Rejoicing Rise (PG) Firefly- Mal
Title: Rejoicing Rise
Rating: PG
Character: Mal
Authors Note: The song used is a spiritual called "Lift Every Voice and Sing," whose full lyrics can be found here, and here's a recording by Women of the Calabash.
Summary: Back before, when Mal was a choir boy
Lift every voice and sing, till earth and Heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise, high as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
“Now you watch after your voice, you here. I didn’t spend ten years teaching you how to sing for you to wreck it. So not too much shoutin’.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“And you better be coming back, ‘cause I been planning solo’s around that lovely tenor of yours for years and I intend to use them.”
“Yes Mrs. Yang.”
“Watch out for Anton as well, we need a few good basses.”
“Course.”
“Good.” He watched her look out over the prairie stretching out before them, eyes stopping on the cow grazing out under the hot sun. “How’s your Momma takin’ you going, Malcolm?”
“She understands why. It just ain’t right what they’re doing. Isn’t fair.”
“All of Shadow is with you boys, you know.”
“We better work hard then.”
“You do that. But stay safe.” The bell from the white clapboard Church behind them announced the beginning of the service, a special one being held the day they all shipped out.
Lifting her hand up to his shoulder, she told him, “I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thanks.” Mal met her eyes with a look solid and calm. “I will too.”
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
“Gorramit.” He whispered, Carrie was down and he was alone, over on the Alliance side and sun was coming up sure quick.
Moving quiet and low, like when approaching a poisonous snake, he drew near the little caves they’d seen earlier. They weren’t very deep, but they’d shield him from the daylight and hopefully the other soldiers. He’d just about settled in when he heard voices.
If they found him they’d take him back to camp, interrogate and torture him, in no particular order, and finally, once he was beggin’ them to, kill him.
He prayed that wouldn’t happen. Prayed so hard that when, for a moment, the murmurings outside stopped, he thought maybe he’d done it aloud. Then soldiers continued talking in a tone just too low to hear.
He couldn’t make a noise, couldn’t get caught, so he stopped and made his mind go blank. Eventually the voices faded away, though he couldn’t have said how long they were there, either.
After a while he started to feel the aching loneliness of the cave and wondered if maybe he could stick his head out, but some small part of his brain reminded him that doing things like that was just asking to be killed, and really, he was too pretty to die. But it was awful quiet and unnerving to be able to hear every breath like that. And he was so very alone.
But not really, not alone, no one is ever really alone. He should be using this time to his benefit, meditating or some such thing. He sure wouldn’t get the kind of quiet back in the trenches.
Finally, the cave cooled down enough to suggest nightfall, and he ducked his head back out into the fresh air, relishing the dark sky. Making his way back across the line to the Independent side he passed real near a camp, but they didn’t see him, not with all the purple-bellies encased in their little tents.
“Corporal, its good to see you made it back. We were worried once it reached morning and you weren’t here. Was the day too bad?” Private Bendis asked, taking the gun from Mal’s hands and handing him a flask of water.
“Nah, it was fine. The quiet gives a man space to think.”
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
“Sarge, I swear, if you don’t stop humming that song…” Zoe threatened from his right side.
“It’s a good song, keeps you moving.”
“Well, it may be that, but you’ve used it so much to keep you moving that that if you continue, I will be moving away from you rather swiftly.”
Mal looked down at the muddy puddles they’d been slogging through for the better part of a day. Any fast movement and you’d be down on your behind.
“Ok Private, I’ll stop, but you have to pick the next one and sing along.”
“Sir.”
“I’ll keep going if you don’t.”
“I’m not going to sing, Sarge.”
“Lift every voice and sing, till earth and…”
“Fine sir.”
Turned out Zoe was a strong alto, and somewhere during the middle of the second drinking song, Mal swore he saw her smile.
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on till victory is won.
“And a toast to the fellows of the third brigade, they may have been late, but boy, they made them suckers feel it.”
“Here, here.”
Mal looked about the revelers, before turning to Zoe, “We did good.”
“Yes sir.”
“Drove the Alliance off the whole planet.”
“Sure did.”
“Lost some good people doing it, but now all of Springfield is clear.”
“It was a good fight, Sarge,” offered Zoe, mid drink. “They weren’t expecting that.”
“No, though they should have been. Its fairly clear that folks here wanted them purple-bellies off planet as soon as possible.”
“Can’t blame ‘em.”
“We keep going like that and we will do it, no matter superior numbers or resources. We have the people.” Mal said infused with the word’s finality and hope. “Hello Private,” he addressed the approaching soldier.
“Sir, you had a wave from headquarters. I brought it over.”
“Thanks Tracey,” Mal said with a nod, opening the printout and glancing down the words quickly. Turning to the woman sitting to his left, he informed her, “Well, Zoe, it does appear that tonight is our last here in Springfield. Seems we’re shipping out tomorrow to do the same as we’ve done on,” he looked down again at the wave, “Hera.”
Rating: PG
Character: Mal
Authors Note: The song used is a spiritual called "Lift Every Voice and Sing," whose full lyrics can be found here, and here's a recording by Women of the Calabash.
Summary: Back before, when Mal was a choir boy
Lift every voice and sing, till earth and Heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise, high as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
“Now you watch after your voice, you here. I didn’t spend ten years teaching you how to sing for you to wreck it. So not too much shoutin’.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“And you better be coming back, ‘cause I been planning solo’s around that lovely tenor of yours for years and I intend to use them.”
“Yes Mrs. Yang.”
“Watch out for Anton as well, we need a few good basses.”
“Course.”
“Good.” He watched her look out over the prairie stretching out before them, eyes stopping on the cow grazing out under the hot sun. “How’s your Momma takin’ you going, Malcolm?”
“She understands why. It just ain’t right what they’re doing. Isn’t fair.”
“All of Shadow is with you boys, you know.”
“We better work hard then.”
“You do that. But stay safe.” The bell from the white clapboard Church behind them announced the beginning of the service, a special one being held the day they all shipped out.
Lifting her hand up to his shoulder, she told him, “I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thanks.” Mal met her eyes with a look solid and calm. “I will too.”
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
“Gorramit.” He whispered, Carrie was down and he was alone, over on the Alliance side and sun was coming up sure quick.
Moving quiet and low, like when approaching a poisonous snake, he drew near the little caves they’d seen earlier. They weren’t very deep, but they’d shield him from the daylight and hopefully the other soldiers. He’d just about settled in when he heard voices.
If they found him they’d take him back to camp, interrogate and torture him, in no particular order, and finally, once he was beggin’ them to, kill him.
He prayed that wouldn’t happen. Prayed so hard that when, for a moment, the murmurings outside stopped, he thought maybe he’d done it aloud. Then soldiers continued talking in a tone just too low to hear.
He couldn’t make a noise, couldn’t get caught, so he stopped and made his mind go blank. Eventually the voices faded away, though he couldn’t have said how long they were there, either.
After a while he started to feel the aching loneliness of the cave and wondered if maybe he could stick his head out, but some small part of his brain reminded him that doing things like that was just asking to be killed, and really, he was too pretty to die. But it was awful quiet and unnerving to be able to hear every breath like that. And he was so very alone.
But not really, not alone, no one is ever really alone. He should be using this time to his benefit, meditating or some such thing. He sure wouldn’t get the kind of quiet back in the trenches.
Finally, the cave cooled down enough to suggest nightfall, and he ducked his head back out into the fresh air, relishing the dark sky. Making his way back across the line to the Independent side he passed real near a camp, but they didn’t see him, not with all the purple-bellies encased in their little tents.
“Corporal, its good to see you made it back. We were worried once it reached morning and you weren’t here. Was the day too bad?” Private Bendis asked, taking the gun from Mal’s hands and handing him a flask of water.
“Nah, it was fine. The quiet gives a man space to think.”
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
“Sarge, I swear, if you don’t stop humming that song…” Zoe threatened from his right side.
“It’s a good song, keeps you moving.”
“Well, it may be that, but you’ve used it so much to keep you moving that that if you continue, I will be moving away from you rather swiftly.”
Mal looked down at the muddy puddles they’d been slogging through for the better part of a day. Any fast movement and you’d be down on your behind.
“Ok Private, I’ll stop, but you have to pick the next one and sing along.”
“Sir.”
“I’ll keep going if you don’t.”
“I’m not going to sing, Sarge.”
“Lift every voice and sing, till earth and…”
“Fine sir.”
Turned out Zoe was a strong alto, and somewhere during the middle of the second drinking song, Mal swore he saw her smile.
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on till victory is won.
“And a toast to the fellows of the third brigade, they may have been late, but boy, they made them suckers feel it.”
“Here, here.”
Mal looked about the revelers, before turning to Zoe, “We did good.”
“Yes sir.”
“Drove the Alliance off the whole planet.”
“Sure did.”
“Lost some good people doing it, but now all of Springfield is clear.”
“It was a good fight, Sarge,” offered Zoe, mid drink. “They weren’t expecting that.”
“No, though they should have been. Its fairly clear that folks here wanted them purple-bellies off planet as soon as possible.”
“Can’t blame ‘em.”
“We keep going like that and we will do it, no matter superior numbers or resources. We have the people.” Mal said infused with the word’s finality and hope. “Hello Private,” he addressed the approaching soldier.
“Sir, you had a wave from headquarters. I brought it over.”
“Thanks Tracey,” Mal said with a nod, opening the printout and glancing down the words quickly. Turning to the woman sitting to his left, he informed her, “Well, Zoe, it does appear that tonight is our last here in Springfield. Seems we’re shipping out tomorrow to do the same as we’ve done on,” he looked down again at the wave, “Hera.”