Firefly - Something Precious
Finally finished something new. But before moving on to the ficlet... I know several on my flist are PotC fans, and since I've been very quiet on the subject lately, I wanted to take a moment to say that, well, my PotC muses have disappeared to parts unknown, I'm afraid, and right now I'm not sure when they will be back. So for the time being, at least, I'm concentrating on getting the h/c ficlets done, the fifth of which is under the cut below.
~ ~ ~
Title: Something Precious
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and settings referred to here are not mine. They are Joss's. No infringement is intended and I'm not making any money from this story.
Summary: Mal is in trouble and River goes to get him out of it.
Author's note: This is for the prompt "Injured", in my 10_hurt_comfort table. Set more than a year after the movie. The two of them are in an established relationship here. Many thanks to geek_mama_2 for beta help and suggestions!
Something Precious
by Hereswith
It’s a bad day, a black day, shadowed dark though the sun’s heat glances off the dust and rocks in ripples and bloodied red, like Mal’s face where he’s been struck, over and again, his lip splitting.
River hands the binoculars to Zoe and kicks a stone, hard, almost stubs her toes through the boot. She had been on Serenity with the others, while Mal and Zoe went to town, not with him, when simple became complicated, and now he’s bound, trussed, tied up against a fence, and they are hurting him. Āi yā! Anger scours through her, blurs all reasoning and she closes her eyes, breathes deep and lets it out, forcing her head to clear.
“I’m going in,” she says, her smile a flicker, a baring of teeth. “They don’t know me. They’ll think I’m harmless.”
“Probably will,” Zoe agrees, prodding the swelling on her temple with a grimace. “And it’d distract them enough Jayne and I could get up close. Jayne?”
“Yeah,” he replies. “Works for me.”
Zoe gazes at River. “Be careful.”
River nods as response and starts down the slope, in the direction of the small, shabby ranch house. She hides among the bushes, at first, then steps into full view, easing her shoulders back, and her pulse quickens though she moves like she’s strolling, not a trouble in the ‘verse.
It isn’t long before someone spots her.
“What the-” a blond-curled youth exclaims. “Hey!”
She stops and waits as he advances, aware of the picture she presents, her dress and hair flowing, her arms loosely at her sides, empty palms showing. What he sees he believes, she can tell, he doesn’t guess at the danger, that she holds herself as ready as she would have a weapon, pressure on the trigger.
He waves his gun at her. “How’d you get here?”
“I walked,” she replies, and when he frowns, elaborates, “You put one foot in front of the other, until you arrive.”
The frown changes to a scowl. “You crazy or what?”
“I was,” she admits. “But not so much anymore. I can keep my thoughts in order most of the time, sorted as they should be.”
It’s a truth, but not one he comprehends. With an annoyed grunt, he seizes her, pulling her along, and she allows it. The other men are gathering around, curiosity painted in bold strokes across their features, and Mal, Mal raises his head at the commotion, regarding her with very little surprise, but some concern, and it’s an effort, an ache, not to run to him.
Her captor halts, releasing her abruptly. “Clyde!”
The sparsely bearded man she had glimpsed through the binoculars, punching Mal with such relish, strides towards them, and River clenches her fists. Zoe had said this Clyde had provoked Mal into a fight after bumping into him on the street. Clyde had ended up dunked and drenched in a water trough, and had sworn to make Mal pay. He had-with the help of his gang, eight of them attacking Mal and Zoe by ambush.
“What’s this about?” Clyde demands. “Who are you?”
“I came to find something I lost.” The wind tangles in her hair and she brushes the strands from her cheeks. “Something precious.”
“Eh?” he says, his brows lifting, bushy-winged. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She points at Mal, her finger steady, and her voice. “Him.”
Clyde’s gaze narrows. “Him?”
“You took him,” she continues. “You and your men. I want him back.”
Clyde barks out a sudden laugh. “You’ve got brass, I’ll grant you that.” He turns to Mal. “Yours, is she?”
“More like I’m hers,” Mal replies, and though it’s obvious the bruises pain him, he gives River a slight wink. “You’d best do what she says. She gets a mite tetchy when she don’t get her will.” He adds, as if in confidence, “Trust me, I’ve been there. It ain’t pretty.”
Scattered chuckles and snickering spread to fill the air, and a man in the group comments, “That itty-bitty thing? She’s gonna take all o’ us?”
Her senses sharpen to a fine edge, her body relaxing into position. “Watch me,” she says, then spins on her heel, and dances.
One, she counts, as the first of them goes down, and a stunned tumult ensues. Two, with a high wheel kick and she lands with a thud, ducks and twists, deflecting a gun, then takes a swing, connecting with jarring impact, and that’s three. In the periphery, she can hear Jayne calling to Zoe and the sound of a weapon being fired, but her attention is diverted elsewhere, because Clyde is too near to Mal for her comfort, and he’s wielding a knife.
She covers the distance so fast, her heart beats and then she’s on him, the snap of bone a grim satisfaction, and Clyde drops the knife, falling to his knees in a fit of screaming and cursing, clutching his wrist. Which makes four. Jayne and Zoe, she notes, have already dealt with the rest.
“You shouldn’t have hit him,” she informs Clyde, a calm statement of fact.
Zoe comes up next to her, rifle trained on Clyde, and River bends at the waist, picking up the knife. When she straightens, the blade glinting bright in her grasp, Clyde flinches, but she passes him without a glance.
“Yāo nŭ!” Clyde spits after her, the moment of fear shifting to rage. “Demon woman! I’ll have you-”
“No, you won’t,” Zoe interrupts, cutting off his tirade by sending him sprawling unconscious with the butt of her rifle.
River, meanwhile, concentrates on sawing through Mal’s bonds, and once he shrugs free of the ropes, she discards the knife and he’s in her arms, her face against his chest, pressed into the fabric of his shirt, and she mumbles his name like a question.
“Reckon it could be worse,” he says, wryly. “Are you all right?”
She affirms it, then draws away from him, chiding, “You take more looking after than my brother,” and grins when he mutters in rueful derision, because he’s alive, and she has him safe.
Zoe approaches together with Jayne, and Mal nods at her. “Good to see you.”
“And you, sir,” she replies. “Mule’s on the far side of the hill.”
“I’ll manage. Least to get out of this place.” Gingerly, Mal leans over Clyde, retrieving a gun River recognises as his, and holsters it. “Let’s go.”
As they make their way from the ranch, she stays beside him, observing him keenly. He doesn’t complain, but he’s lock-jawed and pale, and every so often he winces, touching his ribs.
At the bottom of the slope, that ragged rise of ground, he falters a mere second and she reaches out, catching his fingers in hers. “In case you stumble.”
He says nothing, but his eyes gentle and he squeezes her hand.
~ ~ ~
Title: Something Precious
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and settings referred to here are not mine. They are Joss's. No infringement is intended and I'm not making any money from this story.
Summary: Mal is in trouble and River goes to get him out of it.
Author's note: This is for the prompt "Injured", in my 10_hurt_comfort table. Set more than a year after the movie. The two of them are in an established relationship here. Many thanks to geek_mama_2 for beta help and suggestions!
Something Precious
by Hereswith
It’s a bad day, a black day, shadowed dark though the sun’s heat glances off the dust and rocks in ripples and bloodied red, like Mal’s face where he’s been struck, over and again, his lip splitting.
River hands the binoculars to Zoe and kicks a stone, hard, almost stubs her toes through the boot. She had been on Serenity with the others, while Mal and Zoe went to town, not with him, when simple became complicated, and now he’s bound, trussed, tied up against a fence, and they are hurting him. Āi yā! Anger scours through her, blurs all reasoning and she closes her eyes, breathes deep and lets it out, forcing her head to clear.
“I’m going in,” she says, her smile a flicker, a baring of teeth. “They don’t know me. They’ll think I’m harmless.”
“Probably will,” Zoe agrees, prodding the swelling on her temple with a grimace. “And it’d distract them enough Jayne and I could get up close. Jayne?”
“Yeah,” he replies. “Works for me.”
Zoe gazes at River. “Be careful.”
River nods as response and starts down the slope, in the direction of the small, shabby ranch house. She hides among the bushes, at first, then steps into full view, easing her shoulders back, and her pulse quickens though she moves like she’s strolling, not a trouble in the ‘verse.
It isn’t long before someone spots her.
“What the-” a blond-curled youth exclaims. “Hey!”
She stops and waits as he advances, aware of the picture she presents, her dress and hair flowing, her arms loosely at her sides, empty palms showing. What he sees he believes, she can tell, he doesn’t guess at the danger, that she holds herself as ready as she would have a weapon, pressure on the trigger.
He waves his gun at her. “How’d you get here?”
“I walked,” she replies, and when he frowns, elaborates, “You put one foot in front of the other, until you arrive.”
The frown changes to a scowl. “You crazy or what?”
“I was,” she admits. “But not so much anymore. I can keep my thoughts in order most of the time, sorted as they should be.”
It’s a truth, but not one he comprehends. With an annoyed grunt, he seizes her, pulling her along, and she allows it. The other men are gathering around, curiosity painted in bold strokes across their features, and Mal, Mal raises his head at the commotion, regarding her with very little surprise, but some concern, and it’s an effort, an ache, not to run to him.
Her captor halts, releasing her abruptly. “Clyde!”
The sparsely bearded man she had glimpsed through the binoculars, punching Mal with such relish, strides towards them, and River clenches her fists. Zoe had said this Clyde had provoked Mal into a fight after bumping into him on the street. Clyde had ended up dunked and drenched in a water trough, and had sworn to make Mal pay. He had-with the help of his gang, eight of them attacking Mal and Zoe by ambush.
“What’s this about?” Clyde demands. “Who are you?”
“I came to find something I lost.” The wind tangles in her hair and she brushes the strands from her cheeks. “Something precious.”
“Eh?” he says, his brows lifting, bushy-winged. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She points at Mal, her finger steady, and her voice. “Him.”
Clyde’s gaze narrows. “Him?”
“You took him,” she continues. “You and your men. I want him back.”
Clyde barks out a sudden laugh. “You’ve got brass, I’ll grant you that.” He turns to Mal. “Yours, is she?”
“More like I’m hers,” Mal replies, and though it’s obvious the bruises pain him, he gives River a slight wink. “You’d best do what she says. She gets a mite tetchy when she don’t get her will.” He adds, as if in confidence, “Trust me, I’ve been there. It ain’t pretty.”
Scattered chuckles and snickering spread to fill the air, and a man in the group comments, “That itty-bitty thing? She’s gonna take all o’ us?”
Her senses sharpen to a fine edge, her body relaxing into position. “Watch me,” she says, then spins on her heel, and dances.
One, she counts, as the first of them goes down, and a stunned tumult ensues. Two, with a high wheel kick and she lands with a thud, ducks and twists, deflecting a gun, then takes a swing, connecting with jarring impact, and that’s three. In the periphery, she can hear Jayne calling to Zoe and the sound of a weapon being fired, but her attention is diverted elsewhere, because Clyde is too near to Mal for her comfort, and he’s wielding a knife.
She covers the distance so fast, her heart beats and then she’s on him, the snap of bone a grim satisfaction, and Clyde drops the knife, falling to his knees in a fit of screaming and cursing, clutching his wrist. Which makes four. Jayne and Zoe, she notes, have already dealt with the rest.
“You shouldn’t have hit him,” she informs Clyde, a calm statement of fact.
Zoe comes up next to her, rifle trained on Clyde, and River bends at the waist, picking up the knife. When she straightens, the blade glinting bright in her grasp, Clyde flinches, but she passes him without a glance.
“Yāo nŭ!” Clyde spits after her, the moment of fear shifting to rage. “Demon woman! I’ll have you-”
“No, you won’t,” Zoe interrupts, cutting off his tirade by sending him sprawling unconscious with the butt of her rifle.
River, meanwhile, concentrates on sawing through Mal’s bonds, and once he shrugs free of the ropes, she discards the knife and he’s in her arms, her face against his chest, pressed into the fabric of his shirt, and she mumbles his name like a question.
“Reckon it could be worse,” he says, wryly. “Are you all right?”
She affirms it, then draws away from him, chiding, “You take more looking after than my brother,” and grins when he mutters in rueful derision, because he’s alive, and she has him safe.
Zoe approaches together with Jayne, and Mal nods at her. “Good to see you.”
“And you, sir,” she replies. “Mule’s on the far side of the hill.”
“I’ll manage. Least to get out of this place.” Gingerly, Mal leans over Clyde, retrieving a gun River recognises as his, and holsters it. “Let’s go.”
As they make their way from the ranch, she stays beside him, observing him keenly. He doesn’t complain, but he’s lock-jawed and pale, and every so often he winces, touching his ribs.
At the bottom of the slope, that ragged rise of ground, he falters a mere second and she reaches out, catching his fingers in hers. “In case you stumble.”
He says nothing, but his eyes gentle and he squeezes her hand.