"Ah shit," Jones hissed as she felt the sharp spray of birdshot hit her back. "Mother of-," she ducked behind a building to shield her from the continuing violence in the streets around her.

Just as her editor had predicted, Cairo had erupted into violence and she had been there to cover the whole thing. She had managed to capture photos of the protests and first erupting violence before the situation had gotten out of control and Jones had tried to make her way out of the area before the veritable powder keg exploded.

Unfortunately, her progress had been hampered by the crush of thousands of protesters and she had found herself running through the streets as she tried to escape the shots of birdshot being fired into the crowd by the authorities.

Apprehensively, she checked herself over for any serious injuries and was relieved when she found none. The leather jacket she always wore on assignments such as these had stopped the birdshot from penetrating although she knew she would have some nasty bruises in the morning.

Keeping all of her senses on high alert, she consulted a nearby street sign. She was pleasantly surprised when she realized knew the neighborhood she had found herself in and after taking a few back alleyways, always staying on high alert, she made it back to her hotel without incident.

Upon entering her room, Jones went through her usual ritual of checking every nook and cranny of her hotel room as well as the surrounding area before deeming it safe and collapsing on her bed. Immediately she groaned and rolled over onto her front when she felt how sore her back really was and decided a hot shower was in order before she contacted her editor.

As she undressed she flipped on the television to the English news channel and watched intently as the area she had been less than an hour before turned into a veritable war zone. Deciding to push it out of her mind, she stepped into the steaming hot shower and tried to wash the day's events from her skin.

When she emerged from the steamy bathroom an hour later it was with a sense of apprehension. She wasn't looking forward to all of the work she had waiting for her but knew there was no escaping it.

After another glance at the continuing violence on her TV screen she decided it would probably be best if she were to contact Hallie and the Weasleys first to let them know she was okay.

Molly had tried to insist that she bring an owl but after pointing out that it would only draw unwanted attention to her when she was trying to blend into the background of Cairo, she had relented and agreed that Jones should contact them using the fellytone Harry had insisted upon getting for his home.

Pulling her cell phone from her satchel, she quickly dialed the Potter's home number and after assuring Ginny that she was in fact completely safe, asked her to owl Hallie before the girl heard about the riots from one of the three newspapers the girl subscribed to. She had consciously decided to leave out the part about getting sprayed with birdshot since she didn't want anyone to worry and wasn't really keen on facing Fred's 'I told you so' face when she got home.

After promising to stay safe and reassuring Ginny that she didn't need one of them to come down and get her, Jones ended the call and decided to stall a bit longer by gathering her things.

When on assignment she was never one to stay in one place for very long, choosing instead to move about frequently since it wasn't unheard of for journalists to find themselves in dangerous situations should they allow themselves to become complacent. Some of her colleagues called her paranoid but Jones disagreed wholeheartedly. It was something she had been raised with, constant vigilance had been a sort of motto in her family and it had saved her skin more times than she could count.

Once her small travel bag was repacked, Jones picked up her jacket and examined it for damage and was once again amazed to find none. The jacket had been a gift from her aunt when she had turned eighteen, it was the same leather jacket she wore whenever she rode her motorcycle and she had decided it was indestructible. Nothing ever seemed to be able to destroy it. It had saved her skin, literally many times. Not just from birdshot but from sharp scrapes, road rash, and a variety of other injuries and yet after each encounter it still looked brand new.

Again, Jones checked the room and surrounding area before she decided it was safe enough for her to get some work done and catch a few z's before she changed hotels first thing in the morning.

Morning brought an uneasy sense of calm to Cairo and Jones knew in her bones it was time to move. It was a feeling she had learned to trust and she didn't hesitate before checking out of her hotel and moving across town to a new location.

As she slunk out a back door into the hazy morning, staying in the shadows and trying not to draw attention to herself, she noticed a small group of people entering through the front door of the hotel and couldn't suppress the shiver that ran up and down her spine. Instinctively she knew that there was something afoot and decided not only to change her route but also her destination.

The rest of Jones' stay in Cairo was relatively quiet save for her constant changing of locations, occasionally deciding not to stay in one place for more than an hour before moving on. She had gotten all the information that she could and her editor wanted her story to run in the next issue meaning her job was done. He would be sending another writer to embed himself in the area over the coming weeks and Jones was only too happy to oblige.

Ever since leaving her hotel after the riots, Jones hadn't been able to shake the sense of danger that had clung to her like a second skin. Something about that small group of people she had seen had set off her internal danger sensor and she had been even more vigilant than ever. It would be a relief to get back to London where she could focus on spending time with Zara and just let herself relax for a few moments time.