A series of short stories about the crew and passengers of Serenity and objects that are important to them. I've got two written so far, and if I get one up this week and produce one a week from here on out, I should have gotten through all the main characters by the time the movie is released. I think.

After the movie's released, I've got a story written for one of the movie characters that I'll put up. Also, does anyone know of any good Firefly fic LJ communities? I'm looking for other places to post this.

Firefly is created by Joss Wheadon and has had it's ownership tossed between too many companies for me to care about keeping track.


"Wash? Wash!"

Wash snapped out of his trance and looked up behind him to see Mal with an exasperated expression on his face. "Yeah, Mal?" Wash asked.

"Aren't you supposed to be looking for that part Bester was asking about?"

Wash stood up and faced Mal. "I guess I could, but it'd be a wasted effort. There's nothing on this rock even resembling what Bester was asking for."

Mal sighed. "Meaning what?"

Wash shrugged. "No idea. I'm just the pilot. I know how to work the engine, but as for how it works, I don't have the foggiest idea." Wash trailed off. He shrugged again. "Honestly? I think Bester made the part up so he could get some more time trying to get in someone's pants."

Mal cursed. "Alright, I'm going to go talk to that boy. Zoe, go to the Scorpion, find out if Marshall's arrived yet with the cargo. If he's not by the time we're ready to leave, we leave. I can't be bothered to be making up for other people's mistakes."

Mal stalked off in the direction of the dock. Zoe watched his retreating form for a while before turning to Wash. She was rather unsurprised to find that he had gone back to peering in at the store window. "We need to go to the Scorpion. It's not the kind of place I'd like to go without an extra set of eyes."

"Just a second," Wash said. He held his hands over his eyes and squinted into the window, looking for all the 'verse like an eight year old boy trying to peek into a candy store.

Zoe stepped next to him and tried to see through the dusty window. "And what is it that has so enraptured your attention?" she asked.

"Those," Wash responded, pointing at something in a glass case on the far end of the store.

Zoe wiped off some of the window's dust with her sleeve and looked again. "Toys?" she asked finally.

"No, dinosaurs," Wash said. "There's a critical difference."

"That being?"

"Dinosaurs are so much more interesting than regular toys. You can do only one thing with a top, you know, spin it. Or jacks. All you can do with jacks is play jacks. But you can have all sorts of fun with those dinosaurs."

Zoe looked down at him and raised an eyebrow slightly.

Wash seemed to sense this. "Well, I can," he corrected.

"Wash, unless I'm mistaken, those things are from Earth-That-Was."

"Yeah," Wash admitted. "Made of plastic."

"Plastic, which is made from oil. Which was made from dinosaurs-"

"-to begin with, I know." Wash finished. "That's why it's so much fun. You're playing with dinosaurs made of dinosaurs."

"Why are you even wasting your time with these? We don't have money in our budget for recreational purchases. Especially anything as antique as those. God only knows how much those cost." She glanced down at him. "Why does a grown man play with toys anyway?"

Wash stood up from his little kid position. He scratched his head. "I guess it's a way of connecting with my inner child."

Zoe gave him another disapproving look. "Your inner child?"

Wash smiled at her. "Yeah. My inner child. The part of you that's locked at eight or nine and still wants to be a ninja or something. Passes notes in class, runs around with a wooden sword fighting invisible bad guys. The fun part with no inhibitions."

"And is it wise for a pilot of a smuggling ship to listen to his inner child?"

Wash shrugged. "If I didn't, I wouldn't even be here. I was almost ready to be set up as a tour guide on Gemini. But my inner child wanted to visit the stars." He knelt down and peered through the window again. "Always wanted to do that. Go to other worlds. Be out in the black. The very edge of space and back. See it all." He chuckled. "My mom told me once that when I was five my favorite thing to do would be to get a bunch of chairs together, form my own spaceship, and have all these adventures outrunning the Reavers."

Zoe turned back to the store window and stared in with him. They were silent for a while. "They've even got a little plastic tree," she said finally.

"Yeah," Wash said, a little dreamily.

"You know, we do have work to do," Zoe said.

"Yeah, I know," Wash said as he slowly stood up. He glanced around. "Where's Jayne?" he asked. "I'd feel better with him around."

Zoe raised an eyebrow. "You don't think I can handle any trouble?"

"No, I'm sure you can. I don't think that I can handle any trouble. Jayne can watch your back while I cower in a corner somewhere."

Zoe smirked slightly.

"I'll go find him," Wash said. "I'm sure whatever hole he's drinking himself into a stupor in is no place for a lady. Far too offensive an odor."

As Wash wandered off, Zoe stood in front of the store window and stared at the glass case with the dinosaurs, fingering her personal stash she had hidden in the lining of her vest.


"Well, now that we've got ourselves a new genius mechanic, can we please leave?" Mal asked. Marshall hadn't shown and his patience was starting to reach its limit.

Wash nodded. He pointed a finger at the new mechanic and frowned. "I'm sorry, I've already forgotten your name."

The young girl smiled brightly at him. "It's no problem. Kaylee. A 'K' followed by 'Lee'".

"Ah. Wash. A 'Wa' followed by 'Sh'. I need you in the engine room for take off."

Kaylee nodded and disappeared down the stairs.

"Alright," Wash heard Mal say as he climbed up to the cockpit. "Zoe, go make sure Jayne isn't bleeding all over everything. I don't want to have to make him clean up any more than I have to. Cleaning supplies cost money."

Wash sat down in the pilot's seat and leapt up almost immediately. Someone had put a small box on his seat.

He opened the box and his eyes widened. He set it down next to him and started to flick the overhead switches. He glanced down at the box.

"From a 'secret admirer'? Nah. I'm the only one that childish and immature."

As the ship started coasting out of the atmosphere and into the black, Wash reached into the box next to him and pulled out the dinosaurs. He made them fight for a few minutes before he started arrange them on an empty spot on the console. He grabbed the palm tree and placed it between them. "Perfect," he said. He looked out the forward windows and back down at the dinosaurs. "I've been thinking," he said to them. "Maybe I should shave my moustache. What do you guys think? I think it makes me look too old."

"I think it makes you look like a child molester," Zoe said, stepping into the cabin. She took the co-pilot's seat and stared out into the blackness.

Wash blinked a few times. "A child molester?" He scratched the offending facial hair. "Well, that tears it. Moustache goes."

"Good to hear," Zoe said.

He coughed, trying to look less hurt about it than he truly was.

In a rare response, she smiled at him, a real genuine Zoe-smile -- which made him all tingly. And then she left, her footsteps barely a whisper on the floor.