vilakins | Fics I will never write (except for these bits)

I've finally written those snippets of fics you think I will never ever write. I might note that these are the best of a frightening bunch.

For mistraltoes:
Vila becomes a Franciscan monk and nurses an injured and amnesiac Bayban back to health

Vila stopped, appalled. "What d'you mean, rescued amnesiac from the mines? That's a Vilacidal maniac with a thing about big guns! Look, I've got a late harvest vintage to bottle."

"And you do it very well, Brother Vila," Brother Ambrosius said soothingly, "and profitably too. But the order is also sworn to look after--"

"Beasts of the field, like old St Francis, yeah. Not that beastly though."

"Now, brother, whatever that man was, he has forgotten it. Remember, we are also to serve."

Vila considered a dish of warmed-up revenge, but Bayban looked so sad and lost and un-butcher-like, he sighed resignedly. "Oh, all right." He sat down in the chair beside Bayban's bed, hitching up his brown homespun robe. "You really don't remember anything?"

Bayban looked at him with the round eyes of an innocent child. "Of course I do! I remember the mines before the rebels rescued us."

"Nothing before that? Like being blown up with your own bloody great laser cannon on Kezarn?"

"Kezarn? That's where the slavers found me." Bayban grabbed Vila's arm, his face alight with hope. "Do you know me, then?"

"Not that well. Only met you for a few minutes, but--" Vila looked at him. It wasn't really Bayban. "They called you Babe, your friends. Has to mean something, that."

"Babe? That's nice, isn't it?"

"Probably because of your curly hair and fat cheeks. Well, they were back then. Your mum called you Babe too; you told me that. You don't remember your old mum?"

"I had a mother?" Bayban asked in wonder.

"Everyone has, mate. Yours was very well-known for her... works." Vila hummed a couple of bars of Ma Bayban but Bayban didn't react. "I bet she was right proud of you."

"She was?" Bayban leaned back on the pillow and smiled beatifically. "I'm glad I met you."

Vila smiled back and hoped he would always be able to say the same.

For

kerravonsen:
Hiro on the Liberator

One second he wasn't there and the next he was: a man with a screwed-up face that cleared to an expression of round-eyed and -faced wonder. He compressed his lips together and executed a small, quick bow.

The only one who responded was Cally, who stood up behind her station and did the same.

"I am Hiro Nakamura. I am here to tell you--" He caught sight of the starfield displayed on Zen's screen. "Ooooh! Sitar Tureku!" he said obscurely. "Boldly go!" He held up his hand with this fingers divided oddly.

"You," said Avon, "appear instead to have boldly come. How did you teleport onto the flight deck, and without a bracelet?"

"Tereport, yes!" Hiro said eagerly. "Tereport and time turavel!"

Avon sighed. "Not another one of those wizards." He waved a hand languidly. "Tempus domus."

Hiro stayed where he was. "Not wizard," he said earnestly. "Hero."

"Yes, I got that. You already introduced yourself."

"No, no, super hero." Hiro said without any trace of arrogance. "I have come to give you message from past, from science fiction comic book Burayku's 7. Save the bounty hunter, save the galaxy." He smiled, nodded, then screwed his features up into the centre of his round face and disappeared.

"Obscure to the point of meaninglessness," said Avon.

"Who'd want to save a bounty hunter?" asked Vila. "With us all wanted in all the wrong ways?"

Jenna made a squealy noise Vila have never heard from her before, and hugged herself. "He was utterly adorable!"

"I was overcome--" said Cally.

Not again, thought Vila.

"--with a strange desire to hug him tightly."

Hey! That's the effect I was going for, thought Vila. He had to admit however that he had been in the presence of a master. He sighed. He needed a consoling drink.

For

jaxomsride:
B7 fic totally smashing the fourth wall

Avon looked down at the accusing honey-coloured eyes. Eye, to be exact. "Don't give me that," he said. "You wanted out. You're out." He looked up at the ring of troopers surrounding him. "I on the other hand am expected to suffer beautifully; an oxymoron if I ever heard one." He bared his teeth in a savage smile. "Yet one must satisfy one's public."

As the shots hit him, he fell as gracefully as he could (which wasn't very) and lay, bleeding surprisingly slightly, his long curling lashes casting shadows on his pale cheeks. The only outward sign of his agony was a faint sheen of perspiration adding attractive highlights to his fine bone structure.

Blake had eaten himself into something approaching the size of a small moon, acquired a scar, and appeared to have stopped washing. He had hardly suffered. The next chance Avon got, he swore to himself, he was having a lashectomy and a nose job: something short and snouty.

For

sallymn:
'Sand' with Vila/Servalan instead of Tarrant

Servalan deliberately dipped her finger in gravy and licked it slowly, looking at Vila under her eyelashes. "And there's even dessert."

Vila swallowed nervously. "I didn't see any."

"Vila. Why do you think I hit that trooper on Sardos with a rock--I even broke a fingernail--and shot him? I wanted a return engagement, of course. Such clever fingers on that rope." She smiled. "And me."

Vila moved his chair back.

She pouted. "Didn't I tell you to be more trusting?"

"Around a snake like you?"

Servalan widened her eyes. "Oh, Vila. I'm just the girl next door."

"If you were the girl next door, I'd move!"

"Where would you move to, Vila?"

"The next galaxy?"

'Tsk. So hard to get." Servalan got up and came round the table. "Why do you think I've been following you around this one?"

"To piss us off?"

Servalan rolled her eyes. "All right, forget the small talk." She grabbed him and wrestled him to the floor.

For

snowgrouse:
Vila tries on Tarrant's leopard pants

Vila grinned at Dayna and raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell's the matter with you?"

"Just enjoying what's next to my skin."

Dayna curled her lip.

"Spots," said Vila. He winked.

"Ugh!" Dayna stood up. "I'm sure Cally can find you a cream."

"No!" Vila waved his hands, appalled. "Leopard spots! On silk!" He leered. "High-cut."

Dayna wrinkled her nose. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Leopard skin?" said Tarrant from the pilot's station. "I wondered where those had got to..."

He and Vila looked at each other in mutual horror. And screamed.

For

entropy_house:
Vila discovers that not only is Avon his brother, but due to mucking about with time-warps, also his father and therefore is the only suitable candidate to give Vila a kidney

"Avon!" Vila screwed up his face, which was almost as pale as the pillows he lay against. "Why Avon?"

"Quite," said Avon. "Why me?"

"Because," Orac said in an irritated voice, "he is the best match on Gauda Prime and he possesses two."

"And besides, you're the one who brought us here to get shot," Vila said resentfully.

"As logical as ever." Avon turned to Orac. "What makes you think I am the best match?"

"You are his brother."

"I most certainly am n--" Avon stopped.

"You were adopted into an Alpha family as a small child, were you not?"

Avon bit his lip, remembering Mummy with long blonde hair and a laughing baby brother.

"Not only that," Orac said smugly, "but you are his father."

"WHAT?" they both shouted. Vila tried to sit up, and Avon went white.

"You do remember the time travel experiments we did during night watches on the Liberator, Avon? You went back 33 years as I recall, and--"

"Tracy," Avon whispered.

"That was my mum!" Vila glared at Avon. "How could you! My own brother!"

"Half brother," Avon said, trying to hold on to his dignity. "We have different fathers."

"Actually," said Orac, "remember when you went back a few years before that?"

Fics I will never write (except for these bits)

no subject