Title: Black Days: Mal Author: CharlieBZ Summary: Mal works to find a job. Rating: PG for language Characters: Mal, Crew Pairing: Canon, if any Spoilers/Timeline: post BDM Disclaimer: No money is being made from by me and I certainly don’t own Firefly/Serenity. Author's Note: This fic takes is part of a continuing series. If you’re a little lost see my blog entry here. Many thanks to gilliebeans at LiveJournal for all her help.

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Black Days: Simon

Black Days: Zoe

Black Days: Kaylee

Black Days: Mal

Everyone had become accustomed to strapping themselves in for Mal's landings so it was no surprise when Serenity set down with an ungainly jolt. On his first landing, a particularly fine bottle of rye whiskey that Jayne had been saving fell and broke. Jayne groused about it to Mal but the merc’s heart hadn’t been in it. That was then. Now, Jayne didn’t require the flimsiest of reasons to communicate to Mal his deep ire.

Mal cursed as the ship lurched again. He had entered the wrong sequence and Serenity dragged a bit before coming to a full stop. Unstrapping the shoulder harness, he leaned up to look out the window. Not seeing a flurry of activity which would indicate he had hit something, he sat back down breathing a sigh of relief. He paid more attention, though, as he entered the post flight sequence and powered down the engines. Kaylee would give him another earful for his less than careful treatment of Serenity. Her tirade would be punctuated by the River-could-be-the-pilot look which he would respond with his I'm-the-Captain-and-it's-none-of-your-gorramn-business look.

The kid had seemed promising, that was a fact, but now wasn’t the time for her to assume pilot detail. The subject of the pilot situation had been broached exactly once and when Zoë first heard about the possibility of River becoming the new pilot, she had just stared at him. Stared at him for several long uncomfortable moments before offering a most diplomatic response: “Ain’t exactly comfortable with our lives in her hands.”

"I get that,” Mal replied, looking down at her boots. “She's a flair for it, though.” He had thought that the subject was over but when he looked up, he caught an unmistakable flash of naked betrayal in her eyes. Her look had shot right through him; it was not a look he ever thought to be receiving from Zoë.

River had showed up in the bridge once more before silently slipping out. Mal figured it was good the kid was a reader - saved him the trouble of having to tell her his own self. The situation didn't sit right with him; he wasn't in the business of dashing whatever hopes and dreams went through her head. But Zoë…Had to respect that.

A green light popped on indicating that Serenity was fully powered down. Mal had once neglected to check on that light and hopped out of his seat prematurely only to be summarily bounced down the forward steps. Kaylee’s anger at his thoughtlessness was truly a sight to see. While she may have been justified in her anger, Mal didn't like being lectured about his own ship. He had yelled back at her and he was a far better yeller than she could ever hope to be. She had stalked off glaring at him and he knew that once his back had turned she had bestowed upon him an offensive hand signal. That he let slide.

Mal got up from the pilot's seat and headed for his bunk where he quickly began assembling the necessarily paraphernalia required for a meet with Lester Fenwick. Problem was, he hadn’t exactly been invited. He was relying heavily on the notion that Fen usually had something in the works that he needed outside assistance with. More often than not, Fen's works consisted of jobs of a more dangerous nature than Mal liked. Jobs that skirted too close to branches of the crime world Mal had gone to great lengths to avoid. Contrary to popular opinion, there really was a limit to how low he’d sink.

Or was there? He pondered the idea as he tied his holster to his leg. Position he was in, if Fen had a job, Mal couldn’t see how he could turn it down. A captain couldn’t be discriminating with a ship running on empty, water close to dried up, and a hungry crew who hadn't been paid since Lilac. Not to mention the hungry loan shark who would most certainly be calling if he didn't tender coin in the near future. Checking his weapon, he wondered how long he had before Sunny unleashed her dogs. She may talk nice and try to be friendly but she liked her money more than she liked him.

He slid a long, thin knife in his boot, grabbed his coat and climbed out of his bunk. Entering the hold, Mal paused at the catwalk before descending the stairs. From his vantage point, it appeared that Zoë and Jayne were…chatting. As if they were conducting an actual conversation. Then Jayne cackled and Zoë gave him a disapproving look making Mal feel better.

"Still not sure if it's a good idea to try for business with Fenwick." Zoë said to Mal as she inspected her Mare's Leg. “Man makes me jumpy.”

“Just don’t know him as I do. Fen and I go way back.” The meet with Fen was unsettling him; felt too much like begging but Serenity was close to fuming and he couldn’t go carting across the galaxy looking for work. They were here, Fen was here. "I'm confident."

"Well, that makes one of us," Jayne said, sliding on his coat.

"You're welcome to stay on Serenity." Mal turned and faced Jayne. "Or off, if you're of a mind to." Mal's bluster usually won over Jayne's brawn and today was no exception.

"We need the mule?" Jayne asked by way of changing the subject.

Mal shook his head not only letting Jayne know that they didn't need the mule but also to convey his disgust at the yellowness of his merc. Mal wished Jayne would actually follow through on some of the menace he'd been putting out as of late. He needed someone to fight with other than Inara. Of late, their arguments had taken a decided turn toward nasty. And not the good kind, either.

He glanced back as he heard the sound of Serenity's airlock opening. Kaylee stood by the controls waiting for Inara to join her. Without a look in his direction, they linked arms and strolled out.

"Be back in an hour, we may have to get goin'." Mal called after them. "Got a com, don't ya?"

They paused turning their heads to look back at him. The look they gave him was unsurprisingly icy. They exchanged a glance as if trying to decide who had to be the one to answer him. Kaylee seemed to be the loser of the silent debate. "Yeah, Cap'n," she said turning back around. She whispered something to Inara and broke out in a fit of giggles. Inara smiled indulgently at Kaylee but she gave Mal a brief, contrite look over her shoulder.

Her look made him feel all the more worse about the things he had said to her at that last dinner. He watched her and Kaylee walk toward to marketplace their shoulders bumping together as they walked. Looking back, he saw Zoë and Jayne waiting for him. He looked beyond them and saw Simon standing by the door to the common area.

“Looks like the ship is yours, doc,” he called out to him. Simon just looked at him blankly. Mal turned back to Zoë and Jayne. "Alright, let's do this thing."

***

Mal, Zoë, and Jayne weaved their way through the crowded market district of Little Yangon. Like many of the border planets, the trade center wasn’t on par with those on Core planets or even Persephone or Beaumonde. Still, folks had a need to trade their wares and on the Western Province of Liann Juin, this was the place to do it. The wares being traded were on the pitiful side. Whatever vegetation that was to be found looked limp and brown and not at all appetizing.

They walked through a mass of makeshift tents where people had set up their temporary homes. Many people who frequented this city were either just arriving or trying to get the hell off. The problem was most had spent whatever money they had to get here and once finding work was scarce and the land was infertile, they had little options in the way of leaving.

Mal stopped at an intersection getting his bearings. He looked around until he was satisfied they were going the right way. Jayne and Zoë followed him as he led them down an increasingly decrepit residential street. The houses were a garden variety of scrapped together homes. Most were constructed of mud but a few had made use of spare ship parts.

They kept to one side of the dirt street until Mal stopped in front of a house. Someone had made an effort to beautify the mud structure by painting the house green but many rains had blended most of the paint into the hardened mud and the result was an unappealing greenish, brownish streaky mess.

Mal looked at the house trying to remember if this was the right one. His eye fell on a man who was sitting on the porch watching his scrutiny. The man stood up resting his hand on the gun at his hip. Looks like this was the right place.

“I’m here to see Fen,” Mal called out, walking toward the man. Mal judged the man to be about thirty. He had brown hair and brown eyes and wore brown pants and a brown shirt. Tossed over a chair lay the man’s brown coat. Mal and Zoë exchanged a glance and she gave a slight shake of her head; she didn’t think the man was an Independent either. Just a boring dresser.

“You got an appointment?”

Appointment? “Yeah,” Mal said trying to keep the contemptuous amusement from his voice. “Name’s Malcolm Reynolds. I believe I’ve got a three o’clock appointment.”

The man looked at his watch. “You’re early.”

Mal offered what he hoped to be a bright, friendly smile. “Early bird, you know?”

“Wait here.”

“Appointment?” Jayne asked incredulously after the man disappeared into the house. “What kinda crook is this?”

“The kind that don’t like people comin’ in unannounced,” Zoë replied giving Mal a look before glancing around. She did not look at all happy with their situation.

Another man sauntered out of the house. He was younger than the first and had the look of someone who thought too highly of himself. His red shirt, unbuttoned half-way down his chest, was tightly tucked into his tight-around-the-important-areas black trousers. His black hair shone with whatever hair product was necessary to keep it perfectly coiffed. He sized up Mal and Jayne giving them a hostile look but as his eyes turned to Zoë, his demeanor changed considerably.

“How you doin’?” He asked walking down the step toward her. He smiled a stupid, flirty smile.

Zoë gave him an impatient look. “Be doin’ better if we were in there.”

“You here to see Fen?”

“Yep.”

“Well, come on!” He gave her a wide, welcoming grin and gestured her to come up to the house with him. “I’m JT, and you're fine."

"Think you can get us in, JT?" Zoë asked with zero flirtation in her voice.

JT seemed not to notice her less than enthusiastic reception to his attention. “For you, anything.” He held the door open for her. Mal and Jayne started to follow but JT didn’t hold the door for them. Jayne reached out and caught the door before it slammed shut.

They followed JT and Zoë down a hall that opened into a kitchen. JT grabbed a banana off the table offering it to Zoë. She gazed at him steadily not taking the fruit.

“Sure?” JT said with a leer.

Zoë continued to stare at him.

JT shrugged and put it back on the table. He walked through another door. Following behind, Jayne grabbed the banana as well as a muffin that was alongside and put them in his pocket.

They walked through an open doorway onto a small porch. A small dusty yard littered with trash greeted them. An old, frayed woman was sitting on a rocking chair knitting. She didn’t look up as they passed her on their way to another building in the back.

“Afternoon, Miz Fenwick,” JT drawled. She made an irritated sound still not looking up.

JT opened the door to a small metal structure and gestured for Zoë to enter. This time, he held the door for Jayne and Mal glaring at them as they walked through.

Whatever conversations had been going on ceased immediately as the others in the room realized their private space had been intruded upon. One tall slender man, clad in faded blue coveralls, looked their direction. Lester Fenwick glared at Mal for a few moments before releasing his hold on the collar of the man from the front door.

"Well, hell!” Fen said, pushing the man against the flimsy wall. He scrunched his grey eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Trav, here, told me you were wanting a meet but I almost shot him for lying to me.”

Mal straightened as he took in the eight thuggish types littered about the room. He stepped forward unsure of what Fen was angry about.

“You got a lotta nerve showing your face around here," the older man snarled. At his words, Mal heard the very distinctive sound of weapons being cocked. He reached out a hand motioning to Jayne not to draw his gun and didn’t miss the quick look Jayne threw to Zoë for confirmation.

"How you figure that?" Mal ran through the list of comrades the Operative had killed but couldn’t think of a connection between them and Fen.

"I introduced you.” Fen said walking slowly to Mal. “Vouched for you." He stopped. “Fanty and Mingo. Up and dead – the both of them! Bodies turned up in the great Salty. You know how that makes me look?”

Fanty and Mingo? Mal swore at himself - he should have suspected it since they never came calling for what they believed was their additional share of the Lilac take. In truth, he had steered clear of them afraid they would request their money to be repaid. “I didn’t know they were dead.”

“You didn’t, did you?” Fen’s red face was getting redder. He took another step closer to Mal until their faces were inches apart. “Their man said they disappeared no more than a couple of days after you had words over a job.”

“Weren’t us.”

“Weren’t it?” Fen mocked Mal’s speech. Fen was as much a Rimmer as Mal but Fen considered himself a city man thus better than the rurals. “Wouldn’t be the first time you decided you didn’t want to share the booty.”

Mal’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t expecting to be hit up with this story. He couldn’t resist glancing back at his crew. Zoë looked angry. Jayne looked confused.

“Big man,” Fen called to Jayne. “Didn’t you know how your 'honorable' captain came about that boat of his? It’s a sordid tale of greed, to be sure. Fine job set up by Walton but not a one man came out of that alive.” He turned his attention back to Mal. “Except you. With all that money. And not a week went by before you bought your junker. Did I hear wrong?”

"Never bothered you in the past."

"Well, it's bothering me now."

“You got a job for us or not?”

“I sure as hell don’t,” Fen said moving away.

Mal debated on the best approach to take. Tricky thing begging without appearing to beg. If Fen smelled desperation they would really have trouble. “In truth, Fen, we did not kill Fanty and Mingo."

“Oh, well,” Fen drawled. “If you say so!” But his eyes showed some doubt. He motioned for his people to lower their weapons. "I don't like you, Reynolds. And the only reason you’re still standing here is my mother won’t be happy if I get blood on her carpet.”

Mal looked down at the threadbare rug that encompassed the small room. Once upon a time, it may have been pretty. “Don’t have to go like this. We’re just in the neighborhood and heard you might be lookin’ for crew to take care of some business.” He hadn’t heard any such thing but no need in Fen thinking they were begging.

“Heard from who?” Fen asked but he didn’t wait for an answer. He pointed a finger and jabbed Mal in the chest. “Don’t you ever show your face around here again. You're trouble.”

“The good kind of trouble, right?" Mal tried for a little PR. "The kind of trouble a businessman looks for in his…contractors.”

“Are you trying to aggravate me more than I already am? Best walk on out of here before I decide I don’t care if I make Mama mad.”

Mal looked around the room. Several of the men stood up to emphasize Fen’s point.

“JT!” Fen bellowed. “If you weren’t my new girlfriend’s kid I’d scald your ass. Show ‘em out!” He crossed his arms and glared at Mal. “The back way.”

***

“Is that what everybody thinks?” Jayne asked as they walked down a narrow alley behind the row of houses. “That we killed them? Makes no kinda sense at all.”

“It does actually,” Zoë said. “They were killed on account of us.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know it. It’s circumcision is what it is. Can’t convict on that.”

“Don’t matter. It is our fault,” Mal said. They reached a clearing and Mal stopped. He put his hand to his forehead trying to massage away the coming headache.

Jayne and Zoë hung back watching him pace a circle. Fen was his last resort for the type of respectable crime he preferred committing. There was worse out there. Helluva lot worse. Tito wasn’t too far off but the thought of going that route pained him. Drug running was something he vowed he’d never get into. He looked up and met Zoë's worried eyes. He shook his head; his options were running out fast. He truly didn’t believe things would get this bad for them. Should have expected it, though; luck was not something that smiled on him.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” she said softly, walking toward him.

“You comin’ up with any ideas?" Mal ran a hand through his hair. Zoë glanced back at Jayne who appeared as if he had something to say. Mal walked up to him. "How ‘bout you, Jayne?”

Jayne straightened, looming over him. Mal didn’t back down.

"Yes I do," Jayne said, looking down at him. "Passengers, Mal." He gestured toward the town center. "There's a mess of people dyin' to get outta this hellhole."

"We really want to subject some innocent people to…us?" Zoë asked.

"Inara and Kaylee can entertain them. Everyone else can go about their business."

Mal shook his head. Last bunch of passengers he took on proved a mite troublesome.

"Ain't all gonna be fugies, Mal," Jayne said. "At least we can get enough to fuel the ship."

"Don't think it's the way to go, Jayne," Mal said.

"Why the hell--"

"'Cause we still don't know where we’re at with the feds, Jayne," Zoë said. "Think our hands need more blood on’m?"

"Oh," Jayne looked defeated.

“Excuse me?” A voice from behind them called out.

They turned to see one of the Fen’s guys approaching. He was about fortyish with brown hair liberally streaked with grey. He wore faded jeans and a well-worn tan shirt. A thick scar ran alongside the right side of his face.

“Hey, I might got somethin’ for ya’ll,” he said, limping toward Zoë and Mal.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Mal asked.

“A guy out of Three Hills is needing a solid crew. He and Fen had a falling out so it’s not like I’m going behind his back. But he’s a friend of mine and I know he’s been lookin’ for someone.”

“Why ain’t you all over this?” Jayne asked, looking down at him. “You settin’ us up?”

The man looked surprised. “No. Hell no. It’s just… There's an element of danger, that's a certainty. Not sure about the particulars but, ya’ll look like you can handle yourselves.”

“Still ain’t seeing the why of you tracking us down for good news,” Mal said.

“The name’s Stanislaw Kotkiewicz.” He offered his hand to Mal. “I was with the 67th Infantry.”

Surprised, Mal took the proffered hand. He could have kicked himself for not realizing who the man was. Usually, he prided himself on instantly spotting another Browncoat.

“We gotta stick together somehow,” Stanislaw said. “I had you two pegged for some ‘Coats the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“With the 67th, huh?" Zoë asked. "Which unit?”

“Roscoe Huang’s.”

She nodded, recognizing the name. “Still in prison?”

“Ain’t sure. Heard a rumor the Purplebellies finally released the officers.” He spat on the ground. “Good will and all.”

“You know Nguyen? Ambrose Nguyen?”

“I did.”

“Did?”

“Cameroon Sands.”

“Oh, hell.”

“No picnic, that’s for sure. You knew him?”

“We started out together," Zoë said. "Knew him from my first assignment after basic. Good man. Family man.” She turned away, looking out at the street shaking her head.

Mal remembered why he hated running into army acquaintances. Never was good news to be gleaned.

“About this guy…” Mal said.

“Name’s Oklahoma Burnside. He’s out at Three Hills.”

Three Hills. That was a ways from here. He tried to figure out if they had enough fuel to get there. “Hate to make that trip for nothing.”

“Yeah. I’ll wave him and tell him to expect your call. I’ll vouch for ya’ll.” He scribbled an address on a scrap of paper and handed it to Mal.

Mal stared at the wave address trying to stifle the pitiful rush of gratitude swelling in him. He looked back up at Stanislaw inexplicably not wanting the man to think ill of him. “In earnest, we didn’t kill Fanty and Mingo. There was a dispute about money, that’s true, but that ain’t how we operate.”

“I get that,” Stanislaw nodded seeming to understand. “It’s just Fen’s been upset about them. They owed him money.”

***

Mal had taken the last of the cash he had and fueled up Serenity which left him well and truly broke. He barely had enough to cover the fuel needed to get them to Three Hill but they were headed for a job and he was more than willing to shell out the last of his coin. Three days to Three Hills. He hoped the prospect of a real job might ease some of the tensions that had been weighing heavily on the crew.

After clearing atmo and charting their course for Three Hills, Mal settled back to his favorite pastime of watching the black. His eye was drawn to a light indicating that someone was on the Cortex in Shuttle 1. He watched until the light blinked off. Without thinking, he jumped up and headed down to the catwalk outside the shuttle. Leaning against the railing, he looked down at the dark and empty cargo hold and waited for her.

Inara stepped out looking surprised to see him there. They looked at each other for a moment both remembering the last words exchanged between them.

"Movin' back to your old ways?" He asked casually.

“Hardly,” she said, joining him at the railing. “I was just on the Cortex.”

He wanted to ask who she was speaking to but wasn’t prepared for her answer. "Thinking 'bout renting her again," he said, lightly jerking his head in the direction of the shuttle. He gave her a small smile - it was the best in the way of an apology he could give her.

"Really?" she said, smiling back at him. "That prospector still interested?"

Seeing her here outside her shuttle brought back memories of better days on Serenity. Except, she looked different. Her expensive finery was gone, replaced by some lovely but simple confections she had picked up on Persephone. She looked…approachable.

“Talk to Sunny recently?”

As he knew it would, her smile vanished.

“What?”

“She told me you offered to pay,” Mal said sounding less harsh than he had intended. He’d played this conversation over in his head countless times since Sunny told him about Inara’s offer. The conversations always ended with her saying she was sorry and promising never to disobey him again. “And, here I am remembering me telling you to keep your gorramn money.”

“Pardon me for trying to save your life.”

She never said anything like that in his fantasy conversation. “Ain’t asking anything from you. I can save my life on my own.”

“Can you?” She asked looking at him before turning her gaze to the cargo bay. “I remember several times you couldn’t.”

“Did it never enter your mind that it would be best not to give the crazy killer your address?” This time he sounded far harsher than he had intended.

“What address?” Inara asked, looking up at the ceiling. “I have an address?”

There was something behind her words that caught his attention. It was a curiosity to him her apparent estrangement from the Guild. He hadn’t asked but the fact that she was still here couldn’t be helping with her standing with the Companion’s Guild. He’d hauled her out of the Training House over two months ago.

“Not a good idea, Inara,” he said, gazing down at her. She was still looking away from him giving him the opportunity to look his fill.

“Why is it so difficult for you to accept help?” Her voice was soft but she didn’t look up at him. “You’ll steal someone’s money but you won’t take what I’m freely offering.”

Freely offering? His hands gripped the railing tighter as his mind played over her words. His mind was threatening to take him somewhere he had no business going. “Thought nothing from a Companion comes free.”

“What are we talking about?” She looked up finally trying to meet his eyes. They gazed at each other for a moment. He couldn't gage not a whit what was going through her head.

“Me not taking your money,” Mal said, looking away from her.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“What matters is your damned interfering. Ain’t your business.”

“You made it my business when you took me out of the Training House.”

“I should’ve left you there?" The woman could talk nonsense with the best of them. "I think you have some idea what probably would have happened.” He thought of Haven and then conjured an image of the Training House meeting the same fate.

“You checked with yours, did you?” He asked softly.

“They’re all fine.”

As it was, she looked so very lovely. Her long, dark hair was loose and not perfectly fixed. She no longer favored the make-up that defined her as a Core woman. She looked beautiful in a pretty way. And her pretty enticed him more than her refined beautiful.

“Hate to be the cause of interruptus of whore lessons. Hope this episode didn’t keep those girls from crucial kǒu jiāo lessons.”

Inara stared at him, all traces of softness in her eyes gone. “You are amazing, Mal. Really unbelievable.” She started to walk down the stairs but turned back to him. He crossed his arms waiting for her to continue. “You really do need to come up with more ammunition, Captain. As it is, your reliance on the whoring thing is becoming rather pathetic.”

“I got rules on this boat, Inara,” he said, pointing his finger at her. “No one goes behind my back for anything. Maybe can’t expect a woman in your line of work to understand—“

“Nobody dies in my line of work,” she interrupted looking at him defiantly.

They glared at each other each unable to understand how things always went so wrong. “Well, they do in mine. Best you stay the hell out of it, dong ma?” They looked at each other for a few moments more. “My boat, my rules.”

She tilted her head as if deferring to his request then straightened and gave him a salute. It was a perfectly executed salute, too. One that Mal never gave nor ever received but the kind he’d seen officers give to their superiors. Alliance officers. His eyes narrowed not liking the thought of how she could be so well acquainted with military gestures. She looked startled as if she’d given too much away. Without another word, she turned and descended the stairs.

“You make her mad again?” Jayne asked, coming up behind him. “Don’t you get tired of that?”

“She’ll be gone soon,” Mal said, watching as she disappeared into the common area.

Jayne rested his arms against the railing. He was holding the banana he had nicked from Fen’s place. He peeled it, broke off a part and handed it to Mal. “Good to have a job, ain’t it?”

Jayne was dying to ask about what Fen had said earlier. About how he got Serenity. Well, he could ask the night away but Mal wasn’t interested in dredging up that old story. He took a bite of the banana relishing the sweetness and the texture of the fruit. He looked back down at the empty cargo bay and felt satisfied. They had a job. That’s all that mattered.