Written for the prompt - Derek's weapon of choice (167 words)
The grip was cold in his hand, but it soon warmed, taking on the heat of his skin, the blood that flowed underneath. The gun felt like an extension of his own flesh, sleek and deadly, as he sighted in along the short barrel. It wasn't the weapon he'd called his own for so many years – that was lost to him, somewhere in a future he hoped would never come to be. No, what he held in his hand was a product of this time, this world.
He'd traded a diamond for it in an alley the night they'd come through time, and it had served him well in the months since. He relaxed his arm, brought the weapon closer to him, stroked a finger along the black polymer frame, the black steel barrel, over the stylized M&P45 stamped into the metal and the SW molded into the polymer grip.
Sarah had a small arsenal hidden under her bed, but he wouldn't trade this piece for anything.
