Legacy 3:03, Mind Fields
Thursday, October 12, 2006

What happened on Legacy? Why did they have no idea who they were? What lead to the unpleasant chain of events that threatens to tear the crew of Legacy apart? The crew tries to figure out what went wrong that dire morning.


Because I felt like you all needed some (but not much) explaination, and felt like you needed some (but... well, okay, a lot) of added confusion, that's why. This was part of the reason I wanted to do the third season, with the other parts coming as we go along. It only gets better from here, trust me. The language warning remains in effect for this episode, this season, and in fact the rest of the series, so if you can't stand icky, nasty words, I suggest you turn back now. Legacy's on HBO now, so we can say whatever we want. We being me. I... You know what I mean... we mean... Damn it! The names for the 'actors' I used in this one were based loosely on the people I thought would play them in real life. Anne is already close to Andrea, so I changed her a bit, and Jacob is Jacob, so that's alright. Mikhai is a guy in my calculus class who looks like Casher in everything but the hair color. Basically it's me giving the nod to the characters' inspirations. And finally, this is the Browncoats' biggest wet dream. To have another series on the air, another chance to keep flyin'... Joss Whedon, Mark Sheppard, and The Other Guy (who is me) are all their own damn property, so I guess I'm just stealing them. Legacy is my dream, so I own that. Language is naughty in here sometimes, so watch your virgin eyes. Feedback is love. Love me.

Mind Fields

The screaming of the alarm clock was enough to get him rolling over, tumbling him out of quite pleasant dreams about spending time in exotic locals with past and present romances. A hearty swat shut the clock up, but it was too late; he was awake now, and that wasn't going to change. "Early mornings..." Justin growled, rolling over to try to lever himself out of bed. He couldn't though, since Amy was in the way. "You have to get up too, you know?" "Don't see why?" his wife replied. "It's not like I've got anything to shoot at the crack of crowpiss, and it'll take an hour to put on my belly anyway..." Justin frowned for a moment, then upended the covers, dumping her onto the carpet. She cast a dark-eyed glare at him over her shoulder, then drew herself up into the very portrait of haughty. "I could have gotten up on my own," she said. "Bullshit, dear. You know how Joss hates it when we're late," he pointed out. He swung his legs out, raising to his feet and bending to the satisfying if somewhat disgusting crunch of his vertibrae sliding into a decent position. "You want some tea?" she asked, making her way to the tiny kitchen the two of them had to share while shooting. "Nah, I'll just grab something at the set," Justin replied. "Toast?" "Are you actually trying to be domestic?" he chuckled, and Amy gave him a scowl, if a kind-hearted one. With a pixie-like grin, she moved out of his sight, into the kitchen where various rattles and bangs began to sound. Justin just shook his head, turning to stare out the window at the bustle of early morning in Toronto. He ran a hand through his blonde locks, then proceeded into cracking his joints as he pulled on a shirt which would very likely be his outfit for the day. He and Zane shared pretty much the same taste in clothing, so most of what he had at home was duplicated stitch for stitch at the site, and it didn't much matter what he picked out. Amy was the same way except in reverse; she never got to wear her own clothes at work. "What do you think Joss' gonna do to us today?" Amy asked from the kitchen, punctuated by a shattering. "Oh, bollocks..." "You didn't read your script again, am I right?" Justin laughed as he sauntered into the kitchen. October already. Soon, there'd be snow on the ground, if the last three years were any indication of Canadian weather. "Maybe," she admitted as she swept something glass, broken, and quite possibly expensive into the garbage. "There's a reason you've got the most takes," he remarked, picking up the cup of tea. He glanced at his wrist, remembering a moment later that he'd lost his watch weeks ago. "What time is it?" "It's..." Amy replied, trailing off as she searched the cluttered kitchen for the clock which seemed to have its own contingent of nomadic gnomes who moved it around each night. "Oh, bugger, we've got to go, love!" Justin leaned in, choking a bit when he saw the time. "Bugger indeed!" he shouted. "Joss is going to have our asses this time... Bugger..." <> Zane nodded as Jacob took a deep breath, composing himself. "So, you had the same thing happen to you?" Zane asked. "I'm assuming, then, that you all had that... well, it weren't exactly a dream, now were it?" Jacob chuckled. "Hardly a dream," Sylvia agreed. "I still remember everything. Fresh coffee, fruit what could be bought by anybody with a couple bucks..." "And gridlock!" Daniel piled in. "Good god, the gridlock. Remind me, if I ever go to Earth-that-was, never to go to Toronto during the autumn." "Done," Jacob added. "My question is, why that place, and why on Earth-that-was?" "I'm not sure," Casher muttered. "But then again, things didn't start... slipping... till later, didn't they?" "So, what happened after that?" Sylvia asked. <> Justin barely waited for the car to stop before throwing on the parking break, pulling the keys, and vaulting out the door. He didn't need to see to know that Amy was already four steps ahead of him. As he ran, he almost ran down Mark, who was taking a smoke outside the Serenity set. He called an apology as he ran, not even bothering to slow. He was already an hour late for shooting. If Joss didn't kill him, then The Other One would. Amy's path took them directly into Legacy's upper floor, where the kitchen and all its assorted miscellany usually served as the cast's reading place. The two of them stumbled to a stop when they found all of the cast and a goodly amount of the crew already waiting for them, seated any place that could be found. On the chairs, in the nook, on the counter. Even Joss was squatted on the stairs, looking all manner of pissed. Jacob alone was deadpan, staring at the front of the set, where the cockpit scenes were shot. "It's about goddamn time you showed up," Lynn sniped. She was already made up in full Friday mode. Well, Monday, with the snippiness. "Didn't The Other One tell you to show up nice and early?" Mikhai growled from Lynn's side. He frowned down over the tree-trunk sized arms crossed over his smallish-car sized chest. "This ain't the time," Dean hushed. He pointed up to Jacob, who appearantly had been interrupted in the middle of his scarring, as his chest, bare to the room, was covered, but the trademark gash on his face was not in attendance. "So, you grace the set with your presense, honey?" Jacob said with a smirk. "I'm a forgivin' sort, so I'll let this one slide, just don't let it happen too often. Not that it matters..." "What is it?" Justin asked. Joss scowled like he'd just eaten one of his own hemorrhoids, but didn't say a word. "I," Jacob said, dragging out each word, "have some bad news." There was a long silence. Suddenly, nothing happened, and the silence dragged on. "Which would be?" Mikhai asked. "Our network has pulled the plug on us," Jacob responded slowly, staring at the floor just in front of his feet. "No!" Amy cried out. "No friggin' way!" Dean shouted in accompanyment. "Does that mean we aren't going to get a series finale?" Justin asked. "We're only two episodes into the third season, dear," Amy pointed out. "Still?" "Calm down," Joss placated. "What happened?" Lynn asked, taking a step toward Jacob, at the head of the table. "We were told that The Other One dealt with this before. Can't he pull some strings?" "That's not going to happen this time," Jacob said slowly. "Because it's not a problem." "Getting cancelled isn't a problem?" Dean asked. "Who said we were cancelled?" Jacob said, with a shit-eater grin. Silence fell through the cries and protests. "What?" Dean yelped. "I just said that we were dumped by our network. I may have forgotten to mention the good news part of the morning," Jacob said, that wide grin threatening to split his face in twain. "We got picked up by HBO." "...Really?" Amy asked. "Yup," Jacob replied, smug look plastered to his face. "We're getting slotted right after that Deadwood spinoff they're making. You wondered why they let Amy here say fuck in the last episode?" "I was scratchin' my head about that," Dean admitted. "So..." Justin prompted. "We've got carte blanche for the third season," Joss said with a smirk. "Add to that getting Serenity running on Wednesdays, and... well, I've said before that we've done the impossible. Now, we're just doing it on a weekly basis." The grumblings of the crew had fairly metamorphosized into cheers, and several of them even started passing around the bottle of sake from the cupboards before Joss caught them and made them put it back. "Well, that's been a fairly eventful morning," Jacob said. "Now, where's Laura?" "Over here, boss," she said, appearing at the back of the crowd. She dropped her duffle onto the set and leaned against the doorframe. "What did I miss?" "Everything, it seems?" Amy snipped. Justin couldn't quite understand the animosity between the two women. She disliked Laura with a fervor only topped by Anne's growing dislike for Sylvia, which helped her act, since it wasn't much of a stretch for Amy to turn her own dislike of Laura into hatred of Laura's character. "Got picked up by HBO," Jacob summed up, without an ounce of the drama he'd subjected the rest of the crew to. Laura grinned. "Shiny," she chirped. "Best get everybody to makeup, then, shouldn't we?" "Yeah, Anne's going to need her belly put on," Jacob said as he moved past Amy, tapping her flat belly in the process. "Don't you touch my woman," Justin chastised, and Jacob gave a hang-dog look at getting caught. It was something of an ongoing game, it seemed. As the crowds parted, one man remained, motionless at the side of the room. He was old, but not decrepit. His bald pate rested upon muscular shoulders, and he stared out at the cast with a gaze which could have seared flesh off of bone. "Who's that?" Justin asked. Jacob turned around, squinting at the old dude who hadn't gotten around to moving. "I'm not sure," Jacob remarked. "Must be an extra for the shoot." "He's kinda creepy, boss," Dean said as he moved off the set. "He is that..." Jacob said, turning to follow the young actor off the set. "Okay, if memory serves, it's me and Lynn and Mikhai for the first hour or so. Justin doesn't have anything till later on." "Commentary," Justin called. "Fine, go nuts," Jacob replied. "Just don't piss off Joss like you did last time." "I promise nothing." <> "The old guy," Dan said. "I recognized him. He was there when the first one came back." "The what?" Jacob asked. "When I started remembering things, I saw that creepy old guy, and he grinned at me," Dan said, shifting to find a position reasonably comfortable, considering he was sitting on the cold metal of the hold and the fact that he had a sloppily wrapped foot which he'd shot himself in not four hours ago. "I saw him too," Friday admitted. "It was just a glance, when Casher and I were... you know..." "I really wish I didn't," Jacob interrupted for her sake. "I don't get how you could have ended up like that with him," Sylvia muttered. "Why's that?" Casher asked. "Lynn was a lesbian." "Really?" Dan perked up, with a grin cast to Friday "In your dirty little dreams," Friday said kindly, despite her words. "You've admitted that you're bisexual," Jacob pointed out. "Your point being?" "This is not helping the situation... wait, what?" Casher asked to the Asian woman by his side. "It's a long story," she passed off. "And one I won't relish hearing, I suppose," Casher muttered. "Bi zwei!" Jacob shouted. "What happened next?" <> "This," Justin said as he burst into Amy's dressing room, "is Amy, she plays Anne in the world famous Legacy. She's just getting her belly put on, isn't that right?" "What did I say about bursting into my room?" Amy said, without looking back as the slim, effeminate man connected her nine-months-pregnant belly to her so seamlessly it would look to the world that she was a few days from popping the proverbial cork. "That it was impulsive and manly?" Justin laughed. "I also said 'don't'," she amended. Justin panned over to where Mark was now smoking. "And this is Mark, he plays the psychotic lowlife Badger in both Legacy and Serenity." "Charmed," Mark muttered around his smoke. He tamped it out. "Damn dirty habit, that." "Yes, Mark was born about ten miles away from Amy. And in both series, he gets to talk the way he does anyway," Justin commentated. "And we don't," Amy piped up, her accent identical to Mark's. The man in the bowler hat let out a chuckle. "Crime, war and television, mates. Everything's fair play. Now, if you don't mind, my own scene's likely starting next door," He tipped his hat to the pair as he made his way out. "Cheers." "And this," Justin continued, as though Mark had never been there, "is my darling wife, currently pregnant with the child of my good friend Jacob. Just like a bloody soap, that." "Does anybody actually watch that behind the scenes stuff?" Amy asked, with a pointed glance over her shoulder. "Enough do," he noted. Amy just shook her head and grunted, waving Justin away from the trailer. Never one to outlast his welcome, he quickly took his leave, kicking the door shut as a cold wind swept along the lines of squat buildings they'd gotten for dressing, throwing fits in, and the like. The wind raked him, actually pushing him to one side, before dissipating. Justin scowled and wiped a sticking leaf off the lens. When he glanced back up, he saw something he didn't expect. The trailers hadn't been named for the actor, as was usually the case. Jacob and The Other One decided on the day the show was picked up that the character trumped the actor, and placed the character's name on the 'trailer'. He looked to his left, at the one painted bright reds and greens, with the name Friday calligraphed onto the side. Then he stared forward, at one in stark blues, with Monday. For just a moment, the sight was perfectly normal, something not to be remarked on. Then he remembered Lynn played both Monday and Friday. Lynn only had one trailer. "What's wrong, Zane?" Tyler asked as he walked past. Justin spun to him. "What did you call me?" he asked the silver-eyed man. "Huh? What did I say?" "You called me Zane," Justin pointed out. Elias' actor frowned a moment, then shrugged it off. "Eh, must just be having a brain-fart day..." "What do you make of this," Justin caught the man's attention before he wandered off. He pointed at the extra trailer, sitting between Anne and Friday. Tyler, veiwing it, smirked. "Monday's coming back later in the season. We figured we might as well have her trailer all nice and ready for her when she does, dohn luh mah? Ni chio lyen, yo mei yo?" Justin's face tightened up into a rictus. "You do remember that Lynn plays both of them, don't you? And what the hell was that last part?" "I... what?" "Goddamnit, Lynn!" a roar ripped out across the lot, silencing the two men, and sending them running to the set. Justin arrived just in time to turn on the camera, taking in Jacob simply rolling across the floor laughing, and Lynn fuming from the mark which she'd probably picked to enter the scene. "I didn't even get to say my line," she grumbled, but Laura and Jacob were in a taking. Lynn was a phenom, a one-take wonder who could nail any scene she was in on the first try. Needless to say, whenever anybody screwed up on the set, the blame inevitably fell on Lynn. Justin's camera took in the scene, with the two of them rolling on the floor, and Lynn, resplendid in her robes, awaiting her opportunity to start speaking, and the creepy old guy watching him from the corner, and Mikhai chuckling at the edge of the set... "Hey," Justin said, trying to catch somebody's attention. "What did I miss this time?" Wait... Old guy? <> "The old guy again?" Daniel snarled, rubbing his injured leg. "Who the hell is that bastard?" "I don't remember any old man..." Sylvia muttered, face coiled up in consternation. "That's not surprising," Jacob whispered. He glanced up as footfalls announced a new arrival to the group. His hopes were instantly and brutally dashed when William Kell loped into the hold. He'd hoped, the impossible hope, that it would be Anne... "Jessica and Jimmy are set up," William said, squating down next to the door. The crew all stared at him. "What?" "This is kinda' a private conversation, berk," Dan pointed out. "Don't call me a berk," William replied. "I caught most of that little conversation, and I've got to say, bloody hell..." "You're welcome on my ship," Jacob said blankly. "That don't make you privvy to my every teensie secret." "Still," Kell replied, his eyes flashing in the low light. "You heard the captain," Zane said, low and cold, his eyes seeming to freeze the air. Cold blue met burning gold, and the two seemed to wrestle, despite their bein' six yards apart. After a long moment, Zane grunted, and slid down into a lower squat. "That's what I thought," Kell murmured. He turned his gaze on Jacob. "Do continue." "This isn't for your entertainment, Kell," Friday hissed. Casher crossed his mammoth arms to punctuate her point. "Indeed," Kell said. "But I've heard some... disturbing things... lately. Such as the fact that the King of Londinum is dead." "What?!" Friday shouted, leaping to her feet. "He was found dead a few hours ago," Kell said through a grin. "Minus one head, I hasten to add." "Who would do something like that?" Casher asked. Kell laughed out loud. "Oh, the list is longer than my leg," his laughter died instantly, replaced by flat, stale tones. "That is following the catastrophe that occured on his yacht. All hands lost, including his wife and two eldest children." "Who does that leave?" Friday asked. "Benjamin and Sonia," Kell responded. A smirk formed on his face. "Long live the King, ai?" "That don't mean nothin' to us out here," Dan intruded, dragging all eyes to him. "Oh, it does, lad," Kell countered. His gaze turned back to Jacob. "What happened next?" <> "Oh... I'm a bad man," Jacob laughed, still in his full get-up, sitting at the table just outside of the set as the sun fell behind the skyline of downtown Toronto. The crew laughed in their beers as they passed around stories of things past. "Man, I can't believe I went to all those years of goliard," Justin joked, "just to end up as a mechanic on a piece of crap boat..." "Don't you be insultin' my boat, kid," Jacob warned. "Kid?" Justin repeated. "I'm as old as you are." Jacob seemed poised to say something, but faltered, giving a glance to Laura before shrugging. "Anyway. It's a damn sight that we made it this far, ain't it?" "I know," Amy replied, raising her glass. "First episode took a year to make on its own." "But once it got found," Jacob picked up where she left off, "we had a series with a nineteen episode commitment. To The Other Guy! Were it not for his cursed name, Legacy would never have been!" "The Other Guy!" the rest cheered, bringing odd glances from the other patrons of the bar. Of course, they were an eclectic bunch. "One thing I'm not quite understanding," Dean said, unwinding the bindings which had been on his leg all shoot. "What's going on right now, anyway?" "You mean Mind Feilds?" Laura asked. "It takes place immediately before the last episode." "The one where...?" "Yeah, that one. It explains what happened with everything being as it was," Jacob finished. Amy yawned, pulling the leather thong off her neck and tossing it onto the table. "Make sure that ends up back in my trailer, would you?" she said, sauntering toward the door. Justin cast a glance at his exodusing wife, back to the table, and then shrugged and walked toward the door. He had just reached the threshold when something caught him as strange. He turned back to the table and counted the occupants. The number came up short, so he counted it again. "Hold on..." he said, letting his voice carry back to the table. "Where's Tyler?" "Where's who?" Jacob asked. "Tyler," Justin parroted. They all stared at him dumbly. "He plays Elias on the series. You worked with him just a few hours ago?" "Elias is dead," Friday pointed out. No... Friday? Lynn. Lynn pointed it out. He shook his head. "Right... I'm just... I'll be... elsewhere..." he said, making his confused way toward the exit. Amy just smirked at him, with that pixie grin, then leaned down from her higher position on the stairs to give him a quick kiss. "Come on, love," she chided. "We've got things to do, and an early morning tomorrow." "We do, don't we?" he replied. Where had Elias gone? He was... no, Tyler was here. Elias was a character. There was no Elias... Still shrouded in his confusion, Justin opened Amy's door, and was surprised out of his fog when he noticed Amy hadn't even taken off her belly. With a smile, he closed the door, getting in himself and getting out onto the road. He waited just long enough to be a pain before pointing out the obvious. "You forgot something, didn't you?" he asked. "Excuse me?" Amy said, scratching her 'belly' idly. "That distended saddlebag you have under your shirt," Justin said, tapping the top of her bulge. It didn't feel like it usually did. Much more solid. Substantial. She laughed though. "Good god, you'd think I was actually pregnant, forgetting something like that," she laughed, pulling up the edge of her shirt. She ran her thumb along the edge of the prostetic. It didn't move. She jabbed her thumb in again, with just as little result. The third time, she actually drew blood, but the swell of flesh didn't move in the slightest. Justin was so shocked that he didn't even notice as a car pulled out in front of him. <> Mikhai stifled a yawn as he tried to hail a cab for the fourth unsuccessful time in a row. He wasn't surprised by the cabbie's reaction to him. Being six ten tended to make the best of people edgy. The rest of the cast and crew had dispersed already, with the exception of Lynn, who was appearantly awaiting her lover's arrival. The cab just passed him by, but he could practically see the look of shock on the driver's face just as he came into sight. He shook his head and leaned against the lamp post. This was becoming annoying. This just teared it, he was buying a car. "Holy hell, boy, you are one intimidatin' piece of humanity, ain't you?" a homeless man muttered as he passed, shuddering when Mikhai's glance reached him. "Jus' sayin's all..." Mikhai tossed away his smoke and, shaking his head all the while, began the long walk back to his pad. He had made it about twelve steps when he heard a tussle coming from the alley. He turned, cursing his blasted eyes... blasted... when...? As his eyes slowly adjusted, he could see four large figures, and one slender one. He guessed that the four were men, and the last a woman. Not my problem, he though. She shouldn't have gone out on her own. She should have been smarter. Let her taste her reward for it. Which made it shocking when he realized he was advancing on the men who were manhandling the woman. The forms slowly coallesced into much clearer figures. He was right in that the four larger ones were men, but the instant he saw the last, the woman being pressed to the side of the car, his blood boiled and his vision went red. Friday's head lolled to the side, her eyes glazed from abuse or drugs or some combination of the two, and she was being harshly shoved into the back seat. Nobody hurt his Friday. Nobody. Never again... Without even questioning where the line of thought had come from, he surrendered to the flow, letting his body do what it so desparately wanted to. He felt the walls sliding away as he charged, his massive feet resounding like thundercracks against the concrete. He was Casher. Casher wanted blood. The closest turned to him with a lecherous smirk. Well, it was a lecherous smirk for about three quarters of a second, after which Casher's fist removed it from existence. The feel of tender bone caving away under his hands felt like a baptism. This is who I am, he now thought as his other hand grasped the floundering man with little left in the way of a recognizable face, and threw him easily at the farther of the two, who was reaching for a gun. "What the hell?" the rapists screamed in terror as Casher moved amongst them, his fists splintering bone like dried, brittle wood. One of them leapt into the driver's seat, throwing the car into drive with Casher in front of it. He grunted as he strained the muscles on his legs, heaving his boot into the radiator. Searing pain jumped up his leg, but the engine died as if it had just slammed into a wall at eighty. Casher smashed out the driver's window, grabbing his neck on the way back out and thrusting him harshly into the opposite wall. The man impacted with a horrifying crack, but it wasn't enough. Casher grabbed him again and drove him further into the wall, nearly liquifying him. For an instant, he thought that no human could be this strong, this deadly. Just an instant. Because that's when he got shot. The last one still on his feet had gotten a shot off, and looked all manner of triumphant as he fired again. Casher lurched aside, astounding even himself as he grasped the gunman's hand, and tore it upward. The arm separated mid-forearm with a loud pop. Now freed for his purposes, Casher turned it on its owner, forcing the man's own hand to pull the trigger on the bullets which tore his guts apart. Casher leaned down, catching his breath, and fingering the edges of the hole in his own forearm. He pulled up his sleeve, staring at the tunnel running through his flesh. He knew it should have hurt. It was probably going to hurt later. But now, there was Friday. She was in trouble. She always got herself in trouble... "Friday," he shouted, tearing the door off its hinges rather than bothering to open the door. He drew her to him, skinning open her eye with large fingers and taking a look. Not good. She was given too much. They would have killed her, with their inexpert chemistries. He hefted her, easily as a child, and carried her home. He carried her to Legacy. <> "Who were those people?" Laura asked, wiping the blood away from Jacob's ears as he staggered away. Two bodies now graced the entrance of his apartment building, and he couldn't take his eyes off of them. "They were..." he coughed, spitting up a half congealed gobbet onto the closer one's suit. He pointed at their hands, sheathed in blue. She looked back to him. "What are you saying?" she asked, helping to his feet, then, pausing a moment as she pocketed the leather thong he'd dropped and the gun his numbed hands couldn't heft. What am I saying, he though, is that the gorram Hands of Blue are here. Here! All he managed to do was give over to a fit of coughing, however. "That's impossible. The Hands of Blue are just characters from... And what was that thing they used?" "I didn't..." "It made my head feel like it was splitting apart," she continued, helping him limp back to his car. As he was lowered into the car, he wiped some of the blood out of of his eyes, squinting with the pain which was only now starting to recede. Now he knew what Early felt like during that bu an on Persephone... That didn't happen, did it? Did it? "We need to get you to a doctor," she continued, throwing the car into drive. "Syl," he interrupted. She shut up instantly, looking confused all the while. "It's them. The Agents. They're here." "They're not real," Sylvia denied. "And my name is..." "Your name is Sylvia," Jacob interrupted. "And it might interest you to note that you're heading us back toward Legacy." "No, I'm taking us to a..." she said, then trailed off as the wall of the lot loomed before her. She snarled, then took a turn down another street. "to a hospital. You need a doctor." "There's a doctor on Legacy," Jacob stressed, rubbing his brow. "Legacy's not real!" she shouted, then screamed in frustration as the wall of the lot loomed again. She prepared to turn again, but this time Jacob's arm lept out, stopping her from turning the wheel. "Jacob, let me get you to a..." she said. "Trust me," he murmured as the car slowed to a stop just outside the set. <> "You have to get up, kid," Elias whispered. Justin pulled his splitting head back from the steering wheel, fighting the urge to pass back out into a sweet black oblivion. "I said, get the hell up!" Justin opened his eyes, staring at the ruined mess that had been made of his car. His head lolled over to one side, and he saw Amy, rubbing her head with the back of one hand, while the other protectively caressed her belly. "Are you alright, Amy?" he asked. She kept staring into the distance, one hand high, the other low. "Amy? Are you alright?" No response. He tried something different. "Anne?" "It kicked," she whispered. Justin frowned. "What?" "The baby," she said, a distant smile on her face. "It kicked..." "Who's... is it?" Anne... and it was Anne, no doubt to that in his mind... turned to him with a slanted look. "Who's else could it be?" Justin ran his hands through his short hair, then threw off his seat belt. He had just started to undo hers when the window exploded inward, and dark figures resolved out of the surrounding shadow. He threw up his hands to guard himself from the flying shards of glass. A black gloved hand threw the door open, and then pulled him out, dashing him against the pavement. "Eyes on the ground!" the man screamed, as Justin felt a gun barrel shoved into the back of his neck. "Onto your knees, now!" Justin quickly conceded, even as he saw Anne being tossed to the ground as brutally as he had. A kernel of rage lit in him. She was pregnant. Very pregnant. This was unexcuseable. "Careful with that," Elias calmly coached, leaning up against the crumpled hood of the car. "If you don't act at an opportune moment, things will go badly." "Why can't they see you?" Justin asked. Anne looked at him oddly. "Because I'm in your head, kid," Elias responded. He let out a laugh as a metal cuff latched shut on Justin's left wrist. "Damn, he really did a number on you, didn't he?" "Don't you hurt her," Justin said. "She's pregnant." "She's a wanted criminal," came the response. "No, she isn't!" Justin yelped. "Yes," she countered. It was then that he realized she was speaking in her Anne accent, rather than the English burr he still displayed. "I am. For treason." "I..." "Remember," Elias said, leaning down in front of Justin. "The opportune moment, Zane." And then he felt a gun in his right hand. Zane almost laughed as he kicked backward as hard as he could, buckling the knee out from under the Fed who was trying to cuff him. He chased the armored figure to the ground with a pair of bullets, then turned to the other three, who stared him down from inside their black shock-visors. "Back the hell off, berks," Zane snarled as he helped his friend's wife to her feet. They didn't give an inch. In fact, they had started advancing, pushing them back. Zane spared a moment and his left hand to help Anne back up, then retreated further. He knew that they'd have him cornered in no time, and if he started shooting, there was no way he, even with Elias' help, could take down all three before they seared his guts out with their lasers. "Put down the gun, or we shoot her. Right in the belly, Zane. Do you think you can live with that?" the armored figure barked. "I'm fairly sure I couldn't," Dan said, almost appearing out of nowhere, behind a soldier with his gun at the unarmored chin. The caught Fed froze solid, and the other two turned to face him. "Put them down, gorramit, or this man gets a perforated head!" The Feds balked for a moment, then backed away into the shadows. After they vanished into the darkness, silence ruled the utterly empty streets. Dan's face screwed up into a rageful rictus as he stripped off the Fed's helmet and bashed him with it, dropping the man bonelessly to the ground. He turned to Anne. "We've got to go." "No disagreement there, kid," Zane nodded. Anne hesitated, though, pointing down the street. Zane followed her finger to a powerfully built old man, standing under a streetlight. Even at this distance, he could tell the man was smirking. "No time," Dan said. "Get her back to the ship. I've got to find Jack." And so they ran, through the empty streets, back to Legacy. <> Casher kicked down the door to the set, wasting not an instant heading to the set's entrance, commonly known as the stairwell. He ran through the closer of the two, letting his feet connect with the deck plating just outside the engine room, and as the cool air of night on the ship hit him, he felt a compulsion to look back. He stared at the false stairwell, which was a dead end because they couldn't stack the two sets atop each other. Well, that's what it was. Now, though, it was a stairwell, leading down to the catwalks. He shook his head. Friday was in trouble. No time to think about that. In six long steps, he was through the kitchen, and three more took him to Friday's room. As carefully as he knew how, he carried her down, setting her on her bed as he turned back to the entrance. As he reached for the ladder heading back up, he caught sight of his bullet wound. Or rather, his lack of one. He turned back to Friday, who should be nearly comatose from the deadly cocktail they'd given her. She sat up on the bed resting her face in her hand. He didn't think even once about questioning a miracle, and moved slowly back toward her. "Friday, are you alright?" he asked carefully. She lifted her head, smiling slowly at him. "I've been better. I've been a lot worse." Casher crouched down in front of her. "I thought I was going to lose you..." "I'm not going anywhere, bao bei," she said, pulling his head to her breast. She gave an mirthless laugh, then. "I am getting damn irritated at playin' the damsel in distress, though." Casher didn't say a word. He just stayed exactly where he was. "What happened to us?" he whispered. "Did you see him?" she asked. "Who?" "The old man?" she clarified. Casher leaned back, staring her in the eye. Then it struck him. "On the street. He was staring at me just as the... tussle started," Casher lurched to his feet. "We've go to tell the captain," he asserted. He even went so far as to take a step toward the door, but Friday grabbed his arm and pulled him back. He must have been a portrait of surprise when she drew herself up and locked her lips onto his. He could practically feel the resistance drain out of him. He wasn't sure whether he should be cursing Companion training, or praising it. After a few seconds, he'd made up his mind. All hail the Companions... She broke away, leaving him swaying on his feet. "What...?" "Now," she said. "We've waited long enough." "I thought you were waiting for the perfect time," Casher nearly croaked. She smiled up at him. "Any time I'm with you, it's perfect," she said. Then she seemed a bit appalled with herself. "Alright, that sounded so sappy. I'm just going to..." She was cut off when Casher scooped her up, kissing her as deeply as she had him. He carried her back to the bed, turning to sit on its edge with her on his lap. When she pulled back this time, there were no words, sappy or otherwise. Dark brown eyes just locked with bright green, and he saw her hands pulling out the ribbons of her robe. In a practiced gesture, the entire kit slid off her body like water, pooling on the floor, leaving her gleaming and bare. Casher skimmed his fingertips up her back, eliciting a warm moan from the delicate, gorgeous thing which had somehow found her way to him. She smiled, leaning close enough for her nose to nearly touch his, and said, "You really do know how to make a woman feel special." Casher's face split into a grin. "I've heard the same about you," he pointed out. Her smile became devious, then. "You're going to pay for that," she snarled through her grin, leaning her weight against his and toppling him onto the bed. And oh, how he did pay... <> Jacob stumbled into the cargo hold, panting his exertion and pain. The cool air of the hold felt good on his skin. It felt like home. This was home. This was Legacy. He pulled himself to something like a stand, beckoning behind him whilst doing so. He heard Sylvia approach, and he even heard her yelp of surprise when she passed the inner airlock, and turned around to see the hard vaccuum of space. "Do you believe me now?" Jacob asked. Sylvia eyes turned slowly to Jacob's own, and she sonombulistically lurched toward him. She reached up, resting her fingertips against his sternum. When the digits touched, he felt himself swept up in a tide he could resist. He could see a man, old and wrinkled, sitting in a throne, staring at an empty seat, which he had wept over for years. He could see a that man, younger now, staring at the infinite black. A woman no older than he took his arm in one hand and pulled on him, insistent. He had to run. He could see Malcolm Reynolds on his knees, staring up into the sky with tears running down his face. He could see that agent, Blue, if his memory served, rising from his seat, and staring Jacob in the eye. He could see his father Elias, staring at his wife's funeral pyre as the flames began to leap. With a gasp of shock, and the cold hiss of intaken breath, he opened his eyes, taking in the goods-packed hold of the ship. His ship. His dark gaze picked out Anne in a heartbeat, and he pushed his way past Sylvia, moving to her and pulling her close. "You're alright?" she asked through his embrace. Jacob was a bit startled when he realized he was. The headach was gone as though it had never been. He just smiled down to her, and gave her a small kiss, promise of better things to come. "I couldn't be better, now," he said. His grin turned sour. "What the hell happened?" "I'm not sure," Dan said, leaning against the door to the common area. "Somebody's trying to mess with us," Sylvia reported simply. "Trying to?" Jacob laughed. "Seems like he ruttin' well succeeded," he paused a moment. "Where's Friday? Or Casher, for that matter?" "Oh, they're here," Dan said, rolling his eyes. "How do you know?" Anne asked. Dan responded by giving her a very, very flat look. She raised her eyebrows, then shrugged. "Well, whatever happened, we still have to worry about Kell and the Confederation." "Am I to be disregarded that quickly?" a foreign voice queried. They all turned to the airlocks, and gave a start almost as one as the old man scratched his chin, staring at them with nightmare-black eyes. "My god..." Sylvia whispered. "Jacob, that's..." The old man gave her the barest sketch of a glance, and she flew across the hold as though picked up by a giant and thrown in a fit of rage. She slammed into the fuel tanks with a horrific crash, and Jacob didn't wonder for a moment that this damage was false, like that in the other world. The old man smirked. "Couldn't let her give away the punchline before I set up the joke," he murmured. "No, that wouldn't do at all, would it?" "Get her out of here," Jacob barked to Zane, who didn't waste a moment grabbing Anne's arm and dragging her through the common area and out of harm's glare. Sylvia struggled for a moment to rise, and the old man turned his attentions on her for another barest moment. She struggled and shrieked as though something had put a blender into her bellybutton and turned it up to mince. "Stop that now!" Jacob roared as his hand went to his holster. Empty. The old man smirked, turning his eyes back to Jacob. Dan took a step forward, pulling out his own pistol and squeezing out a practiced round, directly at the powerfully built geezer's skull. The bullet flew true, shattering the man's pate like a rotten melon. He collapsed to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. The two men stared at each other for a moment. That was too easy. Jacob then dashed to Sylvia's side, leaning down to lift her from her extremely uncomfortable looking position against the tank. Dan leaned down, putting his gun back into his holster. "Is she alright?" the youth inquired. "Oh, she'll be fine," the old man's voice came again. Jacob and Daniel both looked up, to see the old man leaning down exactly like they were. He smiled with genuine, if twisted, mirth. "Did you really think it would be that easy to kill me?" Dan's hands leapt back to the holster, but the old man twitched his gaze once more, and this time it was the young Greyson who was catapulted across the hold, colliding first with the wall just beneath the catwalks, then sliding down out of sight behind a stack of crates. The old man grinned. "Good," He said with a smirk. "You've all played your parts beautifully." "Our parts," Jacob demanded, "what do you mean our..." <> "And that's it," Jacob said. Kell nodded, then rose to his feet. "What? Don't have anything to add?" "No," he muttered. "No, I don't. But I have a lot to think about..." "Why did he do that?" Daniel asked, rubbing his no-doubt-still-smarting back. "I don't know," Jacob admitted. "I don't even remember what he looked like," Sylvia snarled. "But still..." "You've seen him before?" Friday asked. "I don't remember, gorramit!" Sylvia shouted. Friday leaned back into Casher's protective aura. Sylvia then took a breath, shook her head and pressed on. "I'm sorry... it's just that... you know what's happened, don't you?" "I don't think so," Friday said. "What happened?" "While we were... not ourselves," Sylvia began. "We, ah... Jacob and..." "You...?" Friday wagged a fingertip between Sylvia and the captain. She went pale then, letting her face settle into her hands. "Oh, Anne." "You had sex with her?" Casher and Dan said at the same moment. Zane just stared at Jacob with the strangest expression. "How could you do something like that to her?" Friday demanded. Jacob rose to his feet. He was in no mood to deal with this right now. "I didn't know who she was," Jacob barked. Friday took a step toward him, jabbing him in the sternum with an accusing finger. "The necklace wasn't a dead giveaway, was it? Or could you possibly have looked for a picture of the two of you before jumping into the sack?" she shouted. "I didn't even know which room was mine," Jacob shouted back. "And I'm surprised as hell that you'd be the one to have an issue with this. You had sex with Casher here when you didn't know who he was." "Yes, but he's mine, and that's not going to change," Friday shot back. "So," Jacob seethed. "You're entire basis for holding the moral high-ground is simple chance? And if it had been me, or Zane, or Dan, you would still be tryin' to tear me down?" "It wouldn't have happened," Friday hissed. "Are you sure," Jacob hissed back. "Are you absolutely positive that if Casher wasn't there, the same thing wouldn't have happened with somebody else?" She seemed poised to snap back at him, but her face seemed to drop. She took a step back. "No," she said, much more quietly. "No, I don't know. And I never will." "It was a mistake," Jacob sighed. "And things won't ever be the same because of it." Zane nodded. "That's the way these things happen, boss," he said quietly. "It was just a mistake." Jacob smiled gratefully that somebody wasn't indicting him. "I'm going to talk to my wife," he said. "Maybe... maybe this can just be a single mistake..." He moved up the stares, a terrible resolve powering his steps even as he wanted to lie down and sleep for a year. Maybe it would just be a single mistake, and she would put it behind them. Jacob gave a start as he heard a thin voice drifting through the hold. 'It isn't,' the voice said. 'And she won't'. He moved through the ship in a near daze, finally reaching the door to the cockpit, where he could see Anne's dark hair spilling down the back of her chair. He took a single step into the flight deck. "Get the hell away from me," Anne said darkly. "Anne, we have to talk." "The hell we do," she turned a bit, casting a hateful glare over her shoulder. "You..." "It was an accident," Jacob said. "Oh, you accidentally ended up with your prick inside that cunt, is that it?" she demanded as she got to her feet. "You always wanted her, didn't you. Ever since you first saw her on Ezra?" "Anne..." "You saw her, and you wanted her, and you knew that getting her on your crew would be the perfect way to keep her around for whenever you developed the itch..." Anne continued, her dark eyes blazing as she advanced on him. He found himself retreating from her. "It wasn't like that..." "And I saw the way you spent so much time with her. The way you put everything in danger to 'rescue' her. From the Reavers, from the Blue Sun," Anne continued, now wound for sound. "You couldn't bear to be apart from her, could you? Because you never knew when the urge would hit you for your favorite little screwtoy?" "Anne, I never..." "How long has this been going on?" Anne demanded. "Have you been fucking her behind my back for the last three years? Is that why you were so dedicated to her? You've been following your dick for the last twelve years since you joined the BlackJack, so why should it be any different here? Hell, if that's the case, why did you even bother marrying me?!" "Anne, I did it bec..." "You damn near sold me out for her, on Londinum. Me. Your wife!" she shrieked. "I'm carrying your child, and you sleep around on me... you filthy rutting pig..." "Anne, I love you..." The words must have been some sort of mistake, because, as soon as he'd voiced them, she gave him a mighty shove, toppling him out of the cockpit and down the stairs into the corridor beyond. She stared down at him, one hand on her belly, like an austere judge, her eyes holding a look so dead of any endearing emotion that he could feel his heart breaking. "You don't deserve to speak those words," she intoned, her voice flat and dead. "Not to the lowliest whore, let alone me. Get the hell away from me." She turned, slamming the door to the cockpit shut and locking it with vengeance. Jacob saw a hand offered above him, and he took it. Zane helped him to his feet, staring at the cockpit. "I screwed it all up," Jacob said, failing to keep the tears from welling in his eyes. "No, you didn't," Zane said. "He did. The old guy. He did this to us. We were just pawns being used for his amusement." "She's never going to forgive me..." Jacob murmured. Zane lead Jacob to his seat at the head of the table, lowered him into it, and leaned over from the side. "She's angry," Zane said. "And she feels confused and betrayed by what happened. Give her time, Jacob. Just give her time." "When did you get so damn wise, anyway?" Jacob asked. Zane just shrugged, moving toward the back of the ship. Jacob dropped his face back into his palm, staring blindly at the edge of the table. As he stared, he could feel Sylvia moving up behind him. "Go away," he said, not even looking back. "Just... leave me alone." He could feel the hurt rolling off of her, but she did as he asked, moving down into her room and closing the door behind her. Jacob just sat there, trying to think of a way --- any way! --- to make things make sense. But above all else, he just wanted to have Anne leaning up against him, to feel her breath on his chest as she drifted off into sleep. And now, he feared he would never feel that way again.


Saturday, October 14, 2006 4:25 PM


Ok...I am frigging confused, and about a lot of things. So I will try to lay things out as I see them so I can be agreed with or corrected:

1) "Legacy" got to be spin-off from "Firefly" cuz of the latter's eventual success. And the former (if not both) are filmed in Toronto?!? Cuz if that was the case...I could kiss you, JtD, for the kind of wonderful fantasies that would cause:D

2) This mysterious old guy made the crew think they were actors on a TV series being filmed 510+ years before show's setting. Then started mucking with their perceived notions of reality. Especially since the actors who play Jacob and Sylvia are/were together, along with the actors playing Anne and...Zane I think? And now Anne wants to kill Jacob for what was done by him while having his head messed with?

3) You are co-head cheese with Joss over both shows?

Oh...and is it possible to get a "cast list" of the actors whom you would want to play your characters? Cuz other than Mark Sheppard, I couldn't guess who was who;)


Tuesday, October 17, 2006 9:14 AM


They're all people I know personally, so you wouldn't know all of them.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006 9:16 AM


They're all people I know personally, so you wouldn't know any of them.

And things will be explained in time.


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Legacy 3:13. Among the Ashes of Gahaan
At the farthest fringes of the system lies the Veldt. What secrets lie within its murky mass? What devils call it home?

Legacy 3:12. The Ecstacy, part 2
The crew of Legacy faces further dire straits in its bid to complete its mission. On Londinum, Eli comes to a hard decision.

Legacy 3:11. The Ecstacy, part 1
Niflheim is home to many who are desparate enough to do anything. When one of them comes into Legacy's path, the results prove to be catastrophic.

Legacy 3:10, The Agony
Niflheim. The world collapsed into anarchy as nature betrayed it. Today, it gets more visitors than it knows what to do with, with a cargo-drop on one hand, and a desperate and dangerous fugitive on the other. Something is going to have to give, and the 'Verse help whoever it is that's to do the giving.

Legacy 3:09, Quiet Emptiness
A new job for Legacy means that it must stop off in Three Hills, where Sylvia suddenly finds herself confronting her past.

Legacy 3:08, Running Away
On Boros, Monday begins to see the unpleasant truth that stalks her, while King Benjamin finds his breaking point on Londinum. In the end, they're just running from their problems.

Legacy 3:07, Confederation, Part 3
With the Battle for Hera coming to a climax outside, Anne find's her child's birth beset by soldiers, storming the ship. Jacob and those in the city must somehow find a way through the war-zone before they get killed, either by the Alliance, or by the Confederates.

Legacy 3:06, Confederation, Part 2
Legacy's crew is scattered across a city soon to be embroiled in a full-scale war, and time is running out before the bombs fall. In the sky, two of the greatest military minds clash, while on the ground, the best the crew can hope for is to not be crushed under foot.

Legacy 3:05, Confederation, Part 1
Finally arriving on Hera, Jacob settles down to unwind, but is interrupted by a startling revelation by a member of his crew. And not too far away, even as the Independant Planets sign their Confederation, somebody is waiting in the darkness for the perfect moment to strike.

Legacy 3:04, Definition of a Hero
With mere hours to go before Confederation, Jacob catches wind of a travesty taking place, perpetrated by his supposed allies. Will he jeopardize the conference for the sake of his principles?