A/N: First off, I am a little late with this. This was meant to be up for Serenivarsary but I was a little busy watching the movie at Melbourne's Serenivarsary day. But I also want to say sorry. I'm not that good at writing stories for characters with a clear personality and this was just hard to do. So sorry Firefly fandom, I can't write Firefly fanfiction well.

My name is Serenity. I am a spaceship – a 03-K64– Firefly class transport ship, to be precise. My current owner and captain is Malcolm Reynolds. But even he is unsure of my full story. So here I write my own story, so my entire crew knows it. I have had many captains over the many years. And not one wrote a captain's log or any record of their time piloting me. So here, in the open files, I write my tale where they can see it.

…...

My story began on August 22 when my keel was laid. I was one of the earliest Series 3 Firefly ships to be made and soon became one of a fleet of approximately 28,000 Fireflies, fitted with wing-mounted missiles and multiple gun emplacements. My fleet fought in several battles during the war, but after a small time I was put in a shipyard on Hera, a new Firefly that was only a little damaged, because of recalls. They discovered a glitch in the system that gave us quaint personality quirks. Despite this, I was almost immediately snapped up by an incredibly strange captain.

…...

This captain's name was Peter Gonpadi. He purchased me not to fly me but to use me as a home on the planet Osiris. He experimented in the medbay for a year and toyed with my engine. I'm not going into much detail with this captain as to be plain, there is not much to discuss. I'm just going to say I may have gotten a little bored. And after the incident when I shook to keep my parts from freezing up entirely and he spilt chemicals on his arm he put me back in that shipyard.

…...

Where I was taken once more. This captain, however, was a smuggler. I was her ship for a good number of years and she had a good crew. The pilot understood my little quirks and was light in his touch while the mechanic understood how I worked better than the many mechanics I'd had before ever did. Better than the Alliance mechanics. Better than the tinkerer. I was happy to be their ship. I believe that if I could have a choice before I knew Mal, I would have stayed with them for as long as my engine turned. But all good things must come to an end.

…...

My captain was offered a job. 'We just get the goods off that dead ship and we go. It's easy. It'll be in and out.' She said. Boy was she wrong. An Alliance cruiser caught us just as we were detaching. We were pulled in and they were interviewed. I know how it ended. They were put in the cruiser's jail cells and I was auctioned off to another captain.

…..

By this time I was quite battered and worn from traveling across the 'Verse which meant I was harder to sell as a good ship. But eventually, someone purchased me. This captain ran a museum. You see, by this point a gen 3 03-K64 Firefly – class transport ship like yours truly was quite a rare ship and was ready to be displayed in his Space travel museum on Sihnon. But he was sent bankrupt in a year. His museum wasn't earning him much and buying me had taken a large amount of his credits. But the many, many years he had spent ship collecting were about to pay off. The Alliance wanted a bunch of old ships for some reason that I was soon to find out…

…..

I was sold once again to the Alliance for a new project. They were taking old ships and retro-fitting them with cannons, laser rifles, the lot. You name the weapon; I probably had it fitted on me. I wondered quietly why. And they waited, biding their time. Naturally rumours started. Not rumours spread between the ships but rumours we heard from the men and women who fit on our guns on. Discussions of Serenity Valley and Independent camps. I hoped those rumours were just rumours. Tragically they were not.

…..

That's right. I flew and fought in the Battle of Serenity Valley. Against my current captain. I fired at him, killed his comrades. And I regret it now, but those days I felt no pity, no guilt. I cared not that I killed hundreds of good men and women. At least, not until we won. Then the pain creaked in my engine, the regret choked my systems. We old ships were disarmed and abandoned in my first shipyard, the one on Hera. And years passed.

…..

Then finally a man came looking at us old ships. I didn't care at first, but then I saw him properly. He was a man who had seen what I'd seen. And I fell in love with this man, Malcolm Reynolds. He followed the salesman across the yard where he was shown a fine ship, almost new and only slightly dented. But he paid no attention to the salesman. His eyes wandered to the old ships. And he turned to look at me. He admired me as I admired him. He cared not for the new ship. I, a battered old Firefly, was the ship he wanted. And I was the ship he got.