Author:
Fandom: Firefly/Star Trek: Voyager
Pairing: Chakotay and Zoe
Rating: PG
Setting: Pre-series
Words: 1083
Request: rebellion, religion, guns - in the dark early-morning hours.
Summary: Zoe tastes dirt in her mouth: gritty and fine between her teeth, under her fingernails, and stuck in her hair.
Zoe tastes dirt in her mouth: gritty and fine between her teeth, under her fingernails, and stuck in her hair. The war's turned Serenity Valley from a lush meadow to a dirty wasteland. And it's Zoe's turn to watch over their stronghold, alone in the night.
Most soldiers hate night watch, but Zoe's learned to appreciate it. She appreciates being able to leave camp before mealtime's over, when a preacher starts speak. Usually Mal tells the clergy to zhù zuî. But Mal must've dozed off between protein rations and the box of stale biscuits someone was passing around.
She bites into the hard biscuit. It's stale and as tough as the mutton stew her grandmother used to cook in the winters. Zoe relishes in it. She's been in this war long enough to know a luxury when she has it.
Zoe hears footfalls behind her, and she drops the biscuit in her lap to aim her gun.
"Don't shoot," says the approaching man. It's Chakotay. He's one of their recent recruits. So far, he's been dependable and levelheaded, which are two things Zoe values in a fellow soldier. She doesn't need to get herself accidentally shot by some trigger-scared greenhorn.
"You should've given the signal." Zoe lowers her weapon and picks her biscuit back up. Thankfully, it didn't fall to the ground; not that her pants are much cleaner. "What do you want?"
"Some fresh air."
Zoe snorts. "The preacher getting to you too?" They can go all night and into the early morning.
Chakotay crouches next to her. "You would think they'd be more willing to hear counter arguments and respect that some of us have our own religions." Everyone knows Chakotay follows something else from the tattoo splayed across his forehead. Tracey and the others are scared of him, but Mal keeps reminding them that it's just another cult promising them something they don't have. Zoe wonders how much of what Mal promises is fool's gold.
"Even so-called enlightened places like the Core like you to practice a certain religion, and follow certain rules."
"Well, it's a good thing that I don't come from the Core." Chakotay's face softens into a smile.
The cooking fires have died down and Zoe hears the rustle of soldiers climbing into their tents. "Someday, when we get out of this, I'd like to visit your world."
Chakotay looks sad for a moment; as if going home isn't an option. And maybe it isn't. There's been dozens of colonies destroyed or taken over by the Alliance, and Browncoat faces like theirs wallpaper the towns on wanted posters. "I figured you'd have your own home to go back to after this is over."
"Nope." Zoe tilts her head up to the stars, looking for ones moving like ships. Mal keeps saying they were supposed to receive a supply run two days ago. "My parents were both in the military, and I traveled with them. Grew up learning to sharpening a knife as I learned my ABCs." Usually, Zoe doesn't tell this much to someone she considers a stranger, but there's something in Chakotay's eyes.
"My father was an archeologist, so I spent a lot of my childhood moving as well."
"Must've settled somewhere." Zoe shifts. The rock she's sitting on isn't as comfortable as it was hours ago.
"I did. Before the colony was taken, it was wonderful."
"And you fought back."
Chakotay brings his finger to lips, signaling her to be silent. Whatever he heard, Zoe missed, and here she was, supposed to be on watch. Chakotay brings his weapon up and aims for a tree stump several yards away. Zoe does hear the grunt and the crash of a body falling to the ground. There was no Browncoat signal; even still, she can't help but want to know if it was the supply ship's pilot.
A moving target is just that a target.
They wait.
Then Chakotay leaves their post and goes passed the secured area to check the body. Zoe grips her weapon tightly, prepared to give him cover if she needs to. They should've alerted Mal. But they need to know if it'd been an actual perimeter breech. It might've even been one of those deer that used to populate the fields. Zoe hasn't had fresh meat in a month.
Zoe's watching him, heart pounding in her ears. She should be used to this. But she has a genuine affection for Chakotay, unlike most of her fellow soldiers. Sure, she respects them and guards their back, but that doesn't mean she likes them.
Chakotay's done investigating and moving back toward her.
It's a little passed 0330 and Zoe's already feeling pain behind her eyes. The field doctor gave her some pain killers. Not that she can take them on watch. Not that she can take them in a middle of war zone when she doesn't want her brain fuzzy.
"Alliance?" Zoe asks as Chakotay makes his way to the rocks near her.
"Alliance. But he was alone."
The silence between them is colder than the harsh winds that blow through the valley. No one likes killing. What they realize is the reality of who shoots first, and Zoe will shoot first to save herself and the others guarding her back. She'll see this rebellion to the end.
As twilight approaches, Zoe long ago expected Chakotay to leave her for the tents. Instead, he stayed by her side. Stayed there when all she could hear was crickets and her own breath. There used to be birds; Zoe doesn't know if it's the fighting or the cold that drove them away.
"When I was a child," Chakotay says, breaking their silence, "I used to wake every morning with the dawn. Jump out of my bed and run to the window to watch the sun peak over the horizon. Then sneak back to room."
Zoe smiles. "I never was one for the morning. Probably why Mal put me here."
"Oh, I could never get up in the morning either. For the sunrise, yes. But never for school or work."
Zoe places her hand on Chakotay's arm. "Thank you for watching the sunrise with me." As she looks out over Serenity Valley, it's almost like she's not at war, for a second. Like she's greeting the sun with a friend instead of being ready to shoot what moves in the light. The sky crackles with thunder and it starts to rain, washing the dirt from Zoe's hands.