Best Served Cold
Tuesday, November 28, 2006

A dark ficle, not fitting anywhere really in my scheme of things, although it's the same characters. So read and comment!


Mal sat at the table, nursing a drink, looking as if he’d been there for hours. Just waiting.

A man shouldered his way through the doors, heading for the bar. “Beer,” he ordered, then leaned back to look around. The barman poured, then nodded, whispering something. The man turned his gaze on Mal. He picked up his beer and ambled over. “Man says you were looking for me.”

“Depends,” Mal said, not looking up, just taking a mouthful of alcohol and letting it burn down his throat.

“On what?”

“I heard tell you know women in this town.”

The man grinned. “I know a few. What kind were you looking for?”

“Something different.”

“Yeah, know a few of them too.” The man pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. “What for did you want one?”

Mal looked up, his blue eyes cold. “What else would a man want a woman for?”

The man laughed, a hungry sound, lustful. “Got that right.”

“Of course,” Mal went on, “I wouldn’t want it to be anyone local. Just in case …”

“I know what you mean,” the man said, winking.

“I'm sure you do.”

“Yeah, there was this one little filly came in, day or two ago. Tall, powerful … just kinda wanted to look at her.” He smiled lasciviously. “Only a‘course that weren't the only thing you wanted to do. Kinda get hold of that short hair, pull her onto ya …”

“Did you?” Mal asked.

The man shrugged. “I went up to her, talked to her. She was friendly enough at first, then sorta froze on me. Don’t know, but bitches like that seem to take against me sometimes.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“Guess I mighta had my hand on her ass. Sure was fine, though. Firm. Wanted to take a bite outta it, you know what I mean?”


“She said something about taking it away, only I know she didn’t mean it. Women say one thing, mean another. ‘Specially since I was gettin’ friendly. So I squeezed.”


“She hit me.” The man touched his jaw, stroking it. “Put me down on the floor. Poured a beer over me too, told me to cool off.” His face darkened. “Everyone was laughing at me.”

“Were they.”

“She finished her business and walked out. Didn’t know I was waiting for her.”

Mal stirred a little. “Waiting?”

“Yeah. Outside. Dark by then, and she was heading towards the docks, but I knew the way she had to go. Got there first.” He smiled, his teeth shining whitely in the gloom of the bar. “She musta been concentrating on getting back somewhere, ‘cause she didn’t hear me. But I was real quiet anyway. Just swung that two by four at her head and took her down. Still tried to fight me, even then, got in a coupla blows until I hit her.”


“Kinda saw red then. I had been plannin’ something a little more … fun,” he grinned. “But her hitting me made me angry. Guess I got carried away.” He looked at the weaves on his knuckles and chuckled. “Doubt she looks so good now.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Mal agreed, looking up from his drink.

The man stopped. “What … you seen her?”

“You had to ambush her,” Mal said, pushing his chair back a little. “Because you knew, in a fair fight, she’d have taken you down. She’d already hit you, and that made you angry.”

“What –“

“You broke her jaw, her nose, three ribs, punctured a lung, stamped on her knee … then left her to drown in her own blood.” Mal stood up.

“Now look, mister –“

Mal’s movement, in contrast to his stillness, took the man by surprise. He found himself up against the wall, all of the taller man’s weight on him.

“My wife,” Mal said quietly.

Mal watched as fear filled his eyes then punched him deep in the belly. As he bent forward, trying to grab air into his lungs, Mal brought up his knee, feeling the cartilage in the other man’s nose break satisfactorily. He grabbed the man’s hair, thrusting him back against the wall and shattering the mirror behind. Two swift punches to the ribs followed, with the same to the jaw, and blood and teeth flew across the room. The man slid to the ground, barely conscious.

“My wife,” Mal repeated, ignoring the pain in his hands. “Someone found her, brought her home. Not quite dead. Otherwise you would be.” Mal stood upright, then brought his booted foot down on the other man’s knee. He screamed as the bone shattered.

Mal stepped back, then looked at the barman. “Sorry about the mirror,” he said.

The barkeep shrugged. “He really do that?”

Mal nodded. “He really did.”

“She gonna be okay?”


The barman nodded. “Good. And don’t worry about the damage. I’ll take it out of him later.”


The rest of the patrons sat silently, watching as the tall man strode out of the bar, not once looking back at the man groaning on the floor.


Wednesday, November 29, 2006 1:25 AM


Mal seems all warm, but i think everyone knows he's entirely capable of that and more. The coldness ya portray is perfect for the part/situation

much awesome.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006 2:39 AM


I think Mal was more than generous not killing that scumbag outright. I loved the way that Mal let the man talk his way deeper and deeper into trouble. Nice that that barman sided with Mal once he heard what had happened. Yep, righteous indignation and fury can sure pile on a ton of hurt. I hope Freya recovers okay. Ali D :~)
You can't take the sky from me

Wednesday, November 29, 2006 4:53 AM


Oh that man messed with the wrong woman. It would have been a bit interesting if the woman he'd attacked hadn't been Freya, but another woman on his ship ... it would have shown that even after he's married he's still got that overprotective streak a mile long.

A tad dark, but completely in character!

Wednesday, November 29, 2006 4:26 PM


Damn...this is something I would have really liked to see (in general as a episode, not specifically) as a character moment for Mal: seemingly friendly and open-minded towards misogynistic behaviour...till the evidence is clear and he just goes wrathful angel on the scumbucket who dared to make his promises of protection invalid.

That and the fact the man had no respect for a fighter. Sneaky shot with a plank indeed....



You must log in to post comments.



Now and Then - a Christmas story
“Then do you have a better suggestion? No, let me rephrase that. Do you have a more sensible suggestion that doesn’t involve us getting lost and freezing to death?”

[Maya. Post-BDM. A little standalone festive tale that kind of fits into where I am in the Maya timeline, but works outside too. Enjoy!]

Monied Individual - Epilogue
"I honestly don’t know if my pilot wants to go around with flowers and curlicues carved into his leg.”
[Maya. Post-BDM. The end of the story, and the beginning of the last ...]

Monied Individual - Part XX
Mal took a deep breath, allowing it out slowly through his nostrils, and now his next words were the honest truth. “Ain’t surprised. No matter how good you are, and I’m not complaining, I’ve seen enough battle wounds, had to help out at the odd amputation on occasion. And I don’t have to be a doc myself to tell his leg ain’t quite the colour it should be, even taking into account his usual pasty complexion. What you did … didn’t work, did it?”
[Maya. Post-BDM. Simon has no choice, and Luke comes around.]

Monied Individual - Part XIX
“His name’s Jayne?”

“What’s wrong with that?” the ex-mercenary demanded from the doorway.

“Nothing, nothing! I just … I don’t think I’ve ever met a man … anyone else by that name.”

“Yeah, he’s a mystery to all of us,” Mal said. “Even his wife.”

[Maya. Post-BDM. Hank's not out of the woods yet, and Mal has a conversation. Enjoy!]

Monied Individual - Part XVIII
Jayne had told him a story once, about being on the hunt for someone who owed him something or other. He’d waited for his target for three hours in four inches of slush as the temperature dropped, and had grinned when he’d admitted to Hank that he’d had to break his feet free from the ice when he’d finished.
[Maya. Post-BDM. The Fosters show their true colours, Jayne attempts a rescue, and the others may be too late.]

Snow at Christmas
She’d seen his memories of his Ma, the Christmases when he was a boy on Shadow, even a faint echo of one before his Pa died, all still there, not diminished by his burning, glowing celebrations of now with Freya.

[Maya. Post-BDM. A seasonal one-off - enjoy!]

Monied Individual - Part XVII
Jayne hadn’t waited, but planted a foot by the lock. The door was old, the wood solid, but little could stand against a determined Cobb boot with his full weight behind it. It burst open.

[Maya. Post-BDM. The search for Hank continues. Read, enjoy, review!]

Monied Individual - Part XVI
He slammed the door behind him, making the plates rattle on the sideboard. “It’s okay, girl, I ain't gonna hurt you.” The cook, as tradition dictated, plump and rosy cheeked with her arms covered to the elbows in flour, but with a gypsy voluptuousness, picked up a rolling pin.

[Maya. Post-BDM. Kaylee finds the problem with Serenity, and Jayne starts his quest. Read, enjoy, review!]

Monied Individual - Part XV
“Did we …” “We did.” “Why?” As she raised an eyebrow at him he went on quickly, “I mean, we got a comfy bunk, not that far away. Is there any particular reason we’re in here instead?” “You don’t remember?” He concentrated for a moment, and the activities of a few hours previously burst onto him like a sunbeam. “Oh, right,” he acknowledged happily.

[Maya. Post-BDM. A little with each Serenity couple, but something goes bang. Read, enjoy, review!]

“Did we …” “We did.” “Why?” As she raised an eyebrow at him he went on quickly, “I mean, we got a comfy bunk, not that far away. Is there any particular reason we’re in here instead?” “You don’t remember?” He concentrated for a moment, and the activities of a few hours previously burst onto him like a sunbeam. “Oh, right,” he acknowledged happily.

[Maya. Post-BDM. A little with each Serenity couple, but something goes bang. Read, enjoy, review!]