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tamingthemuseTitle: Four Times Mal didn't give into Temptation
and One Time He Did
Author: Sunnyd_lite
Fandom: Firefly Pre-Series to Post Movie
Disclaimer: Not Mine, just playing
Prompt: 103 – Temptation
Word Count 964
A/N: Thanks to my beta![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darkhavens for mitigating my first thoughts into readable form.
"Sir?" Zoe tilted her head towards a column of smoke just over the next hill. "Wonder if they're feeling neighborly."
He ignored her patting the almost empty supply pouch and didn't answer. Mal merely pushed on through the heavy grasses that were common on partially terra-formed worlds. They'd been hiking from the last town, following up on some contacts needed to scrape together a crew.
The pay when you're on the losing side rarely amounts to squat, and they were trying to save most of that for the purchase price. Next town was a two day walk and the stew's scent tempted them towards an open doorway to the cabin.
He'd done it before, war taught one to supply up when able, but there was rhyme'n'reason for that. He'd made sure to drop some Independence Credits in payment, hoping they'd be worth something.
But 'twas different when it was just he and Zoe; when each world they saw had vittels stretched somewhere between thin and thinner. Noticing the spring shoots in the small patch of a garden, he conjectured that "Someone here must have just made a fresh kill".
The stew's aroma had his stomach rumbling, almost enough to cover the scraping sound by the only door in the place. Falling back onto their hand signals, Zoe provided cover as he advanced. With a quick tug at the door, he stepped back as a bundle of children tumbled at his feet. Took a second for him to see that there were two little girls whose thin wrists stuck out of their homespun dresses. Another reconnoiter round the place revealed only an empty larder. With barely a glance at each other, he and Zoe left. Army rations hadn't killed him yet.
##
Not many remembered Serenity Valley like he did. Wasn't sure if he was sorrowful or thankful for that fact. But not many wasn't none. And some were stuck where winning was possible.
A possibility that he'd put behind him when his dreams narrowed from freedom for the 'verse to freedom in the 'verse. A ship and free passage was all he wanted now. He'd worked hard to grab his dream, pulling it together piece by piece just praying that entropy wouldn't pull it apart as quick.
They came to him, honeyed words and pretty dreams. In shadowy bars they gathered. Different times. Different faces. All wearing the same coats. All singing the same tune. "Men will follow you. Alliance won't be expecting a move. Our cause is just."
Just or not, he'd seen too many good folk fall dead by his decisions. They offered nothing that tempted him.
##
"You taking time planet-side, Sir?"
Leave. He remembered when that was a joyfulness. A flaunting of rules and regs, a shrugging of responsibilities. That was when there were other hands to take the reins, not the case when he was captain of his own ship.
Quinton was one of the few outer planets where terra form took. Now it served as an exotic resort for adventurous types of the Central worlds. They'd done a turn slipping a rare ingredient to an hotelier and he offered use of his place, Temptation Temple, as part of the pay.
Big beds, chef cooked food, heck they even had bubblin' hot springs on the grounds. Rumors of hot and cold running Companions. Some might say idyllic.
And his ship needed some work done. Kaylee mentioned finding some parts while on her turn laying about in luxury, and he was sure she could use a hand.
"Go ahead, you two have fun." Relaxation only made him twitchy.
##
Some point he'd learn to listen to his gut. While he was a mite awed at a person with his own station, that interview with Niska was purely a power play from start to finish. He'd never been one who dealt well when faced with power. Fact, he could recall some officer or other saying as much while busting him down a rank or two.
But it tickled him to do harm to the Alliance, special-like under the noses of their top dogs. Didn't tickle him to do harm to poor innocents worked what was available. He had hard enough time getting jobs and he weren't tied to one local. Definitely not a local that poisoned those who lived there.
Was not just giving back pay that would keep them afloat. He wasn't much pleased with breaking any job; even when contracting with a mad man. He shook his head but couldn't clear the image of the afflicted. He'd given his word, but there was profit and there was right.
His momma would be pleased that he could still tell the difference.
##
The Operative had asked which was his sin. Question like that would cause a man to think some, once the fighting was done. After Miranda, Mal again was faced with a choice. First though, he had a ship to focus on. A crew that needed as much patching as his ship. But patching meant joining things together.
One didn't ask if ship parts wanted to be there. As he told their albatross, love is what kept her in the air. After that moment of calm; he realized that the most important part was still hesitating.
But hesitating wasn't a denial. Must have been hit on the head one time too many as he'd begun to see silver linings in the darkest of clouds.
He didn't have much to offer. But 'twas nothing new. Poor rations, rough rides, and near escapes. But still she waited.
He'd been taught that sparks were things to be avoided. But he'd been wrong before. He might now have an inkling of what she might want.
And he was now tempted to tell her.
and One Time He Did
Author: Sunnyd_lite
Fandom: Firefly Pre-Series to Post Movie
Disclaimer: Not Mine, just playing
Prompt: 103 – Temptation
Word Count 964
A/N: Thanks to my beta
darkhavens for mitigating my first thoughts into readable form."Sir?" Zoe tilted her head towards a column of smoke just over the next hill. "Wonder if they're feeling neighborly."
He ignored her patting the almost empty supply pouch and didn't answer. Mal merely pushed on through the heavy grasses that were common on partially terra-formed worlds. They'd been hiking from the last town, following up on some contacts needed to scrape together a crew.
The pay when you're on the losing side rarely amounts to squat, and they were trying to save most of that for the purchase price. Next town was a two day walk and the stew's scent tempted them towards an open doorway to the cabin.
He'd done it before, war taught one to supply up when able, but there was rhyme'n'reason for that. He'd made sure to drop some Independence Credits in payment, hoping they'd be worth something.
But 'twas different when it was just he and Zoe; when each world they saw had vittels stretched somewhere between thin and thinner. Noticing the spring shoots in the small patch of a garden, he conjectured that "Someone here must have just made a fresh kill".
The stew's aroma had his stomach rumbling, almost enough to cover the scraping sound by the only door in the place. Falling back onto their hand signals, Zoe provided cover as he advanced. With a quick tug at the door, he stepped back as a bundle of children tumbled at his feet. Took a second for him to see that there were two little girls whose thin wrists stuck out of their homespun dresses. Another reconnoiter round the place revealed only an empty larder. With barely a glance at each other, he and Zoe left. Army rations hadn't killed him yet.
##
Not many remembered Serenity Valley like he did. Wasn't sure if he was sorrowful or thankful for that fact. But not many wasn't none. And some were stuck where winning was possible.
A possibility that he'd put behind him when his dreams narrowed from freedom for the 'verse to freedom in the 'verse. A ship and free passage was all he wanted now. He'd worked hard to grab his dream, pulling it together piece by piece just praying that entropy wouldn't pull it apart as quick.
They came to him, honeyed words and pretty dreams. In shadowy bars they gathered. Different times. Different faces. All wearing the same coats. All singing the same tune. "Men will follow you. Alliance won't be expecting a move. Our cause is just."
Just or not, he'd seen too many good folk fall dead by his decisions. They offered nothing that tempted him.
##
"You taking time planet-side, Sir?"
Leave. He remembered when that was a joyfulness. A flaunting of rules and regs, a shrugging of responsibilities. That was when there were other hands to take the reins, not the case when he was captain of his own ship.
Quinton was one of the few outer planets where terra form took. Now it served as an exotic resort for adventurous types of the Central worlds. They'd done a turn slipping a rare ingredient to an hotelier and he offered use of his place, Temptation Temple, as part of the pay.
Big beds, chef cooked food, heck they even had bubblin' hot springs on the grounds. Rumors of hot and cold running Companions. Some might say idyllic.
And his ship needed some work done. Kaylee mentioned finding some parts while on her turn laying about in luxury, and he was sure she could use a hand.
"Go ahead, you two have fun." Relaxation only made him twitchy.
##
Some point he'd learn to listen to his gut. While he was a mite awed at a person with his own station, that interview with Niska was purely a power play from start to finish. He'd never been one who dealt well when faced with power. Fact, he could recall some officer or other saying as much while busting him down a rank or two.
But it tickled him to do harm to the Alliance, special-like under the noses of their top dogs. Didn't tickle him to do harm to poor innocents worked what was available. He had hard enough time getting jobs and he weren't tied to one local. Definitely not a local that poisoned those who lived there.
Was not just giving back pay that would keep them afloat. He wasn't much pleased with breaking any job; even when contracting with a mad man. He shook his head but couldn't clear the image of the afflicted. He'd given his word, but there was profit and there was right.
His momma would be pleased that he could still tell the difference.
##
The Operative had asked which was his sin. Question like that would cause a man to think some, once the fighting was done. After Miranda, Mal again was faced with a choice. First though, he had a ship to focus on. A crew that needed as much patching as his ship. But patching meant joining things together.
One didn't ask if ship parts wanted to be there. As he told their albatross, love is what kept her in the air. After that moment of calm; he realized that the most important part was still hesitating.
But hesitating wasn't a denial. Must have been hit on the head one time too many as he'd begun to see silver linings in the darkest of clouds.
He didn't have much to offer. But 'twas nothing new. Poor rations, rough rides, and near escapes. But still she waited.
He'd been taught that sparks were things to be avoided. But he'd been wrong before. He might now have an inkling of what she might want.
And he was now tempted to tell her.
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