I agree. And I'm not really a Firefly fan.

If anyone is already spoiled for the Serenity movie or doesn't care either way I've posted some fanfic set after the film over in the firefly spoiler section (entry 1049ish). Would love some feedback. Thanx.

This is just silly... a little H:LOTS fic based on the Lloyd Dobler conversation in movies, last week. For JZ
For Jacqueline, till I can get my detective ducks in a row... “Dead Women Can’t Say Anything.”

Unattended death. Mostly about smell or paperwork than anything else, but Munch’s head was in a delicate state so he was grateful for the respite, if not the by-now customary partner hunt. He was still surprised when the newly-anointed Sergeant Kay came striding out and said she would come with him.

“Think of me as your lucky charm, huh?”

”Do I get to pick which part of you I get to rub for luck?”

“Enough of that, hmm?” Her expression turned to concern as she looked him over. “Jesus, John, you look like shit.”

He did what every pretentious dropout did in such situations and quoted William Blake. “The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom, Kay.”

“If that means what I think it does, you must be the smartest man in Balmer.”

“Thank you, I think.”

The place was a neat little condo on the Inner Harbor, hardly the usual shooting gallery. The vic, a woman slightly younger than Kay, was rigored on her couch.

“Ok, Rogers, what’ve we got?” Kay said. Kay liked Sally Rogers, at least to get stuck in the women’s with. She had proven herself competent and not sloppy, both traits that went right to Howard’s core as a detective.

“Neighbor went over the borrow something, found her like this, knew not to touch anything from “Murder She Wrote,”

“God bless television,” Kay said.

“You’d think so,” Munch said, “But that last show didn’t do anything for her, did it?”

“There’s something...weird about this scene.” Kay said. “I can’t put my finger on it, but...”

“My place isn’t this clean and I’m alive.” Munch finished.

“Exactly,” Howard said.

“ Although I doubt we share a bohemian sensibility, seeing as how she was watching...” Munch crossed to the coffee table and found a DVD box which he held in his gloved hand.””Say Anything”. Somehow I doubt it does.”

An uncharacteristic squeal emanated from Officer Rogers. “Oh. My God. I love that movie. I’ve seen it twelve times.” You’re shivering. Are you cold?”

“No. I’m just happy.” John couldn’t believe that such an un-Howard line would cross the sergeant’s lips and, as was often the case with Kay, was torn between being frightened and aroused. He always sort of pictured her relaxing with Scorsese’s “Mean Streets” and a visit to the firing range. This was a whole new dimension.

“My...uh, niece, has one. She watched it a bunch of times when I was on the island last.”

”I thought your sister wasn’t the breeding type,” Munch pointed out, eyebrow almost raised off his face, “and with the cancer...”

“She’s my friend’s kid, okay? Not my blood niece. She really loves that Lloyd guy. Rates her little school friends to see if any of the boys are Doblers. It was always what she wanted to do. Next time, I get to pick, so we’re going to the gun range.”

John thought” That clunking sound is my equilibrium being restored.” But said “Where is this opus?”

“I’ll bet I know...” Kay said. “Wow, she was only thirty minutes in,” One of the few things Kay wasn’t neat about was leaving her videos in the player. She supposed it’s because she got interrupted so often watching one. Drove Ed Danvers crazy though; his movies were seperated by genre and used to be alphabetized till she let him have her one day up against the rack. After that, he loved the rack more than ever, but never regained much joy in alphabetizing, but the first time he scolded her for mis-shelving “Blazing Saddles” she knew they wouldn’t last.

“So she found something else to do, Kay. It’s not a smoking gun.”

“But no woman would turn Lloyd off...it’s not gonna happen. Not at least until he stands out in the rain to see her and...”

Munch couldn’t believe it when the women synchronized sighing. He hated this Dobler bastard so much, he felt sure his (continued...)

( continues...) interrogations would be infused with a new empathy, and... “Aren’t you a little old for this particular brainwashing, Detective Howard? Uh, Sargeant, ma’am.’

“Thanks so much, Munchkin. I’ll remember that when I bring your next date her booster chair, you know?”

Damn.
Jesus, John, that was fucking brilliant. Everyone can tell you get people’s secrets for a living, that you’ve been murder po-lice since her bunky Lloyd over there noticed hair growing out of weird places. Such a putz. “Not old...no, just, sophisticated. Discerning.”

“Nice save.” Howard replied. “ But it’s still a murder...I’d bet anything.”

A lightbulb went off in Munch’s brain.”Say Anything”, beautiful title. “Anything?”

“Anything,” But her mouth was set in its grim working line. He knew not to finish the pitch. “Uh, I have something for you, Munch. I thought you’d be wondering what happened to it.”And she pulled out a pen and handed it to him. “Not that I don’t love your chartreuse notes, but Giardello is gonna have an aneurysm and I don’t have time this week to recopy them.”

”You did that? Nobody has ever cared enough to save me from myself before. Except Gwennie and we all know how that turned out.”

“Uh, I’m not proposing...just saving myself some grief. Your paperwork stinks, Detective. You should be embarrassed.” TBC...

Finally got caught up and saw this. Hah!

He hated this Dobler bastard so much

Bwah!

Hee. I love the idea of Kay secretly loving Lloyd. I could totally imagine her tough flinty self melting over exactly some small gesture like warning her away from the broken glass in a parking lot and kicking it out of her path.

Yeah...me too. And I read that article Vonnie linked to in movies about a whole generation of women "who would sell their souls to have a milkshake with that motherfucker," and took off from there. And you know that would make John jealous, not just about Kay, but any man that got that much female attention.

Oh no, it's not done!

Erika, you're not going to leave us hanging like that, are you?

No...I've just been busy and haven't figured out what happens yet. Thanks for asking.

I've got a slightly-ugly (in the sense of rough, not that the plot includes...oh, nevermind) 9-page GilesFic that I've been working on for at least a year that desperately needs someone else to look at it. It's complete, in the sense of ending. I'd like to get it to the point where I can think of it as done, and I can't figure out if it's too short or unfocused or unclear or if I've just been looking at it too often for too long.

the writing seems to finally be coming back. I got the idea last night and typed it out this morning. Now if I can just write at my new home, without Hubby saying "Whatcha doin'?" every few minutes and derailing me.

Not-So-Deaf Ears

Spike slowly opened his eyes onto the darkened living room. Had he dreamed the low, rumbling growl, or was there something in the apartment? Behind him on the couch, Xander slept on.

He didn't smell anything other than him, the whelp, sex, and the ghost of the dozen take-out burritos from El Taco Loco that had served as dinner. Slowly he sat up, scanning the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. He shifted to gameface to trigger his full senses.

A faint, chuckling gurgle, somewhere close. He turned his head for triangulation, then slumped. Xander burped lightly in his sleep, triggering another of those mysterious gurgles.

Spike studied his lover. It was easy to forget how noisy human bodies were. Bubblings and gurgles and pops and creaks and clicks. Being surrounded by cacaphonous humans could drive a vampire crazy. That one particular human, though . . .

He leaned down over Xander, listening to the boy's body.

The tacos were sitting as well as could be expected, what with the extra hot sauce. Spike twitched at the sounds of digestion, trying not to remember that his body had done those sorts of things too, once upon a time. Being a proper Victorian, bodily functions were not something he had generally acknowledged. It had almost been a relief to fastidious William not to have to deal with that sort of thing any more.

Xander's lungs whooshed reassuringly, and his heart thump-thumped steadily. Spike had spent a few nights early on with his ear against Xander's chest, listening to the rhythm and the echos and the tides of blood through the arteries. He'd heard a brief syncopation one night and demanded Xander see his doctor, only to be told that an occasional stutter in the rhythm was to be expected in a system that never got a chance to rest.

Xander shifted, then grunted at the clunk of his left hipbones shifting. Spike glared at the joint. The life of a Scooby was hard on the body, and Xander was slowly losing the resilience of adolescence. On bad days, Spike could hear clicks from Xander's knees and elbows, and there was a hitch in the right shoulder that worried him. When Xander had loudly popped his neck back into alignment once, Spike had been ready to call an ambulance.

The less said about the wet sounds of infected sinuses the better.

Spike stroked Xander's forehead as gently as he could, careful not to wake him. So damned fragile. So damned mortal and human. Vampire bodies were silent unless something was wrong. He and Dru would lay in perfect stillness, listening to the shift of the world with themselves at the quiet center. He thought occasionally about rescuing Xander from noisy mortality, but the idea of a Xander who was silent in any way seemed go against the laws of the universe.

He settled back down, but he knew better than to think he'd get any sleep. He closed his eyes and drifted, cataloging all the sounds from the body next to him, trying not to listen for the tick of a clock slowing down.