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crack_van2005-11-14 07:38 am
hawkmoth.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2005-11-14 07:38 am
Broken Toys by Sharelle (PG)
Fandom: FIREFLY
Pairing: Not entirely applicable...
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sharelle
Author Website: N/K
Why this must be read:
I had put together a list of potential recs a few weeks ago, and had a good idea what I wanted to start off with this week, but then I stumbled across a new story that blew me away. It's covering what's become really familiar ground in just over a month--SERENITY aftermath fic--but with wonderful style. The first-person Mal voice works very well, and the whole "what's going to happen to (a certain crew member)?" plot is meaningful and sweet without being overly angsty. The imagery applied to the theme of what's broken and what's not gives the whole story a very real feeling.
Spoilers for SERENITY the Movie.
It was sort of like that these days, flying this beautiful heap of rough-edged metal for the first time – full-time – in a long while. It was shaky and unfamiliar and awkward, but there was enough muscle memory to guide me through. You never really forget. Even if it had been years since I'd had to pilot my own ship.
There is a noticeable difference, of course, from the way it was before: not as smooth, not as responsive, not as much maneuverability resulting from my touch. Not that anyone mentions it directly to me. We're all trying our best here. Though sometimes it's as if Serenity herself is just putting up with me, but only temporarily. As though she's biding her time and keeping her patience until her real master comes back.
You're not doing too bad, Captain Reynolds, but let me know when Wash's behind the wheel again.
I wonder sometimes how she'd take it if she knew. Besides Zoë, Serenity had been the other lady in Wash's life. I wonder sometimes if maybe she did know; if she knew before the rest of us did; if she'd felt him go. She'd been the one to stay with him, after all, when none of us could. Maybe, in her awkward handling, Serenity was still working out her own grief.
Things were pretty shiny up here in the cockpit now. I honestly never thought I'd see her in a shape this good again. Not after what had happened, anyway. Probably wouldn't have gotten ship-shape again at all without the help we received – not that I'm not still on the fence about all that. I still didn't trust the bastard – that Operative. It's 'cause of him that my crew . . . my family . . . is down by two. Don't think I didn't have my suspicions.
But when we needed labor, we got it. When we needed parts, they showed up no questions asked. Not the least of which was a new seat for the main console. Brand new, in fact. We'd tried to salvage the other, but the harpoon had just damaged it beyond repair. Seemed it had done that to a lot of things.
The control panel itself is back to normal as well. And I don't just mean all the flashy buttons, view screens and functional knobs. Those damn plastic dinosaurs are back, strategically placed around the instrument panel like it was a gorram child's display table. They'd been scattered about in the crash – the dinosaurs. And the ones that weren't . . . definitely blown away when the harpoon hit.
Kind of like innocence gone – all those broken and strewn toys.
But now they were back. I often wondered who had done it, though I could never really bring myself to ask. My first instincts told me it might have been River. A child seemed the most obvious candidate to try and hold on to the simplicity that seemed to be slipping away from all of us, even if she was plenty broken herself. Deep down, though, something tells me it may have been Zoë, picking up the only pieces of her old life that she could. We could all stand to grab onto the silly memories with both hands these days.
Broken Toys
Pairing: Not entirely applicable...
Author on LJ:
sharelleAuthor Website: N/K
Why this must be read:
I had put together a list of potential recs a few weeks ago, and had a good idea what I wanted to start off with this week, but then I stumbled across a new story that blew me away. It's covering what's become really familiar ground in just over a month--SERENITY aftermath fic--but with wonderful style. The first-person Mal voice works very well, and the whole "what's going to happen to (a certain crew member)?" plot is meaningful and sweet without being overly angsty. The imagery applied to the theme of what's broken and what's not gives the whole story a very real feeling.
Spoilers for SERENITY the Movie.
It was sort of like that these days, flying this beautiful heap of rough-edged metal for the first time – full-time – in a long while. It was shaky and unfamiliar and awkward, but there was enough muscle memory to guide me through. You never really forget. Even if it had been years since I'd had to pilot my own ship.
There is a noticeable difference, of course, from the way it was before: not as smooth, not as responsive, not as much maneuverability resulting from my touch. Not that anyone mentions it directly to me. We're all trying our best here. Though sometimes it's as if Serenity herself is just putting up with me, but only temporarily. As though she's biding her time and keeping her patience until her real master comes back.
You're not doing too bad, Captain Reynolds, but let me know when Wash's behind the wheel again.
I wonder sometimes how she'd take it if she knew. Besides Zoë, Serenity had been the other lady in Wash's life. I wonder sometimes if maybe she did know; if she knew before the rest of us did; if she'd felt him go. She'd been the one to stay with him, after all, when none of us could. Maybe, in her awkward handling, Serenity was still working out her own grief.
Things were pretty shiny up here in the cockpit now. I honestly never thought I'd see her in a shape this good again. Not after what had happened, anyway. Probably wouldn't have gotten ship-shape again at all without the help we received – not that I'm not still on the fence about all that. I still didn't trust the bastard – that Operative. It's 'cause of him that my crew . . . my family . . . is down by two. Don't think I didn't have my suspicions.
But when we needed labor, we got it. When we needed parts, they showed up no questions asked. Not the least of which was a new seat for the main console. Brand new, in fact. We'd tried to salvage the other, but the harpoon had just damaged it beyond repair. Seemed it had done that to a lot of things.
The control panel itself is back to normal as well. And I don't just mean all the flashy buttons, view screens and functional knobs. Those damn plastic dinosaurs are back, strategically placed around the instrument panel like it was a gorram child's display table. They'd been scattered about in the crash – the dinosaurs. And the ones that weren't . . . definitely blown away when the harpoon hit.
Kind of like innocence gone – all those broken and strewn toys.
But now they were back. I often wondered who had done it, though I could never really bring myself to ask. My first instincts told me it might have been River. A child seemed the most obvious candidate to try and hold on to the simplicity that seemed to be slipping away from all of us, even if she was plenty broken herself. Deep down, though, something tells me it may have been Zoë, picking up the only pieces of her old life that she could. We could all stand to grab onto the silly memories with both hands these days.
Broken Toys