GateHobbit

'Hands' for 31nights

2006-08-22T08:59:39Z

Fandom: Firefly- Zoe/Wash
Title: Hands (original, huh?)
Prompt: 1. Hands
Completed: 1/31
Rating: PG-13
By: gatehobbit
Notes: Set shortly after Wash and Zoe get married.

As they looked at stars and played with dinosaurs one evening, Wash told Zoe what his favorite part of her was.

"Right between your back and your legs," he said, motioning to her backside as she stood beside him on the bridge.

Zoe raised an amused eyebrow at his odd description. "What, my ass?"

Wash looked at her reproachfully. "No... Ass is such a negative word. I mean, even Jayne has an ass."

"You been lookin', husband?" Zoe quipped.

"Jealous of the competition?" Wash retorted with his trademark grin shining in the colored lights of the console. Though she figured the thought of Jayne's ass was punishment enough, Zoe smacked him playfully on the head. He took the opportunity to grab her around the hips and pull her into his lap. "Seriously," he continued, "Butt, rear-end, pi gu, backside... nothing really does it justice." She was about to reward him with a kiss for his sweet, though strange, compliment, when Mal entered looking disgusted.

"What did I say about not distracting the pilot..."

"But I'm not even flying!"

"By which I mean no kissin' or ruttin' or any of the like on my bridge?"

* * *

Zoe had been thinking about that, in addition to more stressful concerns like their recent lack of jobs, for well over a week. She was beginning to be frustrated that she couldn't think of what part of Wash she liked best. She loved his playful smile, his unruly reddish-blonde hair, his smooth shoulders in that sleeveless flight suit of his. It was a silly thing to be dwellin' on, but she couldn't get it out of her mind that she couldn't think of anything when he had thought so much about her.

She sighed as she reassembled the newly-cleaned parts of her beloved shotgun. She could think of her favorite part of that- the sleek modified trigger that responded to the slightest pressure. Resting her elbows on the common-room table, she stared peevishly into the coffee mug that was nursing her insomnia. She never could sleep when jobs were slow and the captain was cranky.

"I know jobs've been scarce lately," Wash remarked as he entered and looked over her shoulder, "But interrogating a coffee cup?" He gave her shoulders a squeeze as he stood over her and frowned. "Ah, that's why... What with the tenseness and all... come 'ere." He kept his hands on her shoulders as she stood, and steered her out of the mess.

"Shirt off," he ordered when they reached their bunk.

"I'm really not in the mood for that right now, Wash."

"If I'd been thinkin' that, I would've said pants," he replied, unperturbed. "Shirt, please."

Trying to hide her curiosity behind a mask of resignation, she shed her vest and shirt and stretched out on the bed as Wash instructed. She heard him crack his knuckles before he began to work his hands over her shoulders. Flying had made his hands strong and sure, and at first it hurt more than Zoe had imagined Wash was capable of. He used his thumbs and knuckles on knots she had built up over her lifetime, never having had a back rub before. She felt the muscles loosen as he slowly worked down her back, then back up. After nearly twenty minutes, Wash lightly ran his hands over her arms, shoulders, and back, then slid down next to her with an arm still draped over her shoulder.

"The hands," she told him, "Definitely the hands."

gatehobbit @ 2006-03-01T15:52:00

2006-03-01T21:59:04Z

http://www.rebel-heart.net/brushes/
-Resource for Photoshop: Brushes, textures, fonts, etc.

gatehobbit @ 2006-02-25T00:13:00

2006-02-25T06:13:58Z

gatehobbit @ 2006-01-18T17:45:00

2006-01-18T23:50:30Z




Photobucket.com

</table>

Here In Spirit (Chapter 2)

2005-12-23T10:14:43Z

Title: Here In Spirt(Part 2)
Author: GateHobbit
Rating: PG
Characters: Wash, River, Zoe (with cameos by everyone else)
Pairing: Wash/Zoe
Summary: He's still here "in spirit"
Notes: MAJOR BDM spoilers. River has some explaining to do, and it could be painful.
Disclaimer: Like action figures. Not the real thing, but fun to play with.
Cross-posted to ff_fanfic

Kaylee’s eyes traveled back and forth between Simon and River. He seemed to be more worried about her than usual, and she was avoiding his glances. Finally, Simon relaxed, and Kaylee picked up her spoon to dig into her protein mush. Suddenly, River gasped and dropped her spoon into her bowl, splattering her breakfast onto Simon and Jayne who sat on either side of her.

“Gorramit, girl!” Jayne fumed, “Why’d ya pick meal time to start bein’ crazy again?”

River looked up at him and then laughed mischievously. “Sorry, Jayne. I hope I didn’t smudge your make-up none.”

Mal rose halfway, ready to prevent his hired gun from retaliating. He didn’t have to move farther, though, because Jayne was sitting as if stunned. The rest of the crew looked at River for a moment, shocked as well. Kaylee’s hand flew to her mouth as she started to giggle. Jayne recovered himself and looked indignant, which made Inara smirk as well.

“Shut it!” Jayne snapped. “Feng le girl’s spending too much time in the cockpit; startin’ to sound like Wash.”

Zoë’s suddenly became very interested in her bland protein mush, and Mal shot Jayne a glare that scared even the mercenary. He’d never admit it of course, but he figured it was best if he made himself scarce for a while.

“I’ll be in my bunk.” He stalked out of the galley. Zoë wasn’t far behind, her eyes still downcast.

Mal looked over at River, who was looking sheepishly back. “I reckon he’s right, Li’l Albatross. What’s gotten into you?”

River fought the urge to answer ‘Wash.’ It was his comment, after all. She’d gasped when she realized she could hear his thoughts again, and hadn’t recovered fast enough to prevent his smart-aleck joke from escaping her lips. Instead, she tried to look repentant. “Sorry, captain. Won’t happen again.”

“Well, there’s nothin’ wrong with you tellin’ jokes,” he conceded, “Just sounded an awful lot like Wash was sittin’ here again. I know Zoë’s still havin’ a hard time with it, so maybe just be more careful when she’s listenin’.”

River nodded absently, standing with her bowl. “Needs to converse with Zoë, coincidentally. Obligated to apologize.” She turned to rinse her dishes, missing the concerned look passed between Simon and Mal.

“River, that might not be the best idea,” Simon suggested, “Maybe you should just give her some time.”

The girl turned; dark hair and airy skirt whirling together. “Conversely, it is rather urgent.” She glided out the door before they could object.

------

River stood before the door to Zoë’s bunk, wringing her hands. She had no idea how to tell Zoë what she knew, or if she would believe it if she did.

“I don’t know what to say, either,” Wash told her, “But after seeing her so upset… we have to try.”

River tilted her head. Wash was speaking in the third person, in her head, and it made sense. She was used to having other thoughts invade upon her fractured mind, but was having a hard time adjusting to the thoughts being welcome and friendly. “Yes,” she finally replied, “Though it is your responsibility to help her understand. I do not know how to relate to her.”

“Frankly, neither do I sometimes.” Wash laughed his cheerfully ironic laugh, and it comforted River.

She reached out and knocked softly on the hatch. She heard a shuffling noise, and the door opened. Zoë’s eyes were sad, but she hadn’t been crying. River could feel Wash’s heart break as he saw his wife through River’s eyes.

“I came to apologize,” River told the woman, who was even more intimidating when she was upset. “And to talk, to explain, if you’ll let me.” She held her breath until Zoë answered.

“No need for apologies,” she told River, putting on a small but genuine smile. “Shouldn’t have to watch what you say ‘round me. It’s just… Jayne was right for once.” Her smile grew, full of irony. “I just miss hearing Wash say those kinds of things.” She turned to climb back down the ladder into her bunk, beckoning for River to follow.

As she stepped gracefully down, River decided to do as Zoë would and give the upfront truth. No go se. “I hear him say those things, in my mind.”

Zoë looked warily at her as she sat on her bed. “I hope you’re here for some other reason than to make me jealous,” she stated frankly.

“No, of course not,” River assured her, “Please do not be angry about what I have to say.”

Zoë raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.

“A few days ago, I dreamt that I was Wash. Yesterday, I could hear his thoughts in my head. I thought it was memories, old thoughts that haunted the ship, haunted the minds of the crew. But they were not memories; not about events before but events after. I cannot read what is not there, and dead souls do not think new thoughts. Somehow, his consciousness is in my mind, alive. Maybe because…”

“Enough!” Zoë suddenly spat, bolting up. “Don’t try to cheer me up with false hopes. Do you know how much I wish he was still here with me?!”

River looked at her with pleading eyes. “Zoë, I…”

“I lost him once. Don’t make me go through that again. Get out!”

River had never seen Zoë look so angry as she pointed towards the open door, hand shaking. Tears sprung to her eyes as she tried to think of a way to get her to understand, and she was sure at least half of them were Wash’s. “Zoë, please, listen!”

“Get… out!”

River stood and started for the ladder.

“No,” Wash begged, “Please, River, let me try.”

The girl stopped in her tracks, wanting to give Wash the chance but not wanting to incite Zoë to further wrath. She fought with her choices for a moment before bowing her head in acquiescence. “Alright, Wash,” she whispered. Her back was facing Zoë, and she decided not to turn. It would be harder for Zoë to believe it was Wash talking to her if she was looking at River’s face. She simply closed her eyes and gave control over to Wash, hoping he would be able to speak through her. She didn’t know if she had the strength to speak for him.

“Zoë, please.”

Zoë felt the corners of her eyes burning as she forced herself not to cry. She was strong; Wash’s warrior woman wouldn’t allow herself to cry in front of the young girl who had been through so much herself. But that quiet, tender whisper was almost more than she could take. Her voice was unsteady as she replied. “River, go. Now.”

“It’s not River, lambie-toes, it’s me. Wash.”

That was too much. Zoë grabbed River roughly by the shoulders and spun her around, ready to berate her for daring to impersonate Wash. The fact that she was a reader didn’t give her the right to mess with people’s minds. But the expression she saw stopped her cold. The girls eyes were squeezed shut, but large tears were slowly dripping down her face anyway. Her body language was meek, the expression on her face sad to the point of hopelessness. She spoke again, without opening her eyes.

“I don’t know how to explain it. Don’t know how to make you believe. Ai ya! I don’t even know if I believe it! Could just be that I am dead, and my hell consists of hearing your voice, and seeing you in pain, and not being able to do a damned thing about it!”

Zoë’s breath caught, her chest suddenly tight. It was River’s face, and her voice. But she only wore that broken expression when she was having one of her worse fits, which she hadn’t since Miranda. And, she seemed completely lucid now, despite what seemed like a crazy claim of being someone else. The words, too, weren’t River’s words. They were Wash’s.

“Wash?” She asked tentatively, feeling the hot tears start to boil down her cheeks.

“Yeah, baby. It’s me.”

“Lao tian ye!” She exclaimed, somehow not feeling awkward about throwing her arms around River’s shoulders and imagining they were Wash’s. When your dead husband was talking to you from the shared mind of a crazy psychic girl, it was hard to find anything strange.

“Oh, Zoë.” After a few moments, Wash loosened his embrace and stepped back.

Zoë was almost surprised to find that it was still River standing there. Her brown eyes were still shut, but directed right at her face. She could imagine a pair of bright blue eyes behind those eyelids, and wished to heaven that he could be here with her in body as well as spirit.

“Oh, Zoë. It feels so good to say your name and see you standing there to match. You know, back… on Mr. Universe’s planet…”

Zoë smiled as she heard him stuttering like her old, nervous Wash.

“That… spear came through the window… all I could feel was the pain of thinking I was never going to see you again. Never going to hear your voice, fight with you, make up, get soup for doing right by you. Never going to kiss you again or tell you I love you.”

“Love you too, husband.” The tears came again as that image flashed back to her, reminding her that she still couldn’t kiss him. She couldn’t hold him in her arms after a botched job and be completely happy just to be alive with him. What if she never could again? What if he faded from River’s mind? “What do we do now?”

“Enjoy what we’ve got,” he reassured her. “River says she’ll try to keep me in here as long as she can. Other than that, we’ll see what comes.” Wash, in River’s form, reached to hug Zoë again.

She felt like she was holding on for dear life, not knowing of she was ever going to get this chance again. Then she heard a small gasp, and River backed away. Her eyes were open again, and she looked sympathetically at Zoë.

“I couldn’t hold on any longer,” she explained sorrowfully. “He mentioned yesterday that he was… unconscious for lack of a better word, until recently. He still gets tired, and then he slips from my mind like dew from blades of grass. Hard to fit two butterflies in one cocoon; we must find a way for him to spread his wings again.”

Zoë nodded, her brain clouded with too many feelings to form words. River squeezed the woman’s hand before turning to climb back up the ladder.

“River?” Zoë finally called. “Thank you.”

Steve the Pirate = YARR!

2005-12-23T10:02:27Z

Click for some wicked-awesome Steve the Pirate/Alan Tudykness

(Steve the Pirate makes my heart go YARR!)

http://w33.photobucket.com/widgets/dynamicflash.php?featuretype=bucketstamp&featurename=StevethePirate&pa=/d61/RockinHobbit/Random%20Icons/Alan%20Tudyk/

gatehobbit @ 2005-12-22T03:41:00

2005-12-22T09:41:12Z

Hello, I come bearing gifts!

Title: Here In Spirt(Part 1)
Author: GateHobbit
Rating: PG
Characters: Wash and River, so far
Pairing: None
Summary: He's still here "in spirit"
Notes: MAJOR BDM spoilers. This part is short and sweet, but it will get more interesting in following chapters. I can't say anything else without giving much away.
Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.
Cross-posted to washfic

“Watch… watch how.” River tossed in her sleep, her flailing arms catching Simon across the face. He woke with a start, not expecting to see her in his bunk.

“River, honey, wake up.” He grabbed her arms to still her. “River, it’s just a bad dream.” He looked at her worriedly as she slowly came to. She hadn’t had a nightmare since the Miranda incident, nearly a month ago now.

“Simon?”

He smoothed her hair, brushing away the haunted look in her deep, brown eyes as well.

“Sorry, Simon. She didn’t want to disturb you, but she had strange dreams last night and didn’t want to face them alone again.”

Simon sighed heavily- she was speaking in the third person again. “It’s okay, mei-mei. I’m here; you’re safe. It’s okay.” She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head.

“Invading her thoughts again. Not memories this time, though. Not fearful, not malicious. Hurt, sad, in pain.” She opened her eyes again, looking suddenly lucid. “Wash. He’s in there.”

“Wash is gone, River honey.”

She shook her head fiercely at his statement. “No! His soul took flight, as the phoenix from the ashes. Fled the fire and found refuge in a friendly land. I can hear him,” she insisted.

Simon sighed again and sat up, ready to reach for the smoothers he kept prepared for these kinds of situations. He had hoped he wouldn’t need to use them again.

“No needles, Simon. Please, no. I’ll go back to my bunk and close the door against the voices.” She stood, looking beseechingly at him. Before he could react, she slipped out the door like a shadow shifting in the night.

------

She quietly headed for the cockpit. Or rather, Wash did. It was his decision to seek the familiarity and comfort of the pilot’s seat, despite what had happened to him there. River listened to his thoughts in her head as if he was speaking aloud to her. He was surprised at the silence of her bare feet across the metal grating. He had never been very graceful, except when he was at the controls of a ship. It was odd for him to be in this body, and odd to be sharing it. Yet, it didn’t feel odd to sit in his chair again, looking out the view screens at the starry black.

“Why are you here? When one’s body ceases to live, the soul customarily accompanies it.” She thought her words, not needing to speak them and having no physical form to direct them to.

“Not exactly. Don’t believe in heaven or hell or any of that, do you?”

“There is no tangible evidence to support such theories.”

“I suppose I don’t count, huh?”

“You are not tangible. Could be a figment of the girl’s imagination. Could be wishful thinking, of her or the others. We miss you.”

“I doubt that’s entirely true of sentimental Jayne.”

“He misses you. Misses harassing you.”

“Lovely. Can’t say I miss being harassed, myself.”

“It is his preferred method of expression. He harasses Kaylee too. Taunts Simon, disobeys Captain, knows better than to mess with Inara and Zoë.”

“Smart man,” he replied, laughing ruefully. “Oh, Zoë. If I could just talk to her one last time. How is my warrior woman?”

“She mourns your passing. Tries to be brave, tries not to show it. The grief was so strong at first; I couldn’t block it out and it hurt so bad. It is quieter now, but still painful.”

“I wish I could see her. I hate that she’s hurting and it’s my fault.”

“Not your fault. You couldn’t have known. Besides, if it hadn’t happened, Captain wouldn’t have known to pull Zoë away from the next one. She is alive because of you.”

“She’s alive, and I can’t hold her or tell her I love her. I don’t even know why I’m here, in your head.”

“I cannot figure it out, either. I also wonder why you only recently manifested.”

“What? Oh. I don’t know. I don’t remember a lot. I started thinking, seeing things; what must have been a few days ago. But I knew I was dead and I didn’t know what to make of it. When I kept hearing people call me ‘River,’ I sorta figured it out.”

“Went I dreamt I was you last night, I thought it was merely a dream. But these are new thoughts, new memories, and new experiences. I believe your consciousness, what Book would call a soul, was able to enter my mind as thoughts do. I wonder if all souls go searching for a new body when theirs meets an untimely demise.”

“Wouldn’t you… catch… more of them?”

“Since Miranda, I rarely see what I do not try to see. There are some thoughts that are too loud to block, however. Your trauma and proximity, in addition to your familiarity, would have made your consciousness very loud, but since you were in a state of unconsciousness, I could not hear your presence immediately.”

“So my brain sorta screamed as my body died? Seems like an appropriate reaction.”

There was silence in River’s mind for a few moments, like a lull in an audible conversation. She finally spoke again.

“What do I do now? Simon did not believe me when I told him you are sharing my mind. Even if there was a body for you, I do not know if your mind could travel in the opposite direction. I do not know if I can maintain your consciousness indefinitely, but I will try.”

“Thank you, River.” Wash paused. “Zoë… do you think she would believe you? I want to talk to her so badly.”

“I could try,” River offered, “But I cannot guarantee she would believe me. I do not know how to prove it is you. There is nothing I could tell her on your behalf that I couldn’t know otherwise, being a reader.”

There was no response for several moments, and River became worried. She believed now that Wash was somehow sharing her mind, and she was afraid of losing what was left of his presence. She picked up one of his plastic dinosaurs from the helm and played with it absently. Suddenly, a thought broke into her mind.

“I’m… tired. Rest, be back later.”

River smiled to herself, and Wash as well though he couldn’t see her face.

“Alright. Try not to hit Simon while you are flying in my sleep again, please, and I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay.”

Icons!

2005-12-09T23:19:46Z

This is a post with some GateHobbit icon info- disappointed? I'll give you a link to my site where I keep my icons! (The Icon Shop)

Anyhow, my userpics are my own handmade icons. Steal them, and I WILL hunt you down. You may take any of the icons on my linked site, according to the rules posted there. Have requests? I will probably do Stargate SG-1 and Firefly, and maybe A Knight's Tale or other fandoms. See site for details. TTFN.

Here's how it works...

2005-12-05T16:31:13Z

I have this for one reason. Keeping up with my sci-fi communities. I'm a nerd, and if you think you can take my lunch money because of it, you should know I always carry a buck knife which I use to sharpen my drawing pencils. And cut losers. I also own a five-foot whip, a bow, and a bad attitude.

But I digress. Anyhow, I may post crap from time to time- new icons and artwork I have made, fanfic if I feel so inclined, whatever. If you're looking for blog-type entries, try my MySpace Page. I'm also on Facebook and Xanga, and I lurk at the Gateworld Forums quite a bit. My usernames always have something to do with Hobbits, but I'll challenge you to figure out the rest.