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the board has decided to close four buildings and pink slip teachers and various and sundry support staff. kids are losing it at the end of a long, long year. two hour meeting after school today. parent-teacher conferences tomorrow night.
i haven't been able to write a thing not school related in forever. i haven't read anything not school related in about that long. and while i thought i hadn't decided whether or not to post any of my fic here, while i was trolling through my stuff between bouts of grading, i thought why not?
so here it is. crossover farscape/firefly fic from my fic writing days gone by.
Title: Fly Me to the Moons
Author: sarahjane
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Farscape/Firefly
Spoilers: Post PKW and Serenity
Author's Notes: This is what you get when I go cruising links in LJ land. Thanks to hossgal for the idea that just seemed too good not to gank…uhm, pursue. A huge shout out to Eva for the beta and for allowing me to pick her brain. Much love to my reviewers, Susan and Maria for their encouragement and enthusiasm.
As always, all mistakes remain mine.
Disclaimer: Definitely not mine. They belong to bigger, better, more brilliant people than me. No copyright infringement intended. There is definitely no money being made.
********************
He pushes through the door easy as you please, shakes off the rain as sharp eyes rake the room. It’s not much dimmer inside than the dark grey excuse for noon outside; and the bar is full up. Too full for his taste, but he’s got business to tend to in this miserable excuse for an outpost.
And he aims to do just that.
She’s sitting where she should be, where he told her to be. Back booth, corner.
He locks his eyes on her as long, deceptively loose-limbed strides walk him back through the maze of tables where the murmuring of clients and providers and deals being done hums like a bassline for his thoughts.
Three steps past the couple sitting at the table just to the side of hers he slides easily into the booth. Steel-blue eyes pin him in place, examine him for intentions as he lays his hands flat, palms down on the table top.
She wraps elegant fingers that seem to have a life of their own around her bottle, lifts it to full lips and takes a long pull. Setting it back down in its own water ring, she leans forward, arms crossed and resting on the table. “It must be interesting.”
He settles back in his seat. “What?”
The corner of her mouth torques to the left. “This job.”
The barmaid’s bored question cuts between them. “What can I get you?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off her blue-grey ones. “What she’s having.”
She slips away without a word, slapping wayward hands off her ass as she winds her way back to the bar.
He leans forward and cocks his head. “What brings you to that conclusion?”
She tilts her head in a slight nod toward the couple at the next table. “You brought company.”
His lips flatten out in tight smile. “It’s a bad part of town.”
“And yet here we are.” She knocks back another swallow. “Which brings me back to my original observation.”
He raises his eyebrows and lowers his voice. “And that would be?”
“That this job is more interesting than say…your ship.”
His head jerks slightly in an unpleasant way and his eyes narrow as the barmaid buzzes their booth and drops off his drink. “What’s wrong with my ship?”
She lifts a careless shoulder. “Nothing.”
“Have you even seen my ship?” His voice is tight and his eyebrow twitches as he takes a hit off his bottle.
“It’s in port.”
He thinks she scores points for that. “Lotta ships in port. How’d you know which one was mine?”
The full lips pull back in a smile that reaches her eyes. “It was the least interesting one in port.”
That gets his back up. “She’s a fine ship.”
“I’m sure she is.” She shrugs again. “A fine ship needs a fine pilot.”
A small smirk tugs at his lips. “And you think you’re that pilot?”
“What happened to your last pilot?”
The smirk shuts down as he rolls his bottle between his hands. “Why?”
“Did he get a better offer?” She leans forward and lowers her voice. “Did he have a falling out with the crew? Was he stealing…”
Mal’s eyes flick to Zoë and back, knowing she can hear. “He died.”
“In his bunk or in his seat?”
His fingers tighten around his bottle. “In his seat.”
“On a job or…”
He knocks the image out of his mind and pins her with a glare and soft words. “He died making sure we got where we needed to be.”
Hooded eyes focus on him. “That’s good to know.”
“Takin’ his place is a tall order to fill.”
She tilts her head and repeats herself. “A fine ship needs a fine pilot.”
“And you think you’re that pilot?”
“I know I’m that pilot.”
He raises his bottle and tilts it toward her. “Now that would be up to me.”
She slides her eyes toward Zoë. “And her.”
“You ask a lot of questions. My turn now.” He sets his bottle down and mouths his words clear and crisp. “You wanna share some of those reasons you think you’re my new pilot? You got some skills or qualifications?”
A small, sad smile paints itself on her lips. “Not that it will mean anything to you, but I was a Prowler pilot born and bred.” She lifts a slender shoulder and recites. “Pleiser Regiment, Icarion Company. Elite.”
He knows that just by looking at her, recognizes elite. “Why’d you leave?”
The smile bleeds through to her eyes. “I made a…choice.”
Mal runs that through his mind, contemplates the implications. “What have you been doing since then?”
She shrugs. “More.”
He snorts an explosive exhale and points an index finger toward her. “Now, this is me gettin’ tetchy. Why should I bother even thinkin’ of hirin’ you on?
She smiles again, a real one this time, and it lights up her face. “Let’s go for a ride.”
********************
He watches her walk up the ramp just a step ahead of him. Long, lethal lines wrapped tight in black leather, long, ebony waterfall of hair that tumbles down her back. She moves like Zoë and he thinks she scores points for that too.
She walks into the cockpit and slips easily into the pilot’s seat, settling in like a hand in glove. Strong, slender fingers dance over the panel as he settles in the second seat.
He slides his eyes to the side and sees her pale, perfect face alive in the glow of the cockpit’s lights. He feels the engine’s thrum and surge and watches as her hands wrap the yoke.
Smooth as silk they’re up, free and flying.
********************
Her fingers caress the controls, making minute adjustments as they fly nape of the planet. He knows that if he closes his eyes it could be Wash sitting there nice and easy, making them soar like a leaf in the wind.
He wonders how Zoë will feel about that.
She’s put on quite a show, a tactical wonder, pitching and rolling and pulling Gs. He’s made his decision long before she snaps to her last vector and brings them down to meet the ground.
“Job’s yours.”
“Not so fast.” She doesn’t look at him as she powers down. “There are…considerations I require.”
Tight-lipped and edgy, his eyes narrow. “What kinda considerations?”
She turns her head and arches an eyebrow. “I’m not alone.”
His lips twitch to the left and his words come low and slow. “And that means…what exactly?”
“I have a child…”
He throws up his hands, palms out. “This ain’t no nursery.”
“You need a pilot. I need passage.”
“This ain’t no place…”
“No, it’s not.” Razor-sharp words cut him off. “But it is…what is.” Her voice, glass-edged and just a little glazed, floats between them. “I don’t see the problem.”
“Can’t have a child runnin’ loose on my ship.”
“We’ll take care of that.”
“We?”
“My…traveling companion and I.”
“You got a child and a…traveling companion.” His fingers beat a little tattoo on his thigh and he thinks that sounds just a little too gorramn much like the last little family he took in. “Anybody…or anything else I should know about?”
“No. That’s it.” She rests cool blue eyes on him. “Is the job still mine?”
“If you want it.”
********************
Jayne shakes his head and sends water flying. “You wanna tell me again just how come we’re so humped we gotta take on a kid?”
“You mean as a courtesy?” His fingers curl loosely around his holster. “No.”
“She coming or what?”
She materializes out of the darkening gloom and it takes him a minute to register that the bundle in her arms is her child. He has no idea what the gorramn ugly green thing hovering at her side is.
“About time,” Mal growls. “And what the hell is that?”
“This,” she says, reaching out to clamp a hand over the green thing’s mouth, “is Dominar Rygel the Sixteenth.”
Jayne tilts his head and leans in. “That some kinda pet?”
She pulls Rygel back and tight in close to her. “No. But he does bite.”
Jayne reaches out and stabs a finger in Rygel’s direction. “I ain’t…”
The child in her arms shifts under his blanket and the green thing moves quicker than Jayne realizes, sinking its teeth in the fleshy part of his finger.
Jayne’s free hand wraps itself around the green thing’s neck as Aeryn’s comes up in one fluid motion, the barrel of her pistol resting square against Jayne’s forehead as she puts her body between him and the child.
Shifting the baby more securely on her hip, she levels clear, calm eyes on the man. “Let him go.”
Jayne drops his hand, palm out. “Get it off.”
“Rygel.”
Disengaging with a snarl, the green thing sputters and straightens his robes as it hovers just out of Jayne’s reach.
“I told you he bites.” She pulls back her pistol but doesn’t holster it.
“Barbarian,” Rygel spits on his way past Jayne.
“Backbirth.”
Mal snorts hard as he shoves Jayne up the ramp. “Now, as entertainin’ as this’s been, time’s wasting.
He moves to the side to let her pass, hand still resting lightly on his holster as he follows her into the ship.
********************
She rolls her shoulders and cracks her neck, lets the tension bleed off as she watches her son sleep. It’s late in the sleep cycle, or whatever it is they call it here, and she is beyond exhausted, wants nothing more than to join him.
She unzips her vest and reaches for the chain that disappears under her shirt. Pulling it out, she fingers the rings that rest at the end. She allows herself a long heartbeat before sliding them back under her shirt as she hears the soft sound just outside their quarters.
Her hand rests at her hip, fingers hooked in her belt as she steps silently into the hallway.
Standing stiff and still, Zoë’s clear, wide eyes meet her. “Just came to see if you got settled all right.”
“Yes. We did.”
Tilting her head, her entire body softens just a touch as she rests liquid eyes on the sleeping child. “You got everything you need for the baby?”
Aeryn follows her line of sight. “We’re fine for now. Thank you.”
Zoë’s voice floats soft in the stillness of the hall. “He looks like you.”
“He’s got his father’s eyes.” A small, sad smile tugs at Aeryn’s lips as she slides her eyes from her child to the woman standing across from her. “I’m sorry he’s gone.”
She stiffens again as she runs her eyes over her newest crewmate. “You’ve lost yours?”
“Not lost.” Aeryn lips tighten and her eyebrows furrow as she looks for the right words. “Just temporarily misplaced.”
“You’re looking for him.”
She snorts softly. “It’s more likely the other way around.”
Zoë flicks her gaze between the child and his mother. “It’s a big ‘verse out there.”
Aeryn’s lips twitch to the left. “Bigger than you think.”
“You think he’ll find you?”
The twitch becomes a full blown grin. “He’s very good at finding me.” She shrugs a casual shoulder. “Until then…”
A small smile paints its way across Zoë’s full lips. “You need a place to be.”
Aeryn nods. “And you need a pilot.”
“You’ll make sure we fly true.”
It’s a statement not a question, and with a last glance at the baby, she spins on her heel and heads down the corridor.
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Date: 2009-07-09 04:22 am (UTC)From:i'm very happy to encourage.