Theatrical Muse: Write about losing control
Zoe looks at the Cortex screen, closes her eyes, tips her chair back. Expects to fall into arms that aren't there.
He's out there somewhere, soaring, and she's left here with a ship that don't half work and a heart near twice as unfixable as Serenity is getting.
She's tore up plenty, but she'll fly true.
She didn't just mean the ship.
The chair lets meet the deck with a muffled clang, and Zoe stares at the words floating on the screen. Write about losing control. But it's not something she can write about. The words Zoe and losing control just don't come out of anyone's mouth in the same breath. And there's just one moment in her life that she actually fits under the categoy of "losing control." Don't nobody know but her, though.
Her and Jayne, cause he saw it in her eyes clear as day.
--
Reavers.
As far as the eye can see, which isn't very far because if she looks past them she sees Serenity, and inside the ship lies...
She can't think about that right now. She has a job to do.
Load the gun, cock the gun, shoot the gun. Shoot the Reavers. Hold them back, keep them off the others, cover the captain, reveal the secret, destroy the Alliance and isn't this what they've been trying to do all along?
The stench surrounds them, crawling inside her skin and she thinks maybe she'll never be clean. She's reminded of Serenity Valley, the death rattles and the decay, she doesn't want to go back there again. She never really left. She wants to leave now. It's Serenity all over again. They won't stop and the enemy won't stop and soon there will be nothing left but her and...
Nothing left but her. One less husband. Not crowded now.
One.
"Zoe...gorram it!"
Load the gun, cock the gun, shoot the gun.
Shoot the gun, Zoe, because you have nothing left to lose, you're nobody's autumn flower anymore. Your husband is gone and your captain is probably dead and your crew is dying slowly one by one, and it's just you and damned if you can live your life without him.
Two.
Load the gun, cock the gun, shoot the gun.
You are Corporal Zoe Alleyne Washburne and these are your men, this is your Valley. Mal had his and this one belongs to you, so you march in step and you shoot and you can't stop now because the one you're fighting for stopped flying but you can still fly, so you must do it for him.
But you can't steer your heart. You're not the pilot he is.
Was.
Three.
Load the gun.
Four.
Cock the gun.
Five.
Shoot the gun.
Now even the gun has let you down, Zoe, everyone has let you down, Mal's gone and Wash died and they left you here to do this by yourself, and he should be here with you, gorram it! Next to you, loading and cocking and shooting and saving. You were the one who taught him to do that, you taught him how to shoot and he taught you how to let go and you both taught each other how to dance, only now the steps are different because he went forward as you turned and you lost his hands and you lost your heart.
Nothing left to lose but yourself.
Reavers. As far as the eye can see.
And behind that...
Too many Reavers. Which one is carrying your bullet, Zoe?
When you can't run, you crawl, and when you can't shoot, you fight. You fight until you're gone or they're gone, whichever comes first. Keep fighting, keep swinging because nothing matters now, not life or death or anything, and when it's all over and if you're left standing you'll be standing alone, a black, sucking void where there should be red hair and a lopsided grin. You don't care if you live to see them fall because it wasn't just your dream, it was his, too. It was yours together and together you could soar.
Swing, fight, don't be afraid, you'll see him soon...
"Zoe! Get yer ass back on the line!"
Jayne sees it in her eyes, too, clear as day.
She has a job to do.
Zoe Alleyne Washburn
Firefly/Serenity
Word count: 697