*Joss is the greatest, I'm only borrowing his awesomeness of Serenity/Firefly.

This is my first fic, so be gentle in critism if you have any...also please lemme know if it is interesting enough to, well, keep your interest.

She’d still be a prisoner of that dusty lot if it wasn’t for him. Grounded and broken, the only thing she could do was look up at the beautiful, open sky and beg it to get a little bit closer. But it never would, and she soon lost faith in the possibility of ever flying again. But, when rain would come, it cleaned the desert of ’a her and renewed that faint ember of hope she held deep inside. However, rain doesn’t last forever in the desert, and soon the sun presented that gorgeous sapphire impossibility: the sky. It was one of those days that never seems to end, especially when there don’t seem to be anything to do, or anyone to talk to. The sun was at it’s peak…and she was there…praying that great big blue would stop taunting her inability to grab it. Something was different though. There was a feeling inside her that kept growing…it had been since sunrise. She couldn’t quite place the strange feeling, a deep one that she felt in every nut and every bolt holdin’ her together. Had she been in working condition, she would’ve shuddered. And then she saw Mr. Wenton. Frankfurt Wenton owned the lot she called home, and every ship on it. And Mr. Wenton was a dirty salesman. She watched him sell ships to more than a few foolish customers. Most of the ships he sold were in worse condition than her less than operational one. But that didn’t stop him from selling them to people, even if they were lacking in brain department. He didn’t bother on informing them the parts and pieces that they’d soon need in order to stay in the air and out in the black. He did his job, made his easy money, and never thought twice about what ever happened to his customers in the end. Staring at Mr. Wenton from across the small distance separating them, she wished she had some way of ending his shameless dealings. He was showin’ off a real piece of gos-se to a young man, not real young, but young enough to look ignorant of such things as ships. She had seen Mr. Wenton and his new customer walkin’ around earlier. And now they stopped in front of that ugly vertical pencil of a ship. She sadly admitted to herself that it too, would probably sell faster than she would. At least it would run for a little while. She stared at the young man and she felt sorry for him. He would end up stuck on the ass end of some backwater planet too. With a ship that wouldn’t run, with no hope. Staring at the sky, wishing he could jump right back into it. Stranded and broken, just like her. Had she the ability to cry, she would’ve poured out every ounce of her shattered soul. The young man was no longer looking at the other ship, but staring at the mountains behind her. She soon realized that he wasn’t staring at the mountains, but staring straight at her. And then she identified what that feeling was. It had been what seemed like a million years since anyone had stared at her less than attractive constitution. And the feeling that engulfed her felt unnatural. She had long since given up hope along with faith. She’d learned this combination to be more than detrimental. But his stare was so piercing, she wished she’d had some way to blend into the barren desert and sky. Especially that magnificent cloudless sky. Sadly, that overwhelming feeling of freedom and possibility left with him.