A while ago, I never would have considered writing a fanfic. I love Firefly, and I know my writing and storytelling abilities cannot approach the level of skill needed to produce a story that would be faithful to what we have come to expect from the series. But after reading some other fanfics, I've realized that's not always the point. If it's okay to spend some more time with the characters I've grown to adore by borrowing Joss's creation for a while, then why not do it. It will lack the genius of Firefly, but it will be something.

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Mal watched from the far end of the yard as the prisoner rose to his feet and stumbled his way slowly to the door. Once the man had entered safely, Mal turned away and continued to make his way along the darkened fence line, contemplating the many times he'd escaped death by the slimmest of margins during the war, even as his fellow soldiers fell around him.

At the time he'd considered himself damned lucky, even blessed. Angels watching over him and the like; it was one of the things that had driven him on without question, without hesitation even when all seemed lost. He'd figured he was alive for a reason, and he was going to repay the good Lord's mercy by giving his all.

Now, he found himself wishing one of those shells had ended him. He drew in a breath that was one choked step away from a sob, and launched himself into a run. He drove himself through the night until his legs burned with a pain that finally threatened to overwhelm the hurt in his heart, and staggered on.

The thought of putting a bullet through his own head flickered through his mind and was quickly rejected. He couldn't conceive a situation that would quite drive him to that. No, he simply longed to be out of this misery, or better yet, that he'd never lived to have everything he believed in shatter in front of his eyes.

He wasn't aware of the moment when his muscles finally gave out and the need for oxygen overcame his brain, but the n