From azuremonkey at livejournal.com Mon Jan 2 13:44:04 2006 From: azuremonkey at livejournal.com (azuremonkey@livejournal.com) Date: Mon, 02 Jan 2006 13:44:04 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Offspring _PG_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Offspring Author: azuremonkey Feedback: azuremonkey at livejournal.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/ Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG Genre: gen Characters: Zoe, Wash Pairings: Zoe/Wash Summary: Wash and Zoe fight about kids, and it makes Zoe think about her own childhood. This story is available on the web: [39k] http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/3580.html From azuremonkey at livejournal.com Mon Jan 2 13:46:04 2006 From: azuremonkey at livejournal.com (azuremonkey@livejournal.com) Date: Mon, 02 Jan 2006 13:46:04 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] The Situation _PG_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: The Situation Author: azuremonkey Feedback: azuremonkey at livejournal.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/ Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG Genre: gen Characters: Malcolm, Wash Summary: Mal and Wash have a few words. This story is available on the web: [24k] http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/4303.html From azuremonkey at livejournal.com Mon Jan 2 13:48:00 2006 From: azuremonkey at livejournal.com (azuremonkey@livejournal.com) Date: Mon, 02 Jan 2006 13:48:00 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Stealing Her Soul _PG_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Stealing Her Soul Author: azuremonkey Feedback: azuremonkey at livejournal.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/ Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG Genre: gen Characters: River - with Simon Summary: River wonders about her soul. and if she still has one. This story is available on the web: [26k] http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/4356.html From azuremonkey at livejournal.com Mon Jan 2 13:51:24 2006 From: azuremonkey at livejournal.com (azuremonkey@livejournal.com) Date: Mon, 02 Jan 2006 13:51:24 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Picnic _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Picnic Author: azuremonkey Feedback: azuremonkey at livejournal.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/ Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Malcolm - all crew Summary: Jayne's gettin' some and Mal's having none of it. Notes: Spoilers for Serenity (the movie) This story is available on the web: [43k] http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/7885.html From azuremonkey at livejournal.com Mon Jan 2 13:53:45 2006 From: azuremonkey at livejournal.com (azuremonkey@livejournal.com) Date: Mon, 02 Jan 2006 13:53:45 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Bood on HIs Hands _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Bood on HIs Hands Author: azuremonkey Feedback: azuremonkey at livejournal.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/ Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Wash - Zoe, all crew Summary: What if Zoe died during the battle? Would the crew have been able to go on? Notes: Character death! Major spoilers for Serenity (the movie) This story is available on the web: [30k] http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/7394.html From azuremonkey at livejournal.com Mon Jan 2 13:55:46 2006 From: azuremonkey at livejournal.com (azuremonkey@livejournal.com) Date: Mon, 02 Jan 2006 13:55:46 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Visions _PG_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Visions Author: azuremonkey Feedback: azuremonkey at livejournal.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/ Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG Genre: gen Characters: Wash - Book Summary: Wash and Book have a conversation in a very. unusual place. Notes: Major spoilers for Serenity (the movie) This story is available on the web: [21k] http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/8715.html From azuremonkey at livejournal.com Mon Jan 2 13:58:56 2006 From: azuremonkey at livejournal.com (azuremonkey@livejournal.com) Date: Mon, 02 Jan 2006 13:58:56 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Necessity Dictates _PG_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Necessity Dictates Author: azuremonkey Feedback: azuremonkey at livejournal.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/ Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG Genre: gen Characters: Jayne - Wash, Kaylee, Mal Summary: This is what happens after Jayne wakes up immediately following "The Train Job". This story is available on the web: [24k] http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/9046.html From azuremonkey at livejournal.com Mon Jan 2 14:01:34 2006 From: azuremonkey at livejournal.com (azuremonkey@livejournal.com) Date: Mon, 02 Jan 2006 14:01:34 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Tools _PG_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Tools Author: azuremonkey Feedback: azuremonkey at livejournal.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/ Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG Genre: gen Characters: Book - all crew Summary: Book has a crisis of faith over taking up arms again. This story is available on the web: [55k] http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/12115.html From blue_buick_r at hotmail.com Mon Jan 2 21:09:33 2006 From: blue_buick_r at hotmail.com (blue_buick_r@hotmail.com) Date: Mon, 02 Jan 2006 21:09:33 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Like Woman He is Mystery _R_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Like Woman He is Mystery Author: Blue Buick R Feedback: blue_buick_r at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: R Genre: gen Characters: Zoe, Kaylee, Inara, Jayne, River Summary: Four women, four moments, one man. Notes: This is only my second Firefly fic so don't judge me too harshly, I'm not sure how well I got all the character nuances. Feedback is more than welcome. This story is available at the archive: [21k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/likewoman.shtml From blue_buick_r at hotmail.com Mon Jan 2 21:09:33 2006 From: blue_buick_r at hotmail.com (blue_buick_r@hotmail.com) Date: Mon, 02 Jan 2006 21:09:33 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Like Woman He is Mystery _R_ (1/1) Message-ID: Like Woman He is Mystery by Blue Buick R blue_buick_r at hotmail.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Despite the futility of it Inara let out a cry of both fright and anger as her silk stockings were roughly yanked down her legs. She received a stunning blow to the temple for her trouble. "Bizui you jian huo," the man hissed, rucking her dress up around her hips with calloused fingers which dragged and caught on the fine silk. "You'll get over it quick. `s not like you're a proper woman or nothin'." Under any other circumstances Inara would have rolled her eyes at that. Only a man, especially one who was about to do what this one was about to, would have the gall to spout out such complete and utter le-se. Considering her position at the moment, however, the very falsity of the statement did very little to comfort her. Quite the opposite actually. As the man fumbled with his belt buckle, she prepared herself by letting her mind wander. It was a useful trick, one the guild instilled in all its students; for despite the rarity of such occurrences it was known to happen...especially to those who ventured too far from the core looking for business. She let her mind drift to Mal and how, if she survived this, she was going to kill him. `Perfectly safe', `no weapons allowed on the premises', `what could happen?'. That was easy for him to say, he didn't have a man without doubt the size of Jayne Cobb on top of him. And while she was trained in self defense, once the man had surprised her and got her down there was very little she could do. Speaking of the mercenary, Inara was more than a little surprised when her musings, and the man's attempts to unbutton his fly, were interrupted by the door crashing open and slamming soundly against the wall. Her heart soared as she caught sight of Jayne storming into the room, neither pausing to take in his surroundings or bothering to say a word, as he made a beeline for them. He yanked the large man off her one handed, relieving some of the pressure from her chest and allowing her to take in a much needed deep breath. The man landed on his rear, bouncing once before recovering with surprising alacrity. He rolled to his feet and snatched a nearby earthenware jug, which he promptly brought down on the side of Jayne's head. Inara winced and rolled to the side as a shower of pottery shards and sour smelling ale rained down on them. The blow staggered the mercenary, dropping him to one knee, but failed to knock him unconscious. Inara had to admit she was impressed to see him turn his stumble into an offensive strike as he pushed forward with one leg, tackling his attacker by the waist and bringing them both down in a jumble. The two men rolled around on the filthy planks of the storage room floor for a moment, and before Inara could make a break for the door and some help, she saw Jayne's hand brush against her discarded stockings. His fingers twitched and suddenly they were in his hands and around his adversary's neck. She watched, unable to turn away, as Jayne rolled the man ove,r pulling him up with a yank of the ever tightening stockings. Mal's hired man put one heavy booted foot in the middle of her would-be-rapist's back and pushed down hard, while keeping a steady pressure on the now almost wire thin stockings. Every now and then he'd give a hard jerk, wrapping more of the material around his hands, taking up the slack. Inara could see blood blooming on her attacker's neck and on Jayne's hands as the stockings cut into flesh, the skin bloating slightly and turning purple with the lack of circulation. The man was making no sound as he struggled vainly, the only noise in the room being Jayne's (and her own) mockingly heavy breaths. Finally the body - it was a body now - went slack, slumping forward, straining against the stockings in Jayne's grip. The mercenary tugged his make shift leash back and forth a bit, watching the body flop about, before he seemed satisfied, and finally set his foot back on the ground. "Remind me to kick Mal's ass for you," he threw her way without looking up from his task of carefully unwinding the strangling silk from around his bloody hands. "Stupid hun dan is so busy trying to make it look like he's not watching your every move that he don't watch your every move." "I don't need a babysitter," she told him, smoothing her dress down and carefully fingering the slight swelling on the side of her face, trying to assess the damage. Jayne snorted. "Right. I'll just get the doc then and he can resus this here fella," he toed the corpse none too gently, "and I'll leave you two to your business." Inara pursed her lips tightly then sighed. "Jayne?" she said. He looked over to her then even as he pulled a bit of his shirt up to touch to the tip of his tongue, in, what she assumed, was an attempt to taste the ale with which he'd been clobbered. "Thank you." He let the shirt go and shrugged, wiping his hands on the front instead, leaving brilliant red streaks in their wake. "Hell, `nara, he had it coming. You're a business woman and he wanted it for free," he spat heavily on ground. "That ain't right." She regarded him for a moment a wisp of a smile playing across her lips. "No," she agreed. "It isn't right at all." ----- Having grown up in a wealthy and influential core family River never had the opportunity to go grocery shopping before. Food and household items were always just *there*, magically restocking themselves when needed. She realized household employees most likely went about the daily purchase of required items, going to and from the labyrinth of fresh food markets and giant grocery chains, armed with specifically keyed credit cards carrying amounts set by her mother or father as to keep the help honest. Or perhaps they purchased everything via the cortex, looking through captures of hopeful apples and cumquats and shy little beans all hoping to be chosen and delivered to their new homes. Whatever the case, River never had the opportunity to go grocery shopping before. Until now. She skipped along the isle, opening doors and peeking into bins searching, searching for the items on her list. She hadn't needed to write it all down. Told once, quick and clipped. In one ear and never out the other. They didn't have any paper anyway. She opened one door, and peered into the blackness, the display light having gone out. But she could smell this was the place. Could smell the sharpness of the items on her list. Cataloguing, sifting, looking for the right ingredients. Their soup wouldn't be any good without the right components; the chemical interactions falling flat on the pallet...no fire in the belly. It was a wonderful recipe, wonderful in its simplicity, in its ability to make use of what was on hand...to shift and adapt to the available ingredients, but in the end always turning out the same. She would have to teach it to Kaylee or the Shepherd. She cocked her head to the side as she picked up one of the items on her list, on second though the Shepherd probably already knew this recipe. Squealing in delight she caught sight of the last of her groceries and scoop it up enthusiastically, checking it over for bruises, reading the label carefully. Mission accomplished she ghosted back along the isle, careful not to drop any of her armload, wishing she had the foresight to bring a basket or cart. The thought made her smile. Reaching her destination she gently kicked at the door, morse code, asking for admittance, while peering into the small round window set one third of the way down its surface. It wasn't long before the door swung open with a quiet hiss. "'bout time," the chef said. "She had to make sure everything was ripe," she explained. He took some of the items from her overflowing arms, looking them over as he walked over to the counter. "Yeah, well we don't have a lot of time." She nodded her head in understanding. It was almost supper time. Gently putting down the items she was carrying beside those already assembled, both hers and those the chef collected, she surveyed the entirety. "It will be very spicy," she observed. He didn't look over to her, but instead kept is attention fixed on the measuring cups he was filling and dumping into the large pot set to the side. "It'll have a kick alright," he said. "But that's kinda the point." Already the ingredients in the pot were combining to create and powerful odor, bringing tears to both their eyes. Scent of onions in the air. She watched his measure taking careful note, and when the last teaspoon was added the chef took the pot over to the stove and turn on the element, making sure to keep it at a moderate temperature. Excessive temperature River realized and it would boil over and make a terrible mess. "It cooks up fast, so we gotta split," chef told her, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her from the room. "Time to get the others," she agreed. Get it while it's hot. They moved back along the isles, seeing no other shoppers at this late hour, until they came to the right door; chef popping the heavy handle and pulling the weighty steel open in a wave of cold and frosted air. They stood there at the ready; the captain, Zoe, and the preacher with heavy slabs of frozen meat in their hands...Kaylee and Simon a chicken leg each. "Yesu, Jayne!" the captain exclaimed, rushing out from the cold, rubbing his arms briskly. "What took you so long?" "Had some stuff to do," was the reply. The captain pointed a finger in the larger man's chest. "Maybe next time you might wanna get your priorities straight and come for the poor folk locked in the meat locker *before* you go do whatever else you gotta do." River made a face. "We had to do it first," she explained, "or it would have done you no good. Warm soup for cold feet." "What? Mei, mei," Simon started but was interrupted by the sound of a large explosion, dust and plaster shaking from the ceiling to rain down on them all like powdered sugar on a cake. River blinked up into it, grit getting in her eyes. Dessert. "What the hell was that?" Zoe asked calmly. "A diversion." "Soup." Both chef and River replied instantaneously. Soon they could hear feet moving about, people running to a fro in a panic. "We best get out of here while the gettins' good," chef said, turning go. As they ran from the front door and across the lawn River turned back to see the firefly glow engulfing half the large building, windows blown out, smoke rising it dark columns to disappear into the black sky. Jayne made very good soup. She would have to remember not to forget the recipe. To that end she began to recite the ingredients in her head, making them into a song: solvent, insecticide, drain cleaner, bleach... ----- Kaylee truly didn't mind living day to day, hand to mouth. Working jobs only to make enough money to get them to the next one was their way of life. It wasn't like they purposefully looked for low paying runs, they took the occasional risk and went for the big pay off, but that money never lasted. They usually spent it on whatever struck their fancy, basking in the glow of success for a time before starting all over again. And really she didn't see it as irresponsibility or anything like that, because what else were they going to do with it? She couldn't imagine any of them saving up for a nice little farm house, or the new line of hover craft. They bought what they needed, then they bought what they liked, simple as that. There weren't no raining days in the Black. Except they weren't in the Black right now, they was on a planet, and it was raining pretty damn hard. She stood there soaked through staring at the shiny piece of machinery sitting in the window like it were the cutest damn puppy she'd ever seen. Her hair was plastered against her head, water running off the tip of her nose like a spigot, shuffling feet squishing in the ever increasing mud. She stood there for a long while and in spite of thick clouds she could almost *feel* his shadow looming over her as he sidled up behind her. "Watcha looking at?" he asked. She let her gaze drift from the part to refocus on their reflections in the window, catching his eye. Jayne was looking over her shoulder, a piece of fried meat of some sort spited on a stick in his hand. "Nothin'," she sighed. "Don't look like nothin'," he replied, bringing his cabob back up to his mouth, white teeth tearing at it. Kaylee turned to look at him, forcing him to take a step back. "What does it look like then?" He shrugged one shoulder, wiping at the glisten of grease on his chin, water pouring off the brim of his hat like a waterfall. "A piece of junk," he offered. She stamped her foot, a small explosion of water and mud erupting from beneath her shoe. "It aint a piece of junk!" she fumed. "It's the best converter out there, it'd cut our energy consumption by a third...as it is that's a third we're wasting on nothin'." He grinned at her then, eyes sharp, and she realized he said what he said just to get a rise out of her. Get her to rant about that "nothin'" in the window. "You're such a hun dan," she huffed, cheeks staining. "You want me to hold the place up?" he offered, and she wasn't sure he whether he was joking or not. "Nah, those types of deals go south more times than they go right, you know that," she replied. "I don't want no one getting shot or hurt because I can't get what I want." Jayne laughed at her. "Can't think of a better reason to shoot someone." "No shooting," she reaffirmed. Looking back toward the window the mercenary stooped to get a look at the price then straightened and tossed his snack over his shoulder into the mud. "C'mon," he said, moving back down the street and toward the ship. "Jayne?" she called after him, jogging to catch up to him. "Jayne, what're you up to? I told you I don't want no one to get hurt!" "I'm not going to hurt no one," he told her as she reached his side. "Why you gotta assume I'm going to hurt someone?" "Because I know *you*," she replied, smile in her voice. He shook his head. "No you don't." She sobered a bit at this but couldn't think of anything to say. Luckily the trip back to the ship was a short one and as they made their way up the ramp, the rain cutting off abruptly as they passed into the bay, Jayne turned to her. "You got any mercury on hand?" he asked. "Sure," she offered with enthusiasm, trying to hide her unease. "Why?" "And what coin you got, its coppers then?" "Yeah," she confirmed. "It's the reason I can't get that converter in the first place." Jayne nodded his head one hand reaching up to stroke the whiskers on his chin. "Go get that mercury and the money and meet me in my bunk." "Jayne, what're..." "You want that piece of le-se or not?" he interrupted her briskly. She nodded her head, mouth dropping open in a slight `o'. "The get to it, girl." It didn't take her but a moment or two to gather her small bag of coin and the bottle of mercury Jayne asked for. The hatch to his bunk was open when she got there so she took one last look up down the corridor before balancing her items in one hand and descending the ladder. Once she reached the bottom she saw Jayne sitting on his bed, a small table pulled over to him, a knife and a rag sitting on its pitted surface. "C'mere," he beckoned her, patting the mattress beside him. She silently complied, setting her money and mercury on the table before taking a seat perched precariously on the edge of the bed. "I'm gonna show you a trick here," Jayne said as he up-ended the bag of coins. "Used to do this as a kid back home, pulling one over on the shop keepers `til they got wise." Kaylee watched fascinated as he opened the bottle of mercury, taping out a small amount onto the rag, the liquid metal rolling together into shimmering beads. "What you gotta do it try and get a thin coating of mercury over the copper, makes em' look like platinum. It takes some practice to get it to stick right, but once you got a bag full of them and if the store keeper don't look too hard you can usually pass them off." The mercenary was deftly maneuvering the beads of mercury over the coins with his knife, spreading it out like butter, rubbing it now and then with the corner of the rag. It wasn't long before he had one whole coin coated silver. Kaylee gaped. "That stuffs poison, Jayne!" Ignoring her he picked up the next coin and began the process again. "Jayne!" she smacked him in the arm. He looked up from his work and scowled at her. "As long as you're careful and don't do it too often you're fine! Them x-rays are poison too, but that don't stop them from installing them in shoe shops so's people and kids can look at their feet." "I'm pretty sure that ain't good for you either," Kaylee pointed out. He put down the coin and knife and sat back to look at her. "You want me to stop then? Forget all about that machine part got you all wet?" It was Kaylee's turn to scowl. Snatching up the small knife she slapped it back into his hand. "Show me again." ----- Zoe really shouldn't have been surprised. If she were to run across any member of the crew in a place like this it would definitely have to be Jayne Cobb. Not Inara and what she was, or Kaylee and her lonely perchance for toys, or Wash and his talk and fantasies, but Jayne. Jayne who didn't really have or need a reason for where he was other than being who he was. The question was did she want Jayne to run across her? Biting her lip, she watched him as he perused the rack of magazines and captures, discarding some, passing over others, lingering now and again to flip through the images. She assumed he was trying to get his fill without having to pay for anything, storing the images away in his memory to trot out in his bunk on those endless nights in the Black. She smirked, mind made up. There weren't no reason for her to be self-conscious about being there. She was a married woman with an active sex life...and well, Wash always got so stuttery when it came to stocking up on essential supplies that he always had Zoe go do it. Deciding to take the bull by the horns, so to speak, she squared her shoulders and strode up to Jayne, weaving in and out of the display racks of molded plastic, leather and silk. His attention completely absorbed by whatever image he was bent over he nearly leapt out of his skin when Zoe tapped him on the shoulder. And while he needed to pay better attention to his surrounding, there wasn't anything wrong with his draw as Zoe found his pistol instantly settled between her eyes. "Jayne," she greeted him. "Ta shi suoyou diyu de biaozi de ma!" he swore at her, instantly lifting the gun up and away from her head. "You don't sneak up on a body like that!" "I didn't so much sneak as walk," she informed him. "You were just too damn interested in your reading material there to notice." He holstered his gun, colour rising, but Zoe wasn't sure whether it was from embarrassment for being found out in a place like this, or from being caught off guard. Knowing Jayne she guessed the latter. She made a show of glancing down at the magazine in his hand. "Or is it more of a picture book?" Tossing the slightly crumpled magazine back onto the rack the mercenary grimaced. "Somethin' like that." Curious despite herself Zoe looked more closely at the issue he just chucked, not expecting anything particularly exotic but more along the line of your regular fare of crude breasts and wide spread thighs. She was to be surprised. Legs. Long, lean, legs with high heeled shoes and fine stockings. Snatching the magazine up she flipped through the pictures. All were of women, sometimes naked, sometimes half clothed, but all of them showing off their shapely legs. Bare legs, fish nets, garters, high heels, a myriad of well turned ankles, calves, and thighs. Zoe blinked. "I always figured you for a chest man, Jayne," she stated. The merc snatched the open magazine from her hands and threw it into the rack. "Hey!" the clerk yelled from behind the counter. "Shadup!" Jayne snarled back, before looking back to Zoe. "Okay," he hissed. "I'm gonna tell you a story." She nodded and leaned toward his bent head in a conspiratorial huddle. "When I was a baby my ma breast fed me like most women out on the rim tend to do. Now I'm told I was as fond of food back then as I am of it now, and they had a hell of a time to get me off the nipple and onto solid food on a regular basis. I was about two when my mother got fed up with it and decided to take matters into her own hands. She went and put petroleum jelly on her tit and stuck some chili pepper flakes onto it so's when I went to take a mouthful I got the surprise of my life. It work...I spit it out and never went back." Zoe didn't even try to stifle her laughter. "Scarred you for life did it?" Jayne straightened. "Put me off titties for a good long while that did. Now don't get me wrong, a nice set is a beautiful thing, but I get a look at them and can't help feeling I can't trust them none. Give me a good pair of stems any day." Before she could stop herself Zoe looked down at her own legs in assessment. Jayne caught her and leered. "Ain't a better pair in the `verse, Zoe." Smiling smugly she watched him saunter out of the store, the man behind the counter yelling after him. "Hey, hey you! You damaged that magazine you bought it!" Zoe waved the incensed shop keeper off. "I got it," she said, fishing out a coin and flipping it over to him. Picking up the crumpled magazine, she tucked it under her arm as she waded back amongst the shelves, searching for her own supplies. End ### The End ### From stupid_man_suit28_6_42_12 at yahoo.com Tue Jan 3 19:16:04 2006 From: stupid_man_suit28_6_42_12 at yahoo.com (stupid_man_suit28_6_42_12@yahoo.com) Date: Tue, 03 Jan 2006 19:16:04 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Weak And Powerless _PG_ (1/1) Message-ID: Weak And Powerless by Claramata stupid_man_suit28_6_42_12 at yahoo.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Title: Weak And Powerless Author: Claramata Pairing: Mal/River Disclaimer: Firefly belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, Universal, and many others. "Weak and Powerless" is by A Perfect Circle. I mean no harm by this piece of fanfiction and I'm not making any money off of it. Author's Notes: This is my first Mal/River fic, I'm not very good at writing River (I'm not crazy or smart enough to get the crazy/smart talk XD). I heard this song on a mix tape my friend made me and I thought it was perfect for the pairing, I don't know why. Anyway, enjoy. ++++ Mal felt the world was against him, or at the very least God. Ever since Miranda, just keeping Serenity in the air wasn't enough, because death had followed him out to the black, it'd touched his crew, his family. And he couldn't keep it going like this, he wasn't ready for his little sanctuary to become a place of mourning, but it had, and there was no stopping it. He sat in the cockpit, gazing out over the vast emptiness of space that he used to think was a fitting home for someone as empty as he was, but now it just seemed like a long stretch of lonely, and he was sick and tired of being lonely. He looked over at the girl in the copilot's seat, who was staring at him with deep, knowing eyes, eyes far to old for a girl that young to have. "Guess you know what's troublin' me, don't you, Little Albatross?" "Alone in the dark, used to like it, but now you can't stand it. You want to see light again." She said softly, her serious face beautiful, but her haunted eyes unnerving as she kept eye contact with him for a little longer than was comfortable. "You miss them," she said simply, as if to explain what made perfect sense to him, one of the few things out of her mouth that had. ++++ Tilling my own grave to keep me level Jam another dragon down the hole Diggin' to rhythm and the echo of a solitary siren One that pushes me along and leaves me so... +++ "I have a feeling we all do darlin'." He sighed and looked at one of the plastic dinosaurs that were lined up along the pilot's console, a memorial to the man who should be in the chair Mal now sat in. River just pulled her legs up to her chest and leaned her head against her knees, silently looking at him, her eyes seeing right through him, seeing through to the core of him, it unnerved him to know that she could hear every thought in his head, but it comforted him too, to know that someone on this crew knew he wasn't as strong as he tried to be. Long graceful legs moved and River stood, her bare feet making no sound on the metal floor as she stepped over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You're stronger than you think," Said the girl, no woman, with a soft, sad smile on her face. She wasn't at her crazy best today obviously, since she was making sense. And what scared him now was how he saw her now that she was making more sense. For the past couple of weeks he'd started to see the woman in her and it frightened him, because now that he'd started seeing her as a woman, he knew he couldn't stop. ++++ Desperate and ravenous I'm so weak and powerless over you Someone feed the monkey while I dig in search of China White as Dracula as I approach the bottom Desperate and ravenous I'm so weak and powerless over you ++++ Her big dark eyes seemed to glint and the way she looked at him now, with her head cocked to the side, Mal knew she'd heard that last thought, gorramit, he thought, now what? She smiled and kissed his cheek, saying softly so close to him that her warm breath caressed his chilled skin, "No longer little, no longer sleeping, I'm ready, are you?" He swallowed heavily and stood, moving away from her as quickly as he could. "You gotta learn about the idea of personal space, Little Albatross." He said and started for the door, but a small, warm hand around his wrist stopped him before he could get far. He turned to look at the damned confusing young woman who now held him captive with a gentle hand and dangerously deep eyes. And he was suddenly deathly afraid of what this woman would do, not so much physically, though if she wanted to she could kill him ten different ways with just her little finger, but emotionally. She took a step forward and he took a step back, "Again, personal space," His mouth was telling her, but she could hear his thoughts, he knew, and his mind was screaming closer, closer, please. And she smiled and took another step, he stayed still this time and she approached him, Her free hand coming up to touch his face. "Not empty, not whole, but not gone," He didn't understand what she meant but he didn't have to because she soon leaned up and kissed him, and God help him, he kissed her. He knew that if the Shepard's heaven existed, the preacher was looking down on him, screaming about a special Hell, but he didn't care at this point, because for the first time in a long time, he felt something other than the crushing loneliness. ++++ Little angel go away Come again some other day The devil has my ear today I'll never hear a word you say He promised I would find a little solace and some peace of mind Whatever just as long as I don't feel so... Desperate and ravenous I'm so weak and powerless over you ++++ When they broke apart he looked down at the beautiful girl in his arms and smiled. "I'm not so strong against you, little Albatross". She just leaned against him and murmured something that he couldn't make out, but he was sure it was nonsensical and crazy, he chuckled and held her tighter. He wasn't sure what the next day in the black would bring, but somehow he knew it would be a little bit brighter. ### The End ### From stupid_man_suit28_6_42_12 at yahoo.com Tue Jan 3 19:16:04 2006 From: stupid_man_suit28_6_42_12 at yahoo.com (stupid_man_suit28_6_42_12@yahoo.com) Date: Tue, 03 Jan 2006 19:16:04 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Weak And Powerless _PG_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Weak And Powerless Author: Claramata Feedback: stupid_man_suit28_6_42_12 at yahoo.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/~claramata Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG Genre: het Characters: Malcolm, River Pairings: Mal/River Summary: Mal used to love the lonely life he lead, but now it seems nothing but empty. Notes: Spoilers: Movie spoilers lie withen, don't read if you haven't seen it. Warnings: Mal/River smoochies, you no likey, you no ready. This story is available at the archive: [5k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/weakand.shtml From famhntr at yahoo.com Wed Jan 4 16:42:01 2006 From: famhntr at yahoo.com (famhntr@yahoo.com) Date: Wed, 04 Jan 2006 16:42:01 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Leather _NC-17_ (1/1) Message-ID: Leather by lvs2read famhntr at yahoo.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Simon was sitting on the bed in his room, reading the latest medical information he had downloaded to his handheld Cortex unit, when the door slid open. He glanced up, expecting to see River, and dropped the unit. It wasn't River standing in front of the now closed door, but Mal. He was dressed in tight, black leather pants, slung low on the hips, boots, and a cropped leather vest. His shirt and ever-present suspenders were missing. Simon swallowed, hard, and stammered, "C-Captain?" "Hey, Doc. Thought I'd come by and get your opinion 'bout my new wardrobe. Think it fits okay?" Mal strode farther into the room, and turned a circle so Simon could get the full effect. Like steel to a magnet, Simon slid off the bed and approached Mal. He didn't speak, didn't think he could. When Mal stopped turning, Simon circled him slowly, stopping to enjoy the view of Mal's ass in the tightest pants he'd ever seen. *How in the name of Buddha did he get those on? More to the point, how long will it take me to get them off?* he wondered. He continued his circuit, letting his eyes wander over every inch of Mal's clothing and skin. He came to a halt when he was once again standing in front of Mal, his eyes slowly drifting up to Mal's face. "Speechless, huh? Guess I'll go see what Jayne thinks, then," Mal smirked. As he started to turn, Simon grabbed his wrist and growled, "You will not." "No?" "No. You don't walk into my room dressed like that, get me in this state," Simon waved a hand in the direction of his burgeoning erection, "then tell me you're going to go see Jayne." "I don't?" "No." Grabbing Mal's vest with both hands Simon pulled him down into a searing kiss, all tongues and teeth, hard and wet--each trying to claim the other in a struggle for dominance. Simon let go of the vest, his hands roaming over Mal's body. When they reached Mal's ass, he jerked Mal forward, bringing Mal's erection hard up against his stomach. Mal was no innocent bystander during the kiss. When Simon pulled him down, his hands went up to either side of Simon's face, holding him steady while they ravaged each other's mouths. Soon, though, one hand was cupping the back of Simon's head while the other hand was busy trying to pull the shirt out of Simon's pants. *Too many gorram layers* Mal thought as he finally succeeded in reaching Simon's skin. He was caught slightly off-guard when Simon jerked him forward, but made a quick recovery. Settling his hands on the tight ass that had been enticing him since day one, he tried to lift Simon onto his hips so they could get to the bed. When Simon felt Mal try to lift him, he broke the kiss and all other contact. Holding Mal by the vest again, he said, "Unh unh unh. None of that now. I'm in control here, not you." He spun Mal around, marched him backwards to the bed, then pushed him down flat. Kicking off his shoes, Simon climbed on the bed, straddling Mal, and leaned down to claim Mal's mouth again before moving to his neck and chest. Licking, biting, sucking, kissing, he soon had Mal right where he wanted him--out of control. "Wait, Simon, wait," Mal panted. "Too many layers. Want to feel you." "So. Do something about it," Simon taunted as he sat back up and rocked on Mal's hips. He could feel Mal's erection straining against the leather. God, he needed to get those pants off soon. First, though, he wanted, no needed, Mal to undress him. Mal sat up as much as he could and lifted trembling hands to unbutton Simon's vest. *When did I lose control of this situation? Shouldn't I be the one givin' orders here, bein's I'm Captain of this gorram boat?* he wondered as he finished the vest and began on the shirt. *Finally!* he thought as he reached the last button, only to groan in frustration when the open shirt and vest revealed an undershirt. "You wear too many gorram clothes," Mal ground out as he pushed the shirt and vest off Simon's arms, and reached down to pull the undershirt up and off. He skimmed his hands over Simon's chest and back as he began licking and sucking Simon's neck. "Too cold on this boat. Need extra layers to keep warm," Simon groaned. "I'll show you warm," Mal stated sarcastically as he suddenly shoved Simon down on his back and stretched out on top of him. He reached for the waistband of Simon's pants and asked, "How many layers you wear down here?" "Why don't you investigate and find out," Simon suggested as he pushed his hips up into Mal's hand. "Think I will at that," Mal grinned smugly as his hands busily worked at the fastenings of Simon's pants. Once they were undone, Mal lifted himself off Simon so he could pull them down and off. "What? No longjohns?" Mal scoffed, as Simon's only remaining garment was revealed to be a pair of navy blue silk boxers. "Nope. Don't need them. You going to finish what you started, or are you going to stand there and stare?" "Don't rightly know. Starin' works for me. You're a fine lookin' specimen, there, Simon." "You're not bad, yourself, Mal, but I could do with something more than eyes at this point," Simon growled. "Reckon you could, but I kinda like the look o' that dark blue against your lily-white skin," Mal smirked. "Mal," Simon was beginning to sound extremely frustrated. "All right, no need to get tetchy. Silk, huh?" Mal teased as he removed the boxers. "Yes. It's very soothing. You should try it sometime." "How do you know I haven't?" "You have a point there." And then Simon lost all ability for coherent thought as he felt Mal's mouth on his cock. The hot wetness of that mouth felt so good, and it had been so long! He didn't think he was going to last! "Oh, God. Mal..." He thrust his hips and bit his lip to keep from yelling. It had been a long time since Mal had had someone's dick in his mouth, but some things you just don't forget. Like licking it just so. And using teeth to maximize pleasure. And how hard to suck. And when to swallow. Oh, definitely, when to swallow. He continued to lick and suck Simon's cock until Simon whimpered, then let it slip from his mouth with a gentle plop. He crawled up next to Simon, holding him as he slowly recovered. When Simon's eyes fluttered open, he saw raw hunger on Mal's face. "Hey," he said, reaching up to caress Mal's cheek. "Welcome back." "D'I go somewhere?" "Yeah, you did, but you're back now. Why'd you bite your lip? Wanted to hear you scream." "River..." "Probably knows what we're doing." "No reason to provide audio." "Mmm mmm. Next time we do this in my bunk." "Don't you think we should finish this time, first? You can't be comfortable in these tight pants," Simon purred as he trailed his fingers up Mal's leg. "Conjure you're right. You got the stamina?" "Do I have the stamina?! Why, you..." With that, Simon quickly rolled Mal onto his back and straddled him again. He ran his hands up Mal's chest, under the vest that he hadn't quite managed to remove before. This time he got it off, with a little help. Then he recommenced kissing, licking, biting, and sucking Mal's neck, chest, and stomach, once again bringing him to the edge of losing control. His hands roamed everywhere, trying to feel as much of Mal as possible. Suddenly, his fingers touched something unusual. He lifted his head and said, "My God, you're still wearing your boots!" "Well, you never got around to taking them off earlier," Mal panted. "Didn't get to the pants then, either, case you hadn't noticed." "Oh, that I noticed," Simon said, chuckling as he touched his forehead to Mal's. "How long did it take you to get them on, anyway?" "Don't rightly know for sure. At least an hour," Mal answered, grinning sheepishly. "An hour?! Well, I'm not taking the time needed to get them off you, just so we can put them back on. Guess you'll have to be satisfied with me getting them open far enough to get to your cock. I can, and will, do something about those boots, though." "Can't you just leave them? I'm gettin' fair desperate here." "Nope. I prefer my lovers bootless, thank you. Less chance of being injured in the heat of the moment," Simon said as he stood and started to remove Mal's boots. "Didn't seem to care earlier." "Yes, well, my brain was otherwise engaged. There, that's better." Simon ran his hands up the leather covering Mal's legs, heading for the waistband. "How are these things fastened, anyway? Ah, good, not a zipper." "Not a zipper's good?" Mal groaned in frustration. Closing his eyes he tried to block out the vision of all that beautiful skin standing just inches away. "Yes. I'm not sure I could have unzipped these over your cock, but buttons and laces have just enough give so that, there..." Simon's nimble fingers had been busy, and he finally succeeded in releasing Mal's erection from its leather cage. "God, you're beautiful," Simon breathed as he finally got a chance to look at Mal's engorged cock. "I can't wait to have you fill me." Mal snapped his eyes open, stunned. "You _want_ me to fuck you?!" "Well.. Yes. Unless you don't want to?" "Oh, God, I want to. Just never thought you'd let me." Mal sat up, reaching for Simon. "Well, maybe not always. Sometimes, I'll want to fuck you. But today, yes, fuck me, Mal." Simon pushed Mal back down, crawling on top of him once again as he captured Mal's mouth in a demanding kiss. They devoured each other, tongues clashing, teeth biting. Mal tried to roll Simon over, but Simon was having none of that. He sat up, reaching into the nightstand for his lube. "I want you to fuck me, Mal, but I'm going to be on top. *Dong ma*?" Mal nodded as Simon squeezed some lube on both their hands. "Take it slow and easy. It's been a long time for me." So saying, Simon reached back and spread a liberal coating of lube on Mal's cock before leaning forward on his hands and knees, giving Mal room to work. Mal reached for Simon's dick, stroking it gently for a few moments before letting his hand drift to Simon's balls. He played with them and squeezed gently. Simon's face was in the crook of Mal's neck where he moaned breathily. "Simon, look at me," Mal said as he moved his fingers farther back, stroking the stretch of skin behind Simon's balls. Simon lifted his head, and looked into Mal's eyes. He could drown in those eyes. So deep, so blue, so like the ocean he missed so much. And the sensations Mal's fingers were causing! He could feel himself getting hard again. When Mal slipped a finger into his opening, he sighed with pleasure. His eyes started to flutter closed, but Mal whispered "Keep them open," so he did, watching Mal as he was slowly stretched and opened. He leaned down for another soul stealing kiss as Mal's fingers moved faster and deeper. He started to thrust back on Mal's hand. "Still want to take it slow and easy?" Mal's voice tickled his ear. "Fuck, no! Want to ride you." "Sounds like a plan." Simon pushed up off his hands and onto his knees. He reached back for Mal's cock, and watched Mal as he slowly lowered himself onto the velvety steel rod. Oh, God, it felt so good! He hadn't felt this full, this complete, this alive in he didn't know how long! He broke eye contact with Mal, throwing his head back in delight. Mal watched Simon's face as his dick was engulfed in Simon's opening--an opening that, in spite of all their preparation, was tighter than Mal expected. But Simon's face showed no sign of pain, only ecstasy. It humbled Mal to think he could bring that look to someone's face. Mal's hands slowly stroked up Simon's thighs and hips. After Simon was fully seated, Mal brought his knees up, planted his feet on the bed, and asked, "I thought you were going to ride me?" "Oh, I am. Believe me, I am." With that, Simon began to move slowly up and back down on the cock in his ass. He knew Mal needed more, but he hoped by starting out slowly to make it last. He reached down with his hands and began caressing Mal's chest, first teasing him with light, fluttery strokes. As he built momentum, he deepened the caresses, tweaking Mal's nipples before leaning down to lick them, running his nails along Mal's skin at odd moments, tickling Mal's sides, trying to drive Mal over the edge and out of control. Soon Mal was no longer content to be ridden. He began thrusting up into Simon, meeting him thrust for thrust. He looked at Simon, wanting to make eye contact again, but Simon's eyes had closed as he gasped for air. He saw that Simon was hard again, and knowing how much more intense their orgasms would be if they came together, he grasped Simon's dick with his still slick hand and began to pump in time with their thrusts. A jolt went straight through Simon, causing him to falter momentarily. He looked down at Mal, and as they made eye contact, his rhythm returned. "*Tianna*, Mal. Feels so good. Don't stop," he panted. "Not planning to. Come for me, Simon. Want to feel your come on me. Come for me." "Come with me, Mal. Oh, God, come with me!" "Right there with you. *Wa Cao*!" And as Simon's seed spurted onto Mal's chest and stomach, Mal gave one final thrust up into Simon and came deep in the tight ass he admired so much. Simon collapsed onto Mal's chest as Mal wrapped his arms around him. As their heart rates slowed to normal, they held each other, sticky and sweaty, smelling of sex, and content. At last, Simon propped himself up on his elbows, and stroking Mal's hair off his forehead said, "That was amazing. What took us so long?" "Can't help it you haven't been catching my signals," Mal smirked. "Huh? What signals? All you've ever done is hit me, berate me, ridicule me..." Simon started to roll off Mal, but Mal held him in place as he said, "Yeah. Signals." "What!?!" Simon cried out in shock. "Maybe for Jayne! Definitely not for me!" "Yeah, finally figured that out. Decided to take the direct approach." Mal rubbed tiny circles on Simon's back in silent apology. "Well, I'm glad you finally figured it out." Simon relaxed into the soothing motions. "Yeah, me too." Mal gave Simon a quick kiss. "Let's take a nap, then move this to my bunk, 'kay? Think I'll need some help gettin' these pants off." "Sounds like a plan," Simon teased. ### The End ### From famhntr at yahoo.com Wed Jan 4 16:42:01 2006 From: famhntr at yahoo.com (famhntr@yahoo.com) Date: Wed, 04 Jan 2006 16:42:01 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Leather _NC-17_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Leather Author: lvs2read Feedback: famhntr at yahoo.com Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: NC-17 Genre: *slash* Characters: Malcolm, Simon Pairings: M/S Summary: Mal's wearing leather and Simon takes charge--need I say more? Notes: Adult Only--PWP Thanks to kispexi2 for being my beta reader! Thanks to sffan, jezdenly, executrix, & sparky77 for their inspiration! This story is available at the archive: [13k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/leather.shtml From the.grynne at gmail.com Wed Jan 4 06:45:41 2006 From: the.grynne at gmail.com (the.grynne@gmail.com) Date: Wed, 04 Jan 2006 06:45:41 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Of Necessity _PG-13_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Of Necessity Author: The Grynne Feedback: the.grynne at gmail.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/the_grynne Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Malcolm, Simon, River Summary: "An ideal subject has been located, just as I have almost begun to give up hope." This story is available at the archive: [2k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/ofnecessity.shtml From the.grynne at gmail.com Wed Jan 4 06:45:41 2006 From: the.grynne at gmail.com (the.grynne@gmail.com) Date: Wed, 04 Jan 2006 06:45:41 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Of Necessity _PG-13_ (1/1) Message-ID: Of Necessity by The Grynne the.grynne at gmail.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. OF NECESSITY By The Grynne *** *Every effort of mine is a condemnation of fate;* *and my heart is--like a corpse--buried.* - Constantine P. Cavafy, *The City* *** An ideal subject has been located, just as I had almost begun to give up hope. Her physical condition is excellent. She is of the right age; more importantly, in terms of the current stage that she is at in the development of her mental faculties, she is precisely what I have been waiting for. I have been assured that there will be no trouble from those we took her from. She will begin immediately. There has been enough time lost. *** The girl under my charge - I have knowledge of her name but I have chosen not to use it; it is a halfwit that would equate what she was with what the procedures have made of her - is already displaying behaviour that is consistent with what I predicted. *Paranoid schizophrenia.* Judging by her symptoms, that is indeed an appropriate estimation of her condition. Not a sound one - incorrect - but appropriate. It is a positive sign. *** Despite my precautions, she managed to escape her room and go outside the ship. We have been forced into the air sooner than we'd have liked. "Wh...What..." The captain turned to me, once we had her safely locked away, his face a worrying shade of red. "What in hell's name have you done to her?" "Only what I had to." "That *certainly* wasn't in the gorram plan." "I have done what I had to, Captain Reynolds, to better understand what was done to River. So I can treat her." I saw that he is angry, but why, I could not fathom. "That girl is not in any pain," I said gently. "I took care of that." "If she isn't in any pain then *why is she trying to run away?*" My hand went out to silence him; there were River's eyes around the corner of the infirmary door, looking at us. Trembling and full of tears. "Simon..." She stumbled into my arms. Mal's face was desolate. *** I feel that my notes of the most recent weeks - which I have gone over again and again with increasing desperation - have been driving me towards a sobering conclusion. The restorative surgery that I performed on the patient has not improved her condition any. Without the cognitive reserves of a genius, I fear she is steadily declining into a permanent catatonic state. And River will no longer speak to me. *** What will it take to make her well again? Could love, joy, pity? Is there any planet where we can run? Is there any place where she will follow me? _The End_ 4 January 2006 ### The End ### From inquisitive1swork at hotmail.com Wed Jan 4 22:09:41 2006 From: inquisitive1swork at hotmail.com (inquisitive1swork@hotmail.com) Date: Wed, 04 Jan 2006 22:09:41 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Destined Destined Chapter 18 _PG_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Destined Chapter 18 Series: Destined Author: inquisitive1 Feedback: inquisitive1swork at hotmail.com Author Website: http://inquisitive1swork.bravehost.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG Characters: Jayne, River Pairings: Jayne/River Summary: Jayne and River are together. From inquisitive1swork at hotmail.com Wed Jan 4 22:09:41 2006 From: inquisitive1swork at hotmail.com (inquisitive1swork@hotmail.com) Date: Wed, 04 Jan 2006 22:09:41 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Destined Destined Chapter 18 _PG_ (1/1) Message-ID: Destined Chapter 18 by inquisitive1 inquisitive1swork at hotmail.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. CHAPTER 18 6 MONTHS LATER After midnight Mal walks onto the bridge where he finds Jayne leaning back in the chair a magazine in one hand and Charlie against his chest with a bottle in his other hand. "Take it River's out to the world." Jayne looks up, "Doc sedated her. She's been up for two days." "She did flip out earlier." Mal says thoughtfully. "You spent all day chasing her down." Jayne shrugs "She'll be fine once she gets some sleep." He looks at Mal, "Why are you up?" "Can't sleep." Mal drops on the co-pilot's chair. "Switching schedules has messed with my system." "Since when do you have a system?" Jayne retorts setting his magazine on the console. Mal glares at him. "Besides I might as well be on duty since this is when Charlie's up anyway." "I know. Just feels weird to be tryin to sleep this early." "Hey you want this shift... you can also take Charlie." Jayne offers. "I can sleep longer." "She is your kid; your responsibility." Mal retorts. "Still find that amusin." Mal chuckles looking at Charlie who is kicking her feet as she looks out the window. "Why is that? I did help take care of my brothers and sisters ya know." Jayne points out. "Yeah well I didn't know you then." Mal returns. "How old is Timmy?" Jayne frowns thoughtfully "23, 24." "Can't remember how old your own brother is?" Jayne shrugs "Ain't like we were raised together." He shifts Charlie in his arms. "Still weird." Mal remarks and the two men sit in silence the only sound heard is Charlie drinking her bottle. HOUR LATER Jayne sets Charlie in the crib then strips down to his boxers and crawls into bed beside River. He pulls her close, 'Tomorrow will be a good day.' He kisses her head draping his limbs over River's body. MORNING River stirs rubbing at her eyes she tries to move when she hears Charlie talking to herself in the crib only to find herself pinned by Jayne's body; unable to even squirm under his weight River nuzzles his neck hoping to wake him, "Jayne." Jayne slowly opens his eyes and looks down at River who is looking at him amused, "Mornin already?" River nods watching as he rubs at his eyes sleepily. "Charlie's awake." "She hungry?" River tilts her head then shakes her head in response, "Just awake." "Then she's fine." Jayne grumbles River tucks her head under his chin, "Going to have to let me up sooner or later." "Later." "OK" River smiles feeling him tangle his fingers in her hair. A few minutes later Jayne growls in annoyance as he hears a bang on their door. "Jayne" "Go way Kaylee. I'm sleeping." Jayne returns as he nuzzles River's head with his chin. "Jayne, come on please." "No" "You get to use the torch." River giggles hearing him perk up at the idea. "Come on Jayne. I know you love to use the torch." "Why can't Mal do it?" "Doin somethin else. Please Jayne." Jayne looks at River who just gives him a smile, "Be right there Kaylee." "Thank you Jayne." Jayne groans in annoyance, "Nice and comfy now I have to get up." "Go help Kaylee." River watches as he rolls out of bed and pulls on his clothes. "Stayin in bed or what?" "Getting up." River stretches yawning. WHILE LATER: MESS HALL "Thought we discussed food fights." Mal remarks watching as Jayne and River have a mini food fight. Inara takes Charlie off Jayne's lap. "Hey" Jayne protests "I haven't seen this cutie in days." Inara smiles at Charlie. "And besides it looks like it is up to Simon and I to make sure she has decent manners... especially table manners." She looks at Jayne and Mal lifting her brow. "Hey" Mal and Jayne protest River giggles knowing Inara is right. "She's right. Out of all of us you two have the worst manners." Zo remarks as she takes a sip of her coffee. "Hey even I have better manners than you two." Wash states with a grin. "Only because I would shoot you dear." Zo replies "Kaylee's just as bad." Jayne argues "Only here." Kaylee returns "Ma taught me manners... just don't use em. Had to learn em. Nanna used to get mad if we didn't. And that woman was scary. Once she smacked Jakey with a switch for eating with his hands... and he was only 3." She shudders "If she saw how we behave at the table... hell she'd take the switch to even Jayne. And for such an old lady she hits hard." "Remind me never to meet her." Wash remarks "My manners are fine." Mal protests River giggles, "I got in trouble once for using the wrong fork at a dinner party." "I forgot about that." Simon laughs at the memory. "Got sent to my room for the rest of the night." "What's the big deal bout that?" Wash asks "We were drilled about the dinner rules when guests were over. One night River was fed up and incredibly cranky so she tested mother. Decided to use the desert fork rather than the salad fork." "Big deal." Mal waves off "Oh to Mother it was. Took two weeks to get her off the topic." "Two hours every day she lectured me. Right fork and wrong fork. What to do. What not to do. She made my head hurt." River grumbles snatching a piece of meat off Jayne's plate. "Hey stop stealin off my ruttin plate." Jayne snags the roll off River's place. "Hey." River protests "Fairs fair." Jayne says smugly. Inara looks at the grinning baby, "See Charlotte this is why you have us around... when your parents are acting like children themselves there's always an adult around." "Hey" Jayne protests "Jayne, you do act like a child half the time." Kaylee states "Sometimes?" Simon snorts. "Any time those two are in the same room something childish happens. Whether it is River tying Jayne's laces together or Jayne chasing her around the ship to get even." "It is fun." River shrugs "Alright who's turn is it to do clean up?" Mal asks "Jayne's." River says quickly. "Is not. It's your turn." "No it isn't." River argues "Then Kaylee's turn." "Nope last night." Kaylee shrugs "Then Simon's." "No. Lunch yesterday." "One of ya is gonna haveta take it" Mal remarks looking between the two. "You do them." Jayne says "No." River shakes her head. "You" "Highest card?" "You got mad last time." River replies "Fine you do clean up I'll clean up the bunk." "Last time you found a magazine and I ended up cleaning up the bunk." River points out. "Arm wrestle?" River scrunches up her nose, "Nah... licked you last time and you got mad." The group watches as the two continue to make deals. "Because that's cheating." Jayne argues. "Well darts are out of the question." "Why don't you work together?" Wash suggests "Last time they didn't get any cleaning done. Found them makin out on the couch." Mal says dryly. "Did not need to know that." Simon states "You are still in denial Simon?" Inara asks amused "I prefer to think of it as avoidance." "Rock, paper, scissor?" Jayne suggests "Know the odds." River shrugs "Cheating." She grins mischievously. "I don't like that look." Jayne says warily. "That's what led to the incident." "I don't like that look either." Simon remarks. "Reminds me of the time she glued my shoes to the wall." "I will do the dishes under one condition." "What?" Jayne asks warily. "Why am I not liking her tone?" Mal asks Inara who just shrugs "You have to be nice to Simon all day. No name calling and no annoying." "A whole day?! Oh come on that ain't fair. I can't last that long and you know it." "He's got a point River." Simon says amused at Jayne's tone. "Hmm bein mean to Doc... doin dishes..." Jayne debates "He is so doing the dishes." Wash remarks "He can't help it. Not in him to not annoy me all day." "Think your right." Mal agrees. "Oh come on guys. Jayne may be grumpy but we all know he hates cleanin up." Kaylee points out. "So where is Book?" Inara asks curiously. "Dropped him off at some sort of retreat." Mal shrugs. "Pickin him up at the end of the week." "Fine I'll do the ruttin dishes." Jayne surrenders. "Knew it." Mal says smugly. "Ah come on Jayne." Kaylee sighs "Couldn't you just be nice to Simon for a day?" Jayne tilts his head then replies, "No." Jayne quickly finishes off his breakfast. NOON Simon stops in his tracks when he sees River lying on her stomach on the floor besides Charlie drawing as the baby coos happily playing with a toy. "So how is Charlie?" River looks at her daughter then at Simon, "She's having fun. Says she wishes there were colors here. She wants to go outside soon." She looks at her picture. "She wants her Daddy to come back before naptime so they can play. Wants to know lots of things." River shrugs continuing to draw. "How are you feeling River?" Simon asks concerned. River shrugs "I'm fine." "Alright." Simon sits on the couch with a book. COUPLE HOURS LATER River stirs awake when she feels Jayne stroke her cheek. She opens her eyes "Hi" she says sleepily. "Hey baby" Jayne says softly well aware of Charlie napping next to her. "How's Charlie?" "Wanted to play with you before nap time. But couldn't keep her eyes open." She watches Jayne carefully picks Charlie up and sets her in the crib. Jayne strips out of his dirty clothes and pulls on his sweatpants before joining River in bed. "Let's get some sleep." River snuggles against him, "Missed you." "Wasn't gone long." "Still missed you." NEXT AFTERNOON: PLANET As she roams Serenity while Mal, Simon, and Jayne are off ship trading for medical supplies, Inara frowns hearing the sounds of crying she enters the sitting room where she finds Charlie on the floor crying as River stares blankly into space. "River" Inara quickly picks up the baby, "Its OK Charlotte." She soothes "River" Hearing her voice River snaps out of it and looks at Inara who is holding the baby, "She hears them. Feels their hunger. Its like hot pokers searing her brain..." She puts her hands over her ears. "Charlie, stop it!" She yells "River" Inara says startled at her friend's scared and angry tone as Charlie's cries get louder. A moment later Zo enters "What is it?" "I don't know." Inara says puzzled "I just heard Charlotte crying and found River like this." Inara shifts the baby. River looks at Zo, "Their coming." "Who?" River closes her eyes and rocks "Their hungry... bored... its not just food... hunting." Zo stares at River, "You mean Reavers?" River shudders, "So much anger in them." "Might want to get back here Captain. River says Reavers are comin." "Have Wash ready to go." Mal stands "All that you needed Doc?" "Damn" Jayne mutters "Think so." Simon says as he looks over the equipment they traded for. The three grab the bags and walk back towards Serenity Once aboard Serenity, Jayne drops the bag he is carrying takes the steps three at a time he reaches Inara who is holding a crying Charlie and River nowhere in sight, "Where's River?" "No idea." Inara replies "She didn't leave Serenity would have seen her." Mal remarks as he and Simon walk up the stairs with the bags. "She could be hiding anywhere." Simon says worried. "I think I know where she is." Jayne clomps down the steps. River sits in her hiding spot tears still falling. 'So much anger... hunger.' She remains still as she feels Jayne's presence approaching. "We're leavin baby. Why don't you come out?" He suggests "Yelled at Charlie." Jayne rests his head on the container as he watches River, "Why?" "Got into their heads... wanted to show me." River presses the heels of her hands over her eyes, "Didn't want to see it. Wanted her out. Tried to push her out... wouldn't let me. Dug in... like a hook. Wanted me too see darkness..." River glances at Jayne, "Didn't mean to yell... just wanted her out... to stop it." "What did you see?" Jayne asks River shakes her head, "No" "Scared you" River closes her eyes, "Their coming." "We're leavin baby girl. Won't be there when they get there." He reaches out to touch her only to have River shrink away. "Don't touch. Like needles digging into me." She shudders "Gonna come out of here?" River shakes her head "Go way." "River" "Please" she begs Jayne nods "Know where to find me." He stands walking away. "She hidin?" Mal asks as Jayne enters the mess hall. "Yes." "What happened?" Simon asks "Seems Charlie wanted to see the Reavers head... thought River should see as well." Jayne takes the crying baby. "Oh no... must have scared River big time." Kaylee says worried. Jayne nods "Then why did she yell at Charlie?" Inara asks "Seems Charlie wanted River to see... even though River didn't want too." "So is River comin out of hiding?" Kaylee asks "Don't think we'll see her for a while." Jayne replies walking out of the mess hall with Charlie. "How bout we go look at the shiny new guns? Always cheers me up." Simon shakes his head at Jayne's statement. "Only Jayne would think guns could cheer up a baby." He walks out of the mess hall heading to the infirmary to work. Jayne leans back against the wall Charlie cradled against his chest and opens a magazine. "Nice" He says with approval, "do some damage with that one." EVENING River turns her head to see Jayne hunkering down to check on her. "Gonna come up for dinner?" River shakes her head. "Want me to bring you somethin to eat?" River shakes her head before returning her head to the wall. "Alright." River closes her eyes listening as Jayne's footsteps fade away. Jayne enters the mess hall, "She ain't comin out." "Same hiding spot?" Mal asks Jayne nods glancing at Charlie who is lying on a blanket on the floor playing with some toys and sits. "Do you know where all her hidin spots are?" Wash asks curiously. "Know where a few are. But she has more. Some she hides in when she doesn't want anyone to find her." Jayne shrugs "She'll come out sooner or later." 3AM Stripping down to his boxers Jayne drops on the bed with a groan too tired to move he falls asleep with the lights on. HOUR LATER Jayne awakes when he feels a weight on his thighs and opens his eyes to find River staring at him. "Finally come out of hidin huh?" He asks softly not wanting to wake the baby. River stares at him Jayne sits up and brushes her hair back, "What's wrong baby?" "Make the screams stop." "River" "Don't want to think. Want silence." She whispers tears threatening to fall, "Please Jayne." She takes his face between her hands, "Please zhang fu... need silence... need to feel. Need them out." She trails her fingers over his face before kissing him. DAWN < "We'll keep coming for you. You can block us but we'll find you." "Just leave me alone." River screams "Soon we'll find you River Tam. We'll keep coming. They'll keep coming. You can't hide for long. They will die protecting you." > River awakens with a gasp and looks at Jayne who asleep beside her. She winces at the endless possibilities of her life and the deaths of her family as they flash. She lifts her hand to Jayne's cheek, 'I could lose him... lose Charlie. Lose Simon... my whole family.' She tucks her head under his chin her mind made up. 'When I can... I leave. They can live without me. I can't live if they die. Can't let them kill my family.' TBC... ### The End ### From azuremonkey at livejournal.com Thu Jan 5 02:52:07 2006 From: azuremonkey at livejournal.com (azuremonkey@livejournal.com) Date: Thu, 05 Jan 2006 02:52:07 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] naked!Firefly Respite _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Respite Series: naked!Firefly Author: azuremonkey Feedback: azuremonkey at livejournal.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Inara Pairings: Inara/Mal Summary: Inara's bathing when Mal bursts in. Notes: slightly sexual content This story is available on the web: [22k] http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/5698.html From azuremonkey at livejournal.com Thu Jan 5 02:55:39 2006 From: azuremonkey at livejournal.com (azuremonkey@livejournal.com) Date: Thu, 05 Jan 2006 02:55:39 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] naked!Firefly No Rest for Mal _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: No Rest for Mal Series: naked!Firefly Author: azuremonkey Feedback: azuremonkey at livejournal.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen het Characters: Malcolm - all crew Pairings: Inara/Mal, slight Mal/Kaylee & Mal/Zoe Summary: Mal's seen Inara naked and now he needs divine intervention. Notes: sexual content, naked crew Sequel to: Respite This story is available on the web: [29k] http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/5962.html From azuremonkey at livejournal.com Thu Jan 5 02:58:40 2006 From: azuremonkey at livejournal.com (azuremonkey@livejournal.com) Date: Thu, 05 Jan 2006 02:58:40 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] naked!Firefly Surprises _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Surprises Series: naked!Firefly Author: azuremonkey Feedback: azuremonkey at livejournal.com Author Website: http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen het Characters: Malcolm - all crew Pairings: Mal/Inara, slightest of Kaylee/Jayne Summary: Nudity aboard Serenity's gettin' worse and Mal's decided enough's enough. Notes: sexual content, naked crew Sequel to: No Rest for Mal This story is available on the web: [33k] http://www.livejournal.com/users/serenfics/9464.html From hosscheka at yahoo.com Sat Jan 7 11:03:54 2006 From: hosscheka at yahoo.com (hosscheka@yahoo.com) Date: Sat, 07 Jan 2006 11:03:54 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Mine Eyes Have Seen _R_ (1/1) Message-ID: Mine Eyes Have Seen by hossgal hosscheka at yahoo.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. The corridor was Alliance: bright, unstained, three meters tall and half a world long. It arced around the station's rim in a slight curve that made the squares of flooring just barely uneven, ensuring the panels on the inner curve never matched the outer. The line of prisoners - detained combatant personnel - sprawled against the inner wall and halfway across the deck, leaving clear only the floor beside the starscape panels that sectioned the outside panels. The walls were white and clean and carried a hint of ionizing disinfectant. The line was grey and ragged and frankly stank of devitalization. A man might be forgiven for hating that corridor, and that line, with the sort of bone-deep, bitter, futile anger best reserved for animate objects. If a man were interested in forgiveness, that is. It had been six weeks since the cease-fire of Serenity Valley. Malcolm Reynolds, late of the Fourth Independent Army, felt the weight of every moment since, layered on his shoulders like dust. Beside him, Zoe sat quietly, her head tipped back against the wall and her eyes shutting away the 'verse. Beneath the lights, her skin was dull, even the pale cap where they'd clipped her hair short like a spring ewe. Past her, the line stretched out hundreds of meters before it cut out of sight around the bend of the passageway. To the other side of Mal, a narrow-faced man with an old scar twisting his mouth rested on his heels, staring across the corridor at nothing. The line extended in that direction as well, towards whatever end the Alliance command had in mind for those it had gathered up. Gathered unwillingly - Alliance commanders and Independent troops alike were displeased by the progress of events that had set the mass of prisoners on the station. Mal had heard tell, somewhere, weeks before, that the detainees numbered better than seven thousand. Zoe had laughed at the number. "Ain't that many of us alive any more." Mal had agreed with her, but since then he had seen so many captured that he doubted his own eyes. There'd been troops from every Independent unit that had stood long enough to agree to a name and a patch - Whitefall First Volunteers, Second Persephone Artillery, 42 Lotus Falling. Some he hadn't seen for years, since the start of the war. Other units he knew had never been in Serenity Valley. *They might be ghosts*, he thought. *Caught up by the Alliance, and with no home left to go to.* No home but this creeping journey through a bright-lit hell. In any case, it made no never-mind what patches the prisoners wore. The Alliance had badgered them and insulted them and tagged them like lost beeves and then thrown them together - officers and enlisted, volunteers and regulars, mostly ground troops but with a passel of air cav and even a scattering of space crews. They shared the same open bays during the dimlight hours, ate from a common pot, stood in the same line, from can-see to can't-see, or what passed for such outside of a world's gravity. The day before had been spent in the line - following a snaking trail from small hours and a scant breakfast, and dragging on, and on, until it ended eighteen hours later. So had the day before, and the day before that. The stops at the ID stations, at the interview station, the medics - all of those were a blink and a miss, between hours in line. A shift forward would ripple down the line like the flutter of a banner, three steps at once, then four more. Then the line would stop and lean against the wall. If the pause was long enough, the prisoners would slide down in ones and twos and tens to sit on their duffels and the bare floor and, finally, stretch out in sleep on the deck. The line was moving again - a clump of figures rising, walking a handful of paces, and then slumping down, one after the other. Mal struggled to his feet and wrapt his hand around his duffle strap. Didn't bother to swing it up this time, only set the end down on his foot and stepped it forward that way - thump, slide, thump, slide. Five meters, ten, thirteen. Then the man ahead of Mal stopped and dropped his bag to the floor, his haunches following. Mal sat and leaned back. Beside him, Zoe slid down the wall and sat beside him, keeping her feet tucked up against her, tidy-like. Mal shoved his boots out into the corridor. The line kept rippling down the corridor and out of sight, like the water in a mud puddle after a frog jumped out. Or, it would have, had it not caught up against a piece of refuse along the way. Fifteen meters down from Mal, a black-haired woman with a 5th Eris Volunteers patch on her ragged jacket stood twisting her hands and craning her head back and forth, staring moon-eyed up and down the corridor. A green-crusted bandage had been plastered over one eye and the side of her head. The uncovered eye was glazed and unfocused. As the line around her flopped like sacks of grain to the floor, the woman's head moved faster, side to side, and her mouth fell open. "Here it comes," muttered the grey-haired woman on the other side of Zoe. And on the heels of the words, the Eris woman began grunting - "*Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!* A chorus of lamentations swept down the line. "*Bee-jway*!" "Stuff a boot in her, mister!" "Enough of that *gos se*!" "Oh, come on! Not again!" Even as the complaints gained volume, the soldier beside the injured woman - a boy, face still red-berry speckled - reached up, hand flailing before it latched onto the woman's belt. A steady tug and a murmur, too quiet for Mal to hear, brought the woman's attention down to knee level. Clasping his hand in both of hers, she collapsed to the floor, ending her descent tight against the other troop and silent. One voice kept up the complaint anyway. "Rutting brain-blown skut - shoulda left her for the purple-pissers." The speaker was a thick-armed man in a regular's colors. "Not too late to stick a knife in her." There was a low murmur of sanction, and a louder snarl of opposition. Beside Mal, the scar-faced man spoke without turning his head. "She made it this far, she ain't hurting nobody." There was no heat in his voice. The regular wasn't having any of it. "She's stinking up the whole goram line with her face rotting off and that ruttin' racket she makes don't let me sleep! I get up the line, I'm gonna tell the purps `bout that crazy bug you got there, so's they take her someplace else!" The Eris boy half turned to shout down the line, "*Choo fay wuh suh leh*!" his arm holding the other troop close. "Watch me, stick-boy!" Down the line, another voice spoke, "It ain't her swanking now, army man. Just your fat ass. Shut up and leave it alone." The reg swung around to glare behind him. Before he could speak, a voice hissed, "*Bee-jway*! Guards coming!" Over the top of the warning, Mal heard the tramp of feet. A squad - five troops in close-order, clear shields held by their sides, with a broad shouldered sergeant leading. "Make a hole there! Make a hole!" Grumbling and cursing, the prisoners pulled their feet out of the middle of the corridor, and shuffled tighter to one side. At Zoe's glare, Mal drug his heels back in, but otherwise declined to move. The Alliance troops had the whole corridor to walk through; they could lend him half a meter. From Zoe's look, she didn't seem to think the guards were going to cotton to that. Mal lifted his head in time to see the Alliance NCO pick up his foot and set it against a duffle that was lying a centimeter too far into the line of traffic. "Keep the corridor clear!" The pack bounced off the wall when it hit, its owner scrambling after, away from the same boot. Up and down the line, there was a shuffle of feet tucked up and gear drug further in. Zoe turned her head to watch the lavender-livers go. Mal let his eyes slide shut, closing away the light and the sight of that shiny clean corridor. He could do nothing about the sound and the sullen mutter of the prisoners that rasped on his ears like rusted wire. Day in, day out, the bitter words never stopped. Even late at night, when the lights were dimmed as far as they went (or so claimed the Alliance guards) and the long dining halls-cum-barracks were filled with row after row of blanketed forms, huddled like roosting hens, there was always someone speaking, someone whispering a long train of invective against the Alliance, against a fellow prisoner, against fate. In the small hours, it would fade into a rat-scrabble hiss that rose and fell like the wind in a roof-shingle, only to grow again in the morning over breakfast; fed, like the prisoners, on thin gruel and stale rice cakes. In the line it would gather itself into a jouncing rhythm, like a horse settling into a mile-eating jog. On occasions, it would wane quiet, and at others rise to a near shout. Some *would* shout, like the head plastered woman down the line, and her reg friend. Then, others would shout back, and their mates, and the whole corridor would ring with cat-calls and fair-thee-wells. At times, it seemed everyone had friends. Everyone except Malcolm Reynolds. The scarred man climbed to his feet. Mal waited until Zoe nudged him; then he stood and picked up his duffle. By this time, there was a three meter space between Mal and the next man. Two men stepped out into the middle of the corridor and tried to pass. Zoe threw out her arm. "Keep your place - we're all going to get there." One of the men looked inclined to argue. The other just said, "You're holding up the line. Keep him moving." "Ain't him holding up the line - talk to the lavi-livers, if you got some place to be." But with her other arm Zoe was pushing Mal forward. Mal went. Five steps. Ten. Twelve. Then the man ahead of Mal stopped, set his duffle down. Mal stared for a moment at the pale, stubble-flecked head. Then he dropped his duffle as well. Sat on it, shifted his weight off a firm edge, sat again. Slid off the duffle and curled next to it, on the floor. Closed his eyes. He must have slept, then, for when he woke he could not recall where he was. The light overhead was saffron, not ivory, and flickered. It made the paler faces around him look peaked and sickly, and even Zoe's skin was flattened, her eyes hollowed. She touched his shoulder and made a motion with her chin up the line. Mal turned and followed the gaze of the other prisoners, all watching the squad picking their way along. This was a six-count - a regular squad plus an officer. A young one, boots slick-shined and trouser leg ceases sharp as regret. Mal felt the cleanliness-hate well up in his throat again, and choked it back down. The NCO, like the man before him, was pushing the line back towards the inner wall. "Make a hole! Keep the deck clear!" Mud-turtle sullen, the prisoners made way. The officer's eyes swept up and down the line, a frown forming around her almond eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, was Alliance, just like the corridor - light and unmarred. "Independent personnel, you have no excuse for behavior that puts this station at risk. You will keep this corridor clear and you will maintain the line. You have been briefed on this daily. Do not feign ignorance." Mal thought maybe someone would volunteer an observation unoriginal and inspired by stupidity - perhaps even one of the scowling regulars - but the glare of the Alliance NCO kept the looser tongues behind teeth. The lieutenant paced slowly up the line, looking at each prisoner, one by one. At the bandaged woman, the officer paused, nose wrinkling. "You, there - what's your unit?" The boy straightened up, pressed a hand to his squad mate. "We're Fifth Eris, ma'am." "Has she been to a medic today?" "Yessum, she's been, she's fine." "Today? She got those bandages today? Which medic did she see?" The lieutenant pulled out a pad, started making notes. "I dunno, all the uniforms look the same." A snicker ran down the line, and the Alliance NCO barked, "At ease!" The snuffling laughter died away. The officer still frowned. She flipped over the woman's id badge, read the number. "I don't care if she's already been to the medics today - if she starts having problems, you contact one of the guards, and we'll get her to a hospital bay." The boy nodded, eyes wide and terrified. The officer stepped back. "Sergeant, let's keep moving." As they moved down the line, the boy's gaze followed them. Mal had first laid eyes on the woman three days before, and her bandages had been stain-soured then. The medics made a call for injured and sick every morning. Some went. Most didn't. Mal had come to the station as one of four - four *left* - when ten weeks before he had been one of two hundred, and one of a thousand as recent as three months ago. But he had ended the battle for Serenity Valley shorn of the responsibility of command, stripped clean of the sort of entanglements that comrades and squad mates and brothers in arms evoked. Being free, it was understood, of comrades and squad mates in general, and in specific down to one other person who knew the name he had been born with. Some of the others had come to the detainee station similarly orphaned. Most did not stay that way - latching onto a knot of survivors clinging together, or finding another couple of one-counts to mesh with. Mal found himself shedding people as the days went on. There had been four. Four, and one had died, and one had gone to sick call, and not come back. Try as he might, Mal had not shaken Zoe loose. *Is he going to eat that?* The man across the table had gestured at Mal, but his words were addressed to Zoe. *He might.* The prisoner was the same shade of grey as the gruel - grey skin, grey hair, brown coat gone to grey under the dust of ashes. Five weeks, and the Alliance was still short of clean cloth for the detainees. The grey man's spoon had clanked against his empty bowl. Mal kept his eyes on his own plate, and tried to convince his stomach that it wanted the ricecake. *It's just that he's been staring at his plate for near half an hour. It's gonna get cold. It ain't no good cold.* *It ain't no good hot, either.* *Well?* *Well, what?* *Is he gonna to eat it?* *He eats slow. Mind your own business.* *Chur ni-duh.* The grey man slammed his spoon down and shoved away from the table. Mal didn't look up. He didn't eat, either. Five hours later, Mal was of a mind to wish he had, except every time he thought about the grey sauce, his hunger went away. Another hour passed, and another fifty meters of corridor. Then the first squad of guards came back, this time with twenty-odd prisoners in tow. They stopped downline from Mal. The sergeant pointed, indicating a space in the line. "There. You lot, fall in line there." The line voiced a low rumble of fury, directed as much at the new prisoners as at the guards. It didn't help that the new lot looked hot-washed and well-shod. "You got a problem? Move it down, make a hole!" The squad looked ready to add force to their scowls. The line made room. The guards stood, waiting, until all of the new lot was squeezed into the gap. Then they marched away, leaving the new prisoners behind. Mal tried to shut his ears to the glad-handing, bitching and uncomplimentary recommendations. "Sir, we're moving again." Rustling, thumps, footfalls, and the brief squall of the Eris troop, before the other one quieted her again. Zoe wasn't lying. "I'm not your boss anymore, Zoe. Quit saying that." "If you're not my boss, *sir*, then you got no call to be telling me what I can and can't do." She rose to her feet, a lurching roll that brought her into his personal space and then out again. A drift of unwashed woman followed her - sweat and stink, like the rest of them, but tempered with something less unpleasant. He kept telling himself that he was letting Zoe tag along because he knew she had nowhere else wanting her. And because she kept herself cleaner than any of the rest of the station's lost lambs. "Line's moving, sir." He came to his feet. He stayed with her because she'd be very angry if he went anywhere. Zoe's acid tongue was bad enough, but her silences burned a man to the bone. Nearly anything was better than that. Being alone was worse. The two men behind them were crowding Zoe again. One bent close, hand on Zoe's shoulder, mouth at her ear. Mal swung about, *slow, too slow,* the man had his other hand under her coat. Mal was fumbling with his duffle, aiming drop it so's to have both hands free. Then the man released Zoe and, with a touch to his partner, walked past them both. *Hey*, Mal meant to say, but the word never came out. "It's okay, sir, let them go." Zoe had her hand under her coat, and was staring after them brow wrinkled and mouth perplexed. "I'm okay, let them pass." Mal swung his duffle up and walked on, keeping Zoe in the corner of his eye. She kept her hand under the lapel of her coat. Five steps, and the two men had shoved their way up three places in line. When the line stopped, Mal kept half a meter between him and the man ahead. Zoe sat down right close, her eyes bright. "Look." Her hand came out from her coat, and in it was an apple. A molted, bruised thing, pale syrup leaking through a split in the side, brown under the green-red skin. Another moment and the smell of it hit him. Zoe already was digging into it with her fingers, even then unwilling to bite into the fruit whole. She passed the first chunk to him and Mal snatched the bit away. It was overripe, dry where it wasn't bruised, and on the verge of rotten. He swallowed that bit down, held out his hand for more. They ate it all in seconds, even the pip. Mal had the last of it, and looked at Zoe, his eyes following her fingers as she licked them clean. "I suppose I should be glad you're eating." He shrugged; resentful of the half she had eaten, guiltily aware that he would not have shared any such treasure. "Up to you. You got water on you?" "Not for you." Mal looked at her again. Sometimes Zoe said things like that playful. With a flat voice, and a face on the verge of smiling. Not this time. She looked back at him square, and Mal turned away. After a time he said, "Didn't ask you to stick around, Zoe." "I know. It ain't your say." He made fists of his hands, dug his nails into his palms. He could try to open a hole to the Black by beating his hands on the floor, and it would have as much effect as arguing words with Zoe. A sliding hiss of feet and words meant the line was moving again. Mal got to his feet by his own self, and slung his duffle on his back. One more thing to put between him and Zoe. Only eight steps this time. They all kept their feet for a little while, then slowly took their places again. Zoe didn't say anything. The line did not move again, not for a long time. Mal stared across the corridor at the blank wall until his eyes ached. Zoe folded her arms and put her head on her knees. "You should sleep, sir." "Shut up, Zoe. I sleep fine." "How long since the last time I told you, sir, that you're a lousy liar?" "Not long enough." But he kept his words quiet, because Zoe's voice was no more than what a man could call *peeved*, and he knew she was dozing, as tired as he was, because when the man in the next bunk woke up shaking and whimpering in the middle of the night, hour after hour, a woman didn't get much more rest than the man with the nightmares. Mal stared at the white wall until he was bored with hating it, then shifted his duffle around. He had just gotten comfortable when the Alliance troops came back. It was the squad with the conscientious lieutenant, and the Eris troops huddled closer together. They weren't the only ones surprised when a man shouted, "Hey, guard! Yeah, you! What the hell are you doing? We need tiedowns, all of us! You trying to kill us?" The voice belonged to one of three shaven-headed spacers, fifty meters back. Mal didn't know where they came from, or how they had ended up in a column of ground troops and mixed armor. In their barely scuffed flightsuits, the trio stood out like a black cow on an alkali flat against the tattered coats and mixed mufti of the surface troops. One of them stood up, tall and near-clean and with a slight gut. They all still had their gloves. Mal knew they hadn't been among the troops for more than a day. The lieutenant stepped forward, framed by the observatory window behind her. "You will maintain your place in line and you will keep the main thoroughfare clear. Failure to do so hampers the efforts of this station to process you as swiftly as humanly possible. I think none of you want to be on my station any longer than necessary." A security lieutenant no more owned the station than had deed to the stars behind her. Mal focused on that and tried to ignore anything else she said. The knot of spacers down the row had no intention of being ignored. "You're going to kill us all, Alliance murderers!" The look on the lieutenant's face said, *Don't I wish*, but she only tightened her lips and remained silent. "We need harnesses! We need tie downs! All of us - this corridor's a death trap!" An ugly murmuring spread towards Mal from the spacers. By appearances, the ground troops hadn't thought of that. Before this moment, that was. "You have no need for harnesses or hi-gee restraint!" "That bulkhead's half a klick off, damn your eyes!" "Four hundred and thirty meters, to be exact, perpendicular to this platform's line of thrust, which would make it perfectly safe, even if this vessel had the capability of generating that type of vectored acceleration. Which it does *not*" The muttering of the line was only growing louder, and the lieutenant raised her voice to cut over them. Mal could have told her to save her breath. This lot was beyond listening to logic. Or Alliance. Or orders. "We need harnesses!" "You do *not*. This is a docking facility, maintained in a synchronous orbit. We do not have acceleration capabilities." "You're going to murder us!" "We don't have harnesses for security personnel assigned, much less for seven thousand Independent troops. As you can see, neither myself nor my squad have hi-gee restraint gear - because it is not needed!" "We need -" The squad NCO stepped in, finally, and barked, "Shut it *down*!" at the spacer. His voice - and the rifle at port arms, jerked in a short, brutal threat - did what his officer's logic could not, and forced an end to the conversation. The lieutenant said, "Enough, move out," into the silence. The line was already moving forward as the Alliance soldiers marched away. When it stopped, the bandaged Eris woman started shouting again. "Shut that bitch up!" The thick-armed regular was back on his feet, shouting past the intervening bodies at the skinny kid. "You shut her down or I goram will!" "Go rut yourself, you *bun tyen-shung duh ee-dway-ro!*" the boy spat back. The woman was down now, and silent, huddled in the circle of the boy's arm. "Rut you, *go tsao de* twig-ass!" "No, rut you, you fat-bellied mother-rutter!" Fear was thick in the boy's voice, and even Mal could tell his mouth was running fast and far ahead of his brain. "How'd you get so fat? Chow down on the rest of your squad?" "You little father-rutting - " The other man was down the corridor in three fast strides. The Eris troop was slow to rise, slow to shake off the injured woman. The first blow hammered him back down to the floor. The reg's hand closed over the boy's throat like a docking claw - cold steel fastening with the inertia of a million kilos of ceramic frame, a grip an angel would envy. The boy cried out and pawed at the hand as his feet left the deck. The reg held the boy there for an instant, staring at the purpling face and then shook him - three fast, teeth rattling gyrations - before putting his whole body into throwing the boy against the bulkhead. The boy hit shoulder first, feet and skull following. The detainees against that portion of the wall scrambled out of the way, leaving an empty space to be filled by the boy's crumpled form. His head lolled back, eyes rolled so the whites showed clear against his swarthy face. "Cut that *gosah*!" "Shut it down!" "Purps gonna to shoot you, *nee mun doh shr sagwa*!" Warning shouts rippled from the altercation like waves from a stone. The reg ignored them. "Get up, you little slot, I'm going to beat your ass into the deck seam, so get - aaag!" The woman had no subtlety in her approach, and no visible technique. Her target's focus had allowed her one good swing. She wasted it, throwing herself at his back, flailing at his head, hands pattering on his back. She did not get a second chance. The reg's roar echoed down the corridor. Her shriek overlaid the end of the shout as his hand gripped the side of her face through the bandages. A jerk and the bandages ripped free, sending the woman to her knees and splattering pus three meters down the row. Cursing, the reg threw the fistful of rags to one side. The woman pressed both hands to her face, her screams filling the air. "Bitch!" The reg stepped in and kicked her in the stomach. The screams cut off in a damp sob. She lay there a moment, mouth gasping for air. When she struggled back to her knees, eyes staring through Mal, the reg kicked her again. The third time, he caught her in the face. The fourth splattered blood against the wall. "Guard! Guard!" The reg ignored the warning shouts and drew his leg back again. "Make a hole! Damn your eyes, make a hole!" The woman was twitching now, shuddering quivers of her hand as she reached out toward Mal, toward nothing, hand closing on air. The grimy boot made a sound like an ax into a steer's head, like a hundred pounds of viscera dropping onto the slaughterhouse floor. It tossed her over so that she lay face up, blood bubbling into froth at the ruin of her mouth and nose. And he kicked her again. The blood landed on Mal's face this time, and when he opened his eyes, the Alliance troopers were there. "Hands high! Hands high! Down on the floor!" The reg's face was locked on the woman as he kicked her again. There was a crunch this time. The boy screamed and reached for her, held back by another pair of reg troops, who forced him to the deck. The woman began thrashing. The Alliance squad had the man pinned before he could land another blow. It took three of them to secure the binders on him, with two more holding guns on the other prisoners and the lieutenant herself with a pistol aimed at the two men holding the boy. Mal watched the woman writhe on the floor beyond their boots, mouth a gaping cavern, one eye wide and sightless. The big reg went to his knees with a thud. The lieutenant stepped back to the woman, gun still steady, one hand at her lapel com. "Sector E-four, corridor 12. I need a medic. And another squad." She knelt, eyes flickering from the prisoners to the woman and back again. The woman was still. Mal couldn't see if the blood still flowed. One hand felt for a pulse, shifted position, felt again, fingers crimson to the second knuckle. "Rutting piss. Yee, get over here, start compressions. Darin, Oh, keep your positions." She slapped at the mike again. "I have a prisoner with contusions and without a pulse, I need that medic now." They worked over the woman - heart massage, ventilation, the officer's face damp with blood - until the medics arrived, and when the medics would have stopped, the officer made them keep going until a second team arrived with a long board. But Mal saw their faces as they left, and he saw the way the woman's body had fallen onto the board. The boy saw it too, and he wailed, an ugly, hitching sound. The others had released him, and he lay on the deck, grinding his face into the flooring, sobbing. "Shut up!" The officer stood, scarlet mouth pressed into a line. "Shut up. Get in line. Police up your belongings, maggots." She stepped over, kicked a duffle back against the wall. "Get in line." Her squad moved to back her up, weapons at the ready. Mal drew his feet in, kept a hand on his duffle. Someone pulled the boy back up against the wall, leaned him against his ruck. "Lawless animals, all of you, *tyen-sah duh uh-muo.*" Her glare was like jet wash, blistering heat, slamming against them, then gone. "Form up. Sergeant, let's go." The boy sat where he had been dropped, sobbing, his bloody face cradled in shaking hands. None of the other troops went to him, but the next woman down snarled a warning at one of the regular lunks when that man would have gotten to his feet. "You stay down. Keep that shit secured or I'll pack it for you." Two men, Banto Badgers by their patches, like the woman, shifted up onto their knees. The regular scowled, but folded himself back up against the wall. Eventually, the boy's sobbing slowed, became a series of hiccupping sighs. That too, stopped when the rest of the corridor went silent. The whole line watched as a new squad of guards marched up, a cleaning crew in their wake. The line watched, soundlessly, as the crew spread absorbent pads and disinfectant over the blood left behind. A series of sniffs and coughs as the stink of the cleaning spray spread through the air, but nothing more. When they had finished, and stripped off their stained gloves and bagged those along with the crumpled absorbing pads, the squad leader singled out the boy. "You. Yeah, you, with the bloody face." The boy looked up, numbness battling with terror on his face. The guard took another step forward. "You need a medic?" The boy stared, then shook his head. "I said, do you need a medic? Answer me!" "No, sir." A phlegmy voice. "You sure?" "Yes, sir." The guard looked up and down the line. "Anyone else here need medical attention?" The watching eyes stared back. "Move out." The patrol went around the corner, armor dark against the bright walls. >From up ahead the call came: "Move up, move up! Next twenty, move up!" The line rippled to its feet - the little man, the shave-headed scarface, Mal, Zoe. Down the line, the boy was clambering upright, the straps of his duffle passing through his fingers. It fell twice as Mal watched. The boy kept struggling with his battered fingers to drag two packs. The woman behind the boy stepped around him, kept going. Mal shouldered his duffle and faced forward, followed the scar-faced man around the corner. When they stopped, it was on the other side of a closed door, and the boy was not on their side of the hatch. An Alliance administration troop moved down the line, passing out cards. "Fill these out as the instructions describe, indicating your choice of destination. Come forward in order, single file. Your next stop will be a shuttle loading bay, prior to your departure for your destination. Note that you can only request the worlds listed here. Fill these out..." At Mal's back, Zoe let out a long sigh. "Hey," she said. "What?" "Look at me." A touch at his face, a tear and the faded scent of old disposable cleaning squares. Mal flinched away. "Stop it. I'm not bunking with a man with blood on his face." "Ain't none of us clean anymore, Zoe." "Not what I mean, sir. Hold still." She got at what she could, above his collar, then opened another, and scrubbed away the blackening smear on his hands. When she was done, he sat staring at the white card and the empty lines on the stiff paper, wishing he was back in the bright corridor, with something to hate. The End Story Notes: 5,800 words. Obvious debts to Veejane's "Cradle Elbows Wide". For Victoria P's Lyrics Challenge at http://www.livejournal.com/users/musesfool/572344.html. Tears have been shed, faith has been lost I've got my freedom but I don't have much time --"Wild Horses" by The Sundays "Troop" is used here as in modern US military practice: as a singular noun indicating a military member of either gender, regardless of branch of service, generally, but not exclusively, enlisted rather than commissioned. Persons who disagree with this definition may apply to the DoD, the Pentagon, with recommended alternate terms. Close observers may note differences between modern practices of guards in proximity to prisoners, and those depicted in this story. The author would like to assure those readers that she does indeed know better. ### The End ### From hosscheka at yahoo.com Sat Jan 7 11:03:54 2006 From: hosscheka at yahoo.com (hosscheka@yahoo.com) Date: Sat, 07 Jan 2006 11:03:54 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Mine Eyes Have Seen _R_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Mine Eyes Have Seen Author: hossgal Feedback: hosscheka at yahoo.com Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: R Genre: gen Characters: Malcolm, Zoe Summary: "We have done the impossible and that makes us *mighty*." Notes: Violence. Adult themes. Pre-series. Additional author notes at the end. With thanks to Florastuart, SEP, and Dagonlilytable for beta. All errors remain mine, but nothing else is. Characters and situations property of Mutant Enemy and Joss, that bastard. This story is available at the archive: [31k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/mineeyes.shtml From ximeria at popullus.net Fri Jan 6 19:01:19 2006 From: ximeria at popullus.net (ximeria@popullus.net) Date: Fri, 06 Jan 2006 19:01:19 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Take it Like a Man _NC-17_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Take it Like a Man Author: Ximeria Feedback: ximeria at popullus.net Author Website: http://ximeria.popullus.net Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: NC-17 Genre: *slash* Characters: Malcolm, Jayne Pairings: Mal/Jayne Summary: Slipping a hand down into his boxers, Jayne closed his eyes and tried to imagine what had been hidden under those skirts. Wasn't too hard. Hell, there was a reason why Kaylee had dubbed Mal Capt'n Tightpants. Notes: Spoilers for 'Our Mrs. Reynolds' This story is available on the web: [20k] http://www.ximeria.popullus.net/fanfic/ff-likeaman.htm From hosscheka at yahoo.com Sat Jan 7 16:55:35 2006 From: hosscheka at yahoo.com (hosscheka@yahoo.com) Date: Sat, 07 Jan 2006 16:55:35 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Mummies, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Mummies, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys Author: hossgal Feedback: hosscheka at yahoo.com Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Ensemble Summary: At least it wasn't zombies this time. Notes: Written for Shriftday 2005. Hattip to cofax for organizing the 'fest, and to the lovely lady herself, long may she snark. With obvious debts to the old masters of suspense, and to S. Morgenstern. This story is available at the archive: [10k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/mummiesdont.shtml From hosscheka at yahoo.com Sat Jan 7 16:55:37 2006 From: hosscheka at yahoo.com (hosscheka@yahoo.com) Date: Sat, 07 Jan 2006 16:55:37 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Mummies, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys (1/1) Message-ID: Mummies, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys by hossgal hosscheka at yahoo.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Sweat trickled down the back of Mal's neck. The darkness around him was thick and close, heavy with dust and the smell of old things. To all sides he could hear breathing, the sound tight and harsh and a match for his own. Like every eye in the room, his gaze was fixed on the huge creature before him. It was something out of the nightmares of a three-day smoke-binge - gray and ragged and moaning like the wind through a shattered window. Its face was featureless - two dark sunken pits for eyes, the rest blank and unreadable. Mal felt skewered on those sightless holes, unable to move. "Oh. My. God." Wash's voice trembled on the edge of hysteria. "What is that *thing*?" Beside him, he felt Zoe shift, drawing closer to her husband. "Quiet, now." Wash made a sound halfway between a giggle and a moan. Some thing was crunching off to Mal's right, where he had last seen River and the Sheppard. He hoped the old man had a firm grip on the girl - they didn't need her going crazy here. The creature lurched closer and raised its arms. They were blunt and deformed - gray and shapeless in the dim light, as tattered as the rest of it, like some legendary leper of Earth-that-was, losing skin and flesh and bones. It moaned again, a long, deep groan that made the hair on Mal's neck stand up. "Oh, god, Simon." Kaylee's whisper was half-muffled as though her face was pressed to the doctor's chest. Behind him, their feet shuffled, grating on the dust and old plaster on the floor. "Shut up, you two." Jayne growled. He was leaning forward, shoulders hunched. "Wait and see what it do-AAAGGG!" He broke off and sprang back as a snarling whirlwind of teeth and fur hurtled out of the darkness and leapt upon the creature. The thing spun around and fell under the impact, crying out in a terrible voice just as Jayne overbalanced his chair and fell over in a clatter of shattered pine, loose firearm and tall merc. Mal took his eyes off the battling monsters and reached down in the darkness for Jayne. "What are you doing? Quit rutting around!" "I'm okay, just leave me alone!" Jayne stood up, silver light playing across his face and torso. All about, a chorus of "Sit down!" "*Bizui!*" and "Be quiet!" rose, as well as a few more colorful suggestions. "Shut up yer own self, ya flat-headed *fang pi*!" "Don't get us thrown out of here, boy," Book said, a low voice from out of the darkness. Jayne crouched down and began dragging whatever was left of the chair into place. Meanwhile, the furry thing and the tattered creature lurched back and forth across the sheet hung at the far end of the storehouse. "Are you okay, Jayne?" Kaylee leaned forward, her breath stirring the hair on Mal's head. "'m fine." Another grunt, and Jayne settled down again beside Mal, his head a mite lower than it had been before. "Just took me by surprise, is all." "Didn't know it was your first time at the picture show, Jayne." Wash put in, the whispered words pitched to carry all the way across the room. "I'll show you pictures, little man -" "Shhhhhh!" "Shut up, both of you." Mal thought he would have to add muscle to the instruction, but the usher's light flashed across them then. Jayne grumbled under his breath, but subsided, and soon enough was lost again in the brawl flickering on the wall. *** Outside, the wind was brisk. Mal shrugged his collar up and tucked his hands in his pockets. The rest of the crew sorted themselves out of the press departing the tiny theater. Overhead, the theater sign read *Wolfman and the Mummy on the Moon of Castella* in white letters half a meter high. Wash and Zoe had their arms around each other's waists and were giggling into each other's ears like a couple of teenagers. Against them, Kaylee and Simon were solemn as a pair of nuns, hand fasted but barely looking at each other. Solemn, that is, until Kaylee touched a hand to her cheek and looked up. "Oh, snow!" She bent her head back and stuck her tongue out, dodging after the tiny snowflakes with her mouth hanging open. Mal stood there, refusing to smile at Simon as he followed after the little engineer, the doctor's protests lost in her laughing delight. Last of all, River and Book straggled out, arguing non-stop as they buttoned their coats and swung scarves around their necks, stopping every few feet to make another point. "A fine example of the unshakeable struggle of man to preserve his immortal soul!" Book was saying, shaking a gloved finger at River. The girl shot him a sidelong glance and then spoke at the darkness. "The Egyptian priests used instruments of ivory to remove the neural tissue. Modern solutions of fixed enzymes can selectively dissolve the cerebellum while leaving the pons intact, but not the reverse." Her eyes settled on Mal. "They kept their hearts in one jar and their livers in another. They crossed the River when they died, and went into the west." "Well, I hope they found a nice place to stay. Maybe we can go visit some time. But not today, cause we have a ship waiting for us south." He pointed. "Thataway. If all of ya'll could start wandering that way, I'd take it as a kindness. Kaylee! We are leaving!" An answering hail and a fresh spate of giggles was his answer. "Even if you're not on board, Kaylee! That means you two lovebirds, too." Wash looked hurt as Zoe untangled herself. "Yes, sir." "Yes, *sir*! Right away, *sir*!" Wash pulled himself up into a mockery of military attention, but lost it as quickly under the combined blistering stare of Mal and his wife. "Say, aren't we still short one?" Mal looked about. Right, no Jayne. Just as he was about to holler, the big merc came trotting out, a paper crumpled in his fist. "Keep yer pants on, I'm coming." "We were worried, Jayne. We thought maybe the monster got you again." Jayne, still struggling into his coat, looked up at this, frowning at Wash. Jayne had stuck the paper in his mouth as he fought with the horsehair blanket, and Mal didn't know how Wash kept from breaking into laughter at the sight. Or maybe he did know - Zoe's boot was pressing hard on Wash's foot. Jayne finally got the coat tugged down and took the paper from his mouth. "Wasn't no monster, you knuckle-head. Just a picture show." Kaylee bounded back up again just then, Simon still in tow. Mal seized the moment, before more words got exchanged and fists started getting into the market. "All here then? Good. We're leaving. Inara is gonna think we got suckered into some mess of trouble or another, and I don't fancy her coming to looking for us." "Awww, cap'n, you do too! Just imagine, she could come sweeping in, all spangley and shiny -" "And slinky, don't forget slinky," Wash put in. "And slinky, and rescue us all. Especially you." "Little Kaylee, you need your love life to get more complicated, so you don't got the time to be messing with mine? 'Cause sure as the Black is cold, I can lock your boy here in the spare shuttle for a month." "That won't be necessary, Captain." Simon set a hand on Kaylee's arm and tugged. He sounded as though he thought Mal was dead serious. Kaylee grinned at Mal like she knew he wasn't. "Get on, both of you, before I decide to go wolfman on you both." Simon tugged at Kaylee again, and they ran on down the road, ducking in and out of the streetlamps. Mal looked around, counting heads again, and found Jayne standing under one gaslight's uncertain glow with the paper in his hand. Mal could have sworn he saw Jayne's lips moving as he read. "Jayne. It's freezing. Are you coming along or what?" "I'm coming, I'm coming." But the big man still didn't move. "Jayne, what on earth have you got there?" "Piece a'paper. About the picture show." Drawn in despite himself, Mal stepped closer and craned his neck to look. There was a line of flat pics along one side - actors, Mal supposed - and beside the pics, tiny lines of print. "How can you read that? You're going to go blind, staring at that." He bumped Jayne with his shoulder. "Let's go." "Just a sec - ah-ha! Here it is! Mark Hu Krause! Dang, I knew I had seen him b'fore." "Mark who?" "The feller who was the wolfman. Krause." Jayne's voice sounded very perplexed. He flipped the paper over again, and then returned to the first side. "You don't sound too sure about that. You sure you got the right paper?" "Yeah, I'm sure - it's just I seen this Krause fella before." Now he was moving, if slowly. Mal resisted the urge to shove him along, fascinated, despite himself, with this glimpse of Jayne's mind at, well. Play. In a non-homicidal sort of way. "You saw him? In a picture house?" "Nah. Three-four years before the war, I had me a chunk of money and I went to one of them real playhouses. Where they dress up in costumes and everything. He was in a play - the one with the girl named Julie and his name was Roger-something. Romer." "Romeo?" "Yeah. That one. That was him. He wuz real good - all that singing and sword waving and all that. I even got to jaw with him a bit, after, at the bar." "Oh, yeah?" Mal tried to imagine the amount of money it would take to clean Jayne up enough to make him acceptable in a civilized theater. His imagination gave up when it got past a pile of gold high as his knees. Maybe it was a third rate theater. Or fourth. "Yeah." Jayne was still staring at the paper suspiciously. "Funny thing is, I didn't think was him, being the wolfman. This Krause was a dinky little feller, no bigger'n Kaylee. I was expectin' someone taller." "Ah. Well, he did look kinda big and scarifying when he jumped out like that." "Hey, you jumped, too, don't try an' tell me you didn't." "You breathe a word of it to anyone else and I'll dock your pay for a month. Come on, it's not getting any warmer." Jayne took one more look at the picture and folded it away. "Hey, Mal, where we going next, Aurora? You figure they got any picture houses there?" "Dunno. They might. You figure on going?" "Maybe. Ifin they ain't got any whorehouses." "Ah, yes. Priorities. Always have to remember the important things." "Well, I ain't never got thrown outta no whorehouse for being loud." ### The End ### From cpaigemcd at yahoo.com Mon Jan 9 13:02:51 2006 From: cpaigemcd at yahoo.com (cpaigemcd@yahoo.com) Date: Mon, 09 Jan 2006 13:02:51 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Pretty Fits Pretty Fits 3 _PG-13_ (1/1) Message-ID: Pretty Fits 3 by gypsylife cpaigemcd at yahoo.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Pretty Fits: Part 3 Jayne grinned and gave a little chuckle. Thayer hesitated for only a moment before regaining that haughty demeanor that grated on Mal's nerves. "I am a very busy man. I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific." "A girl. My mechanic got snatched today, and Jayne here says you just recently happened to make a similar acquisition. So hows about you take that pretty nose outta the air and tell me where she's at." "I'm afraid it's already out of my hands Captain Reynolds." Thayer looked at Mal coolly, ignoring the gun pointed now directly at his right eye. Jayne stood upright, alarmed. "What do you mean out of your hands?" Mal probed. ********* Thayer, now tied to a chair, tried to ignore Jayne sitting comfortably, directly across from him staring holes right into him. Zoe, Wash, Book and Mal all stood in the room having tied the still unconscious men up and piled them up in a corner. "Sir?" Zoe always had a way of making that one word mean dozens of things, sometimes even simultaneously, but right now it just meant one thing. How do you wanna go about this. "Thayer said that transport is due to leave in bout an hours time, We're going back to Serenity so we can pick up a few necessities and then we're gonna go get Kaylee. Book," Book inched closer to Mal, more than willing to do anything to help out Kaylee. "I need you to stay here and keep an eye on Thayer. Don't want him messin' up our little adventure." "Mal, I think I might be of some use to you." Book leveled Mal with one look and Mal considered the possibility but shook his head. He pointedly looked at Thayer and said, "S'man is a whole heap of trouble, preacher. We got a little out of him, but I`d still like to be knowledgeable about why. I'd take a bit of ease out of the fact knowin' you was here with him, maybe you can get that little tidbit for us." Book slowly nodded in agreement. Mal led the way out of the building, Zoe and Jayne close on his heels. ********* Simon squatted in front of River in the Cargo bay while Inara just barely paced not five feet from them. "Had one already." River said matter-of-factly. "Non-compulsory necessity for an additional. Men lining the walls and streets with sweat and tears." Her brother stood and looked down on her with such concern before his mind focused in on their mechanic. Simon couldn't bear to think of where Kaylee must be. All that was important was that she return to the ship and that was inevitable because the others were retrieving her this very second...inevitable, right? Simon doubted his own self-assurance before quickly squelching his disbelief. He couldn't allow himself to get emotional about this. Logic and judgment and facts; these were all things that had held him together thus far in life. And. presently, the fact at hand was that Mal was not going to come back aboard Serenity without Kaylee. `Please come back Mal.' Simon thought without restraint. If Inara had mentally berated herself once in the past few hours, she had done it dozens of times. It never once entered into her mind that if she had stayed with Kaylee she herself may have been harmed. Being well educated, cultured and refined was a significant part of Inara Serra. Albeit, that's certainly not all of who she is. Inara possessed an innate kind of confidence that came with more than just companion training. She rarely worried for herself, however, no vessel could contain all the worry emanating from her on this day. Just then Mal, Zoe and Jayne came quickly up the ramp and into the cargo bay. Without Kaylee, Simon registered and his confusion was palpably painted on his face . Mal gathered weapons from the cargo bay while Jayne went to go fetch Vera and Zoe paid a visit to her own reserve. "Mal-" Inara started but Mal cut her off by saying, "Don't have time to explain just yet. Might know exactly where she's at. Came to gather up some gear and Kaylee will be back onboard `fore long." Inara noticed that by the tone in Mal's voice, he wasn't up to any questions or suggestions so, pushing her fears back down her throat she offered her help. To which Mal simply looked at her guardedly and said, "No, we got this. Wash you have her ready to fly soon as we get back." The three of them, Mal in the center, Zoe on his right and Jayne on his left, marched off of Serenity`s ramp, guns in tow. Mal said quietly to himself, "We won't be long." ********* Kaylee drifted in and out of consciousness, now numb to the cold the majority of the time. The blood coming from her head was slowed and begun to dry and harden on her face. Her mind was somewhat quieted now, because of her physical state. The few thoughts she did have ranged from that of her family back home and her family on Serenity. She remembered her pa's gentle and care worn face and smiled. He was the most important man in her life for so many years, and then she met Mal. Mal brought her on the ship and made her part of his family, whether he cared to admit it or not. And then there was Simon. She had never labored for a guys attention the way she fought for Simon's. Contemplating the time on Canton and then dead Bessie, Kaylee came to the swift decision that if she made it out of this she was going to be more patient with Simon and not flee like she had the tendency to do. Kaylee's subconscious musings were interrupted by the door sliding open and that horrible bright light intruding in the dark space. Kaylee tried to force her eyes open, but for some reason her body wouldn't comply. As Kaylee lay there drifting back out of consciousness her less than hospitable captive came and lightly nudged her with his boot. All that generated from Kaylee was a groan. "Come on, git. Time to go." When he couldn't get her to rise on her own, he reached down and roughly grabbed her by the arms, hauling her up brutally. At the sudden rush to her head Kaylee went completely limp as she fainted. "Ai ya, girl." he grunted as he bent and shoved her over his shoulder. No sooner had he taken two steps than three people burst through the door, rushing him. Mal, Zoe and Jayne adeptly came in, guns drawn, and all moved to surround the man holding Kaylee. At the sight of Kaylee unconscious and slung over this guys' shoulder scared Mal more than he'd like to concede to himself. He quickly swallowed that feeling and said just one word, "Jayne." Jayne moved to take Kaylee from the man and said, "Cap she's hurt pretty bad." as he cradled her tiny frame in his arms. Mal clenched his jaw and his nostrils flared as her reared his gun hand back to pistol whip the man, but before he could get the chance Zoe came up and fiercely knocked the man out cold and on the floor in one punch. Mal blinked. "I was gonna do that." he wined. "Sorry, sir." Zoe didn't sound in the least apologetic. "Couldn't help myself." ******** As the entourage rushed back up the ramp wheels were set into motion. Simon instantly morphed into doctor mode assessing Kaylee's condition. Mal hovered in the infirmary, while Zoe stood completely still gripping Wash's hand which rested on her shoulder just outside. River sat curled up on the stairs beside Jayne who stood leaning against the railings. Inara stayed as close to Kaylee as she could without getting in the doctor's way. "She gonna be alright?" The amount of emotion in Jayne's voice as he appeared in the doorway caused Mal to do a double take. "I'm not certain. The trauma to her head and the blood loss alone are severe." Simon opened his mouth to say something else, but then seemed to think better of it. He bent over her and tried to focus on each task at hand. "Jayne." Mal called to him and Jayne walked over to him, leaning close. "Go fetch the shepherd. And be quick about it. I want off this rock." Jayne nodded and moved from the doorway. One single tear rolled down Inara`s face and Mal moved slightly behind and beside her, placing his hand on the small of her back. Simon continued to work unaware of anything except his patient and his hands. ******** Jayne entered the tiny musky back room of the bar and quickly took in his surroundings. Shepherd Book knelt leaning closely over Thayer whose body was now prostrate on the ground. He made a face, both confounded and questioning at the same time. "Well now preacher, I always figured you for women folk." After one of those 'feel the other person out' kind of silences, Book stood and went to where Jayne was standing. "Kaylee?" Book possessed a way of just calming you with his voice, but right now Jayne wasn't too taken with the idea o' bein' calm around this man. Jayne just nodded his head, "Hurt, though. Doc's workin' on her right now. Mal sent me to fetch you. You happen to get a why outta him, preacher?" Book shook his head and waited for it. "Then what in tarnation is he doin' on the floor?" Jayne cocked his head expectantly. "Tried to escape." Book spoke softly and Jayne knew something was up. "Hummh. That so?" "It is." then after a moment, Book said a little too sharply for Jayne's liking, "I think we might outta get back to Serenity and off this moon. Now." ******** Simon walked out of the infirmary drying his hands on a pristine white hand towel. All the occupants of the room stood and look at him expectantly. "The trauma to her head is quite serious. She's unstable and we're going to have to keep a constant watch over her. She'll need her vitals to be checked every fifteen minutes among other things. The ICP caused by the cerebral edema is going-" Jayne cut him off with, "The IC-what?" Simon took a breath and started over. "Intracranial Pressure. The trauma to her brain has caused brain swelling, which in turn has caused excessive pressure to build up where it shouldn`t." he took a deep breath which turned into a sigh. Mal questioned, "Can you control the swelling? Make it go down?" "It's hard to say. I can administer drugs to keep it from swelling further, but...but if it doesn't go down on it's own..." his voice trailed off. Inara took a step forward. "What happens if it doesn't go down?" Simon hesitated and then said very quietly, "She'll die." Everyone in the room went speechless and the silence hung heavily in the air. ********* "Preacher, I believe you got a tale that needs accountn'." Mal's brows rose and he crossed his arms across his chest. Mal and Book stood just inside the cargo bay doors, set apart from the others who were hovering over the infirmary. "Not altogether sure what you mean, Captain." "What I'm meaning, Shepherd is that Jayne tells me that he found Thayer getting' awful acquainted with the floor when he went to git you. I'd love a little narrative 'bout that." Shepherd Book licked his lips and swallowed before looking directly into Mal's eyes. "I think we might outta want to wait a spell 'fore we start dissecting this particular situation." Book made sure that his voice was laced with intonations of `trust me'. Mal cocked his head to side as he asked, "Why would that be?" "Because they weren't after Kaylee." "Shah muh?" Mal's arms fell down of their own accord. "I think it best for now, if we concentrate on Kaylee and getting her better." Mal opened his mouth to speak, but Simon poked his torso through the doorway. "Captain." Mal nodded to Simon and turned back to Book. "We ain't finished." Simon looked up at Mal from Kaylee's side as he entered the infirmary. Mal watched Simon expectantly. "Her condition is going to require around the clock observation." "You said that before, Doc." "Yes, but what I didn't say was that if she wakes up-" "When. When she wakes up." Mal said curtly. Simon swallowed "Yes, yes. Of course. When she wakes up we have no way of knowing how she'll react to her situation. Victims of head trauma often are very disoriented and confused. Everyone will need to allow her to adjust slowly. Also, since we don't know what she experienced before she lost consciousness," Simon said that last bit more like a question. "she may be in an anxious and possibly even hysterical state. I'd like to be with her as much as possible." Mal gave an affirmative nod and said, "Wouldn't `spect you to do different." Simon just looked at Mal, but Mal couldn't read what was in his face. "There something' you not telling' me, doctor?" "I just...with a head wound, it's difficult...I can't do much, to-" Simon gave a helpless little sigh and then stood himself back up to full height, pushing his emotions back down. There was a moment of understanding and cohesion between the two men that left them both a little more comfortable with the other. ********* Simon was looking over some of Kaylee's test results, hoping to find something he could work with, when he heard her. "Simon." Her voice was so weak it nearly broke his heart. He turned to her and all doctor thoughts went out the window. Even when examining his sister, Simon knew that there was something to be said for emotional detachment, but his brain and heart were certainly not connected at the moment. "Kaylee? Kaylee can you hear me?" He bent over her, one hand stroking her forehead and hair while the other held her hand. Her eyes still closed she moved her head back and forth as if she were trying to force herself awake. "Simon...Simon...don't leave...please" "I'm not going anywhere Kaylee. I'm right here." At the sound of his voice, Kaylee struggled to open her eyes and saw a very blurry Simon, but it was nonetheless, Simon. She smiled very faintly and looked at him. "Hey, you." "Hey, you too." Simon's smile was so broad Kaylee thought she was dreaming. "Missed you." he said. Kaylee smiled a little bit more and started to close her eyes again. "No, no, Kaylee. Kaylee? You have to stay with me. Stay with me Kaylee. You can't leave me." Kaylee opened her eyes wider and looked at him with a little more coherency. "Aw, silly, I'm not leavin' you. I love you." Simon's smile fell off of his face as he considered what she was saying. And then without hesitation he said, "I love you, too Kaylee." She smiled broadly and then her whole frame went alarmingly rigid and her eyes rolled back into her head. *********** What will happen to Kaylee???? To be continured.... If you have any questions or would like to talk about the fic feel free to email me at cpaigemcd at yahoo.com ### The End ### From cpaigemcd at yahoo.com Mon Jan 9 13:02:51 2006 From: cpaigemcd at yahoo.com (cpaigemcd@yahoo.com) Date: Mon, 09 Jan 2006 13:02:51 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Pretty Fits Pretty Fits 3 _PG-13_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Pretty Fits 3 Series: Pretty Fits Author: gypsylife Feedback: cpaigemcd at yahoo.com Status: NEW - Work-In-Progress Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Malcolm, Zoe, Wash, Kaylee, Jayne, Simon, River, Book Pairings: All cannon Summary: Will Kaylee wake up? Some secrets are revealed.and some aren'tyet. Notes: Language.I have a lot planned for this fic so let me know if you have questions or are confused about anything. Please comment.I can't know how I'm doing unless you do. Thanks. This story is available at the archive: [14k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/prettyfits2.shtml From noveau360 at hotmail.com Tue Jan 10 14:42:10 2006 From: noveau360 at hotmail.com (noveau360@hotmail.com) Date: Tue, 10 Jan 2006 14:42:10 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] The Way He Smiles _PG-13_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: The Way He Smiles Author: strvingartist Feedback: noveau360 at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG-13 Genre: *slash* Characters: Malcolm, Kaylee, Simon Pairings: Mal/Simon Summary: Set during and after Jaynestown. A little Simon and Mal love. From noveau360 at hotmail.com Tue Jan 10 14:42:10 2006 From: noveau360 at hotmail.com (noveau360@hotmail.com) Date: Tue, 10 Jan 2006 14:42:10 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] The Way He Smiles _PG-13_ (1/1) Message-ID: The Way He Smiles by strvingartist noveau360 at hotmail.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Disclaimer: Not mine! Notes: There isn't enough Simon/Mal out on the Internet and after watching Jaynestown on DVD I decided to put some more out there. I'm working on writing Mal write, he's surprisingly tricky. So set during and after Jaynestown. Please Review. Constructive Criticism is always appreciated. REVIEW! Simon smiled through bleary eyes at Kaylee, words were coming out of his mouth but he wasn't sure who was saying them. He was pretty sure she liked what ever it was he was saying because she kept smiling an awful lot. Smiles, Mal had a nice smile, Simon really liked it when Mal smiled at him right after he pulled out of him. It was a slow smile usually followed by a kiss. Then Mal would roll over and fall asleep for a bit. Yeah, Simon really liked that smile. Trying not to burp Simon opened his mouth and the words kept spilling out. "Nothing. Just that you're pretty...Even when you're covered with engine grease, you're," Simon paused and waved a hand pointing at Kaylees nose. "maybe 'specially when you re covered with engine grease, you're..." At that point Mal stepped over planting his hands squarely on Kaylee and Simon's shoulders. Simon could only grin and take another drip from his cup. Which kept emptying itself, it was a tricky cup and obviously it was drinking itself. Kaylee gave Mal a forced smile and leaned up towards him. "It's time to get out of this nuthouse. Got some plannin' to work out." Mal nodded at Kaylee and then looked down at Simon. The boy was gonna be in some fierce pain come the next day if he kept knocking them back like that. Mal gripped his hand a little tighter on the back of Simons seat; he held it there keeping back the urge to run his hand through Simon's hair. Simon had great hair as soft and shiny as it looked, it felt. Kaylee gave Mal an even more forced smile her eyes darting back and forth between Mal and Simon. "Now, Captain?! But things are going so well!" Kaylee put a lot of emphasis on the word well, forcing her eyes open hoping the big oaf would get the hint. She didn't get many opportunities with the doctor and this was one too good to pass up. Mal shrugged a little not quite noticing Kaylee's oh so subtle hints. His mind kept wandering back to Simon's hair and places where Simon had had his head. And most importantly what it felt like when Simon's hair brushed against his hip...Mal cut himself off and nodded down at Kaylee, "Um. I suppose, Jayne's certainly feelin' better bout life. But we..." Kaylee cut him off emphatically shaking her head she put a sharper tone in her voice and leaned closer to Mal. "I said things were goin' well!" She put even more emphasis on well, hoping to get her point through Mal's thick skull. Mal nodded slowly looking down at Simon. Very dark thoughts raced through his head, what was the gorrum doctor up to now. Apparently, Mal wasn't enough to satisfy a man probably used to having people throw themselves at his ruttin feet. Nodding Mal made a hard face, "Oh. 'Well'. Well... I tell you what. Jayne's stuck here with his adoring masses, how about you and Simon hang around, keep an eye on him for me?" Kaylee nodded excitedly as Mal stomped off. Simon merely rolled his head back raising his glass in a toast and watching Mal's ass as he walked away. It was a real nice ass, muscled and hard. Simon bit his lower lip and turned back to Kaylee grinning. It wasn't long before the room was spinning and Simon was completely incapable of conversation. Kaylee was giggling and kept babbling but Simon couldn't focus. He tugged at his shirt buttons and vest feeling too hot. The last thing he saw before blanking out was Kaylee giggling and blushing at his exposed chest. When Mal found them the next day they hadn't moved that far. He stared down at the pair anger slowly rising up in his belly. His Simon, his little lily-white doctor boy was laying with Kaylee on top of him and her hand in his shirt. Not a jealous man by nature, or at least that's what he claimed Mal drew a deep breath and summoned up the strength not to choke Simon. Or fuck him in front of Kaylee. Leaning forward Mal smiled down at Kaylee as she slowly lifted her head smiling softly. In a dreamy sort of voice she greeted him before the exact nature of her position kicked in. Sitting up quickly Kaylee blushed and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Captain!!" Hearing the word captain Simon shot up. He slowly turned his head and stared at Mal. And Mal stared right back with anger and hurt in his eyes. Simon fidgeted with his shirt looking back and forth between Kaylee and Mal. "Wha--? Kay--? - Mal! Mal, I-uh..." Simon detangled himself from Kaylee blushing. He didn't know what to say. Mal was definitely not pleased; he had that look in his eye. The one he got right before he punched something. Simon gulped and tried to explain himself, "Captain, nothing happened-- There was some drinking, but.. We certainly didn't.. I mean, I would never-.. notwith Kaylee, I.. I assure you, nothing inappropriate took place.." Simon struggled for the right words but only seemed to dig himself deeper and deeper. Kaylee now added her glare to Mals and Simon could feel himself shrinking. Looking back and forth between the two he sighed and a little part of him gave up. He was royally screwed, now would definitely be an appropriate time to curse. Maybe an appropriate time to grab his lover?boyfriend? whatever, Mal and kiss him hard to prove he was still loyal. He doubted that would go over well with Mal or Kaylee. Mal would probably punch him and never speak to him again, and then Kaylee would punch him and never speak to him again. By the time it was all over with somehow Simon found himself standing alone in the bar as Kaylee, Jayne and Mal walked off. It had hurt the worst when Mal had left. The man had merely turned back and shrugged at Simon. Sighing Simon collapsed into a chair and turned to the bartender. He asked for a menu on the off chance he might get one and simply because he didn't know what else to do. The day of course only went from bad to worse, by the end of it he found himself being beaten, cut, and nearly killed. Sitting in the infirmary Simon stuck a couple of bandages to the cut on his face. His arm had been wrapped up as had his ribs. They were bruised, not broken but would take some time to heal. Reaching for the dopamine he went to shoot himself in the arms. Big callused hands stopped him and soulful blue eyes stared down into his. "Now Doc, look you gone and got your lily-white skin all beat up. You need to be more careful." Mal rubbed a thumb slowly over Simon's cheek staring down into the other mans eyes. Carefully he bent down and pressed a kiss over the cut. Simon opened his mouth to talk hoping to explain and Mal just shook his head. "Whatever it was, is in the past." Mal smiled softly and rubbed his thumb in slow even circles under Simon's cuts. "No why did you have to go and be so gorrum stupid and let that guy beat you sideways?" Simon still in shock shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know, I guess I'm just not a big mean army veteran who can beat up horribly scarred guys with giant beards. Nor am I like Jayne where my smell alone could take out one horribly scarred guy with a beard." Mal laughed softly and rubbed a hand over Simon's shoulder. "Well I don't know if I'd fancy you smelling like Jayne or being an army vet but it would come in handy if you could look after yourself. I can't always protect you ya know." Mal sat down on the infirmary bench and leaned closer to Simon their foreheads practically touching. Simon smiled slightly and shrugged his shoulders a bit. "Well I seem to remember you backing down pretty quick in the face of said scarred man so maybe I should learn to protect myself." "Now see here," Mal raised his hand to object but Simon leaned forward quickly kissing him on the mouth. He moved his lips slowly against Mals and smiled into the kissed. Mal let his hand drop slightly then lifted it up sliding it into Simon's hair. He gripped those soft silky strands and moved his lips gently against Simon's. Acutely aware that Simon was still injured. When they broke the kiss Simon pulled back smiling, Mal had a funny little twinkle in his eye as he rubbed his thumb over Simon's lip. "Now Doctor I believe you were trying to distract me just now." Simon smirked a little and licked his bottom lip. "Why Captain, I wasn't doing anything of the sort. I was merely caught up in the moment, in the heat of the passion." Simon fluttered his eyelashes trying to look coy. Mal laughed softly and rubbed a hand slowly over Simon's cheek. "Well why don't we go get caught up in the heat of the passion moment in somewhere a little bit more private." Mal grinned and leaned towards Simon kissing softly at the other mans neck. Simon smirked and slowly pushed Mal away. "I would but I think I'm a little too beat on for that sort of thing. So if you would excuse me I am going to dope myself and then go sleep these bruises off." Simon picked up the syringe and smiled down at Mal. Mal's lips moved up and down but no sound came out of them. He stared at Simon a little shocked; he thought he was going to be spending the evening with nakedness. Things were not going as he planned one bit. "Come on now Simon, can't be that bad, I promise I'll be real gentle." Letting his hand slide up and down Simon's thigh Mal stared up at Simon plaintively. Simon merely smirked and moved out of Mals hands. "Sorry Mal. But this is going to be a private thing." Simon walked out of the infirmary swinging his hips a little. He was proud of himself. He had resisted the six foot plus, two hundred some pounds roughly, hard, gorgeous thing that was Malcolm Reynolds. Opening up his cabin door he went to move in but found himself being grabbed about the waist and pulled down. Mal smirked at Simon and kicked the screen closed his hands wrapped tightly around the other one's waist. "Well, I can't say I was ever one for crashing parties. So I think you extend me an invitation." Mal smiled down at Simon and leaned down kissing the other man slowly and softly. Simon leaned up as every time he thought Mal was going to make the kiss harder, more seductive, he just pulled away and made it that much more teasing. Somehow though when Simon hadn't been paying attention Mal gave him the shot. The quick twinge was all he felt before the drugs started to seep into his system. Mal lay Simon down on the bed and stroked his hair slowly back out of his eyes. Smiling softly Mal threaded his fingers through Simon's hair, "And as much as I'd like to make this a party you do got a point." Mal pressed a kiss to Simon's forehead. "Relax doc, I'll stay here and make sure no one eyed scarred guys come and beat you up in your sleep." Simon gave Mal a dreamy sort of smile as he slipped off into slumber. The last thing that flashed before Simon's eyes before he passed out was that smile. Oh yeah, did Simon love that smile. The End. , ### The End ### From wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Mon Jan 9 22:14:00 2006 From: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au (wily_one24@yahoo.com.au) Date: Mon, 09 Jan 2006 22:14:00 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Pieces Pieces: the third quarter. _R_ (0/3) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Pieces: the third quarter. Series: Pieces Author: Jacqui Feedback: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Status: NEW - Series Rating: R Genre: het Characters: Malcolm, Zoe, Kaylee, Inara, Jayne, Simon, River Pairings: Jayne/Kaylee Summary: Sometimes pieces fit, sometimes they dont and sometimes they can't be put back together. Sequel to: Pieces: the second quarter. This story is available at the archive: [64k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/piecesthe2.shtml From wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Mon Jan 9 22:14:00 2006 From: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au (wily_one24@yahoo.com.au) Date: Mon, 09 Jan 2006 22:14:00 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Pieces Pieces: the third quarter. _R_ (1/3) Message-ID: Pieces: the third quarter. by Jacqui wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Disclaimer: All hail the mighty Joss. I don't own 'em and I sure don't make any money off them. Feedback: Oh, gods, YES!!! Comment here or email: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Comments: Written for the Joss100 challenge. 75 down, 25 to go. *** Prompt #051: Destruction. Word Count: 196. SAYING GOODBYE. "I can't watch." "You want this or not?" Kaylee sighed. "Last chance to say no." She couldn't help it, his bottom lip just pouted out and it was too tempting not to reach out and touch it. Soft, soft lip, surrounded by thick, bristly whiskers. He kept his eyes screwed shut. "Do it." But he was already wincing and she hadn't even begun yet. "I said so, didn't I? Just... I can't watch." "Okay then. Here goes." She reached her hand out. "Wait!" "Come on, Jayne." She sighed. "This was your idea. Yay or nay?" "Um..." For a second he sounded as if he might change his mind and she kinda expected him to. "Okay, I'm ready, I can take it. Go on." "We don't have to do it, you know." "Yeah." He opened his eyes and smiled at her, just about melting her heart. "We do." Then he clamped them shut again. "One." She reached out and he didn't move. "Two." She hooked her fingers behind it. He still didn't move. "Three!" The paper ripped easily as she tore it from the wall and soon his bunk was littered with scraps of half naked ladies. *** Prompt #052: Apocalypse. Word Count: 230. GLASS. "Oh god. Oh god." Kaylee pressed herself into the corner. "We're going to die here." "It probably won't come to that, mei mei." Inara reached out and pulled a table off balance to cover them both. "But just in case." A loud thump was heard and they both looked up to the right to see a man land against the wall and slide down it, groaning and bloody. There was a lot of yelling and screaming and Kaylee couldn't decipher whose was whose. She pointed to an inert form lying across the room. "That poor man. He didn't do nothin'. Just said hello." Inara smiled. "Kaylee." She said softly, as softly as she could in the melee. "There's 'hello' and then there's 'hello'. Jayne's reaction may have been... excessive, but it wasn't unfounded." A shower of glass rained down on top of them. "But I wasn't gonna do nothin'!" "You didn't have to." Inara sighed as she picked a shard from her hair. "Point is, Jayne told him to move on and he didn't." "Hey." Mal's head appeared over the table. "You girls okay back there?" "Just fine." Inara answered breezily. "Dandy as a matter of fact." "Good, that's goo..." And then he was gone, dragged back into the fight. "Stupid men." Kaylee grumbled. "An' we was having so much fun." Inara smiled again. "Get used to it, mei mei." *** Prompt #053: Faded. Word Count: 411. BUTTERFLIES. "Hey." He slid his hand over her waist and down to her rump. "What'cha doin'?" "Nothin'." She sighed back. It didn't look like nothing to Jayne. A person didn't stand in front of the door to their bunk and just stare at it for no good reason. 'Course, strictly speaking, she wasn't doing much of anything else. "You stopped on your way in or your way out?" He pulled her closer to him, hip to hip. "Or don't you remember?" That earned a smile. "I was just thinking." And her eyed drifted up to the nameplate on her door before falling away again. "So many things've changed lately." Yeah, he couldn't argue that. He just wondered which lately she was talking about. Was she thinking on Wash and Book and the whole business with Miranda, or after that, with Simon? Or just in general? Either way, his eyes traced the color of her name, the butterflies and flowers and leaves that decorated it. He remembered when he first came on board and saw it, thought maybe she was a bit simple. A grown woman who still had kids' paintings on her walls. Didn't take him long, not long at all, to realize that it was one of things that made her so special. The way she took delight in every little thing, even and especially the little things. Little touches that spread all over the ship and made it more than that, made it livable, made it like a home. He'd spent more than enough time thinking over this very piece of wood, imagining that the sunlight and butterflies and all that other girly stuff was exactly what she'd been surrounded by as a kid. Only, back then, the colors had stood out more, had all but screamed at a man when he left his bunk across the hall. Now he realized that some of the letters of her name had seen better days and the vines were kinda broken up unless you squinted and made your eyes blurry. Jayne reached out to run his hand over the wood and surprised even himself by hooking his fingers under it and lifting it off the door. "Guess this needs to be spruced up a little, hey?" Something flickered over her face and he placed his free hand under her chin so that she looked up at him. "You leave it to me, okay? I got something that'll make it brand new again." *** Prompt #054: Colorless. Word Count: 454. PINK AND WHITE. "Quit it." Kaylee smiled to herself, a wicked kind of smile that usually drove him crazy. She figured she had five good minutes before his temper broke or he threw the cloth and holster down and picked her up. She kinda hoped it would be the second one. Slipping her hand under his arm, her fingers found the soft, sensitive skin of his stomach and she drew lazy circles on his skin. Her eyes followed the small, miniscule bumps she left behind and that alone told her it would most likely be the second option. "C'mon, quit it." He grumbled again. "I gotta do this, you know that. We're out on a job again first thing." It wasn't like she could help herself. He was just too beautiful not to explore. Not that it could, technically, be called exploring anymore. It was more like covering old ground by now. Still, she wasn't about to stop. Kaylee lay on her back on his bed, one arm up under her head as she watched him sitting there, cleaning his weapons and various accoutrements. She liked watching him do it, liked watching his big hands as they skillfully twisted and turned the proper switches and dials of the guns, deftly swiped the blades of his knives, the knowing way he handled his belongings. Sometimes she liked it a little too much. And sometimes she got a mite bored. Like now, when her hand continued to wander. A grin spread over her face as she traced her fingernail around his nipple, letting the nail scrape lightly over the flesh. His mouth twitched. He knew what was coming, he had to. She'd done it often enough. Waited until the small, dusky pink of it hardened under her fingers, waited until the skin around it puckered and grew taut. Then she took it between her thumb and forefinger, squeezing and pulling at the same time. The pink flooded out of the tip, even as she watched, the color was bled away and he groaned a little. Kaylee kept her eyes focused on her task as she let go to see the small white mound of it contrasted against the bronze of the rest of him. Quickly, all too quickly, the color returned, blood flowing back to the spaces she'd left behind. She couldn't be certain, but Kaylee was fairly sure that he hurried through the rest of his weapons care more than he'd usually like. More than was strictly called for. Not that it mattered when he turned with a growl to snarl down at her and she blinked lazily up at him. That was usually all it took, that half hooded gaze and a waiting smile on her face. *** Prompt #055: Colorful. Word Count: 470. RAINBOW. He loved the way it seemed to start at her mouth. Big and swollen and slick after he kissed them, bright red and flushed as she panted up at him. The color sliding over her cheeks and down her neck. His eyes would follow the path of it, the flush that spread all down her face and neck, over her shoulders and between her breasts as he leaned down and nuzzled her here, there and everywhere. Red paths and, if he hadn't shaved, the small scratches that burned red hot until his tongue soothed them, wet mouth hungrily sucking at the salt that edged her skin. Jayne could drown in the way her eyes would darken, her pupils going real wide as he knelt over her and she gasped. The specks in them would shift from blue to green to hazel and back again until he couldn't quite remember what color her eyes really were. She blushed all the way down her body, the curves of her belly and hips turning pink as he made his way down, his hands coming around to cup her ass and grip her thighs. Even the soft silk of her inner thighs grew hot against his own skin, heated by the swift brushes of his fingers, the gentle touches that quickly grew faster and harder and more desperate until, sometimes, he thought he might bruise her. Kaylee's skin was resilient against any and all forms of abuse she suffered at the merciless hands of the engine, but when he planted his mouth on her soft underbelly and sucked hard, he always left the most fascinating colors. Purples and greens and dark blues that faded over days and days. All of it, the pinks and flushes that raced over the hills and valleys of her body, that his eyes drank in when he crawled down her skin, none of it ever reached the slick wetness of her. The point where the colors blurred and all that matters was the way she moaned out his name as he pumped his fingers in and out, slow and grinding at first until her breathing grew deep and needy and he knew to speed it up. Felt in the twist of her hips under him, in the push of her body up to meet him, in the tremble of her, the slow, needy keen of her voice. Then he'd retrace his steps, kissing her red and flushed skin all the way back up as she clawed at him, as her hands grasped his shoulders and pulled him back up. Just so his eyes could meet hers as he pushed into her again, ground his hips down, hard. All fast and hard and red hot need and the two of them moaning it out as hard as they knew how. *** Prompt #056: Black. Word Count: 787. CHECKER BOARD. There were three people left on board and the ship stretched out into an infinity of space between them. The planet wasn't safe, Captain had said, they were too well known and Serenity stuck out like a sore thumb. So he'd taken Zoe and Jayne on one shuttle and Inara was already off to see a client in hers. And Kaylee was left floating just outside atmo, staring out the window into the great expanse of black nothingness, trying to make sense out of the maze of stars. Sense, perhaps, or just a form of distraction. Something to stop her worrying about Jayne, 'cause her worry took her to places she didn't like. Didn't want to think on. Places where he wouldn't, couldn't come back from. "Too dangerous." She grumped, 'cause stubborn anger was easier than fretting uselessly. "Yeah, too gorram dangerous. That's why they left their greatest weapon here." Her voice sounded mean, even to her, but she wasn't too worried. The meaning behind the words wasn't, not spiteful mean, anyway. And the meaning always got through. "There's danger in recognition, still." River sighed from her pilot's chair across the terminal. "I'd be more hindrance than help." There was a wistful note to River's voice and a coiled nervousness in the way she tapped her fingernails on the console that made Kaylee wonder whether or not she liked the more dangerous jobs. River was like that, sometimes, simple as black and white, just like Jayne. 'Cause, sometimes, when it had been quiet for a spell and things had been going too well, Kaylee noticed the same taut tension in them both. It came out in different ways, sure, but it meant the same thing. That both of them were spoiling for release, quivering like an arrow pulled tight in a bow and never allowed to fly to the target. And the rule was, Jayne told her once when she'd asked him about it, that the longer the quiet spell the harder the crash when it hit. Even as she watched, River rolled her neck so that she could flash her a secret grin. "Just as well." They shared a smile before turning to face the door. "I don't want you down there." "Not now, Simon." A bored sigh and Kaylee picked up on the signs of River's elastic stretching even tighter, thinning out taut and ready to snap. "It's about time Mal saw reason." Apparently, Simon didn't notice the same signs. "He doesn't need to take you all the time." She watched River set him with a glare she figured had been given many times before. "Leave her be, Simon." Kaylee couldn't help but add. "It's not me." River waved a hand towards her, but she didn't take her eyes off her brother. "He's picking a fight, but not the fight he wants. It's okay." "No, it's not okay." Maybe she shouldn't have stood up to face him, to take up a fight that wasn't even hers to begin with, that had obviously started a long time ago for the two people involved. "River's not a kid, Simon. Ain't no one here a kid. Mal don't force her to go anywhere. She chooses. And if she wants to go, let her go." "Kaylee..." River stood up, too. "Oh, of course." She flinched at the withering scald of his voice as he flashed his dark eyes to her. "I forgot. Kaylee the defender of all is here. What's the matter? Are there no small puppies to save? Sunshine to savor?" "Simon!" River all but yelled the words. "Stop it!" "I mean, of course you'd jump in." Just like her own words of before, they might have sounded mean. In fact, they sounded down right cruel, but Kaylee knew enough to hear the crack in his voice. "What else is there to do? Now that your life is so perfect..." "We're back to this, are we?" She sighed, feeling tired all of a sudden. "I thought..." "Yeah." He sounded tired, too, deflating even as she glared at him. "I thought so, too." It was an ache in her head. A growing knot of pulsing tension that pounded in wait, counting down agonizingly slowly until she feared the eventual explosion. In front of her, a million stars taunted her with their simplicity. Out there, it was a checker board of black and white, there were no grays and slippery slopes of hidden meanings and thoughts that grew into others and snide remarks that told more with what they didn't say out loud than what they did. Kaylee wanted Jayne back on board. He was simple like the stars. She was simple when she was with him. Black and white. *** Prompt #057: White. Word Count: 815. PANACEA. "Well." Mal's voice was smug as they stumbled into the shuttle. "That job was well done." "Oh." So was Zoe's. "Absolutely, Sir." "Shut up." Jayne managed. "The two of ye, just shut up and fly." They were grinning, they were gorram grinning at each other and he was just so glad to be the source of their amusement. Stupid gorram planet. Stupid rutting plan. As if Mal's plan's ever worked. He sat back on the seat, letting his head rest against the wall as he closed his eyes and then tried to close them even tighter until he saw red. Maybe if he thought on Kaylee, he could just block his mind, stop picturing those... Gorram it. Back to Kaylee. Yeah, but she was good for the soul. Always was. Girl was a ruttin' panacea. That was a good word. He'd heard the doc say it and looked it up on the little encyclopedia screen. Cure All. Universal Remedy. Solution. Yeah, that about summed her up. Magic Potion. Those were the words that stuck in his head as relating to Kaylee. She was nothin' short of a magic potion when he needed it. The red behind his eyes slowly bled away to a white. Shining white, kinda like Kaylee, so bright it was almost painful. Just the way he liked it. "You comfortable back there?" Mal shot back over his shoulder. "Fly. The. Ruttin'. Shuttle." Jayne gritted through his teeth. "Serenity?" He heard Zoe's soft voice and he wondered if she knew her voice still cracked a little when she did that, called through the com and didn't get Wash answering her back. "You ready? We're close." "Hey!" Kaylee's voice came through, bright and cheerful. "We're all set to go. 'Nara got back half an hour ago. Soon as you're set, we're off. We get paid?" They were laughin'. He could hear it. Jayne cracked open an eye and glared. "Yeah." Hell, Mal was pretty damn near close to giggling. "Yeah, we got paid." "What?" Kaylee asked, managing to sound both relieved and interested all at once. "What's so funny?" "Jayne will tell you when we get there." Zoe added. "No he ruttin' won't." Jayne said. "Sore and damaged." River's voice came over the com and Jayne groaned, even as Mal and Zoe laughed harder. "Hit like a rock." "What?" Kaylee sounded worried again. "What's wrong with Jayne?" "Nothin's wrong." He leant forward so she could hear him better. "I'm just fine, Kaylee." "Bits got bruised." River just had to add. The fun lovin' twins couldn't stop laughin'. "Tell me!" Kaylee demanded and even Jayne could hear the strain in her voice which said she was close to bein' angry at them all. "We, uh..." Mal paused to take a breath. "We had our meet up in a field." "Things got a mite..." Zoe paused, too, and Jayne could see the word coming a mile off. "... woolly." "Oh, ha ha." He glared. "Those men were fixin' to take off without payin' us." "But they did pay?" Kaylee stated the obvious. "Yeah." Mal answered. "But only 'cause they were laughin' so hard they dropped the money." "Hell." Zoe managed to get a hold on her laughter. Barely. "I was laughin' so hard I dropped my gun." She had, too, that was the worst thing. 'Cause Jayne knew that Zoe never let her guard down when they was on a job. "I went for my gun." Jayne knew the only way to get over it, would be to get the story done as quick as possible. "But it jammed in the holster." He didn't mention nothin' about how he hadn't finished cleaning it proper the night before. He figured Kaylee could come up with that on her own. "Shoulda seen him, mei mei." Mal sighed through the last of his giggles. "Big grown man, stumblin' round in circles, trying to get his gun out. Makin' such a ruckus that he got some unwanted attention." Gorram it. That started the two of 'em off again and he could hear River laughing over the com, too. "Stupid gorram sheep." Jayne muttered. "Had no business with me." "Thing butted in." Mal was enjoying this too much. "Twice!" "But...?" Kaylee sounded as if she'd missed the punch line. "Bits got bruised." River explained softly. "Oh!" And then Kaylee sounded as if she was tryin' not to laugh. "Oh, Jayne! Are you alright?" "Just great. Bloody brilliant." He sighed and then glared at Mal and Zoe again. "I'm just gonna let the two of you get shot next time." The com connection fizzled out, but not before he heard the peals of laughter on the other end. Jayne closed his eyes again and bit through the pain. It wasn't as easy to block it out thinkin' on Kaylee anymore. His bright white panacea had just gone and laughed at his pain. *** Prompt #058: Sunshine. Word Count: 403. NAG. "So... um...?" Jayne coughed. "Will you?" At that moment, he couldn't think of anything more uncomfortable. Even his teeth itched. The skin on top of his scalp crawled and he nervously scratched the back of his left hand with his right. Dark brown eyes watched him, all seriousness and calculation, brown hair hanging straight down and he never really knew how she kept it from flying all over the place. The silence stretched out and he considered just forgetting the whole thing. Nope. Couldn't do that. He'd promised. Jayne put his best begging face on, all wide eyes and pouched bottom lip. "Yes." River nodded, face cracking into a wide smile. "I think I will." "Good." He could breathe suddenly. "'Cause I got lots of ideas. You could..." Her smile disappeared, replaced with a predatory scowl, her eyes turning cold. He stopped speaking, letting his voice trail off into the air. "I will do it." Crisp words, spoken calmly as her hand closed over the package and slowly drew it across the table towards her and away from him. "Me." "But..." She warned him off with another scowl. "Aw, c'mon River." "Trust." One simple word, bitten out like a challenge. "I know how to do it." "Yeah." Somehow, his voice didn't sound anywhere near as sure as hers. "Okay." She was happy again, or so it seemed to Jayne, and went back to her breakfast. He shifted on his feet, unsure of what to do or where to go. Or even how long to wait. He wanted to know. "Will you...?" "Yes." She answered. "And the color...?" "Yes." Didn't even look up at him. "Don't forget..." "Of course not." She was starting to sound tetchy. "Okay, then." He wiped his hands down the side of his pants and breathed in. He couldn't stop himself blurting out the next few words. "And lots of yellow like the sun!" That done, he turned to leave. It probably didn't even need to be said, she'd probably known all along, better than him even, exactly how to make it perfect. For some reason, though, he had to add something, had to speak the last few words. "I know!" Her voice cracked with frustration and he turned to see an expression on her face that she'd only ever used with Simon before, when he was being a right pain in the ass. "Now leave me alone. Go. Go on. Shoo." *** Prompt #059: Puppet. Word Count: 539. THE COUNSEL. A door above them slammed and Kaylee smiled as she looked up from the various engine parts she had spread on an old sheet in the cargo bay. At this point, there was probably more grease on her than there was anywhere else, but considering that was the whole point of cleaning said parts, she didn't mind. "Hey Cap'n." She could see him brace himself for the onslaught of her cheerfulness and it only made her double her efforts with an extra wide grin. "Inara throw you out again?" "She didn't..." He paused. "There may have been words." His hand came out as he reached the bottom of the stairs and she ducked her head into the caress. A slight cough sounded from the weight bench behind them. "Careful Mal." Jayne clicked the barbell back into place and sat up. "She's spoken for." Kaylee laughed as Mal pantomimed springing his hand back as if burned. "Was about to ask you why you were camped out here when had work to do." Mal folded his legs in underneath him as he sat down next to her and gestured back at Jayne. "Now I see what the appeal is." "It's called spending time, Captain." She corrected with a pretend frown. "You oughtta try it some time." "Yeah." Jayne added. "Then maybe Inara might now throw you out so much." "She didn't..." He scowled and set his shoulders. "Woman's free to do whatever she wants." "You're not fooling anyone." She teased. "We know." "Right." Mal huffed. "You're getting worse than River with the knowing." "I'd be careful if I were you." Jayne warned. "That girl'll hear you all the way across the ship. And she can kill you with her brain." Kaylee giggled as Mal sighed. "She can do no such thing." "Yes I can." River's face popped out from over the gangway above them. "They're right. Listen to them." It was a smug grin that greeted Mal when he looked back to Kaylee and sighed. "Fine." His words might have agreed, but his voice still sounded stubborn and unrelenting. "Since you two are, apparently, our shipboard gurus and life coaches, what am I supposed to do?" "Stop bein' such a hundan." Was Jayne's very helpful suggestion. "Tell her she looks real pretty. Girls like that." "Yes, they do." Kaylee sent a smile his way as she nodded. "And tell her you like her dress. Inara has some real fine dresses." "Stop callin' her a whore. Girls don't like that." "Really?" Mal arched his brows at Jayne. "Is that so?" "An' stop bein' so sarcastic." Kaylee added as she swatted his arm. "It wouldn't hurt you to be serious for once." "You could always get her somethin' nice." Jayne paused. "If you had money, that is." "Just to make this clear." Mal asked. "You're telling me... and not that this is an admission that there's anything to help me with or that I would need help with it if there was... that I should just be someone completely opposite as to who I am?" "Yes." Beamed Kaylee. "Should do it." Agreed Jayne. "Or..." Kaylee nudged him. "You could just tell her the truth." Mal's eyes widened. "Tell her she looks pretty, huh?" *** Prompt #060: Birthday. Word Count: 649. SURPRISE. "What are you doing?" Jayne grinned and kept his hand wrapped around her head. "Takin' you to dinner. What else would I be doin'?" "Then why can't I see?" She whined. "What're you up to?" "Nearly there. Lift your foot, there's a step." He guided her into the kitchen, nodding across the room at Mal standing by the light switch. His hand fell away from her eyes, but his other hand stayed at the small of her back. "Surprise!" Kaylee blinked in the sudden light and sound as everyone yelled. "What?" Her eyes lit up and she turned to Jayne. "What surprise?" He gestured at the colored paper that crossed the room and dangled from the ceiling. There were packages sitting on the table that were wrapped in more of the colored paper. And a cake. "It says Happy Birthday on the sign, don't it?" "Yeah, but," She turned to him with a confused furrow in her brow. "Jayne, it ain't my birthday." "This has gotta be a real surprise, then." He kissed the top of her head. "It musta been once, right? I figure we missed it in all the muddle a few months back. We went to all this trouble, so just you enjoy it." He watched as she turned back to everyone with a glowing face. He'd known it wouldn't take long for her to just go with it. Kaylee wasn't ever one to throw away a chance to enjoy herself, not if everyone else was gonna join in and be happy while they were doin' it. "Day is a form of solar measurement that has no meaning in the black, it's man made." He heard River telling her in an excited voice. "So we made this one for you." "Really?" Kaylee all but glowed as she gripped his hand. "Yes." River nodded. "And I made Jayne's gift to you." "Hey now." He interrupted. "I helped." "Yes." River agreed, but he heard her lean in close to Kaylee and whisper. "No, he didn't." He leaned in close to the other ear. "I did, too." "Well." She grinned as she stepped forward. Jayne figured it was more to get away from them both than anything else. "Which one is it, then? I gotta see it." Jayne picked up a small, flat present. "Here." His mouth went dry just waiting for her to take it. "It's not much. Don't be expecting anything big or nothin'." River glared at him. "I'm sure it's very nice." Kaylee flashed him another grin as she began tearing at the paper. Her eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh, Jayne!" She pulled him in for a hug. "I helped!" River bounced on her toes. "Me!" "Oh, River!" She turned and grabbed the girl in a hug, too. "Thank you, both!" Kaylee couldn't stop staring at it, her big eyes drawn to the picture as if it were made of magnets. Jayne could understand, he wasn't sure what he'd expected, but River had done better than he'd hoped. The letters of Kaylee's name stood out in bright, restored yellow. One of the butterflies had a strangely familiar pattern on its wings that made Jayne think of Hawaiian shirts. It did the same for Kaylee, too, he could tell from the way she ran her fingers over it again and again. There were other personal touches in there, too, something small that was supposed to represent all of them. There was even a little Serenity flying in the middle of the 'a', where a red heart had once been. Where the old one had been Kaylee before she'd come aboard Serenity, this one was Kaylee now. The Kaylee that he couldn't imagine being away from for more'n it took to do a job. The Kaylee that was standing on the tips of her toes and kissing him to the sound of catcalls and hooting across the room. *** Prompt #061: Music. Word Count: 669. THE WALK. "Guess that's it for me." Kaylee yawned. "Thanks guys." "Wait!" Inara grabbed her hand. "Just a little bit more." "More?" She furrowed her brows and turned to Jayne. "There's more?" He shrugged at her. "I've got..." Inara seemed to be waiting for something and, all of a sudden, Kaylee knew what it was and a smile spread over her face. "... this. Happy Non Birthday." The sound coming over the com speakers was tinny and off key, but at that moment Kaylee didn't care. It was the nicest music she'd ever heard. Her head swam with all the dazzle of the ball. "Thanks Inara." She leaned over to kiss Inara's cheek. "You're welcome." Inara smiled, then gave her a small smile. "Maybe Jayne will ask you to dance?" "Oh, hey." Jayne frowned. "I don't dance." Kaylee turned to him with her best wheedling face on. "C'mon, Jayne, I didn't get to dance last time." But his face didn't seem like it was about to relent. She went for the big guns and pouched out her bottom lip. "Please?" "No." He set his jaw. "I ain't got no skill for it." "It's her party." Mal interjected. "Which was, I might add, all your idea. Get up and give her once dance." (Continued in part 2) From wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Mon Jan 9 22:14:00 2006 From: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au (wily_one24@yahoo.com.au) Date: Mon, 09 Jan 2006 22:14:00 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Pieces Pieces: the third quarter. _R_ (2/3) Message-ID: Pieces: the third quarter. by Jacqui wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Part 2 See part 0 for header information. If looks could kill, Kaylee was fairly sure the ship would have no captain anymore. "It's okay." She sighed. "It don't matter none." "Jayne." Even Zoe was frowning. "You're a real jackass sometimes. You know it?" "No, it's fine." A quick shrug of her shoulders and Kaylee wondered whether any of them actually bought it. Not that it mattered. "But you'll still walk me to my bunk, won't you?" The way everybody in the room was glaring at him, she figured Jayne had no choice but to agree to that small stipulation. Her hand hovered in mid air as she waited for him to take it. It surprised her, sometimes, how well they fit, her small hand being engulfed in his large one. Both their skins were rough and callused in areas, on the palms and the thumbs and the meaty pads of them. She held his hand tightly and kept her arm rigid as she made slow steps across the room. Half way over, she stopped short and gasped as she pulled his arm back, turning their bodied towards each other. "Oops! I forgot..." "Kaylee..." He sighed. "Oh, alright then." She smiled up at him and continued forward. "We'll just go." "Kaylee." It was more of a warning this time. She could see Inara suppress a smile across the room. "What?" Turning towards him with large, innocent eyes, she grabbed his other hand and they stood face to face. "What's wrong?" He glared down at her as she shuffled her feet into his, forcing them to move. "This is dancing." "No, it's not." She smiled sweetly. "It's just you, walkin' me to my bunk." He sighed again. "I don't ever recall walkin' sideways." "Really?" A puzzled look crossed her features. "I can't imagine why." "If you're gonna do this..." Kaylee wasn't sure what it was, maybe a touch of disappointment or fear crossed her eyes when she looked into his, but all of a sudden his grip on her right hand got a lot tighter, he pulled her closer and his left hand made its way to her waist. "then at least do it proper like." "Thank you." She whispered. "Yeah." He whispered back. "You owe me." "Well, Miss Serra." Mal's voice sounded clipped and formal. "Seems like the time. Will you do me the honor?" Kaylee saw surprise light up Inara's face as Mal held out his hand to her, she couldn't suppress another smile as Inara accepted and another couple joined what was soon becoming the dance floor. "River?" Simon held out his hand, too, but Kaylee saw her give a quick shake of her head and he turned away. "Zoe? Would you like this dance?" "Delighted." Kaylee sighed and rested her head on Jayne's shoulder. *** Prompt #062: Sound. Word Count: 384. SYMPHONY. He was a symphony sometimes. Kaylee liked that word, it sounded a lot better than 'a whole bunch of sounds' and it wasn't anything as flowery as callin' him music. A smile lingered over her face when she thought about the face he'd pull if she tried to call him something he'd think as girly. But symphony was just this side of manly and it was touch and go if he'd even know what it was if she ever slipped up and let the word come out of her mouth. She liked times like this, hadn't ever said it out loud and sometimes she thought she should. At least once. She should tell Jayne how much she adored climbing into his bunk, or hers, to find him already sleeping. The way she curled up into his hulking heat, pressing her whole body up against him, ankles to ankles, hip to hip, arm slung over his chest and face pressed right into the curve of his neck. He didn't ever wake up when she did that, just let his limbs mold around her, adjusted to her in his sleep. Then she'd lie there, listening to the pounding whoosh of his blood pumping under her ear, the thump of his heart beating loud a little off to the side, the whistle of air through his nose. Sometimes there'd be a rumble of a snore growling up from this throat and even that she didn't mind. There were plenty of people that complained about snoring, but Kaylee didn't. And all of that was just when he was sleeping. She could close her eyes and identify his mood just on the noises he made when he was awake. She knew the speed with which he made them: the sudden, loud violence or the soft, slow surety. The crisp sound of a blade against his throat. The snap of his teeth through an apple. The swish of cloth being put on or taken off his skin. Kaylee smiled and felt her eyes close over more fully, her limbs grow heavy and unwieldy as she gave herself over to the drunkenness of almost sleep. A small shift as she dug more closer to him and his arm tightened around her. She could sleep in the roar of all his sounds. *** Prompt #063: Silence. Word Count: 582. ALARM. "Kaylee." Jayne whispered her name softly, as softly as he could and it still sounded too loud as he shook her shoulder. "Kaylee, c'mon, wake up." "Mmphwah?" She blinked and a warm smile greeted him as she turned onto her back. "What?" "Shh." He held a finger to her lips. "Somethin's wrong." That was pretty much all it took. Her eyes flew open and he could tell she was already wide awake. The sudden spike in her eyes and the way her face paled gave him an edge he didn't want to think about. Couldn't think about if he was gonna be any use. "Engine stopped runnin'." He whispered again and he could see her scan the walls, as if they held any answer. "Ship's powered down. We're floating." He registered the very moment it dawned on her how quiet everything was. Even when no one was making any sounds, there was always noise on board. Always. Even if you didn't notice it anymore, it was always there. It just made the absence of it so much louder now. "The others?" She kept her voice low, too. He shrugged, knowing exactly what she was thinking, of when and who. It had been a quiet few months after Miranda, but none of 'em had really thought it was over. They'd all been waiting for the shoe to drop, the next bounty hunter lookin' for coin, the next Operative just followin' orders. "I'm gonna go check." Her hand dragged softly on his arm as he sat up. "Listen." He turned back to look at her, tried not to see the tightness of her face, the fear in it. "You lock that door from the inside after I go, okay? You lock it an' don't open it for anyone but me." Her teeth bit down on her lip, but she nodded at him. Gorram, they had to be in her bunk tonight, didn't they? Most of his ladies were stored well in his own bunk, locked up tight. Locked up nice and safe and far from his reach now when he wanted them. "Jayne?" Even whispering, he could hear her voice tremble. "Be careful?" She stood up and followed him to the door. Damn, but this wasn't what he needed. This was exactly why a merc did better on his own, traveling for no one but himself. The minute he starts worryin' about takin' a shot, 'cause there's someone waiting for him... well, that's the minute he becomes a useless merc. Jayne kissed the top of her head as an answer. "Lock the door." The door didn't even hiss when he pushed it open. "Gorramit!" He couldn't help the burst of air that came out of his throat. "Mal!" "Jayne." Mal stood by the door. "Kaylee in there? The engine's gone." "Yeah, we know." He could already hear shuffling below him. "Why can't you use the com like normal people?" "That's blown too." The look Mal was givin' him made Jayne bristle. "I looked over what I could, it's not the catalyzer." "Cap'n." Kaylee chided as her body scrambled right over Jayne's up the ladder, warmth pressing right past him. He could just about feel the relief pouring from her. "Engine's made up of more than one part." "But..." Mal pouted. "That's the only part I know." "Warning." A loud voice suddenly broke the silence. "Main power down. Auxiliary life support activated." "Yeah." Jayne grumbled, eyes looking up at the walls. "Now you tell us." *** Prompt #064: Ocean. Word Count: 620. RIPTIDES. There was a very fine line between helpless and helpful, she knew it. When Jayne first woke her up, she was the former, breath tight in her lungs and sweat beading on her skin, her mind a mix of images that she couldn't stand. Had made good and sure over the last year that she wouldn't have to stand. Sometimes she choked on it, how easily that could be ripped away and she ended up cringing behind Jayne or someone else. Nothin' but the bitty girl they used to tease her about being. Sometime after Early they'd stopped, didn't make fun of her being too girly to stand up for herself, but she still heard the words. With the appearance of Mal and the knowledge they were alone and relatively safe, she'd slipped right into the latter. Intruders that wanted a fight she couldn't deal with. Engines that stopped working, that was her specialty, that was when she took charge and had the answers others didn't. Her shoulders twisted as she reached in under the engine, hands sliding over parts she'd recognize through touch before sight. "There." Kaylee wasn't even sure if anyone was still there to hear her. "I think I found it." "How is she?" Apparently Mal was. "I ain't gonna lie to you, Captain." She let her face fall into a worried crease. "It's bad." "Bad?" There was an edge to his voice. "Bad like, it's gonna take a while to fix it bad? Or bad like, I'm gonna end up bleeding and close to death again bad?" Her fingers kept reaching and she stretched her arm further, deftly feeling around. The metal there was warm to the touch, warmer than it should have been, and she felt the residue of ash cling to her skin. "Bad like, we're gonna have to land somewhere 'til I can fix her, bad. And that's only if we can find the parts." "But you can land her?" "Me? No." There was a slight pause in the air and the unspoken knowledge of who she'd been talking about. It stung, worse than the caustic air that held the smell and taste of burning that stung their eyes. She looked at him and tried to smile an apology. "Maybe?" She offered. "It's okay." It wasn't in the words, so much as his voice and the way he ran a comforting hand down her shoulder. "I'll see what River can do. We were fairly close to Three Hills, last time I checked." He walked out and left her with the engine. "It's okay, baby." She whispered as she caressed the broken parts. "You'll be good as new soon. I promise." It rolled over her like a wave when Serenity didn't answer. There was no thumping or whirs, no rhythmic pulsing that she knew as well as her own heartbeat. Nothing but her own hollow breathing echoed back at her. Alone again. One of these days there wasn't going to be a miracle fixit and she wasn't going to have the answer. The edges of helplessness began to creep over her skin once more. She slid out from the machine and sat up, resting her back against the wall and bringing her knees up to her chest. It was impossible to breathe through the riptides of it, the adrenaline that finished surging through and sat there, stagnating in her blood. "You still in here?" Jayne folded up his body to sit down next to her. She felt his slow, steady gaze. "Hey, you okay?" "Yeah." She used the palm of her hand to wipe away any tell tale moisture in her eyes before she let her head lean into his shoulder. "I am now." *** Prompt #065: Vast. Word Count: 371. TOW. Jayne reached into the pit and grabbed her hand. "You right?" Her fingers curled around his. "Yeah." Her face came into view and he could tell she was almost flush with her success, but things were still a little far from celebration. "We're attached." Inara passed the message through the com to the bridge where, Jayne figured, Simon was relaying it through to the small tow ship that had recently just sealed over Serenity's airlocks. "Will she hold?" Kaylee gave him a look as she stood up. "'Course she will, I know what I'm doin'." "Yeah ya do." And he kissed the top of her head. They all felt the lurch of sudden movement. He guessed the message had gotten through fair enough and they were now bein' towed back down to Three Hills. Towing a ship through atmo was difficult at best, darn right risky at worst, but there wasn't much choice to be had. Serenity had no engine. And a ship with no engine don't break atmo. Even Jayne knew that. The three of them made their way up to the bridge to watch the approach. Simon and River were already sitting in the chairs. It felt kinda weird, the five of them steering the ship around without Mal or Zoe. They'd gone down in the second shuttle first thing to arrange all this. The fiery haze of burning atmo broke and they got their first good look at Three Hills. "That it is it?" Jayne sniffed. "Don't look like much." "Aren't there supposed to be hills?" Simon asked, eyes searching the landscape. "You'd think there'd be at least one." "Well." Inara lifted her chin in feigned disappointment. "I guess I can give up any hopes of replacing my lost clients with anyone here." "Dunno, Inara." Jayne grinned. "Don't look like they'd have much of a whore house, reckon you'd be pretty popular." Kaylee whacked him on the arm, but Inara just gave a tight smile in response. "I choose to take that as a compliment." River wrinkled her nose as she eyed the world, but she stayed silent. Kaylee sighed and Jayne ran a hand down her arm. "I wouldn't bet on finding any suitable parts here, either." *** Prompt #066: Empty. Word Count: 402. EMPTY BEDS. She opened the hatch of his bunk and found the footing with her feet. "So?" His voice was already thick and drowsy. "Just like I thought." Kaylee answered as she slid the coveralls off her shoulders. "Nothin' I can use, but we put an order through the cortex. Parts should be here in a day or so." "Mm." The heat of the planet was already filtering through Serenity's air flow and she stepped out of the pants, feeling air rush over her skin. It'd be just fine to sleep in nothin' but her shirt. "Thought you'd be asleep by now." Especially curled up to Jayne. "Was waitin'." Came his reply in the dark. "Bed just feels wrong without you now." "Looks wrong without me." Even though she couldn't see it, couldn't see much at all. But she could feel it as she lifted the blanket and eased right into the wall of heat. Her body slid against his and she smiled as his arm reached around her waist to hold her tight. "Was waitin'." He said again, mouth hot against the back of her neck. "Couldn't sleep without ya. M'all tense." "Tense?" She could play dense, 'cause she liked when he nipped at her ear for it. "You want me to get you a smoother? Relax you some." "Don't need no drugs, babygirl." It was gravel and sand, his voice, everything that cracked her open. Sometimes he liked it fast, but sometimes he liked it real slow. Liked to wrap his arms around her from behind and trap her hands up close to her chest, liked to press his front all up against her back. Surround her with his body so she couldn't move at all. He'd grind so slow against her, work her up into a writhing, whimpering, needy little mass of flesh as he placed soft, light kisses on the back of her neck, down her shoulders and up again. And then he'd slide whatever clothing they had to the side, not even bothering to take them off, just moved 'em so they weren't in the way. She couldn't stop pressing back, pushing her rump against his hips, couldn't stop the slow moan as he slid right in. With the push and the pull and him holding her still, sucking the sizzle right out of her skin, Kaylee felt herself tighten, felt everything build into a crescendo that crashed brilliantly. *** Prompt #067: Choices. Word Count: 257. CHUMP. "How 'bout now?" Jayne frowned into the hat that covered his face as he lay on the ground. "No." "C'mon Jayne." Kaylee leaned down close to him and it was like she was trying to force the cheer out of her voice and right into him. "There's a whole planet we could be exploring." "It's a rock." He mumbled, stretching his limbs out into the heat of the dust. "There ain't nothin' to see. Just more rock." There was a shift and he could feel her sigh next to him. Yeah, like he needed to feel like more of a chump. He was right, of course, there weren't nothin' on this rock he wanted or needed to see an' if they were getting their parts tomorrow and she could fix the ship, then he wouldn't have to. "It can't be all bad." For a while, when he'd first met her, Jayne had spent a long time tryin' to figure out how one person could be so damn happy all the time. Seein' good in everything, hell, she probably found a bright side to having that bullet rip through her belly. "Fine." He lifted the hat from his face and blinked up into the sun. "Which way we headed?" He'd worked it out. Kaylee didn't come about her whole stock of sunshine and smiles just 'cause they fell outta the sky. She chose it, she chose to look at everything that way, 'cause she liked finding the good. "You choose." She grinned down at him. "I'll just follow." *** Prompt #068: Lost. Word Count: 229. DIRECTION. "Jayne?" Kaylee shielded her eyes with her left hand and reached behind her to feel for him with her right. "Do you even know where we are?" His bulk brushed up against her and she closed her fingers around his arm. "We're on a rock." He sighed and she turned to grin up at him. "We been on a rock, all day." She let her hand trail up his arm, over his shoulder and across the curve of his collar bone. Slowly, although she could tell by the glint in his eyes that he knew what she was doing, she trailed her hand down his other arm. "You know." Her hand reached his, stretching out his limbs as she struggled to pry the canteen from his hand. He fought to hold on to it for a second, before releasing it. She could tell by his playful mood that he wasn't worried in the slightest. "'Course I know where we are." The way he watched her when she swallowed made Kaylee figure they should head back to the ship soon. "What kind of tracker you take me for?" "One whose been watchin' my ass more'n the direction we been walking." He laughed as he gave her a quick whack across the said appendage. "You just stick with me, Kaylee." He took the canteen back. "An' I'll never get us lost." *** Prompt #069: Found. Word Count: 359. DECLARATION. He took her face in his hands, fingers spreading over her cheeks and under her chin as he turned her head to the side a little and pointed off into the distance. "You see those big boulders over there?" She nodded against the weight of his hands. "Serenity's just behind 'em." Jayne felt her mold in against him and he let his eyes slide down over her. "I love it when you do that." She whispered up and her words made his breath catch in his throat. "You always make me feel safe." "Yeah?" Couldn't help the husk in his voice as he dipped his mouth to her cheek. "Well, I love makin' you feel safe." Small, throaty laughter and his hands smoothed over her hair, down her neck and to her waist, pulling her to him, all up against him. Her flesh was always soft and supple under his fingers, he could feel them press into the sides of her hip. "God." She groaned. "I love when you do that." "Really?" He slid his tongue up the side of her neck. "That's good, 'cause I love doin' it." Her hands were running up his arms then, small, deft fingers pressing into the grooves of them. She knew the kinks of his body, knew where the tightest knots in his muscles were and she pressed firmly into one of them now. "I love makin' your face do that." She teased. He growled low in his throat and turned his head to kiss her on the lips, hard. "Yeah?" Didn't even know the words were comin' out of his mouth until it was too late. "Well I just love you." Kaylee gasped against him and he knew he couldn't take the words back. Suddenly, he was sure he didn't want to. She pulled back from him, looked up into his eyes. Girl was so surprised, she'd even forgotten to smile. "Really?" He nodded at her. "I love you, too, Jayne." "Glad that's settled." He nodded, trying not to let her see the grin that was about to break out all over his face. "Now let's get back while we can." *** Prompt #070: Full. Word Count: 393. STONE. She couldn't stop glowing. Kaylee didn't know how anyone else couldn't see it, couldn't look at her and just know something was different. Had anyone asked, she would not have been able to tell them exactly how long it had taken them to walk back, how many steps it had been. Hell, far as she knew, they'd passed an elephant and a unicorn playing jump rope while singing Happy Birthday to a leprechaun. Had they asked how many times he'd turned to sneak a smile at her when he thought she wasn't looking, she'd be able to answer that no problems. Not a one. Fourteen. Not counting the time she'd turned quick enough to catch him and smiled back. He'd said it and she'd said it back and it was the first time. Now they were sittin' at tables set up just outside the ship, eating dinner that they'd helped some of the locals make up. Far as she could tell, they were friendly folk. Maybe a little skittish and too eager to finish up and go home, but friendly other than that. Her hand slid under the table and found his waiting by her leg. The glow factor of her skin amped up and she had to bite down on her lip. Across the table, River was grinning at them both. But Simon wasn't. His eyes burned and she watched him reach out for the glass in front of him. He swallowed in one long pull and if the glass hit the table a little harder than it should have, almost nobody noticed. River flinched a little and Kaylee let her fingers loosen until they were out of Jayne's grasp, bringing her hand back up to the table. "You ok?" Jayne's breath echoed against her neck and she felt her skin prickle. "Yeah." A quick turn of the head so she could look in his face. It didn't hurt that to do so, she had to put a little distance between them. "'Course I am." He smiled at her, all crinkly eyed and it made her smile back. "I need air." Simon declared and stood up a little suddenly. "I'm going for a walk." Kaylee couldn't look up, her chopsticks clattered down to her plate and she pushed her food away. A stone sank into her belly, heavy and solid and familiar. *** Prompt #071: Fall. Word Count: 363. THE WARNING. "How long you people gonna be here?" The pastor bit off a piece of meat from his fork. He was nice enough, a bit gruff, but Jayne couldn't have cared less right then. Not when he had Kaylee sitting next to him. "Not long." Mal answered for all of them. "We got a few parts comin' in. Thought they'd be here by now, should be here by tomorrow. We'll be outta your hair by then." "No rush, no rush." The man tried to smile as he ran his eyes over their table. "Just, you know, be careful." "Careful?" Zoe looked at the man and Jayne felt himself looking as well. No matter how distracted he was, one thing he'd learned was to pay attention when Zoe's voice got like that. "Don't wander off." He spoke mostly to Mal, keeping eye contact. "Especially the ladies here. Don't let them go out alone." "You got a problem?" Jayne kept his voice level. "Not so much." The pastor was quick to reassure them. "Just the usual, you know. Sometimes people go missing." "Missing?" Mal arched his brows. "You got people going missing and there ain't no alerts posted on this planet?" "No, no." The man tried to smile again. Jayne felt his own eyes narrow in suspicion. "Nothing like that. It's not a problem, just a universal thing. It happens everywhere." "Bullshit it happens. An alert stop the trade 'round here, will it?" But Mal's fierce look stopped any further words and Jayne chewed on a potato to cover his frustration. "Don't you have some form of law enforcement?" Inara asked casually, but Jayne could see the thread of calculation underneath. "We have police, of a sort." The Pastor sniffed. "They keep things reasonably quiet." "Simon." River said, her head turning to look off into the dark. "He walked off. Someone should..." 'Course he did. Jayne let his fork hit his plate and stood up. "I'll go get him." "I'll help." Kaylee was quick to stand. "I know where he likes..." "No." Jayne was even quicker to stop her and he felt eyes on him. "You stay here with the others. I'll find him just fine." *** Prompt #072: Myth. Word Count: 578. CIRCLE. Kaylee found him hunched over by some rocks. "Simon!" He flinched away when she reached out to touch him. "We were worried." "No." His voice was slurred and she realized he must have drunk more than she originally thought. "You weren't worried about me." "Yeah, I was. We all were." She tucked her dress in under her thighs as she sat down next to him in the dust. "You might've missed the pastor's warning, he said..." Her words trailed off when his hand rested on her naked knee. "Kaylee?" Soft and whispered. She had to close her eyes for a second. "Don't, Simon." Very carefully, very deliberately, she lifted his hand up and placed it back on his lap. "Yes! Of course not, sorry." She hadn't heard him sound so confused and baffled and beaten down before. "It's just, do you ever...?" "No." It was stilted again, awkward like it hadn't been for such a long time. "No, Simon, I don't ever." "I do." A sigh, so deep his whole body moved with it. "Sometimes I think I could be better, that if I could just show you..." "I don't wanna see." Kaylee swallowed and looked up at the sky, suddenly wishing that they'd never been forced to land here. "You and me, Simon, we're done. If we ever really started in the first place, we're done now." "But..." "But nothing." There was a hard edge to her voice now and she let it stay there. It had to be said and maybe she'd made a mistake in not saying it before now. "I gave you plenty of chances. For a whole year, I gave you everything I knew how." His eyes swam to focus in on hers. "And by the time you started to give back, I guess there was nothing left. You made me empty." She couldn't look at the way he flinched if she wanted to keep talking. "By the time we got together, I think I was more in love with the idea of you than the reality. We, the two us? We were a myth." "I'm sorry." "Yeah." The sadness in her voice matched his, wistful and pain filled. "Me, too." Silence stretched out and they sat, side by side, looking up into a black sky. "Jayne, though?" She sighed. Her answer was so simple that it couldn't be mistaken for anything else, there was no room for argument in the way she made him see it. "He gives back." She nudged him again, tried to smile. "Not to mention he'll kick your ass eight shades of black an' blue you keep this up." "Most likely." He turned to face her, reaching out to run a finger through the hair over her ear. "I miss you, though. Nothing will stop that." Her hand came out and caught his, holding it for a second by the side of her face. He'd done it countless times before and each one had a different meaning. This one felt like goodbye. "I miss you, too." They shared a soft, sad smile. "I still care for you, Simon, I probably always will..." She didn't get to finish that sentence, didn't get to say that it was in a different way than it had been and they could never go back. Because they both heard a snap and turned to look at the noise. Jayne's eyes flashed something that made her stomach twist into knots and stole her breath. *** Prompt #073: Secret. Word Count: 668. BRUISE. "Jayne!" He breathed in and kept walking, feet stomping into the ground. "Jayne, wait!" She was running after him and he couldn't talk to her right now. Knew that if he stopped to face her he was gonna say something he'd regret. He couldn't get the image outta his head, the two of 'em so close and her sayin' those words. "I got nothin' to say." He called it over his shoulder. "Best go back." "Well I got plenty to say!" There was a scramble behind him and he heard the sound of gravel shifting and sliding. His first instinct was to turn and check if she was okay. He fought it. He fought it hard as his fingers clenched. "Jayne!" It was the fear in her voice that made him stop, the hitch of her throat when she hit the y. "You can't leave me here." It hit him then, just what she meant. Damn it. The pastor's words came back to him and he remembered the warning that they shouldn't be out alone. Especially not the girls and especially not at night. "What do you want me to say, Kaylee?" He still couldn't turn to look at her, didn't want to see her face flushed with embarrassment or, worse, paled and drawn with tears. Didn't think he could take it if she cried on him. (Continued in part 3) From wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Mon Jan 9 22:14:01 2006 From: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au (wily_one24@yahoo.com.au) Date: Mon, 09 Jan 2006 22:14:01 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Pieces Pieces: the third quarter. _R_ (3/3) Message-ID: Pieces: the third quarter. by Jacqui wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Part 3 See part 0 for header information. "You don't understand, Jayne." She was getting closer to him now, walking towards him and he stiffened, prayed that she wouldn't touch him. "It wasn't what it looked like." "What?" Couldn't help himself, he had to spin around and face her. "You tellin' me you weren't close up with him, his hand in your hair and you tellin' him how much you still care for him?" "It wasn't like..." "You made me..." He bit his lip and his hands wrung into themselves. "I said I loved you, Kaylee. An' I don't say it often." "I know." She was reaching out, slowly, as if to a wild animal, as if she didn't wanna startle him away. "I know, Jayne. I said it back, remember?" He stepped back, away from her. "Fat lotta good it did." He made his voice low and cruel. "I thought your word meant somethin', Kaylee. Guess I was wrong." Her face looked like he just slapped her. "Jayne, listen to me!" She stamped her foot and there it was, she was cryin'. "I was tellin' him I cared, but not like it used to be. 'Cause I'm with you, now. That's what I was sayin'." God, he wanted to believe her, wanted to believe it so bad. "Really?" "Yes!" Relief flooded her features and she took the last few steps to meet him. "Yes, that's all it was." Jayne still couldn't move as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pushed against him in a hug, burying her cheek against his shoulder. His arms stayed out straight, hanging heavy in the air. She pulled herself back a bit, so she could look up at him. "Why?" He asked. "Why were you sayin' it all now?" "Because." Her voice rushed in to answer, quick to reassure him. "'cause he was all on about second chances and how he could do better and I kept tellin' him it was over." "I thought that was done?" Suddenly it made more sense, much more sense to him than anything else his too slow to think, but quick to get angry and explode brain had come up with in the last ten minutes. "I thought he was all good with that?" "Not really." Her voice quivered again and he let his hand drift up to the back of her head, curved around her skull. She still fit against him in every way. "He's been a bit tetchy, lately. I don't think he's okay with it at all." "You knew?" It was like a bruise he couldn't stop pressing, couldn't stop trying to make it hurt. "You knew an' you didn't tell me?" *** Prompt #074: Truth. Word Count: 488. KNOWING. "Why you gotta do that, Jayne?" She shrugged out of his arms. "You either believe me or you don't. Don't keep pushin' at it." The look he gave her made her shrivel a little bit more. "This ain't about me, Kaylee, I ain't done nothin' wrong." "Neither have I!" Oh, but this was gonna run around and around in circles and she didn't know how to make it right. She hadn't realized how cold it was getting, out here at night. Now that she was standing all by herself. "I don't know." And he didn't, she could see it in his eyes. "I don't know what to think, Kaylee." She wasn't sure how, but these words cut her more deeply than any accusation. He could look her right in the face and not know whether she was telling the truth and the knowledge of that slid over her skin. "Don't you trust me?" She tried to keep the tears from falling, she did, but they pricked at her eyes, burning like little drops of acid. "Jayne, I wouldn't..." "But you did. You already did, once." The words hit her like bricks, hard and fast, slamming into her and making her gasp out loud. His face registered shock, as if he hadn't been expecting them, himself. She saw it in slow motion, the way he reached out to take her arm and she couldn't imagine why. Her face folded into a flinch as she twisted away from him. "Don't. Don't you touch me." "Kaylee..." He sounded miserable and she couldn't help but hope he felt it, too. "I didn't mean..." "Yes you did." She bit through the tremble of her jaw, didn't want to start bawling out loud right now. "You meant every word of it. And you wanted to hurt me." "No." Even his soft voice sounded hard. "I never did anything to hurt you, Kaylee." "Really?" She gaped at him. "'Cause it sure feels like it now." "Don't do that." It almost sounded like the tables had turned, that he was pleading with her instead. "C'mon, Kaylee, don't do that." "Do what?" She glared. "You're throwing things in my face and I didn't do anything to you. I didn't..." It was messy, the sobs that burst from her throat, bubbling up and making her clutch her elbows in close, hugging herself. "Shh." His hand settled on her arm and she didn't throw him off this time, didn't skitter our of his reach as he pulled her to him, his voice a blanket that covered the jagged rawness she could feel bleeding from her skin. "It's okay, Kaylee. C'mon, it's okay." "No." But she was already melting into his arms, already sighing against him, curling into the way his hand came up to pet her hair. "It's not alright, Jayne, I didn't... I wouldn't... not to you... " "I know." Soft and soothing, he cooed at her. "I know." *** Prompt #075: Lie. Word Count: 618. STING. He had no choice but to stand there, with his arms wrapped around her and holding her close. Jayne couldn't stop to think on why it felt better to him that she felt worse, he didn't want to know what made him do it. He'd always figured himself a mean sonuvabitch, but somehow Kaylee had always been past that. He'd thought through his every move with her, been so very careful, had never wanted to throw away any moment and now, now he'd just gone and ground her into a pile of quivering dust just to lighten the image burned into his brain. "We should get a move on." Suddenly, it was more than just a way to get her to look up. His eyes scanned the rock crop in front of them. "You know where we are?" "What?" She shifted in his arms to look around. "No, I just followed you." "Come on, then." He took her hand tightly in his and didn't give her enough room to pull out of it. "We gotta get back." They walked like that for a few minutes and he could feel the tension building between them. He knew she wouldn't leave it be, she just had to bring it up right then so they could be right. That was fine, he agreed with that, as long as he could keep an eye out and try to figure out where they were. "I wouldn't lie to you, Jayne." "I know." There was a bunch of trees to the left and he tried to remember if there were trees in sight of the ship. "An' I'm sorry I said you did." Or the large expanse of rocks to the right. He definitely remembered rocks, didn't think there'd been so many of them, but still. Rocks. "There." And he started leading them towards it. "An' I wouldn't lie to you, either, Kaylee." She snorted a little and he stopped to look at her. "What? I wouldn't." Her eyebrow rose. "Not about the important stuff, anyway." If they could just get to and over those damned rocks, Jayne was sure they'd be able to see the ship, sitting on her haunches, gray and sulking with being left useless. Great, now she had him thinkin' on the ship like a person. "What about that time I burned the stew last week?" She challenged him. "An' you sat there eatin' it like nothin' was wrong with a big smile on your face." "That's not important!" It took him a second of dragging her to the rocks before he thought about what he'd just said. "An' I didn't lie. It tasted just fine." "Liar." She shot back. He frowned as felt he felt the pin pricks in the back of his neck and his fingers ran over the two small bumps there. "Kaylee..." "Oh, come on." She turned to sigh at him. "I was just joking." "Gorram it. I told you to stay with the others. You shoulda..." He dropped to his knees. "Run." "Jayne!" The world got kinda blurry and he tried to blink it off, tried to tell if he really felt her kneeling next to him, her hands running over his arms and shoulders, her voice cracking. "I said run." But he couldn't figure if the words had come out or not. "Kayl..." "Well, well." That was definitely the cold feel of a gun against his head. Jayne heard Kaylee squeal and turned to see her being dragged to her feet by two men. He lunged forward and felt the gun hit the side of his head for all his trouble. "Didn't your momma ever tell you not to talk to ladies like that?" *** ### The End ### From heronymus_waat at hotmail.com Tue Jan 10 21:27:04 2006 From: heronymus_waat at hotmail.com (heronymus_waat@hotmail.com) Date: Tue, 10 Jan 2006 21:27:04 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Diagnostics _PG_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Diagnostics Author: Heronymus Feedback: heronymus_waat at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG Genre: het Characters: Kaylee, Simon Pairings: Simon/Kaylee Summary: Simon and Kaylee are more similar than they think. Notes: Spoilers for BDM, and pretty much all of the series. This story is available at the archive: [6k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/diagnostics.shtml From l.r.facey at herts.ac.uk Wed Jan 11 07:11:50 2006 From: l.r.facey at herts.ac.uk (l.r.facey@herts.ac.uk) Date: Wed, 11 Jan 2006 07:11:50 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Firefly: A New Beginning _PG-13_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Firefly: A New Beginning Author: tabitha Feedback: l.r.facey at herts.ac.uk Status: NEW - Work-In-Progress Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Malcolm, Zoe, Kaylee, Jayne, Simon, River, Other - New character Pairings: New & Mal or Jayne Summary: When Mal accepts a passenger aboard Serenity, he and the crew get more thean they bargined for Notes: Set after the BDM From l.r.facey at herts.ac.uk Wed Jan 11 07:11:50 2006 From: l.r.facey at herts.ac.uk (l.r.facey@herts.ac.uk) Date: Wed, 11 Jan 2006 07:11:50 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Firefly: A New Beginning _PG-13_ (1/1) Message-ID: Firefly: A New Beginning by tabitha l.r.facey at herts.ac.uk Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. "I understand you take passengers on your Firefly Captain Reynolds?" The man enquired. Mal looked him up and down, he was tall, well dressed and had a look about him that reminded Mal of an alliance general, but still beggars couldn't be choosers and now Serenity was in the air again they had to find work. "I do sir". Malcolm responded. "Do you have a ships medic?" The man questioned him. This question made Mal suspicious, Mal had thought that the Alliance had given up looking for River and Simon but maybe this man was a spy, or bounty hunter and Mal wasn't prepared to put his crew in danger, he wasn't prepared to risk loosing anyone else. "Why do you ask?" Mal responded warily. "I ask because the passenger I wish you to transport needs medical care". The man responded, without waiting for Malcolm to reply he carried on. "My daughter was badly injured a couple of months back, this town is too volatile for someone like her, my brother and his wife have agreed to take her in". "Your daughter, what does she want?" Mal asked, the only type of passenger Mal was going to agree to was the willing kind, the not so willing kind tended to be a whole load of trouble. "She will not cause you any trouble if that is what you are suggesting Captain Reynolds, she is far from dangerous, she has no memory of anything before the accident, of this planet, her home, of me. She has no ties here; this is her chance to build a new life, far away from here". The man replied sadly. "I am prepared to offer you four times the going rate if you agree to transport my daughter safely to Olaris, providing she gets the medical care she requires". The money was too good to refuse, the ship needed repairs and fuel, the crew needed food and work, something to take their minds off of all that had happened over the past couple of months. "Our medic is highly qualified and very dedicated, sir". Malcolm replied. "Then I'm sure my daughters needs will not present a problem". The man commented. "When will you be ready to leave?" He asked. "First thing tomorrow morning". Malcolm replied. "I will pay you half the money once my daughter is on board your ship, my brother will have the other half waiting for you upon her safe arrival on Olaris". The man informed him as he turned to leave. Mal headed back inside. He found his crew sitting, playing poker around the table. "We have a job; we leave for Olaris tomorrow morning". Mal told them. "But cap, Serenity, she ain't ready for such a long flight". Kaylee responded. "Then you must make sure she is ready". Mal replied, Kaylee pushed back her chair and hurried to the engine room. "What's the cargo Mal?" Simon asked. "It's just as well you asked". Mal replied. "A child, she needs medical care, the father says, we are to take her to some relatives in Olaris". "Gorram kids, I ain't being no babysitter to no kid". Jayne muttered. "I don't remember asking you to". Mal responded as he turned his back on Jayne. "But you're asking me?" Simon asked. "Yes, yes I am". Mal replied. "Ok". Simon shrugged his shoulders. "So what does she have wrong with her then, this child?" He asked. "I didn't ask, she had some kind of accident, that's all the father told me". Mal told him, Simon raised his eyebrows in amazement at the Captains stupidity before he stalked out of the room. River giggled. "What did I do?" Mal asked her. She didn't respond she just sat smiling quietly to herself. **************************************************************** "Mal". Kaylee yelled up from the cargo hold. "They're here, I can see them coming, you should come down". Mal made his way down, his boots clanking against the dark iron of the steps of the stairway. The man he had met yesterday, still wearing the grey suit that made him look so like an Alliance general was standing in the hold, in his arms was his daughter bundled up in a blanket, with them a dark coloured man, clearly a slave or servant of some kind, carrying a couple of cases and large rucksack type bags. Mal sauntered towards them, eager not to appear too desperate for the money they needed so badly. "Captain Reynolds". The man greeted him with a curt nod of his head. "Sir". Malcolm responded. "I take it my daughters quarters are ready?" The man demanded. "They are sir, please follow me". Malcolm replied. He led the way back up the iron stairway and into the section of Serenity that housed the passengers quarters. He opened the sliding door to the largest of the ensuite passenger rooms and stood back to let the man, his daughter and the servant enter, before stepping inside himself. The man gently placed his daughter on the bed and bent down next to her softly muttering his farewells, Malcolm looked away uneasy at witnessing the mans last moments with his daughter. Finally the man stood up and turned to face Malcolm. "I trust you will take good care of my daughter, Captain Reynolds". The man asked. "That we will sir". Malcolm replied as the man brushed past him, his servant following silently as he hastily made his way out of Serenity entrusting his daughter in the care of Malcolm and his crew. ### The End ### From raelluyn at hotmail.com Thu Jan 12 02:01:51 2006 From: raelluyn at hotmail.com (raelluyn@hotmail.com) Date: Thu, 12 Jan 2006 02:01:51 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Good, In The Latin _PG_ (1/1) Message-ID: Good, In The Latin by merrily raelluyn at hotmail.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Zoe waits a full month before going to see Simon. By this time she's sure herself, but there are still factors to rule out: grief, diet, the shocking difference of living without a constant adrenaline high. In that month, making double-sure before going to Simon, Zoe practices cataloguing her body. It's no great difficulty: she's a hired gun; she's made it through a war. She's lived with no certainty but her body and its limitations, and this has given Zoe an ability to be aware from her soles to her crown. Both her soles and her crown, however, are normal, no matter how often she checks in. It's the centre that is suddenly new ground. --- They're at Haven, the ship grounded. Mal is out with Book; Simon, River, and Inara are asleep; Jayne and Kaylee are singing campfire songs. Wash and Zoe have the ship to themselves. "I'm gonna make noise," Wash says gleefully. "Lots of noise. You think that blue's my normal sex-face, but wait 'till you see what I'm like when I don't have to consider Jayne listening in next door." "I know what you're like, sweetie," Zoe grins, looking up at him from under lowered lids. "You're very good at making things fly." There's more, of course -- there's the immense comfort of love; there's the ease having a partner who knows exactly where to tap, flick, kiss, lick, scratch -- but mostly, afterwards, Zoe remembers that there was laughter. Giggles, even. And at the point when they're locked together, giggles gone, Wash kisses her with fierce joy on his face and Zoe thinks that Book must be right, there must be a God, and there can't be anything better than this. --- When they're repairing Serenity and trying to patch up themselves (after Miranda, after everything), Zoe spends some time reconsidering the God part. Her skin aches; her mouth aches; there's no soothing to be found. She cries silently at night, everyone else asleep, her throat burning and raw with the effort of holding the noise in. She spends days making herself move, even starts working out with Jayne for the sake of action. She tackles all the projects that Mal wanted to finish sometime, tightens every single loose bolt, does upgrades on the second shuttle. When Mal scrounges up a new job (moving plants and hydroponics to a new colony), Zoe immediately volunteers for the bulk of the work. It's soothing to be in the cargo bay surrounded by green: watering, fertilizing, clipping. She even sings when no one's around. And it's there, thinking about plants and oxygen and growth and death, that Zoe finally realizes the thing that grief had kept her from noticing. The huge thing. The hugest thing that ever she and Wash had disagreed on, suddenly shouting for attention. --- Simon's eyes shutter as soon as Zoe explains why she's come to see him. She gets it -- the sudden distance -- he's afraid for her, doesn't want to encourage hope if there's nothing to hope about; doesn't want to react before he knows how she feels about it. He goes into the most bedside of all his manners, and they do the necessary tests behaving for all the world like it's routine, like he's just patching up another contusion or knife cut. Since the infirmary has all the necessary equipment to process the samples, however, the cool, detached, this-is-routine act lasts all of ten minutes. Zoe is lying on one of the cots when Simon turns back from the viewscreen, his eyes wide. "I'm pregnant," Zoe says. Simon exhales. "Yes." --- It's only been a month, though. It's not far enough to be certain about; Simon won't breathe easy until Zoe's 12 weeks along and the danger of miscarriage lessens. He explains this gently and Zoe nods. Zoe sits. And they stay there together for a minute, quiet. "I've got work to do," Zoe says, standing. "Me too," and Simon gets up to walk her out. --- Zoe is a stoic. Zoe is a soldier. And both these things get her through the next two months, which are thankfully full of boring jobs with minimal bodily danger. The sudden lack of Federal interest in Serenity & her crew paves the way for all kinds of regular-joe work: a monthly supply run between three outbound moons (paper, water purifiers, spices); postal delivery for rich families nervous about using normal channels, preferring instead to have hired guns ferry their gossip about. And through it all, though she damps it down and is careful not to think about it, something lightens inside Zoe. The grief is less harsh. There's a warmth, an extra source of light singing in the black. There's possibility, and there would even be delight, but she's not ready yet to think that, can't trust enough yet that this won't be taken away. But three months pass and Zoe knows the baby (this is new too: she hasn't let herself think the word "baby" until now) is strong and healthy and rooted. Stubborn life. She knows it and Simon knows it too, and as he checks her, they are smiling together. --- Mal is terrified, at first, scared out of his skin by his first mate suddenly eating for two. Kaylee fusses like no one has ever fussed. Jayne is protective and enthusiastic. Inara blanches when Zoe first tells her and Zoe laughs, immediately understanding -- sex, of course, being natural and easy for a Companion to discuss; pregnancy being an outcome to be avoided at all costs. Inara recovers and laughs too, and then becomes immensely useful, turning up all kinds of women's lore about the different kinds of morning sickness and what will lessen each. River smiles dreamily when Zoe tells her, and reaches down behind the flight console to retrieve a package, which she hands over. Zoe opens it with raised eyebrows. Inside is a soft wool blanket. Unfurled, it is a collection of earth-coloured squares, each with a different dinosaur in the middle. Zoe finds herself unable to speak. "You're welcome," River says, and bends at the waist to kiss Zoe's belly, graceful as a flower. --- Six months pass, and no one dies, and Zoe doesn't fall down any stairs or get shot or have to duck shrapnel. They keep flying. Things are easier, there's food on the table at more or less regular intervals, and customers start passing the word on to other customers that Mal Reynolds gets things done. It's not the stuff of thrilling adventure tales, but Zoe kind of likes the pace. She's slower, too, nine months full of baby, and the crew has taken to rotating Zoe-duty to ensure that someone's close by whenever she needs anything. (Zoe suspects there's a roster on paper somewhere, probably in Kaylee's bunk, but nobody ever mentions it.) They're all reading baby books, too -- once, Zoe even caught Jayne in the lounge furrowing his brow over a copy of "What to Expect." She cleared her throat as she walked in, and he looked up. "Zoe!" falsely cheerful. "How're you doing today, first mate and pregnant lad... eee..." and then his enthusiasm ran out. "I got to go and, well, there's something that - Kaylee!" and Jayne set the book down and scampered out, all the while making a large berth of her and her big tummy. Later, Zoe overheard him whispering in shocked tones to Kaylee in the engine room. "You won't believe what birthing looks like!" "Sure I would," Kaylee rejoins easily, smiling. "I helped my Momma birth my brother, and we had puppies twice." "Didn't make you vomit?" "Of course not, ninny! It's amazing -- a new person seein' the sky for the first time, seein' another face... I can't wait." For the next little while, though, when they talk, Jayne still keeps his eyes firmly on Zoe's eyes and only her eyes. Amused, Zoe reflects that, although massively silly, it's an improvement over the interest he'd been showing in her swelling bosom. --- Then comes the day. The Day. End of September, and they're in the world, Glanmore to be specific. Zoe is in the engine room dozing in Kaylee's hammock. River is sitting on the floor next to her, drawing pictures of the crew as bobble-headed dolls. Inara's off with a client; Kaylee's visiting friends; Mal, Jayne and Simon are in town picking up supplies. It's summer in Glanmore, a pastoral planet with enormous amounts of rainfall, and the air breezing through Serenity's open vents is full of leaves and pollen. And dreaming about flowers and pools with waterfalls, and a naked Wash doing cannonballs and splashing Mal, who is wearing a very fine hat, Zoe's labour starts. She doesn't notice right away, but River does. When Zoe finally starts awake, River is peering intently at the watch she'd recently taken to wearing. "They're 27 minutes apart. Lots of time." --- By the time the others get back to the ship, River has maneuvered Zoe to the lounge, where they were walking around determinedly. "The cargo bay would've been better," she explains to a bemused Simon, reacting to River's deployment of his tools, "but I wasn't sure if it was needed for work." "River, we were just getting supplies." "Jayne wanted a motorcycle and Mal was thinking about taking on a cargo of hay bales. After I realized that, I had to pay attention to Zoe. Didn't check to see if either of them decided." "There are no haybales. Or a motorcycle." Simon turns to Zoe. "Do you want to go to the cargo bay?" "This is fine. This will work fine." Zoe puffs. "River's set it up." And she had, Simon realized, perfectly -- pads for kneeling and sitting, ice to chew on, blankets to lie on, drugs at the ready if Zoe needed pain relief. "Right then," and both River and Simon, smiling at Zoe, roll up their sleeves. --- In total, it takes twelve hours, and Zoe, stoic Zoe, yells like no one had ever heard. Twice Mal bounds in, panic-struck at the sound of his first mate bellowing, and twice River is at the door to meet him, smile reassuringly, turn him around and kick him out. Jayne does the same thing, but only once -- River kicks him out by kicking him, and Jayne decides that crazy people and birthing people is a combination he doesn't wanna be around. And it was easy, (thank God, thought Simon) smooth, fast, nothing tearing. When Zoe's son finally slides into Simon's hands, a gush of life unexpectedly quick, Simon shouts with happiness, River whoops and flings out her arms with joy and relief, and Zoe breathes deep. And then everything is finished, quickly, Simon doing the necessary cutting and River wiping off the baby and handing him to Zoe. The bloody parts of birth are cleaned away, and Zoe gets fresh clothes and everyone troops in to coo over the baby-- Kaylee pouting at having missed the birth; Inara disarrayed (as Mal points out, smirking) and out of breath from having cut her session short in order to run back and see the baby; Jayne and Mal, for once, equal in their relief that it's over and they didn't have to see any of the squeezing out bits. He's perfect, of course, mocha-coloured and tiny, with curly dark hair. And when little Benedict opens his eyes to see what the fuss is all about, everyone gasps to see that his eyes are blue blue blue, like the sky. Like his daddy's. --- "Benedict?" asks Mal the next day, sneaking into Zoe's bunk after lunch. She's exhausted still, of course, but doesn't want to close her eyes in case her baby's tiny body is actually made of spun sugar and he melts into the air. "Yep. It means blessing." "S'okay if I just call him Ben?" Zoe's put the baby in Mal's arms, and he's holding him gingerly, fascinated but wary. "Interesting," comments River, swinging down from the door. "Ben and Mal. Bad and good." "Just as long as no-one's calling him 'Dick'," Jayne remarks, passing the corridor, and then they all laugh, and the baby wakes up and cries, and Kaylee pages Mal to say that there's a wave for him and life starts up again. And Zoe forgives Book finally, who wasn't, she reflects, entirely mistaken about things. The hurts aren't all better, of course, but there's new love to help the old pain and Serenity glows with it. And that's enough, Zoe thinks, sliding into sleep as River settles in the rocking chair with Ben, to keep her flying. --- ### The End ### From raelluyn at hotmail.com Thu Jan 12 02:01:51 2006 From: raelluyn at hotmail.com (raelluyn@hotmail.com) Date: Thu, 12 Jan 2006 02:01:51 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Good, In The Latin _PG_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Good, In The Latin Author: merrily Feedback: raelluyn at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG Genre: gen Characters: Zoe Pairings: Zoe/Wash (kind of) Summary: Life persists, even in the black, even when you're hollow. (Hint - wouldn't it be nice if _someone_ had a baby?) Notes: Spoilers for the BDM This story is available at the archive: [11k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/goodin.shtml From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:37:35 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:37:35 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:01 / 02, Reaved, Parts 1 and 2 _PG-13_ (0/2) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy 1:01 / 02, Reaved, Parts 1 and 2 Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and crew of the BlackJack Pairings: N/A Summary: Jacob Greyson and the crew of the BlackJack are hired to discover the whereabouts of a missing Alliance taskforce. What they find are Reavers. Notes: Spoilers for Serenity Movie, some violence. This story is available at the archive: [53k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/legacy101.shtml From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:37:36 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:37:36 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:01 / 02, Reaved, Parts 1 and 2 _PG-13_ (1/2) Message-ID: Legacy 1:01 / 02, Reaved, Parts 1 and 2 by James the Dark jamesthedark at hotmail.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Legacy 1:01, Reaved, Part 1 "Here's how it is. While back, some idiots got it in their head to stand up against something a lot bigger than themselves. Didn't work out so well, and took down a bunch of us with them. I guess I understood what they fought for, but I couldn't fight for it m'self. The Alliance figured war'd be a fine thing, and they brought it with them. The Independents decided to fight'em. Bad choice. It was a massacre. Thing's been tough the last few years. Every month, the Parliment closes its fist a bit tighter. The good men in government get spat out, and cookie-cutter conservatives took their place. Things got tough, and folk had to get tougher. Like me, for example. I had a gravy contract, before the War, but thing's gone south. I ain't getting any younger, and the 'Verse is getting a bit darker. Course, then the Wave hit. Working for the Alliance for ten years, and they pull this. The very day they take my ship, the signal goes out that the Parliment created those monsters... those Reavers. Genocide on the order of thirty million, and monsters besides. Couldn't work for them after that." Zane let out a laugh. "Couldn't work for them? You don't have a ship!" Tony scowled at the young man, shoving an empty bottle toward toward him, "You know what I'm getting at, kid. Can't find work, and don't want it from them." "Which means we slog around hauling water from one seedy asteroid miner to another seedy water-poor rock," Zane finished. A grin spread across his youthful face. "Really, Tony, do you really need to do this every time somebody new joins the crew?" "Set's the stage," Tony ran a hand up his widow's peak. Story was, his hair started receding when he was ten, forming a sharp spike that gave him a predatory look. When he grew older, filled out, the spike contrasted sharply with his pudgy face. Sometimes, it was downright disorienting. "Hey," Syl asked. "You never did mention what happened to my predo... prede... the guy before me." "Got reaved," Zane replied, his youthful grin dropping away into a deathly palor. "Reaved?" "Got took on Whitefall when the Reavers sweapt through about two weeks back," Tony faced the doorway, not-wanting to relive the memory, but unwilling to leave. "See, we never found Verna's body. Weren't for lack of looking neither." Tony's broad shoulders fell with a sigh. "I only hope she died off the take. We know what Reavers do to the living, both the men and the women, and thing's are getting worse." Sylvia drew inward, small shoulders sinking into overstuffed chair, like she was trying to make herself dissappear. "Shouldn't be tellin' the new hires those ghost stories," came the clipped speach of Jacob. Greyson was as close to a captain as could be found on this ship, since nobody seemed to own the tub. "It'll scare them away. Not good for business." Not good for business, Sylvia laughed to herself. No problems scaring the wits out of somebody, so long as it don't get in the way of the all-mighty credit. "'Sides we've got ourself a real job this time," Jacob smiled. "As in, working for a certain Zekeal Fredesa." "Zekeal Fredesa the liberal activist? The man who literally came to blows with his half-brother on the floor of parliment?" "The very same. That should appease your sensibilities," Greyson gave Tony a sharp jab in the copious gut. "You gave the 'Here's how it is' speach, didn't you?" Tony gave a wan smile. "What's the job?" "You remember that Alliance taskforce they sent out after Whitefall?" Greyson pulled up a chair, swinging his boots up onto the table. It was the first thing the Parliment did after the word came out. Four months after. Until that point, it was a storm of figure-pointing and accusation, most warranted, some not. Parliment had ground to a rather gruesome halt, giving the Reavers more than enough time to regroup and attack. If there remained any support for the Alliance, it likely vanished with the entire population of Whitefall. "Yeah, heard about that," Zane said, grin still on his face, despite the gravity of the topic. "Well, y'heard how they haven't been seen nor heard since their deployment? Like they gorrammed vanished. Well, our boy there wants us to find the whereabouts of those ships. Humanitarian, he called it. My guess, he just wants this to be another nail in the Sitting Parliment's coffin." The group sat quiet for a long moment, waiting for him to continue. It became appearant that he wasn't going to. "Then," Tony stepped into the silence, "when do we leave?" The transit to the Miranda Ring (as the region had been recently dubbed) was as funereal as a grave. There was always a little laughter in the Black Jack, no matter the situation. Not now. Something was different. Even if folk couldn't quantify it, they could feel it. The cold touch of a dead hand falling into one's own. Tony paced, as was his habit, in the long cockpit that graced the front of the rather strikingly unattractive vessal. They'd cleared the orbit of Whitefall days ago, beyond all of the worlds beyond it. Seventy odd Earths spinning in the 'Verse, and sixty-nine of them to the Jack's back. But it was not the sheer aloneness that set him on edge. He pressed the button again. First in English, then again in Chinese, a simple message. "There be Dragons here." Nobody had ever mentioned these bouys before. Not the crazies that burn hot along Reaver territory for kicks and thrills, not the explorer companies sending out people they didn't particularly like. Not even Reynolds, the only man in ten years to make the round trip, made any indication of these signals. They were new. And from the look of them, not made by any man of whole mind. Again he checked the scopes for any sign of movement defying solar gravity. Nothing. But there was hardly nothing to see. The deeper a fellow went into Reaver territory, the more one sees, in fact. That does nothing for one's sanity, however. Very few things had ever made Tony quite so afraid before, so afraid as these slowly spinning corpses of the ships of yesteryear. Every now and again, the sun, so distant, lit up one of the hulks, showing the damage done. Much of it was simply collision, grinding of two hulks against each other with nothing but gravity to blame. Some, on the other hand, were far too... precise. He'd passed the third stripped down hulk when he noticed the trend. A great many craft with busted engines drifted whole in the field. In fact, he saw such a diversity in devastation as he'd never have seen otherwise, but once the engines reached some certain threshold of salvagability, the engines seemed missing. Stolen. Some of the better, newer craft were found split just forward of the end, the engines surgically removed. He tried to tell himself it was just the junkers, taking their chances for a quality engine amongst the slag. He couldn't convince himself of that. Not by a long shot. He paused just long enough to overlay his course with the course of the taskforce. Still identical, but no sign of the other ships. Every few moments, he thought he saw something vanishing around a hulk of a derelect, but it was gone long before he could look again. What he wouldn't give for a single missile launcher. "So empty," came the woman's voice, throaty and rich. Tony cast a smile to its owner, a small woman who should, by all rights, be asleep right now. Still, this was more her place than anywhere else. "I could stare at it forever. All it does is make me think of what's due for us." "Come again?" Tony scowled. Anne smiled, a lopsided affair that made her seem more a mischieveous pixie than an able pilot. She slid into her seat and tilted it back, to face wholely the starscape above and beyond. "This is what our struggle amounts to, in the end. We struggle, and we scrape, and we build, and it ends up here, drifting in the black. No purpose, no life. Just... drifting." "Talking 'bout this ship, or its crew?" Anne let out a laugh. It sounded too loud in the spacious room, too loud in the deadness of the Miranda Belt. "Sometimes, Tony, I don't know what I'm gorram saying. My luck, that. Barely out of the cradle and my brain's already fallin' to mush." They sat, in an awkward sort of silence, staring at the stars. What could be said, here in the face of mankind's greatest evil? No god was needed to create these monsters, mankind could do it all on its own. Create something it had neither the strength to control nor the will to fight. All because of a single strand of recombinant DNA inserted into bacterium. The Pax, Peace, in the Latin. And it created peace, alright; the peace of the grave. Anne heard Zane's approach, but couldn't break the silence any more than could the fat man standing next to her. Zane would be up, at this time in the night. He never seemed to sleep, that kid. The ship slipped silently through the field of death and desecration, the furthest fringes of the wild-places in the 'Verse. They had yet to truely try to cut into the heart of darkness, but already, the ship was awake. "You know," Zane said finally. "Even now, I'm glad to be here." Tony grunted. Zane ignored him, stepping closer to the transparent protective pane separating them from the void of space. "I grew up on a world without a sky. Lot of folks my age would already be in hospitals with tuberculosis, lung cancer. The Alliance doesn't even give us a second glance, unless we even whisper about holding back on the fuel-cell quota. Just weren't ruttin' worth it to them, I guess. Blacklung weren't even the worst of it. That place was a prison. Worse than!" Zane reached out, pointing at several of the stars that dared to peek through the mass of wreckage. "Cause even in a prison," he continued. "Folk can see the sky, know that there's something out there. Not us. Sky was brown in the morning, yellow in the noon, brown again at supper, and black at night. Never really saw the sun, just had a general idea of where it was. When I stowed on that Firefly, I just wanted to get someplace I could see the sky." "And here comes the best part," Tony muttered to himself. Louder he asked. "And what ship was that?" "Serenity," Zane replied. "Was her second trip anywhere, and I was hiding in a crate headed anywhere. I open it up when the ship broke atmo, and I spent the next few weeks sliding around in the crawl-space. Met a pretty little mechanic on that ship," Tony made a yappy gesture with his hand, and Anne grinned. "And she taught you everything you know. And then the Valiant Captain Reynolds stormed Londinium and you took your rightful place as king," Greyson interrupted. Everybody looked back to the entrance; he was rather closer to them. Nobody ever heard him enter a room, especially if he didn't want them to. "We've all heard the story, Tony here's probably gotten it five times, as I figure it. Only one who hasn't on this boat is that little one Sylvia or maybe that bay-worker we picked up that don't know no English." "You just delight in interrupting reverie, don't you?" Zane volleyed a sarcastic barb, which achieved nothing. Greyson was not a man easily taunted. Jacob gave the young mechanic a condescending smile and turned to face the oldest of the group. "How far are we along their projected line?" He asked. Tony sighed and brought the overlaid image onto the main viewer, an over-grandiously named piece of technology that measured barely thirty centimeters to a side. "We've about reached were they'd be at the end of day two. Call the purple-bellies what you will, stupid isn't in it. Hell, we should've hit their Wave bouys hours ago." Greyson paused for a moment as Zane let out a low whistle and pointed up into the black. "What's among the interesting?" "I think I saw an intact ship," Zane said, quietly and fingers flying across the consoles. "Tzao gao," Greyson muttered. "What's your thinking?" Tony crossed his arms across his barrel chest. "Boss says we gotta give aid. Wasn't particularly specific as to who, and my luck, he'll haul us in if he catchs wind to this," Anne explained. Redundantly, as none on the bridge didn't remember that particular standing order. It was not a popular one, and ended once with Tony getting shot. "And Niska has a way of knowing these things." The aid they would give would be in no way humanitarian. They would incur a debt on the poor hwoon dahn's behalf to Adelai Niska, and Niska was not a man who suffered debts easily, nor for very long. "Got no time for that now," Greyson said slowly. "We'll hit it on the way back. Drop a Baby." Anne hands flashed along the controls, activating a device that should, if the 'Verse was perfect, not belong on a civilian ship. A panel slid back about half way down the spine of the ugly craft, letting a device stored inside an old coffee can pop out into the vaccuum of space. "Cry, baby cry," Anne whispered. "Make your mamma sigh," Greyson muttered. "Get us back on the line. We still have a job to do." "Uh, boss?" Tony said, squinting into the maelstrom of twisting metal. "What is it now?" "How far are we along the line?" Anna arched an eyebrow at him, but pulled up the picture again. As they watched, the BlackJack eclipsed the marker called 'first waypoint'. Tony had gone very pale. "What's the problem with that?" Tony pointed out the main window again, this time to a mass very close, a shadowed hulk that slowly spun its quiet way in the dark. Anne helpfully targetted it with an external light. "Bars and Stars," Greyson said. "She's Alliance, but that don't mean..." All was silent as she swung the lettering that ringed the ruined form just forward of the engines. Hannibal. IAV HANNIBAL, an Alliance Corvette, dispatched with the taskforce. "Anne," Greyson managed to pick up. "Check for escape pods." She shook her head hopelessly. The craft continued to spin, showing that not far past the engines, the craft simply ceased to be, as if half of the craft were summarily ripped off. Corridors were naked to the harsh nothing, rooms and even a pair of showers. "Where are their emergency beacons? Why aren't they talking to us?" Zane whispered. "Not a clue. Any residual heat?" Greyson asked. Anna's hands returned to their flurry of movement. "Lots," She said. "Whatever happened here, happened recently. Within a few hours. Jakob!" "What?" "It's still leaking O2. That means that at least some of the ship is still holding atmo." "Tzao gao," Greyson murmured himself. "Survivors. Worse than damned paperwork." "And the Alliance will be onto us like Bowden's on a Paradison." Tony grunted. "Residual heat?" Jacob asked. "Everywhere," Anne responded carefully. Jacob frowned, dark eyes darting around the spinning hulks. His hand ran nervously through his hair as he paced back and forth. "Wake up the bay-crew and find us a place where we can lock onto that hull," Jacob said. Tony scowled. "Fredesa paid us to find out what happened to the taskforce. We know. They got Reaved. Let's just get out of here before we join them." "Don't question me on this one," Greyson said, eyes almost striking sparks. "Something's telling me..." "Remember last time 'something told you' to do something?" Zane said quietly, ostensibly to nobody but Jacob fixed him with a glare anyway. "This ain't then, and there ain't any vicious little freaks to put a sword through me, this time. Find a place to dock, and get the medical bay ready. My guess is that there'll be more than a fair share of injured." Greyson was once again struck by how horrible his space-suit smelled. He supposed it wouldn't be quite so bad, if somebody actually took the time to clean it... or if it wasn't being shared out between five people who it happened to fit. "Soft seal confirmed. Cutting in." Zane intoned as his plasma torch burst to life, eating away at the metal. The hearty plating of the military ship took far longer to melt than Greyson would have originally suspected, but eventually the section dropped away with a barely audible bang. Obviously there was still atmo, or there would have been nothing to hear. Still, no use in getting yourself killed when you can avoid it. The corridor they'd breached into was pitch black, no sound dared enter into it after the original clangor of the outside finding a place to rest on the inside. Jacob clicked on his light. "See anything?" Zane called. "Not so much," Jacob answered. He stepped into the middle of the passageway, a cramped affair that two men could not walk abreast in. It was painted a rather unpleasant shade of brown. "Are IAV's usually painted like this?" Tony's stocky frame wedged its way through the opening and took a place by Jacob's side. "Not that I've ever seen." Tony turned to walk away, but Greyson quickly reached out and grabbed the device dangling on his back. "Je shr shuh muh?" Tony pulled the thing away, grasping its grip and heaving the body of the large military shotgun over his shoulder. "What is what?" "What exactly do you expect to find here? The blue devil of Ariel?" "Expect nothing. This is just a contingency," Tony laughed. "Well, in the event that we need to storm the ship, I'll let you know. Zane, which way into the engineering deck?" Zane's lithe form was the last through the breach. He paused for a moment, then tipped back his face-plate. "Oxygen's a bit thin, but our seal covered the hole. It'll hold until we leave." "One day, you're going to open that thing up and get sucked right out," Greyson muttered. "Where's the engine room?" "Just follow me. I've looked over the specs for the Trinidad, and the Trafalger isn't too different," Zane said brightly as he stomped carelessly along the grating. The passageway Zane led them to was almost identical to the one they left. Even the color wasn't altered in the slightest. Jacob was about to turn another corner when he felt Tony's restraining hand on his shoulder. "Dung-ee miao," the large man said quietly, stooping down to pick something up off the floor. He held it close, turning it this way and that. "What is it, Tony?" Jacob asked. "Looks like an entire fingernail. Tip to quick, right off. Must have hurt like a hwoon dahn loosing this," Tony dropped the fingernail and let go of the rail he'd balance himself with. Where his hand was, the rail became blue. Jacob and Tony shared a quick glance, then both pairs of eyes returned to Tony's hand, which was now covered in semi-solid rusty chunks. Greyson reached out and rubbed his hand against the nearest wall. It too was blue, just under the brown. "Makes me wish I had a gun," Greyson muttered. "Got that covered," Tony replied, equally as quiet, gripping tightly now the grip of his shotgun. "Zane, where is that gorram engine room?!" Zane's blonde head popped back around the corner. He'd taken his gorram helmet off again. "Do you guys smell that?" "The engine!" both Tony and Jacob managed to yell as one. Zane shrugged and motioned them to follow. One falsely-brown corridor led to another, this one's 'paintjob' rather decidedly incomplete. It was here that Zane ran a gauntleted finger through one of the many sweeps of brown. "What in the hell?" Zane managed to say. "It's blood," Tony confirmed. He was quite pointedly looking in all directions at once. "But... but where are all the bodies? This would have been..." Zane struggled with the words. Jacob helped him. "A gorram slaughter." "Is anybody besides me not liking this job anymore?" Zane asked shakily. "Sooner we find the survivors, or lack of," Jacob spoke flatly, as if anything more would be an affront to the dead, "sooner we can get the hell out of this fay-fay duh pee-yen, dong ma?" "Come again?" Zane's face screwed up into a bewildered rictus. Greyson stared blankly for the moment it took to remember that the young engineer never picked up so much as a word of Chinese. "You haul ass, we haul ass, savvy?" Tony interpreted. Zane chewed hard on his lower lip, but continued his way down the haul, the the places where the military blue finally overtook the sickly brown as the dominant coloration of the surroundings. Still, the sweeps of discoloration were always there. A constant reminder of what transpired so recently. Still, something beyond the admittedly catastrophic scope of this massacre clung hard to Greyson's thoughts. He simply couldn't puzzle out what it was. He had been mulling it over for what seemed a rather substantial time when Tony caught him up short, motioning him to listen. Jacob heard it almost immediately, a dull wet thump, repeated every few seconds. He stared towards its source, noting with extreme dismay that it came from the room helpfully labled 'Engineering Room' in both English and Chinese. A gun was pressed hard into his thick gloved hand, and he spared just a moment to wince at Tony. "You remember what happened last time?" he muttered, trying to pass off the firearm. As good as it felt to be armed, he knew what was likely to happen. Tony shook his head and stood beside the door that Zane was working hard at hacking. Locked from the inside. Whatever was in there was trapped for hours. Raising the weapon into what Greyson hoped was the appropriate stance, he positioned himself opposite Tony, awaiting the door's breach. Zane gave both men a nod, then wisely got the hell out of dodge. The door swung open silently, exposing another layer of darkness that the two men attempted in vain to fill with their meager hand-lights. The first thing the beams fell upon, a very thing obstructing the door from opening fully, was a body. It was torn and savaged, wearing the tatters of an Alliance uniform. Both men entered the room, casting the light around trying to suss out the source of that damned unnerving noise. Everywhere they looked there were the dead. Fully and just over a dozen wore the greys of Alliance service, bodies and faces torn, played with as long as possible before put down so their killers could do as they did best; reave. Here and there, though, were the remains of something else. Far more mutilated than the bodies that surrounded it in a virtual bubble. The Reavers themselves. They wore uniforms that were anything but, leathers and spikes and bones. Jacob felt himself going numb in a very special way that usually precedes unconsciousness. Tony's offhand smack to the front of his shoulder brought Jacob back into coherence. He struggled to fight down the bile as he moved toward the source of the regular thumping. As he did, he tripped over another body. This one caught him, for some reason. It was a woman, but not clad in the Alliance uniform, nor mutilated in any way aside from the rather large hole where her neck used to be. She was sheathed from head to foot in blood-red leather, almost like that worn by the Reavers. Tony kneeled down just a second, then shook his head. "Son of a bitch," was all Jacob had to offer to the situation. Tony heartedly agreed. Matching almost step for step, the pair pushed farther, into the tiny room that held the craft's escape pods. A mound of bodies, all Reavers, blocked the door, and Tony had to haul the topmost off before they could make their entrance. A wet thump sounded the moment Jacob's foot reached the grating, and his light swung up toward it. It was covered in blood, as if it bathed in it, and several angry wounds stood out upon its skin. Its arms raised again, slamming down to bludgeon the remnants of a Reaver's skull into the deck plating. She (and he was sure, now, that it was a she) had been doing this for hours, it seemed, with no pods left to escape in and nothing but fear and adrenaline to guide her. "Good God," Tony muttered. As if the words shocked her out of her desperate trance, she whipped her bludgeon into its proper conformation, one side down, a barrel facing forward. The slide was locked backward, its magazine long, long emptied. Still, she pulled the trigger six times. Then she released a terrified sob. "Zane!" Jacob screamed "Get a medical kit down here now!" Dark brown eyes met desparate blue, and her mouth twitched slowly, finally corralescing into words. "Help me." Legacy 1:02, Reaved, Part 2 Zane vomitted the instant he stepped into the engineering room. Seeing him do so prompted the elderly bay-hand to follow suit, sending another fluid sluiceing through the grating this foul day. Greyson still felt that something was terribly amiss, and this terrified, wounded, and crying woman was no source for it. The Reavers, by virtue of nobody wanting to touch them, remained on the deck. The bay crew had worked for more than an hour pulling everything of even moderate worth from what remained of the Hannibal's rear-most cargo bay, a task made all the more difficult by the almost lethally thin atmosphere. Jacob now paced in the mess hall, the closet thing the BlackJack had to a medical bed being the mess table with a sheet atop it. There being only one patient made it both all that was needed, and particularly sad. Greyson waited while Jing washed out the last of her wounds and pulled the sutures closed. Just getting the blood off of her flesh ruined four towels and several dozen liters of water. It still bent the mind a bit to think that she was the sole lucky one. "What happened?" Greyson asked, when he could force himself to wait no longer. Her wonderously blue eyes fluttered open, and she could not stop shaking, as if the coveralls that had been found for her were entirely insufficient to keep her warm. "They came in the window and walked away with the house," she answered in a small voice. "They carried away the gunrack and ate the dinner in the oven." Jing leaned over close, "Kwong-juh duh." Greyson shook his head. "Try surviving what she saw with a whole head," to the woman, he asked, "What did they do? How did they overwhelm your ship?" "We walked in autumn through the trees with dagger-leaves. A puff of wind and a thousand shining blades fell upon our heads. They never sleep. They just run and scream and fight. An army of dolls, with glass eyes and nasty toys." "I'm starting to think she was seriously unhinged," Jacob whispered to Jing, who shrugged and finished winding a bandage over a long weal running up the side of her head. To her, he posed another seemingly simple question, "What is your name?" "No power in the 'Verse can stop them. No power," she rambled on, shaking and staring off into nothing. He pulled Jing aside. "She might have been Reaved. Keep something handy 'case you need to be killing her. The Alliance might not be happy with that, but that's the way it is." Jing pursed his lips and nodded. Jacob didn't waste any more time. He stepped out of the mess and made his way to the top of the ship, to the command deck. Anne was already in her chair, leaning back and waiting whatever word she needed to get out of this tumbling hell. "Plot a course, we're getting out of here," he said, and the words had not even cleared his mouth before her hands grasped the controls and began making the large craft turn about. He watched as the corpse of the Hannibal was carried out of sight, as the sun came back into focus. He cast a casual glance at the course. "What the hell is that?" She didn't even glance up from her work. "We left a Crybaby out there. Very least we should pick it up. Hell, that ship might even fly if you love it a'right." "Job's over, Anne, we know exactly what happened." "And this is side-action. More money is good, dong ma?" It was hard to argue with her special kind of lunacy. "Fine, but if you get me killed, I'm gonna haunt you," Anne grinned in her special way as Jacob went back to the bay-deck. This time, he was going to wash that gorramed suit! <> "Soft seal," Zane called. "Locked. Opening inner airlock doors." The four crew in four suits stood in the airlock waiting for the tug of atmosphere being pulled into a vaccuum. It didn't come, and four people stood unable to think of what was happening. "I thought you said that this thing was cold?" Anne asked snidely. Zane shot her a look and stepped forward into the cavernous hold of the relatively small craft. Four beams of light swept about, slowly defining the shape of the bay, flaring upwards from the floor, giving a strong impression of space. A stairway started on either side of the bay, joining in the middle with a platform to form a sort of suspended 'X' "Told you," Zane quipped, unfastening his face-plate. "Firefly." "Zane, what did I tell you last time? Put your gorram helmet back on," Jacob growled. "There's air in here, and the temp is registering at about 280 Kelvins. Nippy, but a lot warmer than we left it," Zane set his helmet on the floor and moved to one of the large cylinders that dominated the floor. "I figure there's another pair of these under the thrust-pods. That'd make this a... '09 maybe? Less cargo for more longevity. Commissioned by asteroid surveyors to find valuable metal in the belts, loved by pirates. Last run was almost twenty years ago," Zane's eyes took on a reminiscent glaze as he turned back to the others. His breath misted around his chin as he grinned. "You ever sail in a Firefly?" Jacob noted that Anne had broken into a full grin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pistol Tony had forced on him. Suddenly, he felt a great deal better at being armed. Something didn't add up. "If you're going to the cockpit," he said to Anne, knowing he'd have to be stupid to believe anything else, "take this with you. Never know what you'll find." Sylvia was already wandering the holds, taking stock of what the crates piled around the massive fuel drums. "Boss?" she called. "What is it, Syl?" Greyson joined her. Zane pounded his way up the stairs to tackle the engine, heading in the opposite direction of Anne. Sylvia rapped hard on the drum, and its echo was muted. Full. She strode over to the other tank, and rapped hard on it as well. Dull thud. Full. She then pulled him over to one of the crates that filled the hull. "Ai ya, wo mun wan leh." "My sentiments exactly," She nodded. "Who abandons a ship with full fuel tanks and more'n a years worth of food, food that'll catch a high price on any planet out of the Core?" Jacob asked. "Maybe a question you should ask is why is there no dust," Sylvia offered. "This air was pumped in here within the last few hours, if Zane has it right, but this place is clean. As in, there's been no settling. Like someone just scoured this ship with soap to within an inch of its existence, then up and left it." "This eerie-ass day just keeps getting eerier, don't it?" Greyson shook his head. As if cued by his words, he heard Anne scream from above. Jacob didn't wait an instant; he pulled off his helmet and let it drop to the floor in his haste to lighten himself for the vault up the stairs. He'd already exposed his hands to the chill of the ship when he turned the corner and pounded down the central hall that led nowhere but the cockpit. When his eyes fell upon Anne, standing to one side of the room, he felt a wave of relief, which was immediately extinguished when he saw the bulky form gesticulating madly inside an armored space suit marked boldly with the bars and stars. The man surged forward, but Jacob let his momentum carry him right into the man's abdomen, carrying both of them down into a depressed veiwing deck. The landing set a network of cobweb cracks into the man's helmet. "I won't be fooled again!" the man screamed, eyes bugged out and bloodshot. "They walked among us, but we didn't see them. I know them now. There's no escape. Not for you," The soldier said. Jacob was shocked when he felt a gauntleted hand pull his pistol out of his pocket. "And certainly not for me." A loud bang sounded, and the cracked helmet began to fill with red. <> She was glad to be free of them, she decided. That farce had gone on long enough. Just wait, she'd been directed, until the next ship comes. They'll send another ship. Not exactly what she expected, but it would do for her purposes. She unbuckled the other clasp and let the coveralls fall to the floor, leaving her toned legs to glisten in the over-ample lighting. She never was anywhere so bright in her new life, until she returned to the Motherland to be Raised. A dull ache worked its way into her temples, but she disregarded it. Only men felt pain. Only men felt weak. A few steps further, she shucked her shirt, letting it fall onto the grating. She felt positively dirty having to wear those clothes even an instant, let alone the hours it required for her to make her move. They were just remnants of her mission, now. Convert. Yes, they bade her convert. Her undergarments were not long in joining the rest of her old clothing on the floor. She wondered if men felt flustered at walking about naked? The idea came and went, and she was almost sure they did. Weak. All of them. Convert them. Only thing to be done. Last to be discarded where the heavy boots. It was almost a baptism to feel the cool metal under her soles again. Naked, she strode into the room where these weaklings took to stacking the bodies. Those they found were only the basest of the chaff. So many more this day had been converted. And the rest, discarded, much like the chaff. A single asian woman looked up from her task, a glance of bewilderment at seeing this attractive blonde woman, with her many angry wounds, striding nude and with great purpose into her cargo bay. The asian woman sucked in a breath, as if to raise a shout, but that would not be allowed. Being nude has one distinct disadvantage, she pondered; one cannot be armed. That said, she made the best of her situation, driving a viperous foot deep into her stomach. Her intake of breath terminated with no real prize to show for it. She sadly missed not having an edged weapon handy. Or better, something blunt. Still, she made do with what she had. Her teeth closed hard on the woman's neck, tearing into tissue and ripping away until they could go no deeper. She felt waves of wet warmth falling on her, and she remembered that day, ten years ago, when she discovered the nature of God. She had been something entirely different then, a housewife to some business executive living on Miranda, when God presented Himself to her. She accepted Him with a whole heart, offering her entire family unto him as a sacrifice to His magnificence. She was one of the first, it was said. Her moment of age long past came and went, and she went about the task of finding that body. She knew they had brought her in here... Ah! There she was. She smiled lightly looking at the Eye of Pax, with a hole through her neck and her pale leather bathed in the blood of the blasphemers. It was a worthy and fitting death. Ordinarily, to earn the right to wear the Armor of Flesh, she would have to create it herself, of her own offerings, but she was a Priestess, now. She had risen high. She slipped the Eye out of her garments and began fastening the cuirass of man-flesh tight about her. It was special, this, a symbol of her faith. A symbol of God. She ran her fingernails through the dried blood, laughing as it sloughed away exposing the pale leather beneath. It felt good to be herself again. It would have been better if she had some Males to assist her, but as she had established, one must do with what one has. She laughed to herself when she found a box-knife hiding under a crate. "What the hell?" a voice came from the doorway. She turned to face this man with a wide smile on her face, for she beheld the majesty of Pax. "The wheat shall be culled from the chaff," she intoned, waiting just an instant before smashing his jaw shut with a fist, then catching his hair twixt her fingers and drawing up his neck, "and the cattle shall be lead to the slaughter." <> Zane came in to see Jacob pacing the width of the cockpit, suit laying discarded in the copilot's seat. "Why in the ruttin' hell'd he have to go and do that?" he muttered, and from the way he said it, it probably wasn't the first time. Anne tried to comfort him, but he could tell she was getting tired of pacing. "The'll be all over us," Jacob laughed bitterly. Reavers, no problem, but he just had to go and die on this ship, he just had to go and use my gun. Registered to Tony, lot of good that'll do, now." "Look, we can dump him out into the field," Anne offered. "This thing ain't any problem of ours, 's I see it," Zane said nearly atop her. "Am I the only one who sees a problem in leaving a soldier who offed himself spinning through space?" Sylvia demanded. "Nee mun bee-jway!" Jacob shouted. He panted, now, and his hands ran through his hair in a sort of mania. "I need time to think about this." "Don't know if it matters, boss, but the engine's spinnin' like it never saw a day off the production line. Can't explain it," Jacob gave a look so level a fellow could run a laser along it. "Like somebody left it for us." "Don't talk like that," Greyson said quietly. "Not again, ever." Finally, he stopped his frantic back and forth. "Fine, our boy here is dead, no use frettin' on it. Drop him out the bomb-doors and get everything squared away. This thing'll be moving back on its own power. Hell, that'll be something good coming out of this fahng-tzong fung-kwong duh jeh." It took both of the men to heft the overweight Fed into the cargo hold, even with the him tumbling down the stairs when Zane lost his footing. They opened the inner doors that dropped straight down and into space, running parallel to the Jack. Jacob released a sigh of relief when the outer doors swung shut and the hiss of decompression filled the chilly air. "There," he said. "Done with. All his blood and chunkies were caught in the helmet. No mess, no questions. Tried to run, got a bullet to him. Easy as that." "Not so much," Sylvia said, gripping the guardrail with white-knuckled hands, looking positively ready to be noisily ill. "You feel like sharing with the class?" Anne said flatly. "Something is wrong, I mean, don't you all feel that. Like something waiting in the woods, something bigger and meaner than we'll ever be. Something lookin' to eat us." "As I said, you know something, state your piece," Jacob offered. She went another shade paler and dropped to a squat. "I don't know, boss... but I can feel it. Something is dangerously sideways up a hoe-tze duh pee goo." Jacob leaned over to Anne, speaking softly. "Why did we hire her again?" She gave him a smile, "You didn't. Niska loaded us with her." Greyson nodded. To the woman above, he said, "I'll take it under advisement. Zane?" The younger man nodded. "The radio working." "Everything else on the ship is, wouldn't surprise me if it was too." Jacob smiled again. "Good, I'll tell Tony to decouple the Jack, and we can take this thing back to Ezra under its own power. Zane, make sure nothing fong luh happens with the engine. Remember, we are all kinds of alone out here." This time, Jacob made a more measured pace up the stairs toward the cockpit, Anne sticking close to his side. She had a particularly devious smile stretching 'cross her face. He raised an eyebrow. "Always wanted to fly a Firefly, not that jing-tzang mei yong-duh garbage scow. I figure when we get unhooked," she leaned very close whispering into his ear, "you and I are going to have to sit face to face and have a little flight." Jacob couldn't help but laugh at the sheer inappropriateness, and at the fact that it was probably going to happen. She had a smutty mind, Anne, and not afraid to express herself when the need took her. He was contemplating all of the naughty little things she would pull when he felt himself being carried toward the back of the bay by a rather substantial force. He came to stop just short of teetering over the guardrail, Sylvia's body pressed hard against his. Despite the fact that their noses almost touched, there was a look of adject horror in her eyes. Her shaking hand reached out and fingered an invisible line that ran from his cheek up through his right eye and ended just above the brow. (Continued in part 2) From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:37:37 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:37:37 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:01 / 02, Reaved, Parts 1 and 2 _PG-13_ (2/2) Message-ID: Legacy 1:01 / 02, Reaved, Parts 1 and 2 by James the Dark jamesthedark at hotmail.com Part 2 See part 0 for header information. "Hands off, jien hwo!" Anne screamed, ripping the taller woman away and throwing her to the opposite rail. She stood between them, her unimposing stature making her seem even more unlikely a protector. "Anne, let it go. Sylvia, today's got us all leanin' hard over the raggedy edge. Go find a bunk and get some sleep. Think you'd need more of it than any of us." Sylvia was a portrait of confusion, but she seemed to take the hint. With a great deal more alacrity than the situation warrented, she bolted up the stairs headed for the crew compartments. Anne opened her mouth, but he forstalled her with a finger. "Not now, please. Just let this one slide, dong ma?" She smiled and nipped his fingertip with her teeth. Rather hard. That was one good thing about her. Fellow always knew where he stood. He didn't speak another word as they went to the cockpit, and Anne took it upon herself to fill the silence. Really an accomplished speaker, he thought to himself. When she gets her mind on it. Jacob casually dropped himself into the copilots seat and pulled down the radio. He flicked the machine on, and was greeted by the low, but steady hum of a working system. "Tony, uncouple the dock-sock, we're ready to fly." "Tony, did you hear me? Uncouple the ship." "Tony, are you listening? "Tony?" "Something's wrong, I take it," Anne said grimly. Jacob ground his teeth for a long moment before rising from his seat. "Gorram it, can't anything go right today?" he shouted as he went down to retrieve his forsaken firearm. As he hauled himself back up to the flight deck, Zane walked in. "Anne, give him that gun. We've got problems on the Jack." "Don't it go to figure?" Zane chuckled, a sound which was so awkwardly out of place that it sickened and died before he was even done voicing it. "Fine, bu'you know what happened last time I had a gun." "I'll be makin' sure my buttock ain't between you and your target, 'f that's what you mean?" Jacob said, striding out of the cockpit. He saw an arm reach out of one of the crew compartments, an arm with a brutal looking shotgun clutched in it. Sylvia hauled herself out of the bunk, now clad in a flak-jacket of all things. "It's like they just upped and left, didn't even take any of their effects. This thing was just sitting there, fully loaded," she indicated the weapon. "Look..." Jacob began. "No answer, going back, maybe Reavers?" she summed the situation in far fewer words than would have expected. He nodded, then motioned her to follow. They all went down to the belly of the ship, Greyson motioning her to a stop just in front of the large inner airlock doors. "This is your spot for now. This is it. We loose this spot, we lost the war, dong ma?" she nodded. "If it don't look much like a man besides his choice of apparel, you put a bullet to him. Better, you put a bullet to the sock and blow him out." Greyson activated the doors, and they slid open with almost painful deliberateness. As he grasped the handle of the door leading to the sock, he paused. Looked back. "If you don't hear from us in ten minutes," he said slowly, "you take that fine weapon, and you come and get us. Don't feel much like being a Reaver butt monkey." "Or a Reaver stew," Zane offered. Syl shook her head and pushed the button that began to close the massive bulkheads. Zane turned to Greyson. "Where do we start looking?" "Number two bay is right through there. Good a place to start as any, and the lift takes us right to the bridge. Come on," Jacob noted that Zane was always about a step behind. He didn't blame the kid. Were it him and Tony, he'd be a step behind too. Jacob opened the door and stepped into the bay they'd used to collect the bodies of the Feds. It contained a great many more than when he left. "Wuh de tyen, ah," Greyson whispered, eyes drifting upward despite his better judgement. He'd played with the Barrel-o-Monkeys as a child. He never thought he'd see it played like this. "Good God," Zane muttered as he entered the room. At least he didn't let out a technicolor yawn. "How long were we over there?" "'Bout an hour." "What could have done this?" he asked, eyes locked on the gruesome fetish that hung, skinless, connecting cieling to floor with sewn-together limbs. "Who else would? We've got Reavers on the ship. Get on the lift," he said. "Now!" Jacob half expected the lift to not work; when it did, he had to stifle a panicked laugh of relief. Still, the thing moved at about the speed of smell, and he felt very vulnerable hanging in space as they moved up the first bay, and into the second. More bodies of friends. Old Jing, wiht his kind words and vast wisdom. That cute mechanic Zane had his eye on. These were scattered about the bay, as if whatever did this hadn't had time to get creative with them. He caught himself thinking that the... thing... below was creative, and shuddered. The lift finally got around to lifting him clear of the mess and into the upper decks. He took the first ladder he saw, climbing higher on the ship until he reached the nose, where the cockpit lay. The first thing he saw when he hauled himself into the bridge was Tony's arm. Then he saw the rest of Tony, leaning against the instruments, bleeding profusely. His legs were lashed with a cord of pale leather, and his arm was strapped behind his head. His remaining arm. "No," he said weakly, "run away." "Son of a bitch," Jacob murmured as he moved closer to his old friend. "Don't worry, we'll take care of you." "Ain't no takin' care, now. Just get out. She's coming back." "Who's coming back?" "She's a Reaver, boss. Always was. We should'a put a bullet in her brainpan when we found her on that ship." "The Fed? The Fed's a Reaver?" Jacob recieved no answer, for Zane let out a strangled shout that went gurgly at the end. He turned with his weapon before him, taking in Zane thrashing on the floor, hands clutching his neck. At least, Greyson saw, the fingers were not wet, let alone soaked in pulsing red. Just a fist to the throat. When did a fist to the throat become a 'just', he pondered? As his gaze fell upon the blond woman in the pale leather armor, he remembered. Jacob didn't offer her so much as a word. He did, however, extend the courtesy of offering her some bullets. He pulled the trigger over and over, five times as he shouted his curses. She smiled when he finished, having not moved an inch. Five shots, and not so much as a graze. He guessed he should'a spent more time at the firing range. With a wide, almost innocent smile on her face, the Reaver surged forward, her left arm arcing down toward him. He felt something cutting, but it wasn't really pain. Pain he expected, but not this selective numbness. He remembered that strange moment where Sylvia ran her finger up his face, wondering if this was the exact same thing, but in the opposite direction. Half of his world went dark. And still, there was no pain. With a shout of rage, he pressed the barrel of his gun to her chest and fired again. She fell backwards, trying desparately to stay alive long enough to get one final kill. Despite her best efforts, she pitched backward onto the deck. "Boss. It's all gone. They've got us dead." Tony said as Jacob numbly cut the strap holding his arm. He moved to cut the staps at his legs, but Tony pushed him back. "Ta ma duh, boss, that's a cruel blow." "What are you talking about?" "Your eye... she got your eye," to explain far better than words ever could, Tony waved his hand from Jacob's left to his right. As soon as the hand crossed the nose, the hand immediately vanished. "Least of your problems. They were waiting out there, the whole gorram time. They knew more would come." "Don't talk, we've got to get you..." Jacob began. "Ain't nothin' you can do for me!" Tony shouted. "The Reavers got all of those IAVs. They've got three gorram warships, boss! And they're all out there. See?" Tony pointed out into the field. Many of the hulks that had been drifting aimlessly now settled out, moving toward them from all angles with a sort of single-minded purpose. "That Firefly can go, we can escape." Jacob pressed. Zane finally managed to catch his breath, rise to a sit. "Ain't no escape for me, kid," Tony whispered. "I lied about a lot of things, Jacob. I fought in the War. I was a Browncoat. I was part of the Seventeen Hundred, the survivors of Serenity Valley. I should'a died out there. I guess my time just caught up with me." "Tony," Jacob shook his head, unable to come up with anything more. "Save yourself, kid. That's an order." Jacob stood up, giving this tired old veteran a salute as best he could considering he couldn't see his right hand. Tony returned the salute, then turned back to the panel. The very first thing he did was destablize the sock, so any movement of that Firefly would rip the damned thing off. "Boss?" Zane asked hoarsely. "Where'd she go?" Jacob gave a quick glance around the cockpit as he brought Zane to his feet. "Son of a bitch, why won't she die?" The Reaver was nowhere near her pool of blood. They found her at the end of the corridor, guarding the way out. Her ching was coated in expectorated blood, and her hand still clutched the box-knife which gashed deep through Greyson's numb face. "Die you crazy bitch!" he shouted, leveling his pistol at her. He pulled the trigger. Click. The Reaver smiled a bit wider. "No mercy," she intoned. A startling blast came from just behind her, tossing her helplessly to the ground at Greyson's feet. Sylvia pulled herself onto the plating and planted her foot on the Reaver's ruined back. She looked up at him, that mad grin still wide across her face. "No mercy," a second blast sounded from Sylvia's weapon, and the Reaver lost the ability to say anything ever again. She looked at Jacob's face and winced, then nodded over her shoulder. <> Tony watched as the Firefly zipped away, defying logic and common sense to navigate the field at highest possible speed. He felt very cold, despite the tourniquet he'd fashioned around the stump of his left arm. He watched as the mishapen freaks of ships drew closer to him, and as he drew closer to them. There, the IAV DORTMUNDER, the cruiser, now under Reaver control. It was trying to follow the Firefly. He adjusted his course to ram it. He felt very faint, now, as the Dortmunder slammed on its brakes, tried to change position, then caught wise to the fact that it was armed. Missiles began to pound into the metal skin of the BlackJack, and Tony watched as that Firefly dimmed down to a dot against the black, to even less, to nothing. "This time," he said, trying very hard to stay conscious, to look the devil in the eye. "This time, we win." And the dying was glorious. <> Greyson was screaming. That wasn't the only thing that slammed together as the ship careened through the black, but it was the most pressing. He'd held his pain at bay with astounding restraint, to Zane's eyes, until he'd reached the safety of the Firefly's cargobay. It was then that his legs gave out and he began to clutch at the right side of his face and wail. It took both Zane and Syl to drag him into the medical bay. "Damn it, they're still on us, they've sent out one of the Dort's gunships!" came Anne's voice over the intercomm "The Alliance is back?" Zane shouted hopefully into the nearby speaker. "That's a big negative. That gunship is running without core containment." "Gorram Reavers!" Zane croaked. Syl had already begun ransacking the medical bay for gauze, but found a box with morphine first. She tossed him the injector, and he gave the boss a good pop of it. Greyson finally went silent, hands falling away from the gruesome gash running down his face and tearing through his right eye. Old Jing might have been able to do something, he wasn't sure exactly what, but as it was, that eye was going nowhere but out. But not now. Now, he needed to stop the bleeding. "Gorram it!" Anne shouted. "They're gaining on us. They'll be able to tangle us if they close much further. I'm overburning, see if that gives us a bit more thrust. Hold on." Greyson clutched the table for a moment, but the lurch of acceleration didn't come. "Something's wrong with tank one; Zane, check it out. Switching to tank two," This time the lurch was severe, almost throwing Zane from his feet and dumping Jacob's legs off the table. He paused just long enough to haul Greyson back up onto the table, then vaulted out into cargo bay. He pulled an omni-rachet from his tool belt and began to unfasten the bolts in the curved side of the vessal. The surface swung down, and he immediately saw why she couldn't overburn on tank one. "Huh," was all he could think to say as he beheld the tank's contents. As soon as his paralysis began, it vanished, and he bolted through the common area, up the stairs and into the cockpit. Or at least, he would have, if the ship hadn't lurched again, sending him flat on his back. He scrambled back up, reaching the cockpit just as Anne screamed again at her intercomm "We've only got one more burst. After that, we're lunch." "Not so much," Zane felt a distinct smile come over him as he pulled down on the paneling above the copilot's seat. As he expected, it came free easily. "I told you this was a pirate ship. Turn us around." "Why?" she demanded. "The '09 was commissioned by miners, and had a mechanism to launch drones at attractive meteors. Pirates loved the '09 because that system was easy to jury-rig into an anti-ship missile tube," Zane explaned as he popped the false back off of the steering controls. As he expected, there was a trigger set almost flat against the stick. "Independants back in the war used to make merchant fleets out of '09s. When the Purple-bellies attacked, they'd open fire then run. Q-ships, they called them. Alliance called to scrap all '09 model Fireflys after the war was over." "So you're saying?" Anne smiled broadly. Zane took his seat. "Turn us around." <> The light was far too bright, Greyson thought. Far too bright, and his face hurt rather badly. He turned his head to the side, and smiled, if painfully, when he beheld Anne perched on the counter a few feet away. "We still alive?" he asked. His voice seemed to come out a bit wrong. "Still alive," she beamed broadly. "Still flying?" she moved to him and took up his hand in hers, kissing the back of it. "We're still flying, baby." Greyson sighed then. She stooped down closer to him. "What's wrong, bao bei?" she asked. "Now," he said slowly, "we need to deal with another sort of monster." And in his head, he wondered how the hell he was going to explain this to Niska. ### The End ### From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:41:36 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:41:36 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:03, A Lesser Evil _PG-13_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy 1:03, A Lesser Evil Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and his crew Pairings: Jacob/Anne, Syl/Elias Summary: If you thought surviving the Reavers was hard, try explaining to Adelai Niska what happened to his first ship. Notes: Contains some sexual references. This story is available at the archive: [20k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/legacy103.shtml From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:41:36 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:41:36 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:03, A Lesser Evil _PG-13_ (1/1) Message-ID: Legacy 1:03, A Lesser Evil by James the Dark jamesthedark at hotmail.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. A Lesser Evil Sylvia paced outside the open doors of the Firefly as the crowds milled around them. She was supposed to be drumming up business, passengers and whatnot, but she was having a rough go of it. She couldn't at first tell why, she was a decent enough form to look at, fine enough face. Still, thought, the people tended to give her wide berth. She looked out at Zane, who was relaxing not too far away, stretched out over a set of crates luxuriating in the late afternoon sun. The crowds would be thinning out soon, and the docks were already a lot quieter than when she'd opened up. And not a single person came in. Not one. Maybe it was that the ship didn't have a name. Or registration. Or a pilot's license. She shook her head; she knew what was wrong. In some sort of dark, undefinable way, something Reaver had seeped into this. Something dark and sinister from out the Belt. Weren't nothing to look at and see, but they knew. It was going to be a damned long flight to Ezra. She walked down to where the sign stood, declaring a ship with rooms to let, and turned the thing off. Not worth spending more time whipping a horse that was already steak. The three-dimensional model of the Firefly warped slightly as the power went out. It distended and flickered, an unnatural thing. A thing alive and unhappy. The image vanished, and she attributed it to an overactive imagination. There was a man behind her. She jumped and let out a bit of a yelp, even as she chided herself for not noticing this rather large man coming out of the crowds. He was staring up at the plating of the ship, the section where most craft would have proudly displayed their names. She wondered for a moment how a man this large and carrying two large cases could have snuck past a blind-man, let alone her. "Where is it headed?" His voice was full and rich, his eyes rock solid when the turned to fall on her. When he looked into her eyes, an expression of surprise, then disbelief, then pensivity overtook him, in that order. She had to admire this dark stranger. He certainly had an overpowering presense about him. "Headed to Ezra," She said, her voice smaller than she would have liked. How dare he? Nobody made her feel all little and powerless. Still, though, she couldn't help but be pulled into those eyes. "Ship have a name?" He asked with a small smile. "Not yet," she found herself admitting. "First run. Don't know what to call her yet?" "So the ship ain't named, but already a she?" his smirk turned to a grin. She felt herself join him. "Got that sort of feeling to her," She laced her fingers together. "You ever sail on a Firefly?" The man's smile dropped off, an overripe fruit off the vine, hitting the ground only to be ignored and left to rot away. "Only once, Syl. Only once." In the back of her mind, she wondered where he'd found her name. "Ain't you gonna ask what the fare is?" The man shrugged. "If I had to ask, I'dn't be able to afford it," he reached into one of his pockets and extracted a small, cherry-wood box. "I ain't takin' bribes, mister," she took a step back. "No bribe, miss, just a little gift," for some reason there was a sincerity to him that wouldn't be denied. He set the box in her hands. "Payment in full on top of it." He turned and made his way up the ramp, pausing as he reached the threshold of the outer airlock. His hand reached out and ran along the door's edge. She saw him utter something, a word just outside the realm of hearing. "Wait," she called. "What's your name?" he cast his gaze over his shoulder. "Elias." <> "That's all?" Anne asked as she spun the engines down to lift off. "One gorram passenger?" Zane shrugged. "Couldn't pick up more. Hell, at least we got a guy who could afford to pay us. I hear them's not exactly a common breed, in these parts." She grunted the admission as the ground receeded into the distance. The sky peeled back in layers, first clouds, then the icy wisps that hovered above them. Finally, they broke atmo and the 'verse reverted to its usual black. Zane turned and walked out of the cockpit, Anne twirling the chair to watch him leave. When he reached the door, he let out a clipped yell. Anne peered over the young engineer's shoulder, and saw Jacob's familiar grin. "Boo," he said quietly. Half of his face was covered in white gauze, most of which was pink-stained. The new doc had better know her craft, Anne thought, or she'd have some sharp words with the woman. Zane pushed past the Boss... no, he was Captain now, weren't he? He pushed past the Captain and moved out into to the bunk-area. She felt the grin which grew in her, stood up and saluted Greyson. It must have been utterly ridiculous, because Jacob chuckled a bit. "How do you feel?" she asked, already realizing the innanity of the question. "Like I'd got a box-knife through the eye," he said with a smirk of his own. "I've had worse." "Really?" She grasped the suspenders that were laid over his shoulders and maneuvered him into her seat. He smiled, light glinting in his one good eye as he plunked down, with her following to come to rest on his lap. He laughed as he spun the chair back around, bringing the black back into his view over her shoulder. She smiled down on him. "Let's go away," she said. "Can't," Greyson's smile dimmed a mite. "That weren't a request," she knew her voice took on a ragged edge. All the better. Jacob growled, trying to begin pacing, but her weight kept him on his seat. "Just that simple, eh? Just take this ship and vanish to anywhere in the 'Verse, is it?" She nodded gravely. "Sad to say, ain't that easy. This is Niska, Anne. Adelai Niska. You put him and a dozen Reavers into a room together, he'll have them sitting up straight and eating human flesh with a fork. Hell, he'll probably join them at the entree." She dispelled the mental image before it fully formed. Better that way, she decided. "There's got to be a better way. I ain't puttin' my life at the mercy of a man ain't got none." "What's the alternative?" Jacob asked. "Run? He'll run us down. Hide? He'll find us. It's what he does. Nobody gets away forever. Nobody." Anne rested her shoulder on Jacob's shoulder, she felt a sob trying to escape. If he went back, Niska would probably kill him. If he didn't go back, Niska would definitely kill him, just take a bit of time a'doin' it. "I hate this," she whispered. Jacob leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. Something rekindled inside her, a lascivious look painted across her figures. Her eyes shone with desperate need as she pulled his suspenders off his shoulders and reached down for what she wanted. <> Sylvia wondered how he could have known. She hated when men could read her, hated that she might be getting obvious. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, to be sure. She turned the thing over in her hands again. It was smooth and white, carved from something like bone, but not quite. Its form was wide bodied and deep chested, legs like trunks of trees and a long snout curling up in an 'S'. She'd never seen an elephant before. It was just another of the myths of Earth-that-was, a part of their ancesteral home that couldn't be brought with them. A creature lost to almost everything, and here it was, a small figure carved out of the creature's own tusk. It was at least three hundred years old. And Elias had given this priceless thing to her. She set it down, real careful like, under the rack which held the previous occupant's sizable armory. She finally pulled out the pistol she'd secreted and set it into its place, looking at the scene as a whole. It was an odd pairing. Symbols of death and a symbol of beauty. She had to know. She shucked her boots and let them sit on the deck as she pulled herself up the ladder and back into the walkway that connected nose to engine. A quick glance toward the cockpit gave her far more information than she ever wanted to know about Anne and Jacob's relationship. She set about ridding herself of that damned disturbing image so thoroughly that she tripped and rolled down the stairway, depositing herself rather gracelessly into the common area. She looked up to where she was standing, and couldn't help but laugh. Her momma always said she was a bit leaky in the brainpan. "She wasn't entirely incorrect," Elias' rich voice came from the shadows at the back of the room. Her eyes adjusted, and she saw him sitting cross-legged in the corner. Had she actually said that out loud? He looked up at her, with those bright silver eyes and smiled. She felt a part of herself melt. Focus, she chastized herself. No time to go moon-eyed. "You know, you've got your own bed?" she quipped. "I know," he said, a paragon of calm and control, "I've already put my things there. I just like this spot. It's a calm spot. Like nobody's ever said a cross word here." She wondered briefly what that meant, but plunged right into the heart of the matter. "Do you know what that was?" "A miniature elephant carved from ivory?" Elias responded. "One in particular that was created in the year 1921 on Earth-that-was?" Her mouth fell open. Six hundred years old? "Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la doo-tze," she swore. "Don't you gorram know how much that thing'd be worth?" Elias smiled lightly. "Not nearly enough," He stood, bringing his full height to bear on her. He was looking rather intently at her again. "You don't know yet, do you?" "Know what?" "You're a Natural," he smirked and moved around her with a chuckle. She reached out and grasped his arm as he passed. Niska smiled lethally as he ran a wicked dagger along his fingernail, leaning very close and whispering... "What in the everliving hell?" she demanded. She realized then, that she was covered in a heavy sheen of sweat, and lying on the edge of the dull carpet that filled the heart of the room. Friday, the ship's new medic, sat sedately in one of the chairs. The Asian woman regarded her with interest. "What are you doing here? Where's Elias?" The woman smiled and shook her head, "Weren't anybody else when I got here," she let out a sudden laugh. "And why didn't you get me off the floor, at least?" Her snicker turned then into a full bodied laugh. "I ain't sly, Syl. Didn't feel like interrupting the time you were having with yourself." "What?" she demanded. "I ain't been," she trailed off as she pulled herself to a stand, feeling the sensitivity of her nethers. What the hell had he done to her? "I'm gonna kill him," she snarled, making her way back to her room. She pulled the handgun off of its spike and thundered to the passenger dorms. Friday gave her a 'you go, girlfriend' as she passed again, and Sylvia threw open the door to the small bunk. He was lying sedately in his bed, reading a rather large book. Without looking, he pointed toward her. "Stand over there for a moment, would you?" She found herself standing exactly where he indicated, with no memory of how she got there. With a snarl, she raised the gun and pointed it directly at his groin. "Put that down," his voice came again, seeming to reverberate in her skull. She'd almost dropped the weapon before she caught herself, she pointed the weapon at him again. He was standing now, his hand sliding down the barrel of the weapon. "What are you doing to me?" she whispered. "I am sorry," he said, his fingers touching hers. "I shouldn't have let you touch me just then. I didn't know it would affect you that strongly." What are you, she thought? "I thought it was obvious," he replied. "Please, put your gun down." She smiled. "Only because you said please. If you're really some kinda Reader, I'm thinking of a number 'tween one and a hundred. "Negative six," He answered without hesitation. She stumbled a bit inside. He was right. "Ta ma duh!" she whispered. "How? Why? Why me?" Elias smiled and cupped her cheek with his hand. <> Zane was woke up when his hammock fell free of the bulkhead just inside of the shuttle airlock. His head managed to break his fall, leaving a new set of stars dancing before his eyes. How long had he been asleep, now? He looked at his wrist. Right, he'd sold that useless old watch. Scowling, he moved along the grating to where he'd left the Bo... the Captain cavorting with the pilot. Shielding his eyes, he cautiously entered the cockpit. "Ah, God! It burns my eyes!" he shouted, then noticed that the cockpit was empty. Of course, the smell of desperation and sex filled the air, but that wasn't quite so bad. Not really. He shook his head and choked back a curse. He grabbed the intercom and dragged it down. "Anne, you mind getting off the Captain and into your seat. Ezra's comin' up awful damn'd quick!" He laughed inwardly as he heard a string of Mandarin profanities coming from the bathroom beneath him, moving out into the hall, and finally into the cockpit. Anne's shirt was hanging out of her pants, and the Captain's pants were being held up with his left hand. "What's this about?" Greyson demanded. Then he looked past Zane and blanched rather impressively. Anne had already thrown herself into her chair and was pulling the ship away from its impending doom. "You got this under control?" Jacob asked. "Just shiny," Anne grunted through gritted teeth. "Course, I could be wrong and leave us very dead in a right-big hole." "See that you don't," Jacob chuckled. He scratched the verge where bandage met face. "Niska's 'Plex is hoverin' 'bout midday, I think." "If we see midday, I'll let you know," She smiled over her shoulder for just a moment. "See that you do," Greyson nodded out the door. As they cleared the threshold, he glanced at his watch. "Gorram if that weren't the fastest eight hours I ever spent." "Last thrust for the damned before he meets his fate?" came Friday's voice from the end of the hall. "Damn, girl," Jacob chortled. "You got a smutty mind," Friday laughed, oh, so very richly as she vanished down the stairs. "I'm telling you, Boss, we're drowning in the estrogen ocean here," Zane ran a hand through his hair. "I'm tellin' you. Ain't a moment of peace with that smutty doc, that Reaver-hunter new hire, and with you shacked up with the pilot." "You sayin' somethin'?" Jacob asked, eye drawing down. "You should really cover up, your chauvenism's showin'." "Har har," Zane mocked. "Ain't what I's meanin' and you know it." "Well, whatever it is, in not more'n an hour, I'll be danglin' from Niska's roof with a fair bit o' m'self lying in a pool around me. And 's I see it, that'll leave either you or dear-little-Anne as the operator of this little boat." "Not too hopeful?" "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Ezra Skyplex, a short stop-over before setting down on the planet. Docking is almost complete, hold on for the bump," came Anne's voice over the intercomm. So she could sound professional sometimes! The clangor of the ship coming to a complete stop coincided with the bay doors slowly coming open. Jacob raised his remaining eyebrow and moved into the cargo bay, pausing in the midst of the stairway 'X' to stare at the the opening doors. "Might not be so bad," Zane hazarded, only to be cut short as several dozen armed men poured through the opening, training all weapons on the pair. Jacob surveyed the situation with an odd calm. He took in a breath of air and proclaimed quietly. "Son of a bitch." <> "Have you ever read the words of Sha Yu?" came that oh-so-memorable voice, with its quiet menace. "Take off the bag." The black bag which had covered his head was stripped away, revealing that almost benign face. He looked more like a kindly old farmer than a fearsome gangster, a mob Don with enough clout to bring down a planetary government if he chose to exersize it. He pushed the small spectacles up his face and smiled, that grandfatherly smile that made so many other men loose control of a bodily functions. Niska smiled lethally as he ran a wicked dagger along his fingernail, leaning very close and whispering. "You had reputation, mister Greyson. Reputation was solid, not gossip," he waved a finger under Jacob's nose. "Now, you come back, and my ship is gone. You had reputation, but now, your reputation is like my ship," Niska gave an apologetic look. "Gone." Adelai Niska snapped his fingers, shouting a command in Russian. Niska's men, just out of eyeshot, turned and left the room. Niska's look softened to one of sympathy and he set the knife onto his table. "This is bad wound, Jacob. Where it come?" Niska asked kindly. "That mission was suicide, Adelai. Why in the ever flying hell did you give it to us?" Niska shrugged. "That is privalige of being in command. Don't need to explain decisions." Jacob shrugged against his bonds. "We found the taskforce. Well, was left of it. They got took by Reavers," Niska took a seat on the edge of his desk, a position he seldom took, and only with those of his closest confidence. He understood why Niska sent him on these kinds of jobs, but wanted to hear it for himself. "So why did you send us on so blatantly lethal a mission?" "I was not thinking you would be dying. As to why I spoke with mister Fredesa, I was," he said, not a hint of remorse in his voice. "Curious," Jacob nodded. Niska leaned in close again, pulling up the edge of the bandage over Jacob's ruined eye. "That is cruel wound. Reavers give, yes?" the old man pulled the entire thing off, examining the wound as it stood open to the air. He counted the stitches it took to keep closed the massive injury, and then recounted them. It was a savage work of art. "Box-knife, yes?" Greyson chuckled quietly. Leave it to Niska to be able to determine what tool was used to make a wound just by the scar. "Yes, to both. And if you don't mind, It's kinda painful." "Must be. These are good stitches," He leaned close. "Not your doing, no?" "Anne brought on a medic when we hit a planet. Wasn't in quite so good a way, then." "A Firefly. I never like them to come here, now. Bad association." "You don't seem to angry about the Jack," Jacob prodded. "You know how much that ship cost?" Niska asked. "A winning hand, with your wife as the stakes," It was a story not told outside the family very often. Niska smiled. "She was not liking that so much, and I was young then. Not so much older than you, I think. That ship was worth little, easily replaced, now." "So, can we get this over with," Greyson asked. "I think I should get out of here before my crew hatches some hairbrained scheme at a cunning rescue operation." "Which is sad part of meeting," Niska whispered. "You were always solid, Jacob. Good to my child, to my family. Always solid. But I have reputation, not so pleasant, I think you know. And if you walk out that door as you walk in, my reputation is less," Niska picked up the knife and placed it over the stitches and his scar. "If you are smart, you will scream." Niska's hand swept down, splitting the flesh back open and making the blood flow once more. Jacob let out a scream of pain that likely carried to wherever the guards were waiting. Niska placed the bescarletted blade back onto his desk and moved to a small fridge that he kept in the next room. He returned with a whole eyeball, brown like his once was, sitting in the palm of his hand. "I am sorry for that, but reputation is reputation," He smiled again. "Good luck, Jacob. Do not come back here. Ever." <> Sylvia stretched out in the bed, watching Elias' back as he pulled his pants back on. She had a most pleasant ache, and still felt rather good about life in general. "You managed to dodge my question in about the most fun way concievable," Sylvia said. "What are you, and why are you doing this to me?" "There are seventy six of us on their leash. Seventy six. You were born free," Elias gave her a look of almost envy. "Enjoy it." "I don't understand." "I didn't at first, either," he admitted. "Just don't let it eat you." Finally fully clothed, he grasped both of his cases and walked out into the common area. She hurriedly wrapped the blanket around her and followed him. She caught up with him in the middle of the cargo bay. "Am I ever going to see you again?" she asked. He smiled then, a brilliant smile. "You know you will," He set down his case just long enough to cup her cheek with his hand. He leaned down, and she readied herself to be kissed again. Instead, he spoke in words so soft they barely reached her ear. "Two by two, they come for you. They are not few, whose hands are blue." She watched him leave with utter surprise. Two by two? Didn't make any sense. "Captain," Elias politely said as Jacob was thrown into the cargo bay by two rather large men. Elias moved onward, vanishing around the corner into the skyplex. Jacob picked himself up and brushed himself off. His face was bleeding profusely from where his wound had been reopened. Greyson smiled as he looked her up and down in her current disrobed way. "You naked under that?" he asked. "Do you need to ask?" she said flatly. "What about you?" "Still flying," he answered, still grinning under the sheets of blood which continued to move down his face. "Ain't much," Sylvia said quietly, staring after the man who'd so totally confused and upended her. Jacob took the moment to shut the ramp and airlock. He'd almost made his way to the stairs when he turned and looked at her again. "Sometimes," he said, "it's enough. ### The End ### From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:45:06 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:45:06 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:04, Legacy of Loss _PG-13_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy 1:04, Legacy of Loss Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and his crew Pairings: N/A Crossover with: Firefly/Serenity Summary: Greyson is loose in the 'Verse, and takes his first job. The job's a bit shady, though, and some 'familiar faces' are going to show up to make their lives a bit more interesting. Notes: Minor spoilers for Serenity Movie This story is available at the archive: [24k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/legacy104.shtml From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:45:06 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:45:06 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:04, Legacy of Loss _PG-13_ (1/1) Message-ID: Legacy 1:04, Legacy of Loss by James the Dark jamesthedark at hotmail.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Legacy of Loss Beaumonde smelled as it always did, of smoke and iron and sweat. He took a deep breath and let it settle deep into his lungs before puffing it back out and giving the city a taste of himself. It was a city that'd eat a fellow whole, given a lick of chance, and he was in for far more than a lick. He looked up at the name of the bar. Yup, it was there, the Maidenhead, just like he'd been told. He was still feeling particularly good about himself when Fanty and Mingo called sent out the wave that they were looking for some help in business. He had only to look at the first room of the establishment to realize what sort of business it was like to be. The man at the cylinder demanded he lock up his guns, to which Greyson merely laughed and tapped his sleeves. It was the universal sign for 'I ain't got weapons, y'idjit', and the shaven-headed fellow simply shook his head. Probably thinkin' poorly of this fellow with the scar down his face. He'd decided to leave his gun on the ship when he almost ricochetted a bullet into Friday's brainpan. He moved down the curving stairway into the bustle and smell of the barroom proper. The leg-show was in full swing, with three pairs cavorting in the window not far from the bar, where he picked up a Ng-Ka-Pei and sauntered out onto the floor. Trying his best to look inconspicuous, a difficult task with his now somewhat memorable face, he sought out where the foppish identical twins would have dropped themselves. At last he found one of them, sitting right next to the fan-dancer. "Mingo," he said politely, looking at the vacancy next to him. "Where's Fanty?" "I'm Fanty," the man retorted sharply. "Mingo couldn't make it." "No," Jacob corrected with a voice kept flat only by the greatest efforts of his will, "you're Mingo, Fanty couldn't make it." "How do you people always tell?" Mingo groused. Jacob smiled broadly. "Fanty's prettier. You said you were looking for help?" Mingo let out a sharp whistle and the fan-dancer rearranged herself slightly, keeping one of her fans blocking a camera Greyson had no doubt was trying in vain to watch them at all times. He turned back to Greyson. "You don't stand out to much, you know that?" the man said. "Don't follow," Jacob replied. "Not your face, lad. Never seen your ship in our harbor before. A ship wit' no name, s'it were. 'S I see it, that means y'ain't long on the scene," Mingo finished with a draw from his drink. "Interesting deduction. Flawed, but not my concern. The job," Greyson pressed. "Don't force me along, lad," Mingo placated. "Need to know what sort I'm dealin' with. Had a world of trouble when the Feds tried sneakin' in a bit back." "What do you want me to tell you? That I ain't no Fed? Done." "Ain't so easy. Y'see, Fanty weren't so keen on meetin' with you. Thinkin' you're... unreliable," Mingo said. "Your lips are movin', why ain't you sayin' anything?" Jacob said one final time. He was getting damnably sick of this. "Right. The job is to intercept a bit of cargo headed to Londinum. Somethin' a bit perishable, if you know what I mean." "I can't say as I do. An' I learned never to take a job movin' you don't know what." "It's a horse," Mingo explained. "Or, it will be." "Come again?" "A sample of goods from one of the finest thoroughbreds in the 'Verse, a champion of champions. You remember Black Wind?" Jacob nodded. Black Wind was the only horse to win all eleven races in the Core Circuit. If memory served, one tube of his goods went for a good ten thousand, to the right buyer. "We don't want the horse, and sendin' you after it would be suicide. We're sending you after his tubes. Clear out the samples and bring them back." "That's the job?" he said. It seemed far too easy. "It will be guarded, but I'll have that bit covered," Mingo said, almost condescendingly. With the sweep of the thing hammered out, the two men began the battle of wits over how much this would be worth. <> Anne waited a good long while outside the Maidenhead. She smiled brightly as she turned down fourth man to proposition her, waving him away with a finger. Most 'ladies' would have taken offence, but she lapped it up with spoon. Finally, Jacob made his way out of that den of vice and villainy, looking as if he'd been dragged through a knothole backwards. She wasted no time lacing her arm through his. He smiled at her appreciatively, and they weaved through the milling crowds back to the docks where their Firefly was waiting to be launched. "We get the job?" She asked quietly, a redundant gesture considering nobody would have heard it four steps away if she shouted. Jacob only nodded, lost in thought over whatever it was that the job entailed. An unshaven man leaned out of the crowd and cried out to her, "Piao-liang de shaojie, bu-li-tah, goo wu..." Anne turned directly to the male prostitute and shouted back. "Je geh ren, de jie ge shr geng shao," The prostitute burst into laughter and waved her on, leaving them be. Jacob chuckled. "Well, you get what you pay for," he uttered. "It's because he's scruffy, right?" She elbowed him in the ribs and walked up the ramp to the ship. Their ship. "You think on a name for this boat, yet?" "Ain't anything springin' to mind, bao bei," he said. "Job's in Persephony. I'll be up in 'bout an hour." "Should I tell Friday to stay out of the cargo bay?" She grinned. "Might be for the best," he admitted as he closed the ramps and called down Sylvia, who'd been setting up the bench-press next to one of the large tanks. She was, of course, having a terrible time of it. Not to keen on machinery, that one. He might have to get Zane to help her before she managed to get it to catch fire. Anne shook her head as Sylvia gave the thing a last kick and pulled down the target she was using in a pathetic attempt to get Jacob able enough to hit something smaller than a barn outside of accident. She made her way up to the bridge, shouting a warning into Friday's room not to come out for about an hour. She heard a string of Manderin profanities as her answer, and she finally sat herself down in her chair. It was a matter of moments before the ship hummed to life. Hummer, maybe? No, that wouldn't do. Too many'd take it askance. She, as usual, was smiling as the sky peeled back and stars winked into life. She laid her course and and let the ship leapt off into the dark. She couldn't help but stare off into the eternal night, remembering a time long past when she would stare up at it from her father's lap. It was the only good thing that he'd given to her, with his bouts of drinking dominating his life. At least he had the decency to take a swim between Three Hills and Boros. For some reason, lookin' up at the black brought her back to the happier times in her childhood. She finally broke her study of the heavens to go check up on Jacob. She'd just cleared the doorway when another bang went off from the cargo bay, followed by a number of spangs. The first spang came from the corridor near the engine, the second off the table in the mess, and the third came from right behind her ear. She turned. A bullet was lodged in the threshold. "Sorry," Jacob's shout came from the far end of the ship. She shivered slightly at how close that was. If only he could be so lucky when he was trying to hit something. She rather swiftly and carefully made her way into the cargo bay. A kevlar cover was over the small panel looking into the airlock, and Jacob was firing rounds into a target at its center. Or rather, he was trying to. "Syl, you really think this'd be the best place to be firin' guns, with a fuel-tank sittin' right under the stairs?" Anne asked when Jacob mercifully ran out of ammo. "Ain't a gun on this ship'll puncture that tank," she explained. Her eyes were shining with frustration, though. Jacob was a slow student. She made her way down the stairs and calmly took the pistol from his hand and slid a new magazine into it. With a short glance at the target, she looked him in the eye and squeezed of eight shots. "Nee ta ma dah tien-shia suo-yo duh run doh gai si," Jacob kicked the floor. "How'd you learn to shoot like that?" She looked at the target; it was a somewhat poor spread, but it was far better than what he'd made so far. She smiled and put the gun back in his hands. "When you're done with your toys, you know where to find me." It wasn't long before he'd caught up with her. <> Zane remembered the way Eavesdown Docks felt, when he'd been dropped here by the last Firefly he'd rode on. It felt busy, warm. Alive. In his head, he went over the meeting the group'd had when the Captain came back with those bags of clothes. "Wait, our job is to steal horse sperm?" Sylvia muttered in disbelief. "Not just any horse sperm," Jacob corrected. "The genetic contribution by Black Wind, Eleven Point winner and the most expensive damned horse in the 'Verse. Each two-fluid-ounce tube runs ten grand at auction, and there's a shipment of it from the Rim to the lockup in Londinum. Just imagine what an equestrian'd pay on the low down?" "Still..." Sylvia said. "Sperm. I'd figure we'd be running food or medicals, or maybe them little wobbly-headed geisha dolls." "Take what you can get," Jacob intoned, the universal credo of them's couldn't get work on the flat. "Still, a piece of property that valuable," Friday piped up, "ain't it gonna be a bit hard to get at?" "That's why Mingo arranged for these," he said, opening the bags. "Oh, shiny!" Zane had exclaimed. "Fed duds!" "Good you feel so shiny 'bout them," Jacob said. "You're going in with us." "Any 'ticular reason why?" "We need to be as ghosts in this. That means no cameras, no doors forced, and no security systems activated. We go in at the swing shift. I don't intend to be here when the sun comes up. That means anybody gets took, they stay took for a bit," Jacob said, rifling through the bags. He finally found what he was looking for. Zane thought he saw a flash of familiar a couple of corners down, and he increased his pace. His current attire was a remarkably well fitting tech's suit, one usually found on them's fixing up Alliance cruisers. He made his way to the corner, catching another glance of that familiar face, this time much closer. She looked back, seeing him for just an instant, before vanishing in a swirl of red hair and lacy fabric. He smiled broadly as he moved off in pursuit. He knew this little spot rather well, and knew she only had one place that she could duck into on this street without bashing down a door. "Just imagine my surprise," he said as he pushed open the door, showing a room empty of everything but her. "When I'm walkin' around in a strange city and behold you." The red haired woman crossed her arms under her breasts, a particularly male gesture she almost never used with men, or so he heard. She also adopted her most acidic tone. "What do you want, Zane?" she demanded. "Besides the priviledge of seeing my darling sister?" Zane responded flatly. His sister growled, throwing up her hands in frustration. "I've got work to do, Zane," she muttered as she tried to push past him. He held her in. "Let me go." "What are you doing here? Last I heard from you, they were diggin' you out of a dumpster on Eden," her flat expression registered a direct hit. "Who's the poor bastard you latched onto this time?" "Nobody," she snarled. "Now get out of my way. I have work to do." She finally stormed past him, her big, fine dress swirling out behind her. Well fancy that, meeting her at a time like this. He continued walking down the road, a long dirt affair that eventually lead to a squat structure that dominated the surroundings, despite the fact that it was singularly unimpressive. The local lockup, where things of worth were stored before going to the docks from private contractors. As he walked, Sylvia appeared beside him, decked out in full Alliance armor. She looked every bit the consummate purple-belly, all the way down to how she stared at everybody around her in disdain. He gave her a slight nod, which she returned in kind. Together, and simultaneously apart, they moved to the gates that lead into the structure. They stood by the gates, Sylvia lighting up a cigar and a cigarette, handing Zane the latter. They made as if smoking for the next few minutes as they waited. Zane's untouched smoke burned up and to his knuckles by the time Jacob appeared from the inside, his long hair swept imperiously back and his back ramrod straight. He looked to have a stick up his pee-goo as large as any in the Alliance. The officer's coat was working perfectly. He opened the back gate and motioned them in. The building was long and downward canted, plunging into the soil and away from the sun. Jacob took the lead, staring down anybody who even shared the corridor with him, with Sylvia hot on his heels and Zane trailing not very far behind. The group came at last to the final door of the corner room. The solitary guard stood at attention as Jacob approached. "Is the product still contained?" Greyson snapped. "Yes sir!" the young soldier replied. "No one has entered this room by this door in the last six hours," the soldier looked about. "Is she my replacement? My shift has been over for fifteen minutes, now." Jacob nodded impatiently. "You are dismissed, soldier." The soldier actually saluted Greyson, an image that had to be stuffed down before he started laughing at it and humping the whole thing up. The private then left, hefting his rifle on his shoulder as he went down the corridor. They all waited until he turned the corner at the end and vanished. Then Jacob smirked slightly and nodded down the hall slightly. Zane took his cue, finding his way to the computer room. His job was to shut down every camera in the building, and wipe the feeds for the last ten minutes. The job just might go smooth after all. <> The job seemed to be going smooth, for a wonder. Jacob punched the last digit into the keypad next to the door and pushed it to. The room was rather long, dark, and decidedly cold. Refrigerated, no doubt. His eyes went down into the dark recesses of the room; his target was so close. With a smile on his face, he turned back to the other door that lead into this room. It was open. An officer was staring at him. He knew. Jacob pulled out his pistol and leveled it at the man, who returned the favor in kind. He noticed Sylvia's gun whip around and point at the dark woman standing next to him. A large scruffy fellow with a decidedly impressive firearm took a moment to spit before pointing his weapon at them. Why couldn't things go smooth? Then he noticed, this officer hadn't called for help, or reinforcements, or anything really. This man looked Greyson up and down, then his grip on his long pistol loosened a bit. This was an imposter. Just like him. "Hey, boss," he heard Zane approach from behind. "Somebody's already shut down the cameras." "Not now, kid," Jacob said, not altering his aim a whit. Of course, he'd probably still miss if push came to shot. Zane, of course, paid him no attention and ducked into the room, oblivious of the group holding guns at each other. "Boss," he said, not even seeming to notice the gun-toting folk behind him. "I think somebody else is in here. I have a feeling who it is." "Would it be the suai, well armed fellow behind you?" Sylvia asked. Zane turned around, managing to pull of a double take in a single movement. "Captain Reynolds?" he said quietly. Reynolds lowered his gun. "Zane? What the hell r'you doing runnin' with purple-bellies?" Malcolm said, face twisting in vague recognition. "Told you I was on his boat," Zane gloated to Jacob for a moment before turning back to Reynolds. "I ain't. What're you doin' here?" "Hey, Mal," the big man snarled. "We ain't gonna spend the rest of the day conversiating, are we? We got crime to do." "Boss, this is Captain Reynolds, Zoe and Jayne. Serenity's crew, ain't it a small 'verse?" he grinned broadly. "Will someone get him shuttin' up, maybe?" Jayne asked gruffly. What sort of a name was Jayne for a man, anyway? "Gorram Fanty's got us played." "Fanty?" Jacob grunted. "Got this job from Mingo." "How's the rest of the crew," Zane had continued, despite Reynold's shaking head. "Hey Zoe, how're you and Wash getting along?" The black skinned woman moved in a blur, slamming the mechanic into the wall with a shotgun against his throat. "I think a bit of discretion in your words might to you a bit of good," Reynolds said. "That woman is a whisper away from initiatin' violence." "Just say the word, sir," she whispered, the sound of a dagger being pulled out of a boot. "Ain't endin' any folk if we can manage," Reynolds chastized. Zane suddenly found himself back onto his feet. "So, what's the outcome here?" Jacob asked. "Captain!" came another voice, female, coming from where Reynolds entered. A kind-looking lass came into the room. "Somebody's already shut down all the cameras! We ain't alone in this'n." "Got that message, Kaylee," Zane muttered. She caught sight of him and pushed past Zoe to give him a big hug. "Ain't you just a sight for sore eyes!" She smiled broadly. It looked real natural on her. She was built for smiling, Jacob decided. "What you been up to?" "This and that," Zane answered. "Wait, if we didn't shut down them cameras, and you didn't," Jacob began, but Malcolm's gun-arm swung up again, pointing at something he couldn't see in the darkness. "Just step forward nice and slow, missy," Malcolm demanded. When he saw who carried the rack of tubes, his jaw fell open. "Saffron!" he grunted. "Saffron?" Zane asked, then he saw her. "Sis?" "Hello, honey," Zane's sister purred, giving a sly look to Reynolds. "You actually married my sister?" Zane laughed. "Son of a bitch?" Reynolds murmured, face a study in befuddlement. Stole the words right out of Jacob's mouth. Saffron smiled then. "Can't blame a girl for trying." "Did she marry one of yours?" Malcolm asked. "What? Oh, god, no!" Zane answered. "Might be the only men in the 'Verse who ain't," he admitted. "Wait, how'd you get in here, sis?" "Something tells me," Malcolm smirked, "the man who should'a been here is gonna spend some time in 'the special hell'. Saffron rolled her eyes. "Wait, she's your sister?" "Much as I hate to admit," Zane snorted. "That mean you know her real name?" Mal chuckled. "Mal, honey," Saffron took another step forward. "Sweety, you don't need to do this." "One step more, Yo-Saf-Brige, and I'm puttin' a bullet to you," Mal warned. "How are we gonna do this?" Jacob asked. "How 'bout," Jayne interjected, "we drop these idjits, crack the pretty miss, and get the guay out of here before the real law show up?" "Fanty never said proper how many he's lookin' for, did he?" Jacob said. "Ain't gave me a number, no," Mal said, not altering his aim at Zane's sister in the slightest. "Well, we got twelve shots of high-quality, high-priced sperm," Greyson turned to Zane and Kaylee, both of whom started giggling, "Bi jway! And that's enough to split. We all walk out of here with a payday, ain't nobody takin' a bullet, dong ma?" "Weren't that just inspirational?" Mal quipped. "But what do we do with her?" he waggled his gun at Zane's sister. "Gotta have a diversion," she offered. "Else the Feds will know one, or both of you, ran off with their prized goods." "Ain't lettin' you out of sight with my payday," Zoe hissed. Her gun stood in a rock-solid hand. She'd lost something, Jacob thought. Something that hurt her bad. Sylvia let out a yelp and turned around, three guns following her. "What happened?" Jacob asked. Sylvia shook her head. "Ain't rightly sure. Thought I saw someone. Little girl. Never mind." "Weren't going to," he said, then turned back to Reynolds. "What's on the mind for a distraction?" "Well, I could," Saffron began, but Mal ran right over her. "Jayne," he said loudly. The big man perked up a bit. "You got a grenade?" Jayne burst into a viscious grin, and reached into his pocket. <> The explosion wasn't extraordinarily big, but was enough to cause most of the people in the area to scatter in fear, especially when three purple-bellies and a tech came dashing out, hauling a wounded officer and a woman, with another man with a long scar down his face was shouting orders and profanities at anybody who dared to come close. A local militia man stumbled to a stop in front of the scarred man. "What the guay happened, sir?" the soldier asked. "I'd whip you for language, grunt, but we've got bigger problems. There's been an attack at the lockup," Jacob said, waving the others ahead of him. "Who was it?" "Gorram Separatists, likely as not," Jacob snarled. "Get down there and dig out the mess, and make sure they don't get into the vaults." "Aye sir!" the soldier saluted then bolted down the street into the massively unimpressive vault. "Idiot," Jacob whispered to himself. He'd have run back to his ship had he could, but with the uniform on, the best he could manage was a ground-eating march, the look on his face somehow parting the crowd in front of him. When the crowd had thinned enough, he ducked into the side alley and began tearing off the uniform. It was getting damned hot under that thing, especially with his street-clothes still on 'neath them. He wrapped the clothes into a ball and went back into the streets. Smooth, he thought? Well, almost smooth. Now he had to figure out what to say to Mingo. <> "Take us out of the world, Anne," Jacob said as he made his way up his ship's ramp, coming to a rather unpleasent stop when he realized his boat had a few more on it than when he'd landed. And all three of them were holding guns. "Weren't thinkin' on runnin' off with our payoff, were you?" Mal asked. "I don't have it," Jacob said. "It ain't in my pretty little hand," Mal said, thumbs hooked behind his gun belt. Sylvia chose that moment to make her appearance, throwing Zane's sister rather unceremoniously to the grating. She barely caught herself from falling, a barely which became a didn't when Syl pushed her again, sending her tumbling down the stairs onto the platform. Sylvia straddled her and held her head down. "Shuo huang bu mai yin tried to make off with our shuttle," Syl shouted. "And she had the tubes with her." "Guess she really does like shuttles," Zoe said, deadpan. Mal gave her a surprised look. "Well, slap me in the face," Mal said, a small smile in his eyes, if nowhere else. "You just made a joke." "Won't happen again, sir." "Ain't helpin' us very much. What're we going to do with my darling wife?" Mal was very close to laughing. "We can't leave her," Jacob said. "My swingin' cod we can't!" Jayne bellowed. "Feds, Jayne," Zoe explained. "We drop her, she sells us out inside four minutes." "I ain't letting you harm her," Zane pointed out. He snapped his fingers. "Wait a minute, what was it you said you's gonna do to Kaylee one day?" "Duct-tape her mouth and throw her in the hold for a month?" Mal was smiling now. "No, you wouldn't," Saffron said against the floor. "Oh, yes, he would," Jayne chuckled. Jacob threw up his hands. "You want her, we'll even bag her for you. Unless you got some reservations, Zane?" Zane beamed widely. "She was always a brat. Get Friday to dope her, and drop her somewhere nice." "How brotherly," Mal said as Syl handed down the tubes to Jayne. He turned to Zane. "What'd you say her real name was?" Zane shook his finger. "I didn't." <> "Hey Cap'n," Zane said from the back of the bridge. The words dragged him out of the shallow sleep he'd drifted into. He sat up in the copilot's seat where he'd dozed after the long day's work. "What's eating you?" he asked, still wishing he'd been left alone. Anne was a nice thing to be had, but only in moderation. "I think I know what to call this boat," Zane said, running his hand along the metal innards of the creature. "Thought long and hard on it, and I think it'll be perfect." "And?" Zane smiled slightly as he looked into things beyond the realm of sight or touch. "This ship, this Firefly, is the legacy of all them couldn't be here. This is Old Jing's legacy, Tony Chao's legacy. Of Zoe's man, Wash. This is the last bit connecting us to all them." "This ship is the legacy, eh?" "Only reason we're here is 'cause we set foot onto this boat. We stayed behind on the Jack, that Reaver-bitch'd split us just like the rest of them. They gave us this ship, so we'd stay alive," Zane continued, as if he never heard the captain's remark. "The Legacy," Jacob nodded. "No, not 'the Legacy," he said. "Just... Legacy." Jacob thought for a long moment. Legacy of them's couldn't be here. Yeah. Legacy. It was perfect. ### The End ### From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:47:43 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:47:43 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:05, Timebomb _PG-13_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy 1:05, Timebomb Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the crew of Legacy Pairings: N/A Crossover with: Firefly/Serenity Summary: Well, wouldn't you know it? Greyson finally gets some legitimate work, and something just have to come along and mess it up, don't it? Now, they've got to get their stories straight, or the Alliance will grind them into dust. Notes: N/A This story is available at the archive: [27k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/legacy105.shtml From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:47:43 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:47:43 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:05, Timebomb _PG-13_ (1/1) Message-ID: Legacy 1:05, Timebomb by James the Dark jamesthedark at hotmail.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Timebomb The light was harsh, its whiteness searing into Sylvia's eyes as the Alliance man paced up and down the length of the room, in front of the two-way mirror that undoubtably had a horde of people behind it. She rubbed her temples with her thumbs, trying to work away some of the ruthless ache that had worked its way into them. Today had been a gao tsao duh day, with Legacy as the dog. She kneaded her brow with shackled hands, and watched as the man finally took a seat, letting a file-folder drop in front of him. "You seem to have had an interesting day, miss Witherell," The man said in his most 'you can talk to me' voice. He leaned in close. "And as I see it, you all have quite a bit of explaining to do." "Really?" she asked, glancing up into the burning light. "Why don't you tell me what you know about yesterday's events, see if we can determine where the responsibility lies?" She already knew where the responsibility was going to fall, but she started talking anyway. <> For some reason, being in a full ship made her feel damned uncomfortable. She was usually the first to welcome folk into her house when she was young, always in the heart of the crowd. But now, with the holds full of sundries and the bunks full of people, she felt like she was practically going out of her skin. Her eyes stayed down, and she shuffled to the table. She could hear the loud conversation of those around her, but something else tickled at the background, like an earthspinner pushin' through under her feet. She glanced around. Everybody was too happy. Too alive. Weren't right. Then again, nothing seemed to be entirely right since she laid eyes on that Elias. Her Elias. Two by two? Comin' in fours, then? Or just two abreast? And who was coming? Still, she couldn't help but skake her head at the meeting. She talked to a Reader. She touched, loved, and tried to shoot, a Reader. A creature right out of science fiction. She hadn't told anybody of course. They'd just send Friday to dope her and drop her on the first rock with a looney-shack. Still, she wondered idly what he must have felt in this little boat, sliding along the black? The conversation washed around her, and she remembered the feel of his large hands. "What?" She asked, realizing that she'd been brought into the conversation. Zane nudged her with his elbow, and she looked across the table to the rather suai man who just asked her... something. "I was asking what sort of things you people haul, cause those tanks seemed kinda big," he said. Somethin' weren't right about him, though. Was it that he was irritated at having to repeat himself? Maybe he just assumed she was a complete back-berth and not worth his time? "This's a midbulk freighter," Zane explained, leaving her to continue picking away at her meal. "She'll take whatever can fit into her. This'n's outfitted for fluid transport, more than anything else," Zane lied. He gave her a look, then continued. "Thing is, them tanks can be rigged to dump into the engine, makin' them perfect fuel reserves." "Fuel reserves?" the man said suspiciously, before shrugging slightly and skewering a tomato on his fork. The family had not spoken on this topic till now, when the husband piped up. "What happens if someone were to shoot them tanks?" he asked cautiously. His wife swatted him across the shoulder anyhow. "Gunfights don't happen on my boat," Jacob said. "I don't let 'em." The father seemed placated by this, and he and his three ilk turned the conversation to other things. She took another bite of the tomato. It tasted disturbingly like dust. She took a drink. Dust turned to mud. She raised the bright fruit to her nose, taking a whiff. Smelled just like any tomato, so she hazarded another bite. Dust. She shook her head. Things just ain't been right since that astoundingly pleasant mid-morning. Things been... akimbo, she thought the word was. Bent. She pushed away from the table, waving off the well meaning but unanswerable questions that wafted up from the table. The air was humming, now, an alien song played on alien instruments. She wandered into the back of the ship, toward the engines. This had a different sort of rhythm to it, a steady beat of a heart. It was still not what she was looking for. She just wanted some quiet. Some peace. She was in front of the infirmery before she realized it, staring at that shadowed spot where she found Elias. What was it he'd said? Like noone'd ever spoke a harsh word there? She kneeled in the corner, crossing her legs as she'd seen him. The humming dimmed away, falling off of her in layers until there was utter silence. Oh, she could still here the conversation as it drifted down from the kitchen, she could still hear the hum of the engine, but in some undefinable way, the 'Verse had gone silent. She closed her eyes and let the silence wash over her. When she opened her eyes, she saw Jacob lounging in the chair next to her. On his knee was an old book, lore of Earth-that-was. Strange, she never took him for the historical sort. "Don't you have captainy things to do?" the words came out more harshly than she expected, and she winced inside as they left her mouth. When was she going to learn some gorram self control? "Not so much," Greyson murmured. She doubted he even picked up on the tone. "You left in a guay of a hurry, back there." She shrugged uncomfortably. "Needed some time alone, I guess." "Not to alone," Jacob nodded into the racks of beds not far away. "Mom and Pop put the little ones away not to long ago." Really, she thought. She hadn't heard a thing. Maybe she was so intent on hearing nothing that it was exactly what she got. She shook her head, trying to get the cobwebs out of it. Weren't no good to anybody if she was asleep at the switch. "He really spun you, didn't he?" Jacob said. "Shuh muh?" she asked. "That big guy with the grey eyes. 'S I recall, he was the only passenger at the time?" "What of him?" she was feeling kinda trapped, now. "You're afraid that he done something to you, gave you something you can't get rid of," Jacob smiled at her then. A real reassuring smile. It fell far short of the mark. "But you're startin' to worry that maybe you don't want to give it back. Maybe you want to keep it, your own little treasure." "I'm not sure what to say," she said. "I've seen it before," Jacob said casually. "Really?" she scrutinized her captain a bit more carefully. She hadn't been in Niska's employ long before the whole lot of them bolted. She didn't know Greyson as well as the other two did. "When?" Jacob smirked then. "Shouldn't feel beholden to a fellow just 'cause he gives you a trinket from Earth-that-was." She felt a grunt trying to escape. The elephant. She had to restrain herself from sighing with relief. "I know," she said, working on the story as she went. "But it was damned nice of him. And those eyes, ain't never seen eyes like that before." "Something that made you get nekkid with him?" Jacob said jokingly. She forced a smile, guessing he was just ribbing her. "We already got Friday's smutty mind to deal with. Don't need yours adding to it," Jacob rose from the long sofa and moved to the stairs. She settled down and began filtering out the noise again when Jacob's voice came again. "Really should exercise a bit of discretion when dealin' with Readers," his voice was very soft, possibly how it cut through her guard. She looked up at him, but he was walking away. He wasn't even looking over his shoulder. She shrugged uncomfortably and closed her eyes again. Even in the dark, she could feel the room was a lot smaller, and crushing in with every breath. She was gettin' sick of all the not knowin', all the not understandin'. The silence pushed in on her, just the same. She was shocked to her senses by a sound rather like a gunshot. She sat in a daze for a moment, trying to collect herself when she heard four more. She bolted from her seat, racing up the ladder when a fourth came, followed by the sound of a thump. She vaulted over the cleared dinner table and charged into the bridge corridor. Two men lay dead, and Jacob was screaming Anne's name. <> "So let me summerize, shall we?" the officer said. "You didn't like the company, so you left and spent some time down in the common area." "That is correct," she said. "Where you armed?" "Right then? No." "Are you usually?" he asked. "Armed or unarmed?" "Unarmed?" he pressed. "Not so much," she answered. "And you did not lock your room?" "Don't reckon I did yesterday. I don't often. It's a flaw I have," She stared defiantly back at him. "And this," he slid a picture of a firearm toward her, "is your gun?" "It is," she replied. "You are aware that this is the gun that killed an undercover lawman?" "And put a bullet into Anne's brainpan," Sylvia uttered bitterly. "Yes." "Besides breaking into your room and stealing your weapon, is there any other reason he could have for being in that part of the ship?" Syl shook her head. "No idea. Maybe he was visitin' Friday. She's got a bit of a streak to her." "I believe," the officer said, "that will be all for now. Take her to a holding cell for a bit." The guards stood up and led her away, and he fingered through his notes. A knock at the door revealed his superior, who nodded for him to follow. "Lieutenant?" the man said. The lieutenant followed, and the captain started to speak. "Did she give you any sort of indication as to what happened on that gorram bucket?" the captain was a veteran of the Unification wars, and didn't have much of the sophistication that most did, nowadays. Were the military just a bit more political, he'd have been placed on 'early retirement' a damned long time ago. "Not much," the lieutenant said. "She stayed clear of the current batch pretty well from the start, and only came onto the scene once the shooting had stopped. We could charge her with criminal negligence leading to death," he offered. The captain spat. Spat! "Don't be an idiot, Dave," the captain growled. "Can't charge a woman for having a man break into her room, steal her things, and kill a man with them. Blood's on his hands, not hers, and wanting it ain't going to make it so. Hell, her prints ain't even on the gun, only our man and his target's." The lieutenant was shocked. "Somebody has to be held accountable!" he said. The captain looked him square in the eye. "Somebody already has. He's on a slab right now getting a slug pulled out of his heart. You want to continue this innane inquisition, be my guest, but you are not getting any support from me," the captain stormed away. The lieutenant wondered how a man so decorated and stalwart in the defense of the Alliance could be so cavalier. He entered the next room. "Course, if you run that tertiary round the converter and port it right into the dorsal feed pump," the young man was rambling. The current interrogator was obviously out of his depth, "you can avoid the forward grav-boot assembly altogether, and that makes for a cleaner burn when you need that extra little bit of thrust." The interrogator turned and beheld the lieutenant with a very clear 'oh, thank God' look on his face. "Did you find out anything useful?" the lieutenant asked. The interrogator shook his head quickly and left the room. The lieutenant took his place, dropping the file folder onto the desk. "Now that you're done insulting the construction of our engines, would you mind going over the events of the twenty-second?" <> Zane had the duty of cooking that night, which was just as well for the passengers, as he was probably the most able one with a skillet aboard. He couldn't exactly say why, but he liked cooking almost as much as he liked this Firefly. He was making something. Something that'd be enjoyed. With flick of his hand to keep this hair out of his eyes, he went back to stir-frying the assorted vegetables "Hold on, say that again?" he said over his shoulder as something particularly absurd crossed his ear. The rather over-kept fellow grinned broadly, leaning over the table to repeat himself. "Like I was saying, I spent about four months on Liann Juin a while back, and I came upon a community who's primary source of entertainment was juggling geese." "Geese?" Noreen scoffed. "People juggling geese? Must have been dead." "Oh, no," he claimed to the farmer's wife. "They were very much alive, just weren't much older than goslings, to be truthful." "So they just juggled these goslings for fun?" she asked. "They had their annual Gosling Juggle championship while I was passing through. I've never seen that sort of mastery at slingin' live infantile fowl in my life. You haven't lived until you've seen the Huggetts keep seven in the air between the two." Noreen let out a laugh. "I suppose then I haven't," Zane turned with the meal out before him, carefully setting it onto the mat they'd placed over the bullet-notch Jacob'd put there a week back. "Jing tsai!" she cried, immediately snatching up a juicy tomato from the mix. "Good?" Zane asked as he began to fill his own plate. She gave a raptured expression that had her husband chuckling. The grey-haired man waved a comically warning finger at Zane, who did his best to look intimidated. The whole gorram thing was a silent play-of-errors, of which Anne and Jacob only saw the end. "Zane, you been makin' trouble for our fine, paying guests?" He said, pulling out the chairs at one end of the table. Zane smiled around a slice of cucumber, and Jacob lashed out with a for, skewering a sliver of chicken. Rooster weren't good for much else. "You'll have to forgive my mechanic; he has a habit of walkin' tall through a short door." "No worries," Noreen's husband placated. "'S long as he keeps his wiles away from my Noreen, I'll let him be," Zane gave him a courteous nod, which the man returned in kind. He heard Syl's chair being pulled out, watched her place some food onto her plate. She wasn't exactly lookin' too well. The pretty-man next to the farmer leaned forward. "What sort of things do you usually haul?" he asked Sylvia. Slippery as an eel, that one. Sylvia's head snapped up, glancing about trying to regain her bearings. Her eyes didn't seemed to be focused on anything in this room. Zane gave her a nudge. "What?" she managed through her stupor. "I was asking what sort of things you people haul, cause those tanks seemed kinda big," he repeated, obviously unhappy at having to do so, so Zane interceded on her behalf. "This's a midbulk freighter," Zane explained, making sure he didn't revert to that technical zip-language that nobody but other metal-heads understood more than a hint of the time. "She'll take whatever can fit into her. This'n's outfitted for fluid transport, more than anything else," Zane lied. He gave her a look to make sure she didn't interrupt him. When it was readily obvious that she wouldn't, he went on. "Thing is, them tanks can be rigged to dump into the engine, makin' them perfect fuel reserves." "Fuel reserves?" the well-kept one said, stealing a tomato from the farmer's plate. The farmer, distracted by the subject matter, didn't even notice, and spoke up. "What happens if someone were to shoot them tanks?" he asked with a great deal of worry. For his trouble, he was awarded with a swat in the shoulder from Noreen. "Gunfights don't happen on my boat," Jacob said simply. "I don't let 'em." Sylvia chose that moment to make a face and stand from the table. "Something wrong, Syl?" Zane asked, but she just waved it away and stumbled into the back of the ship. "What was that about?" Jacob was still, vegetables waiting on his plate as he watched her move uneasily down the stairs. Finally, with her out of sight, he took a bit. "Don't know," he said. "Might have to saunter over and take a look." Greyson quickly finished off his plate and whispered something to Anne, who shrugged and returned to the cockpit. Jacob waited a long moment before standing at the table. "Feel free to go back to your rooms when you want. The kitchen'll be open for a while yet. We'll be landing in the AM, but I figure y'all be gettin' rather tired." Jacob scootched around the bunch and made his way down to the common area. Zane didn't give another thought to him, or indeed anything else besides eating, which continued in silence. When the meal was over and Friday was saddled with the chore of cleaning up, Zane made his way to his bunk, glad to finally have the smell cleared out of it and made livable. He had a feeling that food was rotten before it got abandoned in the Miranda Belt, and the return of air just brought out the stench. He pushed down the hatch when he noticed that Sylvia's door was open. Best of his knowledge, she was still downstairs, since he certainly hadn't seen her come back up. He dropped his boots into his room, letting them land loud as they willed and snuck over to her room. He wondered why he was doing it, for just a moment. Thief? Too small a ship. Closet pervert? She'd lock the door before getting undressed, and kill anyone thought he could snatch a peek. Still, that door shouldn't be open. He slowly descended the cabin. Immediately, he saw the man's back, turned away and staring at something in his hands. Zane glanced up at Syl's gunracks, noting that one was missing. "Son of a bitch," Zane muttered. The man turned about, something bright in his hand. Zane leaned back out to the hatch. "Boss, we got..." He'd only managed that much when the intruder kicked him in the stomach. With his breath gone beyond all retrieval, Zane dropped to a knee. It was just about then that something very hard hit him in the right temple. <> "So you didn't see anything relating to the shooting?" the liuetenant asked. "Concussion can do that to a fellow," Zane grinned, holding the ice-pack to the shiner he'd developed on the side of his head. "Jing-tzang mei yong-duh," the lieutenant swore. The engineer grinned hopefully. Didn't the boy know a word of Manderin? Probably not, he considered. The Captain chose that moment to make an appearance. "The medic is telling the same tale as the rest. What did you get out of this one?" he said. "The man who stole the gun knocked him out. Medical claims its true," the lieutenant grudgingly admitted. A soldier took the youth away. "So you're sayin' it's our man who gave him that beatin' upside his head?" the captain asked. The lieutenant wracked his brain looking for another answer. "Just give me some time with the last one, he was actually there," the lieutenant implored. "We'll get the truth out of him." "There's no 'we', here, lieutenant," the captain growled. "I don't trust your objectivity. I'll be taking the last interview, and if you behave, I might just let you sit in on it." The lieutenant ground his teeth. What was that man thinking? He was the best at getting information out of people. He never failed. Had he been on the lines at Hera, Serenity would have been every bit the cake-walk it was predicted. "No," the captain said to his inferior's unspoken complaint. "Live with it." The captain waited until the lieutenant had seated himself in the observation room, looking in on the spartan space before he made his entrance. What both beheld was not exactly what they'd expected. They'd thought he'd be sweating it out under the lights, maybe pacing the room. But instead, he was laying out atop the table, his shackled hands behind his head as if taking a nap. "Captain Greyson, I presume?" the captain said. Greyson looked over, grinned, and returned to his comfortable position. "You're gonna be out of a job, soon," the rogue Captain responded. The captain's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?" Greyson shifted himself until he was propped up on an elbow. "Fredesa's party got in, you remember?" the captain nodded his knowledge. "And he called that big referendum, dong ma?" "Get to the point, mister Greyson." "While you were grilling my crewmates, the results just came in. Hera's going to withdraw from the Alliance. Congratulations." "I fought for the Unification," the captain began, but Greyson swung his legs to the edge of the table, cutting him off without speaking. "Would you do the same, now?" he asked quietly. "Shuh muh?" "Knowing what you do now," Greyson whispered, "would you do it all again?" The captain's back was to the lieutenant, so he couldn't see his superior's response, nore could he hear it. Greyson certainly made no mention to it, rather sliding off to take his seat. "So," Greyson said. "You want to know what happened yestarday." <> "Zane, you been makin' trouble for our fine, paying guests?" Jacob said, trying to look enthused at the meager offering. "You'll have to forgive my mechanic; he has a habit of walkin' tall through a short door." "No worries," the farmer said. "'S long as he keeps his wiles away from my Noreen, I'll let him be." "What sort of things do you usually haul?" that pretty boy asked Sylvia. Sylvia's head snapped up, but Jacob could tell she wasn't exactly in the moment. "What?" she managed through her stupor. "I was asking what sort of things you people haul, cause those tanks seemed kinda big," he repeated, annoyed at repeating himself "This's a midbulk freighter," Zane explained, prompting Jacob to completely tune him out. He nibbled on some of the odd-tasting chicken and let the conversation swirl around him. "What happens if someone were to shoot them tanks?" the farmer asked. "Gunfights don't happen on my boat," Jacob said simply. "I don't let 'em." Sylvia, with none of her usual vitality, stood from the table. "Something wrong, Syl?" Zane asked, but she just waved it away. "What was that about?" "Don't know," he said. "Might have to saunter over and take a look." He cleared his plate as best he could, then leaned over to Anne. "Make sure we don't hit the planet, this time?" he whispered. She gave him an indulgent look, then made her casual way to the bridge. Jacob stood and said his piece about where the passengers should be, then went down after Syl. Somethin' about her today just weren't right. He found her almost immediately, sitting in an abandoned corner of the common area. He waved his hand in front of her face, but her face was slack. Shrugging, he picked up a book and started to read. He'd been there rather a long while when the mother of that family... Noreen, her name was... shuffled her children off to bed, then returned back up to the kitchen. "Don't you have captainy things to do?" Syl asked with a touch of harshness to her "Not so much," Greyson murmured. He chose to ignore the tone and put the book down. "You left in a guay of a hurry, back there." She shrugged. "Needed some time alone, I guess." "Not too alone," Jacob nodded into the racks of beds not far away. "Mom and Pop put the little ones away not to long ago. He really spun you, didn't he?" Jacob said. "Shuh muh?" she asked. "That big guy with the grey eyes. 'S I recall, he was the only passenger at the time?" "What of him?" there was a trapped look in her eyes. "You're afraid that he done something to you, gave you something you can't get rid of," Jacob tried to give her his reassuring smile, but with his face as it was, it probably didn't work. "But you're startin' to worry that maybe you don't want to give it back. Maybe you want to keep it, your own little treasure." "I'm not sure what to say," she whispered. "I've seen it before," Jacob said in casual tones. Best to take this slow. "Really? When?" Bingo. He let a smirk slide across his face, "Shouldn't feel beholden to a fellow just 'cause he gives you a trinket from Earth-that-was." "I know," she said. He'd given her an out, and she took it. "But it was damned nice of him. And those eyes, ain't never seen eyes like that before." "Something that made you get nekkid with him?" Jacob chuckled. "We already got Friday's smutty mind to deal with. Don't need yours adding to it," Jacob rose from the long sofa and moved to the stairs. Really should exercise a bit of discretion when dealin' with Readers, he thought. He crossed the kitchen, still occupied by Friday and the farmers, on his way to the cockpit. He'd just made it to the threshold when he heard that word. "Freeze," it came out clear and distinct. Instinctively, Jacob's hands went into the air. "Ta ma duh, this is not my day," he muttered. "Kurt Cogley, you are bound by law to stand down," the voice shouted. Jacob turned, beholding a rather dirty lookin' fellow holding a gun on the pretty-boy. He stepped down the ladder, and stood beside Kurt. "Oh," he said. "You want him. Not my problem then," "Don't you move either, mister Greyson," the lawman said. "Jacob, what's going on out here?" Anne asked as her frame filled the door. The lawman, obviously on the verge of soiling himself, snapped a shot before he thought. Anne's head snapped back, and she collapsed back into the cockpit. He rushed to her side, dismissing that Kurt was now wrestling the lawman over the gun. "Anne, no," he whispered. It was the only thing which came to mind. He heard a series of gunshots sound from behind him. Hwoon dahn. "Now, everybody stay where you are, and nobody gets..." Cogley managed before Jacob pulled out his gun. An instant later he planted a bullet into Kurt's sternum. He'd have marveled at his shot were it any other time. But now, all he could do is hold Anne, fragile Anne, and say her name. <> "So," the captain said. "You are saying that the undercover agent fired the first shot, the one which struck your pilot?" Jacob's jaw tensed a bit. "Yes. Yes he did. Hate to speak ill, and all, but I ain't sorry your criminal put five rounds into him. Not sorry at all." The captain reached down to his belt. He could practically sense the lieutenant leaping out of the observation room and storming to the door. His suspicions were confirmed when the door began to pound. The captain firmly ignored the noise and pulled out his keys. "You admit to putting down Cogley, though?" the Captain said. "You have my gun, with my prints, and my bullet's in his chest. I did it, and I ain't regretting that either." "Cogley had a reward," the captain said, as he unlocked first one, then the other of Greyson's handcuffs. "Dead or alive. As it played, though, I think it'd be best if we kept this between us. Lawman dies on your boat ain't any good for business," he said. "Lawman puts a bullet to an innocent bystander," Greyson continued, "can't be good for you." "You see my problem. This investigation never happened, you know. Hold on a moment," the captain cracked the door, and the lieutenant's beet-red face appeared through it. "You are making a grave mistake. This man and his crew are responsible for..." "The death of an idiot," the captain completed. "Your idiot, if memory serves. Cogley would have got off and vanished for a while until some bank somewhere turned up empty. Your man was a timebomb waiting to go off, and he just happened to be the one to go trigger happy in a civilian transport. We'll talk on this later." Greyson was standing now. He offered his hand. "Good to see not everybodies out for the shan yao di fahn version of the truth." The captain accepted the hand. "I don't stand for it," he said. "'Cause no matter how hard you shine it up, it still smells like gos-se. <> Jacob walked slowly into the infirmery, looking at Friday for anykind of gesture. She must have been especially tired, becuase she didn't give so much as a nod. He made his way to the side of the table where she was laid out. He took up her hand. It was so cold. "Memory serves," he whispered. "Last time we were in this room, it was me on the slab and you holding my hand." He kneeled down beside her, gazing at the bandages that ran 'round her head. "I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry I couldn't protect you. Sorry I couldn't be there for you when you needed me." "How about now?" she asked, opening her eyes a trice. He smiled, and so did she. "Tougher than any gorram bullet, at least." Leave it to Anne to take a bullet to the brainpan and live. "You mean that stuff about bein' there?" she asked. "Every word. Weren't doin' it for the audience." She smiled again, brighter. "Where are we going now?" "I'm not sure," he said, kissing the back of her hand. "But we're still flying. And that ain't nothin'." ### The End ### From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:49:50 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:49:50 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:06, Wounding Whispers _PG-13_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy 1:06, Wounding Whispers Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the crew of Legacy Pairings: N/A Summary: The crew of Legacy land on Whitefall, which is still recovering from its encounter with Reavers. If only they had enough common sense not to walk right into a robbery on the go. Notes: N/A This story is available at the archive: [27k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/legacy106.shtml From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:49:50 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:49:50 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:06, Wounding Whispers _PG-13_ (1/1) Message-ID: Legacy 1:06, Wounding Whispers by James the Dark jamesthedark at hotmail.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Wounding Whispers Jacob flipped off the last switch and the craft settled down onto its extended legs, a giant cloud of dust wafting out in all directions. He didn't rightly know why anybody'd want to come to Whitefall, especially after the Reavers came through and tore the whole gorram place down. Course, having a tough woman like Patience in charge probably had a great deal to do with the reestablishment of the moon's population. Leave it to Patience to be tough enough to survive the Reavers. He turned off the engine and sauntered into the bunk that Anne had taken residence in. He slid down the ladder and gave her a smile. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Like I got a bullet in the head," she answered with a grin. "Real dizzy." "Looks like we'll be saying goodbye to our passengers," he said softly, seating himself on the edge of the bed. "Noreen'll be settin' down roots in no time flat, 'specialy with Patience for fertilizer." "Did you just call her gos-se?" she said. He leaned over. Yup, Friday still had her on the drugs. And he didn't blame her one bit. Not every day somebody took a bullet to the brainpan and walked away from it. "Yes," Jacob said. "Just don't you tell her I said it." She grinned, eyes sliding closed. They didn't open again, and her breathing evened out. Asleep. He leaned over and kissed her brow. Stay safe, he thought. Stay flying. He quietly hauled himself up the ladder, pulling the hatch closed. He turned up the hall, and beheld Sylvia carrying more weaponry than any woman had rights to. "Are we invading?" Jacob asked. She really did look rather ridiculous. Were those grenades? "I've got a bad feeling, boss," she said simply. "We are here to pick up another job, one that takes us away from Whitefall, dong ma? Don't need to try intimidating people, and Patience ain't one for intimidatin'." "You ever met her?" Sylvia said. She still hadn't conceded that she didn't need her artillery. "Not personally, but I've heard some tales." "How's Anne," Syl asked. "Sylvia," he officially ran out of patience. "Put everything explosive back into your bunk. Then, once you've done that, put half the rest. Once you've done that," he said. "Half it again?" Sylvia asked. She shook her head and lowered herself out of view. Zane peeked his head around the corner. "So we've gone from buying a Mule to invading?" he said to the descending Sylvia. She let out a dry laugh. "Seriously though, I'm sick and tired of hauling all that crap from the ship to the buyer by hand. Might be strapped like a body-builder if I keep it up, but it takes so gorram long." Jacob shook his head. "For the last time, we're getting a gorram Mule. Stop begging." "If you're feelin' in a giving mood," Friday's voice came up from her bunk. "How about some more pop? Might do Anne a bit of good." "Is everybody choosing now to run up my Yule list?" Jacob threw up his hands and stomped past them. He was stomping so determinedly, in fact, that he almost run down Hugh and Noreen Kivette. They both let out short yelps, probably at the look on his face. "Well, ah," Hugh stammered, running a hand through his grey hair. "I suppose this is goodbye. It's been a damned eventful ride, ain't it?" he tried for a smile. Almost succeeded, too. Jacob offered a hand, but the big man pulled him in for a hug instead. "Thanks to you, man. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't stopped that maniac." Noreen smiled sweetly, and she too gave him a hug. "Nice to know," she said, "that there'r still still heroic types out there." "Weren't heroic," he stammered. "Didn't have anything else for doin'. 'Sides, he hurt Anne." "We all fight for what we love," Hugh said simply. Jacob had gained a liking for that man. He was simple, guileless as a child, honest as a bell, and a damned good cook besides. Ship might feel a touch empty without Hugh and his rugrats zipping around. "Good luck on Whitefall. Maybe you'll stick around for one last dinner?" he said. "Might just do that," Noreen said. Jacob felt in somewhat better a mood as he walked down the ramp and into the driving dust. It was windy this morning, and the sand was already blasting the red concrete of the prefabricated buildings into a drab brown. And in the midst of the people moving about in this maelstrom was a squat, white-haired woman. She looked very much a woman to stand against anything nature had to throw at her. He stood at the edge of the tiny town's square. She was heaving curses and abuse around at her gang and her workers, thinking a touch more pain might get the job done that much faster. He waited a long moment for Patience to turn around, and when she did, she prodded him very hard in the shoulder. "What are you waiting around for, we've got four more buildings to go up before we can even call this place a town!" she shouted before leaning over and spitting between the gap in her teeth. The spittle landed just short of Jacob's boot. "I ain't one of your hands," he said simply. "Delivery. Another family of settlers, supplies, and whathaveyou." "Don't just sit there, then," the ornery old woman shouted. "Git'it into the bank!" "Bank?" he asked, looking at the identical buildings that surrounded him. She pointed vaguely at the building directly opposite him, then turned away. He caught her arm, then caught her stick upside his head. "Don't you ever touch me, kid," Patience said. "What?" "You got any Mules for sale?" Jacob asked. "Y'ain't got a Mule?" she asked. "Got took a few weeks back," he lied. She shook her head in disdain, and pointed to the building adjacent to the 'bank'. "Zane!" Jacob yelled. The young man came bounding off of the ship, spitting out dirt every time he tried to grin. "Hey boss!" he coughed and sputtered. "Where's the chop-shop?" Jacob nodded his head toward the building next to the bank. "Remember. It's gotta work, its gotta have torque, and haggle, haggle, haggle." "Don't worry, boss, I'm gonna rob that sucker blind," he said. Jacob gave him a severe 'bee jway' look, before noticing that Patience was nowhere nearby. She was now at the other side of the square, browbeating and just-plain-beating them's that couldn't keep up with her lofty expectations. Sylvia finally made her appearance, appearing with no weapons visible. It was a vast improvement. He wondered exactly what she was packing. "Still got that bad feeling?" he asked her as Zane made his way across the square. She stood beside him, staring into the horizon. "Worse," she said. She didn't wait for him, even to ask directions, heading out in a bee-line towards the building that Patience said was the bank. Something was a bit off, he felt. Still, he was going to be off this mo yi di nao tan keh planet and on to places... a bit less dusty. "Captain?" he heard Sylvia's voice rise. Zane poked his head out the door, but Jacob shook his head. Zane ducked back into the mechanic's shop as Greyson pulled the door to the bank open. Sylvia was kneeled on the floor, fingers laced above her head. Several very dusty men were stomping around the building, long shotguns in hand. One of them grabbed Jacob by the collar and tossed him rather effortlessly to the floor next to his crewmate. He gasped to pull some air back into his lungs, and put himself into the same position Sylvia had assumed. He shook his head, "Son of a bitch." <> "come one Kasey, open the gorram vault" "please don't hurt me please don't hurt me" "I should have just enlisted. Pa couldn't have been that wrong" Syl realized that she was shaking. Rather badly, but there weren't a thing to be done on it. She was trembling now, her hands only remaining still by virtue of fingers being laced together and palms flat against her skull. Her teeth chattered, instead. "Just my gorram day. Try 'n do the right thing, and we get robbed," Jacob groused. "An' that ain't right, gorram it." "Everybody stay on the ground, and nobody gets a bullet to them," one of the robbers shouted. He was waving around a poorly maintained shotgun looked more likely to explode then fire. "Bu yao yih dong, woh men buh jiang shang hai ni," another repeated. "Hey," the first one shouted into the back of the bank. "Where's that vault?" "Ain't got it yet, boss," came the voice. Somehow she instantly connected it to the name Kasey. "I think we're humped," Sylvia said softly, trying to keep still despite the sudden palsy that seemed to overtake her. "Really," Jacob said quietly. "What gave you that impression?" She shook. Jacob rose to his feet. "Y' know, we've got business needs attending to, and we don't much care who we deal with," he offered. "Down, or you get a bullet," the supposed leader barked. Greyson shrugged and sat himself down. "Can't say I didn't try," he uttered. "so fine to rip the flesh, so fine to stitch, to stitch the flesh" "Why was I on that ship?" she asked quietly. "What?" "On the BlackJack?" Sylvia said. Maybe a bit of distraction would pull her together. "Niska hired you," he said simply, hoping to leave it at that. "No, you recommended me, out of a room of better folk, and Niska assigned me onto your ship," she said. "Ain't exactly a secret in some circles that you 'n Niska were close. So, why did you finger me out?" Greyson sighed then, like something he'd not wanted to tell so long he'd forgot how to tell it. He leaned back on the wall. "Y'ever meet somebody and know from the first peek of them that they're goin' places? Know that the very best you could do is latch on and hope you don't fall off?" "I think I do," she said, remembering a pair of silver eyes. "That's what I got when I saw you kicking your heels on the Skyplex," Greyson said. "Weren't much to look at, gotta say, all tiny and gangly and whatnot; I was rackin' my brain wonderin' how in the Nine Civilized Hells you were going places. Hell, might have been wrong all along and not even know it yet." "Thanks," she said, "for everything but the last part," Jacob smiled. "Greatness. Ain't that a tickler. Weren't it for Anne, I'd might had to kiss you for that," she chuckled. He laughed, drawing a curse from the robbers. "Much obliged," he leaned over to her, staring at her hands, of all things. "Why're you shaking?" "Don't know," she said. "Just can't keep still." She shuddered and shivered for several long seconds while Greyson doubtless considered whether to comfort her. She was his crew, but she weren't his lover. He'd made his decision, and put an arm over her shoulder when the door swung open and a wizened old face appeared against the swirling dust. "What in the great guay is going on in here?" Patience screamed. The Chinese-speaking robber wasted no time in squeezing off a shot. The bullet spun her about, dropping her back outside the door, from which came a string of profanities so foul and well constituted that were they taken down, they could be used by opposing armies to start a battle in lieu of a declaration of war. Then the world crashed in on her. "let me out, I don't want to be here" "gorram it, job ain' never runnin' smooth" "to drink the blood, it burns so sweet, burns like the flesh" "We come" "Ni mun doh bee-juay!" Sylvia shrieked. Several dozen voices fell silent as one, both those that came through her ears, and them's what didn't. One remained, though. "We come" The moment of shock stretched out where robbers and hostages tried to work out what to do with this screaming banshee, most of the thought centering on 'what the guay was that?'. "Reavers," she whispered to Jacob. His face went dead pale. "You're sure?" he said, hoping she was lying, no doubt. But he knew. She didn't know how, but he knew. "Not so much as a question," she said. Jacob's gaze focused on her nose, for some reason. "When I said shut up," the 'leader' shouted, finally shaking of whatever it was she'd done. "I means shut up!" he swung his shotgun down to clip her jaw. There was no time for this. She twisted her head back, letting the butt swing past her and allowing him to throw himself dangerously off balance. With his center of gravity so far forward, it was an easy thing to rocket upward from her croach and crack shut his jaw with her crown. His jaw closed wetly, as if he'd not got his tongue all the way back in before his teeth slammed together. As he pitched back, Sylvia shifted her weight onto one foot and drove the other with all of her might squarely into his scrotum. The others were shocked, to say the least, as she pulled a gun out of her shirt and planted a bullet into the Chinese-speaking robber's kneecap. This one went down with a scream as the third, the box-man Kasey, appeared out of the came into view. Seeing Sylvia, for some reason, made him throw up his hands in surrender. She turned back to Jacob. "Go find Patience." "We come" "And God comes with us" Greyson didn't waste any time, bolting out the door and returning a few seconds later holding up the wizened old harridan, who clutched at her shoulder in pain. "You got some skill, I gotta say," she said, face a little screwed from the wound she held. "No time for that, Patience," Jacob said. She turned to face him. "We've just got a short-Wave from our ship," he lied. Sylvia kept her face smooth, "sayin' a pack of Reavers is comin' in hard and fast." "I've survived Reavers before," Patience growled. "An' I'll survive them again." Sylvia scoffed. "You survived them last time by bein' somewhere else. There ain't no way to get you all out. An' s'I see it, you've got about five minutes before you get a right close introduction with tough, dark and cannibal." Patience seemed to ponder this for a long moment, her pride battling with her instinct for survival. Her instinct won. She shuffled back to the door. "Everybody git in here now!" It was astounding how quickly they obeyed. Patience continued. "A pack of Reavers is comin' in to hit us again. An' they ain't gonna find us when they get here, dong ma?" a chorus of affirmatives sounded. "We're all goin' down into that vault, and we ain't getting out until the nice men with the purple hats come a'knockin', dong ma?" People began filing into the bank, moving directly for the vault. "And what are you going to do about them?" Greyson asked. "What d'you mean?" she asked snippily. "How cruel do you feel? Will you take them with you, and hang them when the Reavers are gone, or will you just lock them out and let the Reavers have them?" He slipped himself out from under her arm, letting her support herself on the counter. "'Cause it'd have a lot more heart to put a bullet to them now." Again Patience pondered a moment, then pulled out her pistol and leveled it at Kasey's head. One shot, and he crumpled to the ground. Two more shots followed, each with another robber lying still in the end. "Folk gotta respect the law," she said as she hobbled toward the vault. Sylvia grabbed Jacob's shirt and dragged him out of the bank. Zane was smiling tightly in the blowing dust, displaying proudly his purchase of a new Mule. "What the hell happened, boss?" he said, face suddenly serious. Jacob tore free and scooped up a woman who was approaching and dropped her onto the back. Sylvia instantly recognized her as Noreen. The farmer's wife gave a shocked look as she was so deposited. "Not now, Zane, get this thing onto the ship and chain it down. Noreen, is Hugh and the li'l 'uns still back on Legacy?" Jacob barely waited for her nod before pressing on. "Get back and make sure that boat's ready to fly." "Why?" he asked. Greyson paused a moment. Word had spread, and now people were sprinting to the bank. He looked up into the sky. "Reavers," was all he said. "No problem in that," he said. "We've dealt with Reavers before." Sylvia shouted. "We dealt with one Reaver, who was already half dead when we found her. This time, we run." "we come" "she does not suspect" "Go!" she screamed as her arm lashed out, catching a running woman across the face. The strike cracked her nose rather loudly, and blood began to rill down the lady's chin. She didn't scream. She roared. The woman in the pink-floral dress bounded back up, pulling a jagged-edged knife out of her skirt as she closed on the retreating Sylvia. She pulled the shotgun from the holster she rigged running down her leg, took aim, and fired. The first shot hit her low on the abdomen, slowing the woman. Sylvia uttered a curse and racked the gun again as the woman roared again, picking herself up to a run. The second shot took the woman in the left shoulder, tearing off most of the tissue and leaving the appendage dangling useless at her side. She didn't even slow. Sylvia racked the shotgun again, and fired. This next shot struck low, making a ruin of her right leg. The woman finally stumbled to a stop. "No mercy!" the woman screamed. She was right. She didn't know how she knew, but she was right. Sylvia racked the gun again. The Reaver-woman forced herself into motion again, hobbling with surprising speed toward Sylvia, completely oblivious to the critical condition of her frame. She aimed again, firing a cloud of buckshot into the center of the woman's chest. The woman slowed considerably, but was still coming forward. That last shot would be considered universally fatal in pretty much anybody else, and all the rest she'd take were totally debilitating, and this Reaver woman was still coming. Sylvia felt her back bump into a wall, and the Reaver kept coming, a smile of viscious triumph broad across her face. Sylvia allowed a smile of her own, as she racked the gun again, bringing the final shell into the chamber. Almost casually, she reached out and placed the barrel against the approaching beast's body, right where the neck met the shoulders. A final shot, and the Reaver fell into a twitching mass, finally unable to kill. It still tried desperatly to fight, Syl could see it in the creature's eyes, but this one was put down. She looked across the square. The Jacob, Zane and Noreen were still staring at her. "We," Greyson said, almost caught and vanished in the wind and blowing dust, "are going to have a very long talk." She didn't see his lips move. <> Noreen had entered a state of shock as Sylvia placed her shotgun against the chest of the still-advancing Reaver-bitch and plugged it with one final shot. It fell backwards, finally completely unable to kill anything. We are going to have a very long talk, Greyson thought. Sylvia was now bleeding profusely from her nose and the corners of her eyes. She beamed triumphantly before collapsing as if boneless to the ground. "Get them onto the boat," he shouted at Zane, who snapped out of his state and forced the vehicle to churn away into the dirt toward the ship. Jacob forced himself to a run, stopping for just a moment beside Sylvia. He reached over and grasped the right hand of the Reaver, noting it was encased in a glove made from a larger man's hand. He slipped it off and shoved it into his back pocket, and hefted Syl onto his shoulder. He was somewhat surprised by how light she was. Her blood leaked onto his shoulder as he bolted toward Legacy. "Chain that Mule down," he shouted at Zane as the ramp and airlock closed, and he felt the ship buck a bit as it made its escape. He wondered if Friday'd gotten some flight training. Weren't anybody else able to fly this boat. Zane was already draping the chains over the four-wheeled craft when Jacob shouted, and he forced onward, leaping through the door and down to the short steps into the common area. Hugh was standing in his way. "What's goin' on here?" he asked. "Grab your kids and hold on," Jacob ordered. "Reaver's are over Whitefall." Hugh took a long step back, looking very much like he was going to faint. Noreen followed a moment later and took her husband to task as Jacob flung open the doors to the infirmery. Friday stared back at him. "Take care of her," he said. Then his brain caught up with him. "Wait a gorram minute, who's flying this boat?" "I'll deal with her if I can," Friday said, "and you know who's flying this boat." Greyson stared into nothing for a very long moment. Couldn't be. Then he was sprinting again, taking steps three at a time, throwing himself into the cockpit. There she was, head wrapped up in bandages, burning atmo into the black. "How do you feel?" he asked, astounded by the stupidity of the question the instant it came out. "I've got a headwound, I haven't eaten in three days, my body's full of morphine, and I'm runnin' from the Reavers," she replied. "I'm just shiny." "You can do this," he said. She smiled at him. He took his place at the copilots seat and watched as the powerful surveying sensors scanned, located, and tracked the incoming object that approached at tremendous speed. As it dove down into the air, its reaction flare burned a thick and cancerous black. a smog that he could practically smell from where he sat. He didn't recognize the ship, except that the plating was mutilated. The sensors could pick up each of the sixty-four human cadavers that were strung along its bow, every tearing pike they'd added for when the ships got close enough to ram. The paired electromagnetic snares. Those would be the hardest do defeat. Especially with an engine running completely without containment, and able to exert more thrust on its worst day than Legacy could on its best. "Any ideas?" Anne asked. "They' seen us," Jacob said. "And if we run, they have to chase us." "Really?" Anne asked. Jacob nodded. "It's their way." "Boss," came Zane's shout. "Mule's chained down, cargo's secure, and Noreen's coralled her kids." "How long until we break atmo?" Jacob asked. "A few seconds. What do you have in mind? We can't pull a blowback in the black, and an Ivan'll just drop us right into their lap." "We could try a Maverick?" he said. "Problem is, what do we do then?" "I got that covered, boss," Zane came in, shooing Jacob from the copilot's seat. Jacob gave him a very flat look. "Get up," he said. "I need that seat." Jacob finally grunted and pulled himself to his feet. Zane reached for the paneling above the seat and pulled it out. It flipped down, revealing another screen that came to rest just at eye level for someone sitting down. He also popped what looked like a false back off of the flight-stick. "Remember how we didn't get any burn out of the number one tank?" Zane said as he flipped a set of switches that activated this new screen. Jacob grunted, even though he didn't remember much of what happened after that first Reaver-bitch took his eye. "That tank ain't a tank," Zane explained. "It's a camoflagued housing for a Diamondback Missile launcher." "Ain't those things illegal?" "Highly," Zane laughed. "Which is why it's hidden so gorram well. Ain't exactly common to have Alliance weaponry on Independant ships." "We've cleared atmo. Readying for the Mave..." Anne said. "Not yet," Greyson said. "Not until they've cleared atmo, too." "I'm getting a massive influx of energy off of that ship," Zane said. "It's powering its grapplers. Wait... I think, yeah, it's cleared atmo." "Starting the..." Anne began again. "Not gorram yet!" Jacob shouted. Everybody turned to look at him. "That thing moves like a hare, but turns like a cow. We give it room to get a bead on us, it'll tear us apart. We gotta wait till the last possible second." The entire ship seemed to go silent as the Reaver's ship came closer. Closer. Its fetid contrail vanished, leaving only the black and dark brown of its natural 'paints' to distinguish it from the clouds and dirt of Whitefall beneath it. It was still getting closer. Closer. "I want you to know," Anne said in the silence. "If we don't make it out of this..." "None of that," Jacob said softly, laying his hand on her shoulder. "None of that." Closer. Now. "Anne!" he shouted, and she did what she did best. Even with a headwound, an empty stomach, and a bloodstream full of morphine. The entire ship seemed on the verge of flying apart as the thrust instantly went from all forward to all reverse, and the Reaver ship suddenly filled the viewscreens. Its EM grapplers arced and spat, launching well in front of the now steadily reversing craft. The Reaver ship followed, leaping into the front of Legacy, its pods still crackling with energy and its thrust pillar burning over-bright. "And here is why we rock," Zane said with a small smile. His finger pulled in on the trigger, and a grey streak leapt out from Legacy, a long contrail burning quickly toward one of the EM grapplers that was still overcharged. It impacted into the right hand pod, its explosion bursting capacitors and other technical whatnot that kept that prodigeous charge from filtering back into the ship and frying all manner of systems, which was exactly what happened once the formerly mentioned whatnot weren't working. The Reaver ship's drive flare faltered, sputtered, and died, leaving the massive craft drifting into a slowly degrading orbit. He could hope that the damnedable thing would hit the atmosphere and explode in a very large and pretty fireball, but it knew they'd have the thing fixed. They always managed to have the damned thing fixed. "Get us out of here," Greyson ordered. "Don't need to tell me twice," Anne muttered, spinning up the engine and leaving the Reavers to drift in the black. <> "Friday!" Jacob shouted as she closed the door to the infirmery. "You took her off the morphine as soon as I went off that ship, didn't you?" Friday stared him down for a moment. "I did. Can't spare the pop, have to stretch it out." Jacob nodded very slowly, "Good job," he said. "Don't ever do it again." "I hear ya," she said. She turned away. "Wait, what about Syl?" "I don't have the first clue what happened to her," She said, not turning around. "'s 'sif her brain just forced out a pint of blood for no good reason." "How long till she's on her feet?" he asked. She turned and shook her head. "You ain't listening. I've never seen this before. Might have been top of my class, but top of class on Boros don't mean much compared to the Core. I can't help her, outside of replacin' what blood she lost," her voice faltered near the end. "Ain't nothin' else. Can't deal with a bleeding brain here." "It's all fallin' apart, ain't it?" Jacob whispered. "'Sides the pop, what about Anne?" "Responding astoundingly well, tell the truth," She smiled a bit at this. "Never heard of a woman recovering so quick from a bullet to the brain." "I'm glad she has you for a doctor, you know," he said. "Ah," she smiled broadly. "So sweet. Weren't you taken, I'd..." He waved her off before she completed the sentence, which was probably for the best. She shrugged and went up to his bunk to check on Anne. He plunked himself down onto the long sofa and ran his fingers along the spine of that old book he'd found. As he was contemplating reading, Noreen's head popped out around the corner where the rest of her family was asleep. "I assume this is as good a time to talk as any?" she said. "Reckon so," he said, patting the arm of the chair on the other side of the corner. "What's this about?" "Well," she said, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. "We're gonna be on this ship a mite longer than we'd agreed, and, well, we ain't got a thing to trade outside out government lot." "Is this about payment?" he asked. She nodded slowly. "I ain't gonna charge you for savin' your lives. We're headed for Hera. From there, don't even know. You want to get off, you can." She smiled then, an expression of such genuine delight he felt a part of him lifted. She leaned over and gave him a hug. "You don't know how many'd make us pay for the extra leg, didn't they just dump us on a Reaver-hit planet and have us do as we can," she rambled. "Ain't my way. Things'll be a bit tight on the ship, but we'll get where we're going," Greyson said, standing up. "You got my word on that." She backed up toward the bunks. "You know, ain't many heros left in the 'Verse," she said. Jacob shook his head. "I ain't a hero, missus. Any man worth his salt would have done the same." Noreen shook her head. "You know that ain't true," she said slowly. She vanished for a moment as she informed her husband of the good news, then leaned back out. "I guess that makes you a big damn hero." ### The End ### From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:51:20 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:51:20 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:07, Does That Seem Right To You? _PG-1 Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy 1:07, Does That Seem Right To You? Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the crew of Legacy Pairings: N/A Summary: With Hera succeeding from the Alliance, the mastermind of its separation fulfilled his promise to step down. Now Jacob and Legacy must transport him to his destination before something goes wrong. Notes: N/A This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=5949 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:52:47 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:52:47 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:08, Trauma _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy 1:08, Trauma Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the crew of Legacy Pairings: N/A Summary: Sylvia's condition worsens, and Jacob must find a way to get her into a Core hospital. He must now make a choice between every bit of profit he's made, and his crewmate's life. Notes: N/A This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=6007 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:53:43 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:53:43 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:09, Conflict of Interests _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy 1:09, Conflict of Interests Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the crew of Legacy Pairings: N/A Summary: Sylvia's condition worsens, and Jacob must find a way to get her into a Core hospital. He must now make a choice between every bit of profit he's made, and his crewmate's life. Notes: N/A This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=6031 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:55:08 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:55:08 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy 1:10, Eerie-Ass Days _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy 1:10, Eerie-Ass Days Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the crew of Legacy Pairings: N/A Summary: Anne makes a personal request that Jacob cannot deny, which sends Legacy flying into hazard. Now, they must find a way to get onto Hera, which is under Alliance blockade, and escape with a priceless cargo. Notes: N/A This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=6092 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:57:52 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:57:52 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy, 1:11, Screaming _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy, 1:11, Screaming Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Summary: Just when Jacob thought things were going smooth, his doctor gets stabbed and Sylvia goes bugnut. Now, he's got to find a way to bring her back into the world of the sane before she hurts someone, or worse, hurts herself. This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=6155 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 19:58:59 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 19:58:59 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy, 1:12, Annulment _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy, 1:12, Annulment Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Summary: Sometimes, it ain't the job that don't go smooth, it's the after part. Well, Greyson and crew are happily sleeping off a bender for a job well done, and one of them wakes up in an unusual matrimonial position. Hilarity ensues. This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=6160 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 20:00:07 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 20:00:07 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy, 1:13, One by One _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy, 1:13, One by One Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Summary: Legacy is in dire straits, having had no chance to stop for fuel, nor enough cash to afford it. An opportunity to fill up the ship comes at last, but the job will put Jacob and his crew in contact with a new and powerful enemy. This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=6178 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 20:01:04 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 20:01:04 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy, 1:14, See What's Inside _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy, 1:14, See What's Inside Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Summary: Times have gone from bad to desparate, with even food becoming precious on Legacy. Now, the crew must take a job from a shady fellow in order to keep themselves fed. But what's waiting for them has a powerful hunger of its own. This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=6312 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 20:02:06 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 20:02:06 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy, 1:15, Unification Day _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy, 1:15, Unification Day Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Summary: Waking up in the woods can be refreshing. Waking up naked in the woods can be embarrassing. Waking up naked in the woods, with your captain bleeding, and also naked, can be all sorts of confusing. This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=6762 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 20:02:35 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 20:02:35 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy, 1:16, Unification Day _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy, 1:16, Unification Day Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Pairings: Jacob/Anne Summary: A routine delivery turns into a gunfight. One and a half miles is a long way to walk when you've been shot in the belly. This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=6762 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 20:02:58 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 20:02:58 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy, 1:16, Guts _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy, 1:16, Guts Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Pairings: Jacob/Anne Summary: A routine delivery turns into a gunfight. One and a half miles is a long way to walk when you've been shot in the belly. This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=6773 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 20:03:55 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 20:03:55 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy, 1:17, Holdin' A Grudge _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy, 1:17, Holdin' A Grudge Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Summary: Legacy lands on Beaumonde so Jacob and the crew can pick up a job from Fanty and Mingo. Only problem is that Zane recognizes somebody from his past, somebody who done the mechanic wrong. This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=6773 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 20:05:36 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 20:05:36 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy, 1:18, Matilda _PG-13_ Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy, 1:18, Matilda Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Summary: It was supposed to be simple. Transport a little damsel named Matilda from Boros to Bellerophon. Simple, though, doesn't cover thousand pound crocodiles. This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=7027 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 20:07:36 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 20:07:36 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy, 1:19, The Big Damn Job, Part 1 (Flipsid Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy, 1:19, The Big Damn Job, Part 1 (Flipside) Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Malcolm, Zoe, Kaylee, Inara, Jayne, Simon, River, Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Pairings: River/Jayne, Simon/Kaylee, Jacob/Anne Summary: After Jacob meets with a mysterious preacher, he and his crew travel to Hera, to take place in the most daring assault on the Alliance to take place in years. And to protect them, no less. This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=7063 From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Fri Jan 13 20:09:10 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Fri, 13 Jan 2006 20:09:10 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy Legacy, 1:20, The Big Damn Job, Part 2 (Got Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Legacy, 1:20, The Big Damn Job, Part 2 (Got Took) Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen Characters: Malcolm, Inara, Jayne, River, Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Summary: With time running out, Legacy and the rest of the Independant Fleet make their way to Boros to fight of the Reavers. The battle will be brutal, and not everybody will make it back. This story is available on the web: [k] http://www.fireflyfan.net/sunroomitem.asp?i=7107 From anajonesgirl at yahoo.com Sat Jan 14 14:36:38 2006 From: anajonesgirl at yahoo.com (anajonesgirl@yahoo.com) Date: Sat, 14 Jan 2006 14:36:38 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Of Doctors and Captains _R_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Of Doctors and Captains Author: Brighit Feedback: anajonesgirl at yahoo.com Status: NEW - Work-In-Progress Rating: R Genre: *slash* Characters: Malcolm, Simon Pairings: Mal/Simon Summary: Mal is depressed. Simon finds out why. Notes: Slash From anajonesgirl at yahoo.com Sat Jan 14 14:36:38 2006 From: anajonesgirl at yahoo.com (anajonesgirl@yahoo.com) Date: Sat, 14 Jan 2006 14:36:38 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Of Doctors and Captains _R_ (1/1) Message-ID: Of Doctors and Captains by Brighit anajonesgirl at yahoo.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Mal was sitting at in the pilot's chair. It was Wash's and Zoe's fourth wedding anniversary, and they had locked themselves up in their bunk in the morning, with huge amounts of food and alcohol, so he had been asked to take Wash's place, in case anything went wrong. Serenity was running on autopilot, anyway, so there was nothing he had to do. He was a private sort of person, so he enjoyed moments like these - when nothing and no-one was bothering him, when all was wonderfully tranquil. Just the faint whirr of Serenity's engine, the glow of the various lamps and buttons, the regular beeping of the scanner. 'Captain?' a soft voice called, bringing him out of his reverie. Mal turned to find that Simon was framed in the doorway. 'What is it, Doc?' 'Kaylee said you haven't eaten anything in the last two days. Just wanted to make sure you're okay.' Mal grimaced - he really did not like it when the crew got all concerned about him. It made him feel like he was pitied. He didn't like being pitied. He was simply too proud. 'I'm fine Doc. Shinin', as Kaylee would say. A lot on my mind is all.' 'You're lying,' Simon slid into the co-pilot's seat. 'Excuse me?' a look of indignation flashed across Mal's face. 'Your eyes,' Simon smiled weakly, his lovely eyes remaining serious, 'they give it away. You act as though nothing is wrong, but your eyes have fear in them. Don't think I' prying, please, I - I just want to help.' Mal smiled. 'Wasn't thinking you were prying, Doc -' 'Simon.' 'Huh?' 'Simon. My name is Simon. I'd like it if you called me that, seeing as everyone else does.' 'Okay, Simon.' 'You were saying something.' 'Oh. Yeah. Um, well, I'm not the person who's particularly good at confessions or anything. Never liked to speak about what I think and feel to anyone, don't like to throw my problems onto others, see. But you're right, somethin' has been bothering me. Kinda strange, really...' Mal's voice trailed off into silence. Simon understood that the captain was trying to say something that was difficult to say. He had no idea how. 'Captain?' Simon said when the silence became slightly too long. 'Sorry. We haven't had a job in quite a long time, so - 'Is that what is bothering you? I mean, we have enough money, so - ' 'No, it's not that. What I mean is, what with the lack of work, I've had time aplenty to think about my life and the people in it. And after a week of hard thinking I've decided that I - well - that I was - um - in love.' Simon grinned. 'But that's wonderful! I agree that you need someone. Who is it? I -I'm sorry,' Simon said hurriedly, seeing the strange expression of embarrassment that contorted Mal's features, 'I really am meddling, my mouth ran away with me.' 'It's fine. I guess I should have made it known.' 'Does she know?' 'Well... no, I don't think so.' 'You should tell her!' 'You think so?' 'Captain -' 'Mal.' 'Mal. How can you begin a relationship if the girl doesn't know you love her? It's no use starving for her if she had no idea.' 'I guess you're right. So you really think -' 'Yes,' Simon said in exasperation. 'Okay,' Mal leant forward, and before Simon could realize what happened, before he could understand anything at all, the captain's lips met his. At first, Simon was too shocked - a mild underestimation - to react. Then a whole mixture of thoughts and feelings flooded his short-circuiting mind. Realization. Mal - the beautiful, distant, brave Malcolm Reynolds, was in love with him. Surprise. Certainly, this was nothing anyone would have expected. Then he actually began to fell the warmth and softness of the lips that were upon his, the tenderness, hesitancy and vulnerability of the kiss. Mal drew back, eyes wide and expecting, looking very much like a puppy who had been beaten too many times and was expecting yet another blow. To be frank, he was shocked at himself. What had made him so daring, he did not know, but he suspected it had been the proximity of the doctor, the intimacy of the moment, or maybe the brown eyes that had been looking at him. He did not know, for sure. He did not care. 'Mal...' Simon exhaled, releasing the breath he had not known he'd been holding. 'I'm sorry if I crossed the line. Maybe -' 'No,' Simon said, mind suddenly crystal-clear. 'No maybes. No uncertainty.' 'What?' Mal was lost. 'I've been waiting for this for too long to spend time on maybes and ifs.' 'What?' the kiss seemed to have somehow stopped his brain from working properly, for he really could not understand. Well, he could, to be honest. He just refused to. 'I was enamoured from the very first place I saw you. Remember, you stepped inside and seemed so cold towards me? I can even remember what you wore than day, the scent of mint and cinnamon you had about you.' 'I had no idea.' 'I was careful to hide my feelings. It was quite obvious you were in love with Inara and -' 'Nah, I never was. Not really, anyway. Thought I was, but a few days ago realized I was trying to distract myself from you. I never told you because of Kaylee.' 'Kaylee? What does she have to do with anything?' 'I thought you liked her, Simon.' 'I did. I do. But not romantically, you daft idiot. I love her like I love River - like a sister. She's an adorable girl, but that is all.' 'Oh,' Mal managed. He really had been blind. And stupid. 'My bunk, in an hour,' Simon said quickly, before the door slid open and Kaylee's head poked in. 'You okay, Cap? Si?' 'I'm fine,' Mal answered. 'K. You just look a little - flustered.' 'Captain,' Simon said, a little too loudly, 'I'll see you - um - later?' Mal nodded, trying to suppress an excited grin. Simon placed a chaste kiss on Kaylee's cheek, and swept out of the control room. When Mal entered Simon's bunk, he was expecting the full show. Candlelight, luxurious bedclothes, champagne - everything he knew Inara did for her customers. There was none of that. Just Simon, dozing fully dressed on his bed, and the dimmed light. 'Didn't think you would like the full-on seduction,' Simon muttered, rubbing his eyes. 'What took you so long?' 'Kaylee dragged me into the engine room and was ranting about how she needs a new synchronizer. I was so desperate to leave I actually promised her to buy a new one.' 'That's a change,' Simon commented with a wry smile. 'Come here.' Mal, rather nervously, perched on the bed. 'Where's your sis?' he asked, just to say something. 'With Inara. They are doing some form of yoga, I think.' 'Nice. Next time she'll start teaching little River companion tricks and -' Mal did not finish, because Simon grabbed his face in both hands. Eager mouths met, at first unsure and then growing bolder as Simon's tongue slid into Mal's warm mouth and began the sensual, teasing caressing. Mal's fingers, calloused from the hard labour and weapons, wound into Simon's silky, chocolate-coloured haired, pulling the doctor's face even closer, deepening the kiss even more, until both were breathless. They pulled apart to take in much needed oxygen, and Simon surveyed the beautiful, flushed features of his lover-to-be. Sea-blue eyes darkened with desire, lips full with the kisses, slightly parted. Mal, in turn, silently admired the sharp, angular features of the young man - little more than boy, really - before him; kiss-swollen lips, flawless, ivory skin. A sudden cold fear gripped him - what would this infinitely graceful, refined, beautiful creature see in a crude, uneducated crook like him? 'You're beautiful,' Mal sighed, his hand rising to, almost reverently, graze the doctor's lips. ### The End ### From hvandewall at yahoo.com Mon Jan 16 18:43:08 2006 From: hvandewall at yahoo.com (hvandewall@yahoo.com) Date: Mon, 16 Jan 2006 18:43:08 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Full of Secrets _G_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Full of Secrets Author: Cedar Feedback: hvandewall at yahoo.com Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: G Genre: gen Characters: Malcolm, River Pairings: none Summary: A brief chat between River and the captain Notes: Set after the film This story is available at the archive: [6k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/fullof.shtml From hvandewall at yahoo.com Mon Jan 16 18:43:08 2006 From: hvandewall at yahoo.com (hvandewall@yahoo.com) Date: Mon, 16 Jan 2006 18:43:08 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Full of Secrets _G_ (1/1) Message-ID: Full of Secrets by Cedar hvandewall at yahoo.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Full of Secrets "I'm still full of secrets" Mal looked at River, who sat calmly cross-legged in his pilot's chair. He still wasn't quite ready to leave her in sole charge of his ship for the night. Genius, trained assassin, reader, and damn fast learner in general she might be. But he couldn't just leave his baby alone all night with someone who'd first piloted a ship less than a month ago. At first he thought River was reacting to his protectiveness of the boat. In the last weeks she had been a real creative pilot. But something about her tone suggested a more unfortunate interpretation. "Are we talkin' Miranda-type secrets here, girl?" She nodded, still calmly. "That was only the worst one." He looked out at the black. "I guess I'm glad to know they don't get no worse than that." He forced himself to look at her directly. "River, that last secret of yours cost us. It cost us heavy. It was worth payin', I do believe that. But I don't believe we're ready for another war. Not yet. Maybe not ever." She tipped her head, considering him and everything he didn't have to say for her to hear it. "I've waited to say. Three weeks, two days." She sung to him, quite seriously, but in jazz tempo "Don't nobody give me...no bad news." He raised his eyebrows. She'd been pretty much sane since Miranda. If this was a step back he'd be mighty sorry. "We could use a bit of good news, girl. Just as a change." "It's good and bad. Good news: River knows what's her thoughts and what's not, what's past and what's now, what's secret and what everyone knows. Bad news: River isn't all shiny and new now, never will be. I'm still full of secrets. They're all bad news." He sighed. It was probably a good thing the Doc missed that monologue. "I guessed that part." "Bad news doesn't have to mean bad luck." "How you figure?" "You want to know where the biggest installation of chemical weapons in this sector is?" "Not if there's any chance of Jayne ever usin' that information" She smiled, a brilliant flash. "Want to know how to get them out and turn them into terraforming fertilizer?" He blew out a breath. "You and that brother of yours both got serious criminal potential. I can't decide whether I'm scared by that or not." Her smile didn't waver. "You're scared. But it makes you like us better." Mal rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Well, I never claimed to be fully sane. All the same, we ain't goin' near that big a game right now. Maybe not ever." She nodded and he tried to judge how she was taking that answer. "You got any secrets might lead to simple jobs outside of the core, jobs what don't involve weapons of mass destruction?" Her smile had faded, replaced by a cynical glimmer that reminded Mal of no one more than himself on a bad day. Even her accent mimicked his own. "Now, no job what involves River is lackin' a weapon of mass destruction." Mal stared at her a moment, then kicked her chair so it spun to face his directly. "Maybe you ain't wrong about that." He made good and sure she was paying attention. "But a weapon sure as hell ain't all you are. You're deadly, no question. The folks took you didn't give you no choice about that. But your brother, hell everyone on this boat, has risked somethin' big to give you a choice what you do with that deadly. Last I saw, you used it to save us from a pack of Reavers. Your choice. I can't say as I'm sorry about that bit of destruction." River relaxed a bit, turning back to Serenity's controls. "I should choose a secret on the rim and use no weapons but River." "Well, Jayne will be a mite ornery if you don't let him take a few of his girls along." "A core-less secret plan with a use for Vera." "Right. That's what we need." "And a job for Zoe." River smoothed a finger down the long, thin body of the brontosaurus on the navigation console. "Zoe needs to fight something. Find something. Lose something." "Lose something?" It seemed a man could still wish River spoke plainer, even when he was pretty sure she was sane. "River, I think she's lost all she can take right now." And he didn't know how if he could watch Zoe lose anything else either. Last month had two moments he had put in a category once reserved only for the end of Serenity Valley. Watching Zoe try to pull Wash out of the very chair River now sat in, that was one. Realizing the operative had murdered everyone'd ever helped or hid Serenity's crew, that was another. He hoped someone would just up and shoot him before making him live through those moments again. "Zoe has a plan she has to lose." Before he could get the question from his mind to his mouth River shook her head at him, firmly. "I won't tell her secret. I'm full of them, I'll tell another. To give her something else to find." "Girl, I need to know..." River put the T-Rex down between them, brooking no argument. "You can guess enough. You'll find her something else to fight." Mal thought about pushing River harder, then realized in disgust that it probably wouldn't serve his purpose. She shifted the dinosaurs so they all faced him. "Plastic representations of extinct life forms. They might help you remember." "Just what'll they help me remember?" "They're dead. Lost, gone. But we know about them, everyone does now. Secret's out. We lost but we win." He knew what she meant now. But he still didn't have a plan for dealing with all the loss. "Love keeps the ship in the air, captain. You don't have to plan alone." She stood up, waved him over to the controls. "You want to brood. I'll leave you alone with her." Mal glared at her. Not his scary-even-Jayne-steps-back-a-pace glare. Just a you're-a-brat glare. "I think I'm gonna tell your brother your medication needs tinkerin' with." River smiled. "Simon can do that same look." "Go on and get. Sleep some. You better be ready for some fancy navigation tomorrow, girl. We're getting' nearer the core than uppity fugitives like yourself oughta be." "I'm still full of secrets." She smiled at him, and slipped out of the cockpit, leaving him alone with the black. ### The End ### From ikite_mizu at comcast.net Tue Jan 17 22:37:00 2006 From: ikite_mizu at comcast.net (ikite_mizu@comcast.net) Date: Tue, 17 Jan 2006 22:37:00 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Strength Or Folly _NC-17_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Strength Or Folly Author: Chelsea Feedback: ikite_mizu at comcast.net Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: NC-17 Genre: het Characters: Jayne, River Pairings: River/Jayne Summary: River's curious. Jayne's willing. Things end a bit differently. Notes: Let me just make it clear that I don't like this pairing. However, a friend of mine who shall be named as Lauren told me to write it. I'm glad she did. The result surprised the hell out of me, that's for sure. Feedback greatly appreciated. This story is available at the archive: [5k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/strengthor.shtml From ikite_mizu at comcast.net Tue Jan 17 22:37:00 2006 From: ikite_mizu at comcast.net (ikite_mizu@comcast.net) Date: Tue, 17 Jan 2006 22:37:00 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Strength Or Folly _NC-17_ (1/1) Message-ID: Strength Or Folly by Chelsea ikite_mizu at comcast.net Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. "Girlie, are ya sure this is whatcha wan'?" His words were rough, panted, low. Gravel shook from his voice as if lodged in his throat. River saw shadows draped on his feet, and thought to kiss them if only he hadn't made them so dirty. Instead, she brought up her hand, tilted her head, and stroked a bare shoulder. The skin was much darker than hers, and rougher. She played with the texture, so intrigued she didn't answer. Jayne exhaled. Not shaky. Firm. "Well? I ain't gonna take no girl and hear `bout rape later, ya got me? No cryin' wolf ta that brother o' yours." "Simon hears wolves in the ceiling," she replied calmly, releasing her attention. The grip was harsh, she knew. "He hears them everywhere, but not where he should. Lost." "Not much room for `im to get lost in, stuck on a boat like this," snorted Jayne. His hands found her hips, consensuality a more dubious thing, a play of emotion as it flickered on muscle. "Lots of room. But it's not him that's lost, it's you." "You're seein' gou shi where there ain't none. Best leave well `nough `lone on that front, xiao mei. I sure as `ell didn' bring ya in `ere ta gabble at me like I can un'erstand a mite o' your words. Get on with it." "Lost, lost, lost," she sing-songed, and without pause seated herself on his right thigh. "But, no, he won't give up. Those wolves lurk, but he ignores them. Strength or folly?" "Ben tian sheng de - ah! Holy gorram mother of fuck - " River applied more pressure on the bundle of flesh and nerves beneath the heel of her hand. "Reaction brought on by hormones, bred into the species to perpetuate it. Do you want to perpetuate with me?" Her eyes were bright, hazed with intensity. "What the hell else would I invite ya in for?" She regarded him evenly. Slipped her hand beneath his pants, over under in down, warm thick hard against her. "Sex." "Oh, le se, yes - That's what I meant." Harder, deeper breaths, now. Sweat shimmering on a reality long before it would atrophy. Curious. River moved her hand there, there, up, fingers grasping and curling. Tips brushed a hairy sac. She gently prodded them. Words tumbled from Jayne's vocal cords, straining and thrumming with tension. Licking the source of the noise brought her satisfaction. She didn't pay attention to the content, confident that it was unimportant, unnecessary; people were so superfluous. This fascination with reproduction seemed superfluous, truthfully, but she had yet to witness his ejaculate. Perhaps that would change things. Fumbling hands releashed the catch on his pants, and Jayne heaved a sigh of relief as his cock sprang free. It was thick, long in erection, twitching with stimuli. River's hand hadn't dislodged. He collapsed backwards against the bed, watching her through lust-dark eyes. "Go on, xiao mei," he said harshly, impatient yet anticipatory; "get on with it." Her hand stilled. River leaned down and, delicate and prim as any lady in waiting, flicked her tongue in a broad stroke across the head. She drew away and considered the taste, running her tongue along her lips. Jayne groaned and made desperate words of encouragement. The element of indespensible danger, unpredictability, made him hard. River was an unknown quantity. She was also satisfied. Having fulfilled her immediate purpose, she pulled the foreskin in quick jerks, her pale, slender hand confident as a virgin's never was. Teeth lightly set around the column of pulsing flesh; she felt the veins throbbing against her tongue. One or two in-drawn breaths, a quiet hum, an experiment. He came. The sensation of warm semen in her mouth made her screech. River grabbed the cloth of Jayne's pants, uncaring of its fabric, stuffed it in her mouth. By the time he returned from the drift of the post-coital nebula and took notice, it was too late. There was a large, obvious stain. Drawing backwards, River gagged a few more times, then spit fiercely on his stomach. He gave a cry of indignant protest, heaving forward and grasping with his arms to catch her, punish her, question her, cut into her slice her open make her answer make her learn make her make her feel pain pain make her - Silence. Warm breath in her ear. "Quiet, xiao mei," he rumbled, the strength an inexplicable comfort. A bare, tinny whisper. "I do not comprehend." "Don' rightly have to, do ya?" "But I - " "No. Let it go, River. It ain't important." The heat of the darkness pulsed around her, and her gaze lowered. Saw his flaccid penis and reached out to it, cradling it in her palm. "Not lost," she said. "Too much room to wander in." She looked up, into his eyes. "The black. You must let it go." Jayne released his arms from around her, settling back on his crouching legs. He chuckled breathlessly, spent and sated. "Yah, well, when I figure out what the gorram hell y' mean, I'll let ya know." Very seriously, she thanked him. He rolled his eyes. He kissed her. He drew her back down with him and grumbled. "C'mon, girl, sleep now. I gotta feelin' comin' ain't somethin' you're ready for." Sleep. "No," she whispered, face open, wonderous, scared in the black. Her eyes were bright again. "Not folly." ### The End ### From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Wed Jan 18 14:29:13 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Wed, 18 Jan 2006 14:29:13 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy 2:01(Mistletoe) through 2:03(Monday's Child) (0/2) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: 2:01(Mistletoe) through 2:03(Monday's Child) Series: Legacy Author: James the Dark Feedback: jamesthedark at hotmail.com Status: NEW - Series Rating: PG-13 Characters: Other - Jacob Greyson and the Crew of Legacy Summary: Legacy almost comes apart as the crew rescues Sylvia, a new foe is introduced, and Friday's past is finally revealed. This story is available at the archive: [117k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/201mistletoethrough.shtml From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Wed Jan 18 14:29:13 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Wed, 18 Jan 2006 14:29:13 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy 2:01(Mistletoe) through 2:03(Monday's Child) (1/2) Message-ID: 2:01(Mistletoe) through 2:03(Monday's Child) by James the Dark jamesthedark at hotmail.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Mistletoe Malcolm Reynolds eyes flew open at that sound, the sound of something docking with his ship. It had been so long, now. He'd gone to the rendezvous point, where Kell had bade them wait. He waited, as the ships showed up one after another. He waited as Kell transferred dishomed crew back to their original ships. He waited as the ships flew off, into the Black, one after another. He waited, and even Kell gave up and left. And still he waited. "Captain, we've got new arrivals," Kaylee's cheerful voice announced, and he was out of the pilot's seat like a shot. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. He practically jogged down the the cargo bay, almost running down the sweet girl in the process. He paced on the catwalks anxiously as the door was pulled open by the good doctor. His heart fell more'n a bit when he saw Zoe and Fredesa step out. Not who he was waiting for. Not at all. She was out there somewhere, he knew it. River would have told him if she wasn't. He almost marched right back to his seat and continued brooding. "Sir?" Zoe said, above the howling that Hoban was putting up. He was currently flailing about in Fredesa's arms, a definite change for the proud, protective woman. She hadn't even let Mal touch the kid for months. "It's good to have you back, Zoe," Mal said, glancing past her toward the door, which the doctor was swinging closed. "I take it you're alone?" "I count three of us, sir," Zoe pointed out. "Why, are you waiting for somebody else?" Reynolds frowned, unable to look his first mate in the eye for a moment. "Yes. Yes we are. You and Fredesa get squared away." "Dell, sir," Zoe corrected. "Dell?" "Dell." Mal rolled his eyes. Of course, it wouldn't be his ship unless his crew was backtalkin' him. "Fine then, Dell it is. Zoe, you and Dell get yourselves squared away." The two went their separate ways, Fredesa... Dell, headed toward the passenger dorms, and Zoe to her bunk. At least that hadn't got complicated while he wasn't looking. Simon had a look in his eye when he came up, so Mal turned to face him in all his captainy glory. "Captain," the doctor began. "Waiting here isn't going to do us any good." "Well aware of the problems, doctor," Mal responded, "but until we get back the rest of this crew, we ain't budging an inch." "It's been more than a week since anybody saw them, and they were covered in boarding craft and following the Reavers. Even you have to accept the possibility that," Simon seemed to be gaining momentum, a phenomenon Mal really didn't want to deal with right now. He shut him down. "We ain't having this conversation," he said, voice forced into a semblence of mildness. "Ain't never, have my way. We'll wait till the food runs out, if we have to." "Interesting," Simon said. "Because our stockpile won't last a fortnight." The doctor walked past him, muttering a curse about foolish old men as he went. Mal watched him leave. He should just leave. Jayne weren't too big a loss. Hell, with him not around, they'd save hundreds in food, thousands in medical supplies, liquor and deals gone south. River might be a bit forelorn about it, what with the nutty way she been actin' of late, but the crew'd be better off on the whole. He tried to tell himself that, at least. He also tried to tell himself that without... her around, he'd be able to think clear, not get turned about all the damn time. But he couldn't even fool himself on that, and he had it on fairly good authority that he was a master at self delusion. Shrouded in a fog of worry and self-pity, Mal found himself on the bridge. River had taken to staying below unless he specifically called for her. Then, like as not, she'd appear out of Jayne's ruttin' room. He didn't feel like company right now, though. He dropped himself in the pilot's chair, staring down the plastic dinosaurs which still guarded the pilot from sudden but inevitable betrayals. He couldn't take it. Not again. Not anymore. With a roar of impotent frustration, he swept the figures onto the floor and threw himself back down into the chair, cradling his head in his hands. "Inara," he whispered. "Where are you?" <> Jacob lurched toward the latest sound of crashing and unpleasantness, supporting as much of the weight as he could on the crutch Friday had helpfully left in the infirmery. It still hurt to walk. Hell, it still hurt to breath, with that gorram fluff shot through him like caulking. Sometimes when he coughed hard enough, some of it came out. Which was more'n a mite unsettling. "I am not liking that sound, Zane," He yelled. Or rather, tried to. It was hard to get any sort of volume with a twitchy lung. "All's fine, boss," Zane said over his shoulder as he darted past the door. "Not to fret." Of course, Zane had to be lying. The gorram engine was on fire. That was not a thing which inspired confidence, seein' flames coming out of any part of the ship, especially the one which makes the ship go. "Zane?" "What, boss?" "Your engine's on fire," Zane cast a glance toward where Jacob pointed, started, and grabbed a fire extinguisher. "Fix it." "Jacob, bao bei, you shouldn't be up," Anne's concerned voice said behind him. He felt her trying to guide him back down the the infirmery, but he was too stir-crazy to stay there right now. He glanced at her, but she'd taken place at his right side. His blind side. "Ain't goin' back down there," Jacob said. "I just can't. Gotta be up and about. Pa always said the best way to cripple a man is let him recover too long." "Your father sounds like an interesting man," Anne said, now dragging him away from the engine room. "I'll have to meet my new inlaws sometime." "Meeting mine is about as likely as meeting yours," Jacob muttered. "Pa had a heart attack two years ago, and Ma got took by a stroke back near a decade." Anne frowned up at him. "Y'ain't never said anything about them before." "Didn't think it mattered. Where are we headed? Miranda?" Jacob asked. "Our path takes us well away from the Burnham quadrent," Anne said. "You're giving up?" his voice grew very tight and low. "You ain't listening," Anne said. "They ain't headed back to the planet. They's headed somewhere else." "Well, this is all kinds of fun," Jacob muttered. She tried to guide him down the stairs to the infirmery, but he momentumed his way into the kitchen, and from there into the fore-corridor. She still tugged at him, but she didn't want to hurt him. He was counting on that. Carefully, he lowered himself into the copilot's seat, wincing as the wound twisted a mite. Gorram if that didn't hurt still, after a whole week. He'd love to get Friday back on his boat. That'd fix him up. Getting Sylvia back, though, would be better. Finally realizing she wasn't getting him back into the infirmery, Anne surrendered and sat herself down in her seat, fixing him with a hot glare. "This ain't makin' a touch of difference." "Anne." "Common sense, bao bei," she said softly. "Them's got took by Reavers either die or are better off that way. She's gone, Jacob." Jacob locked his eye onto hers. "She's not gone. Not until I say she is." "You wantin' don't make it happen," she said quietly. "Why are you fightin' so hard for her?" "She's a part of my crew," Jacob said simply. Anne's look became distant. "And if it was me?" she asked. "Never gonna happen." "If it was me?" she asked again. Jacob sighed, staring off into the black. "If it was you, ain't a power in the 'Verse'd stop me from finding you." Zane appeared then, looking a bit scorched and a bit sad. "Boss," said he, "we've got a problem." "Don't want to hear problems, Zane. What I want is to hear solutions. Get that engine turning. Get us moving." "Not going to happen, boss," Zane shrugged. "We've been runnin' ragged on an engine that had a Reaver monkeywrench tossed into it. It was just a matter of time before it quit. And sure picked a sweet bung of a spot to quit, didn't it?" "It's not a Capissen 38, is it?" Jacob asked. "No." "Then you can fix it, so ruttin' fix it!" he shouted, then succumbed to a fit of painful coughing. "Anne?" Zane implored, but she shook her head. "Look, boss, when I say ain't gonna happen, I really do mean it. The primary grav-couple housing's up and shattered. Without that, we're runnin' on reaction drive only, and that won't barely even outrun one of the shuttles." "Replace it, then," Jacob coughed up another red and white glob. "Use them parts we picked up after Liann Juin." "Da-shiong bao jah shr duh lah du-tze, you're not listening to me," Zane finally shouted. "The housing's damn near the only custom piece this ship's got. Ain't nobody but another Firefly'd have one. Only way we're gettin' another is if another Firefly just happens to come along, or if I make one m'self." "Then make one!" Jacob ordered, forcing himself to his feet. "I intend to run down those bungers. I intend to get back my crew, the way it was. And I ain't havin' that coasting in the Black, dohn luh muh?" "Fine," Zane said loudly. "Fine!" Jacob shouted back. His voice left him after that, so his next words came out quiet and gravely. "Get to work." Zane cast one more glance back, somewhat hurt, it looked like, and vanished back into the ship. Jacob lowered himself back into the seat. Anne dropped herself on his knees, facing him. "What the hell?" "So you don't get up again and do something stupid," she explained. Her eyes were beginning to glimmer. "I thought I was losing you, back there. I don't want that. If that means I have to hold you down, I will." "Ain't leavin' you in this world, bao bei," he whispered, his throat still achin' him somethin' fierce. "Ain't never gonna." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tight. He struggled to hold back a hiss of pain as her admittedly meager weight pressed against his injury. Her fingers began to bite into his shoulder blades, the way she did when she was sleeping. "I was just... so afraid I was going to lose you." "Not in this 'Verse, ki zi, not in this 'Verse." She remained in that position a good long time, simply clutching herself to him and trembling. Her head was buried against his shoulder as she shook. Was she crying? He couldn't tell. She wasn't one for weeping, usually, but once she started, she had a tendency to go on for a while. There were a lot of tears stored up in that little frame. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just thought," Inara said as she noticed the two. "What is it?" Jacob asked as if nothing were out of the ordinary. She didn't seem to need to be pushed further, making him wonder if the crew over on Serenity got grapply or weepy more often than he gave them credence for. "I heard from Zane that you were up and about. Which, by the way, I disapprove of." "If I wanted a medical opinion, I'd talk to a doctor," he said. "What are you here about?" The Companion sighed. "You have to accept the possibility that Sylvia might be dead." "Why does everybody think I need to hear that today?" he asked, eye hard and sharp on Serra's own. "She's alive. I know it, and more important your own pilot, River, knows it." "Oh, yes," she scoffed. "Let's bring that little vision of River into this, shall we? A vision that tells you exactly what you want to hear, that none of the rest of us, conveniently enough, can't see." "Jayne seen it, too," Jacob pointed out. "Jayne," she began, and found herself caught between entirely too many negative things to say, and not enough time her natural lifetime in which to say them. "Jayne is a fool." "Shouldn't be talkin' 'bout folk behind their backs," the mercenary said as he entered the cockpit. "Might hurt their feelin's." "We both know you don't have feelings," Inara snapped. Jayne scowled. "I didn't come here lookin' for a fight," he retorted. He then seemed to notice the position Anne had taken. "What in the hell's she doin'? Shouldn't you to be doin' that in yer bunk?" "Does this disturb you?" Jacob asked flatly. "More'n a little." Jacob rolled his eye. "What's this about, Jayne?" "Done cut the last of them things loose. Patched up the hull, too. Weren't easy with the li'l 'un flyin' us so crazy." "Might want to watch your tone around my wife," Jacob pointed out. "What's next?" Inara asked. "We're dead in the water 'till Zane fixes up a part. Till then, ain't really nothin' to do," Jacob said quietly. "Shiny," Jayne muttered. "I'll be in my bunk." "You don't have a bunk," Inara said. Jayne paused in his turn. "Right," he said slowly. "You know where I'll be." As the last of them left the room, Jacob shifted his weight, drawing another spike of pain from his chest, to get a look at his wife. She was crying, eyes shut as she sobbed. He wondered if she was even aware of what was happening around her. Sometimes, when she lost control of one thing, a lot of other things went buggy too. "Anne?" he asked. She tilted her head to glance at him. Her cheeks were quite damp. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just..." "Don't ever apologize," Jacob said softly. "It doesn't matter what you do. I'll be here for you. It's what I signed up for," he grinned somewhat. "I accepted you, strangeness and all, four years back when we started sharing a bed. Have I ever asked why you get clingy when you go to sleep?" "I do not get clingy," she protested. "Oh, you most certainly do." She smiled then, a weak, uncertain smile, but a smile nonetheless. She rested her cheek against his shoulder. "Do not." "Boss, I can f..." Zane announced as he charged up onto the bridge. Then, he saw the pair of them in their crippled embrace and hesitated, making as if to leave. "I ain't cuttin' in on a moment here, am I? "Life is but a series of moments, Zane," Jacob recited. "What is it?" "I can rig up somethin' that'll work like a grav-couple housing, but it won't last long. Might only take us out the day, might last us a week. Sure as hell won't run for a month, though." "If it'll work rig it up," Jacob said. "Here's the kicker. Full burn is out of the question. We try pipin' more juice through this thing than one hundred percent, it'll fry faster than you can say... don't full burn or the thing'll... fry..." "Then do it. I'll take whatever you can give. How long to rig this up." "It'll take the rest of the day, at least," Zane said. Jacob sighed. "Then get started," every hour they spent coasting along was an hour that they were getting farther away. As the mechanic left the cockpit, Jacob found himself running his fingers along Anne's short, curling hair. He tried to remember a time when things was simple. <> Kaylee frowned at Mal as he stared bleakly at the slim fare which had been set before him. As edible as it looked, he didn't have the slightest inclination to touch it. He knew that no matter how good a cook that Friday was, it'd just taste like ashes. Weren't much left to him, nowadays. "Captain?" Kaylee said quietly. "Y'ain't touched your dinner." Mal gave her a level glance. "Looks awful tasty!" she said with a hopeful smile. Mal didn't even look up. "You should eat," Simon said in the breach. "Starvation might take days to set in, but malnutrition can make it difficult to..." "Simon," the other doctor's voice sounded, smooth and sensual. "I ain't exactly what you'd call couth, but that ain't proper dinner conversation." "We're tryin' to get him to eat," Kaylee whispered, more than a bit too loud to be confidencial. Friday frowned, pulling off the slim spectacles and frowning at the captain for a moment. "If you don't eat," Friday said. "You'll get stupid. You get stupid, you won't find her." Mal frowned at her, but still couldn't bring himself to eat. The doctors both shook their heads in almost the exact same disdainful way. The crew exodused around him, leaving him staring at the admittedly somewhat attractive dinner the other doc had whipped up. It also marked the last of the canned food. Now, all they had left was protein in all the colors of the rainbow and that scum in the water-purifiers. "Sir?" the no-nonsense voice that had stood beside him for entirely too long to be ignored. He looked up, seeing Zoe staring down at him with a more than slightly unimpressed look on her face. "What is it?" "Are you really going to do something this stupid, sir?" Zoe asked. "Stupid?" "Yes, stupid. As in where you stop eating because someone you care about isn't around." "I don't think we ought be havin' this conversation," Malcolm said. Of course, that was when Zoe caught his shirt and hauled him to his feet, then pitched him forward into his dinner. "Gorramit, woman, what in the hell're y'doing?" "If you don't want to eat, I'll shove it down your rutting throat, sir," she said flatly. "Trust me, I've gained a lot of experience feeding uncooperative infants." Malcolm struggled for a moment, but even with a kid on the ground, she was still more than able to manhandle him. "Fine, I'll eat. Just let go of my gorram neck." Zoe let him flop back into his seat and pick off the vegetables which had become stuck to his face. "You didn't need to do that," he muttered. "Yes, I surely did, sir." her back was still perfectly straight, but there was a sense of her loosening. It was something she only did around two men that Mal could remember, and he was one of them. "Sir, I know what this is about." "I surely think you don't." Her face went blank. "We were both there. We got chewed up and spat out. I didn't have much keepin' me going. Then you brought that annoying pilot with his plastic dinosaurs, which I noticed you spread out onto the floor, and I found myself a husband. We got tore up plenty again after Miranda, and I lost my mister. Things got bleak. But I'm still here. I've lost more than any-damn-body on this ship. I lost my family twice, lost my man, near lost Hoban, but I'm still here. So are you. You didn't die in Serenity Valley, sir, so stop the hell actin' like you did." Mal stared his first mate in the eye for a long moment. "Is that all?" "For now, sir." "Well," he said, picking the last of the food from his mug. "I'll just finish my dinner then. Y'ought maybe be seein' to that rugrat of yours." "Just maybe ought, sir," she said, waiting until he'd actually bitten into something before leaving. Friday brushed past her in the other direction. Mal noticed she was carrying a guitar with her as she dropped herself down in the puffy chair. Mal must have been giving a what-the-hell look, 'cause she slid them glasses back up onto her nose and smiled at him. He was shocked at how much it reminded him of Inara, despite the fact that the two women had only the barest resemblence. "I've got to keep practicing, don't want to get rusty," she said, tuning her instrument. "Got any requests?" "Not as such, no." Friday plucked a few experimental strings, then glanced off pensively. "I've got one. Writ by a soldier from the Valley." she began to strum the chords of a tune he felt he'd heard before, a song which was a part of him. "Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand," she sang, her voice ringing clean and clear throughout the closed space. "I don't care, I'm still free, 'cause you can't take the sky for me. Take me out into the black, tell 'em I ain't comin' back. Burn the land, and boil the sea: you can't take the sky from me. Take your war, I've found my peace, to soar where I find my release. You lock me up, but I'm still free, 'cause you can't take the sky from me. No one place that I can be, since I seen Serenity. You can't take the sky from me, no, you can't take the sky from me." As she continued to strum, Mal glanced over his shoulder, spying River standing at the theshold of the fore-corridor. She was draped in Jayne's Fighting Elves shirt, and her hair was in even more marked disarray than usual. Feet, as they often were, bare. He stared. She stared back. At long last, she nodded slowly. "I'll set a course," she whispered between the notes. <> "So," Inara said, breaking into the long, awkward silence that had invaded the dinner table. It had been almost a week since Zane's little mishap with the engines that sent them limping on their ways. Each day saw the crew getting more and more pessimistic about their captain's plan. The man ate his meal mechanically, despite the surprising quality of it. "How about something to dispel the mood?" "What've you got in mind?" Zane asked, instantly chipper. "Tell me," she swept her dark, penetrating eyes around the table, "what you find most attractive in a mate." "The eyes! No, the nose," Zane said. "Wait, that's not it... you know that spot on a woman's lower back? Just above the pi gu?" She tried to focus the cycle the other direction, simply to avoid Jayne being next, but he stomped right into the spot, conversationally speaking, without hesitation. "Soft lips," Jayne said, sprawing a bit of food onto the table in the process. Inara looked a bit surprised by his answer. "I thought you never kissed them on the lips?" she asked. "I don't," he said, a lascivious grin on his face. "Ugh. Remind me never to talk to you again," Inara grunted. "Anne?" "Weight," she said, staring at Jacob. "Excuse me?" "Solidity, substance. If you got that, you can fall asleep and know that they'll still be there in the morning." Inara nodded to concede the point. There was certainly something to be said for not waking up alone. Some of her clients paid extra to be cuddled. A great many more simply walked away, which made very little sense to her. "And what about you?" she asked the captain. His gaze swung from his wife to his passenger. "The ability to look a man in the eye and say 'no, and no amount of money will change that'." Jayne burst into raucous, messy laughter, almost falling out of his seat. Zane looked at the mercenary next to him for a moment. "Did I miss something?" he asked. "That's almost 'xactly what Mal said when she asked that," Jayne managed to say between guffaws. While he was snickering, he seemed to have his attention diverted to the currently empty nook. Inara simply shook her head beautifically. "I was refering to physical attraction," she said softly. "Oh, well then," Jacob pondered for a moment. "Nothing." "Excuse me?" "Physical attraction is learned. Before I met my dearly beloved, I had a set of physical cues which got me all hot and bothered, and not a one of them is shared by my Anne," he placed his hand on her far shoulder and drew her toward him. "However, in the time since, everything I find attractive is in her. The height, the weight, the skin, the hair, the eyes. It's all secondary to what's under 'em." "Well," Inara muttered. "That's somewhat romantic." "Ah hell," Jayne muttered, his face shining with terror. Jacob stared at the mercenary for a long moment. From what he'd heard, there was only one thing the man feared. "What is it?" Jacob asked, his question ending just as the proximity alarms began to call from the cockpit. Usually, since the sensors were so damn powerful on this ship, they didn't start up till somethin' was damn near at spittin' distance. Out here, Anne had rigged them to start singin' the instant anything popped onto the screen, at any distance. She'd pulled free and ran up into her domain in a heartbeat. Jacob followed a few steps behind, leaning over her shoulder as she interpreted the readings the ship was feeding her. "What is it?" he asked quietly, knowing full well that there weren't nothing else this far out. Even though they'd been headed in a direction markedly not toward Miranda for a hell of a while, by which he meant. "Hold on," she muttered, her face deapan as she concentrated. "All I'm reading right now is moving metal. Could just be a rogue comet." "Then why's Jayne actin' like we're about to get hit by..." "Reavers!" she shouted, turning in her chair. "Zane, get your skinny ass up here!" "Anne?" he said. "We've got a pair of Crabs coming from dead forward," she growled as she readied Legacy for whatever they needed of her. "We gettin' Reavers?" Jayne's booming voice sounded from the back of the cockpit, sounding more that of a child than the foul-mouthed mercenary it belonged to. A glance back showed he'd already gotten his weapons. "River?" Jacob asked. Jayne nodded. "Will somebody get this rou di-duo mao di kiang out of my way?" Zane muttered, having to sqeeze himself between Jayne and the doorframe. "Reavers?" Anne nodded. "Where are they?" Jacob asked, staring off into the Black. He couldn't see anything. "They're a ways out. Zane?" "Ready," He said, seating himself in the 'gunners' chair. "Where they at?" the mercenary muttered. There was a brutal silence as the 'Verse collapsed to about ten square feet. "There!" she shouted as the first of them was hit by the light she'd started swinging around. Two of them, bearing right down on them; 'Crab' landing craft. Those things'd ram the ship, dig in with their claws, and dump their cargo of Reavers inside. Legacy was already tore up plenty from her last run in with Crabs. "I've got it," Zane muttered, eyes locked forward. He let out a laugh as the missile shot free of its launcher, streaking through the black toward the closer of the Crabs. It was about to strike when the craft jerked away, letting the thing streak past it. As the missile tried to loop back around, it slammed directly into the second. "That was... lucky," Anne muttered. The Crab began to drift erratically, and the one which had dodged the attack looped back around, headed back toward its wounded fellow. Another contrail reached out into the void, still streaking toward the first. This time, its target dropped itself behind the already wounded craft and halted, sacrificing the debilitated craft. As the ship began to drift apart, the remaining Crab thrust straight at them. Anne drew the craft away, setting the ship into overburn and throwing everybody not holding onto something into the back wall. "What's the plan?" Jacob asked, holding his chest where the wound tore at him from his wife's mad maneuvering. "Sometimes," she said with an odd smile, "you gotta roll a hard six." Jayne frowned. "What th'hell's a hard six?" "Y'all better hold onto somethin'," Anne said, which was all the warning she gave before flicking some switches and sawing at the controls. The ship lurched painfully, metal screaming as it was stressed beyond tolerance. A loud bang sounded from the engine room, no doubt Zane's replacement part quitting with great gusto, and the stars spun in front of the ship. Finally, when the ship, and Jacob's head, for that matter, stopped spinning, the Crab was directly in front the ship. Zane didn't hesitate for a second, letting fly another missile. That's when the damndest thing happened. The gorram missile exploded early, hittin' nothing but Black. The Crab streaked past it, latching itself to the spine of the now crippled ship. Zane leapt up from his seat, sprinting past the wretched sounds of tearing metal and to his engines. Jacob dragged the hulking mercenary down the corridor and pointed his Mauser at the hole which had been torn into the cieling of the kitchen. The shrieking stopped. And they waited. "Not that I ain't relieved," Jayne said, staring down a particularly large rifle, "but ain't them supposed to be comin' on?" The hole remained. Vacant. Jacob loped painfully to the side of the table and looked up, trying to gain a glimpse of what could be inside. That was when the black blur dropped out, landing awkwardly on the table. Jayne had the gun pointed at the figure in a moment, but Jacob swatted the weapon away as he beheld a pair of blue-green eyes staring out of a blood-coated face. "Syl?" he asked. Her clothes had been shredded badly, and no small amount of that blood appeared to be hers. Her eyes flit around the room, and her lips writhed. Her hand, scarlet from fingertips to elbow, where her clothing extended no further, reached up toward him. "H...H..." Jacob leaned closer. Sylvia's hand pressed against his cheek. "Home." "Son of a bitch!" Jayne muttered, and Sylvia's eyes rolled back and her brutalized form became limp. <> It had been a week since they'd left the rendezvous point. Seven days. One hundred sixty eight hours, give or take a few. Every damn one of them felt like an eternity. He hadn't asked the li'l albatross where she had him headed. With Zoe and F...Dell on board, weren't no reason to go back to Paquin and Brownlee's. He'd spent most of his time below decks. In the cargo bay, when it was dark, in his bunk when it weren't. Just couldn't face down them newlyweds, all happy and such, mood he was in. It didn't seem right for everything to be going right for everybody but... not him, he guessed. Things never went smooth for him and he didn't expect that'd ever change. Still, every second he spent flying through the Black felt like another second he'd abandoned her. River wouldn't even talk to him anymore, and she didn't look too good. Like she hadn't had any sleep in a week. She wouldn't talk to anybody, but she always seemed to be muttering, always too low for anyone to hear. Zoe tried to confront him again, but with his door locked, all she could do was call him an idiot and wait. She must have given up at some point, 'cause when he went up for something to nibble on, she was nowhere to be found. He hadn't taken much, yesterday, but he still hadn't gotten around to finishing it. He just wasn't hungry. He was so far beyond desparation that he was willing to sell his soul, had he believed he had one, or a convenient forum at which to sell it. Having nothing else he could do, Malcolm Reynolds tried something he hadn't done in years. Malcolm Reynolds got down and prayed. He had drifted off at some point during this last, most desparate ploy, his head coming to rest on his bed and everything else on the floor. The hiss of the door becoming unlocked pulled him back into conciousness. "Gorram it, Zoe, I ain't in any sort of mood for this right now," he growled, leaving his head against the mattress. The sounds of boots falling against the ladder vexed him. He grumbled again. "For the last time, I," he said, pulling his head off the mattress and rising to his feet. Suddenly, he felt all the words falling away. <> Jayne stared at the door as the shuttle locked into place. Looked like it were the middle of the night on Serenity, and was about as good a time to show up as any. Christmas present, River had said. Well, smack him around if it weren't Christmas Eve. The captain a' Legacy, that Greyson fella, had taken the duty of runnin' the two of them back to their home. He weren't too bad a fella, Jayne thought. Not nearly as crotchety as Mal, didn't have nearly the problems with the womanfolk. More'n welcome a change to that damn tension Mal and 'Nara always seemed to throwin' around. Inara pulled the door open, glidin' through in one of Jacob's doc's robes, confrontin' the woman herself what owned the robe. Friday, her name was, smiled as she beheld the two of them, and beyond them, Jacob. The Asian woman leaned in close to Inara, whisperin' something Jayne couldn't quite catch. She also slipped something into the Companion's hand, paper, looked like. Jayne frowned. Not worth thinkin' on. "Well, this is your stop," Jacob said slowly, still favorin' that hurt in his chest. Jayne couldn't rightly blame him. Closest he ever got to somethin' like that was when the crazy one came at him with a butcher knife. Jacob stared at the merc, makin' him all manner of uncomfortable for a while. "She might not be all there," Greyson said quietly, more'n like just between the two of them. "But she don't have to be." Jayne glared at the smaller man. Jacob smiled disarmingly. "Pa always said I shoulda been a shrink. Don't be a stranger, mister Cobb." Jayne was shaking his head as he went out the door. He made it about four steps on the catwalk before he got hit by a flying weight. A little flying weight with arms and legs. And long, black hair. He felt another mouth pressed against his own, and he struggled a bit to shrug her off. Weren't no good, though. She had him good. Finally, when she was done, River pulled back with a beaming smile. "What the hell?" he asked loudly. Without breaking eye contact, the little girl... little woman, he guessed... pointed straight up. "Mistletoe," she said brightly. And damn it if there weren't a sprig of that crap right above their heads when he looked up. Appearantly sated, she let go and skipped away, leaving one very baffled mercenary staring after her. Inara also stared after the young pilot, possibly every bit as confusticated as he was. "I didn't," Jayne began. "Just," she responded, "too insane... to be your fault." Jayne nodded in agreement. Doc might say she was on the mend, but that girl was gettin' more feng kuang every time he looked at her. The shuttle was already liftin' off, Jacob and his doc in tow as they headed back to their ship what done parked a short ways off, and Jayne shuffled the confused Companion out in front of him. Just as they reached the top of the stairs, River's head popped around the corner. "Captain wants you," she said to Inara. "What does he want?" she asked, somewhat miffed soundin'. "Captain wants you," she said again, not seemin' to understand why Inara didn't get it. "Go to him." Inara rolled her eyes and glided past the pilot, no doubt on her way to trade words with that contrary capt'n. Now, though, River was staring right at him. "What?" he demanded. She just stared at him and smiled that little, creepifyin' smile. "I ain't gettin' you a Christmas present." "You already did," she responded. Jayne grunted, not feelin' like dealin' with this right now. As he pushed past the li'l 'un, he growled to nobody in particular. "I'll be in my bunk." <> "River said you wanted me?" Inara said as she beheld the confounded looking Mal standing in front of his bunk. He was, she was surprised to see, stripped to the waist, and had a from his mattress pressed into his forehead. He just stared at her. "Well," she began. "I've been aboard five minutes and you haven't called me a whore yet. That must be a new record. Whatever it is you want, I assure, you, I can explain." Mal blinked, standing unsteadily in the middle of his room. "I believed in the Alliance, Mal. I always did. I never questioned what they were doing to make my life the way it was. But since... then... I haven't been able to... Back on Osiris, that girl was being... She made me so angry, and I just... I hit her." Mal didn't offer his opinion. "I know, you keep saying that one should never hit another with a closed fist, however hilarious it is. That's what tipped the scales. I had to do this, Mal. I had to be on the right side, instead of the winning one." She paused for a moment. "Mal?" He hadn't said a word since he caught sight of her, just stared at her. Staring, and smiling. She wasn't sure whether he scooped her up or she leapt into his arms, but before she knew it, their lips were locked and she felt the 'Verse disappearing around her. All that remained was the two of them. She felt herself being placed, oh so gently, on the tiny cot against the wall of the room. "Wait," she said, pushing Mal away for a moment. "What does this mean?" Something happened to Mal's eyes, a fire that had burned so bright and so hot, doused. His smile dropped away and he stood up. "I don't know," he said despondently. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back down beside her, an act a great deal easier than she thought it would be. She caught his chin between her fingers and stared into those eyes. "Good answer," she said, kissing him again. She broke away for a moment. "Just promise me one thing." "What is it?" he asked. "No pirate jokes." Mal smiled very wide as she undid the belt to her robe. "Yarr," he said. It was the last word he said for a very long time. <> "That'll do you," Friday said, pulling the stitches closed on his wounded chest. "Should be right as rain in no time flat." Jacob nodded gravely. He pulled his shirt down over the wound and stared out onto the slab, to where Sylvia had been laid out. Since she had literally dropped in on them, she hadn't regained consciousness. When they'd cleaned her off, they discovered she had taken very few wounds during her stay. "What about her?" he asked. "Excuse me?" she muttered. "Sylvia. Have you figured out what's wrong with her?" "Not yet," Friday said. "It's a good thing you saved her stomach contents, though. I found these." She slid the pan toward him, and he looked inside. "Ai ya, tyen ah," he whispered as the partially digested human fingers rolled in the pan. He looked back at his friend, laid out and looking so helpless. If he was right, she was anything but. Never before had he hoped more that he was wrong. "What?" she asked, putting the last of her things away. "Don't leave her alone, not ever. Tie her down," he said. "Take everything sharp or pointed out of this room, and lock it when you leave." "This is insane," Friday said. "You're making her sound like a..." "Reaver," Jacob finished grimly. "She spent fourteen days endurin' what drives the strongest insane inside four hours. Ain't got any proper idea what's going to be greeting us when she wakes up." "Boss?" came Zane's voice from behind him. "What is it?" "Legacy's hurtin' bad. We've got to get some place to patch her up," the mechanic answered. "Ain't no place anywhere near here," Jacob swore. "Not quite, boss," Zane interjected. "There's Mister Universe." "Zane, that place is abandoned." "I wouldn't offer it if I didn't know what I was talkin' 'bout, boss." Jacob sighed. "Tell Anne where to fly," he said, suddenly feeling very exhausted. "You should get some rest, Jacob," Friday said gently. Jacob nodded. "You know," he whispered, pulling out his gun, "I really should." A Question of Sins "We close enough now?" Jacob asked. The mechanic nodded, and the captain flicked on a screen in front of the pilot's chair. Or at least, he tried to. "Why the hell won't this thing turn on?" he asked his wife and pilot, who was lounging in the mentioned chair staring up toward him. She smiled a bit with a shrug. "I had them disconnected," she said simply. "Now why in the hell would you do that?" he asked gently. "Mayhaps I don't like the idea of folk watchin' me when I'm flyin'. Or when we're finding other uses for this chair." "Oh, God, make it stop," Zane feigned disgust. He flipped a few switches on the copilot's seat, and waved the captain over. The Cortex screen flickered own, showing a middle aged gentleman with bright eyes and hair just beginning to get shot through with grey. Despite the physical symptoms of age, the way he grinned as the screen popped on made him seem Zane's age. "Zane!" the man shouted. "Can't say I expected to see you again, after that last business." "We both came out alive. Well, except for that bottle they broke 'cross your head," Zane laughed. "Hey, that really hurt. Weren't like you got much better. If I recall, there were pool cues..." the man responded gamely. "Zane?" Jacob asked. "What the hell?" "Oh, right," Zane said. "This is Jacob Greyson, captain of this little boat." "Yeah, noticed you were callin' a mite closer than any planet," the man's gaze flit around, as if taking in feeds from other screens. "I told you you'd never last long on the ground, and Jiangyin's about as grounded as a fella can get. What kinda ship is she?" "Firefly. More'n a bit banged up, though. Thinkin' we should be spending some time on Ion patchin' our hurt," the man nodded, staring at something else above the camera that was recording his image. Finally, the man turned and shouted to something in the background. "Fi! Feed that IFF into the FCS," he shouted. "Don't want the autoguns knockin' you out of the sky, I think?" "Fi?" Jacob asked. "I'm still waitin' on hearing who the hell you are." "Ain't it obvious?" the man said, spreading his arms. "I'm Mister Universe." "Mister Universe is dead," Jacob pointed out. "Mister Universe can't never die," the man laughed. "Can't stop the signal, and where there's a signal, there's Mr. Universe," Jacob and Zane shared a look. "Hey, don't make faces." "So," Jacob declared. "You've moved in and set up shop?" "Could say that. By now you should be reading the Ion Cloud. It'll play merry hob with your sensors, but pretty pretty lights and a few miles later you'll be on our doorstep. Patch your hurt, you said?" he asked. "We're kinda bleedin' out the ears," Zane admitted. Mr. Universe leaned away from the camera gain. "Bao bei, wake up that lazy-ass brother of Fi's and tell him we got a job for him," he yelled. "How many a' y'all are down there?" Jacob asked. "Me and the miss, Fi and her brother." "Mister Universe worked alone," Jacob said. "I ain't him," the current Mr. Universe said sadly. "I'll see you when you hit the planet." "Wait, where the hell on the planet are we supposed to go? This ain't exactly the biggest moon we ever saw, but still." "Just follow the Fruity Oaty Bar in," he said with a grin. As soon as the words were gone, the commercial began. "Fruity Oaty Bars, make a man out of a mouse," it cheerfully belted, and Jacob stared close at the screen. Nearly the same color as the insane background was a set of coordinates. "Shoot that over to Anne," he said, walking to her console, which caught the thing right as the squid made its appearance. "Eat them all the time, let us blow your mind!" it continued. Jacob shook his head. He never understood what these folk were thinkin' making a commercial that was so unforgivably odd. Jingle was catchy as hell, though. That there was utter cruelty. "You catch that?" Jacob asked. Anne grinned almost childishly. She turned to the mechanic. "Play it again!" Jacob rubbed his eye as that damned tune started playing again. <> Mister Universe didn't usually get visitors. Sure, he did get a lot of requests for information, or help hacking a system, but when it came to meeting folk, he didn't get much of a chance to hone his skills. So when that ship made its fairly ungraceful landing on his hidden landing pad, looking no small bit tore up, he was itching to see some new faces. Miss Universe was as always by his side. She didn't completely understand her husband's obsession with 'the signal', but she'd sworn to stand by her man. He'd already been there while they raised their children into adulthood. Now, by her estimation, he was retired. That, she could understand. The ramp slid down part of the way, but jammed, forcing its occupants to crawl out around the edge. When they finally dropped to the ground, Mister Universe took his first step toward them. Most of them looked more'n a little banged up themselves. The captain, Greyson by name, clutched at a spot on his chest, and Zane had a bruise, nearly gone, just above his left ear. The crew, limping though it was, made their way to him, Zane outstripping all of them with his long, ground eating strides. When the two men met, both paused. Not exactly sure how to progress, he warrented. "It's good to see you again, Zane," Mister Universe said, extending his hand. Zane grinned and accepted it. "Likewise, Verne," the mechanic said, before turning to the older man's wife. "And Shelley, ain't seen you in a dog's life." "Zane?" Mister Universe muttered. "Shuh muh?" "Why'd you go and do that?" he asked. "Do what?" "Tell them my name?" The mechanic laughed. By this point, Greyson finally made his way to where the two had met in the middle. "Boss here thinks you could do with a head-deflatin', so deflate your head I do." "Verne," Greyson said with a deadpan face. "Look what you've done," Verne muttered. "I have a reputation to keep, you know?" "Cole still workin' for you?" Zane asked, looping his arm around the shorter man's shoulders. "Of course!" Verne "Couldn't run this place without him and his sister." "His sister," Zane smiled distantly. "You're gonna have to introduce us. Don't think I've met her yet." "Look," Verne interrupted. "We may be friends, but I can't just wave my hands and repair your ship. It's not exactly cheap just running this little operation, and I don't have nearly the skill at tapping accounts as the last Mister Universe did." "Won't be a problem," Jacob said. "We've got a good deal of right cashy money coming our way and coming quick." "Hate to say it, though," Verne muttered. "That ship doesn't look like it's worth saving. I can get you a great deal on a Dragonfly, though. Great engine, low mileage..." "Cost ain't exactly an object," Jacob said. "Whatever it takes, point of fact." Mister Universe shook his head. "I never could understand why some get so attached to their ship." "They get attached out of love," Zane said. "Love keeps a ship in the air. And you not havin' none for yours is what dropped her on that mu yi di nao tan keh moon four years back." Verne scowled. "I thought you didn't know Chinese?" "Had to pick it up sometime." He shook his head. "Fine. Anything else I can get you? A first class ticket on the El Dorado? A signed Ace of Spades from Jack Leland? Cargohold full of cattle?" "Actually," Jacob said, keeping up despite his obvious pain. "We need you to send a Wave to Logan Kell. He's got one of our crew on his ship, as well as the cashy money I done spoke on." Verne glanced at his wife, and his hands twitched in quiet sign language to her. "You haven't weighed in on this, Shelley. What's your opinion?" His wife, born deaf, looked back at him. "I wasn't paying attention. It is company though," she signed back. "I do miss having company." <> It was a boring job. There were no two ways about that. Every day, he'd come in to work, make sure everything was the same place it was the day before, and walk out having done nothing of any note whatsoever. It was stable, and safer than any job he could think of, but by God it was dull. Mostly, he spent the time writing. He wasn't a professional, by any stretch of the imagination, but in a job like this, one had a lot of free time, and not much else to fill it with. The New Paris depository wasn't exactly the most exciting place to be. Neither, in point of fact, was Bernadette on whole, but the Rim Yokels never seemed to tire of goggling at the Prometheus, or wandering New Paris' somewhat meager promanades. Despite being deeper in the Core than any planet in the system, Bernadette felt entirely too much like a Border world. One particular line was snagging at him. A line of dialogue between his two protagonists, now at each other's throats. He couldn't quite figure out how to make the exchange seem brutal and unrehearsed. His wife said sometimes he made people say things they couldn't think of in the situations he put them in. She knew what she was talking about, he admitted, but he didn't want his characters yehawing and ain'ting like some backwater rube. It just wasn't civilized. Samuel got up from his station and went back into the kitchen to dump out the now cold coffee and pour himself another mug. The machine was near empty, so he took the time to brew up an entirely new batch. In his head, he kept running through lines, possibilities. Something that would be noble, yet spontaneous. He wracked his brain as the coffee percolated, but nothing came. Nothing his wife would agree to, anyway. Finally, he poured himself a mug of fresh coffee and took a sip. That was one of the few good things about this job: working for the Parliment meant he didn't have to put up with the Blue Sun brand Coffee. Yes, it was coffee, but that was it. This place shelled out for the premium blends, things more of his taste. He smiled a bit, and returned back down that long corridor to his lonely workplace. When he pushed the door open, he almost dropped his cup. An Asian man was sitting on the corner of Samuel's desk, fingers lightly pressing on a DataBook that had been removed from its niche. Near him, a tall, lithe blonde woman was running her eyes along the wall from which it had been retrieved. She was fully dressed, and well dressed besides, but he had to actively coach his brain away from uncivil thoughts. "Excuse me?" Samuel said. "Can I help you?" "That depends," the Asian man said. "It depends on whether you know what we want to." "I'm sorry," Samuel said. Three weeks without a single visitor, and now two. And both more than a touch unsettling, in his humble opinion. "You shouldn't be in here without clearance." The blonde turned to him, brushing a strand of her short hair away from her eye and stared at him. Samuel swollowed. "Unless," he stammered, "of course, you do have clearance?" The Asian man nodded, speaking flatly. "Right of you to ask." He turned Samuel's own monitor around to face him, and pressed his fingertips on the biometric scanner. The transparent cubes spun and melted, showing the parlamentary logo. "Full Parliamental Override," it read. "What does that... Oh," Samuel's eyes grew wide as he beheld the woman sashaying over and placing her own fingertips on the screen. The cubes resolved into the same logo, with the same three confusing words. "Full Parliamental Override." "Of course," Samuel stammered. "Operatives of the Parliament will have my full cooperation. I don't understand why you would be here, though. There's nothing of..." "That is for us to decide," the Asian man cut in, without raising his eyes from the DataBook. "It doesn't list your rank," Samuel said. "We do not have any. Like this depository, we do not exist," the woman purred. She really did make it hard for him to hold in the naughty thoughts. "Then I take it that these names are?" Samuel began. "False," the one listed as Johnathan said. "However, you are use them. That is their purpose." "Fine then... ah... John. Could you explain your presence here?" he asked falteringly. It didn't help that the one listed as Janet began to circle him, trailing a black-painted nail across his narrow shoulders. "You are aware of the lapse in security that occured at this site nine years ago?" John minced no words, his dark eyes drilling holes into Samuel. The librarian swallowed. He had been afraid something would happen about that, but he didn't ever expect that it would take this long. Or come in this form. He was so... so very fired. "Yes, I am," he said simply. John rose to his feet, running a thumb along the neatly trimmed beard on his jaw. "During the height of the Unification War, a group of spies infiltrated this site and stole documentation regarding the Alliance's force disposition and armament. Were you not the custodian at that time?" John's last sentence, though delivered in his same monotone, struck Samuel by surprise. Busted. "I... ah... I was," he said. No use lying to this man. Especially with that odd woman at his back. He could feel her nails tickling the back of his neck. Operatives had a way of knowing when a man was lying. "Hm." John said. "I believe we have that... Janet? Janet!" Samuel heard a disappointed sigh from behind him, and she sashayed her way back to the desk, opening up a long breifcase which John seemed to have placed there. She pulled out something long and cylindrical, a portable holo-emitter. She placed it on the ground in the dead center of the room. "Please, stand clear of the projection," John said, waiting just long enough for Jane to seat herself on the desk before activating the thing. The emitter let out a quiet hum and the door was now standing ajar. Only holographically, of course, but it seemed to be ajar, and that was what mattered. Four figures dashed into the room, all dressed in black, with masks over their faces. All but one, it seemed. The shortest of them was similarly attired, but long black hair obscured, but did not cover, her delicate, fey features. They spread out into the room, two of them rifling through the DataBooks, another beginning to hack Samuel's computer, and the third knocking out the cameras one by one. When the last camera in the room was disabled, the image went dead. "Stop," John's voice bade. "Backtrack." The image began to move slowly in reverse, the image reappearing, the people moving backwards around the room, placing files back onto the shelves. "Forward slow," Jane said. The image continued forward again, crawling past until just before the last camera was knocked out. "Stop." "What am I looking at?" Samuel asked. "Do you recognize the file on that shelf?" he asked, pointing to the one the short woman was just barely touching. "No, I don't," Samuel answered. "I just watch the files, I'm not cleared to know what is inside them." John nodded sagely. "Of course you do not. It's not your position to know." "That," Jane said, sidling up next to the much shorter woman, "is a highly classified document. Top, very top secret." "There are many secrets here," Samuel said. "Secrets are not our business," John said testily. "Keeping them, is," Jane finished. "What is so special about that particular file?" Samuel asked. "Not your concern," she answered throatily. "It is the business of the Parliament, and let it stand at that," John said. "How can you even be sure she knows what's on that?" he began. "It is not our concern whether she knows," Jane interrupted, but was in turn interrupted by John. "We found epithelial cells on the file. Epithelial cells that came from a woman without any Parliamentary clearance. If she knows," John said. "Her life is forfiet." "And if she doesn't," Jane smiled, "she's just... collateral damage." Samuel glanced around the room, and Jane flicked the control to the emitter. The image shifted, pulling the woman into the center of the room. She might have been cute, he figured. As it was, it looked like she was hiding behind her hair. He stared into her dark, dark eyes. "What's her name?" "That is a problem," John muttered, somehow still making his voice crisp and clear. "We are not sure what it is, now at least." "She vanished entirely more than five years ago," Jane smiled. "So..." Samuel said. "Why are you here?" "We were hoping to find some clue as to her present whereabouts," John said, walking to the librarian's side, watching the still image of the woman. "And did you?" Samuel asked. John glanced his direction, but didn't speak a word. "In older, more civilized cultures," John finally spoke, "when a man was found in betrayal, he would beg to throw himself on his sword." Damn! He knew! He'd let those people in, taking their money in exchange for taking a two hour coffee brake. John was going to rat him out to his employers. He put on a brave face. "Well, that doesn't exactly seem like an option, does it?" he said. He heard a sound of metal ringing along metal. From the desk, Jane grinned savagely as her long-fingered hand pulled up a long, slender sword. Samuel's eyes were locked on the weapon. "Do you know what your sin is?" she asked langorously. "I..." "Sloth," she answered, cutting him off. "You don't want to do this," Samuel said, but John was paying him no attention. Jane got to her feet and began to approach, that weapon held in her hand. His eyes twitched about, and he decided to do what he promised he'd never do. He decided to yehaw and ain't. He threw the first punch of his life, trying to catch John unawares as the man watched the image. The fist was about to connect with the man's jaw when the Operative seemed to flow out of the way, slipping behind Samuel in a heartbeat. His body was thrown off balance, but John helpfully stopped his forward stumble with a hand on his shoulder. Then came a paralyzing, horrifying pain, accompanied by a wet crunch. Then, there was nothing. He could still see the image of the woman, reaching for what was no longer a shelf, he could still see Jane walking toward him, but he couldn't feel anything from his tongue down. Suddenly, he didn't find her the slightest bit attractive, more like some already dangerous animal driven mad and set loose in a village. She kneeled down, facing where John had walked to stand in front of the short woman's eyes. Jane spun the blade about, slamming the pommel of the weapon into the floor, leaving the blade pointed straight up. Directly at Samuel's benumbed body. He felt his center of gravity shifting relentlessly forward, toward that sharp object. Then he fell. He didn't feel the blade cutting him, or in fact anything, but he knew it had impaled him. Jane smiled at him then, something that might have been pretty if there weren't so much madness behind it. "This is a good death," she said, green eyes flashing brightly. "There is no shame in this, a man's death. No shame at all," She smiled up at the image that still hovered in the middle of the room. "We are all making a better world. All of them. Better worlds." Samuel felt himself flipped, and the slight pressure on his ribcage which had been all the indication he had that he'd been stabbed was released. His eyes locked on John, who had reached out his hand to just at the verge of where the image's boundary stood. John whispered into the falling dark, "Where are you hiding, Annebell Roykerk?" <> The two men's staves cracked under the overcast sky as they spun about, one trying to press his advantage, the other trying not to get drubbed in the ribs again. He'd already taken sufficient stabbing pain to put him off of wanting to be stabbed for a while, but Jacob took Sylvia's advice to heart. Better to know how to use a sword and not need to, than to need, and barely know which end of the weapon to hold. So they fought as he healed. He felt stronger with every passing day, no longer hobbling about like an invalid. Early pressed forward again, finally offering what Jacob dearly needed; an opening. Using the larger, stronger man's momentum against him, Jacob managed to turn Jubel's attack, slashing the man's back with the wooden training sword as he slipped past. Were the blade steel, it would have torn out the man's spine. Early recoiled in surprised pain. Jacob had never landed a blow before, and the former bounty hunter scowled as he kneaded his back. "Told you I was getting better," Jacob panted. It felt good to not hurt every time he breathed. Hell, he felt good in general. Kell had made good his word, delivering both Early and Legacy's payment for that big damn job that almost got them all killed over Boros. As well, he had delivered something else. "This is a..." Jacob said in surprise, looking up to the screen. Kell smirked. "I ain't earned this." "You fought for the Independants," Kell replied gruffly. "Don't matter when or how you did, only that you did. You've earned the right to wear the brown. That's yours. You've earned it." Jacob pulled the rich brown duster over his shoulders, thrusting his arms throught he sleeves. The damn thing seemed tailor made for him. He grinned at the fit of it, and Kell nodded. "Looks good on ya, kid," Kell said. "Don't be a stranger, Greyson." Now, Jacob pulled on that brown coat, dispelling the seasonal chill that was working its way into his bones now that he had ceased his physical exersion. He pulled up the scabbard that had laid against the stones of the ground, buckling it into his belt almost without thought. Strange how the weirdest things could become normal in time. "Who's watching Syl?" he asked quietly into the blowing wind. Early scowled. "Friday, right now. I'm on next watch," Jubel responded, buttoning his shirt back up. Syl hadn't recovered. Hell, she hadn't even come close to waking. Since that single word uttered nearly a month ago, she hadn't made a peep. Jacob wasn't taking any chances, though. Even when she was being watched, she was strapped down under enough bindings to hold down a panicked bull. He knew what would happen if she came out of it... changed. Corrupted. Reaved. So she was watched. Only Anne never took a shift, because he knew if she did, Sylvia wouldn't be a problem any longer. He still wondered where she had developed that sort of will. Legacy herself was begin pulled back together nicely. The Crab which was still embeded into her spine had been pulled off, and Cole tore it apart with a vengence, giddy with the opportunity to work with 'Reaver tech'. The repairs on the ship, which ate up most of Legacy's coffers, should have taken a year, according to Cole, but even now Zane was damn near finished. Having both a drydock and a pair of good mechanics working on her, she recovered quick and strong. The two men walked back into the complex, after so long ignoring the computer controlled autocannon which patroled the sky for intruders. After the Alliance last let itself be known on this rock its owners made sure they would walk a bit softer. So far, Jacob and company had been the only folk to leave their bootfalls on the dirt. Wasn't much of a sun to be had on this rock, which made its disappearance with night all the darker. The two went their separate ways once the building closed around them. Early went toward where the rest of the people were, the heart of the place. Jacob went toward the back bay, where Legacy sat in wait. Verne stumbled onto Jacob as he was making his way through the compound. Now that Jacob knew his name, weren't a way in hell he was calling him Mister Universe. Just didn't work, he thought. "Done for the day?" Verne asked. "Right tired," Jacob answered. "Yeah." "I figured as much," Verne said. "Because you're headed toward Lenore's room." Jacob frowned. "I thought it was just you four?" "It is. Kinda. Lenore was here first," he said, nodding to the room. Jacob indulged him and stepped in. A blonde woman was sitting upright in the middle of the room, which had been made into a sort of dias. She stared forward, eyes glassy and unseeing, her limbs completely motionless. Dead? He sniffed the air. No, not dead. It smelled more like plastic. That's when it hit him. Lovebot. Jacob shook his head. "I didn't know Shelley put up with these kinda propensities," he laughed. "Lenore isn't mine," Verne contradicted. "Never was, in point of fact. It belonged to the last Mister Universe." "Really?" Jacob said, taking another step toward it. "You might not want to do that," Verne warned. "Why? What's it going to do? Thrust at me?" Jacob chuckled. "Mal!" the lovebot's voice was odd, more than a bit strangled, as if she were talking past a stab wound. "Guy killed me, Mal. Killed me with his sword. How weird is that?" "We found Lenore in his old sanctum, still covered in his blood," Verne explained. "It only seemed right that we keep her around. Last vestige of the great man, if you would." "They can't stop the signal, Mal," the lovebot wound down. "They can never stop... the signal..." "Well, that was all manner of unsettling," Jacob said, backing away from the now slumped and motionless sex-toy. "Anne is on Legacy?" he asked. "Last time I checked." Jacob nodded for a moment. "And which way is that?" Verne laughed and pointed in a general direction that was pretty much the way Jacob had been heading anyway. He took his leave and made his way through the complex until he reached its far side, where Legacy sat quietly on the tarmac. With a smile, he walked up the ramp and into the ship which was now on its last fussing-over. He dropped his bag of things in the corner of the bay and ascended to the top deck, finally pushing open his door and descending into his bunk. Anne was already laid out on the bed, dozing lightly. He dropped off his coat and his weapons, sliding into bed next to her. The moment he'd paused, she rolled onto him, staring down her nose at him from her favorite vantage point. It had been a while since she felt confident to do that. She smiled. He smiled back. "Did you win?" "Once," he said. "Doubtful," she said, snuggling closer, despite the fact that the only way she could be closer would be to open him up and burrow inside. He regretted the imagery the moment it sprung to mind. "Are you alright?" he asked. Something about her wasn't quiet normal, he thought. Something a bit off. He ran a hand along her short, curling hair. "I'm just shiny," she replied, but she didn't sound confident in that. Come to think on it, she rarely did. Tough, but not confident. "We flying?" She asked, dark eyes still closed. "Come tomorrow, we will be," Jacob answered. She murmured slightly and hugged close. Jacob dispelled the thoughts he had and simply wrapped an arm around his wife. It felt good to say that, if even to himself. His wife. His beautiful little wife. Still clothed, sweaty, and no doubt a bit malodorous, Jacob knew he couldn't be that pleasant a mattress, but she was immediately asleep. And he was not long in joining her. <> The chirping brought her awake. She didn't like having to deal with a call at this hour in the night, especially when she was having so pleasant a dream. She rolled over and slipped her legs out from under the silken sheets which piled high on her bed. She casually pulled a robe around herself as she worked the blood back into her body. It still didn't feel like she was awake, but there was nothing to do for it now. She yawned as she climbed the ladder. She knew that most of the crew couldn't hear the signal. Even though they were pretty much universally closer to it than she was, she'd trained herself to notice it. It wouldn't do to have (Continued in part 2) From jamesthedark at hotmail.com Wed Jan 18 14:29:14 2006 From: jamesthedark at hotmail.com (jamesthedark@hotmail.com) Date: Wed, 18 Jan 2006 14:29:14 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Legacy 2:01(Mistletoe) through 2:03(Monday's Child) (2/2) Message-ID: 2:01(Mistletoe) through 2:03(Monday's Child) by James the Dark jamesthedark at hotmail.com Part 2 See part 0 for header information. a message come for her if she wasn't around to recieve it. As she continued through the silence of the ship, the near-silent chirping drew her past the kitchen and down the stairs. She went down into the common area, turning and right into her infirmery. She was just a crew member, she knew, but it was still her room. Nobody questioned it. The panel in the back of the room blinked with the incoming call, and Friday muttered to herself as she activated the screen. She was more than a bit surprised at who she saw in it. "Well," her own voice came from her own face. "It certainly took you long enough." Friday uttered a colorful explaintive under her breath as she stared balefully into the screen. "What do you want?" she demanded. Monday's Child "Have you ever read the writings of Shan-Yu?" the tall, blonde haired man said. He had a wide, friendly grin on his square jaw, his eyes twinkling with delight. She thrashed against her bonds, trying to scream but unable for the gag which stopped her voice. Her eyes flit about the room, sanitary and stark white. The bed was covered in a white plastic sheet, the furniture shoved into a corner and covered. The entire place reminded her of a hospital room. Clean. Sterile. Lifeless. "He say, live with man fourty years, share house, meals, and every topic of conversation. Then, bind this man, hand to foot and hold him over volcano's edge. It is then," he picked up a large and cruel looking dagger from a tray not far away, "that you will finally meet the real man." She struggled back against the chains and course hemp as he drew closer, his youthful face looking entirely too enthusiastic. She never knew fear before. She had been raised from a small child in luxury, to know the best things in life. When she turned twelve, she and her sister had both entered training with House Celeste. Her own aspirations were achieved, her sister's, not so much. She was respected, independantly wealthy. And she would trade it in for what her sister had, at this moment, no matter what that may be. "Of course, now we are past little pleasantries," Dmitri Niska said as he loosened the ball gag from her mouth. The very first thing she did was take a deep breath and scream. Almost off-handedly, Niska backhanded her across the face, the pommel of that knife scraping her perfectly smooth cheek. "Useless, I assure you," Niska chided. "I choose room to be soundproof. There is no help coming for you. Say it." "Go to hell! Help!" she screamed. Niska frowned disdainfully, hooking his fingers through the bodice of her dress and yanking it down. The fine fabrics tore apart under his hands, leaving her trussed up in nothing but her shift. When that task was done, Niska jabbed her with that knife. Her call for help dissolved into a yelp of pain. She'd never known pain, just as she'd never known fear. Sure, she'd taken a few lumps as a toddler, and even broke her wrist once while horseback riding. But she'd never been stabbed. It never occured to her that she ever might. Finally, there was no sound left in her. She wanted to scream, but she'd used up all the air she had. Her dark, fluid eyes locked with Niska's. He grinned. She squirmed in pain as he drew the blade slowly along her. At long last, after what seemed to be an eternity, he stopped, removing his blade and setting it aside. He slid his fingers along the scarlet blade. "I must admit, this is rare opportunity for me. The blood of whores is base thing, but yours, miss Yiao, is special thing. Is solid." "You," she groaned hoarsely, "have earned a black-mark in the Companion Client Registery. No one will ever serv..." He cut her off with a brutal backhand, which must have loosened some of her teeth, because she noted a fine white shape in the midst of the pool of blood. A bicuspid, if she remembered correctly from her sister's ramblings. She looked back up at Niska. "That will not, I am thinking, matter so much. You will not get chance to speak with your Registery," his words were absolutely kind. He walked out of the room for a moment, and when he returned, he had something on a trolley, something she couldn't quite twist herself to see. He walked back in front of her, his fine coat discarded and his sleeves rolled back. "Of course we are now past the preliminaries. The polite questions; who do I think I am? Do I know who you are? Why are you being tied? We are past these things. Now we reach important questions." Niska reached past her to that thing on the cart, which activated with an electric hum. She struggled mightily, but she knew it was hopeless. "My contractor expressed wish to 'ugly' you, and that is easily enough achieved," he pulled up a pair of paddles, tapping them against her flesh. Pain exploded through her with the electric current. "But it does not interest me. Would you like to know what would?" Monday Yiao tried to pull herself into a ball, to protect herself. She couldn't. "Let us see," Niska said kindly, "If we can meet the real you." <> The melancholy notes filled the ship, seeming to vibrate off the walls and fill the claustrophobic space with dissonance. She realized half way through the song which one she had picked, and it was one of the bleakest. Since she'd gotten that call, she hadn't been able to concentrate. That would have been horrible had anybody gotten hurt, but as it was, she could bare think straight. That bitch. That conniving, self-centered bitch, what took everything she ever dreamed of. Then she had the gall to call her up and gloat. It was enfuriating. It was everything she didn't want to think about. She'd cut off ties with that... woman... nearly a decade ago, and didn't regret it in the slightest. They'd been close, once. Closer than friends or lovers. Then she had to go and hump it up. The last note, still hanging in the air, sounded off. She glanced at her frets and realized her fingers were clawed over the strings, as if she subconciously wanted to choke the guitar. The instant she saw it, her hand flew open, and she shook the random extremity to excorsize its demons. She knew enough about psychology that sometimes people acted on things they wouldn't even admit to themselves, repressed memories and subjugated feelings and such. Some of that strayed dangerously close to Freudism, but she was living proof of fact, it seemed. She set her instrument aside, before she smashed it to kindling in a taking. Safer that way. Grinding her teeth, she rose from the confortable chair she always took after dinner to practice her art. She needed to walk, to fight, to have a romp, something to distract her and exhaust her, something to leave her drained and able to sleep. As it was, it felt like somebody had been sneaking amphetamines into her supper. A tremor ran through her, leaving her shaking in the stairwell. Maybe a sedative might be a good idea. The only person of her skill level she could fight was Anne, and that little woman would tear her apart out of sheer tenacity, and while there was two men able to romp, she didn't think either of them willing. Zane still was a bit hurting from his two-day marriage, and she didn't have the cruelty to her to bust him up further by forcing him into something he didn't want. Early was just bereft of gorram passion. Not even worth the time and effort. So she unlocked and opened the door to her infirmery. She never used to lock the door, but with a potentially dangerous, albiet currently comatose, woman on board, she wasn't willing to keep that many sharp or pointed implements, poisons, and miscellany available to hostile hands. Potentially hostile, she revised herself. She hated thinking that way of Sylvia. She used to be fun. A bit loopy, by times, and occasionally somewhat unsettling, but fun. Now... Now, she might wake up alright, wake up a shattered wreck, wake up a Reaver, or not wake at all. She wondered briefly if God dimmed the lights in the 'Verse just for this little crew. Bastard. With a capital 'B'. She pulled open the drawer and pulled out a bottle of diazepam. She was unsealing the lid when the console beside her head chirped to life, startling her a bit. She glanced between the bottle and the console, finally deciding to take the call. Anybody using her private line probably had something to say. She activated it, and was surprised by the face she saw. "Well," Inara said in the screen. "I must say, I never thought I'd see the day when a Yiao looked less than stellar." Friday turned away from the screen for a second and said in full voice. "Anybody else around want to insult me?" "I'm sorry," Serra said quickly. "It seem's I'm picking up bad habits from my... from Mal." "What's this about?" Friday asked, adopting her surgery voice. "It's about your sister." "I know about Monday. I got her call," Friday growled. The Companion... former Companion, seemed like now... glanced at her in confusion. "When did she speak to you?" Serra asked carefully "'Bout two weeks back. Gloating, 'cause she'd pulled down ten-over-price to escort some dandy on Persephone. I called her a whore, and hung up wanting to mangle her." "Bi zwei yi zhi ting woh, ni-yu chun di ren!" Serra shouted, her composure severely rattled. "The person who hired her has a blackmark in the registery with House Madrassa. Celeste never ranked high enough to access the Registery, so your sister fell right into in that bastard's hands." Friday paused. "I know a lot of bastards, Serra. Care to be more specific?" "Atherton Wing, a high society man with delusions of propriety. He used one of his pseudonyms to procure your sister, and now he has his man preparing her for him. Is your sister a strong woman?" "Not particularly," Friday scoffed. "Where in Persephone? Eavesdown, or the city?" "The city. She's being held in a hotel that's getting ready for a ball. Security will be tight," she seemed ready to continue but Friday cut her off angrily. "Why in the sphincter a' hell'd you think I'd care anyway?" Inara stared in shocked confusion at Friday's outburst. "She's your sister," Inara said, as if that were the entirety of the matter. Little did the Companion know, it truly, truly was. "You say that like it should mean somethin'," she hissed, flicking off the screen. She shook a bit as she stared at the now blank screen, her fingernails digging into her palms. "Somethin' wrong there, doc?" Greyson said, leaning into the infirmery. He did have a way of sidling in on a body. "Excuse me?" "Couldn't help but overhear, on account of my eavesdropping," Jacob had that less-than-half-serious look in his eye. "What was this about your sister?" Friday ground her teeth for a moment. There really wasn't anything she could do now. A promise was made a damn long time ago. Now it was time for that promise to come due. And hell on any what got in her way. "Gather the crew," she said, noting as Jacob's eyebrow rose in shock. "What was that?" "Gather the crew," she repeated, making her way past him. "You giving me orders on my ship?" he asked, suddenly a touch less mirthful. Something of his spark had faded in the last months. Constant worry crushed the soul. She didn't read that anywhere, she watched it first hand. "Do I have to?" she asked, staring down her captain. Jacob crossed his arms and didn't give an inch. "What's this about?" he finally said. "We're less than ten hours away from Persephone, right?" Jacob nodded. "Anne needs to land us in Southdown. As for the first, I have something they need to hear." Jacob's jaw tightened for a moment, and his arms uncrossed. "Fine, I'll have them up in the kitchen." As the captain left, she moved back into the infirmery, opening up the compartment she'd built into the back of one of the cupboards, pulling out a work of fine silk, like much she wore any chance she got. This one, though, she hadn't worn in years. Six years, now... Refolding the thing, she made her way up the stairs, noting as Early vanished around the corner just ahead of her. She arrived in the kitchen as Early took his seat off to the side of the room. Zane was closest, turned about in his chair so he could see her. Everybody but Sylvia. She took one long step, then another, and set the robe upon the table for all to see. "What's the meaning of this?" Jacob asked, not enjoying riddles in any form. "This is a novice's robe. Every person training in a Companion House gets a number of them. They show the woman, or man, as the case may be, as an initiate, and teach them the finer things in dress and sensation," Friday explained. "Companion House?" Zane asked. "And how did you get... oh." "My mother was a Companion trained in House Celeste, a woman of grace and ability that almost became House Priestess. Before she had children, by which I mean. I personally began my training when I was twelve years old. I learned all of the pleasurable arts; how to walk, how to speak with a refined tongue," Zane snickered at that, "archery, husbandry, music and dance. In all things but one, I was the premier student, and weren't it for that one talent, I would not be here this day." "What one thing?" Jacob asked, a leading question. He probably gathered what it was, but wanted it confirmed. He was a sharp one, sometimes. "Control," Friday said. "It is the first lesson for a Companion, and the last. Since I, admittedly, have all the self control of a suicidal lemming, I was... a failure." "Well, this is all fine," Early said from the nook. "But what does this have to do with... anything?" "I didn't enter training alone." "Of course, there'd be others in your class, right?" Zane pointed out. "That's not what I meant. I was talking about my sister." "You have a sister?" Anne asked, not noticing Jacob nod slowly. "Identical twin sister," Friday confirmed. "What'd they call her?" Zane laughed. "Saturday?" "Although she does 'work' for her living, no. Monday," Zane looked like he was about to laugh again. "My mother was a very talented whore, but she was anything but original. I was born first, and she fell out of labor. Monday was delivered by Caesarian three days later." "So you were born on a," Zane said. "Friday." "And she was born on," Zane continued. "The next Monday," Friday finished for him. His face screwed up in a scowl. "Damn. She was unoriginal." "What happened?" Jacob asked, bringing her back to the topic at hand. "Monday succeeded where I failed, becoming a Registered Companion. I, in my disgrace, left Londinum and headed to Boros. Using up pretty much everything in my trust-fund, I bought my way into the Boros MedAcad, and the rest, as you guessed, is history." "Interesting though this is," Jacob said, "I'm still a bit foggy on what this has to do with that Companion on Serenity. Or why we're diverting to Persephone, in point of fact." Anne glanced at her husband. "We're diverting to Persephone?" He nodded. She stared at him a moment then shrugged. "Fine." As she went up to the bridge, Friday sat down in at the midline of the table. "I have a plan on how to reach her, but I'm going to need all of you for this." "How so?" Jacob asked. "I have the face, fingerprints, and DNA of a Registered Companion. I can walk in anytime I want. Only problem is, I don't know what I'll be facing on the inside, and I need someone there in case something goes wrong. That means you," she stabbed a finger at her captain. "You, on the other hand, are a bit harder a case. You still have that uniform from the horse job, and you might just clean up enough to look military. Certainly having enough money to hire a Companion for the night, dong ma?" "I'm thinkin' Anne ain't gonna like this plan," Zane muttered. Jacob and Friday both shot him a look. "What you need, though, is an IdentCard," she said. "Fine," Jacob said. "I mug a body when we hit the dirt." "No," she chastized. "A real IdentCard. Name, rank, serial number and history. Since the fistfight at the ball back in the day, they've upgraded their systems to only let upstandin' members of the community in." "A falsified I-card, that's a tall order. Damn near impossible to get at any price," Zane said. "Mister Universe. They can get it done. That'll just get us up to the door. Once we're inside, we'll be unarmed and blind. We have no idea where she is in the building, only that it's above the level of the ballroom." "Unarmed?" Jacob asked. "Newtech gun scans. They don't target the serial numbers like the old models, rather the gunpowder in the bullets. If you bring that broomhandle, it's gonna have to be empty," she continued. "When we find her, we're going to have to scram, and scram fast. She'll probably be in a lot of hurt, so getting back here double-time is on our definite list of things to do." "You said you needed all of us?" Anne said as she returned to the kitchen. "You two," she pointed at the other two men, "are going to be the Colonel's entourage. What gets him in gets you in. You," she pointed at Zane, "are going to hack the local link in one of the bedrooms and give us a heads up when things start going south. You," she pointed at Early, "are going to steal everything that isn't nailed down. Might as well make some money on this." "Theft?" Early said. "That isn't my..." "I know where they keep all their best scratch and you'll be stealing from rich, debase, arrogant hun dahn what won't even notice it's gone. 'Sides, with you workin' on percentage, it'd be a niceness to have a figure in the positive to work with." Early scowled, but held his peace. "Do you know this place?" Jacob asked, standing from his seat. "I attended when I was seventeen. I hear these things are almost the exact same every damn year," Friday said, joining him on his feet. She glanced at the other two. "You should get your fineries on. Won't just let anybody in, now would they?" "And me?" Anne asked. "Don't exactly got much desire to be flouncin' around a spot like that." "Just as well," Friday said, moving toward the cockpit. "We need somebody ready to take off in a hurry. Figure that makes you the Colonel's valet." Anne didn't look too impressed with the notion. "Jacob, I need you to Wave Mister Universe. He's the only fella I can think of off hand that could pull an ID-card out of his pi gu in our time frame," Friday announced. Jacob nodded and went to the nose of the ship, the doctor not far behind him. And where the captain went, so went Anne's nation. Jacob wasted no time setting up a Wave from the gunner's seat; Anne lounged in her own chair, and Friday hunched over Jacob's shoulder. "From here to the eyes and ears of the 'Verse," came that familiar voice. "Oh, Jacob! Well, didn't say I expected to hear from you so quick." "No time for chit-chat, sensei," Friday said. "We've got a powerful need, one you're the only that can fix." "What sorta need are you talkin' here?" Verne asked. "IdentCard," Jacob said. "Not just stolen, forged. Full background history and all the bells." Verne scowled a moment, seemingly distracted by something out of camerashot. "That's a hell of a tall order there, captain. What sort of timeframe are you lookin' at?" "It's got to be in my pretty little hand in ten hours," Jacob said. Mister Universe just stared at him for a moment. "You're being coerced into this, aren't you? Blink twice if somebody's got a gun on you," he said. "Verne..." Friday warned. "That kinda task would take a week, no matter where in the Core you looked," the man said. "We're not headed for the Core. We're headed for Persephone." "Persephone? You just delight in makin' things difficult on me, don't you?" He pondered for a moment. "It's not going to come cheap." "Money is no object," Friday said gravely. "It is a bit," Jacob interjected, but Verne spoke right over him. "Just finding one that's reprogrammable, and ain't all of them are, will run a body four grand. Finding one in ten hours, I gotta say, that complicates things. Paying the Locater will run ten by its lonesome," he scratched his ear. "And the history?" "Hell, I'll throw that in for free," Mister Universe replied. "Wait," Jacob finally got a word in. "Where the hell are we going to get together fifteen thousand credits in ten hours?" "One last dip into the old trust fund," she muttered. "They'll shut it down the instant they realize it's been active the last few years, what with my disappearance an' all." "How long'll that take?" Verne asked, but Friday had already reached past the captain and began flinging her fingers along the screen. The Cortex feed jumped between pages so quickly that Greyson probably couldn't even see what she was doing: She'd practiced this action rigorously, so that when she attempted this, she'd be in and out before they shut her out. In a total of twelve seconds, just enough to do her business, just short of being Cortex-Locked, she had the sum flying through the black to the tiny complex on the backwater moon in the heart of an ion cloud. Mister Universe watched a side screen for a moment as the sum was deposited into his account, and smiled. "Ten hours," he said, then leaned back away from the screen. "Fi! Get Cole and Shelley, we've got a rush job!" <> "Don't pick at it," Friday hissed as he tried to run his hand through his hair. It felt weird. Smelled weirder, in point of fact, what with all the crap she had him put in it. It wasn't just slicked back, as he sometimes did, but all formed and such. Felt odd. The building was everything he expected of a Core planet, despite the notable fact that he was quite definitely still in the Border Worlds. Everything that could, shined. Everything that didn't, glowed. Whatever could, also hovered. Being born in the black, he never did even get to acclimate himself to anything grounded, let along wealthy. This was a system shock, even with him pushing so hard on thirty. "Remember," Friday whispered. "You belong here. Nothing is as good as it was last year, the food is atrocious. Stare down and insult the nobles, polite nods to other military officers, and never, ever, talk about your service. Let them guess. They'll come up with," she paused as a servent scuttled past them. "They'll come up with something far better if you just let them ramble." "Arrogant, overpaid, condescending. Got it," Jacob muttered, offering his arm just short of the corner for Friday to loop her's through. They stepped out into the foyer, noting the procession of frilly dresses as they floated around the room like bits of flotsam stuck in an updraft. A wall of music hit him, classical instruments releasing their dulcet tones and controlling the motion of the dancers in the center of the floor. He nodded back to Early and Zane, then pointed toward the servant's door. The doorman caught the gesture, but watched the announcer. They would be allowed in no sooner than their master. Or so Friday instructed him. The pair in front of them was announced, and Jacob forced his back straighter than he'd ever made it before. He even tipped it back a bit so he'd always be lookin' down at these folk, even them's taller than him. The announcer turned back and caught a glance of him. He betrayed a look of suspicion and Jacob pulled the IdentCard which had actually been handed to him as he walked into the door of this building, and slid it into the reader. He punctuated it with his thumb and the lights went from red to green. The announcer nodded and turned back to the room. "Colonel Jacob Northcutt, and Monday Yiao," he said loudly. Behind him, Jacob heard the doorman open the door and allow his 'servants' into the bowels of the building. Jacob took a step forward, but found himself restrained, as if the air had become too thick to pass through. A man in a turban with a walrus mustache turned to him. "I am sorry, sir, but I shall have to confiscate your necklace," he said, his voice surprisingly high pitched. Jacob scowled, letting borrowed rage darken his features into near apoplexy. "You," he said quietly, "shall do no such thing." The two men matched glares for a moment. The security took a step forward, but Jacob reached into his collar and extracted the bullet, holding it so his fingers obscured some of the symbols on it. The walrusy fella leaned in and examined the round, being the only one on Jacob's person. His Mauser was even emptied for the occasion. Finally, the man nodded. "It's a .308," he whispered. "Rifle round. What does it say?" "Not your business," Jacob muttered angrily, slipping back into place. "I'm going to allow this," the man said, turning off the system for a few seconds, which Jacob took to enter appearantly at his leisure. Friday retook her place at his arm. A woman, conversing nearby, seemed to recognize her instantly, and made her way over. "Monday, delightful to see you again," the woman said. "Although I thought you were contracted to mister Addison?" "Addison was my client last evening," Friday replied evenly. "The colonel is my client tonight." The woman, a Companion, by the look of her, sneered, oh, so very subtlely. He only noticed because he'd been watching for it. "Two clients on two consecutive nights? Celeste has fallen farther than I'd thought." "Fools and children insult," Jacob said, his voice light but with an edge of displeasure. "You do not appear to be a child." "Jacob," Friday warned, noting as the Companion almost turned red with shock and anger. "You must forgive him. Military are so hard to deal with." The Companion stared at him for a moment, then back to her, and nodded. "They are at that," she said. "If you will excuse me, my client awaits me." Smiling, she almost dragged him along the rim of the dance floor. "If you do that again, they'll know you're a fake for damn sure." "Did you know her?" he asked. "Roberta," she said. He arched an eyebrow. "I did her appendectomy three years ago." "You're just a storehouse of knowledge, ain't you?" "Don't say ain't." Jacob cracked a grin before he could catch himself. He reschooled his face to disdain, but noticed another decorated fellow standing between them and the door. A decorated fellow what looked in a talking mood. Jacob fixed that down-his-nose look and attempted to breeze past him. "Ah, another soldier," the youngish man said. Youngish, it was odd that Jacob used that word to describe someone who was older than he was. "Colonel Easter, at your service." "No, you are not," Jacob said, but the man danced back in front of him. "Don't be so rude. At least grace me with your name," Easter said, and Jacob realized the man was more than a bit drunk. "Northcutt," Jacob said. "Colonel Northcutt. Now, if you please?" "Haste is an unwelcome trait in a military man," Easter rambled. "Tell me, where are you stationed?" Jacob glanced to Friday. How do I get out of this, he asked? What do I do? How do I slip this hun dahn and get to those doors? And maintain my arrogance and... bingo. "You," he said acidically, "are making an ass of yourself. Look at you. You can barely stand. Disgraceful." "Wei, I was only," Easter began, but Jacob had already begun to walk past him. Easter caught Friday's other arm, dragging both to a halt. "You might think to remove that arm," Friday said. Easter was about to speak when a portly gentleman with a red sash came upon them. "I would follow that piece of advice, colonel," the man said evenly. "The last time a man tried running off with a Companion, a fistfight broke out." Easter let go as if his hand were burned, and backed away with a respectful nod which almost tipped the inebriated man over. The rotund man watched the real officer leave, then turned back to Jacob. "We haven't been properly introduced, mister?" the man with the sash asked. "Colonel Northcutt. Jacob Northcutt," Jacob said. "And you are?" "Colonel?" the man asked. "If you wish. My name is Warrick Harrow. If you need rescuing from these sorts, I rarely stray far." Harrow nodded to both, and turned away. Over his shoulder, he spoke again. "You do look a lot like your sister," he said, staring Friday in the eyes. <> This really was a triapse, Zane thought as he made his way through the 'underbelly' of the complex. Other, real servants charged past him, on their way to whatever their masters willed. Zane almost chuckled at the thought. Servitude. Gorram he was glad he wasn't here all the time. Might just go off his nut. He weaved past the kitchen, headed for what Friday had called the 'scullion hole'. He hadn't asked what that meant, nor did she provide him with any explaination, only directions to go there, and once there to... Ah, there was the cook. She'd been quite specific to look extremely overtaxed and busy in that man's presence. A chef was liable to snatch up anybody's help if they looked to be lollygaggin'. He kept his head low and burned through the kitchen in long, ground eating strides. "You, young man," the chef shouted in Mandarin. "Come here." Zane paused, glancing over his shoulder. Another youth, likely not to have even seen twenty summers, snapped his fingers in irritation and turned to his new taskmaster. Nice to be good, as his Pa said, better to be lucky. He continued on his way before that luck gave up on him. The scullion hole was as unattractive a place as he thought it would be, but he didn't need to stay there long. With a quick glance to make sure nobody else was around, he scampered up a shelf and popped a cieling panel free of its place, crawling up into the breach after. He was glad he wasn't claustrophobic, because the space between the false cieling of the room below and the real floor of the room above was barely enough to fit his chest in. Using a slow drag, he crawled over the wall that separated the scullion hole from the stairwell next to it. He lifted this next cieling panel a mite, just long enough to check for witnesses. This place was also clear, so he dropped down. By now, Early would be waiting by the lockroom, and Jacob would be on his way to the elevator. He didn't have much time. Taking the steps two at a time, he ascended into the first of the rooms where tonights honored guests would be staying. If they were, in fact, staying. He knocked on the first door, waiting a long moment, then placing his ear to the false-wood. Nothin'. Pulling out the proffered card-key, he opened the thing and entered the room, pausing only long enough to scramble the damn door once he was through. That'd slow down anybody took to chasing him. The Cortex screen was a problem, he knew. If he didn't access it right, anybody wanting to could just look him square in the face while he was doing his work. Hacking the Cortex weren't exactly easy neither, no matter what Verne said. He began to rewire the thing. The image flicked off for a moment, and he frowned. No, that wasn't right. Was it? Suddenly, the screen came back on. He was in. He brought up the security cameras, noting that Early was standing in the shot of the door. "Early, you're too close to the door. Step away," Zane said into his transmitter. On the screen, Early frowned, glanced up to the camera, and sauntered away. The mechanic took a moment to loop the video feed once Early was gone, making sure the time code was still running forward. That was the real trick of this scam. "Alright," he said. "I'm opening the doors... now." The indicator for the door now showed the thing unlocked and open, even though the video feed clearly contradicted that. Zane switched to the internal camera, creating a short loop and locking it in before Early entered. "Kinda meager," Zane muttered, observing the contents of the vault. "Take what you can." Zane shut down the lower cameras and began to flip through the hall feeds. The private room cameras were much harder to access, so he left that as a last option. The halls were depressingly similar. He could barely tell one from the last. He must have scanned along twelve gorram floors when one of them caught his attention. He switched angles, just noting the man pulling a door shut behind him. Zane called up the retroactive feeds. "Oh God," he muttered. "Oh God, oh God, oh God." He activated the next feed, the elevator. Oh, no, they weren't alone. "Boss," he said, voice leaking with barely restrained panic. "We've got a problem." <> "How would you know she wasn't a Companion?" Jacob asked, still holding onto his arrogant voice. This Harrow fella just followed him, right into the elevator, in point of fact. "Elementary," Harrow replied when the doors slid shut. "I have been in the presence of many real Companions in my years. I have even partaken of several, in my younger years. Needless to say, I can tell that there is something about you, Friday, that is anything but Companion." "My name is," Friday began. "Friday," Harrow interrupted. "You don't need to hold up the act. If you wanted to play at Companion for the night, it's not my place to stop you. It might be your sister's, but not mine. I hope you do realize that this swai gentleman you are with isn't a colonel, though." "Excuse me?" Jacob asked. "Do not kid yourself," Harrow said. "Too arrogant?" Jacob muttered. "Not arrogant enough, in point of fact," Harrow replied, still staring straight foward at the doors. "Two people not what they claim to be. How you got past the door scanner is beyond me." "Need," Friday answered. Harrow gave her a sideways glance. "I'm not here to live the highlife, and Jacob here is married." "That doesn't stop most. And you can stop calling him Jacob." "My name is Jacob," Greyson replied. "Just not Northcutt." "What are you going to do?" Friday asked, her voice very tight. "Me? Nothing. I should warn you, though. The game of kings is a dangerous one. Whatever agenda you are advancing is of no concern to me, unless you make it so. Dohn luh mah?" "Boss," Zane's voice sounded near to panicking. "We've got a problem." Jacob schooled himself from asking right here what it was. This Harrow was an unforseen snag that he didn't want complicating this already shaky plan. The floor chimed and the doors slid open. The wide man stepped clear, looking once more back at Friday. "Rule number four," he said, just as the doors slid shut. Jacob sighed in relief, then pondered a moment at the look on his doctor's face. Somewhere between startlement and hilarity. "What's rule number four?" he asked quickly. "There are four situations when a Companion is strictly forbidden to have sexual intercourse," she began to tick off fingers. "For less than Guild stipulated minimum price, for an individual with a blackmark in the Client Registery, for a known carrier of an infectious disease, and," she flicked her final finger for effect, "for personal pleasure." "Harsh." "You're telling me," she shook her head. "Zane?" Jacob finally activated his transmitter and asked as the elevator continued its ascent. "Niska's here!" "What?" Jacob shouted, eye wide. "Where? What's that old bastard doing here?" "Not the old man, boss. Dmitri Niska." Jacob almost sighed with relief. To the best of his knowledge, Dmitri hadn't started twisting up like his older brother, and like his father, for that matter. Unless Adelai had intervened, Jacob might still find an ally in Dmitri. "Did you find Monday?" he asked. "Listen to me, Jacob," Zane shouted into the captain's ear. Something must have set him off, because the kid never referred to Jacob by name. "Niska entered a white room. I repeat, a white room." "Son of a bitch!" Jacob yelled, pounding his fist into the metal doors. "White room?" Friday asked. "When Adelai was off the skyplex and felt the need to torture a body," Jacob spoke quickly, "he always did it in a white room. He liked the antisceptic feel of it, and he always has it as well lit as possible. Dmitri's apple mustn't have fallen too far after all." "Still got a chance with Silke," Zane muttered. "She didn't seem to nuts." "What floor?" Jacob asked. "Fourty eighth," Zane said. "Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing chiou sai-jin wuh duh pi gu, why can't anything be easy?" Jacob swore. He switched frequencies for a moment. "Anne? Are you hearing this?" "That's a neg. I just had to skull-kick a flirty yacht runner. What did I miss?" "We need you to bring that shuttle to the roof," Jacob said. "Shuh muh?" "Seems like our girl's damn near on the top floor. Ain't no way we're getting her out past that li'l soiree down stairs," he replied. "Fine, on my way." Jacob stared at the numbers, which increased far too slowly for his liking. Finally, the number reached fourty eight and the doors opened. The halls were, as he expected, empty. When Niska was staying abroad, he rented an entire floor. Just in case he decided to work on his reputation, Jacob had heard. The pair stole out into the empty ways, making silent footfalls. He glanced up at the media screen which sat at an intersection. "Which way, Zane?" he asked the screen. "Yeah, I see you too," Zane remarked. "Room fourty-eight eleven. Be careful. I can't see what's going on in that room. He's got the cortex screen covered with something." Jacob grunted in unease as he crept to the door. "Unlock it." "You're shiny... now," Zane said as the lock released. Jacob twisted the nob as he motioned Friday back. "Me first. He knows me. I might be able to," he said as a scream tore through the cracked door. Rage bubbled in the captain as he forced open the door. It was a room of horrors. The floor around the slanted surface where Niska's liked to do their work was crimson with blood and other bodily fluids, and the woman who was lashed to that table did not look very much like Friday at all. Not anymore, at least. Niska was about to apply a set of electrical paddles to her when he heard Jacob's entrance and turned about. "Ah, Jacob. Unexpected it is to see you here," the middle aged man said. "I always thought you dislike these things we do." "I do. Let her go, Niska," he said. He was having great difficulty convincing himself, in this moment, that everybody deserved a second chance. At this moment, it seemed that Niska had burned through a few dozen. "I am thinking, not," Niska said, putting aside the paddles and leaving Monday to writhe and sob. "My client, he pay much for her in this condition. I think he want her broken, yes?" "Dmitri," Jacob began toward his former employer again, but was halted when Niska pulled out a smallish pistol. Jacob returned the favor, pulling out his unloaded Mauser. "While impressive, that firearm is not fearful thing. Mine, not like yours, is loaded. Now please, step back." Jacob caught a flicker of motion at his blind side, and when he turned to face it, Friday had already stepped past him, headed directly toward Monday, it seemed. "What is this?" Niska whispered, both confused and angry. He kept his gun on Jacob, though. "Trickery?" "You... bitch," Friday spat at her sister's face. Monday recoiled in alarm and terror. "You stole my life, you conniving, self-centered whore. You took my wealth, you took my fame, you took my livelyhood, and left me patching up holes in bumpkins on a backwater boat!" "Friday?" Jacob asked. What the hell was going on? "I'm glad you ended up here. Glad you got what was coming to you. Learned you a lesson, didn't it?" Friday snatched a wicked looking knife. Jacob took a step toward the suddenly maddened woman, but Niska pulled back on the hammer. Niska did take a step toward Friday, though. "What would you like to lose first?" Friday demanded, her voice cracking with rage. "Your lying tongue? Or maybe those deceitful eyes," she made a plucking gesture. "Or maybe I should just split your sternum and show you your blackened heart?" "This is madness, and I will not stand for it," Niska said, taking another step to Friday, and reaching for her arm. "If you wish pain on your sister, speak with client, he will..." He was cut off when Friday refocused all her attention, strength and will on swinging that wicked knife straight into his eye. Niska recoiled with a roar of pain, swinging his gun toward the two women and firing wildly. Friday fell backward with a cry of pain, still gripping Niska's bloodied knife. She was only down for a moment, though, because the man quickly ran out of ammo, and as quickly as Jacob was rushing to tackle the man, Friday reached him first. She lashed out with her blade, slashing his somewhat handsome face into a bloody ruin, blinding him so he could only lash out madly at nothing as she drew closer. He tripped against the edge of his plastic-covered bed, and she mounted him, driving the dagger down three times near his heart. Niska stopped yelling, roaring, screaming. Now, he gasped. His hands twitched and flopped, and his sightless face stared upward. Friday leaned very close to his ear. "Now, let's see if we can meet the real you." she growled. Finally spent, she slumped off of him, collapsing into a mound on the floor. She breathed heavily, staring at nothing as he breathed heavily and wetly. "Above all else, do no harm," he heard her mutter. Tears were beginning to run down her cheeks. "What am I?" "Not a murderer," he said, offering her a hand. "What was that?" "Oh, God, Monday!" she shouted, eyes wide as she ran back to her sister's side, brushing the hair back from her forehead, listening to her chest. "She's not breathing. He must have hit her. Jacob, help me get her down." Jacob, still confused by the transformation he'd witnessed, left the gasping Niska and helped unchain the twin and lay her out on the floor. He watched as she ran through a host of doctory things, but at long last, she simply slumped over her sister's still body. Her eyes, when they rose, were overflowing with tears. "She's dead." <> "It wakes," the thing said. It took her a long moment to translate the words in her head. Tobrik was a counterintuitive language to understand, poetic but gutteral, flowing but harsh. And it didn't have a verbal equivalent for 'to be', which made some sentences harder. The words finally connected, and she opened her eyes. The face staring down at her was mutilated, a brutalized thing with the outer layers pulled back with hooks. So much of the face was pulled back it was as if somebody had split him from forhead to chin and just stapled the flaps over his ears. Then again, considering what matter of beast it was, one possibly might have. She kicked and flailed, managing to strike at something she couldn't see, something which tried to take hold of her again, but she pulled back before it could. It was a long struggle against many hands to rise, finally casting off the last of them and reaching for her gun. Why had they left her armed? She pulled out the magazine. Empty. "Flows-As-Water," a female voice said, "they cannot harm you." She glanced down at the Reavers surrounding her. They didn't scream or roar as they almost always did. They didn't even look that enraged. They simply appeared ambivalent, eyes dark and uncaring. She wasn't food to them, nor was she one of them. Confusion, perhaps? A situation they hadn't ever had to deal with before. She could still... feel them, their rage, their hunger, but it was subdued now. More like a regular prison than an insane asylum. "Where am I?" she asked. Or rather, she asked its Tobrik equivalent, which was akin to 'what is the place that I occupy?'. "We have searched long for you," the woman's voice spoke. "We were told to find Flows-As-Water, and find her we have." The... guards, she guessed, formed a wall around her, one she could not see past. They didn't make a move to touch her, and she checked her clothes. Intact, after a fashion. She didn't ache in any particular manner either. What madness was this, that they would take her, but not... well... sodomize her until she died, for one thing? "It does not understand," a man's voice said in the darkness. The ship was very dark, shadows stretching everywhere, for having less than one of every four lights intact. She suddenly was struck by a worry. She was being ionized right now. Soon, she would start to develop the symptomes of radiation sickness, and show the burns that these... things... did. "This is not the case," the man responded. "This ship was made especially for you, Flows-As-Water. It will not burn you." "Why do you keep calling me that?" she shouted. "It is who you are," the woman sounded unimpressed. A figure forced its way through the crowd, tall and broad, clad what looked like a robe, but made of the hair of a dozen brunettes. Each a slightly different shade of brown, so it seemed to change color with every motion. She could just barely see inside the cowl, making out a smooth, pale leather mask obscuring the creature's face. A Faceless Man, those around referred to him, with more than a little reverence. "It is awake. It must learn. It will come with me," the thing said, its voice deep and bass. "I think not," she said, but a pale fingered hand burst forward from the voluminous sleeves, catching her by the throat and lifting her easily from her feet. She tried to strike at the creature, but her limbs seemed to connect with something solid as stone before they ever reached the Faceless Man. The hand drew her closer after she had exhausted herself. "It will come," it said. "And it will learn." Sylvia opened her eyes. The blood-smell of the corridor was still there, the darkness and the screams. The Reavers were gone, though. She felt the floor beneath her feet. Not the same. Not congruent. Senses disagreed. Eyes said hard, toes and fingers said soft. Cold and warm. Disconnection. Bedlam. She walked foward down the cold/not-cold corridor, feeling the hardness/softness under her bare feet as she rounded a corner. This was unlike the thing she had seen before. She turned back, and there was the ship, her prison for that horrible time. She turned forward, and there was something else, well lit and carpeted. Empty, though. There were similarities. Always similarities. She counted her footsteps as she trod down the stairs. Not just stairs. Other places. Long, warm, not hard. Nobody around though. She could feel screaming, feel it below her. She listened for a moment, then continued. She didn't rightly know where she was going, only that she had to go there. One thousand three hundred thirty one steps. Eleven cubed. Eleven. Important number. Prime number. One walks into the house eleven times but always comes out one. She pushed the door open. Eleven pounds of pressure. Elevens and elevens and elevens. She walked again, closing her eyes and reaching out with her mind. She could feel them here. Sees-While-Blind, and Two-Lives. They meant something to her. She couldn't precisely remember what. The screaming was louder now. One hundred twenty one steps. Eleven squared. Eleven again, and the room, fourty-eight eleven. The door was open, and she heard the wind gust in from an open window at the end of the hall. A chill, autumn breeze, carrying the first teeth of winter. The leaves had fallen, and now were carried away. Gently, she pushed the door open. The leaves were everywhere here. Each one a scream, a breaking. A violation. The wind spun them about, sending them into spirals where the drafts pulled up. The bed held the most of them, all red and corpulent and base. Rotted before they fell. Sickly sweet of a bog, even while alive. The leaves shifted, a pseudopod of decomposing chloroplasts flopping about. Not yet dead, yet dead long ago. Two-Lives was in the middle of the sole clearing, where the leaves had been wafted away. She wept. Sylvia remembered what it felt like to weep. It felt bad. Bad. Mal, in the Latin. "She's dead," Two-Lives said. Sees-While-Blind shook his head, finally noticing her. "Sylvia?" he asked, voice astounded. Sometimes, she wanted to tell him. Tell him the truth. She couldn't though. Not then, and not now. The truth was so fragile. And now, it was broken. "I tried to find the high ground," she said, trying to explain. "Tried, but the flood came to quick. Washed away. Wall of water then splash. Drowning." "Syl?" he said, but she was already moving past him into the clearing. She placed her hands on Runs-From-Self, relishing in pain. Hot lead as a gift, the gift of death. But not dead. Still warm. Still oxygen in the blood. She focused her will, ignored the pain she felt on her everywhere. Runs-From-Self shuddered and coughed, her eyes opening wide, then falling shut again. The chest rose and fell. The Runs-From-Self was not having death. "Unconscious," Two-Lives said, a bit in awe. "She's alive, but unconscious. Jacob, pick her up. We've got to get out of here before the notice that," she pointed to the slowly reddening mound on the bed. Corpulent and decayed. Dead before death. "Syl?" Sees-While-Blind asked. "How did you get here?" "I was," she answered. He waited for her to continue. "Was there, now here. Jacob?" That was his name. Jacob. She reached out her hand, running her fingers down the scar on his face. "Does it hurt?" she asked. "Every damn day," he said, lifting up the unconcious body of Runs-From-Self. She didn't know this one. Eyes said it was... Friday, her name was. Eyes said Friday, other senses said anything but. Disconnected. Chaotic. Didn't fit. Two where only should be one, by one sense. Eyes must be wrong. Ears too. She felt herself being tugged along, her eyes closed and her ears willed shut. She felt the carpet under her bare toes. Felt the leaves as they crunched. Felt the wind as it picked them up and spun them about. Memories and laughter. Pain and fear. Carpet became metal. Cold, and not-soft. Like the other place. The smell of blood. The wind began to register now, pebbling her skin under the robe. Wind of the mind and wind of the world became one, and she opened her eyes. "Jacob?" Two-Deaths-Follow asked. Not that... Anne. Her name was Anne. "What the hell is she doing here?" "Ain't got no proper idea," Jacob said, dragging Sylvia behind him with one hand and settling Runs-From-Self down on the narrow bed with the other. The room that flies felt different. She couldn't exactly tell why. She lay down on the bed opposite Runs-From-Self, staring at Friday's face on the not-Friday. "This don't instill me with any calm," Anne said. She was afraid. Ears said angry, others said afraid. Not just now. Always. Always afraid. "Can't say as it does in me, neither," Jacob agreed. "But weren't it for her, we'd be bringing back a corpse instead of a Companion." Anne scoffed. "Heard from Zane, he's at the back doors now. Early's take wasn't exactly the payday what you said it would be. We're getting them now." Sylvia could feel Bright-Dark-Light and Here-I-Am, somewhere below her. Her eyes slid closed. She'd slept for so very long, but now, all she was was tired. So tired. "What's next?" she heard Anne ask. "There's a fence for this gos-se on Boros we should talk to. Sylvia may have dealt with the dying part, but mei-mei still needs time to heal. My old MedAcad always has room. We can leave her there for a spell." "Some time to breath would be a fine thing," Jacob said. "They come when you ask them," Sylvia whispered. "They come when you call. Two by two... but hands... not... blue." Jacob came closer, sqatting in front of her to look her in the eye. "What is it? You figuring something?" A tear leaked from Sylvia's eye as she looked up at him. "Do you know what your sin is?" <> John sighed. "This is pointless," he said. Jane waved him away, her bright eyes wide as she watched the feed. This was the last known recording of Anne Roykerk's whereabouts in existence, dated five years ago. It showed the long-haired woman entering a whorehouse, obviously against her preference, and take a seat at the bar. "We should focus on James. She will come for her brother," John pointed out. "Dead. Last year, of Bowden's Malady," Jane replied lightly, not altering her gaze a scintilla. "Documentation is in there," she pointed blindly over her shoulder behind her, and continued to watch the screen. "What about..." he shuffled through the papers in the spot she had accurately located. "James' widow? Surely that will offer some leverage." "Too many degrees of separation," Jane chastized. On the feed, a man of middling height with shaggy hair stumbled down the stairs, barely catching himself at the bottom with the help of a solid looking Asian man with a pronounced widow's peak. "There must be something we are missing," John muttered. "There might be something you're making me miss," Jane hissed, still watching the feed. It wasn't the first time she watched it today. Or within the last thirty minutes, in point of fact. The feed continued, and the shaggy haired one found his way to Anne's seat. He spoke to her, a wide grin on his face showing that it couldn't be any kind thing, and the scowl barely visible on hers saying that she didn't appreciate it. She slapped him. He bumped into another man behind him, spilling the man's drink onto another fellow seated nearby. The chain reaction set off a bar-brawl faster than John could draw his sword. These Rim Worlds could truly be uncivilized, sometimes. "This is the fourth time you've watched that," John pointed out, somewhat needlessly. She shushed him without altering her gaze a whit. Anne almost got slashed, dropping out of its path, but not before it sheared off a goodly amount of her hair. The fight grew in scale until it was too disorderly even to be classafiable as a riot. "Wait," she said. "backtrack." The feed ran backwards for a moment, till just after Anne's impromptu haircut. "Replay slow," Jane ordered. The feed began to crawl forward, and Jane's finger pointed at the shaggy-haired man who inadvertedly started the maelstrom. "That's him." "That is whom?" John asked. "She cut her hair, cut it short," Jane said, suddenly sounding very excited. "Shorter than... He knows where she is. Seen her. Recently seen." "You are sure?" John asked. Jane favored him with a 'what are you, retarded? Of course I am' look. He figured as much. She was almost always right. It was the reason she was here. "Bring up file from capture," he commanded, and the computer on the small ship hummed to life. He leaned close, running a thumb along his neatly trimmed beard. "Jacob Greyson. Ship's captain. Damn. How do we get the attention of an itinerant?" "The crew," Jane said, glancing his way at last. "Right. Manifest lists no pilot... Odd. A former slave named Zane, the failure Early and a doctor. Friday Yiao. I know that name." Jane arched a golden eyebrow at him. "Bring up hospital admissions, planet Boros, last name, Yiao," the computer sped along its business, finally displaying the information he needed. "There. Monday Yiao, admitted earlier today at the Boros Medical Academy. Registered Companion, and, birth records state as identical twin sister of Friday. Monday will bring Friday." Jane grinned, and John continued. "Friday will bring Greyson, and Greyson will give us Roykerk." ### The End ### From donnalynn at darkangelsfanfic.com Thu Jan 19 00:03:20 2006 From: donnalynn at darkangelsfanfic.com (donnalynn@darkangelsfanfic.com) Date: Thu, 19 Jan 2006 00:03:20 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] You Hesitated, I Didn't _PG-13_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: You Hesitated, I Didn't Author: Donna Lynn Feedback: donnalynn at darkangelsfanfic.com Author Website: http://www.darkangelsfanfic.com Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG-13 Genre: gen het Characters: Malcolm, River Pairings: Mal/River Summary: Why did River hesitate to shoot Mal down in the maidenhead? Why did Mal bring River back on board? Notes: Serenity: The Movie This story is available at the archive: [5k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/youhesitated.shtml From donnalynn at darkangelsfanfic.com Thu Jan 19 00:03:20 2006 From: donnalynn at darkangelsfanfic.com (donnalynn@darkangelsfanfic.com) Date: Thu, 19 Jan 2006 00:03:20 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] You Hesitated, I Didn't _PG-13_ (1/1) Message-ID: You Hesitated, I Didn't by Donna Lynn donnalynn at darkangelsfanfic.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. You Hesitated, I Didn't Author: Donna Lynn E-mail: donnalynn at darkangelsfanfic.com Status: Complete Word Count: 695 Category: Angst Spoilers/Rumors: Serenity: The Movie Season: 1 Rating: PG-13 Content Warning: Vague language and some adult dialogue. Summary: Why did River hesitate to shoot Mal down in the maidenhead? Why did Mal bring her back on board? Author's Note: Watch the scene when River is triggered and watch her work she's amazing! Landing every single punch and kick with such ease and agility and THEN, when she draws down on Mal...she hesitates, a full two seconds! You'll never be able to convince me otherwise but she recognized who Mal was through her conditioning and was somehow able to at least hold off shooting him. I won't deny she probably would have if Simon hadn't stepped in but my point is there was a moment where she wasn't sure what was going on. This is sort of my scene filler where Mal was sitting in with River while she was unconscious. Remember when Mal was trying to explain to Shepherd that he should have just left her? We see a filler scene with Mal just watching River and this is what I thought might be going through his head at that moment. It's sorta a mixed scene with Simon's scene when he's fixing her up. Pairing: Mal/River Disclaimer: The characters of Firefly/Serenity do not belong to me. So DO NOT sue me! * * * * * "You hesitated...why'd you hesitate?" Mal whispered hauntingly running a hand through his spiked hair uneasily. River...he thought he understood her as best as anyone could. How wrong he was. Question was...was she a person or a weapon to be triggered at a moments notice? His thoughts ran rampant and River could hear and feel every single one of them as if they were her own. With him being so close and his emotions so raw she could barely shield herself from them. It was always hard to shield from Mal. Little did he know she wasn't asleep but feigning sleep. She was too afraid to open her eyes in fear of his reaction. She could feel his anger, concern, fear and confusion. He was angry at Simon, angry at her, for not telling him the whole truth about what was done to her. Angry that she could have snapped at anytime and hurt one of the crew or worse, killed them. Concern over the crew and what was going to happen next. The fear she could understand. He saw her in action and she scared herself so she knew even Mal had to be unsettled. His confusion is what puzzled her...that was something else entirely. In the maidenhead when she was triggered everything was so precise, so clear, every punch, every kick landed as it should have, but when she drew down on Mal...she hesitated...a full two seconds...why did she hesitate? She did not know the answer to her own question. Did Mal somehow break through her conditioning? Had the eights months aboard Serenity finally start to help her? It was too early to tell but she was hopeful. Serenity felt more like home that any place ever had. Now she feared she would have to leave that home...for the crews sake. "What are you River?" he asked himself staring down at her, unaware of her conscious form. I don't know...she whispered inside her mind. I can't tell where I end and where I begin anymore. Too many secrets, too many illusions, too many walls...everything's a dead end at a new path... "I don't care what you believe...just believe..." she whispered feeling Mal's gaze upon her. At her voice Mal was startled out of his own thoughts. "River?" he didn't know if she was awake or if she was talking in her sleep. She shook her head against the grated floor. "No..." she whispered. "...it's broken." She laced her fingers into the grated floor as if she were trying to figure out a puzzle. Mal tilted his head down at her. "What's broken River?" he tried to keep a quiet soothing tone. "Miranda," she said. "Miranda?" he returned. "What's Miranda?" he knew it was pointless to ask a simple question but what the hell. She studied her hand for a moment then sat up and turned her gaze to stare him in the eye. "Death..." she then started to tear up. "It's not mine...it isn't mine and I shouldn't have to carry it!" she quietly started to cry and brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "I'm like a toy that everyone wants to play with." Mal was in front of her before he realized what he was doing. "Now you listen to me little one," he tipped her chin to make her look at him. "You're nobody's toy xiao mei?" She laughed, "Bullet to me? Right in the brain pan, squish!" He shook his head realizing what she sensed from earlier and put a finger to her lips, "Don't talk like that River..." he trailed off as she started into a rant. "Always something, never anything, all the same, why can't it at least slow down," she cried a few tears falling down her face. Mal sighed and wiped them away cupping her face. "Why did you bring me back?" she whispered against his hand helplessly. "Things are only gonna get much, much worse." There was a long silence between them. "Why did you hesitate?" She slowly looked into his eyes and they both had their answers to their questions...they don't know why, but they'll understand some day. THE END ### The End ### From hvandewall at yahoo.com Tue Jan 24 19:59:46 2006 From: hvandewall at yahoo.com (hvandewall@yahoo.com) Date: Tue, 24 Jan 2006 19:59:46 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Different Kinds of Need _PG_ (0/1) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Different Kinds of Need Author: Cedar Feedback: hvandewall at yahoo.com Status: NEW - Standalone Rating: PG Genre: gen Characters: Zoe, Kaylee Summary: At little mourning for Wash Notes: Set after Serenity film, faintly connected to my other stories This story is available at the archive: [7k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/differentkinds.shtml From hvandewall at yahoo.com Tue Jan 24 19:59:46 2006 From: hvandewall at yahoo.com (hvandewall@yahoo.com) Date: Tue, 24 Jan 2006 19:59:46 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Different Kinds of Need _PG_ (1/1) Message-ID: Different Kinds of Need by Cedar hvandewall at yahoo.com Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. When it was her duty, during her watch, she checked it. When the captain called her there, when there was plenty going on to occupy her mind, she went. But otherwise, since Miranda, Zoe avoided the cockpit. It was her watch. So she was going, but she was in no hurry. She was walking slow past the engine room. Plenty slow enough to hear the shaky gasping breaths coming from the room. Her instinct was to avoid that too, probably Kaylee and the Doc were in there together. Hard to get privacy on board ship. She'd known that well enough. But she was moving plenty slow enough to hear that there weren't nothing moving in there. Not sex. Just Kaylee gasping. She swung in, fast, ready for action. And spotted Kaylee curled in the corner, head against Serenity's wall, a greasy bit of grey metal in her lap, sobbing her eyes out. "Kaylee" The girl looked up, saw who had come in, and made a desperate attempt to pull herself together. "You hurt?" Kaylee gasped again, wiping her eyes futilely on her grimy coverall. "No..." She swallowed, twice, almost managed to control her voice. "I'm okay Zoe." "How about Serenity?" She gestured to the part Kaylee held. "We gonna break down again?" "Oh, no." That came out clearer. "This ain't but a little thing. I kin fix it. It's all fine." Zoe had been avoiding lots of things other than the cockpit. Other people's emotions, for instance. They were never her strong point best of times. This was a long way from being the best. But Kaylee sobbing wasn't a sight anyone on this boat took lightly. Zoe stayed put. "Didn't sound that way." Kaylee avoided Zoe's eyes. "It ain't nothin' Zoe." Zoe crouched down, tried one more guess. "This about you'n Simon? 'Cause I'll leave that alone if you want me too." She half smiled. "Unless you'd want me to kick his rear 'bout somethin." Kaylee looked surprised. "No. Oh, there's no call to kick Simon. I just..." She looked back down at the part in her lap. And her eyes filled again. "I was missin' Wash." When Zoe stiffened and stood, Kaylee gasped again. "I'm sorry Zoe. I...I didn't mean to say nothin'" Zoe made herself turn back to the girl on the floor. Made herself sit down next to her. It wasn't easy, but not much was these days. Not since Wash... "I don't suppose you need to apologize to me for missin' my husband." She took the bit of metal from Kaylee. "This set you goin'?" Kaylee looked uncertainly at the woman beside her for another moment. "Well...it's silly I guess. Just...that's a rotational gauge. It helps keep us flyin' steady. And I felt somethin' just a little bit wrong tonight 'bout how we're movin'. Just a mite wobbly. Can you feel it?" Zoe concentrated. "Maybe. Only now that you say." "Well...I thought, I gotta tell Wash so's he can compensate for it. And then I realized I couldn't no more. I guess that got me started. And then I thought, if Wash were still here, there wouldn't be no need to tell him. He'd have known. He'd have told me." Kaylee was crying again now, trying to stop. "And I just felt so lonely for him I couldn't help it. I'm sorry." Zoe drew a shuddering breath, but her voice remained clear. "You felt...lonely for him?" "Oh, Zoe, not like you lonely, but...Wash he could feel how the ship was flyin', you know? Captain loves Serenity, you all do a little. But Wash and me knew first when something weren't right." Zoe remembered something she had said to her husband after the Niska had tortured him. Something when they were alone in their bunk. She'd told him there was all different kinds of need. He'd understood. He'd found out that day what kind of need you could have for Mal. The kind that would make you take risks for him, 'cause you knew gut deep he'd take the worst of it for you, every time he could. Now she remembered how whenever something on Serenity was awry Kaylee and Wash would look for each other. They'd look at each other and she could swear they were reading each other's minds. How when Wash was pulling some fancy flying Kaylee'd need about two words over the comm to know what he wanted from her. "Ya'll worked together a lot, huh?" "Yeah. And..." Kaylee stopped "Zoe...I ain't makin' you feel worse, am I?" "No." This hurt. But it didn't hurt worse. Kaylee took the gauge back, then put it gently down. "I just wanted to say, and I know you know this, but...all pilots ain't like Wash was. They want the ship to do everything she's supposed to and they don't much care how. Wash didn't just know flyin', not just navigation. He knew ships. He told me once he took this job 'cause he fell for Serenity and stayed with it 'cause he fell for you." The tears were awfully close now, but she managed half a smile. "I heard that tale myself." Kaylee turned 90 degrees, leaned against Serenity's engine and took Zoe's hand. "Lao-tyen boo...he could fly. I never knew no one else who could fly like that. And it was partly 'cause he knew what his ship could do. He trusted me to keep her in shape, but if we were in a hurry or I asked he could help me with just about anythin' needed to be done." Zoe gripped the girl's hand. She'd not thought until today about the sheer volume of time Kaylee had spent with Wash. Zoe and Wash were alone together at night. But every time she and Mal and Jayne had gone out on a job, Wash and Kaylee had spent the time together, working and worrying. Kaylee would have been one to enjoy the dinosaurs. Wash must have appreciated someone else who'd chatter. They were a lot alike. Warm people. Joyful people. And they both loved Serenity. "You know, I didn't much like Serenity when Mal bought her." "But you do now, right?" "I started likin' her better when you got her runnin' proper." Zoe paused. "I didn't like Wash when Mal hired him" Kaylee tried to smile. "I know. He liked tellin' that story." "But I never told you... I ignored his flirtin', figured it were just his basic reaction to all females. Then you came aboard. I watched him watch you rewire his nav system. He never took his eyes offa you." Kaylee shook her head. "Weren't me. Wash never took his eyes off the wirin'." "Yeah. Took me a while, but I did see that myself. You got out from under pilot console and he told you Bester was a damn fool to let a genius near his job. But if the man flirted at all I didn't see it. I think that was the moment I started to like him. I guess owe you for that." "For not bein' attractive enough to tempt him away?" Kaylee gave a watery giggle. Zoe rolled her eyes. "That didn't come out too polite." "Don't matter. I think its just that...I guess it felt like me'n Wash were kinda like you'n Mal. You shared a war an stuff. We shared...knowin' about boats. It weren't never romantic, but..." "You were a team. I hadn't thought 'bout that 'til just now." "I didn't much either, 'til I ripped this part out. But...Zoe, I miss him." Kaylee was crying again now, in earnest. Zoe held still one more moment, and then let her own tears fall. Silently, but steadily. She put her arms around Kaylee, who grabbed on. They were there for a long time. Eventually, Kaylee felt Zoe start to pull back. Kaylee let go, but kept hold of Zoe with one hand. With the other she held up the bit of metal Zoe had found her crying over. "Zoe?" Zoe drew a deep breath, let it out. Felt like maybe there was one less she'd need to avoid now. "Yeah?" "Do...do you want to know where this goes, how it works?" Kaylee handed her friend the rotational gauge. Zoe looked at it in silence for a long moment, then nodded. "I surely do." ### The End ### From wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Thu Jan 26 05:09:16 2006 From: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au (wily_one24@yahoo.com.au) Date: Thu, 26 Jan 2006 05:09:16 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Pieces Pieces: the fourth quarter. _R_ (0/4) Message-ID: *** This template was automatically generated by the *** The Firefly's Glow Archive Story Upload Form. Please *** use it to get your story in the archive instantly! *** http://firefly.populli.org/cgi-bin/upload.cgi Title: Pieces: the fourth quarter. Series: Pieces Author: Jacqui Feedback: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Status: NEW - Series Rating: R Genre: het Characters: Malcolm, Zoe, Kaylee, Inara, Jayne, Simon, River Pairings: Jayne/Kaylee Summary: Sometimes pieces fit, sometimes they don't and sometimes they can't be put back together. Final installment. Sequel to: Pieces: the third quarter. This story is available at the archive: [106k] http://firefly.populli.org/archive/12/piecesthe3.shtml From wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Thu Jan 26 05:09:16 2006 From: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au (wily_one24@yahoo.com.au) Date: Thu, 26 Jan 2006 05:09:16 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Pieces Pieces: the fourth quarter. _R_ (1/4) Message-ID: Pieces: the fourth quarter. by Jacqui wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Part 1 Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary. Disclaimer: All hail the mighty Joss. I don't own 'em and I sure don't make any money off them. That said, the last little character, she is mine. Feedback: Oh, yes, yes, YES. Can I make it any more obvious? Comment here or email: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Comments: Written for the Joss100, this section contains prompts 76-100, plus a little extra epilogue piece. You can take or leave the epilogue. I kinda like it. *** Prompt 076: Terror. Words: 765. HANDS. "Jayne!" She felt the dust scratch on her legs as she was dragged back, hands twisting her shoulders and arms back until she cried out with it. Somebody else, a man whose voice made her shiver said something to Jayne she couldn't hear, but she'd seen the gun. The hood came over her head before she could scream again, a black cloth that tasted foul in her mouth, like old sweat and grime. It tightened painfully around her neck and she was dragged up to a standing position. One of them had let her arm go to hold it and her hand scrambled at the bag, but it was already tightening so hard she could barely gasp. Without thinking about it, she ran her hand up the arm that was holding the bag and dug her nails into the soft flesh of the underarm. A loud curse followed and she felt cool air rush in as she was let go. Immediately she stepped back, trying to get away as she tore the bag from her head and tossed it into the dust. She blinked in the half light of the moon. A foot found the back of her knee and she fell to the ground again, gasping. She managed to see someone move next to her, but didn't have time to react before his hand was twisting in her hair, making her wince. "Get up." Kaylee was dragged up again, her feet skidding for purchase in the dust. Her eyes rolled to the left and she saw the other man nudging at Jayne with his gun. A vivid gush of red oozed down the side of his face. The man who held her brought his face close to hers and his breath smelled like cabbage. "You're a feisty one, ain't ye?" She spat at him. His eyes flashed and his whole grip on her shifted as he reared his free hand back. Her eyes closed and she waited for a blow. It didn't come and she heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked. Her eyes opened slowly and she saw the man standing over Jayne as he pointed his gun at the man holding her. "Don't mark her face." The words chilled her. "How many times do I have to tell you?" "Please?" She spoke to the man with the gun, figuring he was the leader. "Please, let us go?" "Let you go?" His eye brow arched and the two men holding her laughed. "How about no?" "Please, he's hurt..." She couldn't help but strain her neck against their hold, feeling her hair pull as she tried to see Jayne again, still kneeling, still dazed and bloody and face slack, his eyes angry. "At least let me make sure he's okay." "You're asking me for favors?" He sounded amused and Kaylee hated him. "Oh, don't worry, your friend here will be fine." Jayne gave a grunt as the man kicked him, almost as an afterthought to his speech. "He's a little drugged up right now, so we can take him to the transport ship. But he'll be just fine, I'm sure they'll get at least four or five good years of hard, manual labor out of him before he breaks." She shivered when he turned to face her full on, his eyes sliding up and down her body. "You, however, you don't look like you're built for physical work at all." The cabbage man sneered as he let his hand wander. "I reckon I can find something real physical for her to do." There were too many hands, holding her tight, holding her still as she tried to squirm away from them. She could feel fingers squeezing the skin on her arm until it was impossible for there not to be bruises. "Stop it?" Kaylee felt a tear sneak out from her eye and slide, hot and vengeful, down her cheek. "Please?" "You heard her boys." The man with the gun stepped closer. "She asked you to stop it." And they did. She looked at him, trying to figure out his new game. "I'm interested." He leaned down close to her face. "I'd really like to see how far you'd go to save this man of yours." "No." She shook her head. "No." "Let her go." The voice came from behind them. Kaylee felt hope surge in her body as she began twisting around to look. Another hand caught the crook of her elbow and she found herself slammed up against the leader, his gun pointing straight up her chin. "Simon." She whispered. *** Prompt 077: Betrayal. Words: 750. CUCKOLDED. Jayne forced his eyes to stay open, forced himself to stay alert enough to see what was happening. Kaylee was trying not to whimper, held against the man who'd knocked him down. The two of them stood right next to him and if he was quiet about it, went slow about it and didn't make a fuss, he could reach out and let his fingers wrap around her calf. The muscles bunched up under his hand and then relaxed. He heard her take a deep breath, sucking the air in through her teeth, and hoped she knew he was still there, still with her. All of them were looking forward. "I said, let her go." Simon was standing there with some man Jayne hadn't seen before, but there weren't no mistaking the uniform he was wearing. The expression on his face didn't exactly fill Jayne with relief. "Sheriff." Gun man greeted him genially. "How's things tonight?" "Been better, Eli." A slow, lazy jerk to the side, indicating Simon. "This man reckons you've got something of his." Everything was happening in slow motion and he couldn't figure if it was the rest of them or the drugs sliding through his blood and making him dizzy. "Something of his?" The man named Eli laughed and Jayne heard Kaylee gasp. "You mean this? She's yours is she?" "Yes." Simon bit out and Jayne had to wonder why the hell he didn't bring his own gun. "She's my... intended." Jayne gritted his teeth. "Sorry to hear it, Son." Eli laughed again. "'Cause I think you're being cuckolded here. The way these two were goin' about." "That true?" The sheriff swept his eyes from Simon, over to Jayne and ended at Kaylee and Eli. "'Cause we had an agreement an' if she's as good as married, you gotta let her go." "Yeah." Spoke up one of the men who Jayne had marked for pain after they'd manhandled Kaylee. "But if she's just playin' around with this one here, then she's fair game. Your rules. They won't be missed." "No." Simon was quick to answer and Jayne was just about ready to hit him, just as soon as he could stand up and beat these other guys down first. "He's nobody. Just the bodyguard." "Bodyguard?" Jayne felt Eli's foot press down firmly on his ankle and had to bite back a groan. "Either way, you've been screwed. He wasn't protecting anything." Kaylee's leg twitched and he felt her clench against his hand, he gave it a gentle squeeze back. "Awful close for a bodyguard." Said one of the other men. "She toys with him." For someone who got nervous ordering whisky at a bar, Simon was comin' up with these answers mighty quick. "Like a pet. He's nothing more than a dog that follows her around." He felt Kaylee stiffen next to him. "That right?" Eli sneered and Jayne heard Kaylee gasp again. "What is it? You with that boy over there? Or you gonna stay with us?" "He's..." There was a strain in her voice Jayne didn't even want to think about. "He's telling the truth." Eli sighed dramatically. "That's a bit disappointing." And she was suddenly shifted out of his reach, Jayne watched her being pushed forward, stumbling as she scrambled towards Simon. "Well then, prove it." "What?" Simon gasped out the very question Jayne was thinking. "I said prove it." Jayne was gonna smash this man's face in. "The two of you being so intended and all." She'd turned to look back at him and Jayne met her eyes. He almost wished he hadn't. He could see the fear in them and tried to smile, tried to give her some other reassurance that he'd be alright. By the way her eyes widened, he didn't think the message had gotten through. "Give him a kiss, sweetheart." Eli explained. "And make it worth our while. You can pretend your life depends on it. If that helps any." He couldn't watch, Jayne knew he shouldn't watch, not when she'd started crying again, not when he could see the way her shoulders trembled as she turned away from him. Not when she stepped towards Simon and certainly not when she pressed herself into his arms and kissed him like she'd done it a million times before, as if she'd never stopped doing it. But Jayne couldn't look away and he bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood as the catcalls started to sound around him. *** Prompt 078: Loyalty. Words: 608. DIBS. If they got out of this alive, Kaylee was going to kill Simon, she was going to take a wrench and beat him until he no longer resembled anything remotely human. Bile rose in her throat as she turned to look back at the three men standing over Jayne. "There." She spat. "Now let us go." "Us?" Eli grinned, hamming it up for his more than captive audience. "My dear maiden, there is no 'us' here. There's a you, you're free to go. But the lap dog? He stays here." To prove his point, he twisted his hand into Jayne's hair and drew his head back, hard and fast, so that Jayne was gasping upwards, a sound wrenched from his throat. "Jayne!" She couldn't stop herself starting forward, from moving towards them and Simon's hand came around her waist quick and hard, holding her back. Kaylee breathed in and forced herself to relax, to stand still. Her eyes drifted from Jayne, from his clouded eyes that rolled back and forth, to the rocks behind them. To the sight that had greeted her before. She'd turned back to tell them all to go to hell, that she wasn't going to play their games. Three men, only one of which was armed, they stood a chance against. Her, Simon and even a half incapacitated Jayne, they could take them. She hadn't needed Jayne's gentle squeezing of her calves to understand that. But she doubted they stood much of a chance against the dozen or so more armed men lounging over the boulders. Watching them. She'd had to make her performance good and she had to make it believable. Even if she hated herself for it. Even if it made Jayne glare like a wounded beast. "What's it going to be, then?" Eli smirked. "Are you going, or are you staying with us? The more the merrier, we hear, and you look like know how to have a good time." "We're not leaving without him." She glared at him, because it was easier to face him and his threats than to look at Jayne. His eyes bored into her, hazed, but still wild and full of a vicious anger. Easier than noticing Simon's hand holding her back from doing something stupid. "I call dibs, boys, she's mine first." Before this night was through, Kaylee promised that she was going to see Eli bleed. His eyes glittered as he looked her over. "Have to admit, sweetheart, you're..." A single, sharp shotgun blast sounded from the distance and Kaylee's eyes widened as she saw the hole spread through Eli's chest. His face blanked out in confusion and he slowly fell forward. Silence. A second shot sounded and the Sheriff next to Simon fell. Chaos erupted as the men hidden over the boulders began to gather their weapons and search the distance. The two unarmed men by Jayne began to scramble at Eli's body for his gun. "Well, well, well." Oh, Kaylee had never felt so happy to hear that voice in her life. "Seems we got a delivery of parts and now we're here to collect our mechanic." She turned to see Mal striding towards them, Zoe at his side and Inara and River behind them. "Well, Zoe?" As far as Kaylee was concerned, Mal could sound as smug as he liked. "Yes, Sir." Came the answer. "Big. Damn. Her..." An explosion went off above the rocks and the men that could, began to scatter. "Grenades?" Mal spluttered "River? You brought grenades?" "Probabilities were high." Came the answer, unconcerned. "It seemed warranted." Kaylee threw Simon's hand from around her and ran to Jayne. *** Prompt 079: Enemy. Words: 891. HIS OWN WORST... Kaylee was fine, she was going to be okay. Jayne made sure of that fact before he gave over to it and let himself topple forward onto the ground. The grit hit his face hard and he felt it mingle with the blood, scratching his already raw temple, but he didn't really care. There was something wrong with time, it was going too fast or it was going too slow, one or the other, he couldn't tell. Either way, it wasn't going the way it should. He felt soft hands that couldn't be anyone else other than Kaylee. Heard her voice calling for Mal and Simon. A cough bubbled up into his throat as he was forced up, propped up with one arm around Mal and the other around Zoe. "Keep him walking." Jayne was gonna scratch his ears 'til they bled if it meant he didn't have to hear that voice again. "Whatever drug it was will wear off more quickly that way." It woulda been funny, Jayne thought in the haze, if it was any other time. Him leaning against Mal an' Zo, them all but dragging him forward and his feet stumbling at every other step. Like he was drunk. God, he wished he was drunk. "S'there whisky?" "Not right now." That hadda be Mal, man was always pissin' on someone's parade. "C'mon, Jayne, we'll be at the ship soon." "Oh, god." Kaylee again. "Look at his ankle." "It's not broken. I checked before. What about you? You're bleeding, too." Yeah, Simon, Jayne thought, better not lose the chance to check her over real good. Oh, but that was a bad thought, better not think that. So he looked down. "S'I got a ankle?" "Yes, Jayne, you've got two of them." Zoe sure sounded pretty when her voice was warm like that. "It's your lucky day. Keep walking." "I'm fine, Simon, just..." The strain in her voice broke Jayne out of his stupor and he stopped still, fighting the urge to drop down and give into another wash of dizziness. "Leave her alone, Doc." "Come on." Mal urged him forward. "Look, there's Serenity now." Everyone was quiet after that and he felt his senses slowly returning to normal with each step they took. "Jayne?" Kaylee came to stand in front of them just as they hit the ramp. "What...?" "Mal?" He looked at the Captain. "You really got those engine parts?" "Yeah." The answer came softly. "Then you got a job to do, Kaylee." It was the first thing he'd said to her and he hadn't even met her eyes. "Best go do it and get us off this rock." He didn't need to look her in the face to see the shock that would be there, knew that she'd be covered in hurt and that her eyes would be the worst of it. That they'd be looking at him all wounded and teary. Jayne didn't trust himself to say anything else just then. He pushed himself forward, kept heading towards the med bay, not even bothering to try and fight Mal when he ordered Simon to check him out. * He lay on the gurney with his eyes closed tight. There was the soft, regular pull of weaves through the side of his head and he relished the pain, had refused any more pain meds just so he could feel every piece of dirt that was pulled from it. Jayne tried to picture Kaylee in his head. Kaylee laughing at one of his dirty jokes, her eyes sparking up so fast, the way her neck flushed with it. Tried to remember the way she looked when she was sleeping, all curled up into him, face blank and peaceful. Tried to think about her a dozen different ways other than the ones which forced themselves into his head. Kaylee sitting there with Simon. Kaylee agreeing that he weren't nothing more than a dog. Kaylee kissing Simon. Over and over again. His eyes flew open and he grabbed Simon's wrist. "You value that pretty face of yours, Doc." He felt the acid seep into his mouth and wanted to spit. "Then you best not find yourself alone with me again. You hear me?" "I didn't..." Simon's hand shook in his. "I never meant it to go that far." "You don't play with those kindsa people." He let go. "And now, you don't play with me." He closed his eyes again and let the doctor finish stitching his head, the images flooding his brain again and making him clench his jaw until it ached. And the worst part about it was that it wasn't anyone's fault. Not really. Simon had done what he thought he needed to get them out of it. Kaylee had done the only thing she could. He knew how bad it could have been for all of them. He knew it, knew exactly what they would've done to her. And he woulda yelled long and hard if she'd gone and done something stupid back there. But she hadn't. She'd played along and he'd watched and now he couldn't forget. He tried to picture something else, anything else, but he just couldn't do it. Every time he saw her face, he saw Simon's and it made his gut twist, made him swallow so hard he couldn't breathe. *** Prompt 080: Lover. Words: 528. HOLLOW. It was late when she found herself pushing open the hatch to her bunk. So late it was almost morning. The familiar sound of Serenity's engines lulled her even further to near sleep. Kaylee left River and Mal to fly them out and away, her job was done. She wasn't expecting Jayne to be waiting for her, wasn't expecting him to be in her bunk half asleep. A feeling of relief washed over her, solid and smooth, and a knot that had been building in her stomach began to untie itself. Her dress fell to the floor and she eased herself under the blankets, nestling into the warmth of them. Even her eyes ached, she was that tired and tense and worn out. "You alright?" She whispered as she reached out to touch his shoulder. A spark flew between them as her finger made contact with his skin and she felt his hand close in on her wrist, holding it still as he rolled over to face her, to lean over her. "Jayne?" "Shh." He dropped her hand off to the side. It landed next to her head and she let her eyes stretch sideways to look at it, confused. His own hand came down to land on her shoulder, sliding down the flesh of her breasts as his leg slid between hers. "Okay." She answered him softly. "Okay." It was different. That was the only word she could think to describe it. Different. Didn't want to give it any other name as he loomed over her, pushing between her legs and closing his eyes so he didn't have to look at her face. Kaylee tried to make it alright, tried to make it better as she reached up and ran her hand down his cheek. Better, as she leaned up and tried to kiss his mouth, his neck, anywhere she could reach. But he kept twisting away from her. Eventually, she fell still, falling back against the pillow as she stared up to the ceiling, her hands fisting against the sheet. She wondered if he even noticed. He slowed down, then he stopped, unfinished. His arms shook as they held him up, hovering above her. Her eyes were closed by then and she felt his breath on her face, felt his forehead touch hers lightly. "I'm sorry." His voice was hoarse and it scratched at her. "I can't." Jayne rolled away from her, curled himself into the wall, and Kaylee felt a gust of air force its way into her lungs. She opened her eyes and stared, hollow, up at nothing. His body had always been warm, had always radiated heat and that hadn't changed. She could feel it seeping from his back across the sheet, felt the urge to lay her hand across his skin, to mold herself to him. But there was a wall between them now, big and solid and strong and she didn't know how to break it down. Her throat ached with the need to reach him. His heat, lying so close and yet so untouchable, made her cold inside. Kaylee swallowed the large, choking sobs and silently cried herself to sleep. *** Prompt 081: Book. Words: 524. PENANCE. "What are you doing?" It shouldn't have surprised him that she sought him out. Jayne kept his eyes focused on the pages in front of him, kept scanning them over and over again. The words had lost any shape and meaning long ago. "Looking." Her hand came out and settled softly over his, pushing down until he had to stop running his fingers along the page. He couldn't breathe. Gently, so gently he wasn't even sure he was doing it, he pulled his thumb from out of her grasp and grazed the skin of her hand. "It's not in there." She said it softly and he closed his eyes. Blocked out everything but the feel of her skin, soft and supple under his as he drew circles. His mouth opened and he sucked the air in through his lips. He could drown in just the ripples she was causing. "Yeah, it is." And he closed the rest of his fingers around the book and pulled it closer to him, away from her. "It's gotta be." He wasn't watching her, but he was intensely aware of her sitting down at the edge of the weight bench as he sat at the head. He could trace all the minute movements she made. Just from memory alone. "Is that...?" Jayne let his fingers feel the worn cover as he closed the book, pressed the pages together and let it sit there on the bench between them. Maybe if he held them tight enough, he could squeeze the meaning out, make it ooze out the sides like butter from a biscuit. "He gave it to me." A shrug. "'Fore he left." "Jayne..." For a second, it sounded like he could find the answers in her voice. "He said if I needed something, it'd be in here. I just had to wanna find it hard enough." He risked a quick glance up and the power in her eyes made him look down again. "But there's nothin' here for real life, it's all loaves and lambs and people begetting each other." Stupid gorram book, with its stupid gorram messages about things nobody knew anymore. He hadn't seen anything in there about women with gashes on their legs, bruises the shapes of fingers on their arms and bruises bigger than that on the inside. "I miss you, Jayne." Her voice caught, hitching. "I miss..." "Don't know why." He broke in, biting his lip. "I ain't no good for you." "Yes." It was a gasp, a mantra that she'd been holding in, he could tell. "Yes, you are." Jayne closed his eyes and forced himself to remember lying next to her, feeling the way her whole body jerked with tears. Lying there, knowing it was his fault. At least he had a memory without Simon. "Gorram it, woman." He stood up, tossing Book's bible to the side. "Can't a man get some peace around here?" His bunk was empty when he climbed down into it. Stripped down and bare. He added the way she'd flinched when he'd moved suddenly to his growing arsenal of reasons why it had to be that way. *** Prompt 082: Nature. Words: 527. VAULT. There was an empty chair across from her at dinner and Kaylee pushed her food around her plate. She wasn't hungry, she hadn't been hungry for days now. Not that she'd noticed anyone having a particularly large feast since they'd flown away from Three Hills. They'd sent an alert to the cortex and, as far as they'd heard, some traffic had stopped going there, the pastor had called for outside help and things would be better there than they had in a while. A lot of disruption and the ripples of it would haunt the people involved for a long time. That sounded vaguely familiar. "It'll just take time." She said, to no one in particular, to everyone. "He'll start back with us, soon." She didn't need to look up to see the way everyone glanced at each other around her head. They'd been doing it for days, like she was a time bomb set to go off and they'd all lost the timer that told them when. "I just..." Maybe if she kept pressing the button, somebody would answer, would tell her something that would make her feel better. "... need to give him more time. He's like that. Just needs time." "Mei mei." The way Inara said it made Kaylee look up. Not one of them looked like they were gonna say anything hopeful. "What?" Not one of them met her eye. "He didn't tell you?" Zoe was scary when she talked like that, all soft and full of worry. 'Cause when Zoe got soft, it meant people better take note. "What?" She asked again, searching all of them until she came to rest on Mal. "Tell me what?" "He's leaving." And Mal didn't look happy to be giving that news. "When we touch down tomorrow, he's off the boat. He's already made a contact for a different ship." "No." But it rang horribly true. "No, he can't." She saw it, saw it in the way Mal and Inara looked at each other, like they'd had this discussion before, in the way that Zoe's eyes got all crinkled when she looked at her, in the way Simon wouldn't look up and his face blanched out white. Kaylee felt it building, a slowly rising panic. It had been hard over the last few days, but she'd kept telling herself it would get better. Things always got better. Be patient, repeated it over and over again when Jayne wouldn't stay in the same room with her, when he wouldn't talk to her, be patient. Her eyes flew to River. "But you said." It was almost like desperation. "You said about the flowers and the bees and be patient. You said! And I'm doing that!" "Kaylee..." Inara's hand covered hers on the table. "It's not applicable." River said carefully. "Jayne's not a flower. That's not his way." "What am I supposed to do?" Kaylee didn't even care anymore how pathetic she sounded. "Help me." "He's a vault." And River watched her with steady, calm eyes. "You have to break him now. Once the door is sealed, it won't ever open. Not to anyone. And it's nearly closed already." *** Prompt 083: Eternal. Words: 1240. SOME THINGS REMAIN THE SAME. He didn't even know what he was doing. Jayne knew this ship in and out, he'd been in all her corners and knew some of the good hidey holes, could list all the little foibles, like the third stair that ran down from the bridge to the cargo bay. It wobbled and, no matter how many times Kaylee fixed it and tightened the bolts, it always went back to wobbling. Everyone just stepped over it. The point was, he knew it. He'd even been here before. Not many times, in fact he could probably count 'em on one hand, but he still knew the shape of it, the smell of it. Maybe he was trying to get it all in his head so he wouldn't forget. He knocked, slow and careful. "Jayne!" Inara covered her surprise quickly as she stepped back from the door. "Please, come in." "I... uh..." It was always different in her shuttle, like walking into a different world. "I wanted to ask you a favor." Her eyes searched his for a second, as if waiting for something. "Yes." She said, finally. "Of course, Jayne. What is it?" "Well, see." Best get it over with quickly. "I asked River an' she kept telling me to go see Kaylee and then she wouldn't talk to me at all, an' I figure there's no point asking Zoe, 'cause she won't... I could pay you, if you want. I mean, I don't have much money now, but I could forward credits back once I get settled somewhere else." She blinked. "Jayne? What are you...?" It clicked. "Oh, no, not that!" It even made him smile a little. "Don't get me wrong, Inara, you're a real fine lookin' woman and all, an' maybe one time I woulda... but I don't mean that. Sorry." Her face remained calm and smooth, but he could see the amusement in the back of her eyes. It made him wonder if everyone saw it, if her clients could see things like that, or even if they cared to. "Well, I'm sure I'll manage." She smiled again and gestured to the sofa. "Why don't we sit down and you can tell me, in more detail, what you're talking about." He sunk into the sofa and, if it had been any other time, would have relaxed into it, but he was too worked up, too distracted. "I don't have much, never cared to. Things weigh you down out here." It would be so much easier if he was already gone. "So, I was wondering if I could have somethin' of yours, somethin' girly." "You want...?" She still didn't look like she understood. "Why?" "I got nothin' a girl would want." He paused. "I got nothin' Kaylee would want." She closed her eyes and breathed in before looking back at him. "You want to leave her a present?" He nodded, relieved that she'd finally caught up. "Jayne, have you considered that she doesn't want anything from you, besides yourself?" He shook his head. Not to say that he hadn't thought about that very thing, but because it wouldn't work. He was sure Inara understood that. "I'd gladly give you this entire shuttle for free, Jayne, if I thought it would help." "Yeah." He went to stand up. "I thought you'd say as much, but I had to ask. Thanks anyway." "Sit." Her eyes flashed and she pointed back down. He had no choice but to do it. Once he was settled she smiled again. She was starting to give him the chills. "I take it you haven't talked to Kaylee about all this?" "Well, no." He admitted. "I couldn't do that, she'd just try to talk me out of it." "And?" She urged him on. "Doesn't that tell you something?" "Yeah, it tells me she doesn't know what's good for her." Her eyebrows arched. "And you do?" "It ain't me, Inara." He had to make someone see. "I can't do nothin' right, never have an' I thought maybe I could do this, that I could one good thing. But I can't. I don't wanna hurt her anymore, I don't. I'm a selfish man an' if I stay here I won't be able to say no to her an' she'll come back and I'll just hurt her again." Her eyes didn't waiver. "You're hurting her now." He flinched when her hand reached out to lay upon his. "Jayne, she had to find out about your leaving from us. Don't you think that was unnecessarily cruel?" He let his head hang down and stared at the floor, it was easier than facing the understanding in front of him. "How'd she take it?" "Not well, I'm afraid. She hasn't said anything to me, I don't think she's said anything to anyone, really, but I get the feeling she blames herself." He was afraid of that. "It ain't her fault." For this he could look up. "You gotta tell her that, Inara." This here, this is exactly why anyone else would've been better. Mal woulda yelled at him, or told him how much of a cock he was being. Zoe would probably have just slapped him and told him to grow a pair. River would've just rolled her eyes and told him to go talk to Kaylee. He could take yelling, he could take all the insults and challenges to his manhood, he could take it all and give it back in spades. But Inara? Inara was makin' him think. "That's not my responsibility and you know it." Yeah, he was afraid of that, too. "It seems to me that she doesn't blame you and you don't blame her. So the fact that you're both off blaming yourselves is nothing more than a useless waste of time." Okay, maybe Inara could get mean. "But..." "Talk to Kaylee." She patted his hand and then stood up. "And that's not a suggestion. You owe her that much." (Continued in part 2) From wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Thu Jan 26 05:09:16 2006 From: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au (wily_one24@yahoo.com.au) Date: Thu, 26 Jan 2006 05:09:16 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Pieces Pieces: the fourth quarter. _R_ (2/4) Message-ID: Pieces: the fourth quarter. by Jacqui wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Part 2 See part 0 for header information. She was right, Jayne knew it, had been trying to talk himself out of it for days. Maybe he'd been trying to talk himself into it, he wasn't sure. He didn't know whether he'd get the courage to do it, or if he'd chicken out. Or even if anything good would come out of it if he did. But whatever else, there was something he'd wanted to do to Inara for a very long time. "Yeah." He stood up and began edging towards the door with her. "Thanks for talkin' to me, I know you're her friend and all." "I consider you a friend, too, Jayne." She smiled again. "I hope you remember that." "Well, then." He leaned in a little closer. "Friend to friend? I think you should take your advice more often, it's good advice." "My advice?" There was that look of confusion again. "In what?" "Talk to Mal." He was expecting the way she widened her eyes a little. "If anyone needs to talk, it's you two. Maybe you'll get to kiss him again." "What?" And there was the shock. "I've never kissed Malcolm Reynolds!" He waited with a cocky expression on his face and her cheeks flushed a real pretty red. "He was unconscious, near death and he doesn't know. That doesn't count." She gathered her robe tighter around her shoulders and frowned at him. "How did you know?" "I didn't." He grinned. "'til you just told me." And there was the anger. "Out!" *** Prompt 084: Serenity. Words: 1201. TRACES. Kaylee stood in front of her door, biting her lip as she looked at the name plate. River had done a good job, better than she could have asked for. If anyone had asked her to put a piece of Jayne in something, she would have drawn a gun or something big. But River hadn't, she'd given one of the flowers an eye for its blue center. And it was watching her now, glaring at her, sharp and accusing and disappointed. Jayne was gone, she'd messed up and she'd lost him. Serenity had been docked, silent and still, for over an hour. She'd lost all her nerve and hidden in the engine room, because she knew he couldn't leave without saying goodbye. Jayne wasn't perfect, far from it, but he wouldn't ever leave her hanging, just disappear into the wind without a word. Nobody was that cold. Yet he was gone. She'd grown restless, edgy with the wait, skin prickling and brain ticking over every second until she was ready to crawl the walls with it. Serenity was a small ship, too small for a grown man not to be found when somebody was looking for him. And she'd looked everywhere, finding nothing but blank rooms behind every door and then the hollowed out shell of his bunk. Empty. There was no trace of him there, not even a trace of herself, nothing but the faintest, barely there smell of him lingering in the air. A few days of space travel and the recycled air would take care of that sure enough. He was gone and there wasn't anything to do but slip down into her bunk and cry. "Took your gorram time." She couldn't breathe, the air was sucked out of her bunk. At least, that's what it felt like. He was sitting there, just lounging back on the bed and looking so comfortable, like he really did belong there, that it all began to ache again. Kaylee couldn't breathe, but she could speak. "You can't leave." She'd thought it would be hard, that there'd be long, awkward silences, gaps and stutters in their words that would be covered by embarrassed glances. Or, worse, hot, angry stares and words so vicious they drew blood. But this? This was the easiest thing she'd done as she looked at him. "You ain't allowed to leave, Jayne Cobb. Do you hear me?" "Kaylee..." He sat up straight, watching her with bright, bright eyes. "I don't care if you don't want me no more, I'll stay away from you. I'll do whatever it takes, but you can't leave this ship. It won't be the same if you go." "You'd get over me soon enough." He stood up. "All of you, you'd move on." She stepped forward, shaking her head. "You wanna know what it'd be like if you left?" Kaylee hadn't even known she'd thought about it so much, but apparently she had. "We're gettin' small, too small an' Mal'd have to hire someone else. An' he'd have to be big an' mean, just so's we can keep doing all the jobs. An' he'd smile at Mal and Zoe and Simon, but me an' Inara an' River, we'd have to spend our time locking our doors and stayin' out of his way an' making sure we're never left alone." He turned his head, just a little, cocked it to the side to watch her. "And Inara would leave again. She'd have to, she couldn't afford that kinda stuff in her line of work. An' then Simon would take River and they'd be gone, too, because they couldn't stay, not with new people who'd sell 'em off. An' I'd be left too scared to leave my bunk, just wondering when he'd be coming for me." "Mal'd space any guy before he let happen." Jayne frowned. "You know he would." "It'd only have to happen once." She insisted, still happily full of steam. "And what about you? You ready to go back to that? Havin' to share a bunk with someone who'd slit your throat as soon as move aside to let you pass, never able to leave anything around in case it gets stolen? Getting only a half of what you deserve from a job, scraping by on whatever food they think about letting you eat, 'cause they'd rather hoard their takings than buy bigger rations? Never bein' able to sleep, 'cause you gotta keep an eye out for any body who's got worse thoughts than you? Or..." "Kaylee." He reached out. "Stop it." "See? You can't leave." Big, big eyes that blinked up at him. "You're just not allowed to." She hated this, she hated not being able to know what he was thinking. He was so easy to read sometimes, 'cause Jayne may have been many things, but complicated was never one of them. Right then he was a big, stone wall of nothing and she felt like beating her fists against his chest until he crumbled. "Like I said." She insisted. "I'll stay out of your way, you won't ever see me. You just... you just can't go. You leave and the whole ship falls apart." He was such a big man, he took up all the space there was and yet, somehow, he always managed to fold into himself, to squeeze himself down so that he could look into her eyes, face to face. "Is that it?" He frowned. "S'at all you want me here for?" And she hit him. Couldn't quite stop herself from rearing her hand back and punching the vulnerable curve of his neck, where it sloped down into his shoulder. It gave her a slight sense of satisfaction to see him flinch back from her. "Chu ni duh!" She spat it out. "Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng!" "Kaylee!" "You get the hell out!" She pushed him towards the door, scrambled her hands over and around his shoulders to his back and shoved him at the ladder. "I can't believe you, Jayne!" "What?" He tried to grab her hands, tried to stop her frantic attack. "What I do?" "I've been the one tryin' to talk to you!" Her voice raised to a shout. "Me! I've been the one tryin' to make it all good 'tween us and you've done nothing but stay outta my way." Another whack across his arm. "You wouldn't talk to me!" Whack. "And now you're gonna play the dumb one? You're gonna try and act... like you don't...?" He managed to grab her right wrist, so she began hitting him with her left hand. "How dare you?" Her foot jumped forward on its own and kicked him in the shin. "I've a good mind to..." "Ow." He struggled to grab her left hand. "Quit it!" "Make me! You tah ma..." Just like that he kissed her, hot mouth over hers and arms coming around to grab her shoulders and surround her and oh, how she'd missed that. She frowned as she pulled her face back, put on her fiercest glare. "You ain't forgiven." "'Course not." He agreed. "You made me feel like crap the last few days, jackass." "You got a filthy mouth, babygirl." *** Prompt 085: Gold. Words: 809. ALCHEMY. Jayne sat at the table and turned the little piece of metal over and over in his fingers, twisting it from side to side so he could look at it from all angles. He didn't know what had happened and he'd had plenty of time to think about it. He'd gone down into her bunk so he could talk to her, to tell her what he was feeling and let her decide what she wanted and then, before he knew it, she was yellin' and he'd said something stupid. 'Course, he'd heard what he was saying when he said it and he figured if he'd been standing off to the side and had to listen to it, he'd've grabbed a big, heavy stick and beaten himself too, probably until he bled. Then he'd kissed her and she'd melted in his arms and none of the words had gotten out and a little piece of him kinda liked it that way. He hated the talking part. Hated it with a passion. 'Course, another piece of him just called him a coward. It was easy to ram that piece back in whatever dark recess it came from, no matter how right it was. It wasn't like he felt guilty or nothin', distracting Kaylee like that. That was what she wanted, was what she'd been trying to say all along. It was. No reason to feel bad at all. Not a one. The little piece of sparkly in his hand began to look more and more like the tin it was. "Pretty presents for pretty girls." "Yeah." Jayne didn't even have the energy to bite back at River. "Maybe." When he'd set out to go get his stuff back from that ship, Mal had been waiting for him. Laughed as he said he'd known Jayne would never've left and so's his stuff wasn't ever loaded onto the other ship. Gorram, but it was hard to argue with a man when he was right. Gave him some time to walk around the small town and think. Not avoid. He'd been doing that enough and he'd told himself he wasn't gonna do that again. No, it wasn't avoiding. It was looking. He was looking for something to make up for what he'd done. At the time, standing at the stall with all the shiny trinkets, he'd been blinded by reflection of the sun on 'em, fell to the practiced spiel of the barker. 'Course, he'd been lookin' at the real pretty pieces, the ones behind the glass. But he didn't have enough coin for one of those, not nearly enough. His fingers had pressed the coin through the fabric of his pockets, mentally counting up the totals, his eyes sliding from the locked cabinets to the display cushions and, finally, to the little boxes in front. There weren't nothin' wrong with this one. 'Ceptin' it wasn't one of the ones he'd wanted. "She'll want it." River told him. "It will be precious to her, because it's from you." "Might be good." He tried to smile. "But I'm not sure if I'm enough to make gold outta tin." "You want the Philosopher's Stone." "The what?" Well, maybe Jayne could find some energy to bite back at her if she started going all loopy again. "I look like a philosopher to you?" "Not a thing." She gave him one of those looks, the one that meant he was being slow. "An ideal. Alchemists on Earth that Was, they believed the Philosopher's Stone would help them make gold out of lesser materials." "Guess I do need that, then." He sighed. "You know what it is, do ya? Know how to do it?" "Kaylee does." She reached out and her hand danced on his wrist. "Like Midas, she touches everything and it turns precious." Jayne couldn't help but be disappointed. "Don't think it'll work this time." "Kaylee doesn't need gold." River frowned, her voice getting edgy. "She is gold." "Ain't no one shinier." He agreed. "Gold is more than shiny rock." She tapped his arm to make him look up at her. "It's valuable, dear in more ways than one. It's strong, incorruptible, but made corruptors of many. And it bends, molds, folds into patterns that it's forced into. Malleable, but never breakable." He wasn't sure he understood and she sighed at him. "It's stronger than it looks. You can bend it, but it won't break." And now he didn't want to understand. His fingers squeezed the little trinket tightly, so much that it left dints in the pads, crevasses in the whorls of his fingerprints. "I don't think..." "Kaylee will want it." River insisted. "She will like it." "Yeah, but she deserves better and I'll get it for her." He stood up and let the ring clatter to the table. "You might as well have this one." *** Prompt 086: Silver. Words: 901. TIME AND EFFORT. Something was wrong and Kaylee knew it. Not bad wrong, just different wrong. A little part of her couldn't help think about the way Jayne had been before. So open to her, laid out bare and just so generous with himself. Always giving. He was just so tight now, all coiled up like he was waiting for the next strike. Like he was wary of her, like she was the one about to attack. It made her edgy and brittle, trying to work around him, trying to make it right for him. She asked Inara. Not that she was expecting the answer she was looking for. Inara told her that she needed to give it time and patience. Time and patience, that was all fine for Inara, everything Inara did was slow and smooth and perfect. Inara saw her clients for days, sometimes only hours, time often won out over patience, because she didn't need much of it. Kaylee saw herself dangling on a wire for a very long time trying to wait Jayne out of it. And she'd never been very patient. She asked Zoe. Zoe told her that they needed to work at it, that any relationship worth having took effort and was the better for it. She didn't want to argue with Zoe on that point, because that just seemed cruel, but Kaylee could have screamed with it. It wasn't as if she hadn't been trying, she'd been trying so hard. That left Mal. And Mal had laughed, low and amused. Told her she was being silly, that she was looking for trouble when there wasn't any to be had. They were fine, Mal looked her straight in the eye and told her this, there weren't any other couple so stubborn and bull headed as her and Jayne and maybe he hadn't seen it right away, but he saw it now, that they'd work out just to spite everybody else. Then he'd gone off, mumbling to himself about crew members too blind to see what was right in front of 'em. That only left one option. Kaylee didn't like to ask River. Not really, it always made her feel just a little bit guilty. It just... it seemed like cheating. Like doing a puzzle and asking someone for help, but knowing that they'd just go ahead and spout out the answers without really letting you do the work yourself. Kinda like that. Only, River wasn't much help either. "Talk to Jayne." Was all River said as she rolled her eyes before Kaylee could even get her first word out. "I told you already." "Will it be quick?" She sighed. "Everyone else wants me to be patient." A smile quirked River's face and she looked amused. "Ooh, hey." Kaylee reached out and took her hand. "That's pretty." "I thought so." She let her eyes search the thin little band around River's forefinger, it was pretty. They'd stopped planet side for a little longer than Kaylee had thought they would, she hadn't known Simon or River had gone out, but it wasn't like she'd been paying much attention to anyone else. It made her happy that River finally got something nice. Maybe Simon was learning after all. There was only so many days out in the black that a girl could look at the same old dresses and hair ties without yearning for a little special something. And River deserved lots of special somethings. "Better be careful, though." She dropped River's hand, watching it float back down. "That sorta metal will make your skin go green." "Will it?" Wasn't that just the way, Kaylee thought. Between the two of them, Simon and River probably knew everything there was to know about the entire Universe. At least, the Universe that made up the core planets. Figured that neither of the brilliant geniuses would know about the effects of cheap materials touching their skin. "Yeah." She frowned, an idea already sparking, and grabbed River's hand again to get a closer look at it. "Don't worry, though, I can fix that." River smiled. "How?" "Got a sealant in the engine room. C'mon." River let herself be dragged out of the mess. "Won't take much, just some careful, fiddly applications. Probably take more'n one." "Fiddly?" River echoed. "You mean it will take time? And effort?" Kaylee stopped and gave her a pointed look. "Yeah, just like that. Maybe a bit of patience, too. I know what you're doing." She held out her hand and waited, amused. "But I'll still do this for you. Hand it over." "You came to me." River shrugged, but slid the ring off her finger anyway. "I'm helping." A shadow passed over the girl's face and Kaylee smiled. "Don't worry, it'll be fine. The sealant'll probably make it a bit thicker, but you got real tiny fingers so that don't matter, and then you'll be able to wear it all the time without worrying about your skin." "Was never worried." "'Till I came along, I guess." Kaylee found a string and threaded the ring onto it. "As long as no one looks too closely at it, it'll look just like the real thing. Better than real." River's eyes watched carefully as Kaylee lowered it into the small drum of thick, pearly liquid. "Silver and gold." She whispered. "Maybe not that good." Kaylee chuckled. "But close. And it'll always be pretty." *** Prompt 087: Hero. Words: 485. THE FIRST LINE OF DEFENCE. "It's okay." Kaylee ran a warm hand down his arm. "Really." Jayne scowled. "No, it ain't." "It could happen to anyone." "Don't happen to me." He knew he was being stubborn and he didn't care. "Not ever. I ain't no boy wet behind the ears an' nowhere else." "But, Jayne..." She had her soothing voice on, but it wasn't exactly soothing him any. "You were just nervous." "Nerves ain't got nothing to do with it." By the way she bit her lip, he could tell she was trying not to laugh. If she laughed, he was just gonna walk away, leave her to her fit of giggles until she could be serious again. Didn't she have any idea how humiliating this could be? "Don't blame yourself." At least she was trying to make him feel better. "It wasn't like..." "I don't." He could still be grumpy about it, though. "I blame you." "Me?" Her eyes went large and her face went red. "What'd I do?" "You were all..." He gestured into the air. "With the flailing and the squealing." "I didn't squeal!" The slow, warm pat down his arm turned into a firm slap. "It's not my fault, it was... it was just so big." "Yeah and the fuss you was making, it was more scared of you than you were of it." "For the last time." She glared. "I wasn't scared. It was just... it was messy." Her nose crinkled up at that last part. "Yeah." He grinned. "It was, wasn't it?" Zoe walked past them and glared. "You got it in my hair, Jayne." "Yes." River wasn't above glaring, either. "And my shoe." "Don't know what you're all grumblin' for." He sighed. "I'm the one wasted precious ammo from Vera." "It was very brave." Kaylee grinned. "Thank you." Jayne grinned back. "Yeah." Mal strode up and sighed, batting his eye lashes. "He's my hero." "Oh, you shush, Cap'n." Kaylee wrapped her arms up around his and held on tight as she poked out her tongue at Mal. "It was very brave." "Kaylee." Mal looked at them both and he could see the patience wearing thin. "He shot a bird. A poor, innocent, little bitty bird." "Into little bitty pieces." River scuffed her shoe in the dirt. "With a semi automatic." Zoe added as she delicately picked something Jayne wasn't gonna look too closely at out of her hair. "What's heroic is the amount of time I'm going to spend washing this." "Well." Kaylee humphed and pulled him closer. "The bird attacked me, first." Hell, it was worth staying here for all the ribbing if it meant Kaylee got all huffy and defensive over him. She was cute like that, hell, she was cute all the time, but especially like that. "I told ya all, already." He pretended to glare. "I didn't know it was a gorram bird when it first came at you." *** Prompt 088: Villain. Words: 538. I'M GOING TO TURN THIS SHIP AROUND... Kaylee grabbed the ear piece and let it dangle from her fingers. "C'm here." Jayne glared. "Give it." "No." She poked her tongue out and held it further out of his reach. "Make me." "Oh, I'll make you, alright." His eyes glittered as he used one arm to pin her waist down, reaching over her body with his bulk as his other arm stretched out past her. "This isn't a game." "Hey." She squirmed, stomach down, into the dirt. "Let me go." "Make me." He countered, copying her tone exactly as he wrestled her fingers. "Right here?" Now, that was a low down, dirty trick, using that voice, and she was fairly certain that wasn't in the rule book, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do. "Out in the open?" "Gorram it." He stilled with a little groan and she grinned, spinning around to lie on her back under him. "Kaylee, that ain't fair." "Sure it is." She pulled her hand in close to her chest, wrapping the ear piece up into her fingers and holding it close. "An' we both know it." "Like that is it?" He challenged and that was a dark, dangerous glint in his eye. "Fine." His fingers were strong and nimble and they knew exactly where to prod and poke to leave her squealing and twisting away from him. "Stop it!" Feet scrambling in the dirt, trying to push her back. "Jayne! Stop it! Tickling is cheating!" "Ain't no cheating out here." He grinned, face glowing with success. "An' we both know it." "You're not going..." Her face screwed up with concentration as her right hand snuck out from his reach. "... to win." "Sure I..." The sharp sound of skin hitting skin made him stop and slowly, slow enough for her to notice the bright red shape of her hand making its appearance on the back of his shoulder and form a mask of innocence and concern, Jayne turned away to look. "Sorry." She said it quickly, but they both knew it mean nothing as she smiled guiltily. "How many times I tell you?" He pretended to glare. "Stop hittin' me." He slapped her arm. "Ow!" She pouted and slapped him back. "Fine." He did it again. "Ow!" Kaylee glared. "Cap'n! Jayne hit me!" "You don't stop it right now an' I'm gonna hit both of you!" The small, tinny voice sounded through the ear piece in her hand. "Now, bi zuie and let me make this contact." "You don't gotta be so grumpy." She sulked. "You big meanie." "Yeah Mal." Jayne's eyes gleamed as they both tried not to laugh. "Lighten up a bit." "Lighten...? I'm stuck out here without my first mate 'cause she's gotta go back to the ship and clean up." He'd started his rant now and they rolled their eyes at each other. "I been listenin' to you squabblin' like kids for the better part of an hour an' if you make me miss this deal 'cause you can't behave I'm gonna..." "Excuse me?" A second voice came through. "You Malcolm Reynolds? 'Cause I could come back if you need some time..." Kaylee looked at Jayne and they both burst out laughing. *** Prompt 089: Soul. Words: 521. ONLYIFYOUWANNA. Ai ya, but he was a stupid fool. Jayne wondered how he had ever thought leaving the ship and leaving this girl was the best thing to do. Musta been feverish in the head, yeah, that was it. "C'mere, you." He hooked his finger into the empty belt loop of her coverall and dragged her closer to him. Her body bent slightly, hip first, feet and head following after as she let herself be backed against the wall. "Mm." Her response, a soft, thick sound coming honey sweet from her throat, made him shiver. "G'night." There weren't no way in the 'Verse he could stop himself from leaning down to kiss those lips, to feel her breath slide out over his, to feel her mouth part open and suck him in. "So, um...?" He let his eyes drift from her face to the colored plaque of her door. "You wanna, maybe...?" "Mm?" Her face grew red and her eyes lit up, like she knew what he was gonna ask, but wanted to tease him with it first. "You wanna...?" He breathed in and let it out in one long gasp. "Maybecomeintomybunktonightbutonlyifyouwanna?" She blinked. "Jayne." Her lips curled up, but her eyebrows lowered. "I been waitin' days for you to ask me that." "Yeah?" God, it was like she was tellin' him off, but she could even make that sound sexy. He wasn't sure how they made it into his bunk and closed the door, but they did. "Kaylee?" The way she turned to look at him, mouth all breathless and open, waiting for him and her eyes questioning, it made him want to do it properly. "I just, I wanted to say I was sorry." "You don't." A frown teased the edges of her mouth. "You don't gotta say that, Jayne. There ain't nothin' for you to be sorry about." "Yeah, there is." His hands twisted into themselves to stop them reaching out to her. "I acted like a dick an' you didn't deserve that. You didn't do nothin' to make me angry like I got." "It's okay." Her eyes got all shiny wet and gorram, but he hadn't wanted that. "You don't have to..." "But maybe I should." He insisted. "I trust you, Kaylee, I believe everythin' you say, don't ever think I don't. An' I know you didn't want any of that to happen an' I'm sorry for makin' you feel bad about Simon an' about what happened after." "Shh." She stood up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips, all button mouth and chaste. "I know. Okay? I know." He could feel it in the way she held on to him, hands on the side of his chest, fingers curving around his ribs and resting there. In the way she rocked forward on the balls of her feet so that her whole body leaned in toward him. In the way that her eyes looked up at him like there weren't nothin' else to look at. Gorram, but he was a stupid sonuvabitch and despite his seemingly best efforts to the contrary, she was still here. *** Prompt 090: Food. Words: 484. BREAKFAST. "It's on the ceiling." Jayne smiled, he couldn't help it, smiled down at the woman in his arms and ran a hand over her hair, sweeping stray strands of it behind her ears and off her face. "What?" He whispered it low, mouth so close to her ear he could bite it if he wanted. "What's up there?" Her eyelids crinkled. "You know." She twisted, rolling over so that she was facing him. "You're not listening." He'd watched her for a long time, he wasn't too proud to admit it, had kept an eye on her long before the doc ever came aboard. He'd thought he knew most, if not all, the things to know about her. But he never would've picked her for talking in her sleep. "'Course, I'm listening." He answered. "Look, there it is. Right up there." Wasn't just talking, either. Girl had full conversations with him sometimes. 'Course, she never remembered them when she woke up and that was a whole different sorta fun. 'Cause sometimes she got downright argumentative in her sleep and left him all ornery and grumpy and she'd wake up cheerful as ever. She obviously didn't feel like arguing, just a soft rambling about something in the ceiling panel and, if he guessed right, it'd probably turn out to be some kind of machinery she had in the back of her mind that needed checking. "You know I don't like beef stock." Then again, sometimes she didn't make any sense that he could find. And it just made him love her more. "Kaylee." He made his voice a little louder. "Kaylee?" Her face crumpled and he wanted to kiss it all over, but that would lead to a whole different set of distractions. His stomach clenched firmly against that idea. "C'mon." He gave her a small squeeze and blew air across her nose. "Time to get up. I'm hungry." "Mm." Her whole body tightened and then lengthened out in a stretch and her face smoothed out. "No." She was definitely awake. "No?" He frowned. "What do you mean, no?" It wasn't like Kaylee to miss meals. "Not hungry." She murmured as she nestled in closer to him. "Let's stay here." "Man's gotta eat, Kaylee." 'Course, said man also wasn't against the warm body rippling against his, or the hand that drew lazy circles against his belly. "So do you. Let's get breakfast while it's still there to get." The small, lazy grin on her face told him he was losing this argument fast. "There'll be food later." "Yeah, but..." He couldn't stop the whine entering his voice. "I'm hungry now." "Jayne." A long, slow drawl. She still hadn't opened her eyes and he knew the moment she did he'd be lost. "So am I." "Then let's..." Her hands gripped his sides and rolled him onto his back so she could drape herself all over him. "Oh." *** Prompt 091: Visions. Words: 654. QUESTIONS. "Hey Cap'n." She found him sitting alone on the bridge, feet propped up on the console, staring out into the black. Wasn't often that he was here by himself, or that she caught him when he was. Not anymore. She took her place in the copilot's chair. "You not sleeping, Kaylee?" The tone of his voice was enough to clue her into the fact her was asking generally and not actually looking for specific details about her sleeping arrangements. "Just thinkin' some, is all." She felt his gaze, slow and piercing. "Things still tetchy 'tween you and Jayne?" He sat up a bit straighter. "'Cause I swear, he can be dense sometimes, but..." "We're fine." She smiled and reached out to trail a hand over the controls in front of her. "I just been thinkin' about Serenity and all of us on her, how we got here and..." "Oh." Just a hint of amusement in his voice, mixed in with the concern. "Just the small things, then?" She nodded slowly. "Yeah." He was frowning when she finally looked over at him. "What made you hire us?" "You and Jayne?" She shook her head. (Continued in part 3) From wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Thu Jan 26 05:09:16 2006 From: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au (wily_one24@yahoo.com.au) Date: Thu, 26 Jan 2006 05:09:16 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Pieces Pieces: the fourth quarter. _R_ (3/4) Message-ID: Pieces: the fourth quarter. by Jacqui wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Part 3 See part 0 for header information. "Everyone." "'Cause you were meant to be here." He answered simply, sounding certain of it. "I needed a crew. Wasn't ever gonna go anywhere without Zoe. Wash could fly the ship. You could fix her. You were all good, the best." She couldn't help but wonder if he was being deliberately vague. "And Jayne?" "He's good, too." A small glint in his eye as he acknowledged his slight. "Only ever regretted hiring him a time or two. Man's gotten us out of more'n one jam I figured there was no way out of. Mighty fine tracker and the meanest sumbitch out there, which helps when we need it. He can be dumb as dog shit, sometimes, but he's still the best merc for the job." That was more like it. "You think he...?" She didn't finish the question, didn't really know how, and let her hands fumble with Serenity's dials instead. "Anyone ask me that a year ago an' I would've laughed them out of the sky." He answered her anyway. "But now, with you? I think yes." Kaylee rolled her neck, feeling the bones crack in release, then rested it on the back of the chair. "What's gonna happen?" If he knew that, she wouldn't ever argue another thing with him again. "You think? Me an' Jayne, down the road?" There was quiet and she counted the thud of her pulse in her ear drum. "Can't rightly answer you there, mei mei." He almost sounded sad for it. "There ain't no one knows for sure and that's half the fun." "But you got us." She insisted stubbornly, allowing herself a yawn. "You musta known something when you put all of us together." "Sometimes things happen, sometimes you just gotta let them happen." He stood up, pulling a blanket from the storage locker and settling it around her shoulders. "I might not be able to give you pretty visions of the future, but I can tell you about the now." "Yeah?" She blinked up at him, letting herself melt into the warmth around her. "Jayne's a simple man and once he decides to do something, there ain't nothing gonna stop him doing it. Right now, he's set his mind on you and god help anyone who gets in his way." "You got an answer for everything, doncha?" "'Course I do." He grinned as he sat back down. "I know everything. That's why I'm the Captain. That's why I got me the best crew there is." "Maybe." She snuggled close, pulling the blanket all around her. "Still doesn't explain why you hired Bester." Mal laughed out loud, a quick gun fire burst of surprise. "No. No, it doesn't. Let's just say I was drunk." Kaylee nodded in agreement. "He was pretty though." *** Prompt 092: Earth. Words: 997. WOMENS' EYES. Jayne ran his hand down the length of the barrel, the roughened pads of his fingers tuned to feel any nicks or abnormalities. There wasn't, of course there wasn't, not on his weaponry. "I ain't interested." He could feel her eyes boring into him, had felt it for a good ten minutes already. Not that his words mattered, he knew it, could feel it in the prickles rising on his skin. There were different kinds of prickles and hair raising and he could identify all of them. There was the Reavers Are Gonna Eat Me twisting of his stomach, the River's Watching Me and I Don't Like It Any skin crawling and the Somebody's Got A Weapon Trained On Me itch. Which led to the I've Just Done Something Stupid and Mal's About to Have A Weapon Trained On Me itch and the I've Just Done Something Worse and Forget Mal 'Cause Kaylee's Gonna Tear Off My Balls sinking thud. But this, this was worse than any of those and he'd gotten real good at recognizing it over the last few months. It was the I've Got Something To Say And You're Damn Well Gonna Listen 'Cause I'm A Woman and I Can Make Your Life Hell If You Don't eye burn. "You hear me?" He tried once more, 'cause it was worth the effort. "You all've been talkin' my ear off and I heard it already." "Jayne." Gorram it, but she wasn't gonna let up, was she? And he couldn't say no to that, the soft, warm voice or her steady, dark eyes. Damn but Kaylee was making him weak to a woman's eyes. "Not you." He sighed. "C'mon Zo, we got a job to do." "Job's not going anywhere." She nodded her head to the side, gesturing to the bar where Mal was ordering drinks and chatting up the contact. "I promise it won't hurt." "Fine." He laid his gun on the table and looked up at her. "What've I done wrong now?" "Nothing that I know of." The smile that edged her mouth and eyes was amused. "You know what you're doing?" He didn't even bother pretending not to know. "Not in the slightest." He watched her cock her head to the side, considering him. "Zoe, I ain't never had this before. I don't wanna ruin it none by thinkin' too hard on it." "She was asking about you, you know." He must've looked confused, because she answered his question before he even asked it. "She was asking Mal what he thought about you and her in the long term." He swallowed, couldn't help himself. "There ain't no long term." If only she wouldn't look at him like that. "You know it an' I know it. How long you reckon we got out here? Damn lucky to be where we are now." Didn't this woman ever blink? What the hell was taking Mal so long? "I don't know." He said eventually. "Okay? That what you wanna hear? I got it better now than I ever remember having it an' I don't ever see myself giving it up." "Have you told her that?" "'Course I have." He frowned. "I s'pose I have. I guess. Maybe not exactly like that, but she knows. Has to know, don't she?" "Does she?" But she didn't wait for any answer. "I bet Kaylee had a big family growing up. Brothers that got married young. Sisters that got married even younger. Probably a dog. I guarantee you she was always sure of solid ground under her feet." "What's your point?" "She might be having fun now, but how long do you think she's going to be happy slipping between bunks from night to night?" Her eyes were still watching him, steady and unflinching, but not unkind. "She's not built like us, Jayne, she's going to want security sooner or later." "Bull shit." He had to stop her there. "Maybe back home all the girls are married by twelve and have eight kids latched to the breast by fifteen and gray hair by twenty, but Kaylee ain't like that." "It doesn't hurt." Zoe's voice was so soft, it was almost a whisper, like yearning. "It doesn't hurt to give her what she wants." "She wanted that, she could've just stayed where she was, latched herself onto any man there who'd smile her way an' I know they were there." His mouth was dry and he really wanted the drink Mal was takin' his sweet ass time bringing back. "But she didn't. She chose to come aboard 'cause she wanted to get away from that. Hell, she wanted to go back, she could do it any time. But she don't. Ain't no one holding her back." Zoe rested her elbows on the table, bringing her hands in under her chin and kept her gorram eyes boring into him. And, dammit, her eyes had gone all thoughtful. "Kaylee likes those little oatmeal cookies, doesn't she?" "What?" Jayne spared a look at the bar and glared daggers into Mal's back as the man laughed with the contact. "What are you goin' on about now? Yeah, she likes 'em." "What did she do with the very last one last night?" "Huh?" He thought for a moment. "She gave it to River." "When she wanted it?" He shrugged. "I guess." "'She gave away something she wanted to make someone else happy?" And there, she was smiling again. "Sounds like something she'd do." He sank back in his chair, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "You told me this wasn't gonna be painful." He gave a soft groan. "You lied." A small clinking of glass sounded and he cracked his lids open. "Well, that was easier than I thought it'd be!" Jayne glared at Mal's happy face. "Next time don't take so gorram long!" "What?" Jayne ignored Mal as he grabbed the cup from the tray. "Did I miss something, Zoe?" "Not a thing, Sir." *** Prompt 093: Regret. Words: 736. WHAT'S IN A NAME? She giggled and draped her arms over his shoulders, resting her chin in the crook of his neck and letting her lips taste the salt on his skin briefly. Her chest pushed into his back and she let him take her whole weight. "I'm tellin' you, Kaylee." He leaned forward to give her more room behind him. "We gotta go hide before Serenity comes to life an' starts up with us." "My ship don't give advice." She purred low into his ear. "She's happy as it is." "Yeah, well." She could feel the cords in his neck shift with her. "Everyone else sees fit to ram it down our throats. Wouldn't surprise me if next time we got mail, Ma's packaged herself up in a box just so's she can yell at me." Kaylee paused as she ran her hand down the front of his chest, under his shirt. "You tell your Ma about me?" He laughed at her, a low chuckle as he turned his head away from the heavy game of cards he had splayed out all over the table in the mess, turned his head so he could give her cheek a swift, messy kiss. "Hell yeah." And another, mouth sucking on the curve of her jaw. "First time in a long time I'm doin' something she can be proud of." She had to laugh at his words. "You tell your Ma about that?!?" He brought his hand up to swipe at her shoulder. "And she's proud? That's all kinds'a weird." She was too busy playing with the hairs on his chest, feeling the deep rumble of his laugh as they pushed back and forth against each other, too busy to notice much around her. But she felt Jayne go all still and knew what she'd see when she looked up. Simon standing in the doorway, face gone pale. "Sorry." He stammered out as he gave a quick look around the empty room, nobody in the mess or the kitchen but the two of them, and then looked directly at the floor. "I'm just... going... back..." He backed out of the door and the space he left behind was engulfing. "Jayne." She said it like a sigh as she slid down and away from him. "What?" He was being deliberately obtuse, she could tell in the way his voice hardened. "He still feels rotten." "And?" Flip. A card snapped over onto the deck. "Nothin' I can do about it." "You could try an' be nice." She pouted, not that it would do any good if he wouldn't look up at her. "You haven't said one decent word to him since..." And then she left the words hanging, didn't need to finish the sentence. "I ain't got no decent words for him." Flip. Pause. Flip. "An' he don't want the ones I do got." "It wasn't his fault." She insisted gently. "He didn't do nothin' wrong, not really." "He didn't help, none, either." Jayne insisted right back. They glared at each other for a bit. "I don't get you, sometimes, Kaylee." Jayne gave in first. "A man could shoot you an' you'd gladly hand him more bullets if he asked you for 'em so he could finish the job." She really should find it harder to say what she meant, she really should, but somehow she always found herself just opening her mouth and telling Jayne exactly what she was thinking. "I can't do it." Just. Like. That. "I can't be happy with you, knowin' it came at the price of him bein' so unhappy. It's not fair." His eyes were so blue, she could give him anything he asked for, she knew it. God help her if he ever figured it out, too, 'cause he was ruthless and he wouldn't ever hesitate to use that to his advantage. And right then, his eyes were narrowing to look into hers, as if he was trying to read something. She watched them soften a little. "Okay." She didn't even know she'd been holding her breath until it fell out, a deep gust of air at his sigh. "I'll try. Will that make you happy?" "Yes." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "You always make me happy." "What?" He gave her a sidelong glance. "I can't even finish my solitaire now?" "Patience." She kissed along his jaw and up to his ear. "It's called patience." *** Prompt 094: Chains. Words: 723. CHAINS. He could feel it in his bones, scratching up and down his insides and along his skin. They were in what was supposed to be a friendly bar, well, as friendly as these places got to them. Safe, at least, most people knew them or of them and left them alone. Didn't explain one whit the feeling Jayne had been getting. "I think we're bein' watched." He leaned into the middle of the table, bringing his cup up to his lips to hide the whisper from onlookers. They all looked at him for a second, a whole second of Mal and Zoe grinning, Inara and River smiling at each other like they had a secret and Simon just raising his eyebrows. And Kaylee's soft hand inching up his side. Then they all burst out laughing. "'Course we're bein' watched, you idiot." Mal hadn't ever been one to mince words. "We've been watched for the better part of an hour." "What?" "You have a fan club." Zoe gestured to the bar. "Or, at least, what used to be..." Huh. How Jayne had missed it, he couldn't tell. He'd been scanning the crowd for anyone that looked menacing, or even slightly shady, enough to give him the creeps, but there hadn't been anyone. Yet, there they were, a group of 'em, all standing there, starin' at him and glarin' poison right through their eyes. "They look kinda angry." He shrugged. "Don't know why. They've always been nice before." More laughter. "'Course they're angry." Kaylee snuggled up closer to him. "They ain't gettin' paid." "You've probably caused a great economic slump in the last few months, Jayne." Inara teased. "Huh?" "The whores heard Serenity had landed." River told him simply. "They were looking for large amounts of coin and above average sex." "Oh god." Mal covered his ears. "I'm not aimin' to hear that." "I didn't hear anything." Simon raised his glass to his lips. "Not a thing. The last few minutes are a blank to me." "Well." Kaylee giggled against him. "They wouldn't be wrong." "That's it." Mal glared. "No more talking, dong ma? No more talking on my ship." "We ain't on your ship." Jayne supplied, helpfully. "Not now, anyways." "Don't worry, Mal." Inara told him sweetly. "We promise not to talk about, mention, or even hint at Jayne's sexual proclivities." "Or reported stamina." Zoe added. "Okay, you're fired." Mal glared at her. "You're all fired, I need a new crew." "But we were agreeing with you, Cap'n!" Kaylee smiled. "It's not our fault Jayne's good in bed." "Hell yeah." Jayne drained the last of his ale, then slammed the cup on the table. "Who needs more? I'm buyin'." "You're what?" Mal's mouth gaped even further. "Did he just say he was paying for the next round? In that case, maybe I'll start agreeing with the lot of you." He grinned as he made his way to the bar, going over the conversation in his head. Didn't take long and he wasn't there alone. It never took long. "Didn't think you'd ever be the one to settle down, Jayne Cobb." "That so?" He nodded politely to someone he vaguely recalled as using the name Sapphire. A name he remembered, specifically 'cause she hadn't had anything blue about her, not even her eyes. Stupid, really. "You just didn't seem the type." His arm itched as her hand ran up his skin, he could feel it. "You know, to be chained down and all." He drew his arm back and glared at the barman to hurry up, then turned back to the table to see them all laughing still. Kaylee was leaning in close to River, her face all happy and breathless in her giggle. "Yeah, well, some chains are better than others." "You sure about that? 'Cause you look real tense." He could smell the cheap perfume she wore as she leaned in close, it got up into his nostrils and stayed there. "You sure there ain't nothin' I can do to make you feel better?" His fingers closed in around the small bag he kept his coins in. It wasn't as full as he generally liked, but it was heavier than it'd been for a long time. "Then again." Jayne turned to eye her up and down. "Maybe there is somethin' you could do." *** Prompt 095: Red. Words: 864. SUSPENSE. "Jayne." He could feel Kaylee giggling through his lips, attached firmly to her throat. "Now they're gonna think we're havin' sex all night, the way you pulled me outta that bar and up into this room." He brought his face up so he could look her in the eye. "Well, ain't we?" "Maybe." She purred as he reached under her arm to lock the door behind her. "If you play your cards right." He had to chuckle as he kissed her chin, closing his lips around the curve of it as his hands came up to rest on either side of her face. "First, ain't nothin' wrong with the way I play my cards." He captured her bottom lip between his teeth and stretched it out, just a little, then let it go. "Second, I ain't plannin' on playin' cards." "You're a cocky hundan." She sighed. "You know it?" "Yeah." Wasn't one thing he could say to argue with that. "But I got reason to be. I got a surprise for you." "Really?" Her eyes lit up, just like that, all sparkle and glow. "What?" He chuckled again. "Don't know if you've looked up the word 'surprise' lately, but I don't think they've changed it from when I was little. Close your eyes." "Fine." She pouted. "But if I don't like it, you owe me, Mr. Cobb." "Oh." He ducked his knees to lay an open mouthed, wet kiss along her collar bone as his hands lifted the hem of her shirt. "I know you're gonna like this." Kaylee lifted her arms up and allowed him to take the shirt off, drop it to the side and leave it there, forgotten. "You takin' off my clothes ain't any kind of surprise, Jayne." "Guess not." He breathed it into her ear as he leant forward, reached around her back to unhook her bra. His whole body covered hers and she fit into the shell of him so easily. "Keep 'em closed anyway." She shivered as he blew over her neck, leaving a small trail of gooseflesh over her shoulder and down to the rise of her breasts. He watched her nipples harden and felt a gust of shaky air leave her lips and blow over his hair. Hooking his finger into the top of her pants, he pulled her forward, leading her around the few bits of furniture. "Where're you takin' me?" She frowned, but followed him. "This room ain't that big. There's nothin' here but the bed an' I'm still not surprised." "Maybe you should stop yappin' then." Couldn't help but grin as her eyebrows knitted together. "An' I can get this thing underway." "What thing?" He looked over his shoulder into the corner of the room. Everything was exactly as he'd asked it to be. Girls might not've been too happy about the loss of coin, but they were good sorts. Always had been. It didn't take long for his fingers to unsnap her pants and let them fall to the floor. "Here." He ran a hand over her shoulder and down her arm. "You can get yourself outta your panty under thing..." Kaylee giggled as his words trailed off, she twisted herself around, pulling them down and off. All the while she kept her eyes squinched shut and he wanted to kiss her face all over. God, she was beautiful. "Now what?" She stood there, completely naked, her eyes closed. It took his breath away how much she trusted him. "You just gonna stand there watchin' me in the buff?" "Well, that ain't no hard thing, babygirl." He ran a roughened hand over the soft skin of her belly, around her hip and over the swell of her backside. "But this thing isn't gonna wait." "What thing?" He could hear the frustration bubble up. "Jayne?" She whimpered in the back of her throat, husk and need and it almost made him want to forget the whole thing and just take her where she stood, then and there. Instead, he hooked his fingers around her thigh and lifted it up. "You sure got a funny way of not sexin' a girl up." He shifted her leg to the side and slowly lowered it. "Jayne!" Her hands immediately gripped his shoulders and she adjusted her stance, shifting her weight and letting him lift the other leg. "What'd you do? We can't afford..." "Shh." He gently lifted her hands from him and helped lower her all the way down. "Don't go spoilin' nothin'." Her face glowed in the steam as she lay back in the water and he watched the heat of it turn her skin a brilliant red as she smiled a lazy smile. "Oh." That there moan was worth the extra coin he'd plunked down for it. "This is nice." "Yeah." The water stung his hand when he reached into it, the heat seeping all the way through his flesh to the bones. "So just you lay back an' enjoy it." He squeezed the cloth out, watching the trickle of water, then ran it over her shoulder and along her neck. Her skin paled white under the pressure, then flooded with color again. *** Prompt 096: Sky. Words: 492. SLEPT IN. "C'mon Jayne!" Kaylee grabbed his hand and tugged him along the street. "We gotta get back!" "We're gettin' back." She heard him growl behind her. "Why're you in such a rush? You got ants in your pants?" "We slept in." Which was the nice way to put it. After he'd bathed her, makin' her body all liquid and leeched with heat, Jayne'd practically had to carry her to the bed. It'd been all his fault, the way he'd slowly dragged that cloth over her skin, following it with his mouth, blowin' cold air after the heat. It was like he'd drugged her, stealin' away any hope she'd had of moving. Then again, once they'd gotten back to the bed, she'd found enough energy to keep moving. More than enough as his hands had woken her up, sent sparks through her skin, little jolts to the her heat loosened muscles. They'd stayed up half the night, earning the gossip that no doubt made its way all over the cargo bay, bridge and around Serenity, thrown about by everyone on board. It hadn't been the easiest thing she'd ever done, getting up and getting dressed enough to head back. Jayne's answering chuckle told her he was thinking the same thing. "S'at what you call it?" Then after they'd worked their way up to awake and dressed, they'd gotten to earning the cost of the room all over again. And then some. "C'mon." She urged again. "We don't get back soon, Cap'n's gonna skin us both." "Reckon he already knows what's goin' on." His hand tightened around hers and she felt them both slowing down. "Man ain't a fool." "Jayne." She sighed it, hated to let impatience temper their good mood. "Look up." She could feel the slack loosening of his reluctance and knew he'd seen it. They continued walking back to the docking bay, maybe a little faster than they had been before. It always amazed her how different the streets of a planet could look by day. Kaylee had barely noticed how far they'd walked from Serenity, the seven of them talkin' an' jokin' along, an' her barely noticing the glow and flitter of all the lights, the clubs and the people buzzing about, everything all close and bleeding into each other. Everything seemed stripped back in the light. Separate and isolated. "C'mon." It was Jayne's turn to urge her along. "I ain't lookin' for Mal to throw us both off." His hand came around her waist and she let him guide them both faster towards Serenity, fitting into his side and the two of them moving in synch. Above them, dark clouds boiled and threatened to roll over, covering the entire town with shadows. They had a job lined up two quadrants over, Inara had a client booked, if they got landlocked during a storm, because Jayne and Kaylee couldn't keep out of each others' pants, then there'd be hell to pay. *** Prompt 097: Water. Words: 479. WORRY. "You gonna eat that?" Kaylee nudged her food around the plate a little, pushing it from one side to the other, then passed it over to Jayne. She felt his eyes on her and it prickled. "You alright?" He asked. "Yeah." His eyes weren't the only ones as she screwed her nose up. "It taste funny to anyone else?" "Tastes fine to me." Mal added from the head of the table. "Same as always." "Maybe." "Well." Jayne glowered. "You can't not eat. You gotta have something." "I will. Soon, maybe." She sighed. "I guess I'm not that hungry." "You didn't get too wet in the rain before?" Mal's question made them all look up, made Simon's eyes narrow as he scanned her up and down. She could tell they all remembered the last time she got sick and normally she'd be glad that they all cared so much, but for some reason, right then, it just felt like there were too many eyes and too many people watching over her. She frowned as she shifted out of Inara's hand coming to rest on her forehead. "I'm fine." It hadn't been that bad for a while, she thought they'd gotten past that. If they were gonna start harping on it again, watching every move she made, she was going to lose her mind. She knew it. "You sure?" Jayne's eyes were the worst, sharp and worried, looking straight through her. "You been kinda weird all day." "I said I was fine." She insisted, feeling the words grate through her teeth. "Don't start this again." "Okay." He was quick to back off and she felt almost grateful for it. "Just, you know, at least drink something. Here, have some water." As she raised the glass to her mouth, Kaylee felt her nostrils twitch in protest. The metallic scent of it reached in and made her wince. She sniffed it again, then looked up at Zoe. "When you cooked tonight, you use this water?" "No, Kaylee." Mal rolled his eyes. "She used the freshwater fountain spring that sprung up in the kitchen. It's right over there by the frolicking nyphms." He stopped when she glared at him. "What's wrong?" Zoe reached out and sniffed at her own glass. "I can't smell anything." "Me neither." Simon added as they all tested their glasses. "Sensory overload." River shrugged. "Smell is subjective to each person..." "Somethin's wrong." Kaylee said, not waiting for them all to finish. "Maybe one of the pipes needs replacing, or the tank's rusted up or something." "There's no rust on my ship." Mal told her, half seriously. "Something ain't right." Kaylee stood up. "I'm gonna find out what. I'll be lookin' in tanks if you need me." "I didn't smell anything." She heard Inara say as she walked out the door. "Nobody smelled anything." Mal answered. "You sure she's alright, Jayne?" *** Prompt 098: Nurture. Words: 687. DRILLING. "Kaylee?" She looked up from the table and blinked, her eyes were sore. She'd been sitting there for a good hour scribbling away at the pages in front of her. Sometimes it helped to sketch out engine parts, adding this or that, tryin' to figure out a way to make 'em better or stretch out what life they had left. It wasn't working much right then. "What's up, sweetie?" River smiled and held out her hand. "Can I borrow your pen?" "Soon." She smiled back. "I just gotta finish here, won't be long." "You won't need it." River said with a shrug. "Just a little bit longer." Kaylee frowned slightly and then yawned. "Unless you can tell me how to repipe the water tanks in mid space without floodin' the entire ship." "You won't need it." River repeated. "Jayne just went into your bunk with a power drill." "What?" Kaylee stood up, suddenly finding the energy she hadn't had five minutes before. She absently handed the pen to River. "He what...?" She heard River whisper a pleased thank you on her way out the door, but she didn't have the time to be annoyed at that. Not right then, anyways, 'cause the closer she got to her bunk, the louder the sound of drilling was. "Jayne!" She yelled it as she opened the door. "Jayne! What the hell are you doin'?" "Drillin'." Came the answer. "I know that." Kaylee jumped the last few steps down to the bunk and glared. "Why and what for are you drilling?" He was kneeling up on her bed, eye mask on, hands holding the drill up to the wall. She pretended not to see the little curling bits of metal spiking out of her blankets, the silver shavings scattered over her pillow. Instead, she eyed the scattered remains of her room. All the little dried flowers she'd collected, a Chinese fan, pictures she'd taped to the wall, the string of lights, everything with color that she'd slowly and diligently stored up to brighten the dingy blankness of the room. They sat discarded all over her floor. "'Cause." He shrugged. "Gotta put Vera somewhere when I move in, don't I?" She blinked. "What?" And blinked again. The bastard winked at her. "You're what?" "And I ain't gonna sleep in here without a proper place for my ladies, you know that." "But what?" "Careful." He grinned again as he lifted the eye mask with one hand. "You're startin' to sound a mite unintelligent there. An' that's my job." "But wha...?" Then she caught herself, blushing as she did it. "You said you were movin' in?" "Yup." Then he snapped the mask back in place. "So's you better think about packin' away some of your girly things. Not all, mind, but enough to give me some room." "You really wanna?" He shrugged as he lifted the drill back up to the wall. "Just said so didn't I?" And maybe he was acting like he didn't care one little bit, but Kaylee could see the tight way he kept hold of his mouth so it didn't grin, the way his neck flushed dark. "Figured there weren't no use both of us playin' musical bunks night after night." She couldn't help herself, she rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing the back of her neck. "You're the sweetest man alive, Jayne Cobb." "Hey now." He twisted his head to look at her, eyes looking huge in the mask. "You start that an' this won't be finished in time for us to sleep tonight." "I gotta go tell everyone!" She bounced on her toes. "You keep shoutin' an' they'll figure it out soon enough." "Grump." She kissed him again. "I'm gonna go tell 'em, anyway." By the time Kaylee reached the top of her... their... she grinned at the thought, ladder, she blushed deeply. Jayne was right, they were all gonna figure it out sooner rather than later. It was inevitable. On her nameplate, in quickly drying ink, someone had scribbled "Jayne and" above her name. (Continued in part 4) From wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Thu Jan 26 05:09:16 2006 From: wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au (wily_one24@yahoo.com.au) Date: Thu, 26 Jan 2006 05:09:16 -0500 Subject: [Firefly-Fiction] [NEW] Pieces Pieces: the fourth quarter. _R_ (4/4) Message-ID: Pieces: the fourth quarter. by Jacqui wily_one24 at yahoo.com.au Part 4 See part 0 for header information. "I want my pen back, River!" *** Prompt 099: Absolution. Words: 931. THE OFFER. "I was looking for you." Kaylee's reaction to the voice was automatic, she looked up so fast that she didn't even have time to think about the ramifications of it. Her head hit the metal above her with a dull thud and she groaned as she closed her eyes to gather her thoughts. "I have to say, I never thought to look in the second shuttle." "Simon." She quickly inched her way out of the small crawl space so she could stand up, she felt the distinct need to be upright when she talked to him. "River's on the bridge, waitin' for everyone else to get back." "I know." He looked shy and she was reminded of the first few months after he'd first come aboard. "I wanted to talk to you in private." "That ain't..." She paused, feeling uncomfortable and awkward and hating every second of it. "Why?" "There needs to be a reason now?" "Don't?" She couldn't stand it, couldn't stand the egg shells and the mine fields and the small hidden cracks that were going to split everyone apart. "Okay? I don't wanna start this again, I don't wanna fight, I don't wanna rehash any of it." "Neither do I." There was so much space between them, her standing just above the open hatch and him standing just inside the door, looking like he was ready to run. "That's why I'm here. I've been thinking, trying to come up with a way to make it up to you, to both of you." "There's nothin' to make up." She looked down at the wrench in her hand then back up at him. "I keep tellin' you that." "Have you told Jayne?" It wasn't angry or snide or demeaning, she could still read his voice and he was honestly interested in her answer. "I'm not sure he sees it the same way you do." "Then why don't you talk to him?" She had to put the wrench down, or she was gonna twist the shape right off it and make it useless. "Why couldn't you wait to talk to both of us?" "To be honest?" He tried to smile and she gave him points for it. "I'm not sure if he'd take kindly to that, not yet anyway." "He's trying." She frowned. "He's been real decent to you." "I know. And I'm grateful for that." The way he nodded then told her that he knew just why Jayne was trying so hard. "I just don't want to push that too hard, yet." They looked at each other, standing still, neither of them willing to make the first step forward or even away. No movement that could be misconstrued or taken as something it wasn't. Kaylee could feel the air close in around her chest. "Did you come up with something?" She just had to say something to fill in the gaps. "Sorry?" He blinked. "You said you were lookin' for something to make it up?" "Oh! Oh, yes." He paused and she waited, urging him with a look. "That is to say, no. I didn't come up with anything." "Huh?" Okay, all this tension was going to kill her. "Simon, sit down and just tell me what you wanted to say, before I beat it out of you." She went to heft the wrench at him and realized too late that she'd already put it down. It ended up looking like she was threatening him with a rather limp hand batting and it made him smile. "I thought I could get you a present." He sighed as he inched his way towards the seat. "But then River reminded me how inappropriate that might be." She scrunched her nose up in agreement. "A little." One step, she moved a little closer towards him. "Then I thought, perhaps, I could offer Jayne something. He was looking for something special to give you and I don't have much, but I did manage to salvage one or two valuable items that I was saving for... I don't know, River maybe, or something special." "He wouldn't want it from you." Kaylee couldn't be anything but brutally honest. "He wouldn't want to give me anything knowin' it came from you." "Hence the trashing of that plan." He acknowledged the truth of it. "There's not much I have here, on board this ship or anywhere really, that would help. So, after much deliberation, I finally came to a decision." "And?" "And the best thing I can do for the two of you is nothing." He looked at her, straight at her, and she saw the offer in his eyes. "Nothing I do or say will help, nothing I can give will make it better. The only thing I can possibly offer is space and time and hope that one day things will get better between us." Kaylee looked at him, looked hard, and remembered all the times in that first year when she was chasing after him. She'd tried so hard she'd lost sight of a person who had been slowly and softly trying to win her over. Jayne had seen she wanted Simon and he'd stepped back, had stood back and, apart from a few jokes and teasing, had given her the space to do what she wanted without putting any pressure on her. He'd hurt hard in that year, she knew it now, but he hadn't once said anything to let her know it, had kept it hidden well. He'd been the bigger man over all. And it looked like Simon was finally realizing that. *** Prompt 100: Clarity. Words: 865. COUNTING. "Aw, c'mon." He could hear the whine in his voice and it made him edgier than he already was. "Everyone else's going." "I said no, Jayne." She sighed as she looked at him and he saw something in the back of her eyes, a weariness that he'd never really seen in her before. "I don't feel like it." "You had fun the other week." A grin passed over his features. "Hell, we both had fun. An' we ain't gonna be doing much, just havin' a drink or two." Kaylee glared at him across the bunk. "I'm not stopping you. You wanna go, you can go." "No." He heaved a big sigh. "I ain't brave enough to go out drinkin' without you." "What?" "Reckon they'd all kill me." He didn't see any change in her expression, but he could feel the energy in the air crackle and he rushed to fix whatever he'd just done. "Mal an' Inara an' Zoe, especially, reckon they'd hang up my gonads to dry I go out a free man. Hell, it were up to them, I'd just be some other whipped man lookin' for a preacher an' a ring." Nope. He knew the instant he said it that it'd been the exact wrong thing to say. He didn't even need the way she narrowed her eyes, or the way her face got all sharp, or even the way her teeth bit into her bottom lip. She looked angry, but worse than that, she looked hurt. "I ain't holdin' you back, Jayne." She gestured at the ladder. "You wanna go? Just go. Since when do you care what they all think? You've done nothin' but complain Inara told you this an' Mal told you should do that an' Zoe said the other." There was a tear in the corner of her eye. "You ever ask once what I actually wanted? You ask me?" She shook her head, answering her own question. "I ain't the one tellin' you all this stuff. You're the one moved your stuff into my bunk, you're the one said you wanted it all like this." "Kaylee..." She stopped him with a glare, her face screwing up on itself and he knew she was close to tears. "Go, Jayne! Just go out, find yourself a whore just to prove you ain't whipped, I don't care!" "What the hell?" He couldn't help it, couldn't help rising to the bait. "What's the matter with you, woman? You been actin' weird all week." She turned away from him and he tried to put his arm around her shoulders, but she twisted away from him, going to the other end of the bunk and began rifling through another of the boxes she'd packed up to take out. Jayne stood there, breathing, trying to figure out what had just happened. "I don't know what the gorram hell you been drinkin'." He said finally, watching her as she picked up a small square screen and frowned at it instead of tossing it to the side like she'd done with everything else. "But I don't wanna go out and find no whore. I don't wanna go out drinkin' if I can't go out on the arm of the prettiest woman I know." A pause, she didn't look back at him. "That's you, by the way." There, her shoulders hunched a little and he knew she'd tried to stop herself laughing. "This is how I want it, nobody but you an' me, here like this. I ain't ever gonna have it as good as I have it with you. So stop all this foolish worryin' about me an' what I want." "Jayne?" Her fingers trailed on the screen as it lit up. "When did we find that reaver attack on Kerry?" "What? Couple months back." He didn't even stop to think about her question. "Maybe I got turned around, listenin' to everybody else, but I think you got some wrong ideas, too. Bein' with you, Kaylee, it ain't no chore. I don't want it to end." "Shh, Jayne." She motioned back at him as her voice came out in a whisper. "I'm counting." "Well, ain't that the way?" He could feel it pulse up in him. "Here I am tryin' to tell you what I'm feelin' an' you're over there ignorin' me for some stupid calendar screen that's probably out of date by three years. You hear a word I been sayin'? I ain't goin' anywhere, so you better just get used to me bein' here." "Jayne." Then she did look up at him. "Shut up and come here." It took his breath away. 'Cause Jayne knew every side Kaylee had, he'd seen her lost in a fit of giggles, stony cold in anger, frozen with fear, so excited she could barely keep still, so happy she glowed. He could recognize each and every mood and voice she had. Or so he'd thought. He'd never seen this one. And it scared him to the bone. "What?" He could feel his throat close up as he put his hand around her waist and his chin on her shoulder to look at the screen. "Kaylee, what is it?" *** THE END. *** Epilogue: Occurs approximately six years after prompt 100. HEROES, DRAGONS, QUEENS and BROKEN MIRRORS. She crept along the gangway, staying as silent as she knew how to be, breathing shallow and slow through her slightly open mouth. She'd been trained by the best. Her bare feet slid over the cold metal. If she didn't lift them, there'd be no contact broken, which meant no contact would need to be made to step forward. A few minutes, a few harrowing and stressful minutes and then she'd reach relative safety. Until then, however, she was vulnerable, left out in the open. He reared above her, large and imposing, taking up all the space her eyes had. All was lost. And she'd been so close. "I been lookin' for you." "That's 'cause I've been hiding." She whispered, leaning in close to tell her secret. "Shh. They're monsters all over the Land of Cargo Bay." "Really?" He frowned, reaching out to pull her behind him and looking left to right, his eyes scanning the perilous lands below. "Best you climb on up then." His hand grabbed hers easily, big, rough fingers closing over her tiny little ones. Her feet scrambled for purchase on his thighs as she monkeyed her way up onto his back. Her arms had grown so long she could reach all the way around his neck. "There's safety in Planet Mess." She whispered. He chuckled. "Planet Mess, huh? Let me guess, it's safest to land near the town of Cookie Jar?" "You've read the bulletins, then?" She gasped dramatically, then kicked her feet into his sides as his hands anchored her thighs. "But we have to be quiet. Onwards!" "You're gettin' bossy, babygirl." Jessie grinned as she leaned into his back and gripped his neck, everything about her wrapped around him and she couldn't get enough. She felt his muscles shift as he surveyed the surrounding area. "Jayne!" The beast roared from somewhere below. "These crates aren't gonna load themselves!" "Quick Daddy!" Her grip tightened. "Before it catches us!" "Hold on, babygirl." And they were off, she ducked her head in close, laying her cheek between his shoulder blades, and held tight. With her eyes closed, she could imagine them running through forests and large, rocky mountains. "Don't think I didn't see you two..." "It's chasing us!" She squealed. "Hurry!" "There!" The beast huffed and puffed at the top of the stairs, smoke and fire streaming from its nostrils. "I've found you both! You know the rules, we work before we play." "Aw, he got me." She could feel the whole Universe dipping as he knelt down. "It's too late for me, but you run, go, save yourself." "No!" She cried out, making sure to sound horribly upset for the injustice done a Universe robbed of his bravery. "Daddy, no!" "I'm done for." He groaned as he keeled over, hand held to his chest. "Shuffled off to some slave trading ships where I'm worked to exhaustion..." "You might actually have to work for that to happen, Jayne." She glared at the beast as it reared and growled over the body of her fallen hero. "Vengeance will be mine." She declared. "I will hunt you down in farthest reaches of the 'Verse and curse your soul forever!" "What the gorram hell has she been reading now?" The beast asked. "She does not get her words from books." Jessie postured above the body, ignoring the fact that dead bodies don't shake with laughter. "She gets them from magical Princesses with magical powers." "River!" The beast roared. "What are you filling this child's head with?" "Too much of a coward to face me, hey?" She sneered. "Typical bully beast. Your time is not long for this life. I have..." Scrambling around in her pockets, Jessie found the perfect thing. "This sword!" She crowed, wielding a green pencil. "Face me and die!" The beast growled and turned his angry eyes on her. "You're forcing me into this." It told her, seriously. "You know that, don't you?" "Your threats don't scare me!" And she even managed to keep some of the squeal out of her voice as she began to back up, one step after the other. It was going to get her and, she realized too late, her sword was no match for the beast's cruel, underhanded ways. "No!" She gasped, dropping the pencil and backing away faster. "No, you're not allowed to tickle!" "Stop me!" It roared again, lunging at her, growing nineteen hands and arms that reached across lands to find her. "You're all alone and I eat little girls like you for breakfast." "Ah!" She twisted, trying desperately to escape its clutches as it poked at her sides, the two of them falling into a heap. "No. Stop it! That ain't fair." "Children." The voice sounded above them. "It's the magical Fairy Queen!" She gasped and reached out. "She'll save me!" "I'm a Queen now?" And Jessie swallowed. "Yesterday I was a hideous, ugly witch." "No, you're a Queen." She nodded, helpfully, a big smile on her face. "You're a beautiful, beautiful Queen whose forgiving nature is known throughout existence." "I wouldn't bet on that." The beast huffed and doubled his fiendish tickling efforts. "Help me, Queen 'Nara! Help me!" "Oh, alright then." The Queen held out her hand. "Here, hold on." Jessie panted and tried to recover from the beast's evil ways as she was pulled free. "Thank you, you're very mag.. mang... ma..." The problem with Auntie River was that she had so many big words. Too many big words and sometimes they were hard to remember and even when she did, she wasn't sure if she got the meaning right. Auntie River had confused her more often than not. "You're very nice." "My prey is escaping?" The beast frowned. "Well, fine then. Guess I'll have to go find something else for breakfast. All the food rations should do it. There'll be nothing but green spinach protein for the rest of the week." Jessie spun around, her hands planted firmly on her hip as she glared. "Aw, that ain't fair, Cap'n." It was a word, just a word, but it shattered the game around them. She could feel it in the silence that followed, in the way that the different magical objects drifted away, melted back into the landscape of a ship. In the way that Inara's hand hovered over her hair, but didn't touch it, the way that the figure in front of her was no longer a vicious beast out hunting. He was the ordinary Captain of their ordinary ship. The man lying on the floor wasn't a heroic dragon slayer, saving her from monsters, he was her daddy. And now he was gonna go do as the Captain said and she wouldn't see him for a very long time. Maybe not even until dinner and that was an hour away. At least. "I'm sorry!" She rushed to say it. "I didn't mean it!" "It's okay, sweetie, you didn't do anything." Inara smiled at her, but it wasn't one of her happy smiles that went all the way deep into her eyes. It was one of the fake ones. Then she turned and glared at Mal. Jessie was awful glad she'd never gotten that glare, Auntie Inara could be very scary when she looked like that. Well, never, not really, only that one time. But she hadn't mean to say that to her special guest that time. "Mal, tell the girl she didn't do anything." "'Course not, honeychild." And Mal was smiling, too, but his smiles were always different when he meant them. "You didn't do nothin'." He reached out and ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it. She was so sorry she didn't even pull away and she hated people ruffling her hair. Now they weren't playing. They were saying Nice Things that Grown Ups Said to Little Children. They'd been saying it for a long time and she was beginning to hate that as much as hands in her hair. Not that it mattered, because Mal had turned around and walked away and Auntie Inara followed him. She always did when he got that wounded look in his eye. Jessie was left to kneel down next to her daddy. He'd sat up, leaning his back against the railing, and his eyes watched her. She hated to see his eyes like that, hated it even more because she knew it was her fault. She crawled into the curve of his arm and he gripped her tight. "I'm sorry, daddy." She whispered it into his neck. "It ain't your fault." His big hands brushed through her hair. "Not your fault at all." "I'm trying." She told him earnestly. "I'm trying so hard not to be like..." "Hey, you shoosh now." He had his hands on her shoulders, holding her away from him enough to look into her eyes. "Don't ever let me hear you say that, dong ma?" "But." She frowned. "It makes everyone sad." "No way, babygirl." And his eyes didn't move, so she knew he was telling the truth. He'd never lied to her, not once. "It's a good thing you look an' sound like your Ma. It makes me happy." "Liar." She pouted. "You still cry, when you think there ain't no one looking." "Maybe I do." His hands came up to cradle her face and his thumbs brushed her cheeks just under her eyes. "But there ain't nothin' makes me happier'n you." "Daddy?" Her lip trembled and she whispered words she wasn't supposed to say, hadn't said for months. "I still miss her, sometimes." "Me too, babygirl." A big sigh, heavy and deep, she felt it run through both of them. "Me too." ### The End ###