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Title: Faith on the Drift: Prologue
Fandom: Firefly/American Gods
Rating: PG, more or less
Word Count: 590
Characters: Mal
Summary: Post-BDM. An idea that’s been bouncing around in my head since![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sophiap brought it up some time ago, but never really solidified into anything until I want the CSTS screening earlier in the month.
It happened, of course. Mal wasn’t exactly surprised, but he sure as hell wasn’t happy about it. They weren’t mentioned by name, no waves sent out for them, no warrants, no description, but rumor still got out somehow. And now they were the biggest of the big damned heroes. Damnedest of them, too. Because now everywhere they went, it was always them surrounded by talk of a Firefly-class vessel what had an Alliance and Reaver fleet clashing in an ion storm. Always about how they had crossed the threshold of death and shook the Alliance to the core. No one could touch them, now. Not when Mal and his crew brought Truth wherever they went.
Mal didn’t care much for Truth. He cared about getting jobs done. Hell, he cared about getting jobs. Which he weren’t getting much of, now. Even Inara was hitting a dry spell because of them and there were times when Mal would be sitting off somewhere doing captainly things that he’d see how much money they had. And what parts Kaylee said they really couldn’t go without next time they hit port. And Doc about which medical dohickey they needed and Zoe making a passing comment about some supply or other running low and Jayne with his always pressing ‘When in ruttin’ hell am I gettin’ paid’ talk.
The only ones that didn’t seem to want some part of him were River and Inara. But Mal knew River was already aware of the worry about money that ate at him daily and Inara never needed to say anything. He could read the words in her eyes. Or maybe the words he wanted her to say in her eyes. Mal never really paid much attention to psycho-babble nonesuch. River probably saw the words in his head anyway.
But no one would touch them now. Because they were the only ones gorram insane enough to fly through Reaver territory- twice, mind –to find a black rock, the secrets kept on it, wage war against the government proper and let everyone else know that secret. And now all the people that ever kept friendly with them were dead. And all the people that weren’t friendly with them weren’t about to take that chance. Because the government was still out there, still in power, and was just looking to bid their time before they took another stab at the crew and the girl.
Sometimes Mal wonders if he would’ve gone through all that if he knew what all it would’ve cost him in the end and continue to cost him. Except he knows it’s a stupid thing to wonder because the answer is always yes, even before the question was asked.
Inara should probably go back to her training hall, he decided. She’d be more comfortable there than on a ship what’s about to go derelict if they don’t find a job of some sort.
Mal never asked her if she wanted to. Not after the first time. If she made up her mind one way or another, he didn’t want to know.
Mal pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. They can’t keep going like this and they all knew it, too. And that just made it worse.
What it all comes down to. What it all, in the end, well and truly comes down to, is that Mal hopes to the high heavens he’s got enough money on him once he hits port next for at least one drink. Hell if all knows he's earned one.
Title: Faith on the Drift: Prologue
Fandom: Firefly/American Gods
Rating: PG, more or less
Word Count: 590
Characters: Mal
Summary: Post-BDM. An idea that’s been bouncing around in my head since
sophiap brought it up some time ago, but never really solidified into anything until I want the CSTS screening earlier in the month.It happened, of course. Mal wasn’t exactly surprised, but he sure as hell wasn’t happy about it. They weren’t mentioned by name, no waves sent out for them, no warrants, no description, but rumor still got out somehow. And now they were the biggest of the big damned heroes. Damnedest of them, too. Because now everywhere they went, it was always them surrounded by talk of a Firefly-class vessel what had an Alliance and Reaver fleet clashing in an ion storm. Always about how they had crossed the threshold of death and shook the Alliance to the core. No one could touch them, now. Not when Mal and his crew brought Truth wherever they went.
Mal didn’t care much for Truth. He cared about getting jobs done. Hell, he cared about getting jobs. Which he weren’t getting much of, now. Even Inara was hitting a dry spell because of them and there were times when Mal would be sitting off somewhere doing captainly things that he’d see how much money they had. And what parts Kaylee said they really couldn’t go without next time they hit port. And Doc about which medical dohickey they needed and Zoe making a passing comment about some supply or other running low and Jayne with his always pressing ‘When in ruttin’ hell am I gettin’ paid’ talk.
The only ones that didn’t seem to want some part of him were River and Inara. But Mal knew River was already aware of the worry about money that ate at him daily and Inara never needed to say anything. He could read the words in her eyes. Or maybe the words he wanted her to say in her eyes. Mal never really paid much attention to psycho-babble nonesuch. River probably saw the words in his head anyway.
But no one would touch them now. Because they were the only ones gorram insane enough to fly through Reaver territory- twice, mind –to find a black rock, the secrets kept on it, wage war against the government proper and let everyone else know that secret. And now all the people that ever kept friendly with them were dead. And all the people that weren’t friendly with them weren’t about to take that chance. Because the government was still out there, still in power, and was just looking to bid their time before they took another stab at the crew and the girl.
Sometimes Mal wonders if he would’ve gone through all that if he knew what all it would’ve cost him in the end and continue to cost him. Except he knows it’s a stupid thing to wonder because the answer is always yes, even before the question was asked.
Inara should probably go back to her training hall, he decided. She’d be more comfortable there than on a ship what’s about to go derelict if they don’t find a job of some sort.
Mal never asked her if she wanted to. Not after the first time. If she made up her mind one way or another, he didn’t want to know.
Mal pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. They can’t keep going like this and they all knew it, too. And that just made it worse.
What it all comes down to. What it all, in the end, well and truly comes down to, is that Mal hopes to the high heavens he’s got enough money on him once he hits port next for at least one drink. Hell if all knows he's earned one.
