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remix_reduxTitle: Family (The Road Home Mix)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
inalasahl
Summary: For a while there, it was just Mal and Zoe.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Firefly
Characters: Mal, Zoe
Disclaimer: The verse and its characters belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century FOX, and so on, but not to me.
Note: Beta thanks go to the incomparablequiesce.
Original Story: Family Ties by Minakochan (redshoeson)
Shadow fell on a Thursday, by its own calendar. To everyone else, it was proof of the sickness of the Alliance, terror and aggression visited upon non-combatants. To Mal, it was a mask of ice over him, a thin film keeping his insides separate from the world around him. The orders that came the next day were a relief: one last chance to hand the Alliance its hat.
The Browncoats pretty well controlled the southern hemisphere of Paquin, but the Alliance had a closely-watched refueling base in the northern hemisphere. Snaps from space neatly detailed the construction of the beginnings of a launch pad for a space station. It would have anti-aircraft guns, of course, rendering it impossible for ships to get within spitting distance of the planet, cutting the Browncoats off. Command knew instantly that nothing could be done about it from the air. The purple bellies' base guns were only ranged for ships in atmo, but they had yet to let a single one get close. Covert would have to do. Flat, featureless desert surrounded the Alliance base, making it the perfect lookout. Even camoflaged and specially trained, covert would need the Alliance occupied by something else to get through.
Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds wasn't covert ops, nor even what anyone would call quiet. He landed in the desert on a Friday, the day after Shadow, with two other sergeants, his soldiers and theirs, and command's orders running through his veins: "Make a lot of noise. Distract 'em, Reynolds. Just don't die too fast."
It was the early days, and the Browncoats hadn't yet realized they didn't have enough folks to spend them as cannon fodder.
There was no place to hide when the base guns turned on them, but they pretended they were trying as they crawled between cacti and sipped from the canteens filling their packs. They had extra water, or at least enough. They had no need to carry radios or communication devices of any kind. The impact booms and the cut-off screams made less noise after the third day.
Sergeant Cheung asked the Captain before they set out how they were supposed to know it was over. The Captain looked surprised and pressed his mouth into a tight little line. "You'll know when they stop shooting back."
At the end of four days, shuttles skimmed overhead, dropping men and women onto their heads like hailstones. Years later, Mal would remember wrestling a long-limbed blue-eyed purple belly, fool enough to drop her weapon, but smart enough to get her hands around his throat. There was too much other noise about for him to hear the shot that saved his life, but he would recall the sound of his gasping breaths as she went slack over him and pushing her off to reveal a skinny green private with huge brown eyes. "Cheung?" Mal asked, not recognizing her.
"Dead, Sir. Permission to join—"
"Yes, yes," he said, wiping his hands on his coat. "Well, what good are you?"
She gave him a hard look, but answered well enough. "I'm steady, sir." Maybe she wasn't so green, at that. By the end of the fifth day, Mal was in charge of all 16 who were left, Sergeants Davies and Cheung no longer capable of distracting anyone, except by their smell. At night, they slept back to back, heat against the desert cold and Mal accepted the private's handkerchief when the wind stung his eyes and made his breath catch.
On the sixth day, they were ready for the shuttles picking the falling soldiers from the sky as they came. As he aimed upward, Mal only peripherally saw the flicker of the private raising her gun at him, over his shoulder. Pop pop pop pop pop. The gorram bug bite in his back didn't hardly hurt, but it knocked his legs out from under him. He finished out the day firing from the ground, propped up on his elbow. When sunset came, the desert was quiet save for the bugs, Mal's groans and the susurrations of the bandages unspooling in the private's hands.
Far off into the distance, the horizon lit up with a purple-red glow. "Private," Mal choked hoarsely.
"I see it, sir," she answered, and the base guns stayed silent.
On the seventh day, Mal rested in a field hospital, only dimly aware of the soft talk surrounding him in words like "paralyzed," "nerve cluster" and "replace."
Later, he floated, a little giddy and dizzy, wiggling his toes just because he could.
The private visited. Mal heard the nurse bark at her to come back later, they'd had all the buddies they could stand for the day, getting in their way. "M'sister," he murmured through the drugs. "She's my sister." He opened his eyes and stared a challenge at the nurse, daring him to call it a lie. Maybe Mal was too floaty for the stare to work, because the nurse said he couldn't really see the resemblance. "'s 'cause Private—" he looked at her.
"Alleyne, sir."
"'S 'cause Private Alleyne takes after her pa, and I take after mine. But if you look again you'll see we both got Ma's—" Gorramit, he's too tired to think.
"Nose," Alleyne finished for him.
"Right," he said. "Ma's nose."
Private Alleyne's glower seemed to work a little better. "Fine," the nurse replied, sailing out of the room. "Hope you get gangrene."
Mal winced ostentatiously as he shifted in the cot. "Steady's good, Alleyne," he said. "But fast is better."
***
Neither of them had money when the Alliance finally turned them out to go forth and fight no more. Mal had no family to go home to. He guessed Zoe didn't either. They had to hire on with a hard man who looked at her the wrong way. "She's a looker," he spit with a leer, as if Zoe weren't standing right there.
"So am I," Mal said. "But we don't hold it against each other."
"It's just until I can save up," Mal told her a little desperately as they loaded boxes next to each other. He's the one who insisted they stick to the rim. Without him, Zoe could go elsewhere, more respectable. "I'll get a ship. It's just for a little while."
She shook her head, embarrassment plain in the lines on her face. "Sir," she began, and he ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, tried desperately to think. "Who told you you were a looker?"
He snorted and cuffed her on the arm. She grinned.
***
It wasn't bad, just a little gunplay, but when they got back to the ship there was a gorramed scary moment where Serenity didn't move. Mal and Zoe ran up the stairs double-time, Mal bellowing the whole way and there's Bester arm deep in wires at the console and the new pilot pushing all kinds of buttons trying to get something, anything to work, not even listening to Mal and then he looked down at Bester and the wires.
The pilot, Wash, cursed, jammed his arm down in the mess, pinched and twisted something, arm out, green button, red button, throttle and they were off. Wash was Mal's choice, not Zoe's. He turned to tell her, "I told you so," high on adrenaline and joie de vivre, but she wasn't looking at him.
Zoe was looking—smiling—at Wash.
Mal dreamed that night about fire raining down on Shadow, orange arcs of light devouring his horse, his house, his ma and Zoe until he was left standing alone in ashes. He jerked awake and slammed his fist hard into the bulkhead behind him. The sting almost felt good.
***
Mal was already drunk before the wedding even started. They'll want a bit of land, he thought. On St. Albans, maybe. Not much to look at, but just right for a family starting out. "Don't marry him," Mal ordered as he helped her dress, fastening what she couldn't easily reach. "He's an idiot. He makes stupid jokes—" She'd smirked at him, laughing, but he could see she was getting annoyed, also, as he went on and on. "—Can't hardly dress himself—" One last ditch attempt at reason. "He likes fresh air!"
That's when she paused, the frown forming on her face smoothing out. “Captain,” she said, closing her fingers around him, warm and tight. “You and I both know where my loyalties lie. Don’t make me spit them out on my wedding night." She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "Ni bu dong ma?" she reminded him. "He's a pilot; he wants to fly."
"Xiao mei," he said to her, blood sister, and returned the hug.
***
Kaylee hung the Welcome Home banner over Zoe and Wash's door. Mal paid for it.
Finis
Author:
inalasahlSummary: For a while there, it was just Mal and Zoe.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Firefly
Characters: Mal, Zoe
Disclaimer: The verse and its characters belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century FOX, and so on, but not to me.
Note: Beta thanks go to the incomparable
quiesce.Original Story: Family Ties by Minakochan (
redshoeson)Shadow fell on a Thursday, by its own calendar. To everyone else, it was proof of the sickness of the Alliance, terror and aggression visited upon non-combatants. To Mal, it was a mask of ice over him, a thin film keeping his insides separate from the world around him. The orders that came the next day were a relief: one last chance to hand the Alliance its hat.
The Browncoats pretty well controlled the southern hemisphere of Paquin, but the Alliance had a closely-watched refueling base in the northern hemisphere. Snaps from space neatly detailed the construction of the beginnings of a launch pad for a space station. It would have anti-aircraft guns, of course, rendering it impossible for ships to get within spitting distance of the planet, cutting the Browncoats off. Command knew instantly that nothing could be done about it from the air. The purple bellies' base guns were only ranged for ships in atmo, but they had yet to let a single one get close. Covert would have to do. Flat, featureless desert surrounded the Alliance base, making it the perfect lookout. Even camoflaged and specially trained, covert would need the Alliance occupied by something else to get through.
Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds wasn't covert ops, nor even what anyone would call quiet. He landed in the desert on a Friday, the day after Shadow, with two other sergeants, his soldiers and theirs, and command's orders running through his veins: "Make a lot of noise. Distract 'em, Reynolds. Just don't die too fast."
It was the early days, and the Browncoats hadn't yet realized they didn't have enough folks to spend them as cannon fodder.
There was no place to hide when the base guns turned on them, but they pretended they were trying as they crawled between cacti and sipped from the canteens filling their packs. They had extra water, or at least enough. They had no need to carry radios or communication devices of any kind. The impact booms and the cut-off screams made less noise after the third day.
Sergeant Cheung asked the Captain before they set out how they were supposed to know it was over. The Captain looked surprised and pressed his mouth into a tight little line. "You'll know when they stop shooting back."
At the end of four days, shuttles skimmed overhead, dropping men and women onto their heads like hailstones. Years later, Mal would remember wrestling a long-limbed blue-eyed purple belly, fool enough to drop her weapon, but smart enough to get her hands around his throat. There was too much other noise about for him to hear the shot that saved his life, but he would recall the sound of his gasping breaths as she went slack over him and pushing her off to reveal a skinny green private with huge brown eyes. "Cheung?" Mal asked, not recognizing her.
"Dead, Sir. Permission to join—"
"Yes, yes," he said, wiping his hands on his coat. "Well, what good are you?"
She gave him a hard look, but answered well enough. "I'm steady, sir." Maybe she wasn't so green, at that. By the end of the fifth day, Mal was in charge of all 16 who were left, Sergeants Davies and Cheung no longer capable of distracting anyone, except by their smell. At night, they slept back to back, heat against the desert cold and Mal accepted the private's handkerchief when the wind stung his eyes and made his breath catch.
On the sixth day, they were ready for the shuttles picking the falling soldiers from the sky as they came. As he aimed upward, Mal only peripherally saw the flicker of the private raising her gun at him, over his shoulder. Pop pop pop pop pop. The gorram bug bite in his back didn't hardly hurt, but it knocked his legs out from under him. He finished out the day firing from the ground, propped up on his elbow. When sunset came, the desert was quiet save for the bugs, Mal's groans and the susurrations of the bandages unspooling in the private's hands.
Far off into the distance, the horizon lit up with a purple-red glow. "Private," Mal choked hoarsely.
"I see it, sir," she answered, and the base guns stayed silent.
On the seventh day, Mal rested in a field hospital, only dimly aware of the soft talk surrounding him in words like "paralyzed," "nerve cluster" and "replace."
Later, he floated, a little giddy and dizzy, wiggling his toes just because he could.
The private visited. Mal heard the nurse bark at her to come back later, they'd had all the buddies they could stand for the day, getting in their way. "M'sister," he murmured through the drugs. "She's my sister." He opened his eyes and stared a challenge at the nurse, daring him to call it a lie. Maybe Mal was too floaty for the stare to work, because the nurse said he couldn't really see the resemblance. "'s 'cause Private—" he looked at her.
"Alleyne, sir."
"'S 'cause Private Alleyne takes after her pa, and I take after mine. But if you look again you'll see we both got Ma's—" Gorramit, he's too tired to think.
"Nose," Alleyne finished for him.
"Right," he said. "Ma's nose."
Private Alleyne's glower seemed to work a little better. "Fine," the nurse replied, sailing out of the room. "Hope you get gangrene."
Mal winced ostentatiously as he shifted in the cot. "Steady's good, Alleyne," he said. "But fast is better."
***
Neither of them had money when the Alliance finally turned them out to go forth and fight no more. Mal had no family to go home to. He guessed Zoe didn't either. They had to hire on with a hard man who looked at her the wrong way. "She's a looker," he spit with a leer, as if Zoe weren't standing right there.
"So am I," Mal said. "But we don't hold it against each other."
"It's just until I can save up," Mal told her a little desperately as they loaded boxes next to each other. He's the one who insisted they stick to the rim. Without him, Zoe could go elsewhere, more respectable. "I'll get a ship. It's just for a little while."
She shook her head, embarrassment plain in the lines on her face. "Sir," she began, and he ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, tried desperately to think. "Who told you you were a looker?"
He snorted and cuffed her on the arm. She grinned.
***
It wasn't bad, just a little gunplay, but when they got back to the ship there was a gorramed scary moment where Serenity didn't move. Mal and Zoe ran up the stairs double-time, Mal bellowing the whole way and there's Bester arm deep in wires at the console and the new pilot pushing all kinds of buttons trying to get something, anything to work, not even listening to Mal and then he looked down at Bester and the wires.
The pilot, Wash, cursed, jammed his arm down in the mess, pinched and twisted something, arm out, green button, red button, throttle and they were off. Wash was Mal's choice, not Zoe's. He turned to tell her, "I told you so," high on adrenaline and joie de vivre, but she wasn't looking at him.
Zoe was looking—smiling—at Wash.
Mal dreamed that night about fire raining down on Shadow, orange arcs of light devouring his horse, his house, his ma and Zoe until he was left standing alone in ashes. He jerked awake and slammed his fist hard into the bulkhead behind him. The sting almost felt good.
***
Mal was already drunk before the wedding even started. They'll want a bit of land, he thought. On St. Albans, maybe. Not much to look at, but just right for a family starting out. "Don't marry him," Mal ordered as he helped her dress, fastening what she couldn't easily reach. "He's an idiot. He makes stupid jokes—" She'd smirked at him, laughing, but he could see she was getting annoyed, also, as he went on and on. "—Can't hardly dress himself—" One last ditch attempt at reason. "He likes fresh air!"
That's when she paused, the frown forming on her face smoothing out. “Captain,” she said, closing her fingers around him, warm and tight. “You and I both know where my loyalties lie. Don’t make me spit them out on my wedding night." She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "Ni bu dong ma?" she reminded him. "He's a pilot; he wants to fly."
"Xiao mei," he said to her, blood sister, and returned the hug.
***
Kaylee hung the Welcome Home banner over Zoe and Wash's door. Mal paid for it.
Finis
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-22 07:51 pm (UTC)And then! Zoe and Mal, meeting up, and the beginnings of a family! It was really touching and done so softly and subtly that I could really believe that I was just looking in on real people just trying to get by.
Long story shot: fantastic.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 01:37 am (UTC)I'm really glad the war stuff worked for you. All of my ideas about what a space war would look like, of course, come from reading (and watching) science fiction so it's neat that you picked up on that. One of things that has never felt quite plausible to me in the Firefly verse is how and why ground battles (and every war story we know of Mal and Zoe are ground battles) would have been so omnipresent and decisive. Writing this was partly my attempt to address some of that puzzlement: to think about how the Alliance fought and how the Browncoats fought and the decisions made on both sides, so I'm really glad the "why and what-fors" you mentioned do come across.
Thank you, again.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-23 05:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 01:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-23 11:38 pm (UTC)Love, love, LOVE Mal & Zoe.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 01:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-24 04:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 01:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-24 10:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 01:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-26 02:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 01:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-28 01:11 am (UTC)I enjoyed this so much. You have a great ear for these characters.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 01:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-28 03:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 02:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-28 06:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 02:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 03:20 am (UTC)She gave him a hard look, but answered well enough. "I'm steady, sir." Maybe she wasn't so green, at that.
This is so perfectly Zoe (in Mal's perception). Nice.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 02:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 05:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 02:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 11:49 am (UTC)"Fine," the nurse replied, sailing out of the room. "Hope you get gangrene."
and
"Sir"..."Who told you you were a looker?"
So is the way that the story celebrates the strength and depth of Mal and Zoe's friendship, and still lets me wibble about the resulting tensions in the (Mal and) Wash and Zoe relationship.
Thanks.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 03:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 12:30 pm (UTC)And I love love love the bit in the hospital, the lie they tell so she can stay, and by the end it isn't a lie at all. Just lovely.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 03:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-02 06:57 pm (UTC)Thank you for remixing me!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-04 03:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-05 04:20 am (UTC)Thanks for sharing!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-05 04:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-05 09:02 pm (UTC)Thank you very much for taking the time to comment!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-13 03:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-13 06:04 pm (UTC)