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[FM] 43 - Pity
Oct. 15th, 2006 03:32 pmHe only paused for a moment as the Operative walked away, those final words ringing in his head.
“There is nothing left to see.”
It was only a moment that pity stirred in him…not so much for the man himself, Mal had lied about his feelings…he’d do worse than kill the man if ever they crossed paths again. He might even throw himself a party if he found that the Operative met a nasty end at the hands of them that hired him.
But his fate…that unsettled him some. Man of faith like that...ready to die for the thing that made his sun rise and set each morn. He’d honestly believed he was shaping a world that he’d never be worthy of…a world he believed in to such an end that he knew when he saw it, he’d never be able to live in it.
Mal had tasted that faith…and the Operative had seen his perfect world come undone around him. The shadow would fade, and one less evil would be walking around to vex honest folk…or even dishonest. That’s all he was now…not a man, not a monster, but a wispy vapor of smoke left over from something bigger and meaner. He couldn’t hurt nobody…never would again.
There wasn’t nothing left of him to call a man or beast…and that moved Mal to a certain kind of pity for one reason, if nothing else.
Had he moved a mite slower and not been so stubborn about dying…that could have been him standing in the Operative’s shoes.
But his pity didn’t last long…a pity felt for ghosts ain’t the kind that’s meant to last.
Like most things in shadow, even that would fade in time.
Muse: Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Words: 286
“There is nothing left to see.”
It was only a moment that pity stirred in him…not so much for the man himself, Mal had lied about his feelings…he’d do worse than kill the man if ever they crossed paths again. He might even throw himself a party if he found that the Operative met a nasty end at the hands of them that hired him.
But his fate…that unsettled him some. Man of faith like that...ready to die for the thing that made his sun rise and set each morn. He’d honestly believed he was shaping a world that he’d never be worthy of…a world he believed in to such an end that he knew when he saw it, he’d never be able to live in it.
Mal had tasted that faith…and the Operative had seen his perfect world come undone around him. The shadow would fade, and one less evil would be walking around to vex honest folk…or even dishonest. That’s all he was now…not a man, not a monster, but a wispy vapor of smoke left over from something bigger and meaner. He couldn’t hurt nobody…never would again.
There wasn’t nothing left of him to call a man or beast…and that moved Mal to a certain kind of pity for one reason, if nothing else.
Had he moved a mite slower and not been so stubborn about dying…that could have been him standing in the Operative’s shoes.
But his pity didn’t last long…a pity felt for ghosts ain’t the kind that’s meant to last.
Like most things in shadow, even that would fade in time.
Muse: Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Words: 286
