Hello fellow coats (smilz) I’ve been gone a while from posting Fan-fic here on Fireflyfans.net, but I’ve got a new story arch and I’m wanting to share. I was going to title it Avelene’s Diary, because the character will come up at some point of the fic, and I was thinking of making it a one-shot story. Anyway, things have changed, it’s now, as you can tell called Purple J’s. And that will become more clear too. Anyhoo, thanks for stopping by and taking a gander. It’s sort of a short read by FFF.net standards, but it’s only chapter one. See ya, Z

PS: Trigger Finger story arch is on hold for the moment. But it’s not over. Can’t say when it will be completed but I will finish it! Z

***********

Purple “J”s : part 1

“Luck”

Cast of players; Malcolm Reynolds & the crew of Serenity, Monty Reynolds, Cecil Deans, and Quinn Greene!

***********

“Luck!” it was a word that left an awful taste in his mouth. It was also a word that went along with a list of other words, phases, and things that put a knot in his stomach when he heard their mention. Like “Divine Intervention” , and “green pea soup”.

The answer to the question he’d asked……about what kind of soup they were having had been Pot Luck, so that already made him not like it before even giving it a chance.

Malcolm Reynolds didn’t believe in Luck, he felt that you made your own destiny, and Divine Intervention was something he’d prayed for in Serenity Valley, it didn’t happen!

He found himself sitting at a table, in a ship’s galley where he’d been many times before. He looked over at the man who sat across from him. The man was big, tall and robust.

Each sat with a bow of soup in front of him and Mal watched, as the burly brut scooped up a spoonful of the green broth and aim it towards his mouth. Some of it spilled, and fell into the man’s beard. It was ignored, just as if it had never happened.

Soup Catcher

Mal had teased Monty about it many times before, and it wasn’t just a name he’d made up. The big man’s beard literally did catch the drippings which slipped from his utensil before they hit the smooth, polished surface of the tabletop. Malcolm Reynolds, Captain of Serenity paid no attention to his own bowl of soup. He was being quite entertained by watching Monty eat his!

“So, when are you going to tell me why you brought me out here to this lonely neck of the woods?” Mal asked.

The big man looked up from his dinner.

“Why, after we eat! Are you in a hurry?”

Mal looked at him. Of course he wasn’t, Monty knew that. Still, Mal wasn’t about to bring the greenish looking substance to his own lips. Just the sight of watching the bear of a man enjoying his supper was enough for him to loose his appetite.

“I’m finished,” the Captain of Serenity spoke.

“Suit your self. I’ll be done after about seven more bowls.”

Mal’s eye grew wide.

“Seven?”

Monty’s eyes never returned to Malcolm. Instead they focused on the pool of olive green liquid before them. The big man left his spoon on the table, picked up the bowl with both hands brought the rim to his lips. He drank deeply the brew, as if it were the tastiest cuisine in the galaxy. Some of it dripped from around the sides, onto his beard and down to the table. When finished Monty set the bowl back onto the table and viewed Mal with a smile of complete satisfaction.

“If I could find a redheaded woman that could cook like that, I’d marry her!” The grizzly of a man spoke.

(Author note; story happens between OMR & Trashed)

88888888888888888

Thirty minutes, and six bowls later……

“Look Mal, I got it straight from the jabberjays mouth,” Monty said.

“What? Jabberjay? There ain’t no such critter,” the Captain of Serenity spoke.

Looking down a the galley table momentarily, Monty then raise his eyes again to look into Mal’s.

“I know, I just made that up. But the thing is, what I’m telling you ain’t made up, it’s the truth. Got it straight from ol’ Cecil back there, my new cook,” Monty gestured with his thumb pointing backwards towards the galley kitchen.

“There was a kid locked away in a stockade during the war……names Quinn Greene. Got a fortune in precious metals, the family riches stored away in a secret hiding place back on Aberdeen.”

Malcolm’s first idea was that he‘d stumbled into something good. But the words “kid” and “stockade” didn’t seem to fit together.

Monty looked at his cousin.

“I know, I know you’re wondering how a twenty-two year old can now, still be stuck in a POW camp.”

Mal’s cousin studied him for a second, “ one word, detention center!”

“Monty, that’s two words.”

The Man let out an exasperating breath.

“Come on cousin, you’re fightin me here……..! They were able to keep him locked up as a kid because they called it a detention center. He‘s old enough now that it can be called prison, or whatever you want. Thing is, his sittin there with the wealth-full of knowledge of the whereabouts of a ton of wealth!” Monty always did have a way with words.

Malcolm did the math quickly.

“That would have made him sixteen during the war,” Malcolm had calculated.

“…….Well, he only remained there because of his mouth. Boy can’t keep it shut. He was thrown into the stockade and has never shut up enough to get himself free. At least when it comes to cussin out the authorities. He’s about as lucky as a fox thrown into a brown beagle pit!”

There was that word again, “Luck”.

Monty continued…..

“Yeah, probably only way to get himself out would be through Divine Intervention!”

“Come on now Monty,” Mal was becoming sick, “can’t we get to the meat and potatoes about this job?”

Monty fell quiet for a second, he actually didn’t know what he had done?

“Ok Mal, I guess we can! You feeling Okay, because you’re turning the most nauseous shade of green pea soup!”

Mal ran from the table, and ran outside….he spilled his lunch from earlier in the day. It was not a pretty sight!

END PART 1