I don't own Firefly or Star Wars. They belong to Joss Whedon and George Lucas respectively.

Job Interview

Zoe actually chewed on her lip a moment. The gesture was so uncharacteristic of her that she was shocked by it. She shook her head to clear it. This Solo was really messing with her head. "The mechanic's job is a temporary one. Our current mechanic was badly wounded by a trigger-happy passenger. That being said, the Captain's been told that you're a man of many talents. He's open to you possibly becoming a member of our crew, once the temp job is over." The question of what his other qualifications were hung in the air.

Solo grinned, his blue eyes shining with mischief, as he answered softly. "I'm considered an expert with small craft. Probably one of the best there is. I'm proficient with larger craft, but not really an expert. I'm also considered one of the best sword-wielders in the 'Verse. There is some big dandy on Persephone that's been after me for a duel for quite some time." The brunet snorted in disdain. "I'm also a decent marksman and a good mechanic. That's my resumé, Ms. Washburne."

"Mrs. Washburne, actually."

"Oh? Well congratulations then, Ma'am." Crystal blue eyes hardened softly. "Now y'all can leave. I've got a race to win tonight." The man abruptly spun about and walked back towards his speeder-bike.

"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Shepherd Book spoke softly. "You've been on your own for so long that you don't trust easily anymore."

Anakin turned back, irritably brushing his hair out of his eyes, and leveling a glare at the preacher who had spoken to him. "You don't know what you're talking about, Shepherd."

The Shepherd shook his head slowly. "You were a browncoat, that much is obvious. Only a browncoat would have the gall to wear a brown jacket on an Alliance-friendly world like New Mexico. Granted, this isn't an Alliance-friendly area, but the bulk of the planet is…"

Anakin huffed in apparent irritation. "The war's long over, Shepherd. What I was doesn't matter anymore. It only matters what I am now."

"And what you are now is a young veteran of a war that you were too young to properly grasp. It has left you traumatized and scared to trust again. We can help you reintegrate, young man."

A bitter laugh echoed through the tent. "Save your psycho-babble, Preacher. I may have been young when that messy little war happened, but I knew exactly what it was about. That war was about a corrupt government with imperialistic aspirations, trying to grind the rest of the galaxy under its heel."

"I'm sure the Alliance seems that way at times…"

Anakin's eyes narrowed into slits. "Don't presume to know what the Alliance is, Shepherd. I've experienced it from a seat you probably never have."

"Oh?"

The holy man's curiosity seemed to stoke the youth's anger, building it swiftly. And then, as quickly as it had built, it was gone. Solo took a deep, meditative breath and appeared to simply wipe his anger from his body like one removes dust from a picture. As the anger melted away, Anakin reopened his eyes and they were calm. "POWs were not treated well by the Alliance, Shepherd. I was worse, though. I was a POW who lived through something I shouldn't have. The Alliance spent the rest of that accursed war trying to figure out how I lived. They were very… thorough in their interrogation tactics."

The Shepherd actually blanched at that. "Not Adelai…"

"Niska?" Anakin looked the preacher over, obviously considering him. "Interesting that you'd know that name, Shepherd. There's not too many that realize that sleazebag was an Alliance torturer during the war, specializing in advanced interrogations."

Zoe had let Book run the show until now, her strange uncertainty when dealing with Solo having left her preferring to let someone else take the lead. She was glad that she had. This conversation was revealing in many senses. It shed some light on Solo's past experiences, making it easier for Zoe to maybe trust him going forward. Mal hadn't given her any real information, preferring to let her evaluate Solo in a vacuum. She was also picking up interesting tidbits on Book and even on Adelai Niska, a somewhat infamous underworld crime boss.

The Shepherd's voice was soft. "I'm familiar with Niska's history. The man is a monster by every standard of the word."

Solo nodded. "Yes, he is."

Zoe decided that now was the time for her to break back into the conversation. "The temporary mechanic's job is yours if you want it. It's good for until our mechanic is back on her feet. After that, assuming that you and the captain are both satisfied, I think we could use a shuttle pilot who doubles as a gunhand."

An expression of interest crossed the young man's face. He was obviously tempted. "It sounds like it might be a good hitch, but I have already committed to tonight's race. There's a hundred platinum entry fee… non-refundable."

Zoe winced at that. A hundred platinum was nothing to sneeze at, especially for an individual. She certainly didn't think Mal was prepared to compensate the man for it. They weren't exactly very liquid at the moment. "And what if we were to leave after tomorrow's race?"

Anakin seemed to consider her for a long moment before responding. "I think that we've got a deal, Mrs. Washburne."

As Zoe shook Solo's hand, she hoped that Mal would be willing to accept the delay on whatever work he was currently scaring up at the Purple Dragon. Still, Inara would probably appreciate being able to work her craft a little longer…

Zoe winced internally. It would probably be best not to use that as an argument in favour of extending their stay on New Mexico. Mal wasn't exactly fond of Inara's work, however useful it might be to them at times.

Jasper