(Author's note: This was a joint effort on livejournal some years back. It is still one of my favorite pieces, and the source of the title for my blog. It is not canon for either series.)
He could feel the burn in his throat from a three day drunk and no food, but he didn't give a damn. Ordering yet another bottle of the shiong mao niao he'd been drinking, he gave the two toughs who'd been eyeing him a good long look at the service pistol he carried. He might be one of the few to walk out of the guai that was Serenity valley, but that didn't mean he had to much care about it.
She walked into the strange place, looking around. Charming, real charming... gods but they better have some decent alcohol around. She'd spent the past three weeks working from job to job, scraping together what she could. her bruises were mostly healed, too bad she couldn't say the same for the heap of metal that was once a ship. It was ironic really, the first blackbird had flown beautifully, without a hitch, the second... test flight was a dream... the moment she flew it into combat... she was gods knows where. And no one was coming looking. last she'd seen of the fleet they were prepping to jump out of a heavily one sided fight. they'd taken heavy losses and she would be counted among them.
He staggered to his feet, with the vague intention of going and using what passed for a mens room in this place - or more likely just the back wall, having actually seen the mens room. As soon as he did so, he saw more than one set of eyes turn to take in the tattered remains of his independent uniform, the brown coat. Swaying as he moved along the bar, he managed to come to a halt just in front of the leg someone had deliberately stuck out in front of him. "Je shr shuh muh lan dong shi?" He demanded, looking down into the florid face of some black-shirted figure sprawled out in his chair with some buddies. Someone was out huntin' for a fight? Suited him damn fine. Maybe another few days unconscious would take away the faces...
She made her way to the bar, bristling at the eyes that followed her. Lords were there any places around here where she wasn't instantly sought as a piece of meat. It didn't tale long for her to spot the potential fight brewing at the far end of the bar so she made her way over slowly. Things looked very one sided... and given she'd had about enough of this place she downed the two drinks she'd ordered quickly and closed in. Nothin made her day like evening up the odds a bit. Besides, it gave her a reason to hit something.
The ape in the suit could be an Alliance hireling ... hell's, he could be a gorram undertaker on holiday out slumming it, wouldn't make much difference anyway. Sprawling with your leg out was amateur hour ... as he found out, when Mal took advantage of the position to kick him between the legs hard enough to knock him and his chair over. Flipping the table into one of his friends... now that was just for meanness' sake. He saw their friends moving with the obvious intent of turning him into a smear on the bar floor. Well, let them try ... he was three months dead already, just still movin'.
When the fight broke out she was right in the thick of it. The old gorilla never saw the punch coming, especially not from her. Three weeks of frustration started to vent out through her fists, taking more than the occasional blow herself. Two frakkin years on the run and she winds up lost in combat because of a frakkin engine malfunction, no chance to even go out in a blaze of glory like they'd always talked about. Presumed dead, but still breathing, just with nothing left to live for, lost on a backwater world with no way of contacting home. Everything she'd found was sub-light... no one even knew what FTL was GODS what a frakkin mess she'd gotten into this time. She'd gone and gotten herself distracted, which resulted in her back impacting a table at a rather good speed, sending splinters of wood flying
Grinning savagely, he found he was almost enjoying himself. They weren't as drunk as he was, not by a long shot; he made up for that by not giving a damn when they hit him, and teaching them that anything could be a weapon. He barely registered the stranger pitching in, until she smacked down the hoe-tze he'd been aiming for. Didn't she know it's rude to interrupt a perfectly good fight? That didn't make him any happier when someone nailed her with a sucker punch, though; something he came to regret when, after apparently doubling up to gasp for breath, Mal laid him out with a loopy right that started somewhere round his boots. Got to make things fair, after all...
She got back to her feet, still winded but fighting like a wildcat when some of the guys started getting just a little too touchy feely rather than fighting. She laid out two before a third got hold of her by surprise, catching her in a hold that had her arms immobilized. That didn't' stop her feet from nailing a fourth in the nether regions so hard he would have to take his shirt off the next time he needed the head.
He saw the woman getting grabbed, goons havin' a hard time getting a hold on her fancy shiny suit. She landed a couple of seriously sweet blows before someone got a grapple hold Mal didn't much approve of. He settled that one by whipping a stone bottle of something off the table and into the back of his head in a single smooth motion, ramming his head backwards into the face of the man trying to grab him from behind. God, but he loved a good fight - nothing else seemed to get the blood workin', these days.
When the bottle broke and the goon released her, by way of falling unconscious, she gave the bottle wielder a nod of thanks, a quick look-over and a wink before returning to the thick of the fight. landing a few more decent blows before some very official looking people started filing through the front doors.
"Oh, tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiou doh sai-jin wuh dhu pee-goo. Some people just don't respect the sanctity of a good bar fight. We oughta hustle, less'n you got an urge to go play nice with some more alliance flunkies..." He started looking round for his hat, too drunk to remember he'd not been wearing one. His fists ached along with half the rest of him, but that was a damn sight better than feelin' nothing but numb.
"Hustlin sounds good right about now..." She started for the back exit, reaching over and grabbing hold of the sleeve of his coat to tug him along. "come on. they don't look none to happy..."
"Wha..?" He staggered after her, pulled along like a cargo barge being shoved by a tug. "But my gorram drink's back there... well, somewhere..."
"I'll buy you another, figure I owe you least a couple for some good saves."
"Hah. Ain't nothin' needed owing after you laid into them... hell, you might owe me for not letting me get my gorram head split open, put an end to this whole sorry show." He crashed through the side door to the bar, movin down the alley behind via a combination of momentum and frantic footwork as he tried to avoid falling over.
She looped his arm over her shoulder to help steady him as they both careened down the alleyway, taking refuge behind a large dumpster until the commotion died down on the street in front. Fortunate for them they had slipped out and the fight had raged in without them, and had since spilled into the street infront of the building.
He sat back against the wall, gasping for breath and going green alternately, until at last he had to wrench himself up from behind the dumpster to be noisily sick into it. At least eh commotion out on the street front covered the noise, although right now all he could hear was the little people banging around inside his head with sledgehammers
She leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily. She watched him carefully, making sure he wasn't in need of help, and didn't fall head first into the dumpster. She peeled off the top half of her flight suit, rolling up her shirt to check her ribs, which were now turning a rather nasty shade of deep purple. "Frak me..." She groaned, touching a badly bruised area very gently.
He finished bringing up the last few liquid meals he'd had, hawking to clear his throat a few times before pulling a battered flask out of his pocked and taking a nip from the lid, using it to rinse his mouth out. He turned back to the woman who'd helped him, his eyes flicking quickly to the intricate pattern of bruises revealed along her ribs. "You look like you could use a drop of this yourself," he offered, holding out the flask.
She nodded, taking hold of the flask and tossing back a fair mouthful. She swallowed hard, coughing a little at the burn that coursed down her throat. She passed the flask back. "hell of a right hook you got... that was some nice shot"
She carefully smoothed her tanks back into place, hiding the bruises for now.
He couldn't help chuckling a little. Ribs that looked like a new silk print, and she was talking punches? His kind of woman. "It's pure motivation ... and knowin' that the third most powerful force in the 'verse is stupidity. Man looks like he's goin' down, most assume he is down."
He looked back over his shoulder, listening to the whine of the local police skimmers hauling up outside the inn. "Unless you're wantin' to see one of the Alliance's more scenic jail cells, we ought to hustle on to somewhere else. Plenty of bars left I ain't been thrown out of yet..."
She laughed, getting to her feet. "Lead on... you probably know this place better than I do.. hell three weeks and I don't even know where the frak I am." She paused, looking over at him with a half drunken grin. "Where am I anyway?"
"You're in an alley with a man of dubious moral worth, if that helps." He pulled himself back up to his feet, looking down the alley. "Planet's named Ariel, and it's one of the by-the-grace-of-god new adoptee worlds of the Alliance, making our lives better every day." He practically spat the words out, contemptuously. He started to pat down his pockets, expression improving a little when he found what he thought he'd collected; the first gorilla's wallet.
"Well, lookee here... seems as if the Alliance is payin'. Ain't that awful sweet of them?"
Kara couldn't help but chuckle. "Dubious moral worth... I may have had similar said about me a time or two." She followed him down a twist and turn of alleyways, looking for the next bar. have to admit, Never heard of Ariel."
"Fine upstandin' woman like you? I find that a mite hard to believe." He could already taste that next beer, washing away the last of the rough spirit he'd been drinking. "You don't look like an independent or a rogue spacer."
They turned onto one of the many slum streets located beneath the shining cities of Ariel. "Ariel's a second tier colony, and capital of this particular festering part of the 'verse, accordin' to the Alliance. Now they're busy civilisin' it more. Nother ten years, folk won't be able to breathe here without Alliance permission."
He stopped outside a dive that looked much like any other, save for the blue edging to the sign. "Now, this is more like it." He set one hand to the door, before pausing. "If you're new here - and I find it also a mite hard to believe you can be here and not know what Ariel is ... then you won't know about the snatcher gangs. Stay close to people you trust ... else some group'll snatch a fine woman like you off the street, send you out as bonded property."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "They can frakkin try, I'd kill the bastards." She followed him into the bar, ordering a beer and venturing to a table in the back corner that was unoccupied.
A quick glance around reminded her of some of the seedier places she'd spent her shore leave over the years. The type of place where no one was interested in your business but you. The type of place that was almost comfortable. She eased down into the bench seat that curved round the back half of the table, wincing as her battered body screamed in protest.
She reached for the pitcher of beer she had brought with her to the table, not bothering with a glass she downed several healthy swallows before looking over at him. "I got separated from my fleet, they probably think I'm dead. Engine malfunctioned during a cylon attack and I wound up bouncing into the atmosphere of this lovely little place. Blackbird was never meant for atmospheric flight so she crumpled like a tin can. Guess most would say I'm lucky to have walked away. now, if you call being stranded on a planet that you've never heard of where no one has a frakkin clue what you're talking about and doesn't give a frakkin damn then yeah I guess I am lucky." She finished with several more long swallows of beer, the alcohol starting to numb the ache in her sides.
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