Het, Jayne/Zoe, Tenuous, Chapter 1
Yes....finally.
Setting: Five (or so) years after the BDM
Rating: ehh it's violent.
Warnings: One of the crew members gets a bad Owie. Angst-ish.
Don't forget to check the Tenuous Organizational Post, for commentary and ideas.
When were they ever gonna learn that all derelicts that looked empty, weren’t. Zoë stared hard at the scruffy man holdin a gun on the three of them. He’d drawn and had em cornered before even Jayne had known he was there-which was something of a rarity to her mind. Worse than that, she frowned, she hadn’t heard him.
With his other hand, Scruffy pulled a comm system from his pocked and spoke into it. “Terry,” he said, “report.”
A man’s voice answered him through the crackling static. “We’re onboard the Firefly, Captain. It’ll be a good haul; they look to be smuggling medicine. There's two or three thousand plat worth, easy.”
“Have you subdued the crew?” Scruffy asked.
There was a long silence on the other end before Terry answered. “…Yes, sir, but Katherine’s been shot.”
“Is it bad?”
“Yes, sir-she’s dead.” Terry answered.
Scruffy growled. “What’s the crew like?” he asked.
Terry could be heard shouting on the other side of the connection. When he came back on, his voice was tense. “Two women. One of them says she’s a companion, and the other seems to be the mechanic. One man, dandified, says he’s their doctor.”
Scruffy stared Mal down. “Well, Captain, your crew killed one of mine. Which of your girls shall I shoot?”
Mal paled, and glanced over at Zoë, who nodded back at him. He smirked, and shook his head. “Can’t let you do that,” he said, “you’ll just have to shoot me.”
Zoë cursed and tried to get in front of Mal but Scruffy was too quick, and Mal hit his head hard as he went down. Zoë bent to check on him, confident that Jayne would draw his gun and the other captain would be dead before he could squeeze his trigger again.
Jayne was stringing together every Chinese curse known to man. “He all right?” he asked her.
Zoë didn’t answer. Mal wasn’t wearing his armor. His blood was pooling below him, seeping out in an ever-widening circle.
Scruffy’s comm crackled. “Captain?” Terry said over and over. “Captain, advise. We heard gunshots.”
There was a rustling noise, and Jayne glanced over at the fallen man to see him lifting the comm to his mouth. The merc tried to cross the room in one step, but he didn’t make it.
The dying man spoke. “I’m spent,” he wheezed. “She’s yours, Terry. Go!”
Jayne pumped three more bullets into the sprawled figure.
Zoë pressed down on Mal’s wound as best she could, and touched the button to activate her own comm. “Serenity,” she said, “Serenity, is anyone there?”
All that came over the speaker was the quiet hiss of radio static. No connection was made.
She looked up at Jayne, dazed. “They’re gone.”
Setting: Five (or so) years after the BDM
Rating: ehh it's violent.
Warnings: One of the crew members gets a bad Owie. Angst-ish.
Don't forget to check the Tenuous Organizational Post, for commentary and ideas.
When were they ever gonna learn that all derelicts that looked empty, weren’t. Zoë stared hard at the scruffy man holdin a gun on the three of them. He’d drawn and had em cornered before even Jayne had known he was there-which was something of a rarity to her mind. Worse than that, she frowned, she hadn’t heard him.
With his other hand, Scruffy pulled a comm system from his pocked and spoke into it. “Terry,” he said, “report.”
A man’s voice answered him through the crackling static. “We’re onboard the Firefly, Captain. It’ll be a good haul; they look to be smuggling medicine. There's two or three thousand plat worth, easy.”
“Have you subdued the crew?” Scruffy asked.
There was a long silence on the other end before Terry answered. “…Yes, sir, but Katherine’s been shot.”
“Is it bad?”
“Yes, sir-she’s dead.” Terry answered.
Scruffy growled. “What’s the crew like?” he asked.
Terry could be heard shouting on the other side of the connection. When he came back on, his voice was tense. “Two women. One of them says she’s a companion, and the other seems to be the mechanic. One man, dandified, says he’s their doctor.”
Scruffy stared Mal down. “Well, Captain, your crew killed one of mine. Which of your girls shall I shoot?”
Mal paled, and glanced over at Zoë, who nodded back at him. He smirked, and shook his head. “Can’t let you do that,” he said, “you’ll just have to shoot me.”
Zoë cursed and tried to get in front of Mal but Scruffy was too quick, and Mal hit his head hard as he went down. Zoë bent to check on him, confident that Jayne would draw his gun and the other captain would be dead before he could squeeze his trigger again.
Jayne was stringing together every Chinese curse known to man. “He all right?” he asked her.
Zoë didn’t answer. Mal wasn’t wearing his armor. His blood was pooling below him, seeping out in an ever-widening circle.
Scruffy’s comm crackled. “Captain?” Terry said over and over. “Captain, advise. We heard gunshots.”
There was a rustling noise, and Jayne glanced over at the fallen man to see him lifting the comm to his mouth. The merc tried to cross the room in one step, but he didn’t make it.
The dying man spoke. “I’m spent,” he wheezed. “She’s yours, Terry. Go!”
Jayne pumped three more bullets into the sprawled figure.
Zoë pressed down on Mal’s wound as best she could, and touched the button to activate her own comm. “Serenity,” she said, “Serenity, is anyone there?”
All that came over the speaker was the quiet hiss of radio static. No connection was made.
She looked up at Jayne, dazed. “They’re gone.”