ALONG CAME A ZHI-ZHU

*special ‘director’s-cut’ final scene*

By BlueHandsTwoByTwo (LarryL)

The years had not been kind to Rutherford A. Warner. Twenty-five of them had passed since his regretful encounter with that insipid Firefly captain, Malcolm Reynolds -God how that cursed name had haunted his every waking moment. The unfortunate collaboration between himself and that rutting scoundrel had sent Rutherford’s financial empire into a dizzying downward spiral that ultimately crashed and ended in bankruptcy. His buyers had lost an awful lot of money in those Zhi Zhu’s and Rutherford lost an awful lot of clients. Word quickly spread through the underground about him and none of it was good. Soon afterwards, nobody called him and nobody returned his calls. Rutherford had been blacklisted. His debts piled up fast and furious and he was forced to sell off everything -his houses, the gardens, the art, every square foot of land he owned. And just when he had nothing left to give...his health failed.

The stroke had left him almost entirely paralyzed. He could only blink his eyes and just barely move the right corner of his lips. He was bedridden in a socialized community hospital and became utterly dependent upon state-appointed health care. Most days, Rutherford would just lie there in his bed, head turned toward the window, and stare outside for hours. What he thought about, what he dreamed about, could only be guessed as he had lost the ability to speak. But those who knew him had no trouble guessing just what he was thinking, or rather, just WHO he was thinking about: Malcolm Reynolds. Just the mere mention of that name would be enough to escalate Rutherford's blood pressure. All he could do was grind his teeth. How he hated that name. How he hated that man. How he hated living in this poor, miserable, useless shell of a body. How he hated wetting himself and having to lie in his own urine-soaked diaper for hours until the nurse made his rounds and could change it. How he hated not bei