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5 times fic for Whedonland
Jul. 11th, 2012 01:24 amFive Times Zoe Was Late
Warnings: Angst, implied non-con
1. "Zoe? Zoe Mayalin Alleyne! Where is that girl!" Zoe huddled under the shuttle console, her eyes wide with misery. She couldn't face anyone, least of all her Ma with her sharp eyes, those eyes that saw her boyish daughter's figure fill out and gaze become occasionally demure, who saw the dirtside boys drawn from their stoops and stands and shops to stare and shyly--or boldly--try to speak with the young, strong blossoming girl who'd emerge from the transport ship to buy goods. Even a mother, a father, four brothers, and a whole crew of women and men, cousins and uncles and aunts, couldn't watch the girl every minute of every day and night as they milled out among the locals on planet after planet.
Sure enough, on one such familiar settlement, Zoe had met up with a frequent friend, Joey, and their martial arts workouts and target shooting and bantering had become something more, a run to the other side of the creek and wrestling in the tall cool grass.
And now this. But she couldn't keep hiding forever, not even for nine months, and even if she could, what about after that? A baby? Her? Now? Sighing and biting her lip, she got up, looked up into The Black, and prayed for a miracle.
2. Corporal Zoe Alleyne leaned on the cannon and gazed out at the night sky. In another circumstance she could almost enjoy the cool dark quiet--small enough pleasures to be had in the hell of war. But no, as if being in a dirty, miserable, stinking, year-long battle weren't enough, she had to go and screw it up further--literally!--and now she was counting the days, with a gut-punch of panic, cursing to the heavens that her idiotic dalliance with that that hundan Tracy might have left her pregnant.
3. Zoe Alleyne looked up through the bars at the slate grey dawn sky then down at the cell cot where she made another scratch with her spoon. 42 days. She pressed her hand against her abdomen and prayed to whatever deities had long since abandoned them.
4. Zoe Washburne trudged out of the silver-foiled building to rejoin her husband unspooling wire across the sand. He caught her eye and his scowl softened. "Hey, baby, I'm sorry. It's just that I'm scared. With the things we get into--" he gestured with his head at their surroundings "--it just doesn't seem safe to bring a --" She flung up a hand and looked away. "Just forget it. It's not happening now, anyway." She strode toward the annex without looking back. He watched her go, suddenly stricken.
5. Mal Reynolds locked his eyes on hers. "You think she'll hold together?" Zoe returned his look. "She's tore up plenty, but she'll fly true." Mal released his gaze and nodded. "Could be bumpy." Zoe turned away, barely able to hide the grin that was forming on her lips. "Always is," she said, and as she walked away she patted her belly and murmured, "Oh baby, if you only knew."
Warnings: Angst, implied non-con
1. "Zoe? Zoe Mayalin Alleyne! Where is that girl!" Zoe huddled under the shuttle console, her eyes wide with misery. She couldn't face anyone, least of all her Ma with her sharp eyes, those eyes that saw her boyish daughter's figure fill out and gaze become occasionally demure, who saw the dirtside boys drawn from their stoops and stands and shops to stare and shyly--or boldly--try to speak with the young, strong blossoming girl who'd emerge from the transport ship to buy goods. Even a mother, a father, four brothers, and a whole crew of women and men, cousins and uncles and aunts, couldn't watch the girl every minute of every day and night as they milled out among the locals on planet after planet.
Sure enough, on one such familiar settlement, Zoe had met up with a frequent friend, Joey, and their martial arts workouts and target shooting and bantering had become something more, a run to the other side of the creek and wrestling in the tall cool grass.
And now this. But she couldn't keep hiding forever, not even for nine months, and even if she could, what about after that? A baby? Her? Now? Sighing and biting her lip, she got up, looked up into The Black, and prayed for a miracle.
2. Corporal Zoe Alleyne leaned on the cannon and gazed out at the night sky. In another circumstance she could almost enjoy the cool dark quiet--small enough pleasures to be had in the hell of war. But no, as if being in a dirty, miserable, stinking, year-long battle weren't enough, she had to go and screw it up further--literally!--and now she was counting the days, with a gut-punch of panic, cursing to the heavens that her idiotic dalliance with that that hundan Tracy might have left her pregnant.
3. Zoe Alleyne looked up through the bars at the slate grey dawn sky then down at the cell cot where she made another scratch with her spoon. 42 days. She pressed her hand against her abdomen and prayed to whatever deities had long since abandoned them.
4. Zoe Washburne trudged out of the silver-foiled building to rejoin her husband unspooling wire across the sand. He caught her eye and his scowl softened. "Hey, baby, I'm sorry. It's just that I'm scared. With the things we get into--" he gestured with his head at their surroundings "--it just doesn't seem safe to bring a --" She flung up a hand and looked away. "Just forget it. It's not happening now, anyway." She strode toward the annex without looking back. He watched her go, suddenly stricken.
5. Mal Reynolds locked his eyes on hers. "You think she'll hold together?" Zoe returned his look. "She's tore up plenty, but she'll fly true." Mal released his gaze and nodded. "Could be bumpy." Zoe turned away, barely able to hide the grin that was forming on her lips. "Always is," she said, and as she walked away she patted her belly and murmured, "Oh baby, if you only knew."
