Wings - Prologue Warning: Major Spoilers from the Big Damn Movie Beta read by the lovely Your October

--6 Months Ago--

(These are just a few of the images we’ve recorded.)

An eerie silence swept over the room, the screen hanging behind the bar attracting all of the occupants’ attention. They watched in terrified fascination as shots of decaying corpses flashed across the screen.

(And you can see... it isn’t what we thought.)

Mumbles spread across the crowd now.

“Is this some kind of joke?” a man at the end of the bar snapped at the barkeep.

The barkeep turned towards the outraged man for only a moment, but said nothing. He only shrugged, a quick dismissive motion, informing everyone that this was not his doing.

(There’s been no war here and no terraforming event. The environment is stable.)

The women on the view screen was visibly distressed. Her words were careful but held a meaning that no one seemed capable of comprehending. Tears welled in her eyes, but only those sitting closest to the screen noticed.

(It’s the Pax. The G-23 Paxilon Hydroclorate that we added to the air processors. It was supposed to calm the population, weed out aggression.)

She hesitated again, but only for a moment.

(Well, it works.)

In the back of the bar, at the table closest to the entrance, a man dressed in stained denim pants, whose color had long since faded away and solid blue t-shirt, sipped generously from his glass.

He watched the screen, his face conveying no emotion. He simply leaned back against his chair and continued watching intently.

(The people here stopped fighting… And then they stopped everything else.)

Voices erupted throughout the bar, whispers of confusion and uneasiness. The barkeep, feeling unsettled about the sudden change in the demeanor of his customers, changed the channel only to find that the wave was transmitting on all frequencies.

His stance became a bit panicked, though his own curiosity won out in the end. The blond man in the back of the bar noted that he wasn’t paying attention to the men and women who wanted refills.

(They stopped going to work… they stopped breeding, talking, eating. There are thirty million people here, and they all just let themselves die.)

A loud crash made everyone in the bar jump, not just out of the suddenness of it, but because they were morbidly intrigued by this woman’s sudden terror. The panic her voice was apparent, and it seemed to infect all those who were paying attention. Even the blond man, who usually liked to consider himself an exceptionally leveled person, found himself narrowing his eyes at the screen.

The women in the Alliance uniform shot a few quick glances over her right shoulder before continuing.

(I have to be quick. About a tenth of the population had the opposite reaction to the Pax. Their aggressive response increased beyond madness.)

A few of the men in the bar, namely the more seasoned looking fellows, slumped down into their seats, realization dampening their features. But not one person was looking away now; all chatter had stopped. This woman, whoever she may be, seemed to have the undivided attention of the ‘verse.

If only they understood how true that was. Whether they understood what they were seeing didn’t seem to matter anymore.

(They have become… Well they’ve killed most of us. And not just killed… they’ve done things…)

Someone spoke up in the midst of the silence, asking a question everyone seemed to be wondering themselves. “Reavers?”

A few people glanced in the direction of the voice, but for the most part people acted as if they hadn’t spoken. There was no need to speak.

(I won’t live to report this, but people have to know.)

The blond man noted how much pain she was in, none of it being physical. No one would know it from looking at him; to most he just liked a hard working old man. But he knew the pain the truth could cause. He’d seen it before.

(We meant it for the best…)

He closed his eyes. Hearing her pain was hard enough. He couldn’t watch it.

(To make people safer.)

He downed the remaining alcohol that was in his glass in two long gulps, untying his coat from his thighs and hastily shoving it on his shoulders.

He turned towards the door, not bothering to look back at the screen, when another loud crash followed. One would assume without looking that the feral growls of some hunting animal were in the background.

(Oh God!)

He hesitated and stopped at the door for the briefest of moments, almost looking over his shoulder when he heard the gunshots being fired. Her screams of sheer terror and anguish echoed from the speakers, the bar erupting into yells of outrage and bewilderment.

As Cid Highwind stepped out in the streets of Persephone, he heard similar cries and screams coming from each establishment and home he passed.

His step didn’t falter again, however. He just kept walking towards the docks, fiddling with a small green sphere he kept in his pocket.

--5 Months Ago--

Captain Malcolm Reynolds sat in the dining area of Serenity alone. In front of him was a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass he had since ceased using, finding it quicker to just drink from the bottle itself.

His mind wondered aimlessly towards the thoughts he had not been able to shake free of. Events that had fundamentally alerted the lives of him and his crew.

He thought of the Tam’s, namely River, and how they had been tangled in all of this from the beginning. He wondered just how many secrets that girl knew about the Alliance, or if this whole Miranda incident had been the end of their involvement in government conspiracies.

His thoughts wandered to Sheppard Book and the people of that moon. Innocents who had just gotten caught in the cross fire. He could still feel the man’s blood dried on his face; that feeling wouldn’t go away. The lingering smell of copper seemed to stay with him as well.

The dead that littered the streets of Miranda haunted his nightmares often. Lab rats that died at the hands of a failed experiment.

Most often, however, he thought of Wash. Skewered through his torso by a Reaver harpoon. He remembered Wash’s blood most of all, how it soaked the bridge floor. His limp body resting forward ever so slightly, leaning into the harpoon. His face hadn’t been in pain, and he’d looked peaceful. Happy, almost. Content.

It was Zoë’s tears that chilled his soul the most. He had known Zoë for close to a decade now and through it all he had not once seen her shed a tear.

But she had cried for Wash. They all had cried (possibly excluding Jayne) for Wash. Serenity had been noticeably quieter without his sense of humor, his exaggerated dinosaur battles on the bridge and over the comm system.

Mal was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the padding of bare feet coming up behind him. “You’re too loud,” she said.

Had Mal been sober he would jumped in his chair. But while he wasn’t exactly drunk, he was long past the point of being sober. “How many times do I have to tell you all? You don’t sneak up on a man from behind.”

“Hmm…” was River’s only reply as he stepped lightly towards the pantry.

Mal took another swig of whiskey before speaking again. “What’re you doing up this late anyhow, Albatross?”

River had taken a leftover protein bar from one of the cabinets, cutting a section of it off and sliding it onto a plate. “Like I said. You’re too loud. I could hear you thinking all the way from my room.”

Mal snorted though he didn’t mean too. “Sorry,” he slurred lazily, taking another drink. River sat across from him at the table, setting the plate of protein down in front of Mal.

“Chaos is noisy,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Mal nodded his head, eyeing the protein cautiously. “That it is.”

“Eat,” she ordered.

The Captain’s eyes narrowed before picking up the brown substance. He let it hover in front of his lips for a second before taking a small bite. Like always, it was tasteless and had an odd, putty-like texture. He chewed it slowly before swallowing.

“We’re all in chaos,” she said after he set the protein back down. She rested her head and hands on the table, stretching her fingers to feel all of the wood’s imperfections, the small details that made it real, trying to listen to the stories it had to tell.

He just grunted in response, reaching out to grab the bottle of whiskey again before she slapped his hand away. He glared at her dangerously, though she acted like she didn’t notice. Taking the bottle and the cork that rested near it, she got up and headed back over to the pantry to put the bottle away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he growled at her.

“This will only make the chaos grow, Captain,” River said simply, setting the bottle down in the highest cabinet she could reach before clicking it shut. Grabbing a small cup, she poured a glass of water.

“I don’t give a gorram hell what it does,” he snapped. “I want my whiskey.” He shot to his feet, but lost his balance immediately and fell back into the chair. Maybe he was drunk after all.

“You see?” She gazed at him those all-knowing eyes.

He grunted again, clumsily reaching for the cup of water. He knew how to take defeat gracefully. The water was cool and soothed his sore throat. Mal sighed. “Nothing is the same.”

“That’s because of the chaos; storms have a way of leaving things broken.”

Raising an eyebrow, Mal continued his train of thought anyway. “Wash is dead. Shepard is dead. Simon and Kaylee are humping like gorram bunnies. Zoë is acting like nothing’s wrong. And Jayne is… Jayne.” He guzzled down the water like it was whiskey. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying.

River stepped up beside him. “What about the Captain?” she asked, leaning right into his face.

“What about ‘im?”

“How has he changed?”

Mal considered the question silently for a few seconds before answering, “I ‘unno,” he slurred.

She suppressed a giggle, but smiled. “That’s ‘cause of the whiskey.” She danced around the dining area, keeping her arms extended, feet moving with grace that no one should have.

His eyes kept time with her as she moved. “Thought it was cause of the ‘chaos’.” He used air quotes to add emphasis even though she wasn’t looking at him.

This time she did giggle. “Well it sure doesn’t help.”

He huffed and took a large--perhaps too large--bite out of the protein bar. This little girl was talking in circles.

“I’m not little,” she said, never stopping her movements.

“Well, ya sure ain’t big,” he snapped a little harsher than he meant too. He seemed to do that a lot lately.

“Don’t worry, Captain Daddy.” She almost sang the words, halting her movements to meet his eyes. “Serenity just needs to find her wings again. It’s hard to fly in a straight path without your wings.”

“We lost more than wings, little one.” He retorted morbidly. His thoughts flashed back briefly to the corpses of Wash and Book. River seemed to take notice.

“I know.” She had stopped dancing suddenly and clasped her hands together, staring down at her feet. Her hair covered her face to hide her eyes that now glistened with tears. “It’s my fault.” Her voice wavered, though she hid it well.

Even in his drunken state, Mal heard it. His heart sank lower into his chest. He braced himself against the back of his chair and pushed himself upwards onto his feet. The floor swayed beneath him, and he almost lost his balance again. His hand caught himself on the table where he stayed until the floor stopped moving.

He took his first step towards her gingerly, making sure to topple over or, fates forbid, fall on River. When he reached her, though, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her frail form. “Ain’t no one’s fault but the Alliance’s,” he stated simply. Drunk he might be, stupid he wasn’t.

He felt her relax and they stayed there for almost a full minute before River pulled back. “I think I’m still broken.” The smile she gave Mal was genuine.

“We all are, Albatross. We all are.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, Captain Daddy. We just need to find some wings to help us fly again.” She tapped him on the nose then skipped away down towards her bunk before turning to speak over her shoulder. “Finish your snack and go to bed.”

He glared at her again, but responded playfully. “Yes, mother.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before going off to her room.

***

Author’s Notes: Well, this is my current project. I just had an idea of how I might get it to work and decided to go for it. The basic plot is all lined up, though I’ve strayed from them before. This is really a big experiment; I’ve not done much Firefly work in the best but I have some experience writing about Final Fantasy. So, I figured, while exploring new territory, why don’t I add something I’m familiar with? And from that little idea, this was spawned.

I’m not sure if I’m happy about how River turned out, but I’m willing to work with it a little to see if I can’t get her personality to the level I want it. She’s a difficult character to write about, in my opinion.

Updates for this story will be erratic. My updates always are because I’m no good with deadlines (I always miss them.) But I hope you’ll stick with me through out this. I’m not sure what pairings there will be; I’ve always been a fan of slash but I want this story to appeal to as many people as possible, so there may be very little romance and may just stick with canon pairings.

Reviews make me happy, so why not drop one off on your way out?

1/13/09 Update: Previous version replaced with beta read version.

~Tyloric