207. Rare Bird
Rated: PG
Category: Firefly--Gen, Mal, Serenity
Words: 256
Spoilers: None really
Summary: Mal meets Serenity.
Note: Written in response to the LJ prompt of ‘extinct animals’ #207 on
ff_friday.
Disclaimer: Don’t own anything. Quote is from the script for Out of Gas.
Rare Bird
Mal trudges across the dry plain steepled by rusting metal towers, piled with undefinable heaps of scrap. Heat and dust fill his lungs, cloud his breath. Squints up into the hazy blue sky, empty except the single sun straight overhead. Looking for-what? Any movement, sign of life. Something beyond days of scrabbling on the edges, picking up coin through fair means or foul; nights of drinking and fighting in bars with Zoe at his shoulder. Her just as worn down-she shows it less, flashes her smile, but it’s tight around the edges, and there’s stone weariness in her eyes.
Follows the man whose talk won’t quit, pointing out this machine or that, eyes occasionally darting over to try to size him up, this indifferent customer barely seems to have more than the coat on his back. Mal catches the glance, straightens up, tries to look more like a buyer, and less like a man on yet another hopeless mission.
Then, he sees her. Firefly. Put out to pasture, obsolete, near extinct. Like him. But....not. Shine her up, get her running, a crew. Put together some small jobs, flying ‘round the ‘Verse. Get his breath back, in the Black.
Eyes widen, gazing across the field, at the vision glinting dully in the sun. Voice twanging behind him, barely penetrating.
"Tell you what--you buy this ship, treat her proper, she'll be with y’fer the rest of your life."
Huh. Rest of my life. Imagines riding on her back; he feels like he could live forever.
Category: Firefly--Gen, Mal, Serenity
Words: 256
Spoilers: None really
Summary: Mal meets Serenity.
Note: Written in response to the LJ prompt of ‘extinct animals’ #207 on
ff_friday.
Disclaimer: Don’t own anything. Quote is from the script for Out of Gas.
Rare Bird
Mal trudges across the dry plain steepled by rusting metal towers, piled with undefinable heaps of scrap. Heat and dust fill his lungs, cloud his breath. Squints up into the hazy blue sky, empty except the single sun straight overhead. Looking for-what? Any movement, sign of life. Something beyond days of scrabbling on the edges, picking up coin through fair means or foul; nights of drinking and fighting in bars with Zoe at his shoulder. Her just as worn down-she shows it less, flashes her smile, but it’s tight around the edges, and there’s stone weariness in her eyes.
Follows the man whose talk won’t quit, pointing out this machine or that, eyes occasionally darting over to try to size him up, this indifferent customer barely seems to have more than the coat on his back. Mal catches the glance, straightens up, tries to look more like a buyer, and less like a man on yet another hopeless mission.
Then, he sees her. Firefly. Put out to pasture, obsolete, near extinct. Like him. But....not. Shine her up, get her running, a crew. Put together some small jobs, flying ‘round the ‘Verse. Get his breath back, in the Black.
Eyes widen, gazing across the field, at the vision glinting dully in the sun. Voice twanging behind him, barely penetrating.
"Tell you what--you buy this ship, treat her proper, she'll be with y’fer the rest of your life."
Huh. Rest of my life. Imagines riding on her back; he feels like he could live forever.