A Not-So-Shiny Christmas – Part I

By Kayleegirl

1 “Ta ma de.” Malcolm Reynolds was not a happy captain and hadn’t been for quite some time. All he had left was eking a living on the raggedy edge of space. But if he could navigate the vasty black between worlds with halfway decent speed, haul cargo and keep his motley crew together, he would be content. All told, content was as happy as he ever expected he would be for the last lesser part of his life. At this moment Serenity was at least hauling cargo -- of a sort he and the rest of the crew would breathe easier without, but so be it. However, due to some part or other Kaylee had been on him to replace having decided to give up the ghost at this most inopportune moment, it looked like the better-late-than-never timing in the delivery of the goods to Three Hills was much closer to the never part. Turn their speed up half a notch and they’d all be half a notch away from becoming permanent interstellar drift. But that was just half the problem. He was also one short on crew as of recent days. Truth be told, in the while she’d been onboard he’d never really counted Inara as part of the crew. Maybe, he reflected darkly, that had been the reason – part of it anyway – that she’d left. Not that her being there would make any difference to what was currently going on in Serenity’s engine room. Another nasty warning buzzer began caterwauling the very second he managed to silence the one previous. “Jing-tzang mei yong-duh!” Mal brought his foot back for a kick, then aborted it when Kaylee tucked herself twixt him and the engine. “Don’t you talk to Serenity that way. She ain’t useless. All she needs is a little tender care. Ain’t her fault she’s running less than shiny.” “Case you hadn’t noticed, little Kaylee, the only thing seems to be working right is this gorramn array of warning lights that have set their collective selves on blinking like some short-circuiting parlor tree from Christmas past.” “They are kinda festive – if it wasn’t for the awful noise. And the reason for them making the noise, of course.” It was difficult for Mal to keep up a good angry with his mechanic’s ever-hopeful, big brown eyes shining up at him. Kaylee patted her beloved jury-rigged engine with one hand. “She’ll get us to Three Hills safe and sound, you’ll see.” I’ll see what? That with repairs and refueling, the trip’s cost us more than our profit? Kaylee’s optimism was probably the only thing holding most of Serenity together these days. The realization that he couldn’t provide better for either of them brought him back to boiling. Mal pulled himself tall as possible and pressed forward till he loomed tall over both his mechanic and her precious engine. “Problem’s not if we get there but when. Planting season on Three Hills is near done. We get there much later, interest in our cargo and the selling price’ll take a considerable dip we can’t afford. That happens and next time we get to a junkyard we won’t be buying replacement parts, will be selling Serenity for parts.” He might as well have shot her dog or her or, worse, her precious engine. “That’s not fair. Serenity’s last replacement parts were older than my Grampa when we got em from that junkyard on Persephone. They’ve been patched up twice over since then.” Kaylee’s sorrowful face made Mal groan inwardly. Outwardly he frowned so hard, he had her backing up and spreading her arms protectively along the bank of blinking control panels. “But I can patch em again. You know what they say, captain. Third time’s the trick.” Mal backed off a step because Kaylee’s bottom lip was starting to tremble, but mostly because he didn’t have the energy or the heart to say anymore. “Just get her there as close to on time as you can.” Or we may never get her flying again, mei mei. Kaylee gave him a short, silent yes-sir nod. He could almost feel her swallow back the beginning of tears – which was good, he told himself. Crying was the last step to angry, and angry for his ship’s mechanic meant she’d be more determined than ever to show him he was wrong about Serenity. Just maybe, they would deliver the goods on time. If Kaylee had yet another miracle up her sleeve. Mal walked past her and out, then down along the catwalk to midway over the cargo bay. A rapid-fire glurping rose up from the odoriferous tanks snugged down below. Hidden for a moment by a pocket of deep shadow, Mal let his shoulders hunch forward and rubbed a hand across his face. Then he straightened up and headed toward the bridge. Jayne crossed his path coming up the forward stairs. The bulk of the man entirely blocked Mal’s path. For some reason Jayne had his yellow hat in hand, which had been knitted for him by his mother. Hard to believe any woman could give birth to someone whose biceps had grown big enough that most people’s thighs looked small in comparison. The man sometimes looked doomed to get stuck in the doorway coming out of his quarters, but so far that was only a wishful fancy. Especially wishful on days like today. “Must be some way we can cover them vats up tighter so’s the stink don’t get out.” “It’s fertilizer. Fish crap. Manure. We cover it up tight enough to stop the smell and you know what we’ve got?” “Happier noses?” “Methane sealed up in a small space. Gets to wanting out real bad after awhile. Makes a mighty explosion. I want you to think on that before you speak any more foolishness.” Jayne picked at a loose thread in his hat while he pondered. He pulled it and the hat began unraveling. He tugged harder and soon half an ear flap had disappeared. Wrapping the curly yellow yarn around one finger, he said, “Well, it don’t seem safe all unsealed like that either. All that hissing and belching going on?” Mal spread his arms turning his hands palms up in the air and waited. He could almost see the thoughts as they unraveled in the big man’s eyes. After a few more tugs at the yarn, Jayne leaned in closer and whispered, “Sounds like it’s alive or somethin.” The big gun on Jayne’s back shifted on its strap. “What are you planning to do,” Mal said, “shoot it?” Jayne straightened up and changed his usual glare to his usual unnerving grin. “No. I draw the line at taking part in a crap shoot.” When Mal walked onto the bridge, his hands were still spread wide in the air. He knew that balancing out Jayne’s peculiar perspective with the rest of the world’s was about as likely as their current job going as planned, but he couldn’t quite stop himself from trying. “Captain?” Zoe asked, polite but indifferent. She didn’t move one long, lean muscle out of place. It would ruin the comfort of having her husband’s arm snuggled just right around her hips as she stood next to him at the helm. While she was always ready to jump into action, she did so only if absolutely necessary. Which was necessary all too often of late. And the opportunity to snuggle with her man was an altogether too rare occurrence. “Jayne wants to blow us all to kingdom come.” “We should tell Shepherd Book. Man of god might welcome that kind of news,” she replied. “Yes, it might make a good Christmas present for him,” Wash agreed. Still holding her tight, he made a few adjustments to the navigation controls. Then with a sudden snap of the head he turned to look up at her. “Honey, what are we giving him for Christmas? Will we have time to shop on Three Hills? Of course, we don’t have any money.” Wash turned full around to face Mal, somehow managing to shift arms without them ever losing contact with Zoe. Mal played innocent. “Seems to me you both got paid already. Last year sometime? ” “Ah, memories.” Wash turned his gaze back to his wife. “Honey, would it be wrong of me to steal something for a gift to give to the preacher man?” Zoe placed a hand on each side of Wash’s upturned face, the press of her palms gentle as a kiss. “Don’t worry, dear, it won’t come to that. I hear there’s a lucrative slave trade down on Three Hills. Captain’s not bad looking, got a few good years left. I’m sure he’ll bring us a good price.” They were following the usual steps in the dance, the comforting humor buffering the inevitable crash back down to reality. Wash focused his attention on the helm readouts as Zoe slipped away and stepped to Mal’s side, suddenly all business. “How are things holding together?” “Kaylee’s doing her best.” “That’s always been good enough before, sir.” “When did good enough get to be forever? “ Mal shook his head for a never-mind, then nodded agreement to her last statement. “Nothing more I can do right now. You need me, I’ll be in my quarters.”

Back in the engine room, Kaylee was hard at work, talking out loud to reassure Serenity every step of the way, and wishing she could fix things for her captain as easily as she could for his ship. “Don’t you worry. The captain didn’t mean all that. He’s just a bit grumpier than usual cause he’s missing Inara – which is not to say that it ain’t his fault letting her go in the first place. Got no reason taking it out on you, though.” Her head remained hidden inside an open deck panel as her hand appeared for a moment to shake a lethal looking wrench in the general direction of the bridge. “He’s the one needs a little tender care, you ask me. Warning lights lit up like a tree from… Kaylee’s head popped up like a piston. “…Christmas past!” The face-splitting grin she wore would have worried Mal had he been there to see it. She sat back on her heels to consider. First things first. She worked in silence for the next hour, bit by bit her deft touch coaxing Serenity’s engine toward a more reasonable rumble. The pleasure of feeling her way to a new solution for the puzzle of the wires and pieces helped her to think through her plans for Malcolm Reynolds. Running at prime speed, the trip to Three Hills would have just about given her enough time to see it through start to finish. Going slightly slower than that -- as they would be -- gave her plenty.

2

It was too early for dinner, but the amount of voices Zoe heard coming from the galley indicated that most, if not all the crew, was gathered around the dining table already. Kaylee’s voice was the loudest, so Zoe changed her plans to check the engine room and headed in. The minute her foot reached the threshold, the room fell to dead silence. She raised an eyebrow, waited a beat and then asked, “Somebody want to tell me what’s going on?” Kaylee, Simon, River, Shepherd Book, and Jayne stared at her. All of them had guilty-as-sin looks frozen on their faces – even the shepherd. Zoe stared back, which usually did the trick, but this time nobody seemed inclined to break the silence. Jayne looked down at his hands, a scraggly ball of yellow yarn in one and half a hat in the other. He might be on the verge of cracking, but she didn’t have much patience today. “Guess I’ll have to call the captain then, see if he can –“ “No! Not the captain!” Kaylee rushed forward and dragged Zoe into the room by one arm. “It’s got to be a surprise.” Everyone started talking at her then except for River who clamped her hands over her ears. Zoe sympathized. Kaylee was babbling about colored warning lights, keeping it simple, and insisting that with a little green paint it – whatever it was – would be beautiful. Jayne was grumbling, “Don’t see how” but it was unclear if he was responding to Kaylee or to Simon’s tentative “If we’re to succeed in keeping it secret….” Book put in, “We could keep it in my cabin. He certainly never goes in there.” “Three wise men, but we’ve only got two.” River’s shouted non-sequitur put a stop to the flood of chatter. “Jayne doesn’t count,” she added as if that should explain everything. “Oh, now, what kind of crack was that?” Jayne rounded on her but Book held him back. River seemed already to have forgotten her outburst. Into the brief quiet, Zoe said, “I could try asking again or pretend I didn’t stop in here and just go back to the bridge.” “Don’t go,” Kaylee pleaded. “We’re gonna need your help keeping the captain busy.” “Why?” “So he won’t see it till we get it…made and the decorating done.” Kaylee could see Zoe was losing patience, but she felt it best to work up to the idea like she had with the others. “You seen how he’s been so restless and, I don’t know, sorta…” “Stupid?” Jayne grunted. “No. Sad! Specially since Inara….” Kaylee stopped short. As if saying it out loud would make the fact of Inara’s leaving any worse than it was. She scrunched up her face and continued, “He needs a little cheering up. Mentioned something about Christmas past while he was helping with the repairs and I thought—“ Simon stepped forward in support. “We all thought—“ “Hell, she wants to make a gorram Christmas tree out of one of her umbrellas. What kind of a gos se idea is that?” Jayne said cutting him off. Kaylee wasn’t the only one who glared at him. Book broke the tension and in his quiet way, got them back on track. “It’s a wonderful idea. I’m only ashamed I didn’t think of it myself. Seems to me we’re all in need of a little celebration.” Jayne rolled his eyes. “Right. What we all need is to join hands, sing ahroo-dor-ay round a green umbrella, and all what ails us’ll up and disappear. What Mal needs is some more of what he got back at the Heart of Gold. Well, what I got plenty of, least ways.” Book’s Buddha-like smile turned sour as he shot a look over at Jayne. “Kaylee, I’m sure the tree will look lovely once it’s done.” “I hope so.” “I don’t know when River last saw a decorated tree nor had a Christmas.” Simon studied his sister as she walked purposefully along the line of supply cabinets, pressing her cheek to each one as if listening for a voice or a heartbeat. He shut out the others’ troubled expressions as they contemplated River’s trance-like wanderings. Maybe the memory of the glitter and glow from some happier yuletide would help light River’s way a bit farther out of her darkness. “Whatever I can do to be of help, just ask,” he said turning to Kaylee. “It’ll just be a little tree. Not much,” she said. Her smile made Simon forget even his sister for a heartbeat. “Maybe we can set the manure on fire ‘stead of a Yule log and the doc can figure a way to carve chopsticks into mistletoe with some of his glitzy scalpels,” Jayne said. He threw down the mess of yellow yarn that used to be his hat, accidentally rapping his knuckles hard on the edge of the table. “Ta ma duh….!” “Wouldn’t mind some mistletoe,” Zoe said. “Count me in” “I’ll help all I can,” Book said. “What do we need to make this happen?” “Don’t need much. Got the lights. We need some kinda stand for the umbrella.” Kaylee’s pre-emptive frown at Jayne wasn’t needed. Due to him still sucking on his bruised knuckles, he missed his chance. She went on with her list quickly, just in case. “A star for the top maybe. Oh, and some ornaments!” “River and I can make some.” “Wash and I can come up with a few.” “Oh, gee,” Jayne said, “can I make one too? Then we’ll each take turns putting em on the tree and have flashbacks about dancing sugar plum fairies slidin up and down giant candy canes.” He held his hands up on either side of his head and wiggled his fingers, making doodly-doodly sound effects. He stopped abruptly as a typical Jayne thought jumped off his tongue. “Sounds sorta like an early wet dream when you think about it. What? No one else’s thinking the same thing?” Book simply turned his back on the man and said to Kaylee, “I’ve got something might work for the stand.” He and the rest started hammering out more of the details, ignoring Jayne as he scooped up his yarn and stormed off to his bunk. Mal woke up with a start. Not surprisingly, he’d fallen asleep as soon as he’d hit the bunk. These days he hadn’t been sleeping well, so he’d avoided sleeping at all until he was forced to from sheer exhaustion. Then he’d fall deep, sleep like a baby or like the dead, without dreams. He knew he should have undressed before he sat down. As far as he’d gotten was pulling off his boots. His neck was stiff from lying in one position without moving for hours. His throat was dry but the pillow, which he was still hugging to the side of head, was damp with drool. Surely a wonder some beautiful young woman hasn’t snapped you up for her very own. Mal rolled, pushed himself out of bed to his feet, and began working the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. Then the reason he woke up penetrated his consciousness: the ship was much too quiet. Not Serenity, or any transport ship, was ever this quiet. The clangs, rattles, hums and thrums he heard were the normal background noises. There was nothing in the foreground though – no footsteps on the gangways, no whining from Jayne, no laughter or shouts or arguments like there should have been. He tucked in a shirt tail and stumbled over a boot on his hasty way to the intercom. “Zoe, what’s going on?” Seconds dragged in silence as he pulled on the one boot and scanned his small patch of floor for the other. “Zoe!” “Sir. You’d better come up here. Something peculiar in the galley.” His first mate didn’t sound upset, but then she rarely did. Even during the worst of the fighting in Serenity Valley, Zoe had kept her cool. “Define peculiar.” Mal spied the other boot under his bunk, but his gun and holster were closer. He strapped them on waiting for an answer. The answer was a long time coming. Not a good sign. “Best you see for yourself, sir.” “Zoe?” One boot on and one in his hand, he climbed up the ladder and into the foredeck hall. Nothing and no one as far as he could see either direction. The continuing quiet was very definitely weighing on his nerves. Not only was there not enough noise, it seemed too dark on the way over toward the bridge. He couldn’t quite set his mind on the why of that, but he didn’t want to take the time to suss it out. Quick as he could he tugged on his other boot, then drew his pistol.

3

He moved as fast as could while checking every nook and cranny along the way. He could see the dining room door was open before he got there. And as he got closer, he saw Kaylee, Simon, the shepherd, and Zoe standing shoulder to shoulder at the end of the table. “Hi, captain!” “Hello, captain.” “Good evening, Captain Reynolds.” “Sir.” Yep. Something peculiar going on. “Someone want to explain why the four of you are stuck together like Siamese quadruplets?” “Just…waitin’ to greet you, sir.” Zoe’s reassurance…wasn’t. “Don’t mind my asking, but is there some stowaway waiting to greet me just inside the door, big gun pointed at my head, or the like?” “Nothin’ of the sort, sir. Cross my heart and hope to die peaceful in my man’s bed.” “Come on in captain. Ain’t nothing gonna bite!” Kaylee seemed her normal bright and cheery self, but Mal wasn’t ready to holster his pistol just yet. He did take the last step up to the threshold. As he did, the four of them parted to either side and he was temporarily blinded by an unexpected flash of light. “Surprise!” River popped up from beneath the table where she’d been waiting to plug in the lights that normally hung over the door to Kaylee’s room. They were strung around a half-open paper parasol still dripping green paint. It was stood up by the handle in a square tea tin in the middle of the table. Origami frogs, birds, and houses were pinned on here and there. It was the most lopsided, pathetic, and wonderful excuse for a Christmas tree he’d ever seen. It wasn’t showing on his face yet, but he could feel the powerful urge to tear up. He couldn’t think on how to stop that except by making some disagreeable remark. Which he didn’t want to, seeing how Kaylee’s glee was contagious and every one of them had big sloppy grins on their faces. “Not much of a Christmas tree, is it?” Saved by the Jayne. Mal could safely turn away now. He glared at Jayne, twisting his pistol slightly to glint in the light, before putting it away. “People are always misunderstandin.” Jayne pushed past him and walked toward the table. Digging out a metal clamp from his pocket, he used it to attach a homemade star to the top of the parasol. “There. Now it’s a tree.” The flat four-pointed star was wrapped tightly round, every inch of it, with yellow and orange yarn. It was far too big in comparison to the rest of the ornaments and the weight of the clamp made the parasol tilt to one side. In this case, it was very much the thought that counted. Kaylee ran a hand down one of Jayne’s arms. “It’s real nice.” Zoe exchanged a look with Mal. It was good to see a smile on his face again, even for a second. Even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Planet fall in fifteen minutes, everyone,” Wash announced over speakers. “Looks like we’ll have to save the eggnog toasts for later,” Mal said by way of a thank you. And regretted mentioning any type of food as he stepped back into the hall. “I’m sure it’ll be big present to everyone getting this cargo unloaded.” “Eggnog! Wonder if we can get some eggs on Three Hills?’ Kaylee said on her way back toward the engine room. “What’s in the nog part of it though?” “One cup sugar, half teaspoon salt, one quart light cream, one cup rum,” River recited as she trailed after Simon, who was following Kaylee. “That’s if you use half a dozen eggs. Otherwise, calculate equivalent measurements according to variations in avian product portions.” “I’ll pitch in for the rum part,” Jayne called out after them. Shepherd Book was the only one remaining in the dining area. He quietly contemplated their handiwork still alight on the table. “I wonder if we may not have been thinking a little too small.”