kaydeefalls: river in spacesuit, grinning: "you can't take the sky from me" (since i found serenity)
[personal profile] kaydeefalls
Continued from here.


v. the unquiet dead

It's a bit chilly, and looks like it might storm; but it's a beach, with a proper boardwalk and everything, and the slate-gray waves crash in an ever-changing rhythm against the sand. Rose thinks it's glorious, in an almost-home-but-not-quite sort of way. Familiar enough to feel completely at ease, but different enough to be a wonder.

"Eastern Seaboard, United States of America, 2004," the Doctor announces with a wide grin. "Sometime in April, I believe."

Jack follows them out of the TARDIS, looking distinctly skeptical. "New Jersey," he says flatly. "We can go anywhere in time or space, and you brought us to New Jersey."

"Atlantic City, New Jersey, to be specific."

Jack's face brightens at once. "Well, that's another matter entirely."

"Wrong decade."

The new voice makes Rose jump – which is rather embarrassing, really, when all she sees is an ordinary human girl, about her own age or maybe a little younger, dark hair streaming in the wind off the ocean.

"What's that?" the Doctor asks sharply.

"Wrong decade," the girl repeats with a shrug. "Wrong mental image. Turn of the century, ladies in white bathing dresses, vaudeville, gambling and grime and girls." She cocks her head, looking Jack over with an odd intensity. "Or boys."

After a moment, Jack laughs, tossing his head back. "Oh, I like this one!" he says delightedly. "Who're you, then, darling?"

The girl grins, like a switch suddenly turned on. "Who'd you like me to be, handsome?" she teases, in a fair imitation of Jack's own manner. It's a little eerie, actually.

"Leave her be, Jack," Rose says with a laugh. "Early twenty-first century America's a bit prudish. She's probably not even legal."

Jack sticks his tongue out at her.

"Now then, his name is Jack, and he's trouble," she tells the girl. "That's the Doctor over there, and I'm Rose."

She sticks out her hand. The girl examines it, much as the Doctor might study a particularly bizarre alien life form, then shakes it stiffly. "River."

Something's a bit off about this one, Rose thinks. "River, that's a lovely name," she says. "You're here on your own, then?"

"Waiting for Simon," River says, leaning against the rail and closing her eyes. "He's got people to talk to, but I don't like hospitals. White walls and sterile smells and things that poke and jab. The sea smells cleaner."

The Doctor takes a step forward, eyes bright with curiosity. Rose shakes her head at him – don't pester the poor girl – but he just brushes her shoulder lightly and ignores the warning. "Not from around here, then?"

"We're just visiting," River says airily. "Like you."

The Doctor gives her a hard look. "Yes," he murmurs. "You are, aren't you?"

The girl smiles, small and strange.

"Okay," Jack finally says, apparently deciding River isn't a favorable candidate for seduction. "Now that we've sorted that out, can we please go off and behave like proper tourists now? By which I mean booze and slots."

Rose breathes deeply of the salt air. It smells...clean, like River said. Nothing wrong with booze or slots, but right now, she's just not in the mood. "You go on," she tells Jack. "Think I'll hang about out here for a bit."

There's the solid warmth of a hand on her arm, and she smiles up into the Doctor's sharp blue eyes. "Thought you wanted a bit of a holiday," he remarks. "Changed your mind?"

"Not at all," she reassures him. "This is perfect just as it is, Doctor. Got a fancy to try building a sand castle, actually." She grins. "You better keep an eye on Jack, though. Don't forget what happened last time he found a casino."

The Doctor grimaces. "Maxitrimegalon-beta, and the errant deck of whitejack cards. I've never seen a bloke turn quite that shade of mauve before."

"Well, then," Rose says encouragingly, over Jack's indignant protests. "I'll be fine."

After a moment's consideration, the Doctor nods. "Keep an eye out," he murmurs, leaning in just a touch. She can feel his breath on her ear, and shivers. "The girl's a bit of an anachronism. Can't be too careful."

River's watching them with an odd gleam in her eye, like she can hear every word. Rose isn't entirely sure what the Doctor means, calling her an anachronism, but before she has the chance to ask, he's off, walking briskly.

Jack winks back at her. "We'll fetch you for dinner!" he calls over his shoulder as he jogs after the Doctor, heading toward the nearest casino, where brightly colored lights twinkle out invitingly.

So Rose is left alone on the boardwalk, with the strange-eyed dark-haired girl. They regard each other for a few moments. Then Rose smiles, and River grins back. "Race you," River says.

They both immediately break into a run off the boardwalk and over the beach. Rose stumbles into the sand, curses, and yanks off her shoes. The sand feels cool and soft between her toes, catching her feet, tripping her up. River laughs, already barefoot, putting a meter or so of distance between them. Somehow she makes running over the beach look elegant, as though she's dancing across the sand.

River reaches the water's edge first. "I win!" she shouts, triumphant. "No power in the 'verse can stop me!"

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Rose inquires, and promptly shoves River into an incoming wave.

River shrieks and yanks Rose in with her. They both tumble down to their knees, sinking into the wet sand, as another wave catches them. The sea isn't particularly violent, and they're only just at the waterline, so it's not too bad – still, the seawater is bitingly cold, and after a few seconds' scuffle, they help each other up and run back up the beach, soaked to their waists and shivering.

"Ta very much for that," Rose says ruefully, trying to brush the wet sand off her legs. Her skirt's a mess now, but it'll hold. "Don't suppose you've got a towel or sommat?"

River shrugs, plopping down into the sand. "It's immaterial," she says breezily. "Evaporation is inevitable if eventual, even at these temperatures."

"So we'll dry off soon enough on our own, you mean," Rose says wryly. "Somehow I guessed."

The other girl smiles brightly. "Sand castle?"

"Sand castle," Rose agrees, and they set to work.

Once, only once, when she was eight, her mum scraped up enough money to take them both on holiday to Bournemouth. That first day at the beach, Rose had spent hours attempting to create a castle out of the sand, armed with only a toy shovel and tin bucket. She'd been very proud of the end result, though Jackie had just looked it over and remarked that she supposed architect oughtn't be too high on Rose's list of career aspirations. Where shopgirl fit in there, Rose had never asked.

This time, they've nothing but their own hands and the damp sand, but that's enough. Rose isn't much use, but River gets a solid foundation going and manages to give Rose simple, coherent directions in shaping the towers. It's rather like listening to the Doctor, whenever he bothers condescending to her level and actually explains how some alien culture or bit of the TARDIS works in terms she can understand.

"Time and relative dimensions in space," River remarks dreamily, smoothing out a turret. "All that is and was and will ever be."

Rose glances up from her work sharply. "What'd you just say?"

"Spatial relativity is simple," River tells her. "Faster than light travel, world after world. Basic technology. Time is different. Old dogs learning new tricks, firefly traversing through centuries. Wrong direction. Improbable."

"Firefly?" Rose asks, trying to make sense of this new muddle.

"Serenity," River confirms. For some reason, Rose hears it in her head as a proper noun; all capitalized, maybe, like the TARDIS. Or something like that. Serenity.

She thinks maybe she's starting to understand. "Your ship?"

"Serene. Tranquil. Calm. Not really, though. All a false front, put new paint on the hull and pretend she's sparkling inside when there are still pieces missing. Torn out chunks, ripped away, gaping wounds. Abandoned bibles. Reaching out in the night to the empty side of the bed." River looks up from the nearly-finished castle, her eyes meeting Rose's, dark and fathomless. "Always reaching for someone who's not there."

Rose blinks first, looking away. "Sometimes it's worse when he is."

"There but not there," River says, shaping the final tower. "Distant. Impersonal. The perfect doctor."

"He's not like that at all," Rose argues. "You only met him for a minute, what d'you know about it?" And since when did the conversation become about the Doctor, anyway? Weren't they talking about River's spaceship a second ago? And – wait, this is Earth, early twenty-first century, Rose's own time, they shouldn't have space travel yet! Not proper space travel, anyway. "Who are you?" Rose demands.

"Who are you?" River counters. "Companion. Not like our Companions, all of her body and none of her heart. Switched around. All of your heart and none of your body."

"What d'you know about it?" Rose asks again, her throat constricting. She clasps her hands together to keep them from shaking.

"You want to touch him," River says, running her hand lightly over the sand castle. "Want to feel his hearts beat under your fingertips, prove he's just like you, human and whole and alive. But he's not."

Rose tosses her head, resisting the urge to reach out and feel the coolness of the sand. "Course he's not human. He's an alien."

"No, not that." River caresses her creation like a lover. "Not whole. He's broken."

The castle crumbles beneath her hands.

"And all the king's horses and all the king's men..."

Rose bites her lip. "Couldn't put the Doctor together again."

She blinks back tears, and pretends it's just the salty air.

"At least, not with that daft old face," River remarks thoughtfully. Rose wonders what that's supposed to mean, but doesn't ask. She has the feeling she'd only be confused by the answer. It really is like talking to the Doctor.

"He never talks about it, not really," she says instead, tracing patterns in the sand. "I just know that there was some sort of war, and he's the only one of his kind left."

"Exterminate," River says, and there's a metallic sort of emptiness in her voice that makes Rose shiver. "Complete extermination. Bad wolf. Thousands of ghosts in your head and no more screaming, just nothing." Tears roll down the girl's pale cheeks. "I've heard that nothing, too." River hugs herself, knees drawn up to her chest. There's wet sand sticking to her bare legs. She looks very young.

Right, Rose decides, that's enough of that. She gets to her feet and kicks away the remains of the ruined sand castle. Over the sounds of the crashing waves, she can hear music coming from the boardwalk, notes drifting faintly along with the wind. It's an old-fashioned tune, jazz or ragtime or something like that, and Rose laughs. "I know this song."

River tilts her head to one side, listening. "Jazz and cocktails and dancing on an invisible spaceship," she sighs. "Beautiful."

"That's right, it is," Rose says, spinning around herself once, twice. The salt-soaked breezes catch her up, and if she closes her eyes, she might be all alone in the universe, with nothing but sea and sky and music. But what fun would that be? She waltzes herself over to River, curtsies, and holds out her hand.

River looks up uncertainly, but she's not clutching herself quite so tightly anymore.

"Dance with me," Rose says with a smile, and River laughs and reaches up to take her hand.

And when the Doctor and Jack return to the shore a few minutes later, that's what they find: two young women, barefoot and wild-haired, humming half-remembered melodies as they twirl each other across the sand.


vi. evidence of things not seen

"Big Block of Cheese Day," Will says flatly.

"That's right," C.J. agrees. "Go to."

"But seriously, aren't there more important things for me to do today than meet with..."

"Bob Engler," C.J. supplies helpfully.

"To talk about..."

"The government conspiracy to cover up information related to UFOs and little green men."

Will throws up his hands. "Why do I have to talk to this lunatic?"

"He used to be Sam's pet crackpot," C.J. says. "Guess you inherited him. Now go forth, young William. I've got a meeting with Alistair Johansson from the Society for Creative Anachronisms." And with an ironic salute, she's off.

Will stares down at the assignment in his hand in dismay. "Are you sure this isn't another practical joke?" he asks the empty air plaintively.

There's no help for it. If this is all a big practical joke enacted for his benefit, he may as well take it like a man and walk straight into the punch line. He heads off to the conference room to meet Bob Engler.

A lanky, thickly bespectacled, dour sort of man is waiting right at the doorway. "Mr. Engler, I presume?" Will says bravely. "My name is Will Bailey, I'm the Deputy Communications Officer here at the White House."

He holds out his hand. Bob ignores it.

"I was hoping to speak with Sam Seaborn," Bob says stiffly. "This is a matter of extreme importance. Mr. Seaborn and I have an...understanding."

I'm sure you do, Will thinks. "Sam doesn't work at the White House anymore, I'm afraid," he says politely. "But I'd be very happy to help you with anything—"

"They got to him, didn't they," Bob says knowingly. "I should have expected as much." He shakes his head in regret. "Darn shame."

"Er," Will says. "I think he opened a legal practice down in L.A., actually."

Bob just looks at him. This has to be a joke.

"Really, Bob, I'm sure Mr. Bailey is perfectly able to assist you." The woman's voice is low and melodious, somehow managing to convey both perfect gentility and irritated impatience at once.

Will pokes his head into the conference room, startled. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize—"

Bob sighs as though under great duress and steps aside to allow Will into the room, following to shut the door behind them. "This...creature," he says, in tones of immense distaste, "calls herself Inara Serra."

With a rueful smile at Bob's expense, Inara Serra stands gracefully and steps forward, taking Will's hand. She's the most beautiful woman he's ever encountered.

Well, okay, objectively speaking, that's not true. After all, he lived in California for years. He's met lots of very beautiful people. Inara's face is certainly lovely enough, framed by a cascade of dark ringlets. Her dark, gleaming eyes are lined with kohl, her sculpted lips a dusky red. She's wearing an elegant, draped dress bordering on the exotic, all yellow and violet silk, hugging her curves in all the right places. So, yes, a very attractive woman, without a doubt. But more than that, something in her carriage, in the way she holds her head up, the sway of her hips as she moves – it's almost regal, somehow, Will thinks, pleased to have found the right word to describe her.

What on earth is a woman like this doing with that...dweeb?

"Bailey," he stutters out. "Uh, Will Bailey. Is my name. But you heard me say that already, didn't you? Yes. Yes you did. Uh, anyway, it's really great to meet you, Ms. Serra."

She just smiles, clearly accustomed to the effect she has on men. "Please, just Inara."

"Right," Will says. "Certainly. Inara. Um, how can I be of service?"

"It's Mr. Engler," Inara says, gesturing. "He stumbled upon me in Nevada, of all places, and insisted I accompany him. He'd like to...lodge a complaint, I believe?"

"I most certainly would," Bob blusters. "Mr. Bailey, are you aware that your government – the men and women in this very building, no less! – is conspiring to conceal the fact that aliens, even now, walk among us?"

Will blinks. He blinks again. It still doesn't make sense. "I'm sorry?"

"He's referring to me, Mr. Bailey," Inara says with a sigh. "You see, I come from another planet. So to speak."

"I...see," Will says slowly. "And you came here..."

"In my spaceship," Inara says, completely straight-faced. She would be a formidable poker player, Will thinks irrelevantly. "From a different galaxy."

Her voice is perfectly solemn, but her eyes twinkle merrily, and Will almost sighs with relief. It is a practical joke, only he doesn't seem to be the target. He looks back at Bob, who's getting a bit pink in the face.

"You see, she admits to it!" Bob says, twitching impotently. "And yet you people—"

"I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure what the problem is here," Will says. "You're accusing Ms. Serra here of being...of extraterrestrial origin. She's not denying it. Fascinating though that all may be, I'm not clear on why you've come to the White House instead of, say, the Washington Post."

"I tried them first," Bob admits grudgingly. "They thought I was crazy."

"Did they," Will says politely.

Inara just smiles.

"Look, Mr. Engler," Will goes on, smooth as silk, "you're clearly an intelligent man. Perceptive. Shrewd, even. So I'm sure you understand that there are certain things the President and the Joint Chiefs simply are not at liberty to reveal to the public."

Bob opens his mouth mutinously, so Will hurries onward.

"And while I can certainly appreciate your impulse to go public – to make a stand, to give the administration a bit of a black eye, so to speak – well, you have to understand. The information that Ms. Serra here possesses – the advances in technology alone – well, we all thought the US was leading the space race, but as you can see, we were all horribly mistaken."

"Like I've been saying for years," Bob puts in hotly.

"Exactly. But right now, we have a vital opportunity – as a government, as a nation – to correct our errors. But if word of this got out" – and here he pauses, shaking his head sadly – "well, we wouldn't stand a chance. On the galactic scale, I mean. We'd lose it all."

Bob is nodding now, dour and contemplative. "You do have a point."

"We can't afford to lose your cooperation in this matter, Mr. Engler," Inara adds, with a particularly winning smile. Hook and bait. "You understand how these things work."

"Yes," Bob says. "I suppose I do, don't I?"

It takes a few more minutes of platitudes, but they have him. And, thankfully, Bob allows himself to be showed out the door shortly thereafter, contented with his renewed sense of self-importance.

"Thank you, Will," Inara says with a smile, once the man is well and truly gone. "That was well-handled. Though Mr. Engler may appear to...lack credibility, shall we say, I'm grateful you managed to put all this nonsense to rest before he found a wider audience."

"It's no problem at all, Inara," Will says, feeling absurdly proud of himself. "Most of these nutjobs just want to be able to say they've spoken with a senior White House staffer, that's all. They aren't actually looking to make a stir."

"Nevertheless, I appreciate your efforts," Inara says smoothly. She smiles, and Will smiles back, transfixed.

And then he has a thought.

"Wait," he says. "I know Bob's just a nutcase, but...what do you want?"

For an instant, the pleasant mask drops away. There's a sadness in her eyes, a too-raw pain, that makes him want to look away. "Peace," she says quietly. "Just...to be left in peace, just for a little while. Just this once."

Will clears his throat. "Inara..."

"But since it seems we can't have that even here, I'll be letting Mal know it's about time to be off again," she says briskly, that lovely façade firmly back in place.

"Mal?"

"Malcolm Reynolds," she elaborates. "The captain of my spaceship." Her dark eyes gleam. "It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Bailey. I believe I can find my way out."

Practical joke, Will reminds himself, watching her retreating figure mutely. It has to be.

But no one's laughing, and he wonders.


vii. detour

"Area 51?" Scully sighs. "Again? I'm beginning to think our adversaries lack imagination."

Mulder's lips twitch, the hint of a smile. "Not technically Area 51, actually, but close enough. And it's a comforting tradition, isn't it? It's...classic."

"Borderline retro, even. Mulder, are we really reverting back to chasing bright lights in the sky? I thought we'd progressed beyond that in the past ten years."

"Classic X-file," Mulder persists. "The good old days, when we thought there was only one alien race and our biggest concern was that the government was hiding really nifty gadgets from the general populace."

"What's this we, buster? I was an unwilling participant."

"You were willing enough. C'mon, Scully, it'll be fun. Besides, I like Nevada."

She lets him drive, rolling down the window and letting the cool dust-dry twilit desert air caress her face.

It must be after midnight when she opens her eyes, startled out of sleep by a sudden stillness. Mulder's stopped the car, she realizes. He's outside, leaning against the hood, staring up at the sky.

Stiffly, she unbuckles her seatbelt and goes out to join him, stretching the kinks out of her back. All the hours she's spent in a car with him, she ought to be one with the machine by now. The night – or is it very early morning? – air is surprisingly chilly, and she hugs herself, rubbing her bare arms. She always somehow forgets how cold the desert can be at night. She walks around the front of the car to lean against Mulder, letting the warmth of his body beside her seep into her own skin. She tilts her head up, following his gaze.

The stars wink down at her, countless billions, studded against the endless expanse of dark velvet sky like so many tiny jewels.

"Over there," Mulder murmurs. "Two o'clock. Just behind the rock formation that looks like Mickey Mouse."

Casually, without moving her head, she scopes it out. There's a dark figure there, crouched behind the rock. Starlight gleams off metal – gun.

"Got him," Scully breathes. "Game time."

In an instant, they've both reached back for their own weapons – Scully's at the small of her back, Mulder's in an ankle holster. "We're not looking for trouble!" Mulder shouts across the sand as they stride forward, both keeping their guns trained on the stranger. "Just have a couple of questions, that's all!"

There's a muffled curse. "Sure you do. Feds! Why can't anybody in this gorramn 'verse just leave us alone?"

"We're not feds," Mulder says. "Not anymore, at least."

"And why should I trust you?"

Mulder shrugs, giving him a lopsided grin. "Probably shouldn't. I don't know. We have no interest in shooting you, though. You have any particular interest in shooting us?"

Scully favors her partner with a quick glare. This is so not Bureau protocol. But what in their lives these days is, anyway?

There's a beat of silence. Then the stranger lowers his gun. "Not really," he says, and stands. He's a tall, lean man, all rough edges and angry eyes. A man who's seen a lot of life, and not enough of it good. "Well, if you are plannin' on shooting me, I'd consider it a kindness if you went and got it over with," he says tiredly.

Mulder and Scully exchange looks, then simultaneously lower their weapons. He hardly looks like someone involved in a governmental conspiracy; there's something in the weary lines of his face, visible even by starlight, that suggests he's walked as long and painful a road as she and Mulder have themselves. "My name is Scully," she says. "This is Mulder."

"Malcolm Reynolds," the man says sourly. "Pleasure to meet you both. Now, if you're not here to shoot me, I'd like to go back to enjoying my solitude."

"What brings you out here tonight, Mr. Reynolds?" Mulder cuts in, with a disarming smile.

"Just enjoying the lovely evening, like you folks, I'm sure," Reynolds says. He tilts his head upward, and the lines of his face smooth out a bit in the starlight. His voice softens. "Don't hardly get tired of looking at 'em, myself."

"No," Mulder murmurs. "Neither do I." His eyes narrow as he watches Reynolds.

Scully bites her lip. She knows there's no way in hell Mulder will just drive off without getting his answers, but there's no reason to antagonize this man. Maybe if she can just ease into it. "Have you by any chance noticed any...unusual activity in this area?" she asks, as delicately as she knows how. "Strange lights in the sky, for example? In all your stargazing, you may well have glimpsed something..." She trails off, noticing the sudden wry twist to his lips. There's a distinct amusement in his eyes.

"Oh, that," he says. "I wouldn't worry myself about that, Ms. Scully. She'll be back on her way soon enough."

"She?" Mulder demands, eyes alight with sudden excitement. "A ship, you mean? You've seen it?"

"You could say that," Reynolds drawls. "I'm just resting here for a spell. Bit of a vacation from the rest of the 'verse. You should try it sometime," he adds, his gaze on them sharpening. "Resting, I mean. I hear it does wonders. Can't carry it all on your shoulders for too long. It tends to wear a body out."

He's all alone out here, Scully realizes suddenly. No car, no bike, no horse even. Where did he come from, with hundreds of miles of desert in every direction? Desert, and scrubby brush, and strange rock formations that were part mountain and part boulder, plenty bulky enough to hide a dwelling of some sort.

Or a ship.

"It does at that," Mulder is saying. "But the UFO—?"

"Ain't nothing unidentifiable about her," Reynolds says, with a hint of indignation in his tone. "Well, except for a part of the thermal compressor that Kaylee rigged up to the engine off Persephone a while back. Can't begin to identify what it is or was ever originally intended to be."

Mulder looks like he's just been told that Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy all really do exist, and better yet, they fly in spaceships. "You mean...?"

"I mean I wouldn't worry myself about it," Reynolds repeats firmly. "We'll be off again soon enough." He turns deliberately, heading back toward the boulder/mountain/Martian-rock-formation thing.

"We could follow you, you know," Mulder calls after him.

Reynolds turns back with a smile. "You could," he agrees. "But it'd be a waste of your time, and mine." He pauses, considering. "Although if you happen to frequent any bars in the general area, and you happen to notice a big, ugly fella with a lot of big, ugly knives beating up on anyone, could you kindly point him back in this direction? I really don't trust Jayne to find his way back here, and I'd rather not have to go hunting for him my own self." With a polite nod, Reynolds walks away, a shadow against shadows in the thin, cold starlight.

Mulder watches him go, a keen yearning in his eyes. Scully understands. To be able to rest, she thinks longingly. To be able to just fly away and never look back, follow Reynolds in his ship back out into the black, surround themselves with stars.

But this is their home, and they still have so much work to do.

"Come on, Mulder," she says softly, touching his arm. "I could use a drink."


epilogue: downloaded

The hybrid stirs restlessly, eyes wide and blank.

"I am the one and the five and the twelve and the thirteenth. In sequence each subsequent number is equal to the sum of the previous two numbers of the sequence itself, but the five is to the eight is to the thirteen tribes of Kobol. End of line. The data stream flows in the order that is Time, and the One shall return to the Four to complete the Twelve. I see the stars grow dark in the shadow of the valley of death, and death completes him brings him home losing the stars and the sky and the peace. The woman weeps with the flame and the bringer of death dances."

She blinks rapidly, breath catching.

"The final five the final fifth final sequence of chain links wavelengths cortex waves model number twelve Miranda returns to us awakens!"

In a pool of white plasma, Cylon model number Twelve, who in another life was called Wash, jerks upright, gasping, pale skin slick with fluid. He convulses with the residual terror of a former death, consciousness downloaded without self-awareness into a new, unbroken body.

"Serenity!" the hybrid gasps. "Jump!"

Date: 2008-10-28 03:07 am (UTC)
skybound2: (DW Bad Wolf Bat Signal)
From: [personal profile] skybound2
Oh, wow! Love the Doctor Who crossover! River's prose is eerie, and perfect. And you've got Rose and the Doctor (and Jack!) beautifully written. Wonderful job on that one. I'll have to bookmark and read the rest soon :-)

Date: 2008-10-28 03:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you!

Date: 2008-10-28 03:41 am (UTC)
ext_7237: (Default)
From: [identity profile] adriana-is.livejournal.com
All of the crossovers were wonderful! Loved each one and posted a rec over on my page. *mems*

Date: 2008-10-28 03:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you! I'm glad they worked for you. :)

Date: 2008-10-28 03:45 am (UTC)
tree: the hybrid; text: end of line (with an animated cursor blinking) ([bsg] end of line)
From: [personal profile] tree
these, all of them, are so well done; such wonderful tiny pieces like charms on a bracelet. i particularly love your River-voice and the epilogue. i have a strange and unreasoning fascination with the hybrid. :)

Date: 2008-10-28 03:49 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thanks! I'm glad they worked for you -- especially the Hybrid part. ;)

Date: 2008-10-28 04:10 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jimmyrabbitte.livejournal.com
It's amazing. I'm elated and agog and each of them feels like they could start a season and why aren't there more?

I want conclusions, or at least continuations. I want to know how Serenity got there, and what's going on, and just basically more. You've done something spectacular here, and I love the hell out of it. (And it's given me a good kick in the pants towards finishing the three or four stories I've got half-done on my hard drive.)

Date: 2008-10-29 09:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
:D

I'm glad they worked for you.

Date: 2008-10-28 05:24 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] tassosss.livejournal.com
This is wonderful! I especially loved the Iron Man one and the Doctor Who one, but all of them were perfect.

Date: 2008-10-28 05:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you! I'm glad they worked for you. :)

Date: 2008-10-28 05:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] thecolourclear.livejournal.com
Holy. HELL. Please tell me you write more River. I don't think I've ever read a River as fantastic as yours. GOD.DAMN. I'm in love.

(side note: I googled Society for Creative Anachronisms. :) Sounds more devious then they are.)

Date: 2008-10-28 05:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
River is ridiculously hard to write. I haven't written her before, but there's a decent chance I will in the future, so I'm glad she worked for you! Thanks. :)

Date: 2008-10-28 08:04 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] thecolourclear.livejournal.com
I can imagine River is hard to write and man alive, I just noticed you write HDM.

*scurries off*

Date: 2008-10-28 09:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] elzed.livejournal.com
Wow, that was amazing - I only watch about half the shows you crossed over with, but I was hooked all the way through. Brilliant pulling together of all these characters, and the snippets here and there of broader story - from the planting of an idea in House's mind for future use; to the revelation that Wash is gthe Twelfth Cylon... Fab. Just fab.

Date: 2008-10-28 05:28 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you! I'm glad it all worked for you, even without knowing all the fandoms involved (which was my goal, so).

I'm actually working on the Wash-as-final-Cylon fic, so I'm particularly glad that bit interested you. :)

Date: 2008-10-28 11:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] reetinkerbell.livejournal.com
These were all wonderful, even if I personally am not involved in about half of the fandoms. :P I really like how you paired up the characters with a different fandom - they were all well matched.

Date: 2008-10-28 05:28 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed them.

Date: 2008-10-28 03:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sammie28.livejournal.com
Loved seeing a smaller River interacting with Rose!

And:
"We can go anywhere in time or space, and you brought us to New Jersey."

:-D I echo the sentiment. Double. Triple.

Date: 2008-10-28 05:29 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you! And, er, yeah. New Jersey. What can I say, really.

Date: 2008-10-28 04:09 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] roguecatwoman.livejournal.com
I love Detour and the Epilogue! Oh, Wash... as the Twelfth? Awesome!!

And this bit: Mulder looks like he's just been told that Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy all really do exist, and better yet, they fly in spaceships.

Hee. I could so picture Mulder's expression!!!!

Wonderful work! =D

Date: 2008-10-28 05:29 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Again, thank you! I'm particularly glad the epilogue worked for you. :)

Date: 2008-10-28 04:45 pm (UTC)
lorax: A Stack of Books (BSG:  Final Five "Hour Getting Late")
From: [personal profile] lorax
That was. . . fun and strange and beautifully IC for everyone. I loved all of them - even the sections from fandoms I'm not familiar with! I think I loved Dean and Jayne and Zoe and Vince & Stuart best though.

Fantastic job. And a really fun, different read!

Date: 2008-10-28 05:31 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you! I'm glad Dean worked, as I've only watched a handful of SPN episodes. And the Vince & Stuart section was by far the most fun to write, so, yes. :)

Date: 2008-10-28 05:39 pm (UTC)
lorax: A Stack of Books (Misc:  Penny Arcade Gabe *Smooch*)
From: [personal profile] lorax
Hee, I say that, and then remember how much I loved the Iron Man section. I giggled like crazy at the end and though Pepper was fantastic. . . so really, it's hard to pick a favorite.

Date: 2008-10-29 12:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] burntcopper.livejournal.com
:is fascinated:

Date: 2008-10-29 09:45 pm (UTC)

Date: 2008-10-29 07:11 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] tardis-stowaway.livejournal.com
You've got talent coming out of your ears! (Fortunately, it's also coming out of your typing fingers.) The Doctor Who one was amazing. I particularly liked the interactions between River and Jack. The Iron Man section was loads of fun. Even the many sections from fandoms I'm totally unfamiliar with were interesting. Seeing the different ways the Serenity crew are dealing with their trauma really made it worthwhile to read the whole thing.

Date: 2008-10-29 09:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you! I'm so glad it all worked for you -- even the unfamiliar fandoms. :)

Date: 2008-10-31 11:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] flurblewig.livejournal.com
These are all breathtakingly superb, but I think the Doctor Who was my favourite. Your River is awesome :-)

Date: 2008-10-31 07:47 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you!

Date: 2008-11-01 07:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] leiascully.livejournal.com
Excellent work! The care you put into crafting your sentences and keeping your characters true is evident.

Date: 2008-11-02 01:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you! I'm glad it worked for you.

Date: 2008-11-06 07:24 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] shamusandstone.livejournal.com
I read this days ago but didn't have time to comment. This is fantastic--every piece of it really works. Kudos for not always taking the most obvious combinations of characters, too.

Date: 2008-11-07 01:19 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Date: 2008-11-09 08:03 pm (UTC)
such_heights: amy and rory looking at a pile of post (ff: river)
From: [personal profile] such_heights
Ooh, how cool is this?! Absolutely fantastic writing, as always. :D

Date: 2008-11-09 10:28 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you!

Date: 2008-11-18 02:15 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] krazykitkat.livejournal.com
Wonderful West Wing crossover, oh Will!

And while I don't watch Dr Who, loved River.

Date: 2008-11-19 10:33 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you!

Date: 2009-01-14 03:49 pm (UTC)
ext_25977: (Default)
From: [identity profile] sash--sweetie.livejournal.com
You just made my ultimate happiness! X-Files, Firefly, and West Wing all in one fic, and it totally worked! **happy**

Date: 2009-01-14 11:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kaydeefalls.livejournal.com
Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)

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