big_damn_hero

The world was powerful dark all ‘round him, but it was a good sort of darkness...kind that came at the beginning.

With drugs in his borrowed blood and a good deal of battle fatigue making him feel rather lazy and relaxed-like, Mal could recall the purifying fire without any apprehension or fear...even the tight, thin cold of fading oxygen was distant and detached, something other that had happened years...centuries ago, and to another man.

He came powerful close there...nearly blew his first real chance at a life after the war, and his second chance at life in general. That’s what SERENITY had been...and that’s why he’d taken on what crew he had. Zoe’d been looking for hers and found it in Wash...little Kaylee got her first real chance at much of anything but life on a washed-up moon...even Jayne had a fresh start on Mal’s rickety little boat.

Book...River...Simon...Inara...they needed clean slates, too. Was the main reason Mal let ‘em board and stay, not just ‘cause Simon was a bang up doc or his sister was a helpless fong luh ninny. Inara...she paid her rent, but she had her own ghosts to run from, it was fair clear to see, and Mal saw her a lot more than he’d have liked to.

And the Shepherd...well, he knew how Mal felt about men of God.

But he was starting fresh now, in his mind...they all was. They’d be there when he woke up from whatever else Simon had to do to the gunshot in his belly.

Not a one, but all. Serenity.

All her parts.

All her people.

Muse: Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Words: 282

Now I know...right off the bat, I know. Y’all probably think you got the answer ‘fore I even give it, and a few years back? I’d have told ya you were right without a speck of hesitation or a single scrap of an argument, or anything resemblin’ one.

All right, yes...I’ll fess up to what we all know in our hearts t’ be true. The Alliance has been, and always will be, one of the biggest thorns a man could ever fear to have in his side. They a bane to my existence, and one hell of a gorram ruttin’ nuisance.

But...well, since I met the little missus? They’ve had some company in the number one spot on my list of Folk I’d Like To Kill, dong ma?

Yolanda...Saffron...Bridget...whatever name she gives ya, she’s trouble on two legs, and one of these days? I’m hopin’ she marries herself a man carryin’ some manner of nonlethal, but fair bothersome disease of passion, if you catch my meaning.

Now I know y’all probably might think there’s a bit of wounded pride talkin’ there...and y’all would be right. It’s a little more ‘n just bein’ made to look a fool. I been made to look a fool plenty of times...fair more ‘n I care to admit out loud, so I ain’t going to. But never did bein’ made a fool put my life in danger, and when I get took? It’s me that gets took, not my gorram crew. Out here in the black, crew’s closest a fella can get to family, and when that girl went and humped up my ship and nearly killed us all?

I don’t take kindly to that.

Nor do I take kindly to gettin’ left buck naked on some godforsaken moon. Even if I did near see it coming.

I been shot up and stabbed and all manner of injured...but when you wound a man’s pride...well, that’s when you done crossed the line.

Muse: Captain Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Words: 336

Death is the great leveler.

Well that right there’s gospel if I ever did hear it. I seen a lot of the Reaper during the War, and it ain’t no coincidence in my reckoning that Reavers and Reapers sound so durned alike. They got a lot in common…both are strong, both incite fear, and when you see both of ‘em coming, you run like hell if yer smart.

I seen a lotta men and how they face Death, and it’s all the same. Big or small, hard or soft, they usually beg for mercy. You can’t stop it when it comes…all you can hope for is the good fortune of a quick and painless end. Dyin’ with dignity or honor or any of that? Big pile of go se…when death comes, it’s messy and humblin’ and ugly as all get out.

Me? I’ve stared down the barrel of my fair share of guns…done my dance with Death a time or two. I’ve learned only one real thing from those confrontations…and that the old saying’s true. Hate, pride, everything that splits folks apart? Don’t mean a pile of nothin’ in the end, ‘cause when we die? We’re all afraid.

There’s only one way to go out with somethin’ under yer belt, even if it ain’t dignity or nothin’ pretty like that.

And that’s to die like a man oughta live…on yer feet.

Muse: Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Words: 226

[locked from everyone]

I don’t know your name. I ain’t even sure you got one that you can recall yourself. In the end, though, I reckon it don’t much matter, ‘cause you ain’t likely ever gonna get this here letter...it’s just one I need to write. It’s one I need for me, but that don’t mean I ain’t got a bit to say to you.

I’ve killed men before. Lots of men. I fought in the war...killed a peck of fellers that would’ve done me the same if I didn’t shoot ‘em first, dong ma? I’ve killed men in mercy...them that couldn’t get a doctor in the war, men that would’ve suffered days but for my gun. I’ve also killed men that Reavers got to...best I could do without becomin’ their next meal my own self.

I should’ve killed you...it would’ve been a kindness. But I made you watch instead...I made you see that great big scheme you was fightin’ for, knowin’ you’d be broke when it was done.

I did something what amounts to torture because you didn’t just come at me...you came at me and mine, them folks I call friends...them folks I care for.

But that ain’t even the first reason I saw fit to go for what you might have left of a soul rather than your throat, like would be merciful.

I did it ‘cause the first stop on your little journey was at the doorstep of the woman I love.

Now I wrote that there down ‘cause it’s the only way I know this letter ain’t never gonna see the light of day...I’ll carry it with me always, just to remind me of the dark place you sent me to inside myself. No eyes will ever read it ‘cause that one thing...that one bit of precious I laid out there ain’t somethin’ ever *can* be seen.

But should our paths cross again, and I do mean ever...you *will* see this letter here and you *will* read what I’m about to write.

You killed my family, and you hurt ‘em worse...and for that, sir, I will kill you...and I will kill you *slow.*

And I swear by all I do believe in, I plan to *enjoy* it.

[/locked]

Muse: Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Words: 380

He couldn’t be seen from his place in the corridor, but he could see her clear as day, arms around Wash carefully where he sat, minding the fresh wounds that would remind him of Niska long after they’d scarred.

She was beautiful...beyond beautiful, she was stunning. Full lips, legs that went on forever, perfect breasts...she was a woman and she gorram well knew it. Zoe was first and foremost a soldier, and she always would be...but she knew she was a woman, too.

And so did Mal.

So why didn’t it matter? He’d *had* a chance to bed her once...really bed her after they got good and stinking drunk in the aftermath of a successful skirmish during the war...even slept with her. Literal like...woke one morning with her head on his chest and her leg thrown over him, but the cold had gone so deep that night even the booze they’d laid into hadn’t been enough to chase away the chill. He knew good and well how Zoe felt...

...but he also knew how he felt, and not once in all the ruttin’ time he’d known her had he ever lusted for all that beauty. Admired it...been touched by it...but never once looked on her with lust.

No, that he reserved for the only woman who kept sex as her stock in trade...the one he could never have like he wanted, because it weren’t to her what it was to him: sacred.

The only woman whose body haunted him, haunted God knew how many other men, and that hurt on a level that was purt near physical.

It was why he never slept with Zoe...sex and love. He just couldn’t untangle them in his head. Even Nahndi he’d cared for, in a fashion. That pull on his spirit right along with his body...where the world melted away leaving just two bodies locked in passion.

He couldn’t have that with Inara...because the world would never melt away completely. There’d always be the next payin’ customer waiting on the sidelines...patiently biding his time until it was his turn.

Muse: Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Words: 356

Mal emerged from the bridge, heading for the mess hall where dinner was finishing up...he just hoped to high Heaven somebody had saved him a share of the fresh veggies they'd managed to get their hands on when last they hit planetside. Kaylee wasn't no Shepherd Book, but she could cook a bit, and those carrots she'd fried up looked pretty tasty when the wave had come for him over the Cortex...

When he arrived at the mess hall, he found only Inara remained, Jayne off in one corner cleaning his knives while Kaylee bustled about cleaning up from cooking.

"Just finished chattin' with Old Man Jubal on Halford." he declared, absently rubbing the back of his neck as he headed over to the kitchenette to see if his plate had been moved or not. "Looks like we got a job waitin' there if we move quick like...transportin' some grain, seems they got a shortage they're fixin' to do something about. You got any appointments that'll get interrupted with us goin', 'Nar?"

[locked to the crew of SERENITY]

If I wouldn’t pay no price for it…I’d tell her everything.

I’d tell her how bad she twisted me up inside. I’d tell her all about my night with Nahndi, and how it meant so much to me…how it was what I needed right then. I’d tell her it was everything and nothing, ‘cause it wasn’t her, and it wasn’t enough, no matter how good.

I’d let myself see her hurts, and I’d hold her when they came…hold her like she ought to be held. Wouldn’t touch her like a Companion nor a whore…I’d make her remember she was a woman, not a lady, and ought to be touched and held and loved the way a good woman deserves to be.

I’d make her remember what that’s like…to be touched like a woman, ‘cause I reckon sometimes she’s forgot. And I don’t just mean in bed…I mean to be held and touched with hands, a squeeze of comfort on her shoulder or a pat on the back. Peck on the cheek, brushin’ past too close in the galley just ‘cause a body can…the kinds of touches ain’t taught at the training house, the kind that belong to just folks.

And you bet your bobcat I’d take her to bed…I’d make her forget she ever bedded another man. I’d love her hard and slow, burn her taste and touch and warmth into my brain, and I’d make damn sure I did the same for her. I might not be the best or the most skilled she’s ever been with, but I don’t doubt I’d be the realest.

If I wouldn’t pay no price…I’d admit I love her. I’d say it in my head and in my heart and right out loud…shout it from a rooftop or two. I’d stake my claim on her so hard it’d give her a headache.

If I wouldn’t pay no price…I’d tell her the one truth about Miranda that I’ll take to my grave, more like ‘n not.

I didn’t just take on the Devil to save the ‘verse from themselves…I did it to save the ‘verse for *her.*

[/locked]


Muse: Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Words: 353

Good things ought not to hurt…least that’s what he’d been taught all his natural life. Well…most of his natural life. Some good things were supposed to hurt, like fightin’ for a cause you believed in. That could hurt something powerful, but that was the ‘standing up’ part of ‘standing up for your beliefs’…when it hurt, you stuck firm.

Mal watched the capture in his hand…the smiles and laughter as Inara packed her things. Kaylee’s bright little voice, soft and imploring…

“The Captain wants you to stay…”

It was a happy scene, and her face was the kind of thing high-falutin’ poets and writers and the like tried to capture when they plied their trade. Sculptors tried to make statues that had that grace and beauty, and men like that rat done skewered him a while back dreamed of having that much class. Her smile lit up rooms, her voice was like rubbed velvet on the ears, and she was sharp…hoo boy, was she ever sharp. When she yelled about offense and hollered about manners…facts was facts: you couldn’t knock that gorram woman over with an Alliance cruiser.

Strong, beautiful, and as nigh on to perfect as a man could find…he’d only ever seen anything that bright and shining and promising once before in his life…the day he laid eyes on SERENITY.

Good things ought not to hurt…but Inara Serra cut him deep. Soul deep.

Because good things ought not to hurt…unless you weren’t good enough to have them.


Muse: Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/SERENITY
Words: 249

( life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness... )

Muse: Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Words: 589

1) What is one thing you have learned from your past?

Mal didn’t know why he stood there...why he couldn’t move, just watch the dining hall through the doorway, a few steps back and just off to the side, where he could see but not be seen.

Everyone was inside...settled in, sprawled out, or busy doing something with themselves. Kaylee stood on a stool, fixing a light while Simon held the stool...and her, hands on her hips as she looked down to share a warm smile with him. River was giving Jayne hell, trying to mess with his knives while he was cleaning them...and over in one corner, Zoe and Inara sat talking, heads bowed in voices Mal was sure were soft enough even those in the room couldn’t hear.

He never learned...not one gorram thing. Too many times in the past, believing in anything had only ended in pain and death. He ought to know better by now...never step up, never trust, never give his heart to anything or anyone.

The learning never quite stuck in his head, though...not until his mistakes had been made and people were dead. He’d tried to change the world once in the name of freedom, in the name of a young man’s ideals and all he got for his trouble was a lot of scars...not all of ‘em branded into his worthless hide.

So he gave up the fight for freedom...or so he thought. All it took to unlearn *that* lesson was a ramshackle little Firefly class ship that promised him just that. Then came the fight not for freedom, but for the right to exist...and it was Serenity Valley all over again. Scars on his hide, scars on his soul...realizing the fact that he ought not to have ever bothered.

But that was the hell of believing in anything...no matter how useless it all was, no matter how tragic...victory’s always worth it.

Maybe that’s what ate him so...that he could see Book and Wash’s deaths and being not just necessary, but *right.* Hurt like hell, but this time he’d taken the valley...he and his careworn little band of Browncoats. The Alliance couldn’t beat them twice.

Now here he was again, believing...believing in a high-class doctor and a naive little grease monkey with a sweet smile. He had faith in an old battle ally, a mercenary, and a disturbed young woman with the secrets to Heaven and Hell locked in her brain.

And he had given more than he wanted to into the hands of a Companion...the one woman he could never trust with anything he had to offer, because it all came from the heart.

Still...looking at them all together was like looking into the past...at a young, hardheaded ex-Browncoat that saw the key to happiness in a rundown old boat meant for scrap.

Seemed like he was never meant to leave Serenity...not the valley, not the ship...and not the family.

And if he were honest with himself...which he rarely was...he knew that he didn’t want to.


2) Describe a dream that you've had. How did the dream make you feel?

A dream, huh? Well, I reckon I got a few I could spin a tale about...but I got one in particular that’s any measure of unusual...the kind of unusual worth talkin’ about, anyhow. Most dreams are pretty straightforward and whatnot...somethin’ happens to ya, and on occasion it’s in a manner not fittin’ to reality. Like the kind you get as a youngster...nightmares ‘bout showin’ up to the schoolroom in your britches, or worse, nothin’ but what nature gave ya.

Worst dream I tend to have ain’t nothin’ like that. And yes, you read me right there...I dream it often, and it’s the kind of thing that makes a man wonder if he’s just plain kwong-juh duh or something.

It’s a sound. And ain’t nothin’ but a sound.

I ain’t doin’ nothin’, and I’m sayin’ even less...all I do is dream, and all that sits in my head is a sound, so loud I come nigh on to screaming. Lasts for years, seems like, ‘til I finally wake up...sometimes shaking so bad my teeth start knockin’, sometimes damn near swimming in my own cold sweat.

Now right off the bat? I’ll tell you: that sound don’t come from Miranda. That ordeal was one I ain’t like to forget soon...but those things I saw and did and felt there, they don’t haunt my sleep. They haunt me wide-awake. It’s the kind of horror that won’t allow for bein’ buried in your brain unawares...I could point out our own little albatross real easy as a ‘for instance.’

The sound I hear comes from Serenity Valley...it’s ships overhead, our own angels gettin’ all their wings chopped off. I don’t hear Zoe tellin’ me we’ve been ordered to lay down arms, I don’t hear her sayin’ that command’s telling us to give up. I hear it in the sounds of those ships, leaving us to rot in Serenity Valley.

Now that dream, that *sound* don’t scare me ‘cause we got beat that day. Ain’t ‘cause I’m so tender hearted that the Alliance gives me such a fright, neither. I ain’t that fong luh just yet.

Reason I get so ruttin’ riled by that nightmare is ‘cause that one sound...that roar of engines overhead...that right there’s the sound of the most vile evil that a man could ever know. It’s the sound of hope not bein’ lost, but bein’ taken, ripped away from a man like it’s some piece of shiny he took that don’t belong to him.

And I’ll tell you, much as I hate any and all that call themselves friendly with the Alliance? That’s not a fate I’d wish even on the likes of them.