A Blast From The Past - Part 2
Monday, June 12, 2006

An old friend of Mal's, tries to confront him, and her own past. This is my second fic. All suggestions accepted. More parts to come.


I strongly recommend that you read my first fic first:

A Blast From The Past Part 1

Also like to thank my beta's spacefulofobjects, Agent rusco and numerous others for their continous support and comments. ___________________________________________________

Jorja awoke dazed and confused, unsure of where she was or even why she was there. She tried to reach up, but she couldn't, her hands were cuffed behind her back.

She lifted her head, it throbbed with pain. Peering around the room she tried to absorb her surroundings. The room was small, and very clean, not a speck of dirt to be seen. It came to her; she knew where she was now, an Alliance interrogation room.

"How did I get here?" She thought to herself, closing her eyes, searching the memories. She tried desperately to remember, but the more she dug into her thoughts, the more pain she had to endure. She distantly recalled the scene at the grave, talking to Mal then the Alliance ships.

"Great. My head hurts, I can't move, what else could possibly happen?" she murmured to herself as the door to the room flung open.

Standing there was a man of average build, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. She pondered, "If only my hands were free, I could easily take out this punk"

"Good, you're awake. My name is Frank Harris, and you are?" Inquired the man as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Rookie," She thought to herself as she wiggled in her cuffs, trying to free herself and then replied, "Not bad considering the circumstances."

"You're name, my dear?" Frank asked, puzzled at her lack of response.

Not wanting to reveal her true name, she replied with the first name that came to mind, "Jane, Jane Doe."

"What is your REAL name woman?" Frank replied visibly becoming upset by her lying distractions.

"All right then. Eve, as in Adam and Eve." She replied, trying to keep a straight face. "He won't crack me, no one has yet." She thought, remembering her training with the Alliance.

Frank became enraged, his displeasure for Jorja's responses taking their toll. With a deep breath, he tried once more, "This is your last chance sweetheart, give me your name, your REAL name."

"The Alliance must be getting slack or enforcing cutbacks cause this guy couldn't crack a peanut," she thought to herself but continued to play along.

"Well because you said please... I won't tell you. After all what are you gonna do, Hit Me?" She prodded.

Blackness took her again, as his fist struck her face.

Coming too, she could feel a stream of blood running down her face as she came to. A fire erupted in her eyes as she stared at him. "How dare he make me bleed, no one gets away with hitting me!" She thought to herself, those thoughts shooting out like daggers towards him.

"Next question, Why did you do it?" Frank continued to interrogate.

Jorja noticed a bandage on his right hand. She looked at him as she muddled through the seconds before Frank knocked her out, "Did I crack?" Jorja wondered. "Nah, he's messin' with me. I couldn't have. Could I?"

"What happened to the last question?" She jeered, her face expressionless, "Gave up huh?"

"Nope, Miss O'Neill, I've got all I need." Frank replied holding a firm, unreadable stare.

He knew her name. "How?" She thought to herself, wondering if she'd missed something during the interrogation.

"How weak!" Frank snapped at her silent response, "You were so good at what you did, and look at you now, a bartender, serving poison to scum browncoat leftovers." "The only scum, in MY, bar are the you stinkin’ Purplebellies that come in." She remarked back to him. "Why you so interested anyway? Did I kill someone you knew?"

Her remark was met with another square punch to the face, causing her to go unconscious again.

Jorja awoke again, this time to the sound of a large explosion. She felt that blood had again become crusted on the side of her face. Scanning the room she was surprised to see that her assailant was no longer in the room. All she saw was a large hologram, showing a battle from the war, a battle she knew all to well, The Battle of Halaesus. She remembered her purpose in the particular battle was to seek out and kill any Independent officers she could find. Continuing to watch the hologram, she hoped it would lead her to finding an answer as to why she was being so brutally interrogated. Quickly, her memories revealed to her that the footage was taken from her helmet cam, which she had been required to wear during her missions.

It didn’t take long for her to recall that horrible day as she watched.


Gunfire erupted all around her. Boom! A building to the left exploded, she continued stealthily through the rubble of destruction. She didn't even blink; a single explosion wasn’t going to deter her from killing her target. Two bullets whizzed past her, inches away from a direct hit. Without even looking in the direction they came from, she drew her gun and shot to the left, her focus still remained on the target. She advanced slowly, but steadily towards the target. A young Independent soldier returning fire at Alliance soldiers to her right. She shot to her right. She didn't need to look at either of the minor targets; She knew she had made the mark that was part of her fifteen years of training with the Alliance.

Further explosions erupted on the battlefield, as Jorja maintained her focus on the target that was ahead of her, a young Independent Sergeant. Not many officers were left in the Independent Army, most had either been killed or run away, but this one was strong, smart and a born leader.

She proceeded only to have static cracklings of her COM break the silence. She ducked behind a wrecked shuttle and waited, hoping her cover wasn’t blown. Two more explosions rattled the ground. Once the dust from the explosions settled, Jorja left her cover and quietly snuck behind the target. A surprise attack, at least it was supposed to be.

She was less than a few meters from the target when her COM’s rattled through again, still muffled and crackling, she struggled to switch it off. The switch was stuck and her cover was blown.

Standing in front of her was the target; he had spun around to see where the ear-wrenching noise had come from. They stood silently reading each other. She peered into the gorram, soul breaking eyes of Malcolm Reynolds, her best friend from her childhood. His eyes peered down into the depths of her body and released a flood of memories, memories she had wanted to keep locked away.

"Jorja, is that you?" Mal questioned, surprised to see her standing before him. Staring at her iconic purple Alliance uniform, his eyes began to darken and enrage, not at her, but the uniform. She returned his stare, her eyes studying his symbolic browncoat of the Independents.

"Not you, too," Jorja thought to herself, hoping that Mal hadn’t joined her father’s browncoat army to get her back as well. Jorja’s father joined the Independent Army to seek revenge against the Alliance, for taking her.

Her COM came through again, clearer and quieter. Quiet enough that Mal did not hear the message that rattled through her ear.

"Shoot him, Jorja, he's one of them," the COM ordered, "Shoot him or I WILL."

She removed her stare from Mal, scanning the battlefield, high and low for a sniper. He was nowhere in sight. Unable to locate the sniper, she returned her gaze to Mal, he had noticed her distraction and was also skimming the horizon.

"JORJA!!" the COM screamed in her ear, "SHOOT HIM OR I WILL!"

A distressed look fell upon her face and her body began to tremble as she contemplated shooting Mal, "He’s my friend. I can’t. Damn those eyes, they keep searching me, disbelieving what they see. I can’t."

"SHOOT OR I WILL," the COM echoed in her ear, then continued, "five.. four.. three.. two.."

She lifted her gun and shot, whispering, "For those lost and yet to be found."


Tears were streaming down Jorja’s face, mixing with the blood as they fell to the ground. She hated remembering her past. She’d always tried to push it to the back of her mind, but everywhere she looked something reminded her, causing it to flood back.

"That voice," she recalled, thinking about the voice on from the COM. "I know that voice but where."

As if on cue, the door slammed open and the hologram disappeared. Frank stormed in and questioned, "Good. Do you remember why you turned now?"

"That voice, its Frank?" she questioned herself, "Now it all makes sense. At least I think it does. Frank was my commanding officer. I never met him, but he was the voice I heard all those years of training and special ops. Explains how he knows so much, and why he cares that I turned?"

"Yeah, It wasn’t my cause. I complied so that Alliance didn’t hurt my family. They were my life, not the Alliance’s twisted beliefs," Jorja explained to Frank, now puzzled as to why she was there.

Frank’s face released its tension at Jorja’s response, obviously the answer he wanted, as he walked up to Jorja, placing his hand in his pocket.

Jorja squirmed in her cuffs, panicking as Frank approached, hand in pocket. "A gun...?" she questioned herself, "Nah...It was the answer he wanted. Wasn’t it?"

To her amazement Frank pulled out a key and unlocked her cuffs, whispering in her ear, "I understand, I was in the same boat. They took me too, trained me and tossed me aside when the war ended. Most of all I’m glad you helped River get out of there. She was the most talented young girl I’ve met besides you, of course."

"You do realize, all they wanted was a better future for all," Frank pointed out as he removed the cuffs and placed them in his pocket.

"What, so the rich can become richer, and the poor poorer?" She scoffed, as she rubbed her wrists.

"The poor chose to be poor, they could have conformed," Frank added his viewpoint, as he paced the room.

"That’s what nobody realizes, there will always be two distinct groups of people. The Rich and the Poor. The rich are weak, gullible and think they have it all while the poor are strong, stubborn and loyal. They may not have the best things in life but at least they’re happy to do something they believe in," Jorja stressed, kicking the wall, in annoyance to Frank’s viewpoint.

Jorja and Frank fell to the ground as the room shuttered, a large explosion rattling the walls. Locking eyes with her, Frank shouted over rumbles of crumbling steel as he rose to his feet, "I’ll be back."

Frank hurried out of the room, leaving Jorja to scramble to her feet. She was stunned at what had happened. She gathered her senses and hurried to the door. Frank was nowhere in sight.

Blood curdling screams echoed down the passageway as she peered out the door searching for Frank. She thought to herself, "I have to get out of here."

She turned to her right and proceeded down the hall. Within a few steps, another scream was heard from the passageway ahead of her. She stopped and listened. It was Frank.

She panicked. Looking down the hallway in both directions, she decided to go with her gut instinct, and move to the right, scanning for an available weapon as she ran.

As she made it to the end of the passageway, she noticed a large pool of dark, fresh, blood that seemed to disappear under the wall. "What the?" She pondered, realizing the wall must be a secret door.

She search frantically for a lever or a button to release the door as the screams continued to echo down the hallway. Nothing, frustrated she thumped the door with her clenched fist.

The door slid open, revealing another passageway, much shorter though. She noticed a trail of blood leading to a door at the end of the hall, and followed cautiously, hoping it wasn’t a trap.

Reaching the door, she placed her trembling hand on the handle.

Opening the door, she froze, shocked at the scene that lay before her. It was Frank. Blood was streaming from every orifice of his body. Jorja ran to his side and tried desperately to help, although she knew deep in her heart from the amount of blood, there was nothing she could do.

She scanned his blood-drenched body until her eyes fell upon his bandaged hand. It was tightly gripping something blue. She pried open his hand and returned the blue item to its original form. A blue glove.

She looked at Frank, then at the glove and returned her gaze to Frank. She searched his face for an explanation. His hemorrhaged eyes stared at her as he struggled to murmur, "Two by two, hands of blue, not even you, can hold back a clue."

Frank drew a gun from his pocket and aimed it poorly at her, and continued to ramble, his eyes widening as he concentrated to aim, "Can’t let you spill, you know the drill, don’t have a pill, so i must kill."

Then suddenly from behind her, a gun echoed, she looked at Frank. Slowly his eyes faded shut, his breathing subsided and his body went limp. Several tears fell upon his body.

"Someone once told me ‘Sometimes you can’t make it on your own, you’re backed against a wall and surrounded by memories, painful yet comforting, lets you know your alive.’" The shooter commented as Jorja rose from beside Frank, wiping away the tears, that had resisted to subside. She spun around to stare at the shooter. "What? He got in my way," the intruder kidded, shrugging his shoulders.

She collapsed in his arms, sobbing, "Let’s get out of here before they come for us."

__________________________________________________ A Blast From The Past Part 3


Monday, June 12, 2006 5:54 PM


Good descriptions, excellent bacground.

Opens the window to a little more of the 'verse. Well done!

Monday, June 12, 2006 7:41 PM


nicely shaped up. you are far better at sustaining a plot than I...

Monday, June 12, 2006 11:23 PM


I have a good idea who the 'intruder' is. If she turned to protect her family what happened to them? Are they still alive or in some Alliance prison? Ali D :~)
You can't take the sky from me

Tuesday, June 13, 2006 1:40 AM


I don't know why it made the post anonymous, but that was me.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006 10:51 AM


You are doing a great job at describing Jorja to the reader. We learn a little more about her in each episode. I especially liked her thoughts about the battle that she shot Mal in.

"Jorja awoke dazed and confused, unsure of where she was or even why she was there. She tried to reach up, but she couldn't, her hands were cuffed behind her back."

"Blackness took her again, as his fist struck her face."

"Her remark was met with another square punch to the face, causing her to go unconscious again."

I wonder when our heroine is going to get a chance to fight back. What with making smart comments and then fading to black as much as she does.

Good fic Jorja...hope to read more of you soon.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006 6:33 PM


Getting mighty interesting here, Jorja;)

Can't wait for the next part and all of its shiny goodness:D


Wednesday, June 14, 2006 4:55 PM


oh gap, i though she was a goner there for a sec *whew*

next fic please?


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