex, violent imagery, language, general spoilers for the movie
Genre: Angst, Off Canon
Why This Must Be Read: Gorgeous fic told from both characters perspective. The use of second person makes it feel intimate, almost like you eavesdropping on someone's private thoughts. There's romance here, but it's tragic and a bit tortured, which if you're not too choked up by the end, makes it a really satisfying read.
Excerpt: There’s an old saying, something like when someone saves your life, it belongs to them (You’re not sure who or what says this, Indians or The Bible, a Chinese proverb tattooed on some emo poser’s arm) and that’s true more or less. She saves your life and it becomes this weight you carry, precious, valuable, a responsibility. You have to take responsibility for yourself now that she’s gone and made you someone worth saving.
There’s a scar on your stomach, as long as your middle finger, ropey and pink. Battle wound. She doesn’t talk about it unless you ask, it upsets her. You take pleasure in this, though you’re slightly ashamed of that. A better person wouldn’t. But it feels good to see tangible proof that she cares. You never know what she’s feeling most days, but when her voice breaks or she stops talking completely, that’s when you almost believe she’ll stay. That she won’t figure out what a tosser she’s saddled herself with, that it won’t always be like this and there are other men, better men that she hasn’t met yet. Ones more suited to a maybe-someday-chemist than a broke bike messenger who’d be living with his parents if they hadn’t topped themselves two months ago.
But that’s your future. It hasn’t happened yet
ETA: Fixed the second link.