Fic: ...keep flying... (part three)
Aug. 16th, 2006 01:55 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
matchlightfire.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
firefly_fanfic
Further into the tale we delve!
*
Title: Keep Flying - Part Three
Author: me!![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
maantre
Word Count: 3220
Rating: PG13ish for some violence/language.
Characters: crew/Charlie
Spoilers/Timeline: This is post BDM, so if you do not wish to be spoiled please do not read!!
Disclaimer: Not my 'verse, but I like playing in it!
(all parts will be posted here @ my journal, flocked but always welcoming new friends!!)
*
Three
Mal grunted as Simon tugged on the closing stitches, making sure they would hold.
"That should do it, unless you go pulling on them and develop an infection," Simon said dryly, referring to the week before last in which the Captain'd been laid up with fever – left them with Jayne stomping, yelling about the chain of command until Zoe ordered him to his bunk and let Kaylee rig the door closed. Had been a great remainder of the week.
"I’ll try not to this time," Mal muttered and was up off the table. He eyed the girl tucked away on the far bed, glad at least to see no signs of permanent damage.
"Minor abrasions, probably from when she fell to the ground, and feet worn raw in those shoes" Simon explained without being asked. "Some skin tenderness to sun exposure, but not enough to be worrisome."
"Washed most of the dirt off her," Mal commented as he pulled on a fresh shirt, able to catalogue the delicate features and dark hair. He’d thought it to be deep brown, akin to River’s, but once the desert dirt had shaken loose it looked closer to the star dotted black pressed against Serenity’s hull when they took to space. The color reminded him of…he clamped his mind down before he could think her name and shook it from his thoughts. No need to be thinking on that one now…that kind of thought wouldn’t help nobody.
"She’s pretty dehydrated and suffering from exhaustion but the drip will stabilize her liquids and feed nutrients back into her blood," Simon finished, gesturing to the IV in her arm and the plastic pouches attached by thin tubes. Mal nodded, glad to hear it wasn’t worse.
"When'll she wake?" Simon shrugged as he dropped the used instruments into a cleansing solution, stripping off his gloves.
"Physically, there’s nothing to stop her. Probably once her levels stabilize." Mal nodded.
"I’ll send Jayne to keep an eye on her," he said as he headed for the bridge. Simon bit back a reply (something along the lines of rather being operated on with instruments that had been boiled in botulism) and busied himself with the cleanup.
Mal headed for the bridge, ready to contact the Wiley brothers with an up front and personal visual of their failed betrayal. He detoured through the cargo bay to check up on Zoe, found her examining and meticulously cleaning the harvested weapons.
"Gonna give the Wiley boys a bit of disappointing news," he said with a wicked grin and was rewarded with a slight turning of her lips. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Kaylee was hopefully repairing the board up there, tweaking outer sensors and readying them for what was surely going to be another suicide mission – the go se they had to go through for payment on job done. "Never smooth," he muttered again to himself as he climbed the stairs, mindful not to use his left arm. He passed Jayne coming out of his bunk, no doubt returning his prized Vera to her wall after their desert adventures. "Think you can keep an eye on the little one until she wakes up?" He asked, neither mistaking the order for a question.
"Make sure the doc don’t get stabbed with one of his own scalpels?" Jayne asked with a grin, enjoying the mental image.
"Something like it. Let me know when she wakes up," Mal said over his shoulder as he headed for the bridge. He entered, finding River already punching in the wave coordinates for the Wiley brothers’ base of operations. "Thanks, albatross." He said and patted her head absently and smiled at Kaylee’s legs sticking out under the console.
"Neither canine nor child." The dark haired beauty offered and he smiled in return. She was still River, still their strange and slightly crazy resident thought-reading genius – but it was all kinds of wonderful being able to get a coherent conversation out of her. Didn’t hurt to have her swoop in on more than one job just in the nick of time, either. She was a good flyer, not Wash (no one ever would be and they were slowly making their peace with that) but talented in her own ways. Like now, as a grinning Bobby Wiley’s face appeared on the screen for a moment before fading into shock.
"Well, hello there!" Mal boomed with genuine cheer as the man’s face went blank and he started blubbering (explanation or apology, a bit of both at the same time). "Why don’t we tell you how this is going to go down?"
*
Jayne grumbled good naturedly loud enough for the Captain to hear as he headed down towards the back of the ship, but really wasn’t too upset to keep watch over the new girl. Crew this small (it ripped him every time, thinking about how it had come to be so few) needed a new face every now and again – and if it were a willing woman, hell. He was glad to play nice to meetcha.
He was more excited at getting a few free shots at the prissy doc without Kaylee around to give him those dangerous eyes. Wasn’t a secret that those two were the only ones sexin’ on this heap but he only resented her now vocal protection of the man. Damn smirk on the Doc’s proper face, knowing that he wouldn’t dig at him too bad at him with Kaylee at his side. Inwardly, on a deeper layer that Mrs. Cobb’s son liked to pretend didn’t exist, he really didn’t harbor the Doc no harm. He’d stood up well under the attack, had come close to dying and still hadn’t given up. It had earned Jayne’s respect in a way that not many could.
Didn’t stop him from enjoying a little bit of fun at the man’s expense.
Swaggering into the infirmary, he couldn’t help the wide grin that crept across his jaw at Simon’s slumped shoulders. Before Jayne could utter a word the Doc shut off the basin faucet and tossed him a monitor.
"If that starts beeping, holler." With that, he ducked out of the infirmary doors, undoubtedly to find his lady. Jayne was mildly disappointed but was able to shrug it off. If anything he wasn’t one to dwell on disappointment. Especially when there was a female to look after.
She was tiny, stretching flat her feet still landed well short of the end of the cushioned counter. They were bared of the combat boots that rested on the floor next to her. Most of the dirt had been cleaned off and her skin emerged a little pink from the sun but smooth and unmarred. He absently wished that the dress offered a little bit more in way of view, but was distracted by movement on the handheld screen. Little lines were waving and jumping - no beeping. He shrugged, figuring all was fine, and moved to the opposite of the metal surgery slab to prowl through some of the Doc’s meticulously organized drawers until she stirred.
She awoke with a violent gasp while he was only on his second cabinet, sitting bolt upright and clawing the air for solid purchase… gave him a start near enough to yell. Her hair and eyes were wild, confused but clear and unmuddled by drugs. She stared at him, wordlessly, and they shared a moment of complete and shocked silence.
"Hey there, little bit, uh, no need for alarm-" She was moving before the second word had left his mouth, sliding liquidly from the bed to the floor – a little unsteady on her feet, but eyes narrowed in determination. "What’s your name?" He tried, slowly edging for the door and the com unit to let everyone know they were about to have a situation here. Her eyes moved over him coldly before resting on the sink and the tray of cleaned instruments. "Uh, hey now, why don’t you let me-" He simply stopped speaking as a slim hand darted out and snagged a wickedly sharp scalpel by the handle. Cursing inwardly, his earlier joke to the captain didn’t seem so funny right now.
She tried to move towards the doorway, gaze only dropping from his as she felt the sharp pull from the needle in her arm. Staring at the tubes for a second, with not a little confusion, she frowned before ripping the entire thing out and tossing it to the floor.
"Hey now, don’t go doing that, it’s for your own good!" He tried, keeping his voice as calm and gentle as he could manage with his stomach sinking about down to his feet. He’d never hear the end of it if this little thing got past him, not for the rest of his life. Blood welled from the hole she’d so unceremoniously plucked but she paid it no mind.
"St…stay right there," she spoke finally to him, conversationally, holding the scalpel in a firm enough grip. He could the cornered panic in the wildness of her eyes and absently wished he had thought to strap on a gun on his way down here. Weren’t expecting this kind of trouble from a slip of a girl that was supposed to be out cold from exhaustion.
Weighing his options, he settled on trying to relieve her of the scalpel first – use his size to his advantage. He honestly thought she’d pause before stabbing him with the thing. She had softness to her, tiny and pretty in that flowy dress; didn’t have the face of a stone cold killer or a moon brain. She looked like a girl who was confused and frightened. He wanted to get that knife away from her without frightening her further but without getting cut in the process.
She saw him move and reacted brilliantly, instinctively. He saw it too late to do anything about it but curse at his own stupidity. Should have gone for the com.
Her eyes narrowed and she gave a little nod, as if resigning herself to her action as her arm arced upwards in a deadly slice across his chest. He roared as the honed edge of the blade cut through his shirt and skin neatly, expertly. He had reversed once he realized that she wasn’t going to pause, leaned back and most of the tiny blade caught air instead of contact, but the sudden heat across his chest told him that enough had found its mark. She used the same balletic momentum to carry her into a complete turn, feet moving before the echo of his voice had a chance to fade from the room. Gorrammit, she’s fast, he had time to swear even as he slapped at the com, yelling to the Captain to get to the catwalk now like for an angry interception.
"Ah, we’ll be right back with this," Mal managed aggressively before ending the transmission. "What the hell…" he muttered as he turned to run for the bay. Simon stood instantly from Kaylee’s side, motioning for her to stay put, and made a beeline back to the infirmary. Jayne’s voice had sounded intact, but serious. He didn’t know where Zoe was, but knew she’d be close on the Captain’s heels. He had a contingency plan, just in case.
Charlie ran blindly from the room, stumbling past a couch and low table (with the beast’s voice surrounding her, echoing through the entire ship) before she caught a glimpse of what had to be a cargo bay. It looked like the ramp opened up on the far side (into the desert – they hadn’t taken off! Still on the ground, could still run! Escape…), but a tall warrior-looking woman was standing solidly in between her and it. She changed course instantly, knowing that the beastly one would be fast behind her (she hadn’t cut him hard enough to incapacitate; he’d been too quick for it). She fled upwards, even as every instinct in her body screamed against it – couldn’t be helped now.
The soldier woman shouted something like "Al!" (Probably the master on this bitching slaver ship, she inwardly spat) as she mounted the stairs in front of her…the big one was only half a flight behind (fast for such huge guy, she had time to think). She could get up; somehow get to the far side of the metal grating suspended above her, closer to the ramp, closer to freedom. She ached absently, bare feet on the cold metal and head pounding from earlier exertion. She shoved it aside, eyes only on the stretch of desert just outside those doors, entire body humming for flight.
She was confused, yes. She was tired, yes. But most of all, she was pissed off. She still had the scalpel and wasn’t afraid to use it. Hadn’t been so bad, really, hadn’t taken much pressure to distract him long enough to get a head start. She was a fast learner, and wasn’t naive enough to waste an advantage (couldn’t afford to, if she was going to survive…escape). She was going to get away from these hun dahns; she was going to get out into the desert and keep flying. She thanked the gods that she’d come to before they had a chance to get her off world and skidded to an abrupt stop in the middle of the catwalk.
Another man, tall, but not nearly as bulgy as the one she’d cut was in front of her, clearly intent on blocking her passage. He eyed the dripping scalpel still gripped in her right fist and smoothly drew a pistol, not aiming at her head but clear in the message that if she were to be armed he would have something to say about it. In the efforts of not getting shot before she was free of those doors, she tossed the knife away, hearing it tinkle against metal as it bounced over the grating and to the floor below. He nodded once at her, other hand a show of palm and calming motion as he carefully holstered the pistol.
She heard the large one reach the landing now, a hitched breath the only sign of his effort in the race up the stairs. She was effectively pinned between the two stair cases, metal railing the only thing keeping her from tumbling into the long space to the cargo bay floor. Two pretty faces peeked out from behind the door the gunslinger had just come through, a solemn looking brunette and a worried girl smeared with mechanical oil. They were stayed by a gesture from the gunslinger and she wondered if they were slaved to him as well. If so, they would be no help to her. She felt for them, truly, but she would die before she would surrender to the bastards her father had sold her to. Wasn’t keen on dying today though. Was going to fly again…escape.
Jayne slowly advanced from the other end of the catwalk with hands empty and raised in a gesture of harmlessness.
"Now just relax there, we don’t mean you no harm-" Jayne was doing his best to sound soothing with his chest dripping an angry maroon slash through his no longer white t-shirt.
She calculated the distances between herself and the men carefully, deciding easily that her chances of getting past either were slim to none. With a nod to herself she slipped over the bars of the railing and dangled her body freely over the edge.
"Hold it!" Mal had time to yell and freezing in place, but Jayne recognized the determination in her eyes and reacted blindingly fast. Her hands released their hold on the bar and Kaylee screamed – but before anyone even registered him moving, Jayne catapulted himself over the edge, one hand clamped firmly on the bottom flooring of the catwalk and the other around her wrist in a grip of steel. He roared as the weight of their bodies jerked painfully on his shoulder and the stretching of his torso muscles caused fresh blood to well in the wound. He refused to let her go but clearly needed both arms to haul them to safety. They were stuck in stalemate, hanging in mid air. "Zoe!" Mal hollered as he clambered for the stairs and heard her answering clatter as she started down the back ones. She’d been stealthily approaching from behind, waiting for a command. Now both raced desperately to beat gravity.
"Gorrammit girl, you woulda broke your damn neck!" Her face was calm. He wasn’t a small man, and the length of both arms extended had easily reduced the distance to the floor by another 8 feet. That, plus her 5, made the drop not so bad (her mind calculated calmly, ignoring the other possible outcomes of her jump).
"Maybe." She said with a tired smile. Then she yanked and twisted deftly from his grip, leaving him to clutch empty air as she fell soundlessly to the unforgiving floor. He watched, mouth hanging open in shock, as she curled into a protective ball before landing on top of a large crate, jarring a sharp cry of pain. She half climbed, half slid to the floor and stumbled, dazed and limping but still moving. He swore to himself, finally able to grip the railing with his other arm.
Mal still had half the staircase to go, and could tell from Zoe’s curse that she had about the same – the damnable girl was already halfway down the ramp, thin fabric of her dress and a halo of dark hair silhouetted against the dessert sun for one perfect instant before she crumpled to a graceless heap only steps from the sand. Incredibly, she tried to drag herself the last meter before turning to face a resolved (and vaguely apologetic) Simon with a tranquilizer gun in hand from across the room.
"Thanks, Doc," Mal wheezed as he and Zoe came to a wary stop a few feet from her.
"You cheated." The girl said quietly, more a statement than accusation before the guarded eyes unfocused and rolled back into their lids. She struck the ground hard enough to make Mal wince.
"What the hell d’ya hit her with, Doc?" Zoe asked as Simon hurried to her side and gently checked pulse and breathing.
"General tranquilizer - hopefully won’t provoke any allergic or adverse reaction."
"Hopefully?" Jayne grunted as he neared the bottom of the stairs.
"Hopefully." Simon said again, checking the back of her head where it had connected with the floor.
"Better not. Got a few questions for her," the big man rumbled, slapping a hand to the fresh blood on his chest. Simon sighed as Mal moved to pick her up, stopped by the pain in his shoulder.
"We’ll clean her up in the meantime. I’ll sew that up for you, too." He said, glancing at the wound. It looked pretty precise and he wondered how he’d missed a knife when he’d examined her earlier. Stooping, he slid one arm under her knees and the other under her arms while he lifted her smoothly. Kaylee was at his side then, face tight with concern. He motioned for the men to follow him, mentally preparing for round two of the day’s repairs.
*
Title: Keep Flying - Part Three
Author: me!
maantreWord Count: 3220
Rating: PG13ish for some violence/language.
Characters: crew/Charlie
Spoilers/Timeline: This is post BDM, so if you do not wish to be spoiled please do not read!!
Disclaimer: Not my 'verse, but I like playing in it!
(all parts will be posted here @ my journal, flocked but always welcoming new friends!!)
*
Three
Mal grunted as Simon tugged on the closing stitches, making sure they would hold.
"That should do it, unless you go pulling on them and develop an infection," Simon said dryly, referring to the week before last in which the Captain'd been laid up with fever – left them with Jayne stomping, yelling about the chain of command until Zoe ordered him to his bunk and let Kaylee rig the door closed. Had been a great remainder of the week.
"I’ll try not to this time," Mal muttered and was up off the table. He eyed the girl tucked away on the far bed, glad at least to see no signs of permanent damage.
"Minor abrasions, probably from when she fell to the ground, and feet worn raw in those shoes" Simon explained without being asked. "Some skin tenderness to sun exposure, but not enough to be worrisome."
"Washed most of the dirt off her," Mal commented as he pulled on a fresh shirt, able to catalogue the delicate features and dark hair. He’d thought it to be deep brown, akin to River’s, but once the desert dirt had shaken loose it looked closer to the star dotted black pressed against Serenity’s hull when they took to space. The color reminded him of…he clamped his mind down before he could think her name and shook it from his thoughts. No need to be thinking on that one now…that kind of thought wouldn’t help nobody.
"She’s pretty dehydrated and suffering from exhaustion but the drip will stabilize her liquids and feed nutrients back into her blood," Simon finished, gesturing to the IV in her arm and the plastic pouches attached by thin tubes. Mal nodded, glad to hear it wasn’t worse.
"When'll she wake?" Simon shrugged as he dropped the used instruments into a cleansing solution, stripping off his gloves.
"Physically, there’s nothing to stop her. Probably once her levels stabilize." Mal nodded.
"I’ll send Jayne to keep an eye on her," he said as he headed for the bridge. Simon bit back a reply (something along the lines of rather being operated on with instruments that had been boiled in botulism) and busied himself with the cleanup.
Mal headed for the bridge, ready to contact the Wiley brothers with an up front and personal visual of their failed betrayal. He detoured through the cargo bay to check up on Zoe, found her examining and meticulously cleaning the harvested weapons.
"Gonna give the Wiley boys a bit of disappointing news," he said with a wicked grin and was rewarded with a slight turning of her lips. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Kaylee was hopefully repairing the board up there, tweaking outer sensors and readying them for what was surely going to be another suicide mission – the go se they had to go through for payment on job done. "Never smooth," he muttered again to himself as he climbed the stairs, mindful not to use his left arm. He passed Jayne coming out of his bunk, no doubt returning his prized Vera to her wall after their desert adventures. "Think you can keep an eye on the little one until she wakes up?" He asked, neither mistaking the order for a question.
"Make sure the doc don’t get stabbed with one of his own scalpels?" Jayne asked with a grin, enjoying the mental image.
"Something like it. Let me know when she wakes up," Mal said over his shoulder as he headed for the bridge. He entered, finding River already punching in the wave coordinates for the Wiley brothers’ base of operations. "Thanks, albatross." He said and patted her head absently and smiled at Kaylee’s legs sticking out under the console.
"Neither canine nor child." The dark haired beauty offered and he smiled in return. She was still River, still their strange and slightly crazy resident thought-reading genius – but it was all kinds of wonderful being able to get a coherent conversation out of her. Didn’t hurt to have her swoop in on more than one job just in the nick of time, either. She was a good flyer, not Wash (no one ever would be and they were slowly making their peace with that) but talented in her own ways. Like now, as a grinning Bobby Wiley’s face appeared on the screen for a moment before fading into shock.
"Well, hello there!" Mal boomed with genuine cheer as the man’s face went blank and he started blubbering (explanation or apology, a bit of both at the same time). "Why don’t we tell you how this is going to go down?"
*
Jayne grumbled good naturedly loud enough for the Captain to hear as he headed down towards the back of the ship, but really wasn’t too upset to keep watch over the new girl. Crew this small (it ripped him every time, thinking about how it had come to be so few) needed a new face every now and again – and if it were a willing woman, hell. He was glad to play nice to meetcha.
He was more excited at getting a few free shots at the prissy doc without Kaylee around to give him those dangerous eyes. Wasn’t a secret that those two were the only ones sexin’ on this heap but he only resented her now vocal protection of the man. Damn smirk on the Doc’s proper face, knowing that he wouldn’t dig at him too bad at him with Kaylee at his side. Inwardly, on a deeper layer that Mrs. Cobb’s son liked to pretend didn’t exist, he really didn’t harbor the Doc no harm. He’d stood up well under the attack, had come close to dying and still hadn’t given up. It had earned Jayne’s respect in a way that not many could.
Didn’t stop him from enjoying a little bit of fun at the man’s expense.
Swaggering into the infirmary, he couldn’t help the wide grin that crept across his jaw at Simon’s slumped shoulders. Before Jayne could utter a word the Doc shut off the basin faucet and tossed him a monitor.
"If that starts beeping, holler." With that, he ducked out of the infirmary doors, undoubtedly to find his lady. Jayne was mildly disappointed but was able to shrug it off. If anything he wasn’t one to dwell on disappointment. Especially when there was a female to look after.
She was tiny, stretching flat her feet still landed well short of the end of the cushioned counter. They were bared of the combat boots that rested on the floor next to her. Most of the dirt had been cleaned off and her skin emerged a little pink from the sun but smooth and unmarred. He absently wished that the dress offered a little bit more in way of view, but was distracted by movement on the handheld screen. Little lines were waving and jumping - no beeping. He shrugged, figuring all was fine, and moved to the opposite of the metal surgery slab to prowl through some of the Doc’s meticulously organized drawers until she stirred.
She awoke with a violent gasp while he was only on his second cabinet, sitting bolt upright and clawing the air for solid purchase… gave him a start near enough to yell. Her hair and eyes were wild, confused but clear and unmuddled by drugs. She stared at him, wordlessly, and they shared a moment of complete and shocked silence.
"Hey there, little bit, uh, no need for alarm-" She was moving before the second word had left his mouth, sliding liquidly from the bed to the floor – a little unsteady on her feet, but eyes narrowed in determination. "What’s your name?" He tried, slowly edging for the door and the com unit to let everyone know they were about to have a situation here. Her eyes moved over him coldly before resting on the sink and the tray of cleaned instruments. "Uh, hey now, why don’t you let me-" He simply stopped speaking as a slim hand darted out and snagged a wickedly sharp scalpel by the handle. Cursing inwardly, his earlier joke to the captain didn’t seem so funny right now.
She tried to move towards the doorway, gaze only dropping from his as she felt the sharp pull from the needle in her arm. Staring at the tubes for a second, with not a little confusion, she frowned before ripping the entire thing out and tossing it to the floor.
"Hey now, don’t go doing that, it’s for your own good!" He tried, keeping his voice as calm and gentle as he could manage with his stomach sinking about down to his feet. He’d never hear the end of it if this little thing got past him, not for the rest of his life. Blood welled from the hole she’d so unceremoniously plucked but she paid it no mind.
"St…stay right there," she spoke finally to him, conversationally, holding the scalpel in a firm enough grip. He could the cornered panic in the wildness of her eyes and absently wished he had thought to strap on a gun on his way down here. Weren’t expecting this kind of trouble from a slip of a girl that was supposed to be out cold from exhaustion.
Weighing his options, he settled on trying to relieve her of the scalpel first – use his size to his advantage. He honestly thought she’d pause before stabbing him with the thing. She had softness to her, tiny and pretty in that flowy dress; didn’t have the face of a stone cold killer or a moon brain. She looked like a girl who was confused and frightened. He wanted to get that knife away from her without frightening her further but without getting cut in the process.
She saw him move and reacted brilliantly, instinctively. He saw it too late to do anything about it but curse at his own stupidity. Should have gone for the com.
Her eyes narrowed and she gave a little nod, as if resigning herself to her action as her arm arced upwards in a deadly slice across his chest. He roared as the honed edge of the blade cut through his shirt and skin neatly, expertly. He had reversed once he realized that she wasn’t going to pause, leaned back and most of the tiny blade caught air instead of contact, but the sudden heat across his chest told him that enough had found its mark. She used the same balletic momentum to carry her into a complete turn, feet moving before the echo of his voice had a chance to fade from the room. Gorrammit, she’s fast, he had time to swear even as he slapped at the com, yelling to the Captain to get to the catwalk now like for an angry interception.
"Ah, we’ll be right back with this," Mal managed aggressively before ending the transmission. "What the hell…" he muttered as he turned to run for the bay. Simon stood instantly from Kaylee’s side, motioning for her to stay put, and made a beeline back to the infirmary. Jayne’s voice had sounded intact, but serious. He didn’t know where Zoe was, but knew she’d be close on the Captain’s heels. He had a contingency plan, just in case.
Charlie ran blindly from the room, stumbling past a couch and low table (with the beast’s voice surrounding her, echoing through the entire ship) before she caught a glimpse of what had to be a cargo bay. It looked like the ramp opened up on the far side (into the desert – they hadn’t taken off! Still on the ground, could still run! Escape…), but a tall warrior-looking woman was standing solidly in between her and it. She changed course instantly, knowing that the beastly one would be fast behind her (she hadn’t cut him hard enough to incapacitate; he’d been too quick for it). She fled upwards, even as every instinct in her body screamed against it – couldn’t be helped now.
The soldier woman shouted something like "Al!" (Probably the master on this bitching slaver ship, she inwardly spat) as she mounted the stairs in front of her…the big one was only half a flight behind (fast for such huge guy, she had time to think). She could get up; somehow get to the far side of the metal grating suspended above her, closer to the ramp, closer to freedom. She ached absently, bare feet on the cold metal and head pounding from earlier exertion. She shoved it aside, eyes only on the stretch of desert just outside those doors, entire body humming for flight.
She was confused, yes. She was tired, yes. But most of all, she was pissed off. She still had the scalpel and wasn’t afraid to use it. Hadn’t been so bad, really, hadn’t taken much pressure to distract him long enough to get a head start. She was a fast learner, and wasn’t naive enough to waste an advantage (couldn’t afford to, if she was going to survive…escape). She was going to get away from these hun dahns; she was going to get out into the desert and keep flying. She thanked the gods that she’d come to before they had a chance to get her off world and skidded to an abrupt stop in the middle of the catwalk.
Another man, tall, but not nearly as bulgy as the one she’d cut was in front of her, clearly intent on blocking her passage. He eyed the dripping scalpel still gripped in her right fist and smoothly drew a pistol, not aiming at her head but clear in the message that if she were to be armed he would have something to say about it. In the efforts of not getting shot before she was free of those doors, she tossed the knife away, hearing it tinkle against metal as it bounced over the grating and to the floor below. He nodded once at her, other hand a show of palm and calming motion as he carefully holstered the pistol.
She heard the large one reach the landing now, a hitched breath the only sign of his effort in the race up the stairs. She was effectively pinned between the two stair cases, metal railing the only thing keeping her from tumbling into the long space to the cargo bay floor. Two pretty faces peeked out from behind the door the gunslinger had just come through, a solemn looking brunette and a worried girl smeared with mechanical oil. They were stayed by a gesture from the gunslinger and she wondered if they were slaved to him as well. If so, they would be no help to her. She felt for them, truly, but she would die before she would surrender to the bastards her father had sold her to. Wasn’t keen on dying today though. Was going to fly again…escape.
Jayne slowly advanced from the other end of the catwalk with hands empty and raised in a gesture of harmlessness.
"Now just relax there, we don’t mean you no harm-" Jayne was doing his best to sound soothing with his chest dripping an angry maroon slash through his no longer white t-shirt.
She calculated the distances between herself and the men carefully, deciding easily that her chances of getting past either were slim to none. With a nod to herself she slipped over the bars of the railing and dangled her body freely over the edge.
"Hold it!" Mal had time to yell and freezing in place, but Jayne recognized the determination in her eyes and reacted blindingly fast. Her hands released their hold on the bar and Kaylee screamed – but before anyone even registered him moving, Jayne catapulted himself over the edge, one hand clamped firmly on the bottom flooring of the catwalk and the other around her wrist in a grip of steel. He roared as the weight of their bodies jerked painfully on his shoulder and the stretching of his torso muscles caused fresh blood to well in the wound. He refused to let her go but clearly needed both arms to haul them to safety. They were stuck in stalemate, hanging in mid air. "Zoe!" Mal hollered as he clambered for the stairs and heard her answering clatter as she started down the back ones. She’d been stealthily approaching from behind, waiting for a command. Now both raced desperately to beat gravity.
"Gorrammit girl, you woulda broke your damn neck!" Her face was calm. He wasn’t a small man, and the length of both arms extended had easily reduced the distance to the floor by another 8 feet. That, plus her 5, made the drop not so bad (her mind calculated calmly, ignoring the other possible outcomes of her jump).
"Maybe." She said with a tired smile. Then she yanked and twisted deftly from his grip, leaving him to clutch empty air as she fell soundlessly to the unforgiving floor. He watched, mouth hanging open in shock, as she curled into a protective ball before landing on top of a large crate, jarring a sharp cry of pain. She half climbed, half slid to the floor and stumbled, dazed and limping but still moving. He swore to himself, finally able to grip the railing with his other arm.
Mal still had half the staircase to go, and could tell from Zoe’s curse that she had about the same – the damnable girl was already halfway down the ramp, thin fabric of her dress and a halo of dark hair silhouetted against the dessert sun for one perfect instant before she crumpled to a graceless heap only steps from the sand. Incredibly, she tried to drag herself the last meter before turning to face a resolved (and vaguely apologetic) Simon with a tranquilizer gun in hand from across the room.
"Thanks, Doc," Mal wheezed as he and Zoe came to a wary stop a few feet from her.
"You cheated." The girl said quietly, more a statement than accusation before the guarded eyes unfocused and rolled back into their lids. She struck the ground hard enough to make Mal wince.
"What the hell d’ya hit her with, Doc?" Zoe asked as Simon hurried to her side and gently checked pulse and breathing.
"General tranquilizer - hopefully won’t provoke any allergic or adverse reaction."
"Hopefully?" Jayne grunted as he neared the bottom of the stairs.
"Hopefully." Simon said again, checking the back of her head where it had connected with the floor.
"Better not. Got a few questions for her," the big man rumbled, slapping a hand to the fresh blood on his chest. Simon sighed as Mal moved to pick her up, stopped by the pain in his shoulder.
"We’ll clean her up in the meantime. I’ll sew that up for you, too." He said, glancing at the wound. It looked pretty precise and he wondered how he’d missed a knife when he’d examined her earlier. Stooping, he slid one arm under her knees and the other under her arms while he lifted her smoothly. Kaylee was at his side then, face tight with concern. He motioned for the men to follow him, mentally preparing for round two of the day’s repairs.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-16 04:29 pm (UTC)*dances*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-16 05:06 pm (UTC):) [cuddles you]
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-16 05:31 pm (UTC)