100-1000 word ficlets written for the ff_friday challenge at http://www.livejournal.com/community/ff_friday. Each chapter has the ficlet's title, date of the challenge, and the subject.
Author's Note: Ficlet for the LiveJournal ff_chronicles challenge. August 31's challenge: green apples. Set in the beginning of "War Stories." Length: 297 words.
Seeds of Discord
By Trisana McGraw
Mal's glad that he shoved some sense into Jayne's head, even if the only result was a childish gesture. Apples aren't going to make things better, but it's a nice start. Stone by stone, they built a road to Go -- It's a nice start. (Where did that come from?)
Yet he can't help but remember that day in the trenches, when the Alliance sent them booby-trapped apples. He doesn't have to see Zoe to know that she's thinking of the same thing. It's not as strange now as it used to be; the war became a part of their being, something they carry around like their coats, but under the skin. Little things bring back memories; most of them keep him up at night or take him away from whatever everyday job he's doing.
Kaylee and River run by, fighting over one of the many crisp, sweet apples. He remembers Private Lyons' face as he dove for their first food in days and took a bite big enough to choke him. At least he was happy when he died.
Each apple carried a tiny grenade with enough power to reduce a man to dust. Mal watches his crew toss the fruit back and forth, sees the flash of color and the blur of motion. Any minute now, one of those apples is going to go off, blast a hole through his girl's skin, and suck her innards, all nine humans, into space's cold hands.
Jayne brought this danger onboard. Mal wonders if he made the right decision to let Jayne live. He might be scared now, but there will be a time, Mal knows it, when Jayne will get another chance from the enemy, and Mal will have helped him along.
Pop. Pop.
Any minute now.
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