Angelle is mine...the rest is Joss's. -----------------------------------------

The black...for some, it was home; a ship that carried their dreams and cushioned their pockets...to others, it was a prison that was filled with more loneliness and pain...to me, the first few hours always did a number to my stomach. My father said it was because I was landlocked as a child, venturing for my first time into space long after the war when we took a trip to the Valley. I have probably made hundreds of trips since then, but you would never know that as far as my nerves were concerned.

So I sat, bucket on one side of me and hard tack on the other. It was the only thing that kept my dinner down and I really didn't want it making a repeat performance in front of Mal and his crew. Guess it was a good thing they still didn't know I was an assassin. Weak stomach isn't exactly on the list of desirable attributes.

"You know the doctor can give you sumtin' for that." I heard him behind me and most of me wished he would have headed the other way. Guess today wasn't my day for wishes. "You okay, Angelle?"

"Just not good with the whole space travel thing. Give me an hour and I'll adjust." I smiled up at Mal, hoping my skin didn't look to green. After I was headed up the stairs was when it hit me so that had been where I stayed.

The captain sat next to me, handing me the hard tack. "I remember eating this. Used to drench it in whiskey just to make it edible."

"I've heard those stories. Dad said it was why he became a drunk, but truth be told, he was that long before." I laughed and my stomach wretched. Thankfully, I stopped it from completing the act.

"Never figured Sam's girl to get space sick." He looked at me with those blue eyes and I could just see trouble coming. In a way, he made me feel butterflies, though it could have also been the slightly over ripe tomatoes I had eaten earlier. "I was actually comin' to find you. 'Nara has a job she needs to be at 'fore we hit Whitefall. Is there anything pressin' you need to be at?"

Well, they say death waits for no man or is that time, but either way, my walking corpse could wait. "Not really. I do need to be there at least within the month, week if you can."

"In a rush to get away from us already." He grinned, sending another butterfly through my already queasy stomach. Have you ever had that sensation of being at the right place at the right time with the right person and you know that something amazing is going to happen right in front of you or even to you...well, I am here to tell you that whatever that moment was passed as soon as my salad from earlier made its repeat performance. Thankfully, I made it in the bucket before I died of embarrassment.

“Feel better?” Mal spoke beside me and I can tell you, anywhere else, but there was exactly where I wanted to be.

“Actually, yes, my stomach does feel better. It's my pride that worries me.”

“Think you're the first one to puke in that bucket?”

“No, but it wasn't on my list of things to do when I got on board.” I smiled at him after wiping my mouth on my sleeve. Suddenly, I could understand why he was attracted to the Companion. She was probably one of those who had not puked in the bucket.

“It's one of the perks you get when you book the premium tour.”

“So that's what I paid extra for.” I had learned long ago(especially with a father like mine) that either you learn to laugh at yourself or you'll live a pretty miserable life. So what if I puked my guts out in front of one of the most attractive men I had met in my entire life...it might be the end of the world, but I wasn't going down without a fight.

“So, why didn't you ask for half of the money from Badger?” It might not have been my concern, but I rather that then to start up the OTHER conversation we hadn't finished yet.

“Figure his cargo's got to be worth a pretty penny if he's gonna pay half the profit to deliver it. Badger might be a rat, but as a business man, there is none better at negotiating.”

“Roach.”

“What?” he asked me.

“He's a smart roach.” I looked at him as he gave me a funny look. “I was born in a swamp. Some of my very best friends are rats.”

“So what's in Whitefall?” He changed the subject and asked the question I had been dreading. Did I lie and tell him I was going to my aunt's house for some weird holiday that I would make up off the top of my head or did I tell him the truth and deal with the consequences?

“My aunt Eve wants me to have Gatorween dinner with her. She lives on Whitefall and I haven't seen her in about three years.”

“Gatorween?” Mal looked at me funny and I just shrugged before I turned to You and said ...GOT YA!!! Had you going for a minute....Believe me, if I had wanted to lie, I would have come up with something a lot better than that..Gatorween....ha ha ha......Anyway...

“Man there needs killin' and that's what I get paid to do.” I muttered watching his face for a sign, any sign.

“Reason this man's got to die?”

“Killed a friend of my dad's and a fellow Browncoat.”

“Reason enough.”

“Don't seem surprised.”

“Knew you weren't here to knit hats with that piece on your hip and you spotted 'Nara being a Companion quick enough. Besides, you ain't hitched so I figured you're either a killer for hire or lookin' for a man.”

Could I be both? No, I didn't say it out loud, but I can't say I didn't want to. “Well, in a way, I am doin' both. It's just to put a bullet in his head instead of a ring on his finger.” We sat in silence a moment before Mal spoke again.

“I miss your pa. He still dating Patience?”

“How did you know he ever dated her? And no. That ended about four years ago.”

“Might be why she shot me the first time.” Mal smiled, “Not sure why the second time...”

“She shot you? Twice. And you're bringing her more cargo.”

“Patience can be a might temperamental, but she usually pays with a little persuasion. Bullets work pretty good.”

“Damn and I thought my father was crazy for dating her. At least after she shot his ring finger off, he left her alone.” I chuckled. “She must love when you wave her. Dusts off the old pistol and everything.”

“You're as bad as my crew.”

“Well, might want to listen to them. Save you another scar, maybe even your head.”

“Well, she don't shoot to kill. Wouldn't come back if that were the case.”

“Of course, you wouldn't. You'd be dead.” I laughed.

“Your dad talk much about the war?” He quickly change the subject and I let him. No use beating a dead horse, though the use of a whip in this case might get me in a bit of trouble.

“Stories mostly...about you and Zoe and the 57th. He's so proud to have served with you.”

“Don't see what was so special bout us to make him proud?”

“You don't need to be special, Sir, to be part of something special. You all fought for what you believed no matter how impossible the stakes. Takes a bit more than guts to do that.”

“We lost.”

“Yup, but you live on and no Alliance asshole can take it from you. All the good men and women bleed Brown.”

“And what color do you bleed, Miss Angelle?”

“Green, because I am so envious that I couldn't be there to help.”

“You were there in every story your father told and in everything he ever did. Funny, I knew more about you than I did him by war's end.”

“My mother hated the fact I was a tom boy. She would cuss my father for making me that way and take my brother off to do their own thing. By the time I was three, I could tag along with my dad where ever he went and by four, I had killed my first gator. Mind you, it was a small one, but, boy, it made him proud. My dad is the only family I really ever knew and as much as I am a part of him, he's a part of me.”

“My mother was like that before she died. It about killed her when I told her I was going to war.” Mal dipped his head a second before raising it to face me. “You're the first I ever told that too.”

“We come from similar backgrounds. It's easy to relate.” I smiled and placed a hand on his knee. “Sorry your mom ain't around to see how much the war shaped you into a good man.”

“Is that what I am?”

“From where I'm standing.”

“Guess it's a good thing you're not standing. I get by, Angelle, that's what I do. This hero crap fell into my lap, I didn't ask for it.”

“Most heroes don't.” I looked at him a minute and stood up, finally getting my space legs. “Think I will go find out if anyone needs help with anything. I make a mean stew, sew a wicked straight line, and grease gears like nobody's business, plus I have been known to make a decent sparring partner. Got something for everyone. Could even be persuaded into talking while getting my hair brushed, but that will be our little secret. Nice talking to you, Sir. Need to do it again sometime.”

“Call me Mal or captain. No more sir, please.”

“Whatever you say, Mal.” I smiled again and grabbed my bucket heading to the mess hall to dispose of my, well, mess. I only wished there was one to clean up the mess my mouth had gotten me into. For some reason, I was better at talking with rats, they don't talk back and if you have food, they listen to you until it's gone, no matter what the topic. Sadly and strangely, at that moment, I missed home.....