Many years ago…

“Excuse me ma’am, I was a wonderin’ if this here holster was also marked down?” A younger version of Mal grinned widely at the elderly woman behind the dusty counter, attempting to be friendly. She glanced over at him and gave a disrespectful twist of her head. “What you think you needs that fer, youngin’?” Slowly she shifted her old body so she could get a good look at the young man. All she needed was a glance and her old age and experience told her all she needed to know. “You fix on a doin’ whats in your head young man, and yours life wiln’t be the same from heres on out.” Mal straightened himself in silent defiance of her curt remark. “Just asked a simple question, that’s all ma’am. If’n you not willing to sell, I’s can spend my time better elsewhere.” His eyes held the hard look of a seasoned man who had seen too many horrible things during a lifetime. The old woman recognized that hard glint in his eyes. She had seen it in the look of her husband before he had gone crazy and killed himself. Many of the men in the village had changed ever since the Alliance had gotten it in their heads to start squeezing the border planets until they simply broke. “Listen up young man. Theres a many would like a fancy holster to keep their piece in, think it gives them all the right in the world to do as they please, acting all tough and mighty. But it don’t mean a gorram thing. If you can’t wield the anger inside of you, and control it, then having a fancy holster ain’t gonna give you that edge to pretend that you’re a big boy now, and can play grown-up games.” Her eyes were hard as flint, and for once in Mal’s life he found himself not able to hold his gaze with hers. “You gotta think real hard on what decisions you gonna make, or else it doesn’t mean a gorramit thing. Dong ma?” The sudden burst of conviction from the old woman suddenly exhausted her, and she had to sit back down on her old stool. Mal stared hard at the ground, thousands of thoughts swirling around in his head. He glanced sideways at the holster, and new that it was well crafted. A lot of thought and patience had gone into making it. “Is it marked down, ma’am?” He quietly asked. A silent understanding passed between the two of them. The old woman smiled gently, which was a rare gift in and of itself. “Yes ‘um, its basically a steal. Wouldn’t give a poor old woman like me enough to live off of for a week.” Mal slowly reached out and gingerly touched the cool leather. Slowly he traced his fingers down the edge of the cradle for the gun. He closed his eyes and memories of growing up on the ranch flooded his mind. Mal could almost smell the leather, and as he slowly gripped the belt to pick it up, he could feel the thought that had gone into craft something so simple and yet so elegant. “Best not ta have ya stave, ma’am.” He gently laid down credit for the belt and walked out of the store. A middle aged man stepped out from behind a tattered and moth ridden curtain. “Did we have us a customer ma?” The old woman turned to eye her son. “More of a man than you’ll ever be.” She harshly snapped then turned back to her counter and proceeded to count the credits that Mal had generously laid down. She looked up and gazed out through the dusty store windows. Yes, that man would be a force to reckon with when the time was right.

Present…

Mal was in a place that he rarely had to visit within himself. As he surveyed the cargo bay, his fingers gently brushed the top of his worn and cracked holster. It was the one object in this life that kept him grounded. “Simon, get your med kit and patch them up.” Mal’s voice was soft and yet deadly. Simon looked up from kneeling over Jayne, and silently nodded his agreement. He quickly stood and ran back to the infirmary to collect the appropriate tools. Mal gave a glance at Jayne, who’s face was deadly pale from the loss of blood, but turned towards the two men in the Alliance uniforms. The larger of the two stood gun still drawn and aimed towards the crew, while the other man had dropped his gun and was kneeling besides the body of Asha. Mal stared at the other man and after a few tense seconds the gun was lowered. Calmly, slowly and deliberately Mal walked over to stand above Asha. He slowly swept his gaze over her body, and caught the small, shallow rise and fall of her chest. Mal’s hand suddenly gripped the holster, and he turned as he heard the hard footfalls of Simon returning. “Doc, you start here.” Mal started hard at Simon. “Sir, what about Jayne? He’s a bleeding something fierce.” Zoe wasn’t going to stand for an Alliance bully to get medical help above a person, while extremely irritating, who was a part of the crew – her crew. Zoe felt just as much ownership to Serenity and its crew as Mal, but she rarely let herself acknowledge that fact. “Doc, you start here.” Mal’s voice was full of cold steel. Simon didn’t move from his position next to Jayne. “No.” Simon had overheard the conversation that had led up to Jayne’s belligerent act, and there wasn’t any way he wanted to work on Alliance intelligence. He knelt down besides Jayne and opened up his med kit. His body froze at the sound of two short clicks. He slowly looked up and his stomach churned as he saw two guns pointed at him.