First fic of 2009!
HEY FLIST, remember back before December, when I took requests for ficlets and then work was insane and I never got around to doing them? Guess who decided to stop being such a fucking perfectionist and just see what she could come up with in 15 minutes?
Still no promises on any of them, but fifteen minutes is an approachable goal for me, so there's a good chance there will be more forthcoming. Possibly I will take more prompts, even.
Title: Yes, we're tired.
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica/Firefly
Rating: PG
Notes: For tacky_tramp, who requested any kind of BSG/Firefly crossover. Set during BSG's "33" and post-Serenity(-ish; it's an AU for Firefly). Very very slight undertones of Zoe/River, which I have quietly and guiltily shipped pretty much from the beginning, but mostly gen.
Disclaimer: Moore, Whedon, etc.
Words: 449
Summary:
Home was gone, and Serenity was no ways built for this kind of flying. Jumping was one thing, but this--
If he were here, Zoe would breathe deep, and wrap her arms around her husband's neck, crouching down behind him to kiss his cheek. He'd have stubble, like the Captain and Doc and Jayne, none of whom have shaved in days, and no matter how many times she'd've tried to tell him that Kaylee could hit the switch, he'd say that no, Kaylee's working herself to death trying to keep them jumping with the fleet.
But her husband weren't here, which was why River is flying--so much tea in her you'd think her blood was all caffeine by now, but it's hard to tell with the girl anyway--and River didn't complain, brushed her brother off when he tried to talk to her and finally locked him out of the bridge, leaving Zoe and Mal to lean against the wall and sit in the other chair, respectively.
"He can't help," was all she said. "There's too much, I can't get--he can't help. There's a way out, there's some kind of way out, there's got to be, but we can't--who knows--"
Girl shook her head, twitched, hummed a few bars of some song only she could know, and then sank back into silence, watching the clock. The caffeine and the lack of sleep and, oh yes, that whole genocide thing had put a strain on her. She wasn't alone in that, which might prove some comfort to her.
The Cylons appeared again, then, and the order came out over the fleet. They jumped, and they made it again, without Mal even having to give the order to Kaylee.
"We okay, Kaylee?" Mal asked over the comm.
"Shiny," Kaylee said. Her voice suggested they were anything but, but of course Zoe didn't need to be told that.
River was tapping her fingers now, humming a little louder, and Zoe couldn't offer what little comfort she could give her man, even, but she crouched next to River's seat, anyway, and took a hand in her own. River let her, which was as much a surprise as anything.
"It's all right, baby," she said.
It was a lie, of course, and River looked at her and breathed a fraction of a laugh, and whispered a few things none of them could make out even in the closed-off silence of the bridge.
"We're flying," she said finally, shaking her head like she's clearing away the cobwebs.
"Yes," Zoe said, and looked to Mal, to see him nod. "Yes, we are."
They were still flying.
Still no promises on any of them, but fifteen minutes is an approachable goal for me, so there's a good chance there will be more forthcoming. Possibly I will take more prompts, even.
Title: Yes, we're tired.
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica/Firefly
Rating: PG
Notes: For tacky_tramp, who requested any kind of BSG/Firefly crossover. Set during BSG's "33" and post-Serenity(-ish; it's an AU for Firefly). Very very slight undertones of Zoe/River, which I have quietly and guiltily shipped pretty much from the beginning, but mostly gen.
Disclaimer: Moore, Whedon, etc.
Words: 449
Summary:
Home was gone, and Serenity was no ways built for this kind of flying. Jumping was one thing, but this--
If he were here, Zoe would breathe deep, and wrap her arms around her husband's neck, crouching down behind him to kiss his cheek. He'd have stubble, like the Captain and Doc and Jayne, none of whom have shaved in days, and no matter how many times she'd've tried to tell him that Kaylee could hit the switch, he'd say that no, Kaylee's working herself to death trying to keep them jumping with the fleet.
But her husband weren't here, which was why River is flying--so much tea in her you'd think her blood was all caffeine by now, but it's hard to tell with the girl anyway--and River didn't complain, brushed her brother off when he tried to talk to her and finally locked him out of the bridge, leaving Zoe and Mal to lean against the wall and sit in the other chair, respectively.
"He can't help," was all she said. "There's too much, I can't get--he can't help. There's a way out, there's some kind of way out, there's got to be, but we can't--who knows--"
Girl shook her head, twitched, hummed a few bars of some song only she could know, and then sank back into silence, watching the clock. The caffeine and the lack of sleep and, oh yes, that whole genocide thing had put a strain on her. She wasn't alone in that, which might prove some comfort to her.
The Cylons appeared again, then, and the order came out over the fleet. They jumped, and they made it again, without Mal even having to give the order to Kaylee.
"We okay, Kaylee?" Mal asked over the comm.
"Shiny," Kaylee said. Her voice suggested they were anything but, but of course Zoe didn't need to be told that.
River was tapping her fingers now, humming a little louder, and Zoe couldn't offer what little comfort she could give her man, even, but she crouched next to River's seat, anyway, and took a hand in her own. River let her, which was as much a surprise as anything.
"It's all right, baby," she said.
It was a lie, of course, and River looked at her and breathed a fraction of a laugh, and whispered a few things none of them could make out even in the closed-off silence of the bridge.
"We're flying," she said finally, shaking her head like she's clearing away the cobwebs.
"Yes," Zoe said, and looked to Mal, to see him nod. "Yes, we are."
They were still flying.