Thanks for waiting patiently! Here, at long last, is more.

Chapter 10

Inara was still smoldering from Mal’s authoritative brush-off as she left her shuttle a few hours later and headed for the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She was mentally running through all the choice words she was going to throw at the captain the next time she saw him, knowing he would give as well as he got so she needed to be prepared. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t immediately notice how quiet it was as she stepped into the dimly lit kitchen, but she stopped short at the sight that met her eyes.

Sitting at the table, shoulders slumped and head in his hands, was Mal. He looked so lost and defeated, so tired and forlorn, Inara’s heart broke and all her angry words melted away. Tenderly, she went up to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, not surprised at the tense muscles she could feel there.

“Hey,” she said softly, rubbing at the tight muscles, “you’re exhausted. Why don’t you get some rest?”

“Can’t sleep,” Mal muttered, not meeting her eyes.

“Shepherd Book piloting?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you can rest for a while,” Inara urged. “Stay there,” she added kindly. She squeezed his shoulder once more and then went to the stove, filling the teapot with water and putting it on to heat. Silence reigned as she worked, Mal not speaking and Inara using the time to collect her thoughts. When the tea was done, she filled two cups with the steaming liquid and brought them to the table. She set one in front of Mal and kept the other, sitting down next to him.

The man stared unseeing at the beverage for several seconds before shaking his head and turning to the companion.

“I’m not really a tea kind of guy,” he said, a limp half-smile crossing his face.

“It’s just an herbal tea that calms and sooths. It will help you relax. Besides, I promise not to tell a soul, your reputation is safe,” Inara answered, a compassionate, friendly smile on her own face. “Just drink it, Mal.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, grasping the little cup awkwardly and dutifully taking a sip. He grimaced at the bitterness but finished it anyway.

“So, you come here to finish chewing me out?” he asked wearily.

“Yes,” Inara answered truthfully and she saw Mal visibly stiffen, “but I’ve decided to just let it go. Call it a tie, or a truce, or whatever you will.”

Mal nodded, accepting her offer. He was silent for a moment again before speaking. “I don’t take back what I said, meant every word of it, but I am sorry I made you mad. Do what you need to, conduct your business,” he faltered slightly on that word but went on, “just please be careful, ‘Nara. I don’t want you in there lying on that bed.”

Tears pricked Inara’s eyes and she swallowed thickly, touched by the caring and vulnerability she heard in his voice. They spent so much time antagonizing each other and on the war path that she sometimes forgot how much this man meant to her, and that maybe he cared for her as well. It also wasn’t often that Malcolm Reynolds let his large heart show through; he was too afraid of having it blasted apart again. The fact that he had just been so incredible honest with her meant a lot.

“I’m always careful, Mal,” she said gently, rubbing her hand in small, comforting circles on his arm, “but I promise I’ll be extra careful while all this is going on.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. They sat in silence again, taking comfort in the presence of the other without having to be on guard for once.

“How’s Wash?” Inara asked after a while.

“Hurting,” Mal answered, his face clouding over.

“This isn’t your fault, you know. You’re not the one who did this to him.”

“Might not have swung the club or boiled the tar, but I put him in the line of fire. Bein’ a member of my crew made him a target.”

“But he’ll recover.”

“That’s not the point!” Mal blurted. “Shouldn’t have ever happened to him! That’s the second time I’ve gotten my pilot tortured, an’ he’s the one person who shouldn’t even know what the word tortured means!”

“Mal, I understand your desire to protect him. Wash is…just…well, Wash. But, he isn’t completely innocent, and he is an adult. I’m sure he’s had a few unpleasant, eye-opening experiences in his life to deal with before now.”

The sight of at least a dozen white, feather thin scars stretching across his pilot’s back flashed unbidden through his memory at Inara’s words, and he couldn’t help but wonder what he didn’t know. He kept his thoughts to himself, however, and Inara continued speaking, unaware of his ponderings.

“The very fact that he is out here, a member of your crew, shows that he knows and accepted the risks. I’m not saying I don’t feel horrible about all this, because I do. But you’ve got to stop beating yourself up for something that you couldn’t stop, and no one blames you for, least of all Wash.”

Mal sighed, his eyes sad. “I know,” he said softly. “Still don't make it right. Or - any easier to see him like that.”

A little light went on in Inara’s head and she suddenly had an idea of part of what was bothering the captain.

“Have you? Been to see him that is?”

Mal closed his eyes. “Yes, but not since he’s been awake. I just…I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m not sure the words are as important as the act of being there, Mal. You can't change what happened, but you can offer your comfort and support. He's hurt and scared, maybe even lying there blaming himself.”

Mal sighed. She was right. It would be just like the goofy, sometimes chronically worried pilot to think he had to take the blame for this one. Mal couldn’t let that happen.

He stood, pushing his chair back from the table, and started to leave the room. He paused in the doorway, however, turning back to Inara who still sat at the table, empty cup in her hands.

“Um, thanks,” he said, trying not to stumble over the words. “For…um…the tea.”

“You’re welcome, Mal,” Inara said gracefully, understanding everything that hadn’t been said as well. Silently, and with more than a little longing and regret, she watched him turn and walk away.

*****

Wash jerked awake just as the nightmare reached its peak, moaning deeply at the pain that action caused. Trembling and sweating heavily, he dragged his swollen eyelids open and turned his head. Blurry eyes made out a figure sitting in the chair beside his bed in the infirmary, but when the swimming image finally coalesced into something a bit more solid, he realized it was the wrong one.

“Zoë?” he croaked.

“Sent her to get some food. Said I’d sit with you for a while,” Mal said quietly.

“Water?” Wash asked next, licking at his dry, cracked lips.

With great gentleness, Mal lifted his head and held a cup to his lips so he could take a few sips, acutely aware of his pilot’s helplessness. “Better?” the captain asked. Wash nodded slightly.

“You hurting bad?”

The pilot looked away, not wanting to meet his friend’s eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered weakly.

“Want the doc?”

“He gave me everything he can already.”

Mal ducked his head slightly, looking decidedly guilty, upset, and totally unsure of what to say. It was obvious the man was in agony and it angered him there was nothing else he could do, but saying so wouldn’t make it go away or be any better.

“I’m sorry, Mal,” Wash said after awhile.

“For what?”

“For being the weak link,” he answered, voicing what he’d been worrying over since he woke up. “For giving the bad guys the opening, and putting Serenity and all of you in danger.” His voice cracked slightly, despite his best efforts to prevent it.

“Wash,” Mal said firmly, waiting until his pilot was looking at him again to continue. “I want ya to listen to me, an’ listen good. What happened was not in any way shape or form your fault, an’ I’m thinkin’ there weren’t a lot you could’ve done to prevent it. I’m the one who’s sorry; sorry this ever happened to you. Now, I am angry, an’ upset, an’ borderline furious, but not at you, dong ma?”

Wash nodded, but his eyes were still glistening rather suspiciously. “I’m still sorry,” he said, Mal’s kindness only making him feel worse. He tried to shift positions slightly but gave up when angry hurts screamed at him not to move. “So,” he said quietly, glancing down sadly at his bandaged hands, “I’ve been thinking.” Talking was quickly draining his energy, but anything was better than letting the nightmares claim him again. “Know a couple guys from flight school I might could hook you up with. Dan Fryer wasn’t half bad, and Tyrell Honma could hold his own.”

Mal let his eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “Why would I want to meet your old flight buddies now?”

“To see if one would work for Serenity’s new pilot…”

“Already got a pilot, Wash,” Mal said firmly.

“Mal, I’m like a bird with two broken wings: useless,” Wash whispered bitterly. “I’m just waiting for the part where you tell me which rock you’re putting me ashore on.”

Mal pulled the chair forward again, sitting down so he was eye level with the miserable man on the bed. “Wash,” he sighed quietly, shaking his head, “You’re on my crew.” He glanced away for a moment, finally looking back at the pilot with sadness and affection. His voice held a telltale roughness as he continued. “My crew’d be the closest thing to a family I got. Family don’t get left behind on rocks, ya hear me?”

Wash gulped, forcing himself not to cry. “Your family doesn’t starve, or crash into random planets ‘cause you got a broken pilot, either. We both know I gotta be replaced.”

“No one’s replacing you, Wash,” said Mal gently. “Don’t recall any of you ever replacing me when I got myself laid up. Just remember my friends pulling me through, and that’s exactly what’s gonna happen here. Got it all worked out an’ all you need to worry about is resting and getting better. Captain’s orders.”

“’K,” Wash whispered, not sounding totally convinced but too tired to continue arguing. At that moment, a loud noise sounded from somewhere outside the infirmary. Wash couldn’t help flinching at the sound, an echo of deep fear momentarily crossing his abused face. Mal frowned.

“So,” he asked carefully, truly concerned. “You gonna be okay?”

Emotions that Wash had been trying to keep at bay since he’d made it home swarmed over him with those quiet words, and he turned his face away, embarrassed and ashamed to have Mal see the tears he couldn’t stop from filling his eyes. He didn’t answer for a long time, hoping to regain control, but it didn’t matter. The fear and pain and terror of what had happened to him were too much to hold in anymore, and his voice was shaky and thick as he spoke.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, the words coming out almost as a sob. “I…um…I barely made it through last time, and you were there to keep me sane and alive.” He gulped strongly. “I’m not like you, Mal. I don’t do torture and pain and fear and bounce back for more. Every time I close my eyes now I smell tar and hear his voice and get stuck in the sheer terror, which is great considering I still have nightmares about Niska strong enough I’m considering investing in plastic sheets.” His voice cracked and tears crested his eyes, his chin trembling. “I…I don’t think I can do this again.”

“What do you mean you’re not like me?” Mal asked, his own voice rough with emotion. “You think I don’t wake up screaming in the night from the nightmares? ‘Cause you’re wrong if you do. Monster shows up in my dreams far more ‘n I’d like. An’ if you think I’m expectin’ ya to just get over this an’ go on like nothin’ happened, you’re wrong there, too.”

Wash looked back at him in surprise. “I didn’t know,” he whispered shakily, blinking his eyes hard in a frantic effort to force back the tears in them. “Always thought I was-“

Mal cut him off gently. “Wash, you were tortured, an’ the whole point of that is it’s an unbearable thing for a man to go through. You’re tryin’ to bear it, is all. Not gonna work, I can tell you right now. You’re gonna break down, and you might try doin’ it here with folks that care instead of alone in a cabin somewhere.”

As if they’d been waiting for permission, the dam broke and the tears came. There was nothing Wash could have done to stop them if he had wanted to. Turning his face away so he wouldn’t have to look at Mal, Wash let all the fear and pain out with the quiet, steady flow.

Awkward and unsure of what to do, Mal just sat there patting the man gently on the least abused part of his arm and hoping just being there was enough.

Eventually, the soft sobbing stopped and the tears slowed to a trickle. Wash sniffled loudly, but finally turned to look at his captain.

“Here,” Mal said, offering him another drink of water, which he gladly took. After a while, his red-rimmed eyes drifted shut again, but Mal could tell he was fighting sleep, still afraid to give into the nightmares.

“Wash?” he asked, wanting to get something out of the way and knowing there would probably never be a good time to ask. “Where did the scars come from? On your back?”

Wash stiffened on the bed, opening his eyes to pierce Mal with a guarded and accusing look.

“Noticed them when I was helpin’ the doc clean ya up. Know what they are, an’ now I’m wondering how my pilot came by more’n a few of them.”

Wash sighed, utter exhaustion evident in his posture and voice. “Let’s just call them my own personal reason for hating the Alliance and all it stands for, as well as one of the reasons I’m okay with being a get-a-way driver for a crew of smugglers and thieves.”

“Wash…” Mal started to press but was cut off.

“Could you go get Zoë?” the pilot asked shakily. “And maybe the doctor? I’m…not feeling so good…”

Mal suddenly noticed that Wash’s complexion had taken on a decidedly pale sheen, despite the bruises and burns, and he was trembling, a cold sweat breaking out across his skin. Worried, he hurried to the intercom and punched the button.

“Simon, Zoë need you in the infirmary now please.” Even as he spoke, Wash gave a strange, strangled choking cry, curling up like he was in great pain, and started gasping for breath. Alarmed, Mal rushed back to his side. “Wash,” he said, his voice urgent and firm, “Wash, what’s wrong?”

There was no answer. Mal watched as Wash’s eyes simply rolled back in his head as he stopped breathing.

Mal cursed softly for a brief second, then bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Simon! Need you in here yesterday!”