Okay... my first piece for quite some time. Firefly, again.
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Mal sits astride the horse, comfortable in the saddle even in this mad dash, and gallops towards Serenity. He can’t see her, but he knows the general direction, and Zoe and Jayne don’t seem to be arguing.
Just get a little closer, and she’ll be there. The wind in his face smells dusty, with just a tang of the fuel-and-grease smell that is the hallmark of rim ships. Like his. She’s not far away.
They reach the outcropping of rock where Wash landed the ship, and reign in the horses. Jayne and Zoe dismount and run aboard, not looking back—but Mal still can’t see Serenity, though somehow he can smell her.
He hears the ramp start to move, and urges his horse forward, thinking (illogically, and somehow he knows that this is wrong, though not why) to ride aboard: but the horse simply gallops on, over empty grassland. He shouts—No!—and…
…woke, mouth open in a scream he hoped was silent, body drenched in sweat and shaking.
Sitting up, he reached for the closest wall, feeling the hum of the engine reverberate through the ship, reminding himself that Serenity was still flying. Strange how the shaking in his own body was alien and uncomfortable, but the vibrations in Serenity were reassuring.
A few doors away, River screamed, and the sound seemed to echo in his head until he thought he might join her. //That’s enough, Malcolm Reynolds, he told himself firmly. That’s how people go crazy out her. Alone, and dreaming. I have a ship, a crew, and a job to do.
//Okay, so actually, we don’t have a job at the moment, unless you count Inara’s. And according to Kaylee, the ship’s falling apart..//
He forced himself to sit up and swing his legs out into the chill air of the room. //I still have a crew. Time to go and bother someone.//
At first, Mal thought he’d go and talk to Zoe, he knew she’d understand that he didn’t want to be alone, but when he found that she and Wash were locked in their room and—well, there were noises. He could guess what sort of thing was going on, and he really didn’t want to face his second in command if he disrupted them.
Even the most loyal crew member had limits—had to have, really.
So. Two crew members down (Mal quickly shut off the mental image that phrase produced), six to choose from. Well, five, if you took into account River’s not-quite-there status.
He wasn’t going to Book. Once, that might have been his ideal choice, but now—no. Religion didn’t help at a time like this.
Not Jayne, either. Jayne wasn’t exactly the sort to go to when what you wanted was company and not a murder.
Inara might not mind; but she might. And if she decided to make a fuss and embarrass him in front of the rest, she’d do it properly and he’d never quite live it down. Mal walked past the door to her shuttle.
He looked in at Kaylee—she’d left her door open—but she was sprawled, fully dressed, across the bed, sound asleep. She looked so peaceful that he couldn’t bring himself to wake her.
//Which leaves Simon,// Mal reflected. Deliberately, he headed for the common area instead of Simon’s room, trying to tell himself he was looking for another distraction but he’d forgotten that the infirmary was only around the corner.
“River?” Simon called, hearing noises outside. Footsteps on the metal gangway, and Mal suddenly found himself face to face with the worried doctor.
“Just me,” Mal said, taking a step back (how they’d got so close to start with, he wasn’t quite sure) and spreading his hands in an instinctive urge to be non-threatening.
“Ah. Were you looking for me, captain?”
“No, not really.” Mal glanced round, as if there might be something creeping up on him. “Just making sure things were okay.”
“Ah,” Simon nodded, and then added, “I couldn’t sleep, either.”
//Is it really that obvious why I’m here?// Mal wondered. //Better change the subject and think of something to do.// “You sound worried about your sister.” Blatant, and Mal wasn’t sure it would work, but Simon would always talk about River.
“She was yelling in her sleep about ten minutes ago. And these days she tends to be the first thing I think of when I hear noises I’m not expecting.”
“Understandable.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment, neither quite sure what to say. Mal tried to conjure up a desire to drink the cold tea that was sitting on the stove.
“Well,” Simon said, eventually, “I guess I should try and get some sleep.”
“If you like,” Mal replied, turning away, starting to hunt for a mug. “No point trying to force yourself, though.”
“True.” Simon took a couple of steps towards Mal and managed to meet his eyes again. “And if I’ve got company…”
“Didn’t say I’d stay.” It was a routine protest; there was a relief in Mal’s eyes that betrayed the calm in his voice.
“I was re-organising the drug cabinet.” Simon waved a hand vaguely towards the infirmary.
“Don’t let me stop you,” Mal said, pulling a mug from one of the cabinets and filling it with cold tea from the pot.
“Okay.” Unsure of what would happen, Simon started to walk up the steps that lead round to the infirmary. He was a little surprised to hear Mal follow him.
Mal sat on the bench, while Simon returned to his work, taking the bottles, boxes, and jars out, checking their labels and contents and then returning them to subtly different places.
“You really putting those in an order, or just where they fit neatest?” Mal asked, watching Simon work.
“Alphabetical order by chemical name,” Simon replied. “It helps when I need to find something in a hurry. And I’m checking how much there is of each thing, so that I know what’s most urgent to buy next time I get a chance.”
“All that, stored in your head?”