Author: alianora (aliaspiral)
Fandom: Gilmore Girls
Request: Future fic with journalist Rory covering the events of the end of the world. Any pairings, angsty or not.
Summary: Its the Pax.
Notes: Not actually a Firefly crossover, although I did steal the Pax from Joss. It is necessary to know what it is in order to fully understand the story. G-23 Paxilon Hydrochlorate can effect people in two very different ways.
This is Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, and I'm coming to you live from New York City. In just a few hours, I will be heading across the country to Los Angeles, where things have been looking pretty strange. Reports have reached us of people going essentially catatonic in reaction to some unknown illness. We will alert you as soon as we know more. Until then, if you are on the West Coast, please try to stay inside your house as much as possible, as we have no way of knowing if this illness is airborne or passed through human contact.
"Rory. Rory, don't go."
"Mom, this is my job. I have to go."
"No, you don't. I'll spread the word that you were recently declared Queen of Lukamaurysookieville, and then we'll wait for the chickens!"
"When they ask you questions and favors, they'll bring you a chicken."
"A live chicken or a dead chicken?"
"Live, of course. We'll name the first one Moose."
"What will we do with a live chicken?"
"We can race them, and throw eggs at Michel. Oh! And then we have have Luke make us fried chicken!"
"Out of Moose? Mom, do I need to remind you about the trout that lived in our bathtub for three weeks?"
"Well, he can make us burgers that look like chicken."
"Rory, it isn't safe. People are disappearing, people are dying!"
"Well, I have Moose the Wonder Chicken to protect me. I'll be fine."
It started in California.
In a small town on the very edge of the coast.
A town so small that no one noticed anything at first.
But, then, it wouldn't have mattered if they did. It was already too late.
The grocery store clerk just rolled her eyes when the mechanic didn't show at work for the second day in a row.
"Dammit, Jimmy!" She swore at the closed garage door. She slammed her fist down on the car horn as hard as she could. "Wake up!" She screamed over the horn.
There was no response.
"Stupid fucking drunk," she hissed through her teeth. She was late for work again, and she wasn't going to lose her stupid job because of this stupid asshole going off on another bender. "I'll fix it myself," she muttered, nearly dislodging the crooked bumper balanced precariously on the front of her car as she stalked towards the garage door.
She could hear the faint sound of power tools as she got closer. She sighed. "Jimmy, tell me you didn't get drunk and accidentally cut your own hand off." She cringed at the thought, and gripped her cell phone tighter as she turned the door handle.
I'm Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, coming to you live from Avon, California, where it is believed the first casualty occurred. Mechanic Jimmy Lord was found unconscious in his garage by a customer. I'm here with Shelly Jacobs, the local postmaster, to hear what she has to say about the matter.
"He wasn't unconscious, Mom. That's what she said."
"Of course he was unconscious, Rory. What, do you think he just decided to lay down beside his buzz saw and take a nice nap? Ohh, we should put Buzz Saw Nap down on our list of future band names."
"Put Avon Calling Avon down too."
"No way, she sold Avon IN Avon?"
"I know! Who would've guessed?"
"Well, the Avon people, obviously."
"Which ones? The ones in the town, or the ones with the makeup?"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters, Mom! What will we do when someone asks us why we named the bank what we did?"
"Good point. Hmm. The ones with the makeup, then. Say, does the mortician sell Avon? Because that would just be cool! They could make up the corpses and give skin care advice at the same time!"
"What kind of weird gallows humor are you dealing with today?"
"Well, my kid's in the middle of an epidemic!"
This is Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, and I have to admit that doctors are stumped by this new illness. It doesn't seem to manifest with any outward symptoms that can be seen. Friends and family of those stricken say that it seems as if the person just..slows down. Until one day, they just don't get up anymore.
There are currently thousands of cases of this so called "Loafer's Syndrome" in California, and there have been reports of some new cases in both Nevada and Oregon.
So far, the death count is low. Those afflicted have been admitted to the hospital, and are being kept alive via feeding tubes.
And now, here's Robert with some unexpected news of animal attacks in the surrounding areas. We are unsure if the the attacks are due to the illness manifesting differently in animals than in humans.
"Rory, I don't like you being there."
"Mom, we've talked about this."
"I don't care. It's time for you to come home. You've done your job, you've reported about this thing, now come home."
"I feel fine, Mom. None of the news crew have gotten sick yet, and we're all watching each other like hawks. The instant I start slow down, the station will have my butt in the hospital, ok?"
"I don't like it, Rory. Not one bit. Why did you grow up and stop listening to me when I gave orders?"
"The last order you gave me involved me finding chocolate syrup for Kirk and Taylor to fight in. Somehow I ignored it."
"Thank God, because Kirk would never stoop so low as to fight in syrup."
"Weren't you the one who was telling me about his mud wrestling career?"
"It's not mud, my darling daughter. It's pudding."
This is Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, and more and more cases are being reported every day. My news crew and I have been placed under quarantine with the rest of Los Angeles, and look to be here for the long haul. People are hiding in their houses, and only coming out if absolutely necessary for food and water.
Doctors now believe this illness to be caused by some sort of chemical, possibly something that was placed in the water supply or something airborne.
Until further notice, professionals are recommending that people stick to bottled water until we have further answers as to the cause of this epidemic.
Also, there have been several more animal attacks reported, and they seem to be especially vicious. Please take care to stay safe.
"I'm fine, Mom. Really. Although if I have to hear any more knock knock or lightbulb jokes, I'm going to scream."
"You aren't fine, Rory. You're not."
"I'll be home soon. I promise."
"You bet your ass you will. Luke saw your report last night, and he's packing up his truck for the apocalypse. Come hell or high water, we're coming to get you."
"Mom, you and Luke cannot just drive into a state of quarantine!"
This is Lorelai Leigh Gilmore and...I don't know what to say. Um. Those animal attacks..um..I think..I think I saw...Oh God. They just..ripped them apart...Judd and Philip, I mean..they aren't...And I don't know if those things saw me...but they're aren't animals. They...they...they're coming, and it isn't like when my mom and I watched "Cannibal: the Musical" or when we..joked about who we would eat first...Mom..Mom, if you can hear this, I love you, ok? And I'm sorry I borrowed your green heels..I think..I don't think the blood is going to come out."
"This is CBS News, and the government has issued a statement involving a new chemical weapon that has been developed. Sadly, an accident occurred during transportation. Government scientists are working around the clock trying to develop an antidote. In the meantime, please join me in a moment of silence for the loss of one of our finest news reporting teams. We are still hopeful that we will be able to recover the bodies for their grieving families.
Thank you, and goodnight."