Succatash looked up from his keyboard and wiped the beer from his mouth. Mmm, I really do love beer, he thought, and I love writing fanfics about other people who also write fanfics. I hope no one was angry at me for breaking the fanfics mold when I started writing about Sarahetc instead of Firefly. His inner monologue continued. But it’s ok, I will tie Firefly into it soon and make everybody happy.

Succatash’s imagining took over again, and he pictured himself in another place and time, able to fly through space in a grand ship meant for just such. Closing his eyes, he was at the helm, with Sarahetc beside him, of course. In every one of his dreams, he ended up kissing Sarahetc, and this one was no exception. The only thing better than kissing her was having her be the one to initiate it. He loved her more than flying. She was such a powerful woman, who knew what she wanted, and wasn’t afraid to go after it. She passionately kissed him, and her smile and the look in her eyes, when she eventually broke away, was enough to ensure him of her durable love. His absolute joy flying the magnificent ship through the verse filled him, and for the first time in a long time he fell asleep with a satisfied smile on his face.

He awoke to the all too harsh reality of his surroundings. No beer. No spaceship. Not really much of anything, except for the oppressive sameness of his cell. Succatash, as the cranky old man fancied calling himself, hunched against the grey gloominess of his small dank room, his real name long since abandoned. His eye twitched, as he remembered how he used to have a cigarette when he awoke. He had lost track of how long he had been held captive in the little room. At first, the days had blended into the nights, there being no window, but eventually the madness of losing track of light and dark caught up to him, and the weeks and months disappeared in a wash of the unknowable.

Now, in a futile attempt to stave off the growing insanity, he made up stories about a life he tried to convince himself that he had outside of his imprisonment. A life in which he could sit happily in front of his computer, with a beer and smoke in hand, and contemplate fanfics. He imagined wonderful sci-fi television shows, and entire groups of people who liked to talk about them on the internet. But he never saw anyone. If only the cell door would open, just once.