steelartisan: (tears)
[personal profile] steelartisan
Piotr comes back to Serenity after spending a few hours wandering New York.

He can't go charging in to free her. Not alone. And both Logan and Kurt are out of contact. He won't know who to trust. He doesn't know about bringing in others, because. Kitty might be making a point, she likes to make those. He was paying attention when she told him stories of her life at the University of Chicago. And he isn't sure he can face Scott right now. Not just yet. He might lose his temper because he didn't help her, they're family.

So, he wanders back to Serenity, and finds himself in the cargo bay again at the foot of the stairs. And isn't sure what to do from there. He has her box in his duffel bag over his shoulder but should give out her notes? She isn't dead. But.

He really isn't very good at this side of being a hero.

Date: 2006-11-29 04:43 am (UTC)
river_meimei: (glancing)
From: [personal profile] river_meimei
River stares at the empty doorway.

"Zhùyì," she says, very low, and for a moment she's motionless and intent. Poised, as if she might pull free of Simon's arm and follow Piotr in a swift focused run.

(My turn)

And then her face crumples again, and the impression is gone.

Date: 2006-11-29 04:51 am (UTC)
simon_doctor: (sober)
From: [personal profile] simon_doctor
Simon's looking at the letters.

He can't make himself believe there's going to be a secret code hidden in any of them.

Date: 2006-11-29 05:04 am (UTC)
river_meimei: (don't know what i'm saying)
From: [personal profile] river_meimei
There's one with his name on it. One for Jayne, and one for Mal, and more.

Not one for River. That is, presumably, the piece of paper tucked into one ballet shoe.

River doesn't look at any of them. Her eyes are closed, and her face tipped upwards; tears slide down her already blotchy face, dripping onto her shirt and coat, and her breath heaves.

Date: 2006-11-29 05:48 am (UTC)
simon_doctor: (eyes closed)
From: [personal profile] simon_doctor
He picks up and unfolds the one with his name on it, moving automatically.



Two words.

Thank you.





The impulse to crumple the note in his fist passes quickly; he folds it up again instead, and carefully sets it down with the others.

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Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin

October 2011

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