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Ficlet: What's Left
This was written several weeks ago for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
b7friday hope challenge. Set post-series.
What's Left
Vila's step was almost jaunty as he strode ahead of the others. "Not that far to the spaceport now. We're sure to find a ship there I can nick to get us off this dump."
"We've lost everything," said Dayna, rubbing her side which still hurt from when Arlen had shot her. "Don't you even mind?"
"Not everything. We're here, aren’t we?"
"I suppose," said Tarrant, "you could say we're lucky not to have been executed by Blake's lot."
"I could, yeah."
Dayna caught him up and glared at him. "You've been a misery guts all year, and now you cheer up? Now, when we've got nothing?"
Vila thought about that. It was true. He'd spent a lot of time fearing the worst and trying to anaesthetise the pain of loneliness and constant defeat, and now they'd all been turned loose by the rebels with nothing but their clothes, somehow things seemed better. Open. Anything could happen. "I suppose it's like that box," he said.
"What box?" Soolin asked.
"Story I read once. Pan-doohickey's box. When all the worst was gone, only one thing was left. Hope."
Avon spoke for the first time since they had been driven from the base. "Pandora. And it was probably a jar."
Vila glanced at him. Avon was gazing ahead instead of at the ground and his face looked... still dark and closed in, but somehow better. Vila grinned. He might have got it wrong, but he was right.
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