Firefly Ficlet: Scrape (1/1)
Title: Scrape
Characters: Saffron, Zoe, Mal.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don’t sue. I only come in peace.
Words: 577
Written on a prompt from agent_rouka: Zoe, Saffron, post-movie, and “scrape.” Which seemed like a really good title. *nods*
Her lips feel like sandpaper, and there is blood collecting between her toes. She tells herself it can’t possibly be much longer now.
Zoe’s arm is like a rucksack where it hangs across her shoulder, but her grip is firm. Her other hand presses against the bullet wound in her side.
She’s still alive, then.
If she feels a stir of disappointment, it’s less than she expects.
And so she says: “We’re almost there. Keep moving.” She adds on a damn you in her head.
Zoe grunts in answer, but doesn’t wince. If it was any other day, Saffron might admire that. But trudging blindly through the desert only leaves her capable of feeling vague irritation.
“You were reckless,” she finally spits, and Zoe’s eyes flutter open with half awareness. Good. Good, she’s glad she’s aware. “And believe me, I’ve pulled a lot of reckless jobs in my day. But that takes the cake.”
Zoe’s voice is barely above a whisper. “Why haven’t you left me?”
“If you start getting existential on me, hon, I probably will.”
Zoe’s response is more of a gasping choke than a laugh, but it keeps her moving. “If it’s coin you’re after, you know we ain’t got much.”
It hasn’t even occurred to her, but she figures that’ll do.
“Might come as a surprise to you, but I have a hunch your life is worth scrounging up whatever extra pieces of coin Serenity’s got left.”
They pick up the pace.
***
She takes tiny sips of water, her fingers tracing small circles on her knees. Inside the infirmary, Zoe’s form is barely visible among all the people hovering over her.
So she sits, and she waits, and she takes small sips of water.
Zoe’s breathing on her own when Mal finally emerges from the infirmary. He studies her quietly, and then gets right to the point.
“You could’a left her.”
He looks at her like he gets her, and it makes her feel sick. But what was she expecting? Save Zoe’s life, join his merry crew? Sing songs and hold hands, and, god, it’s enough sugar to make her teeth start to hurt.
She stands, feet still aching, back creaking, lips as chapped as the desert floor. “Did it for the money, Mal, what did you expect?”
There’s a small twitch in his jaw, but he doesn’t react with annoyance like she’s hoping-only looks at her with pity. Pity. She hates that about him.
“How much?” he says, heavily, like he’s resigned.
She says the first number that pops into her head. So it sounds like it’s planned. “Thirty credits.”
Thirty. That’s good. That’ll do. That’ll be enough to get her away.
“Fine,” Mal says. “Have to sound out the crew. Get ‘em all to chip in. And you’ll be wanting transport, I imagine? Don’t think you’ll last overly long on this rock.”
“Persephone will do,” she says. “And Mal? So long as I get my money, I won’t even have to steal anything from you.”
Mal almost smiles. “That is a comfort. Saffron-” He pauses to scratch at his chin, his gaze still strong enough to make her feel twisted inside and out. “Thank you. Didn’t have to bring her back, but you did. Saved her life.”
She looks straight in the eyes. “Just did it for the money, Mal.”
He nods vaguely, and turns to head back into the infirmary. “Don’t have cause to think otherwise.”
Characters: Saffron, Zoe, Mal.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don’t sue. I only come in peace.
Words: 577
Written on a prompt from agent_rouka: Zoe, Saffron, post-movie, and “scrape.” Which seemed like a really good title. *nods*
Her lips feel like sandpaper, and there is blood collecting between her toes. She tells herself it can’t possibly be much longer now.
Zoe’s arm is like a rucksack where it hangs across her shoulder, but her grip is firm. Her other hand presses against the bullet wound in her side.
She’s still alive, then.
If she feels a stir of disappointment, it’s less than she expects.
And so she says: “We’re almost there. Keep moving.” She adds on a damn you in her head.
Zoe grunts in answer, but doesn’t wince. If it was any other day, Saffron might admire that. But trudging blindly through the desert only leaves her capable of feeling vague irritation.
“You were reckless,” she finally spits, and Zoe’s eyes flutter open with half awareness. Good. Good, she’s glad she’s aware. “And believe me, I’ve pulled a lot of reckless jobs in my day. But that takes the cake.”
Zoe’s voice is barely above a whisper. “Why haven’t you left me?”
“If you start getting existential on me, hon, I probably will.”
Zoe’s response is more of a gasping choke than a laugh, but it keeps her moving. “If it’s coin you’re after, you know we ain’t got much.”
It hasn’t even occurred to her, but she figures that’ll do.
“Might come as a surprise to you, but I have a hunch your life is worth scrounging up whatever extra pieces of coin Serenity’s got left.”
They pick up the pace.
***
She takes tiny sips of water, her fingers tracing small circles on her knees. Inside the infirmary, Zoe’s form is barely visible among all the people hovering over her.
So she sits, and she waits, and she takes small sips of water.
Zoe’s breathing on her own when Mal finally emerges from the infirmary. He studies her quietly, and then gets right to the point.
“You could’a left her.”
He looks at her like he gets her, and it makes her feel sick. But what was she expecting? Save Zoe’s life, join his merry crew? Sing songs and hold hands, and, god, it’s enough sugar to make her teeth start to hurt.
She stands, feet still aching, back creaking, lips as chapped as the desert floor. “Did it for the money, Mal, what did you expect?”
There’s a small twitch in his jaw, but he doesn’t react with annoyance like she’s hoping-only looks at her with pity. Pity. She hates that about him.
“How much?” he says, heavily, like he’s resigned.
She says the first number that pops into her head. So it sounds like it’s planned. “Thirty credits.”
Thirty. That’s good. That’ll do. That’ll be enough to get her away.
“Fine,” Mal says. “Have to sound out the crew. Get ‘em all to chip in. And you’ll be wanting transport, I imagine? Don’t think you’ll last overly long on this rock.”
“Persephone will do,” she says. “And Mal? So long as I get my money, I won’t even have to steal anything from you.”
Mal almost smiles. “That is a comfort. Saffron-” He pauses to scratch at his chin, his gaze still strong enough to make her feel twisted inside and out. “Thank you. Didn’t have to bring her back, but you did. Saved her life.”
She looks straight in the eyes. “Just did it for the money, Mal.”
He nods vaguely, and turns to head back into the infirmary. “Don’t have cause to think otherwise.”