You CAN'T take the sky away from me. (Wash/City, closed)
At 12:35am from the park where Serenity, the spaceship, sat a small vessel shot up into the sky reflecting pale in the street lamps until it disappeared into the stock image quality starry, black sky. For a moment it was as if the craft never appeared. Then, from high above, came a bloom of red and smoke billowing from the explosion masked some of the star shine as a hunk of metal that used to be space worthy crashed down in nearly the same trajectory it had arose.
From the ground metal collided with grass forming enormous gouges in the otherwise pristine field right outside the park pond. Nocturnal animals scattered as the tremors and sounds of tons of ship parts slammed into the ground. What was left was a shallow crater and blackened ground. In the middle of all of this wreckage was a pale man with light hair smeared in red.
Wash had been having a bad week. Heck, he had been having a bad life, recently. He couldn’t sleep and when he did he had terrible nightmares filled of dying and pain. He couldn’t shake them. But he was doing extremely well in hiding all of these growing anxieties. He was the same cheery guy he always was. And, for a short time each day, he believed he was the same cheery guy he always was. But he wasn’t.
He was a man forced from a marriage to a woman he loved more than anything because of bad timing. He was a father figure to a girl who was going through more than he had any hope of understanding. He was a guinea pig for a rich guy who was randomly moral at times when Wash should have been more observant. And he was trapped. The one thing that could calm him, flying in the black, was cut off from him and he could do nothing about it.
He blamed none of the people in his life for his personal strife. He didn’t tell anyone about his nightmares. So when he woke up at 12:15am in a pool of sweat and feeling so nauseous he had to race to the bathroom to keep from soiling himself he gave immense thanks that Maxine was with Jo. But as he cleaned himself up he began to get angry. The anger rose and heightened as he thought about how caged he’d become.
He punched the wall a few times. It didn’t help. He ran around the ship in laps but he just got angrier doing that. The ship was trapped. He was trapped. His emotions were trapped about Zoe. His self expectations were trapped behind the wall of parenthood. Maxine was trapped. And that made him even angrier. He yelled.
And then he was nervous. Energy zipped from his fingers and the muscles in his jaw worked as he grinded his teeth. He didn’t know how he ended up in his flight suit so fast. He was running on rage filled adrenaline. He was also running on pure panic, claustrophobia induced mania.
He had to get out. He had to get out.
When the shuttle had reached full blast Wash found his hands aching from being clenched around the wheel as the lights of the City whipped past his periphery. When, after a while, the proximity alarm went off Wash kept going. When other alarms started going off indicating critical conditions and to prepare for impact, Wash kept going.
His eyes focused on the stars right beyond the atmosphere of the City. He wanted to be there. He wanted to see streaks of glowing gas zipping past him and get caught in an asteroid belt. He wanted it so badly that tears ran down his red, angry cheeks.
“LET ME GO!” he yelled, as all systems blared at him to stop from inside the shuttle.
For a second suspended in time before he registered the sound of the crash and all of the computer systems had been fried Wash thought he made it. He gasped before being shoved into the steering column and warped metal that soon made up the front part of Shuttle 2. He wasn’t conscious for the free-fall to the ground. And he wasn’t aware when his body slammed into the floor then into the ceiling of the craft, the pilot seat ripped from the floor and rattling in the shuttle like dried beans in a can.
When Wash did wake up it was not initially to pain but to the sensation wetness that coated his head and intense heat and the smell of burning fluids, chemicals, and ground. He breathed in and the chemical smell seemed to burn the back of his throat. He tried to lift his right hand but it was pinned beneath a huge hunk that used to be a console but now smoked and resembled more a charcoal brick.
He opened one eye, the other caked in wetness. His left hand fumbled numbly with whatever coated his face and head so he could open his other eye. He pulled back fingers of sticky, thick red as his other eye opened as much as swelling would allow. He racked his brain to think of any fluid in the shuttle that was this color. He couldn’t think of any. He couldn’t even remember how he crashed, at first. Then, in a moment, the rage was back, filling places where pain would have inhabited.
He slammed his head into the ground beneath him, feeling the burn on his back and shoulders from having the seat he was in pull and break off of his body. He inhaled and it felt like shards of glass had broken inside him and were cutting right under the skin.
“HEY!” he shouted, though not to garner helpful attention. “CITY! HEY!”
He felt like he was yelling nails with the strain on his ripped body. “WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST LET ME DIE! C-coulda just sent another one! HEY!”
He felt nauseous and he held his breath until it passed, not even caring that he couldn’t feel his left leg and that the hollow pain in his right arm could only indicate it was broken. Trying to move enticed a pitiful whimper.
“H-hey!” he continued, softer. “What-why do you-what do you need with a landlocked pilot, anyway! Why am I here!! Zoe doesn’t--she doesn’t need me. I can--can’t--Why don’t you just let me go! HEY! ARE YOU LISTENING YOU GORRAM PIECE OF GOSE SELFISH SON OF A BITCH!”
He’d picked up the last colloquial profanity from his time here.
He whimpered again as his body shivered in anger and shock. He coughed and he felt like he was being raked out from the inside with a knife. Maybe the City would let him die, but slowly. Maybe it was a punishment to leave in prolonged pain for being so obstinate and disobedient.
---
The City was not used to people trying to traverse the wall anymore. It had been a very long time since anybody had tried. They all seemed to accept that it was insurmountable, and leave it at that. Probably the introduction of Clark Kent - aka Superman - had solidified that idea. Perhaps it needed to bring a version of him back, so that the show could happen again, and then this wouldn’t be an issue.
It had expected Wash to let everything go once he realized that the ship, Serenity, could not take him where he wished to be. It felt a little bit bad about that, but if it let Wash go, it would have to let everybody go. If it let everybody go, then it would be defenseless. Alone. It had grown attached to many of the faces that walked its streets, and that was enough for the City to hang on to the pilot.
When he began to shout out at nothing, the City realized that it needed to do something. This citizen was upset. It didn't like when they were upset.
It took a human form in order to speak with Wash, because it had discovered that m any of them were unnerved by a disembodied voice. It did not, however, take the form of Thomas Townsend, whom it hated above everything. Instead, it took up the old standard Smith Wall. An ordinary looking man, somewhat handsome, ultimately forgettable.
“Why would you want to die?” Smith asked Wash, appearing somewhat off to the side.
---
Wash’s eyes were almost closed when he heard the voice. He gasped looking around wildly, blue eyes pale in the light. He breathed quicker, shallow.
“Are you it?” he called incredulously after a good amount of staring at the nondescript stranger with no discernable age except adult and no special descriptors other than man, dark hair, average height.
“Y-you’re the flying piece of gose [shit] that’s holding me here?”
He spat out laughter which he immediately regretted.
“I could take you if...I wasn’t...pinned under this giant piece of metal! What-what did you ask? Why did I want to DIE? Because you interrupted a perfectly salvageable death when you took me! I have a thing about finishing things I’m working on,” he said sardonically. “You’re a bastard. You take people and trap them and...you don’t even say I’m sorry! I mean…” he panted again, “that’s not fair! It’s not--I’m a PILOT! I’m jing-chang mei yong de [completely useless] here. My wife…”
He gasped at a jolt of pain.
---
“I am… it.” Smith nodded. “In this body, you may call me Smith, if it makes things easier for you.”
The City-in-Smith tilted it’s head, wondering at Wash’s anger and vehemence for it. The general anger that citizens had when they were rescued from their own timelines was something that it didn’t understand, couldn’t, really. Because it gave them so much. Even time as Thomas hadn’t cleared that much up.
“I took you from death and gave you life.” Smith said, the brows on the face furrowing into confusion. “Most people are happy about not dying. Why would I apologise? I give you everything you could want and more. You can fly still, you just cannot go outside of my boundaries. I can raise the metaphorical ceiling for you, but I can’t let you out.”
Then there was the other thing. His wife. The City did feel bad about that one. “I admittedly had not considered Jesse Custer’s relationship with Zoe Washburne before I brought you here. That man has been a thorn in my side since he got here, but there’s not much I can do. Letting him go would mean losing one of my most powerful citizens, and a the perfect balance that he creates.”
This was all information that the City had told at the meeting, so it didn’t think any of it was secret anymore. Aside from how much it didn’t like Jesse, anyway.
“Let me help you.” Smith moved forward and lifted the pinning object off of Wash with an ease no man should have had. It set the offending matter aside and stepped back again, giving the man room to do what he needed. “Can I do anything else?”
---
Even in the throws of the pain of having a ship on top of him Wash could tell there was something very off about the City’s empathy level. Then again, Wash figured it didn’t really have a lot of socialization skills, did it? It wasn’t like there was a society of sentient piles of earth that inhabit people floating around.
Dear God, Wash hoped there wasn’t a society of floating piles of sentient earth.
+This was like an episode of a campy, antiquated sci fi show where space men meet aliens who are so advanced they can’t comprehend simple relationships and courtesies.
Wash hated sci fi shows.
He rested his head as the City spoke to him through the body of the average man. He didn’t even see the man anymore just heard the arrogance that it spewed. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes when Zoe was brought up. His look shot daggers and oh for the power to literally shoot them.
He was too tired from his anger earlier and too much in pain to give his energy to commenting on the information but he did huff a laugh when Jesse was mentioned as an annoyance. Damn. Yet another reason to like the man.
“Why- “ he started before the City unpinned him. “Why do you want people with power? And...why me? I’m just a pilot. Zoe doesn’t need me anymore. I’m not powerful. Why-why do you keep bringing me back? Taking me away from the black? Because,” he licked his suddenly dry lips and shivered. “Because if I can’t have Zoe and I can’t have space travel then...you’ve killed me. Do you-do you even get that?”
As the heavy ship piece was removed Wash let out a shout as pain rippled through the formerly compressed left leg. It had been crushed for less than 15 minutes but there was still a deep stain of blood coming from the flight suit leg and it was obvious that the leg was fractured underneath.
Catching his breath was difficult. For a moment he was sure he was going to pass out as the world fizzled out for a bit. But his eyes regained their sight and he was left sweating and panting.
“Thanks,” he managed to get out, weakly, “that helped. I was just thinking I could definitely be in more pain.”
---
“Nobody who is brought here is just anything, Hoban Washburne.” The City-As-Smith shook its head. “Everybody that I choose is brought here because they are special. You are special. I keep bringing you back because I need you. You create a balance here, and you bring your wit, your flight ability, and other things.”
The City was a little annoyed to have to say these things again. But Wash had not been here for the meetings. He could be forgiven, it thought. As long as he kept these things with him and understood them.
“People are brought here because I need them in order to survive. Your abilities, who you are, help me in my fight. I am one of an ancient line. We have existed since before your world, before most worlds. We are not all the same, but we have the same premise. Islands in space, we move, we think, we must protect ourselves. While we are all of the same species, we do not… what is the term… get along. When we encounter one another, which we attempt to not do as much as possible, there is a battle. You, my citizens, never know when these happen, but you do provide me with the power I need. I do not take from you directly, mind. You just being here is enough.”
Smith crossed his arms over his chest as he had seen many residents do. He looked at Wash and tried to gauge what the man was thinking through the strange facial expressions that he had been attempting to teach to the Cityborn. Perhaps Wash should be studied further. He was very good at facial expression.
“But you see, I need a balance. This is why the so-called bad are brought in with the so-called good. But you, Wash. You provide me with so much. I like you. But before you, the you that I have had have been lacking. The you that you were before was too used up by your life. The you I have found now, the you that is you, is perfect.”
The City thought about this. That Hoban Washburne needed to be in the black. Needed to fly.
“I cannot let you… fly… like you want. I cannot let you outside of my barriers. It would be dangerous for the both of us. But what if I created for you a space that you could go to, a space that would feel like a ship, that would seem to be flying like a ship - since I am always moving, that you could go and find solace in?”
---
“City,” because though his mind was fuzzy he was comprehending enough that he wouldn’t call the City ‘Smith.’ He thought it was stupid to present oneself as something they weren’t, try to fit in. He thought maybe the City thought it was being considerate but he found it cowardly.
For a moment his vision darkened again but revived when he relaxed his body a little more. He wasn’t feeling as much pain as he was before and that gave him at least a little bit of a break.
“Listen, City. I can understand your motives. I am pretty special. Great personality. I’m also a prime example of a human male. I’m sexy, I’m manly, I’m fearless...and I’m manly!” he finished lamely. He was being sarcastic and at the same time self effacing in the sarcasm. Of course he didn’t think he was anything great. He was just a guy, a guy with a penchant for self injury when emotionally unstable, but a guy nonetheless.
“You guys, ancient floating things, you gotta start talking to each other. Maybe just...have you tried active listening? I’ve read good things about it in a magazine article. Worked for that boy and his dad. Rarely do I get drawn to tears while doing bathroom business but I’m glad for the roll of toilet paper supplied. I was a mess!
“And it’s always nice to feel needed. But,” he had to admit at this juncture that taking a breath had become easier with the large piece of metal lifted from his body, “but you could have asked nicely. I mean, I was dead so I probably woulda said yes seeing that dead was the only other option I had and I’m not fond of the whole...not living thing. What I gotta problem with was that you took a kid. Maxine’s only 5. 6? Uh--she’s just a kid. Are you ready to raise a kid? Cause it’s not just me an’ Jo that’s gonna be doing all the work with that. She’ll be raised by her environment, too. Her power worth possibly screwing her up?
“I can--I can tell,” he tried to sit up but the shock that had taken over his body just wasn’t allowing much movement. But being as sedate as he started to become he found he didn’t seem to mind, “that you care. Didn’t think you did, City. Maybe you should open with all that the next time someone comes that’s new. Maybe you should get a PR person? I read in the papers they do wonders. Thing is...what was I saying?”
He put up a very thoughtful expression for a long while. Maybe for a moment it would even seem like he wasn’t going to say anything else. But, in truth, he had been impressed with the City’s explanation of things. All the people here were like fuel that kept the City alive. And Wash had to wonder if fuel for Serenity had come with sentience would he be any less likely to use it to fly? Probably not. If it kept himself alive, probably not. It was still wrong. The City was still arrogant. But at least there was a reason for it all. At least he was part of something, no matter how much that ‘something’ sickened him. It hadn’t hurt at all that he was called ‘special.’ He could be childishly egotistical like that.
“Yeah- yeah set me up with that thing. Show me what’s on the outside and where we’re going,” he said with a barely lucid nod. “If that’s what it is--what it’s gotta be. If I’m a passenger lemme see outta window.” He laughed again. “Your face is so stupid right now, swirly...can you make me...in...I gotta go to the doctor…I think...”
He passed out.
---
“You do not understand what it is like to be one of us.” Smith shrugged, but it was an action that was more pronounced than it should have been. The City could no better explain why they fought than an ant could explain why it bites people who aren’t doing anything to it.
“Maxine is not the first child I have brought in. There are plenty of people here to care from them, and they always find their way. She has you, Joanna Harvelle, and Ted Earley to take care of her. I am sure that if she needed, she could go to Dinah Lance as well. The girl will never be without a guardian.”
The City knew the kid missed her family, but everybody missed their family. She was no different in the way the being saw her, just smaller than the other ones.
It watched Wash and listened to him as he spoke, and then waited for a moment after he passed out, watching, and expecting him to say more. After all, Hoban Washburne very rarely stayed quiet for long. Then it realized what he had said.
I gotta go to the doctor.
“Oh.” The City stepped forward and picked up the unconscious body as carefully as it could manage. It would take Hoban Washburne to the City Hospital. Somebody there would be able to take care of him. It would make sure that he recovered well, and when he did, there would be a present waiting for him.