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.

This bit was hard for me to write; had it appeared on Firefly I would have been in total misery watching it, and I didn't plan it this way. What appears here was what I ended up just writing instinctively; it seemed to fit into the ultimate story I'm planning to tell, I guess. I love this guy, and seeing him suffer is really the last thing I would have wanted to write. I promise you, things will get better for him; one day Mal will smile and joke again.

____________________________________________________________________________

The fantasies that once wandered his imagination had hardened into reality. For the first time since before the war ended, Mal felt his mind snap clearly into focus with a deep sense of relief from the helpless inability to control his destiny. This was the chance he had wished for, to go down fighting in a blaze of gunfire and leave this miserable world behind. The gun in his hand twitched as he tightened his grip and prepared to take aim, but he stopped as conflict tore at him.

Mal knew he had only seconds to act. Problem was, he didn't much like his options now. As reality set in, he found himself not relishing the idea of opening fire on the men rushing towards him. Although a bitter struggle, this was no war. While the guards maintained a solid distrust and often dislike of the men in their charge, most had treated him with respect and dignity. Killing them at random seemed an unpleasant way to repay that small kindness.

He didn't