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BM&D Part IV -Things to Do in Hangxian When You’re Dead
Tuesday, April 26, 2005

The concluding part of “Births Marriages & Deaths”. The crew consider their mortality and Mal’s…


CATEGORY: FICTION    TIMES READ: 2670    RATING: 9    SERIES: FIREFLY

Saffron wove through the back streets of New Peking, looking for the berth in which Serenity was docked. It was early morning and few people were about. Those that were had their own problems to worry about and hardly turned an eye to the woman in their midst, never mind that that her dress was somewhat spattered with dry blood.

Saffron couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Of course, she didn’t rightly care if Captain Malcolm Reynolds were alive or dead, but she was feeling a little remorseful and confounded that he’d died at her hand. Still, once she obtained the Lassiter and was on her way, she was pretty sure the wedge of platinum she’d be getting when she fenced it would make up for her killer’s remorse.

Nevertheless, it felt a little off centre to have been instrumental in the death of someone you kind of knew. She wondered how long it would take the rest of the crew to find the body. Not long, if she knew them. They were a tight knit bunch, always looking out for each other. She felt a stab of envy and that led to annoyance. Their “do for each other” attitude put her teeth on edge. Well, this would show them where that kind of investment in others got you. Nowhere but the grave!

She had reached Serenity and slipped inside the small inner bay door, which was standing unlocked. She’d reckoned on having a bit of time to find the Lassiter, after all it was the middle of the night, well, early morning, surely nobody would be up. But, as she crept through the cargo bay, she was startled by the sound of many feet running along the catwalks. She ducked swiftly behind the mule, which was handily placed for spying and watched as pretty much every crewmember issued from the living quarters upstairs into the bay.

Zoë was the first down, strapping on a gun belt and barking orders at the others behind her.

“Jayne, Wash, you’re with me, we’ll head out, have a little scout around, my guess is Saffron won’t’ve gone too far from that bar. She’ll stick to places she knows, places as are safe, ‘specially if she’s comin’ up with a plan. ‘Nara, you go see if you can contact Haymer, see if he can give us any light on Saffron’s likely moves. Kaylee, talk to Serenity, see if there’s any way to track the Captain. Everyone else, stay here and keep things locked down. Don’t want no one else goin’ AWOL or gettin’ hurt. Doc, p’raps you can sort out yer sister some. Calm her down and such, drug her – lots - if you have to.”

“I’ll help you with that,” Book suggested to Simon, who nodded and they headed together towards the infirmary.

No one else seemed to argue. Seemed to Saffron, in Mal’s absence, Zoë naturally took command. Made you wonder whether she’d not like to have a command of her own one day. Not that she knew it but, by happy chance, that day just so happened to be today, following her Captain’s untimely death. The small cook woman headed back up towards the galley, hugging Inara tightly before she turned off to her shuttle. Jayne, Wash and Zoë headed out the cargo bay doors.

Saffron had been startled when they’d all appeared, but now she collected herself and thought hard. Seemed they’d somehow sussed something was up, but this situation could work to her advantage. Hadn’t Mal said that the cook had hidden the Lassiter? Now was a perfect opportunity to see about that.

She made her way to the common area outside the infirmary. As she did so, she passed the open door of the young girl’s quarters. She seemed to be spark out on the bed. Probably drugged, she surmised, if she had understood Zoë’s earlier comments. Creeping to the open door of the infirmary itself, she could see the doctor and the Shepherd inside. She drew out her gun, but then, recalling what had happened with Mal, she tucked it away and opted for a different approach. Before either Simon or Book could react, she had stepped into the doorway and, grasping both sections of the door, she slammed it shut and locked it.

She looked through the glass at the shocked and worried faces of the doctor and the preacher. She waived sweetly, tickling her fingers in a parody of a genuine greeting. She could smell their fear, the unspoken questions in both their faces; was the girl all right; was Mal? She suddenly felt a wave of venom for this “family” that the Captain appeared to have gathered around him. She spoke softly through the door, knowing they would hear her. “*Fahng-sheen*, the girl’s asleep… Your Captain’s dead though…”

***

Zoë, Jayne and Wash walked purposefully through the slums of New Peking, heading for the bar. Suddenly Zoë, in the lead, stopped dead, frozen. Wash, then Jayne, cannoned into her from behind.

“Son of a bitch! We are ruttin’ eejits! *Tah-shr suo-yo dee-yure duh biao-tze duh mah*! What in God’s name were we thinking?”

Jayne looked thoroughly confused and Wash said; “*Tyen shiao-duh*! What is it, honey?”

Zoë turned and started to purposefully half march, half run back towards Serenity. She explained over her shoulder as she ran. “Say Saffron is holding Mal hostage. What’s her next step? She’ll head for Serenity and try to make a grab for the Lassiter, that’s what! And we’ve just left the door wide open for her!”

Jayne and Wash both swore and all three of them broke into a run.

***

Simon sank back in shock against the cold metal of the counter.

“Did she just say what I think she said?” he asked shakily.

The Shepherd looked sorrowful, “yes, I’m very much afraid she did, son.”

“He’s dead then.”

“Yes.”

“I wonder how it happened?”

“Guess, we’ll find out soon enough…” the Shepherd sighed, “there’s going to be many on this boat as’ll miss that man, you and your sister, not the least.”

Simon gulped and nodded; leaning back against the counter he was keenly aware of the cold metal surface beneath his hands. Its icy surface could not however account for the sudden wintry chill that ran sharply through him. He vividly remembered, like firework flashes, half remembered words:

“Yeah. But she's our witch… So cut her the hell down.”

“You're on my crew. Why we still talking about this?”

“This is my boat, and they're part of my crew. No one's getting left.”

“You ain't weak. I don't know how bright you are, top three percent, but you ain't weak and that's not nothing. You live by my rule, keep your sister from doing anything crazy, you could maybe find a place here.”

He hadn’t been kidding when he told Kaylee that River loved Serenity, that it was more home to her than any other place she’d ever been. If he had been dissembling then, it had been about his own strength of feeling for the ship and for its crew. Sure, it wasn’t the Core with its gleaming hospitals, good pay and career prospects. But this rough and ready group of people, continually squabbling and grating on each other, but caring more than he’d ever imagined possible, these were more like a real family than anything he’d ever known.

And now the primogenitor of that family, the father figure, the core itself, always keeping the others in check and looking out for River, was gone. Simon had no idea what the others might choose to do with him and River now. There were certain people he was sure of, Wash and Harriet, Kaylee, but what about the others, now there was no Mal to tell them to act with nobility? Zoë would think of the dangers, but would protecting the Tams mean more to her than shielding the rest of the crew? Inara would look to her calling. Maybe she would see the economic advantages of getting rid of the Tams and being free to visit the Core again. The Shepherd, well he was enigmatic. He seemed to genuinely like River and Simon, but there was no knowing what his real intentions were or even when he might choose to leave Serenity. And that left Jayne. With no Captain to threaten and intimidate him into submission, Simon was willing to bet Jayne would sell them out in very, very short order, once the opportunity presented itself. He reckoned, without the aegis of the Captain, he’d give himself and River mere days to make good their escape before something treacherous happened.

He only now realised how much he had underestimated the Captain and his value. With his crotchety and gruff manner, he had led Simon to believe he was a difficult man, but now it appeared that he’d been a benign influence on the ship and its crew. He’d been a hard man to get to know and a tough man to like, but that rigidity itself translated into such strength, such unbreakable potency. Under the brusque exterior was man with a need to protect rivalled only by those renowned protective mothers of the animal kingdom, willing to die for any one of their offspring. He found he was suddenly finding it hard to breathe, the room felt stifling.

“Here, son,” the calm voice of the Shepherd cut through his heated thoughts, “sit down, you look all in. I’ll get you some water.” ***

Hat had decided that the best course of action was to keep herself busy, so she was making wonton. She concentrated hard on the little pastry parcels trying not to think about where Mal might be or what state he might be in. It seemed better to just believe, as always, that he’d get out of it somehow and be back on Serenity in no time, maybe with a minor bullet wound, a few knocks and scratches, but nothing too serious.

Amidst her working silence she heard a noise, nothing loud, but the sort of noise someone makes when they’re trying hard not to be heard. She whipped round to find Saffron standing in the doorway, watching her. “Hi honey, I’m home,” she said.

Hat stared for a moment and then, saying nothing - it really didn’t seem like the time for small talk, unaccustomed, as she was, to combat by banter - she reached smartly up behind her and pulled down Serenity’s biggest frying pan. At the same moment Saffron lunged for a bread knife, lying on the table and snatched it up.

“I heard tell that you want to cut in on my man.” Saffron smiled, “maybe I could help you with that?”

Harriet stood at one end of Serenity’s long galley table, brandishing the frying pan. Saffron stood at the other, ready to advance as she could. She flipped the knife coolly in the air.

“Look,” she smiled with no trace of real amusement, “I know how to handle kitchen implements too!”

“You *boo hway-hun duh puo-foo*! Take one step closer and I swear I’ll brain you,” Harriet’s shaky voice belied her firm words. “Where the hell is Mal, you gorram harpy?”

Saffron whistled amusedly, “Language, little miss Cook! You kiss your Captain with that mouth?”

If Saffron hadn’t been quite so distracted with amusement at Hat’s rather pathetic attempts to stand up to her, she might have noticed Hat’s pupils dilate in relief. As it was, the cocking of a gun at her temple took her completely by surprise.

“Drop the knife.” Zoë’s voice was hard, without a trace of tremor. Saffron, knowing when she was beat, dropped the weapon hurriedly and Inara, who had entered at the same moment from the shuttle-end of the room, scuttled to retrieve it and remove it out of harm’s way. Jayne leant in, around Zoë and removed Saffron’s gun. At the same time Wash moved over to Hat and prised the frying pan out of her grip.

“Lets put this down, shall we, before anyone gets hurt?” he asked soothingly and hung the pan back above the stove.

“Sit down.” Zoë’s voice had, if anything, got harder. Saffron sat, Zoë’s gun was still trained on her, but now Jayne had positioned himself at the other end of the table, lounging on a chair, as if it were only by accident that the muzzle of his gun had happened to swing round to cover her too. “Now, yer gonna tell us where the Captain is and best be quick, if ya don’t want to end up impersonating a colander.”

Saffron, initially startled by Zoë and the others, had relaxed and assumed her usual air of detached and cocky devilment. “Oh, did I forget to mention?” Her eyes strayed to Harriet, containing, if only for an instant, a hint of sympathy, “your ruttin’ fool of a Captain ain’t married to me any more… seein’ how he’s dead and all.”

Harriet managed not to react verbally to the news, though she did turn paler than any live person ought to be and one hand strayed unconsciously into a protective motion over her belly. Inara too had gone white. Wash swore quietly, but savagely under his breath and Jayne grimaced. Zoë however didn’t flinch nor react in any way. She simply continued to stare at Saffron and then nodded in a businesslike manner, “Well, then, you’ll be taking me to see the body.”

“Nah-ah” Saffron knew when to strike a hard bargain, “I’m not going anywhere or showing you anything without I get the Lassiter. You hand it over, I’ll take you to the corpse.”

“Don’t see as how yer in a position to argue!” growled Jayne, but Saffron simply smiled her cat-like smile.

“No crappy piece of military history, no stiff.” She stated.

“Fine!” Inara stepped forward sharply and leant under the table to where the Lassiter was taped. “Here you go!” She threw the gun at Saffron who reacted slowly and almost muffed the catch. “Watch it, the safety’s off, wouldn’t want it to blow up in your lovely hands, now would we?” Inara said icily.

“Right, you’ve got yer piece of gorram pretty, now take me to the Captain.” Zoë was cold and deadly. Saffron nodded and stood up. Wash eyed her suspiciously.

“I’m comin’ with you. I don’t trust this ruttin’ little murderess one bit… No sudden movements, now.”

Zoë nodded, for all her reserve, she was actually just too shocked to argue.

****

After Zoë, Wash and Saffron had set off, heading back to the bar and Jayne had gone to release the Doc and the Shepherd, Inara led Hat to her shuttle and began to make tea. Inara was surprised at the strength of her own sorrow. It was true, she had once certainly been in love with Mal, until she had given up those feelings (and not without some troublesome nights), when the strength of Hat and Mal’s passion for each other became evident, to her, at least and she did still loved him. But the nature of their existence out in the Black was such that one should be prepared for any person’s life, including one’s own, to be snuffed out candle-like at any moment. She had thought she would be ready, but now she felt all at sea. She was proud of her independence and liked to keep herself separate from the rest of the crew, but a world with no Mal, no Captain, was a world where suddenly no one was in control. She felt scared, terrified of the unknown future. Suddenly the glue that had held the crew together seemed to have come unstuck.

Her hand shook as she made the tea and the cups tinkled against each other. She glanced at Hat, who, if anything, was worrying her most. No one, having just been told that the father of her baby was dead, should be this calm. It wasn’t natural. Merciful Buddha! It wasn’t healthy. She took in the pale cheeks and the blank expression and wondered what one did for shock and where the hell Simon was.

Hat looked up at her as the cups chinked. “Inara, you ok? Here, let me.” She leant across to take a cup. She looked into Inara’s eyes, “I know you cared ‘bout him very much.”

Inara nodded and gulped, “Harriet, I’m so sorry,” she began, “its heart-breaking. I know how devastated you must be - it’s all right to be upset in front of me, you know.”

Hat looked at her again and this time there was a spot of red high up on each pale cheek and her eyes blazed, “Well, I ain’t. No how! I ain’t so much sad as down right angry! I’m so mad I could spit!”

Inara felt a calming influence was needed, “I know and I don’t blame you, Saffron is an evil . ..”

“Oh, I ain’t mad with Saffron,” said Hat. “She’s just doin’ what its in her nature to do… *Nee ta ma duh. Tyen-shia suo-yo duh run doh gai si*! I said not to go after her, didn’t I? I said it again and again. And did any of you listen? Did he listen? Did he, ruttin’ hell! Gorram it! If he weren’t already dead, I’d kill him my own self!” Then she seemed to realise what she’d said, sat down on Inara’s couch and burst into tears.

Inara breathed a sigh of relief and sat down gracefully next to her, holding out a silk handkerchief. Hat took it with a thankful smile through her tears and used it to emphasise her point, waiving it in the air. “I mean I ain’t stupid! I know that life is nasty, brutish an’ short out here in the Black. I weren’t really expecting we’d be growin’ old together sittin’ in our gorram rocking chairs on a shiny veranda on some border world. But I thought he might at least hang around long enough to see his own ruttin’ son! There’s things Mal junior is gonna need to be taught and I was expectin’ him to be the teacher. How to grow up to be a good man… not, you know, as gorram stupid as his father, but a man none the less…”

She sobbed as Inara rubbed her back comfortingly. Hat looked at her with lost, little-girl eyes, “I just ain’t awful sure what I’m supposed to do now. Mal’s supposed to be here to tell me!”

“I know, honey,” Inara was gentle but firm, “but he’s not and we all have to deal with living anyway.”

Hat gave a forlorn sigh, “I just ain’t so sure I can be bothered!”

***

Still trapped in the silent infirmary, Simon shuddered at the realisation that, as soon as he was let out, he’d have to tell River the news. Lord alone knew what her reaction would be. He just hoped to God someone else would tell Kaylee. Involuntarily, he half whispered to himself, “oh God! Kaylee, River!”

The Shepherd put a comforting hand on his arm. He was aware just how much the Captain’s death would affect the crew. For a man with avowedly no faith, he had certainly had the ability to engender faith in others, faith in him and his ability to look after them all. As a man of God, Book had to admire the man’s strength of character, the determination with which he had held on to his little crew with a grip like steel. Men like that never did last long, he reflected, either passing into legend, revered by their devotees as a martyr or, with their death, tearing down the elaborate constructions of faith founded on them and turning their followers into bitter and disillusioned cynics. He found himself praying that the news wouldn’t destroy the innate optimism of the sunny little mechanic or cause River to spiral deeper into her lonely psychosis.

He looked at Simon, searching for words to give comfort and assuage his grief, when the door was yanked open and Jayne stood on the threshold.

“Yer lunatic’s awake again.” He said, looking at Simon, “best see to her. Last thing we need is her brand a crazy.”

Book looked at the big man sympathetically, despite the offhand words, he seemed subdued. “I take it you’ve heard about the Captain, then?” he asked gently.

Jayne nodded, “that I have.” He looked at Simon again, “and you best be tellin’ yer sister, best way you know how, Doc. I’m gonna go find Kaylee, she’s a right to know, same as the rest a us…” He turned and headed up the stairs beside the infirmary.

Simon made his way, heavy hearted towards River’s room. To his surprise she was looking far more composed than, given her behaviour of a few hours ago, he could ever have imagined. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed drawing an intricate design. It looked like stylised horses running against a background of green.

“*Mei mei*,” Simon swallowed, it seemed harsh to break her peace so abruptly, to just blurt it out, as he was sure Jayne was now doing to Kaylee. He sat down softly next to his sister and took her hand, the one holding a pencil, uncurled the lead from her grasp and kissed her palm softly, “*mei mei*… I have something to tell you.”

River looked up into his face, so trustingly he thought his heart might break and smiled.

“I know all about the Captain,” she said and laughed.

***

Jayne headed up slowly to the engine room to find Kaylee. He refused to admit to himself that he was afraid of breaking such news to a girl. He was finding it hard, his own self, to deal with the news. He was a mercenary, gorram it, that’s what his kind did; live fast, die young. There weren’t nothing to get upset about there. But no Mal was something he hadn’t bargained for.

He wondered what Zoë would do. He simply assumed she’d be taking command. Would she want to keep him on? Most likely, with his reputation for trouble and his open antagonism towards her “little man”, she’d pay him off. Truth was, for all his moaning about the jobs and the pay, Serenity had been a far better situation than Jayne had ever hoped to find. He reckoned the general devotion to Mal among the crew had kept him alive a lot longer than would otherwise have been the case. So what that Mal had threatened to space him more’n once? Jayne respected, gorramit, he liked strong leadership and that’s what Mal had been, a tough leader, no pantywaist nancy-boy. Jayne had the sense to recognise that Mal had made some fine decisions over the past years, not ones Jayne agreed with or would ever have thought of making, but one’s that worked out well for the crew. It certainly wouldn’t be the same without him. It wasn’t as if he liked the man, but he’d been a comrade, someone to watch yer back in battle and a gorram reliable one too.

Regardless of their desperate situation, he could hear Kaylee before he even entered the engine room, humming tunelessly to herself as she bent over a complicated electrical array. Despite his usual tactlessness, he was not looking forward to destroying the mechanic’s light-hearted mood and in consequence his voice was gruff. “Kaylee.” He cleared his throat and tired again, “Kaylee!”

“Oh, hey Jayne!” she smiled as she looked up, but then, reading his expression, said quietly, “What is it, Jayne? Is it River?”

Jayne sighed, this was gonna be worse than he’d imagined. He gulped and tired for cheerful.

“Kaylee, ya missed all the fun! Saffron’s sneaked aboard and we had to roust her out, Zoë was in a killin’ mood!”

“Really?” Kaylee smiled, but once again the smile faded as she sensed Jayne was leaving something out. “What is it, Jayne? Tell me!”

“’Kay,” Jayne was blunt, but kind, “Kaylee, Saff told us something… She said the Captain’s dead…” He looked away, unable to watch her eyes as she heard the news.

“Oh!” was all she found to say, said quiet like, and then the tears welled up in her eyes. “Oohhh Jayne!” she sobbed and fell into the big man’s arms, crying softly into his T-shirt as he awkwardly patted her shoulder and smoothed her back. After a few minutes, she pushed herself gently away from Jayne’s embrace and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. The resolve and submission in her eyes were almost worse than her first rush of despair. Jayne ducked his head.

“Guess you’ll be wantin’ ta go see yer Doc now…”

“Yes,” she nodded, “but how’s Hat, Jayne? We all gotta be strong fer her now. Imagine!” Her eyes brimmed with tears again. “He was always lookin’ out for us, now we gotta look out for his family.”

***

From the tears leaking out from Kaylee’s eyes as she slid open his door, Simon presumed that Jayne had told her about the Captain. She slipped quietly in, unspeaking and came into his arms in a rush, before he could see further tears fall. He sat on his bed, holding her to him as though he could make it all right, when really, nothing could.

Kaylee sobbed in Simon’s arms, breathing in the scent of his clothing and him. Normally she loved the way he smelled, so fresh and clean, but right now it almost offended her. She would have given anything to be breathing in the scent of worn cotton shirts, earth, engine oil and the faintest hint of tobacco picked up in dingy bars. Those odours had the indefinable whiff of Mal, strong and resolute, a captain, a father. She’d not been 18 when she left home to serve as the mechanic on such a little, old ship, on the lovely Serenity. She’d been passed from the strong governance of a stern, but loving, father to the hands of an equally firm, but equally tender, Captain. She could remember each hiding she’d got from her daddy, whenever she played up; staying out too late or tumbling a boy. Mal’s tongue-lashings had served a similar purpose. She remembered so many tellings off:

“Ain't paying you to get your hair played at.”

“I cannot be having this from you right now.”

“Kaylee, I know you have or you'd've spoken up sooner, which by the by you should have.”

“What would you do in that rig? Flounce around the engine room? Be like a sheep walkin' on its hind legs.”

But that was how she functioned. She rebelled just enough to be shown that he still cared about her, was still watching out for her. She was still his little girl, to punish, but also to reward, to buy dresses and to tell her how well she’d done:

“You're still the best mechanic floating.”

It just wouldn’t be the same now. She’d really have to grow up and smartish, she realised that. She’d not be anyone’s little girl no more, no how. She was a woman and it was about time she started acting like one and being taken for one. Rubbing her tearful eyes against Simon’s shirt, she reached up and pulled his head down for a long, impassioned and comforting kiss.

***

Saffron entered the small room at the point of a gun. Zoë had to bend to get through the door behind her, closely followed by her husband, watching Saffron like a slightly fluffy hawk. Saffron nodded to the corpse lying face up on the floor and kicked it lightly with her foot.

“There you go, what did I tell you? Dead as a dachshund!” She said brutally.

Zoë looked down at the prone form of her Captain and experienced a moment of queasiness. He really was dead then. For a moment she had no idea what she should do. Wash was her present and her future, but Mal had been her past, her anchor, securing her to the present and the now, giving her roots and a history. Looking at the corpse she felt a lightening, an untethering as though she were coming loose from her moorings, being carried out to sea over uncharted depths and towards unexplored possibilities. Everything felt unfamiliar and peculiar. She felt seasick.

Wash, though ostensibly his attention fixed on Saffron, watched his wife out of the corner of his eye. He knew that, after a few days, he would grieve for Mal, who despite the differences in their character, had been a good man and a careful friend. But right now he could only feel pity and grief for the woman he loved who was, so obviously to his eyes, grieving terribly for her dead friend. His concern for the dead could wait; it was the living he needed to shelter and protect all he could now. He could only imagine how she felt, looking at the stiff and lifeless flesh that had been her commander and captain. Oh, on the outside, she looked all collected and tranquil, but he knew that below the surface she was in horrible pain. He also knew that, if he wanted to hang on to this beautiful and proud woman he loved so much, it would take all his tact and delicacy. Say the wrong thing now, a little voice was saying inside him, and you’ll lose her forever.

He opened his mouth to speak and say words that would, he hoped, comfort her, but before he could speak, before Zoë could bend down to gather the body to her, the eyes of the corpse snapped open and Mal struggled to sit up, smiling slightly, but weak from blood lost from a large bleeding wound to his arm. Zoë could do nothing but open her mouth and stare.

“Hey,” said the corpse, “YoSafBridge, next time you pronounce someone dead, check their gorram pulse, why dontcha? And I like dachshunds, all those tiny legs, what was the why involved in killin’ ‘em all off any how? Hey there, Zoë….”

Zoë continued to stare, “Something about them bein’ bred with a tendency to maul, as I recall,” she said dryly, her composure returning with a quirky, slightly shaky smile, “hey there, Sir, glad you ain’t dead.”

“I’m fair pleased about that my own self,” agreed Mal jovially. Wash heaved a sigh of unfeigned relief. The disaster that had threatened to engulf them all so suddenly made a noise like a hoop and rolled away. Unfortunately, caught in the moment, neither Mal, Wash nor Zoë were watching Saffron. Quick as a wink, she’d high kicked the gun out of Zoë’s hand and caught it up. Now it was trained on Wash. “Drop it!” Wash looked at Zoë who sighed and raised her hands resignedly. Wash dropped the gun swiftly to the floor and followed suit.

“Why the hell does this always happen to us, Zoë?” asked Mal.

“If you want to make the not being dead thing permanent, Mal, I suggest you shut the hell up.” Saffron was tense. She’d been shocked and more relieved than she’d ever care to admit to see Mal was alive.

Mal shrugged and also raised his hands. “Fair enough, though, as I recall, way you shoot, reckon one of us, probably you, Zo, or maybe Wash, in the corner there, ‘ud have a decent chance of comin’ out a here without a scratch! And after all, law of averages – you’ve already managed to pin me the once, I’m pretty confident you couldn’t do it twice.” He lifted up his arm to show where a bullet had ripped through his coat and shirt and had winged him heavily.

“*Nee mun doh bee-jway*! Now I’ll be taking the Lassiter and this here gun too,” Saffron bent down to pick up Wash’s discarded weapon, “and be going.” She smiled a tight little smile.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you as always, YoSafBridg!” Mal said with heavy sarcasm.

“Oh the pleasure was all mine, Captain Easy-Mark!” Saffron breathed. She bent down and, with one foot firmly on Mal’s chest to stop him rising, though he was still weak from loss of blood, she kissed him deeply on the mouth. The she turned, grinned at Zoë and Wash and ducked out the door.

Zoë looked implacably at Mal, “So I’m guessing that’s one of the things I shouldn’t be mentioning to Hat then?”

Mal had the grace to look slightly shifty. “Yup, reckon that’s so, that and, of course, the rumours of my untimely demise…”

“Ah!” said Zoë, “Think we might have a problem there, Sir.”

***

The entire crew had assembled in the cargo bay, no one wanting to be alone, all waiting for Wash and Zoë to return with the body. Only Hat sat a little away from the others, half way up the stairs not really concentrating, just staring into space. None of the others were speaking much. Now and again someone would remember something about Mal and reminisce, but on the whole it was all just too sad and painful. Only River seemed unaffected by the atmosphere. She was pirouetting gently around the bay, singing an old Earth-that-was nursery rhyme. Whenever the others stopped talking, to stare long and hard at their shoes or a patch of the cargo bay next to them, the strains of Bobby Shaftoe echoed eerily through the cavernous room.

“They should be back soon,” Book looked at the others.

“Reckon that’s so, not long now.” agreed Jayne.

“He’ll come back and marry me…” sang River.

“What’s that?” asked Simon, jumping at a noise and bouncing Kaylee’s head, which lay in his lap.

“Just a rat.” said Inara soothingly.

“He’s my love forevermore…”

“*Tzao-gao*! Will you shut the gorram hell up, Moonbrain?” growled Jayne.

“Well, if this isn’t the most melancholy crew I ever had the misfortune to lay eye’s on! What’s the matter, someone die?”

“Captain!” Kaylee’s head shot up from Simon’s lap in an instant. Mal walked calmly into the cargo bay, smirking amusedly, but looking weak and supported by Zoë and Wash. “We havin’ some kinda wake?” he asked.

Kylee threw herself across the bay towards him. But, eager as she was, she arrived at Mal’s side moments after Jayne who enfolded Mal, to Mal’s and indeed Jayne’s own surprise, in a hearty bear hug, clapping him on the back. Mal reeled, clutching his wounded arm as Jayne stood back, looking suddenly embarrassed by his unwonted display of emotion. “Ouch, Jayne, you *hwoon dahn*! You reckon Saff didn’t do a good enough job a tryin’ to kill me, so you’re givin’ her a hand?” asked Mal.

Jayne blushed and looked at the floor, “just glad she didn’t make a corpse a you, Mal.”

Kaylee used the opportunity to give Mal a gentler hug, “I so hoped as you weren’t dead, Cap.” He kissed the top of her head, all the while looking over her till he caught Hat’s eye. She was looking beady. He swallowed.

Meanwhile, the others crowded round. Inara smiling softly at him in relief and kissing his cheek, “welcome home, Mal!”; Simon standing back shyly, but grinning enormously on catching Mal’s eye; the Shepherd patting him on the back, “good to have you back, son!”; River, still dancing strangely, “I knew you weren’t dead. Don’t know why everyone’s making a fuss.”

Mal disentangled himself form Kaylee’s embrace and walked towards Hat, who had remained silent, standing at the bottom of the stairs. “So here’s a funny thing. I ain’t as dead as you all thought…” He grinned at her sheepishly and rather apologetically.

Hat’s face showed no emotion, so he wasn’t at all prepared for what came next. Her fist shot out and punched him heavily in his wounded arm.

“*Liou koe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh bun ur-tze*! That gorram hurt! What d’you do that for?” Mal’s eyes watered slightly.

“To remind you that you ain’t never EVER doin’ anything like that to me again, Malcolm Lazarus Reynolds!” Book grinned at the biblical reference that he was pretty sure only he and Mal would get.

Mal continued to look at Hat in a hurt fashion. “Well, I ain’t likely to forget that punch in a hurry, woman. I ask you, is that anyway to greet your returnin’ hero?”

Hat looked up at him, standing close, her eyes filling with tears and her bottom lip wobbling. “*Lao tyen*! She said you were dead,” she said accusingly, and then more softly, “I thought I’d lost you…”

Mal reached out and pulled her into a firm embrace, wincing as his hurt arm wrapped around her. “I ain’t never leavin’ you, *dong ma*? I can’t promise you I’ll always come back, mayhap sometime I won’t, but I’ll have to be real good and dead first, get me?” As an afterthought he added, “and they better think about buryin’ me nice and deep!”

Hat nodded against his chest and hugged him all the tighter.

“Well,” Book coughed and turned to the others, “I’m thinking we’re all a little over-wrought,” he glanced at Jayne who was sniffling and Kaylee, bouncing on her toes as she hugged Simon. “How’s about we move upstairs and have a soothing cup of tea?”

“With wood alcohol?” asked Jayne, looking hopeful.

Kaylee grinned, “Jayne’s right! This definitely calls for a celebration, I’ll get my moonshine.”

Inara looked up, “and I’ve got a bottle of whiskey I was saving for a special occasion. I think this counts.” She smiled fondly at Mal and Hat, still wrapped closely together.

“I think I better patch up the Captain first,” Simon suggested, “but you guys go on up, we’ll join you when we’re done.”

***

As it turned out, everyone decided they’d come along to watch the Captain get stitched up. Just didn’t seem fair to start celebrating without the guest of honour. Mal lay on the infirmary couch, with Hat, clearly a permanent attachment, at his side, whist Simon stripped off his tattered shirt and poked around his arm. The others draped themselves in the doorway or sat and leaned against the units.

Simon looked up, “well, the good news is, the bullet went straight though and didn’t hit the bone. The rather less good news is it tore through the upper section of your brachial artery. That’s why you lost such a lot of blood and why you’re feeling pretty groggy right now…”

“Hey,” Mal raised his other hand feebly in surrender, “ain’t gonna argue with you, Doc!”

“Anyway, I’ll have to repair it and then you need a transfusion and a substantial amount of rest.” Mal nodded as Simon injected him swiftly in the arm. A look of contentment passed slowly over Mal’s face and he shut his eyes. Still with his eyes closed he said, “so, to sum up this latest very not smooth caper, not only have I been shot AGAIN, but, one, we ain’t got the Lassiter; two, we ain’t got any money for the Lassiter; and three, I ain’t got no divorce! Well, I take full responsibility for this pile a *niou-se*. Sorry crew!”

“Succinct as that shiny little summary was, *bao bay*, it ain’t exactly right,” Hat put in sweetly from his elbow.

Mal’s eyes snapped open, “hunh?” Hat, Inara and Zoë were exchanging smugly satisfied little glances. “Ok, ladies, what isn’t WoS tellin’ me?”

Hat smiled an infuriatingly self-satisfied smile. “Well, when ‘Nara met Durran Haymer…”

“He gave me,” Inara took over the story, “a long distance tracking device, very small…”

“Tiny in fact,” put in Zoë, “real state a the art, quality merchandise.”

“Anyway,” went on Inara, “when we re-hid the Lassiter, I attached the tracer to it and when Saffron demanded the thing with menaces, I was the one that handed it over to her. And I just had time to switch on the tracer too, how about that?”

Zoë smiled wickedly, “how about that! I’d say there weren’t much chance at all that either our Saffron or that gun are still at liberty right now.”

Hat grinned back at her. “Reckon as how they probably both have pride a place in Mr Haymer’s little museum of has-beens.”

Mal grinned proudly at the three women. “Ah! Revenge ain’t half a shiny thing! You three’ve been mighty sneaky and mighty busy, I must say!”

“That ain’t all, neither,” went on Hat.

“I was given to understand by Mr Haymer,” explained Inara, “that there’s a not insignificant reward for the return of the Lassiter. He knows I’m the only one who could have put the tracer on the gun… To tell the truth, I’m expecting a sizeable token of Durran’s regard to appear in my account at any moment.”

“Well, that’s two out of three, I guess,” sighed Mal.

“*Lao tyen yeh*! Is anyone else worried by the obvious evidence of the deviousness of our womenfolk?” asked Wash, “I for one ain’t gonna be sleeping soundly in my bed after this!”

“Oh yer gonna sleep soundly enough, husband.” said Zoë with a promise in her eyes. Wash raised his eyebrows in amused yet eager response.

“Yeah, well, I reckon you should put a stop to this *go se* right now, Cap,” said Jayne, “these women a got me all manner a nervous.”

“And that’ s just as it should be!” Inara gave Jayne a smouldering look that seemed to make him even more uncomfortable, or at least twitchy.

“I’ll be in my bunk!” he said and exited promptly.

Harriet looked at Mal, lightly touching his good arm to get his attention. “Mal, I’m gonna give you a little gift for free now, just ‘cos I love you, *dong ma*?”

He nodded and looked intrigued, “you got me a divorce too, miracle worker?” he asked.

Hat smirked fondly, “nah! I like that yer married to a homicidal sneak thief.” She leant in to kiss him tenderly on the lips, stroking his cheek. “But there’s a lesson to be learnt form this luckless caper and its this: You and I, Malcolm Reynolds, are already as wed as we’ll ever be. I laugh when you laugh, I hurt when you hurt and I cry gorram buckets when I think yer dead. Don’t take no ring or ruttin’ marriage service to make it proper. We’re way more married that you and Saffron’d ever be and I like it just fine thanks. Don’t fix on bein’ a widow any time soon though, if’n yer agreeable.”

Mal looked at her sheepishly and a might foolishly, “so I just got shot for nothin’?”

Hat grinned mischievously. “Yer could say that. I couldn’t possibly comment.”

Mal felt suddenly exhausted, he lay heavily back on the infirmary bed. “Well,” he sighed, his eyes closing in spite of himself, “I guess all’s well as ends without any a us bein' a corpse!” And with that, he fell asleep.

COMMENTS

Tuesday, April 26, 2005 5:46 PM

AMDOBELL


Oh yeah, this was super shiny! Loved it to little gorram bits and I especially liked how Hat didn't think she and Mal could be any more married. Nice touch having YoSaffBridget part of Haymer's collection along with that *goushi* Lassiter. Yup, mighty fine fic! Ali D :~)
You can't take the sky from me


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