bits and pieces #1: DCU/Firefly
Sep. 15th, 2007 05:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
holliThis isn't quite a five things, but just imagine that there's a fifth one where Mal's foolish enough to take a job on Gotham, and Inara's idiot rich-boy client gets in everyone's way a lot, and this Selina person who's their contact doesn't seem at all trustworthy, and the gorram Batman is somehow one step ahead of them the whole way through. The End. Also, Bruce flirts with Kaylee.
So that's one of five times Mal Reynolds had to put up with superheroes, and here's some bits of four more:
#2: Roy Harper
"I'm startin' to think we could stand to take on more crew," Mal says, offhandedly.
Zoe frowns, and leans forward over the rickety table they're sitting at, in the far corner of one of Persephone's dingier saloons. "Are you, now." It's not really a question. "What for?"
"Seems like we keep getting into misadventures, of one kind and another." Mal pauses to take in the brawl brewing at the next table; the fellow who served them their drinks is trying to keep a couple of hotheads calm, without any great success. "You and Jayne can more'n hold your own, and I'm no slouch myself in that department. But if we plan to keep gettin' into bigger fights than we can handle, we're gonna need more muscle."
The bartender, a tall, handsome man who's been gamely trying to break up the fight at the next table, glances their way when Mal says that. One of the dumber drunks takes advantage of his distraction, and lunges; the bartender backhands him without even turning around, laying the man out flat.
Zoe thinks about it. Mal's got a point; with Simon and River on board, they do attract more trouble than they used to. But with Simon and River on board, whomever they hire will have to be trustworthy beyond a shadow of a doubt. Or easily intimidated, like Jayne.
"Now, see," says Mal, nodding at the bartender, who's just knocked two more drunks unconscious, "That we could use." The bartender smiles pleasantly at them, and Zoe raises an eyebrow. The man catches her eye and grins wider, scrubbing a hand through his short red hair as he slips back around the bar. Zoe just shakes her head, and shifts her hands so her wedding ring is visible. And her gun, too.
****
Mal hardly has his boots on the next morning when the intercom in his quarters buzzes at him. "Cap'n," says Kaylee, an obnoxiously early riser, and far too cheerful besides, "There's a man here wants to know if you're hirin'. Says he could be useful 'round a ship like this." There's a slight pause. "And Cap'n? I *agree*."
Sighing, Mal clambers up the ladder and heads for the cargo bay. He's passed on his way by Kaylee, who looks positively starry-eyed. "If you don't hire him, I will *never forgive you*," she hisses, before dashing up the stairs in the direction of Inara's shuttle.
With another sigh-- his mornings seem to start that way, more often'n not-- Mal shakes his head, and moves out into the bay proper. The first thing he sees is the bartender from the night before, standing on the ramp. He's carrying a sleeping, dark-haired little girl of no more than five on his hip, her chubby arms wrapped around his neck, and he's got a battered duffel in the other hand. "I hear you're thinking of taking on more crew," the man says. "I'm Roy Harper. This is my daughter, Lian."
****
Kaylee dashes into Inara's room without knocking; she knows Inara's as early a riser as she, and s'not like she'll be embarrassed to be caught dressin' or anything. "Inara, you have got to see the fella that just walked in our door," Kaylee says, not making the slightest effort to keep the excitement from her voice. "Says he's lookin' for work, and do I *ever* I hope the cap'n hires him. Even if his job description is just Sittin' Around and Lookin' Pretty."
Inara smiles calmly at her, that being the only way she ever smiles. "He sounds interesting, Kaylee."
"Interesting, my left foot. You should see his arm muscles!" Kaylee giggles. "I know I sound like a swoony schoolgirl, but he is just absurdly handsome. And he's got his little daughter with him, too, and she looks like a real sweetheart."
Inara raises a perfect eyebrow at that. "A daughter? And he's looking for a job here?"
Kaylee shrugs; she's hardly one to question how other people find their livelihoods, considering how she ended up with hers. "Sometimes folk need to start fresh. You know?"
Inara looks grave all of a sudden. Kaylee recognizes her This Reminds Me Of Something I'm Trying To Forget face, and pilots swiftly away from that conversational black hole. "All I can say is, whatever he's leavin' behind's loss is our gain. And *then* some." And Inara smiles again.
****
Mal goes to see the man's former boss, a man of no great reputation, but he's known him for a while; as terrible as his bar is, his lying is worse, so Mal figures he can believe what he hears about this Harper fella.
"Truth be told, I hate to see him go," the man says, shaking his head. "Bartender and bouncer in one, and that's damn handy. Never did find out where he's from, though-- just arrived on the doorstep one day, couple months back, looking for work. Said he'd been hoping to meet some friends of his on Persephone, but I guess they didn't turn up."
When Mal asks him about that, Roy just shrugs. "I thought they might be looking for me, and I wanted to stay where I'd be likely to be found. But there doesn't seem to be a point, anymore-- I've left messages where they'll find 'em, if they ever do get here, and they'll find me if they can." He looks awful melancholy when he says it, but Mal's well used to people who don't like to talk about their pasts. He doesn't pry.
Well, he does pry, but not about that. "You should know up front, son, there's more'n a few on this boat that fought for Independance. We're not mighty popular, some places, and you might not be either. If you're any great fan of the Alliance--"
A faint, puzzled from appears on Harper's face when Mal talks about the war, as though he doesn't quite know what Mal's talking about. But it vanishes soon as Mal mentions the Alliance, replaced with a scowl. "You don't have to worry about *that*," he says. "I had a couple of run-ins, when I first arrived-- nothing serious, but enough make up my mind. The farther away we get from *that* bunch, the better." As he says it, he looks down at his daughter, still sleeping, now on the kitchen sofa with a ragged quilt spread over her.
Mal thinks he understands.
****
Inara still has clients on Persephone, despite the Atherton debacle; in fact, she suspects a few of them sought her out *because* of that mess. She knew he wasn't a well-liked man, but apparently such sentiments are far more acceptable in the aftermath of his disgrace.
She's chatting with one of them, a judge, over tea, when he mentions a rash of strange crimes that have been taking place over the last several months. "Well, not crimes, exactly," he amends, patting his beard free of crumbs. "More apprehension of criminals. Vigilante justice, if you can believe it-- in this day and age! But I'll admit, whoever it was, he was damned good at."
"My goodness," says Inara. "It sounds like something one would find in myths, or old holos. What sorts of things did he do?"
"Well," says the judge, "mostly we found criminals tied up, or pinned to walls, with a note attached detailing their offenses. Most of them were surprisingly to eager to confess-- though the particulars, of course, can hardly be mentioned in polite society." The judge sighs, sounding surprisingly wistful. "He seems to have given it up, though. The last month or so, there've been fewer and fewer sightings, and now he's disappeared entirely. Devilish strange, I must say. A man in a mask, hunting down criminals with a bow and arrow." He takes another sip of tea, and shakes his head at the vagaries of the justice system.
Inara's had a classical education, which makes the story doubly intriguing. Mystery men, costumed vigilantes-- they're relics of Earth-That-Was, and no-one knows if they were fact or fiction. Whoever Persephone's masked man might be, she imagines him quite an interesting individual.
****
Before Mal hires him, there's one thing he's got to know about Harper. It's a delicate subject to raise, but he doesn't see much choice; he'll have to trust the man with his life, sooner or later, and the lives of his crew. He's got to be as sure as possible about Harper's loyalties, his instincts and his abilities before he lets him sail with his crew.
Therefore, Mal fetches Zoe to grill their prospective employee, he himself being a notoriously poor judge of character. Well, notorious among his crew, what with Saffron, and Tracey, and punching Simon that one time. Two times. Though, really, the first one was more of a misunderstanding than anything else.
Anyway, Zoe interrogates Harper from across the kitchen table, firing off questions. How is he with a gun? A knife? Can he fight? How much experience does he have? Roy takes them all calmly, settling back in his chair and offering easy answers. He's curiously evasive, though: somehow, he manages to answer her questions in full without giving up much in the way of personal details. When Zoe nods over at the daughter, now occupying herself with colored pencils and a battered notebook, she asks "What about her mother? She's not gonna come after you, looking for her little girl, is she?" Roy snorts.
"That's, uh, really not going to be a problem." He shakes his head. "She's been out of the picture for a long time. And even if there *were* a way for her to find us, I doubt she'd be bothered to take it."
From her seat in the corner, Lian pipes up. "She's not a nice lady." It's the first time Mal's heard her speak; he turns, surprised, and she offers him a sweet smile before returning to her careful scribbles.
"What she said." Roy grins ruefully at them both. "Look, I know what you're getting at here, okay? From what I hear, you're smugglers, and you don't want me ratting you out the first time we land somewhere. And that's not a problem, because from what I know you don't run guns or drugs or human cargo, and anything less than that I've got no problem with." He crosses his arms over his chest, and for the first time Mal notices the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. He doesn't recognize the symbols at all. "I asked around before I came here, Captain Reynolds. You fly under the radar, and that's where I'd rather be, if I had my pick. And I think I could do good work for you."
#3: The Titans
River's browsing newsfeeds off the cortex one night at dinner when she goes absolutely stock-still, her fork hovering halfway to her mouth. She stays that way for a full minute, long enough for everyone at the table to notice, and she only moves a bare half-second after Simon reaches for her, an instant before he touches her arm.
She sets the reader down carefully, places her fork at a precise angle on her plate, and steps back from the table. "They opened a door," she says, and turns on her heel. As she leaves, she says. "I've got to get things tidy, before company calls."
Everyone stays quiet for a long moment after that, unsure of what to say. Only Jayne continues to vaccum down his food, but that's hardly surprising. Finally, Mal says, "Well, I'll take polite and crazy over the rude kind any day," and the dinner conversation starts again.
While he's clearing the table, Simon picks up the abandoned reader. The last item River called up is still displayed: it's about an accident at a high-energy physics lab on Sihnon. Half the terminology is beyond him, and the article dances around the fact that the explosion took out a city block. There's a quote from a nearby resident about how it lit up the night sky, and hardly made a sound.
****
On Persephone, a month later, Mal tells Kaylee to advertise for passengers again. "Because it went so well last time," Wash says, before shooting a guilty glance Simon's way. "Not that part, I mean. Just, the shooting and so on." Zoe just purses her lips.
"We do tend to attract excitement," Simon agrees, "but it's all right. We need the fares, and it's not a long trip to Boros."
"And this time, we'll check first to make sure none of 'em are Feds," Kaylee says brightly. "Right, Cap'n?"
"There'll be a rigorous screening process, with interrogation and tough questions of all sorts," Mal assures them. "And we'll try to take on someone scrawny-lookin', who won't last long in a fight. Maybe bad eyes as well."
In the end, their passengers are a passel of kids, not a one of whom looks older than eighteen. Three boys and two girls, all of them wearing dusty, travel-worn clothes and being evasive when asked simple ruttin' questions. Mal sighs, and scrubs a weary hand over his face. "Look, I don't give a good gorram about what you're runnin' from, but I don't much want to get caught up to by angry parents halfway throught the trip, all right? Your money's good, so I'm gonna expect you to tell me now if there's any excitement following you."
The kids exchange a series of unreadable glances. The blond girl shakes her head. Mal caught their names in passing, but he can't remember which boy is Tim or Kon or Bart, though he's pretty sure the little dark-haired girl is Raven and this one is Cassie. "I'm the only one with a parent to look for me," she says. "And... Captain Reynolds, honestly, I wish she *could* find me."
Mal lets them stay.
****
"We need your spare shuttle for an hour or so," says the shorter dark-haired boy. Zoe hasn't got their names straight yet.
Wash pipes up from behind her, already set to leave. "Which is why I'll be joining you," he says, "since you don't know how to fly it and we'd all rather you not disappear with the thing." He smiles at them and rubs his hands together, and the boys scowl. "So, what're we picking up?" For the umpteenth time, Zoe finds herself overcome with exasperated affection.
"Just some boxes," says the taller boy. "And Tim can fly it, he's already gotten really good--"
"Kon," says Tim. "I don't think that'll convince them."
"You're very perceptive," Zoe says solemnly, and Wash, who can tell when she's making a joke, smiles and leans in to kiss her.
"It's all right," says the blond girl-- Cassie, was it? --who seems to be their de facto leader. "Tim, you and Kon go along, to help load up. I'll stay here with Bart, and Raven--" She turns to the other girl, who's found the nearest shadow in the cargo bay with room to lurk in. Zoe thinks she's more than a little creepy, honestly, but they're all just kids, and the captain's intuition isn't *that* bad.
Well, there had been the Fed. And mistaking Simon *for* the Fed. And Saffron. Twice. But other than that.
"Can you run an errand, before we go? You'll be there and back before the shuttle even leaves."
She draws the other girl aside, and the noise of the docks, echoing up the still-open ramp and into the empty bay, obscures most of what she says. Zoe catches a "tell Kory to" and a "box should be," but that's all.
#4: Titans AGAIN
They get the first hint that they're not where they should be when, right after they fall out of the portal, a spaceship streaks by overhead. Seconds later, a bunch of guys on horseback thunder past the outcropping of dusty rock they got spat out on, and it's really only luck that they don't notice the superheroes right behind them. Nobody speaks for a good minute after that.
"We're probably going to, you know, stand out," Kon says, finally, even though all of them have been thinking it.
Tim just kind of sighs and starts to peel off his mask, and Cassie scowls and says that she's not taking off her bracelets, and Bart puts his costume back in his ring so he and Kon can see about getting some normal clothes for everyone.
It turns out that the nearest town is pretty far away-- like, *miles* from where the portal dumped them, and while they're looking for a place that has clothes, a slender crescent of moon rises into the sky. And then another moon, just-past-half-full ("gibbous," Bart supplies, helpfully), this one smaller and sort of purple. Seeing it confirms Kon's suspicions. Not in Kansas anymore, for sure, and somehow that's an awful lot of a relief, even though space *and* time are a lot tougher than just time, or alternate dimensions or whatever. At least they probably won't run into their crazy mirror universe doubles. Probably.
Kon and Bart trade their jeans to the oddly delighted proprietor of the town's dusty secondhand shop, who's willing to give them four full sets of worn, neatly mended clothes in exchange, even helping Kon rifle through the piles of shirts for a red button-down in Tim's size. The guy offers another pair of boots and a tangled handful of suspenders for Kon's t-shirt, but Kon declines, politely, and helps the guy wrap their clothes up in brown paper. Once the shopkeeper finishes doing something complicated with twine, resulting in handles, they walk out the door of the shop, and into, apparently, the OK Corral.
The guy getting held up by a couple of low-rent, sack-carrying extras from Gunsmoke looks sort of bored and pissed off about it. "Now, look here. There's no need to be getting all ornery about a little misunderstanding, especially not with all these bystanders, you know, standing by. You boys might want to get out of here," he says, speaking to Kon and Bart without looking away from the thugs with the guns, "because these fellas don't seem too concerned with who they ought to be shooting, which, I should mention, is *not me*." This last is directed back at the thugs, who only scowl.
"Thanks," says Kon, who's getting kind of tired of Crazy Western Universe. "You want some help with those guys?"
"Be mighty kind of you," he says, "But it's not your fight, so don't feel obligated."
"Like we're lettin' em walk off, after they seen us with the loot," says gun-toting thug #1. He has really bad teeth. "Anyway, they might have somethin' of value."
"In that case," the man says to Kon, "please. Feel obligated."
Kon sighs, and punches thug #1 in the head. Thug #2 takes a step forward and falls on his face, because his shoelaces are tied together-- thank you, Bart, Kon thinks-- and Former Muggee kicks him in the ribs and takes his sack. "Well," he says, sounding faintly impressed, "that was easier than I was expecting. You boys from around here?"
"Just passing through," says Bart, who seems to have picked up a drawl from somewhere. "Actually, we're lookin' for a ride off this rock. You know anyone with a ship?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," says the man. "Name's Malcolm Reynolds. Captain. You boys traveling alone? Mighty dangerous, couple of kids your age."
"We can take care of ourselves," Kon says, and hi, didn't he just punch a guy in the head? A guy who is, in fact, still unconscious, although Thug #2 has dragged him away by this point. "Anyway, there's four of us. We were just going to get the others when you got held up at gunpoint. Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?"
"More than I care to admit," says Captain Reynolds. "You got coin? You did me a good turn, but it takes more than a turn to book passage for four."
Before Kon can say anything that will make it obvious that they're from, possibly, another universe, the past, or both, Bart says, "We got some stuff to trade, and me 'n' Tim're good with mechanical things. And Kon, here, and his girl Cassie, they fight well enough you won't need any more good turns."
"Well," says Reynolds, "we could reach an understanding. Let me talk to my crew. Come meet us at the docks in a hour or so-- ship's called Serenity. You can't miss it, it's the only one can break atmo on this go se planet." He turns and strides off, his brown coat swirling kind of impressively, and Kon notices he's now got both the sacks the thugs were carrying. Which, he suspects, might have more to do with the man's charitable mood than any skills the Titans can bring to the table. Bart squints after him, his new hat shading his eyes. He looks weirdly comfortable in the old-timey clothes.
"Uh, Bart?" Kon says. "When did you turn into John Wayne? It's a little weird, is all."
"Oh!" Bart looks surprised. "Sorry. I've been here like a month in subjective time-- I found a computer terminal while you were wrapping up the clothes, and I did a bunch of reading."
He keeps explaining while Kon scoops him up and flies them back to Tim and Cassie. "We're definitely in an alternate universe. It's the future, people have colonized a bunch of planets and abandoned Earth, and there's no aliens. It looks like this Reynolds guy might've fought in the big civil war they had here a few years back, on the losing side. Since the government seems kind of potentially evil, I think flying under the radar with him might be a good idea while we figure out how to get home."
Bart repeats this for the benefit of Tim and Cassie, plus explaining how they managed to get into a fight on a planet composed mostly of dirt and idiots, and Tim and Cassie get changed into the less-conspicuous clothes. All the stuff they can't keep wearing or conceal on their persons-- Tim does an amazing job with the contents of his utility belt, considering how few pockets his new clothes have-- they wrap up in Tim's cape.
"It's gonna look weird that we have no luggage," Cassie says, a little dubious.
"Just be glad we don't have Gar or Kory or anyone with us," says Tim. Kon doesn't know about that-- he wouldn't mind having Kory along *anywhere*. "These people haven't made contact with non-human species; they probably don't even have metas. The four of us at least *look* inconspicuous."
"Whatever, Wonder Boy," Kon says. "If you wouldn't mind seeing Kory all dressed up in cowgirl gear, the Bat really *has* replaced you with a robot." Tim scowls, and Cassie cuffs the back of his head, not lightly. "Ow."
#5: oh, god, I don't even know anymore
"I can't believe we're really *going*," Kaylee said, wide-eyed, gazing out the front viewports like she could see the planet from here. "I mean, y'hear stories, but it's off all the trade routes and the people're all such homebodies, so you hardly never meet anyone who's *from* there." She made a high-pitched, excited sort of giggling noise; Mal didn't think he could duplicate it without being a girl Kaylee's age. "We're goin' to Keystone!"
"Now, don't get too excited," said Wash, rocking back in his chair. "I've heard the stories, too, and I'm sure it's all exaggeration and-- oh, who'm I kidding?" As it turned out, you didn't have to be a girl to make that noise. "We're goin' to Keystone!"
Mal rolled his eyes, and if he believed in that sort of thing he'd've muttered a brief prayer for the patience he'd need to put up with his crew until they made landfall. As it was, he just muttered.
****
"Everyone ready?" Mal looked over his crew-- well, crew except for Wash, who was busy landing the ship. Everyone else was in the cargo bay, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Even Jayne, which was a sight to see.
"Now, Sir Harrow said the folks we're to meet will be waiting at the docks for us, so once they get their cargo I don't see why you can't take the day in the city." Kaylee looked like she was gonna make that noise again. "Just remember-- keep your noses clean, 'cause the locals don't take kindly to miscreants."
Seeing as how they were miscreants to a man, Mal'd been reluctant at first to take the job. But it was so legitimate it squeaked, and Warrick had said there weren't many crews he'd trust with it. And the money was good, of course, which was what mattered most of all.
"All right, kids," said Wash over the intercom, "Landing in ten on the infamous little planet they call Keystone." He sounded thrilled beyond all reason. But so did everyone else, pretty much, ever since Mal told them about their destination. Even Zoe, who usually had better sense, and Jayne, who didn't have enough.
They landed smooth as could be, with hardly even the usual thump that accompanied the switch to a planet's own gravity. Wash came clattering down the stairs a scant few seconds later, and fetched up next to Zoe, who just looked tolerant and amused while he beamed at her. As the bay doors creaked and ground their way open, Kaylee started bouncing up and down on her toes, and grabbed River's hand. Simon straightened his tie, and Jayne appeared to be making last-minute adjustments to his hairstyle.
Their first look at Keystone was right pretty, Mal had to admit. Not half so sterile as a Core world, but nearly as clean and well-kept; the people looked fed and happy, and the buildngs were handsome, even here by the docks. Nothing out of the ordinary: just a busy, prosperous planet halfway 'twixt Core and Rim, without the hints of seediness you'd usually see in a place without the Alliance crawling all over it.
Then a man in green long johns and a bright yellow cape dropped out of the sky, landing nimbly on the cargo bay ramp. "You must be Captain Reynolds," he said to Mal. He was wearing a little green mask, the same color as his costume. "I'm the Emerald Eagle. Welcome to Keystone."
Kaylee made that noise again.
****
Folks weren't rightly sure of how or when Keystone acquired its population of super-powered humans. Some thought it might go back all the way to Earth-That-Was, that there'd been those who'd hidden their abilities, settled together on a likely-looking planet, and made it their own over the centuries. Others theorized about something in the air or water, some flaw in the terraforming that changed Keystone's settlers, gave them gifts beyond the scope of ordinary men. Some-- and Mal counted himself as one of them-- thought that Keystone was just plain weird, and didn't think of it much beyond that.
Whatever was behind it, the result was a whole planet where no one though it the least bit odd to see people in costumes and capes, flying over the cities and fighting crime. Keystone's people were notoriously mistrustful of outsiders, as unlikely to emigrate as to encourage immigrants, and the planet had mostly stayed neutral in the war. There had been no regiments from Keystone on either side, and once the fighting stopped the Alliance had installed a small governing force and mostly left it alone.
Mal figured that having an unknown number of citizens strong enough to pick up buildings and throw 'em might've had something to do with that, but then, his reputation for cynicism was not unearned.
No matter the cause, the result was that Keystone, for the most part, left the rest of the 'verse alone. It was largely self-sufficient, with no major export industries; hardly any ships had reason to go there, and fewer still brought cargo. Mal hadn't asked Warrick Harrow any specifics about what he was carrying; the man wanted discreet and Mal gave it, so the shipping manifest said "textiles" and left it at that.
But now that a lantern-jawed man with his drawers on the outside was smiling benevolently at his crew, Mal was getting a mite suspicious. "You're our contact?" Mal said, trying not to let too much of his incredulity show. "Sir Harrow didn't mention--"
"Oh, I suppose he wouldn't," said the Eagle. "Good man, but a bit paranoid about these things, wouldn't you say?" Mal supposed that being able to fly might make a body less paranoid, but he couldn't for the life of him see *how*.
"You might say that," he said. "But I do wish he'd mentioned *something.*"
The Eagle frowned, brows beetling as though he'd come up against a knotty problem. "You don't mind, do you? Only I know some people are uneasy, when they're not from here and all they've heard are rumors--"
"We don't mind!" Kaylee said. She *had* been trying to control herself, without much success, and Mal had spent the last few minutes watching her bounce up and down and exchange thrilled looks with Wash, out of the corner of his eye. "Cap'n's just bein' cranky. We don't mind at *all*."
Mal allowed himself a wry expression. "As you can see, my main problem seems to be keeping my crew from expiring out of sheer delight," he said. "Any more of you folks show up, I don't know if they're going to last the trip."
"Well, that might be a bit of a problem, you see," said the Emerald Eagle, "because--"
He was cut off by what looked to be a small, extremely localized dust devil, that zipped up out of nowhere and deposited a teenaged girl on his ramp. She looked eighteen or nineteen, older than River but younger than Kaylee, and was wearing a purple-and-pink costume. Her short dark hair was held back with a headband, and she seemed to be suffering from a bad case of the jitters. "Isthistheship?" she said, so fast it was hard to pick out the individual words. "BecausemomsaidtheshipwascomingtodayandDartsaidIcouldgoaheadandcheck--"
"Whoa!" said the Eagle. "Hold up a minute, Dash. This is the ship, but you need to slow down for a minute."
She rolled her eyes at him, a pitch-perfect match for River in one of her brattier flashes of sanity. "O-*kay*," she said. "Slowing down. I *can* do that, you know."
At that precise moment, another dust devil whipped up. This time it left an identical girl, except for her long hair, tied back in a braid, and the reversed colors on her costume. "Isthistheship?" she said. Kaylee and Wash *both* made the noise, this time.
Mal thought he recognized the long-suffering expression on the Eagle's face. Suddenly, the man seemed a lot less unsettling to him, even if he did wear much, much tighter pants than a fellow his age should be expected to.
So that's one of five times Mal Reynolds had to put up with superheroes, and here's some bits of four more:
#2: Roy Harper
"I'm startin' to think we could stand to take on more crew," Mal says, offhandedly.
Zoe frowns, and leans forward over the rickety table they're sitting at, in the far corner of one of Persephone's dingier saloons. "Are you, now." It's not really a question. "What for?"
"Seems like we keep getting into misadventures, of one kind and another." Mal pauses to take in the brawl brewing at the next table; the fellow who served them their drinks is trying to keep a couple of hotheads calm, without any great success. "You and Jayne can more'n hold your own, and I'm no slouch myself in that department. But if we plan to keep gettin' into bigger fights than we can handle, we're gonna need more muscle."
The bartender, a tall, handsome man who's been gamely trying to break up the fight at the next table, glances their way when Mal says that. One of the dumber drunks takes advantage of his distraction, and lunges; the bartender backhands him without even turning around, laying the man out flat.
Zoe thinks about it. Mal's got a point; with Simon and River on board, they do attract more trouble than they used to. But with Simon and River on board, whomever they hire will have to be trustworthy beyond a shadow of a doubt. Or easily intimidated, like Jayne.
"Now, see," says Mal, nodding at the bartender, who's just knocked two more drunks unconscious, "That we could use." The bartender smiles pleasantly at them, and Zoe raises an eyebrow. The man catches her eye and grins wider, scrubbing a hand through his short red hair as he slips back around the bar. Zoe just shakes her head, and shifts her hands so her wedding ring is visible. And her gun, too.
****
Mal hardly has his boots on the next morning when the intercom in his quarters buzzes at him. "Cap'n," says Kaylee, an obnoxiously early riser, and far too cheerful besides, "There's a man here wants to know if you're hirin'. Says he could be useful 'round a ship like this." There's a slight pause. "And Cap'n? I *agree*."
Sighing, Mal clambers up the ladder and heads for the cargo bay. He's passed on his way by Kaylee, who looks positively starry-eyed. "If you don't hire him, I will *never forgive you*," she hisses, before dashing up the stairs in the direction of Inara's shuttle.
With another sigh-- his mornings seem to start that way, more often'n not-- Mal shakes his head, and moves out into the bay proper. The first thing he sees is the bartender from the night before, standing on the ramp. He's carrying a sleeping, dark-haired little girl of no more than five on his hip, her chubby arms wrapped around his neck, and he's got a battered duffel in the other hand. "I hear you're thinking of taking on more crew," the man says. "I'm Roy Harper. This is my daughter, Lian."
****
Kaylee dashes into Inara's room without knocking; she knows Inara's as early a riser as she, and s'not like she'll be embarrassed to be caught dressin' or anything. "Inara, you have got to see the fella that just walked in our door," Kaylee says, not making the slightest effort to keep the excitement from her voice. "Says he's lookin' for work, and do I *ever* I hope the cap'n hires him. Even if his job description is just Sittin' Around and Lookin' Pretty."
Inara smiles calmly at her, that being the only way she ever smiles. "He sounds interesting, Kaylee."
"Interesting, my left foot. You should see his arm muscles!" Kaylee giggles. "I know I sound like a swoony schoolgirl, but he is just absurdly handsome. And he's got his little daughter with him, too, and she looks like a real sweetheart."
Inara raises a perfect eyebrow at that. "A daughter? And he's looking for a job here?"
Kaylee shrugs; she's hardly one to question how other people find their livelihoods, considering how she ended up with hers. "Sometimes folk need to start fresh. You know?"
Inara looks grave all of a sudden. Kaylee recognizes her This Reminds Me Of Something I'm Trying To Forget face, and pilots swiftly away from that conversational black hole. "All I can say is, whatever he's leavin' behind's loss is our gain. And *then* some." And Inara smiles again.
****
Mal goes to see the man's former boss, a man of no great reputation, but he's known him for a while; as terrible as his bar is, his lying is worse, so Mal figures he can believe what he hears about this Harper fella.
"Truth be told, I hate to see him go," the man says, shaking his head. "Bartender and bouncer in one, and that's damn handy. Never did find out where he's from, though-- just arrived on the doorstep one day, couple months back, looking for work. Said he'd been hoping to meet some friends of his on Persephone, but I guess they didn't turn up."
When Mal asks him about that, Roy just shrugs. "I thought they might be looking for me, and I wanted to stay where I'd be likely to be found. But there doesn't seem to be a point, anymore-- I've left messages where they'll find 'em, if they ever do get here, and they'll find me if they can." He looks awful melancholy when he says it, but Mal's well used to people who don't like to talk about their pasts. He doesn't pry.
Well, he does pry, but not about that. "You should know up front, son, there's more'n a few on this boat that fought for Independance. We're not mighty popular, some places, and you might not be either. If you're any great fan of the Alliance--"
A faint, puzzled from appears on Harper's face when Mal talks about the war, as though he doesn't quite know what Mal's talking about. But it vanishes soon as Mal mentions the Alliance, replaced with a scowl. "You don't have to worry about *that*," he says. "I had a couple of run-ins, when I first arrived-- nothing serious, but enough make up my mind. The farther away we get from *that* bunch, the better." As he says it, he looks down at his daughter, still sleeping, now on the kitchen sofa with a ragged quilt spread over her.
Mal thinks he understands.
****
Inara still has clients on Persephone, despite the Atherton debacle; in fact, she suspects a few of them sought her out *because* of that mess. She knew he wasn't a well-liked man, but apparently such sentiments are far more acceptable in the aftermath of his disgrace.
She's chatting with one of them, a judge, over tea, when he mentions a rash of strange crimes that have been taking place over the last several months. "Well, not crimes, exactly," he amends, patting his beard free of crumbs. "More apprehension of criminals. Vigilante justice, if you can believe it-- in this day and age! But I'll admit, whoever it was, he was damned good at."
"My goodness," says Inara. "It sounds like something one would find in myths, or old holos. What sorts of things did he do?"
"Well," says the judge, "mostly we found criminals tied up, or pinned to walls, with a note attached detailing their offenses. Most of them were surprisingly to eager to confess-- though the particulars, of course, can hardly be mentioned in polite society." The judge sighs, sounding surprisingly wistful. "He seems to have given it up, though. The last month or so, there've been fewer and fewer sightings, and now he's disappeared entirely. Devilish strange, I must say. A man in a mask, hunting down criminals with a bow and arrow." He takes another sip of tea, and shakes his head at the vagaries of the justice system.
Inara's had a classical education, which makes the story doubly intriguing. Mystery men, costumed vigilantes-- they're relics of Earth-That-Was, and no-one knows if they were fact or fiction. Whoever Persephone's masked man might be, she imagines him quite an interesting individual.
****
Before Mal hires him, there's one thing he's got to know about Harper. It's a delicate subject to raise, but he doesn't see much choice; he'll have to trust the man with his life, sooner or later, and the lives of his crew. He's got to be as sure as possible about Harper's loyalties, his instincts and his abilities before he lets him sail with his crew.
Therefore, Mal fetches Zoe to grill their prospective employee, he himself being a notoriously poor judge of character. Well, notorious among his crew, what with Saffron, and Tracey, and punching Simon that one time. Two times. Though, really, the first one was more of a misunderstanding than anything else.
Anyway, Zoe interrogates Harper from across the kitchen table, firing off questions. How is he with a gun? A knife? Can he fight? How much experience does he have? Roy takes them all calmly, settling back in his chair and offering easy answers. He's curiously evasive, though: somehow, he manages to answer her questions in full without giving up much in the way of personal details. When Zoe nods over at the daughter, now occupying herself with colored pencils and a battered notebook, she asks "What about her mother? She's not gonna come after you, looking for her little girl, is she?" Roy snorts.
"That's, uh, really not going to be a problem." He shakes his head. "She's been out of the picture for a long time. And even if there *were* a way for her to find us, I doubt she'd be bothered to take it."
From her seat in the corner, Lian pipes up. "She's not a nice lady." It's the first time Mal's heard her speak; he turns, surprised, and she offers him a sweet smile before returning to her careful scribbles.
"What she said." Roy grins ruefully at them both. "Look, I know what you're getting at here, okay? From what I hear, you're smugglers, and you don't want me ratting you out the first time we land somewhere. And that's not a problem, because from what I know you don't run guns or drugs or human cargo, and anything less than that I've got no problem with." He crosses his arms over his chest, and for the first time Mal notices the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. He doesn't recognize the symbols at all. "I asked around before I came here, Captain Reynolds. You fly under the radar, and that's where I'd rather be, if I had my pick. And I think I could do good work for you."
#3: The Titans
River's browsing newsfeeds off the cortex one night at dinner when she goes absolutely stock-still, her fork hovering halfway to her mouth. She stays that way for a full minute, long enough for everyone at the table to notice, and she only moves a bare half-second after Simon reaches for her, an instant before he touches her arm.
She sets the reader down carefully, places her fork at a precise angle on her plate, and steps back from the table. "They opened a door," she says, and turns on her heel. As she leaves, she says. "I've got to get things tidy, before company calls."
Everyone stays quiet for a long moment after that, unsure of what to say. Only Jayne continues to vaccum down his food, but that's hardly surprising. Finally, Mal says, "Well, I'll take polite and crazy over the rude kind any day," and the dinner conversation starts again.
While he's clearing the table, Simon picks up the abandoned reader. The last item River called up is still displayed: it's about an accident at a high-energy physics lab on Sihnon. Half the terminology is beyond him, and the article dances around the fact that the explosion took out a city block. There's a quote from a nearby resident about how it lit up the night sky, and hardly made a sound.
****
On Persephone, a month later, Mal tells Kaylee to advertise for passengers again. "Because it went so well last time," Wash says, before shooting a guilty glance Simon's way. "Not that part, I mean. Just, the shooting and so on." Zoe just purses her lips.
"We do tend to attract excitement," Simon agrees, "but it's all right. We need the fares, and it's not a long trip to Boros."
"And this time, we'll check first to make sure none of 'em are Feds," Kaylee says brightly. "Right, Cap'n?"
"There'll be a rigorous screening process, with interrogation and tough questions of all sorts," Mal assures them. "And we'll try to take on someone scrawny-lookin', who won't last long in a fight. Maybe bad eyes as well."
In the end, their passengers are a passel of kids, not a one of whom looks older than eighteen. Three boys and two girls, all of them wearing dusty, travel-worn clothes and being evasive when asked simple ruttin' questions. Mal sighs, and scrubs a weary hand over his face. "Look, I don't give a good gorram about what you're runnin' from, but I don't much want to get caught up to by angry parents halfway throught the trip, all right? Your money's good, so I'm gonna expect you to tell me now if there's any excitement following you."
The kids exchange a series of unreadable glances. The blond girl shakes her head. Mal caught their names in passing, but he can't remember which boy is Tim or Kon or Bart, though he's pretty sure the little dark-haired girl is Raven and this one is Cassie. "I'm the only one with a parent to look for me," she says. "And... Captain Reynolds, honestly, I wish she *could* find me."
Mal lets them stay.
****
"We need your spare shuttle for an hour or so," says the shorter dark-haired boy. Zoe hasn't got their names straight yet.
Wash pipes up from behind her, already set to leave. "Which is why I'll be joining you," he says, "since you don't know how to fly it and we'd all rather you not disappear with the thing." He smiles at them and rubs his hands together, and the boys scowl. "So, what're we picking up?" For the umpteenth time, Zoe finds herself overcome with exasperated affection.
"Just some boxes," says the taller boy. "And Tim can fly it, he's already gotten really good--"
"Kon," says Tim. "I don't think that'll convince them."
"You're very perceptive," Zoe says solemnly, and Wash, who can tell when she's making a joke, smiles and leans in to kiss her.
"It's all right," says the blond girl-- Cassie, was it? --who seems to be their de facto leader. "Tim, you and Kon go along, to help load up. I'll stay here with Bart, and Raven--" She turns to the other girl, who's found the nearest shadow in the cargo bay with room to lurk in. Zoe thinks she's more than a little creepy, honestly, but they're all just kids, and the captain's intuition isn't *that* bad.
Well, there had been the Fed. And mistaking Simon *for* the Fed. And Saffron. Twice. But other than that.
"Can you run an errand, before we go? You'll be there and back before the shuttle even leaves."
She draws the other girl aside, and the noise of the docks, echoing up the still-open ramp and into the empty bay, obscures most of what she says. Zoe catches a "tell Kory to" and a "box should be," but that's all.
#4: Titans AGAIN
They get the first hint that they're not where they should be when, right after they fall out of the portal, a spaceship streaks by overhead. Seconds later, a bunch of guys on horseback thunder past the outcropping of dusty rock they got spat out on, and it's really only luck that they don't notice the superheroes right behind them. Nobody speaks for a good minute after that.
"We're probably going to, you know, stand out," Kon says, finally, even though all of them have been thinking it.
Tim just kind of sighs and starts to peel off his mask, and Cassie scowls and says that she's not taking off her bracelets, and Bart puts his costume back in his ring so he and Kon can see about getting some normal clothes for everyone.
It turns out that the nearest town is pretty far away-- like, *miles* from where the portal dumped them, and while they're looking for a place that has clothes, a slender crescent of moon rises into the sky. And then another moon, just-past-half-full ("gibbous," Bart supplies, helpfully), this one smaller and sort of purple. Seeing it confirms Kon's suspicions. Not in Kansas anymore, for sure, and somehow that's an awful lot of a relief, even though space *and* time are a lot tougher than just time, or alternate dimensions or whatever. At least they probably won't run into their crazy mirror universe doubles. Probably.
Kon and Bart trade their jeans to the oddly delighted proprietor of the town's dusty secondhand shop, who's willing to give them four full sets of worn, neatly mended clothes in exchange, even helping Kon rifle through the piles of shirts for a red button-down in Tim's size. The guy offers another pair of boots and a tangled handful of suspenders for Kon's t-shirt, but Kon declines, politely, and helps the guy wrap their clothes up in brown paper. Once the shopkeeper finishes doing something complicated with twine, resulting in handles, they walk out the door of the shop, and into, apparently, the OK Corral.
The guy getting held up by a couple of low-rent, sack-carrying extras from Gunsmoke looks sort of bored and pissed off about it. "Now, look here. There's no need to be getting all ornery about a little misunderstanding, especially not with all these bystanders, you know, standing by. You boys might want to get out of here," he says, speaking to Kon and Bart without looking away from the thugs with the guns, "because these fellas don't seem too concerned with who they ought to be shooting, which, I should mention, is *not me*." This last is directed back at the thugs, who only scowl.
"Thanks," says Kon, who's getting kind of tired of Crazy Western Universe. "You want some help with those guys?"
"Be mighty kind of you," he says, "But it's not your fight, so don't feel obligated."
"Like we're lettin' em walk off, after they seen us with the loot," says gun-toting thug #1. He has really bad teeth. "Anyway, they might have somethin' of value."
"In that case," the man says to Kon, "please. Feel obligated."
Kon sighs, and punches thug #1 in the head. Thug #2 takes a step forward and falls on his face, because his shoelaces are tied together-- thank you, Bart, Kon thinks-- and Former Muggee kicks him in the ribs and takes his sack. "Well," he says, sounding faintly impressed, "that was easier than I was expecting. You boys from around here?"
"Just passing through," says Bart, who seems to have picked up a drawl from somewhere. "Actually, we're lookin' for a ride off this rock. You know anyone with a ship?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," says the man. "Name's Malcolm Reynolds. Captain. You boys traveling alone? Mighty dangerous, couple of kids your age."
"We can take care of ourselves," Kon says, and hi, didn't he just punch a guy in the head? A guy who is, in fact, still unconscious, although Thug #2 has dragged him away by this point. "Anyway, there's four of us. We were just going to get the others when you got held up at gunpoint. Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?"
"More than I care to admit," says Captain Reynolds. "You got coin? You did me a good turn, but it takes more than a turn to book passage for four."
Before Kon can say anything that will make it obvious that they're from, possibly, another universe, the past, or both, Bart says, "We got some stuff to trade, and me 'n' Tim're good with mechanical things. And Kon, here, and his girl Cassie, they fight well enough you won't need any more good turns."
"Well," says Reynolds, "we could reach an understanding. Let me talk to my crew. Come meet us at the docks in a hour or so-- ship's called Serenity. You can't miss it, it's the only one can break atmo on this go se planet." He turns and strides off, his brown coat swirling kind of impressively, and Kon notices he's now got both the sacks the thugs were carrying. Which, he suspects, might have more to do with the man's charitable mood than any skills the Titans can bring to the table. Bart squints after him, his new hat shading his eyes. He looks weirdly comfortable in the old-timey clothes.
"Uh, Bart?" Kon says. "When did you turn into John Wayne? It's a little weird, is all."
"Oh!" Bart looks surprised. "Sorry. I've been here like a month in subjective time-- I found a computer terminal while you were wrapping up the clothes, and I did a bunch of reading."
He keeps explaining while Kon scoops him up and flies them back to Tim and Cassie. "We're definitely in an alternate universe. It's the future, people have colonized a bunch of planets and abandoned Earth, and there's no aliens. It looks like this Reynolds guy might've fought in the big civil war they had here a few years back, on the losing side. Since the government seems kind of potentially evil, I think flying under the radar with him might be a good idea while we figure out how to get home."
Bart repeats this for the benefit of Tim and Cassie, plus explaining how they managed to get into a fight on a planet composed mostly of dirt and idiots, and Tim and Cassie get changed into the less-conspicuous clothes. All the stuff they can't keep wearing or conceal on their persons-- Tim does an amazing job with the contents of his utility belt, considering how few pockets his new clothes have-- they wrap up in Tim's cape.
"It's gonna look weird that we have no luggage," Cassie says, a little dubious.
"Just be glad we don't have Gar or Kory or anyone with us," says Tim. Kon doesn't know about that-- he wouldn't mind having Kory along *anywhere*. "These people haven't made contact with non-human species; they probably don't even have metas. The four of us at least *look* inconspicuous."
"Whatever, Wonder Boy," Kon says. "If you wouldn't mind seeing Kory all dressed up in cowgirl gear, the Bat really *has* replaced you with a robot." Tim scowls, and Cassie cuffs the back of his head, not lightly. "Ow."
#5: oh, god, I don't even know anymore
"I can't believe we're really *going*," Kaylee said, wide-eyed, gazing out the front viewports like she could see the planet from here. "I mean, y'hear stories, but it's off all the trade routes and the people're all such homebodies, so you hardly never meet anyone who's *from* there." She made a high-pitched, excited sort of giggling noise; Mal didn't think he could duplicate it without being a girl Kaylee's age. "We're goin' to Keystone!"
"Now, don't get too excited," said Wash, rocking back in his chair. "I've heard the stories, too, and I'm sure it's all exaggeration and-- oh, who'm I kidding?" As it turned out, you didn't have to be a girl to make that noise. "We're goin' to Keystone!"
Mal rolled his eyes, and if he believed in that sort of thing he'd've muttered a brief prayer for the patience he'd need to put up with his crew until they made landfall. As it was, he just muttered.
****
"Everyone ready?" Mal looked over his crew-- well, crew except for Wash, who was busy landing the ship. Everyone else was in the cargo bay, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Even Jayne, which was a sight to see.
"Now, Sir Harrow said the folks we're to meet will be waiting at the docks for us, so once they get their cargo I don't see why you can't take the day in the city." Kaylee looked like she was gonna make that noise again. "Just remember-- keep your noses clean, 'cause the locals don't take kindly to miscreants."
Seeing as how they were miscreants to a man, Mal'd been reluctant at first to take the job. But it was so legitimate it squeaked, and Warrick had said there weren't many crews he'd trust with it. And the money was good, of course, which was what mattered most of all.
"All right, kids," said Wash over the intercom, "Landing in ten on the infamous little planet they call Keystone." He sounded thrilled beyond all reason. But so did everyone else, pretty much, ever since Mal told them about their destination. Even Zoe, who usually had better sense, and Jayne, who didn't have enough.
They landed smooth as could be, with hardly even the usual thump that accompanied the switch to a planet's own gravity. Wash came clattering down the stairs a scant few seconds later, and fetched up next to Zoe, who just looked tolerant and amused while he beamed at her. As the bay doors creaked and ground their way open, Kaylee started bouncing up and down on her toes, and grabbed River's hand. Simon straightened his tie, and Jayne appeared to be making last-minute adjustments to his hairstyle.
Their first look at Keystone was right pretty, Mal had to admit. Not half so sterile as a Core world, but nearly as clean and well-kept; the people looked fed and happy, and the buildngs were handsome, even here by the docks. Nothing out of the ordinary: just a busy, prosperous planet halfway 'twixt Core and Rim, without the hints of seediness you'd usually see in a place without the Alliance crawling all over it.
Then a man in green long johns and a bright yellow cape dropped out of the sky, landing nimbly on the cargo bay ramp. "You must be Captain Reynolds," he said to Mal. He was wearing a little green mask, the same color as his costume. "I'm the Emerald Eagle. Welcome to Keystone."
Kaylee made that noise again.
****
Folks weren't rightly sure of how or when Keystone acquired its population of super-powered humans. Some thought it might go back all the way to Earth-That-Was, that there'd been those who'd hidden their abilities, settled together on a likely-looking planet, and made it their own over the centuries. Others theorized about something in the air or water, some flaw in the terraforming that changed Keystone's settlers, gave them gifts beyond the scope of ordinary men. Some-- and Mal counted himself as one of them-- thought that Keystone was just plain weird, and didn't think of it much beyond that.
Whatever was behind it, the result was a whole planet where no one though it the least bit odd to see people in costumes and capes, flying over the cities and fighting crime. Keystone's people were notoriously mistrustful of outsiders, as unlikely to emigrate as to encourage immigrants, and the planet had mostly stayed neutral in the war. There had been no regiments from Keystone on either side, and once the fighting stopped the Alliance had installed a small governing force and mostly left it alone.
Mal figured that having an unknown number of citizens strong enough to pick up buildings and throw 'em might've had something to do with that, but then, his reputation for cynicism was not unearned.
No matter the cause, the result was that Keystone, for the most part, left the rest of the 'verse alone. It was largely self-sufficient, with no major export industries; hardly any ships had reason to go there, and fewer still brought cargo. Mal hadn't asked Warrick Harrow any specifics about what he was carrying; the man wanted discreet and Mal gave it, so the shipping manifest said "textiles" and left it at that.
But now that a lantern-jawed man with his drawers on the outside was smiling benevolently at his crew, Mal was getting a mite suspicious. "You're our contact?" Mal said, trying not to let too much of his incredulity show. "Sir Harrow didn't mention--"
"Oh, I suppose he wouldn't," said the Eagle. "Good man, but a bit paranoid about these things, wouldn't you say?" Mal supposed that being able to fly might make a body less paranoid, but he couldn't for the life of him see *how*.
"You might say that," he said. "But I do wish he'd mentioned *something.*"
The Eagle frowned, brows beetling as though he'd come up against a knotty problem. "You don't mind, do you? Only I know some people are uneasy, when they're not from here and all they've heard are rumors--"
"We don't mind!" Kaylee said. She *had* been trying to control herself, without much success, and Mal had spent the last few minutes watching her bounce up and down and exchange thrilled looks with Wash, out of the corner of his eye. "Cap'n's just bein' cranky. We don't mind at *all*."
Mal allowed himself a wry expression. "As you can see, my main problem seems to be keeping my crew from expiring out of sheer delight," he said. "Any more of you folks show up, I don't know if they're going to last the trip."
"Well, that might be a bit of a problem, you see," said the Emerald Eagle, "because--"
He was cut off by what looked to be a small, extremely localized dust devil, that zipped up out of nowhere and deposited a teenaged girl on his ramp. She looked eighteen or nineteen, older than River but younger than Kaylee, and was wearing a purple-and-pink costume. Her short dark hair was held back with a headband, and she seemed to be suffering from a bad case of the jitters. "Isthistheship?" she said, so fast it was hard to pick out the individual words. "BecausemomsaidtheshipwascomingtodayandDartsaidIcouldgoaheadandcheck--"
"Whoa!" said the Eagle. "Hold up a minute, Dash. This is the ship, but you need to slow down for a minute."
She rolled her eyes at him, a pitch-perfect match for River in one of her brattier flashes of sanity. "O-*kay*," she said. "Slowing down. I *can* do that, you know."
At that precise moment, another dust devil whipped up. This time it left an identical girl, except for her long hair, tied back in a braid, and the reversed colors on her costume. "Isthistheship?" she said. Kaylee and Wash *both* made the noise, this time.
Mal thought he recognized the long-suffering expression on the Eagle's face. Suddenly, the man seemed a lot less unsettling to him, even if he did wear much, much tighter pants than a fellow his age should be expected to.
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Date: 2007-09-15 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-16 09:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-24 07:33 am (UTC)Roy and Lian and Serenity are SO meant to be. *draws hearts* Kaylee was really nice here - embracing her hormones, of course, but also more perceptive about Inara than one might think.
Oh, Bart in #4 was *killing* me! Hat! Drawl! *giggles uncontrollably* And Mal's snark mid-robbery was so him. I love the opening, too - the visual absurdity is so clear and so appropriate. Can you be bribed to write more?
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Date: 2008-01-23 07:02 am (UTC)