BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - GENERAL

BADKARMA00

The Last Spartan – Chapter Twenty-Three
Thursday, November 29, 2007

And just who is this Prim guy? Hmm?


CATEGORY: FICTION    TIMES READ: 2065    RATING: 0    SERIES: FIREFLY

The Last Spartan – Chapter Twenty-Three Author owns no rights to Firefly, and writes for entertainment only. ------------- Inara was almost asleep in her chair when she heard a slight moan from Mal. She stood at once and went to the side of his bed, pressing the call button. “Yes, Inara?” Simon’s voice came to her clearly. “Simon, I think he’s trying to wake.” “Be right there,” Simon replied, and the intercom went dead. Inara looked at Mal’s swollen face, and wondered again what Mal had said to River that could have prompted such a reaction. River had refused to speak of it, after her initial claim to Kaylee that Mal had said something about Inara. “Wher’m I?” Mal stirred slightly, his good eye opening. “You’re in the hospital on Jayne’s estate, Mal,” Inara told him quietly. “Lie still, Simon is coming.” “Simon’s here,” the doctor informed her, coming up behind. “How are you feeling, Captain?” “Like I went three rounds with Jayne,” Mal mumbled, his swollen jaw hindering his speech. “What hit me?” “River,” Inara told him. “You apparently said something ugly to her, Mal, as surprising as that is. She took offense and slapped you. Only, a slap from her, now, is rather more like. . .” “Like being kicked by a horse,” Mal finished for her, his hand rubbing his jaw carefully. “Is my head still on?” “Yes, but it’s a bit larger than normal,” Simon smiled. Since the news Jayne had shared with him the day before, Simon’s mood had been cheerful in the extreme, and nothing seemed to change it. He hadn’t commented on it, but it was obvious that something had happened to make his worries about his sister evaporate. “Thanks, Simon,” Mal muttered. He looked up at Inara. “Shouldn’t you be seein’ to Jayne’s house, and what not?” His tone indicated what he thought the ‘what not’ would entail. Inara’s slight smile at seeing him well faded, replaced by sadness. “You’re quite correct, Captain,” she told him cooly. “I have duties to attend to. If you will excuse me, doctor?” Before either man could say anything, she had made a graceful exit from the room. Simon frowned down at Mal. “You know,” he said softly, “there was a time when I admired you, Mal. I never really liked you, not for the first few months I knew you, but I admired you. For the life of me, I can’t recall just why, now days. She sat here for hours, waiting for you to wake, and that’s the best you can do?” He checked Mal’s eye reaction with a small penlight, and examined his face. Mal endured this in silence, chastised by the young doctor’s statement. “You’re recovering nicely,” Simon told him in a cold, professional tone. “You need at least three days of bed rest, and then we’ll see about getting you on your feet again.” “I ain’t staying in bed, in Jayne’s house, for three days,” Mal retorted. Simon nodded. “I expected as much. Feel free to get up when you like. When you fall, someone will be along to help you back into bed. Or, if you prefer, you can lay in the floor. You won’t be able to keep your balance for another day or so, and you’ll suffer bouts of dizziness for at least another two days, after that.” Mal glared at him for a moment, but finally nodded his assent. “Fine, you’re the doctor,” he said grudgingly. “Yes, I am,” Simon nodded. “I don’t know what you said to River, Mal, but if I were you, I’d rethink it.” With that, Simon left. Mal watched him go, wanting to be mad. But he was to blame, and he knew it. He’d said what he did to hurt Inara, so why had he said it to River? He was lashing out at everyone around him, and there was no good reason for it, save that he wasn’t in charge anymore. Somewhere along the line, decisions had been taken out of his hands, and he didn’t like it. But why? Was it his right to keep people under his thumb? He had been incensed over Jayne’s. . .biting, River. But had it been because he didn’t like what Jayne was? Or because he hadn’t been the one to make the decision? Or, he amended, because he hadn’t been informed of the decision, by Simon? In other words, Simon hadn’t asked for Mal’s approval. He reviewed his actions over the last week or so. Jayne had gave River life, when she’d lost it defending his ship, while Jayne and Zoe had saved both him and Inara from a terrible fate at the hands of Atherton Wing. And he’d reacted by throwing a fit, demanding that Jayne leave the ship, and giving both him and River, with Simon thrown in on the side, the cold shoulder. And he’d treated Zoe, Inara and Kaylee badly as well. Thinking of Zoe reminded Mal of the confrontation in front of the infirmary. Zoe had never once, in all the time they’d been together, openly defied him. Yet she had stood up to him then, forcing him to back down. That had to mean something, and so far as Mal could see, the only possible meaning was that he had been wrong. But he was still the Captain, another voice raged within. He had the right to know everything that happened on his ship, and have final say on it. Even. . . Even whether or not a member of his crew lived? The idea hit Mal hard, as he realized, completely for the first time, the implication of his fit at the infirmary. Had he had his way, River would be dead. His eyes closed as the realization hit. How could he have been so selfish? So stupid? So. . .uncaring. Jayne had been right on one thing, Mal decided. He wasn’t the only person to ever lose a war. . .no, I didn’t lose the war, the thought came to him suddenly. My side lost the war, not just me. I ain’t the only one to suffer for that, either. He’d hid behind the war long enough, he decided then and there. He’d had enough of ‘stickin’ it to the Alliance’, as well. There had to be more to life than that. Had to be. Mal was sure that Inara was lost to him, probably forever. He didn’t blame her. But maybe Zoe and Kaylee were still willing to forgive him. Once he was well, he’d see. Then, when the time was right, things would change. No more seat of the pants living. Both he and his crew deserved better. Satisfied that, for once, his head was on straight, despite River’s best efforts otherwise, Mal drifted into a peaceful sleep. He’d make things right, as well as he could, and start fresh from there. --------------- Jayne and River were in the gym, River once again developing her sword skills. And getting her head handed to her on a depressingly regular basis. “Tah mah de,” she grumbled as her bok went flying from her grasp. Again. “Temper,” Jayne admonished sternly, resisting the urge to laugh. It would destroy the gravity of lesson time. River muttered again, under her breath, and Jayne did laugh this time. “I’ll have you know that my mother and father were legally married before the King of Sparta, meus rosa,” he told her with a grin. River had the grace to blush at that, looking at the floor. “Sorry,” she muttered, and he smiled. “No need,” he assured her. “I have been called much worse, though never by one so beautiful.” His words had the desired effect, and River smiled, sheepishly. “Enough, for today,” Jayne told her. “Once the temper is lost, the steel is no longer worth working. We shall take up here, tomorrow.” “I will be worth working, tomorrow?” River asked, and Jayne could sense the underlying question beneath the humor. “You will,” he nodded firmly. “Do not be discouraged, meus rosa,” he told her. “You have been working just over three months. I have been using the blade for three thousand years. However many months that is.” “Thirty-six thousand, three hundred eighty three months, two weeks and five days,” River smirked. “Approximately. Based on information provided by you concerning birth date, and year.” “Close enough,” he grinned, shaking his head. She was a genius, no question. “A prodigy,” she nodded, smirking again. Jayne couldn’t help but notice that even the smirk was beautiful. River’s face softened as she read that thought. “You think the nicest things, mi amor,” she whispered. ------------------ Zoe walked out onto the huge veranda behind the house, and sat down. She had to hand it to Jayne, he had a tremendous home. Zoe felt no jealousy, at least not for the wealth of the place. She did feel a tinge of regret that she, herself, had no home. It had been a dream she had shared with Wash, once upon a time. They would find themselves a place, and settle down. Perhaps working a regular freighter run, or even planet side transport. Raise children, and live like other folks. That wouldn’t happen now. Zoe sighed at the thought. So much lost. “What troubles you, Miss Zoe?” Prim asked. Zoe shouldn’t have been surprised. It seemed that Prim was everywhere and no where. All the time. “Nothing, Prim,” she smiled. “Just thinking on ‘might have been’s’, is all.” “Nothing harder on the mind or the heart,” Prim nodded in understanding. Zoe eyed the man carefully. “You’re very philosophical, Prim,” she said at last, and he smiled. “I suppose so,” he admitted. “Comes with the territory, I’m afraid.” “Territory?” Zoe asked. “And what territory would that be? Making sure that Jayne’s. . .Janos’, life is still here whenever he gets the urge to drop by?” Zoe tried to keep her voice neutral, but noticed Prim stiffen slightly. “Do you require anything, Miss Zoe?” he asked in his professional voice. “Prim, I didn’t mean it like that,” Zoe said at once. “I don’t think of Jayne like I once did,” she added. “I know Mal has been an ass, but he’s had lot’s of practice. Besides, I can’t dislike Jayne, Janos. He saved me from the Reavers. Whatever else he may have done, or said, nothing can trump that. Not to me.” She thought she saw the ghost of a smile flit across Prim’s face. “Then you understand, perhaps, why I remain here. As Lord Janos’ assistant. I, too, owe him my life.” Zoe nodded, having expected that much. “He does have a habit of doing things we don’t expect of him, doesn’t he?” she smiled. “He does that,” Prim nodded, a real smile playing across his features this time. “Sit for a while, Zoe, and I will tell you how I came to meet Lord Janos, the Last Spartan.” ***************** “The lines are broken,” Prim Vatorian informed his general. “We cannot hold our ground, milord. We either fall back and try to regroup, or we fall. Those are the choices left to us.” The battlefield was in the middle of nowhere. No songs would be written about this dirty little battle. No medals awarded. It was simply the meeting of two forces, on ground neither really wanted. “We will not retreat before this barbarian scum!” General Litarius exclaimed, his gauntlet covered fist slamming into the map table before him. “We are Roman soldiers, Centurion, and we will fight as such! To the last man, if needed. Do you understand me?” “I do,” Vatorian nodded. “I shall return, then, and prepare. With your permission?” Litarius waved his hand at the Centurion in disgust, and Prim exited the tent. He and his men would die here, today, because of a prideful fool. Vatorian shook his head at the foolish waste of Roman blood, but there was nothing to be done but accept it. Placing his helmet back atop his head, he returned to the men he commanded. The battle rolled into the afternoon, men falling like leaves on both sides. But by late afternoon, Prim Vatorian’s grim prophecy had come nearly to pass. His own command, bolstered by men from other companies long since swallowed by battle, occupied a small knoll, fighting on, despite the hopelessness of their situation. As the fighting waned, a horn blew on the fields below, and a lone horseman galloped to the base of the small rise. “Who commands here?” the rider asked. He was a large man, clearly a seasoned warrior, and one accustomed to command. “I command,” Prim answered calmly. He walked forward to meet the large rider. “Centurion?” the horseman frowned. “You have led this area of the field for the duration?” “Since before noon, yes,” Prim nodded. “My congratulations, Centurion,” the rider bowed his head. “You have fought a magnificent engagement. You and your men are to be commended. I am Commander Junta,” he added, extending his hand. Prim took it, nonplused. “I come to offer you and your valiant men a chance to surrender. You have my word that you will be treated honorably. Valiance such as yours demands such. You have fought well today.” “I regret that we cannot, Commander,” Prim answered formally. “We have sworn fealty to Rome, and cannot lay down our arms. Had I had my way, we would not have fought here, but once the battle is joined, fight we must.” “I understand,” Junta had assured him, surprising Prim. “I respect your dedication, Roman. May your death be as glorious as your life, Centurion,” Junta offered his hand again, which Prim took. Junta handed him down a heavy wineskin. “A gift, one warrior to another,” he explained, and Prim took it. “I will use it to ease the suffering of our wounded,” he said gratefully. Junta nodded as if he had expected no less. “Die well, Roman,” Junta saluted, and turned his horse. “And you, Commander,” Vatorian replied. “And you.” ***************** Zoe’s eyes widened as she heard the tale. “You mean you. . .you’re like. . .?” “Like Lord Janos?” Prim smiled. “No, there is no one like him, anywhere. But yes, I too, and one of them, Lady Zoe.” He stood, smiling down at her. “I fear the rest of that tale must wait for another day, however, as I am needed elsewhere.” With a bow, he left the terrace, leaving Zoe to watch him go, and wonder again how Jayne Cobb could inspire such dedication from the people around him.

COMMENTS



POST YOUR COMMENTS

You must log in to post comments.

YOUR OPTIONS

OTHER FANFICS BY AUTHOR

Archangel Forty-Two
The battle ends, for all but one.

Archangel – Chapter Forty-One
Monty arrives, but is it too late?

Archangel – Chapter Forty
The battle takes a turn for the worst, and time begins to run out for defenders.

Archangel – Chapter Thirty-Nine
Things heat up, and not just on Osiris!

Unneeded
Jayne decides to leave after the damage from Miranda is put right.

Archangel – Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Battle Rolls on, and friends and foes alike began to fall.

Archangel – Chapter Thirty-Seven
THe Battle for Osiris is joined

Archangel - Chapter Thirty-Six
The Battle Begins

Archangel – Chapter Thirty-Five
Simon and River reach an understanding, and the crew separates, starting their parts of the mission.

Archangel – Chapter Thirty-Four
The Crew decideds to help. River gets help from an unexpected source.