BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - ROMANCE

CLIO

Something To Think On: Chapter 4
Wednesday, July 29, 2009

M/I. Post-BDM. On nicknames, bonding, and a little slice of joy.


CATEGORY: FICTION    TIMES READ: 2089    RATING: 10    SERIES: FIREFLY

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Something To Think On
by clio
Chapter Four

But those first months he knew her, wasn’t much to pick up on. Not really. What had there been, after all? An awkward moment there, right on, when he accused her of running. Later, a violent client, and then her asking, her needing, to stay. The wave from Sihnon and the stop at Ariel. Looking back, he could see the order to it all, could tell himself till he was blue in the face there were things there he should have seen. But back then – it was like having a handful of pieces out of a puzzle of the black. Or like trying to catch fireflies in the dark. Damn elusive things; think you’ve latched onto one only for it to disappear before your gorram eyes.

But it wasn’t so surprising that he couldn’t make it all fit in those early days. After all, back then, in the beginning, he only barely knew her.

Hell, still didn’t know her, much.

And so, for a time, he’d let it – the mystery of her, that niggling little sensation that something was not as it should be – drop from his mind. Forgot about it near completely, truth be told – in large part, because he was momentarily consumed by a little slice of joy.

Not that Patience’s shooting him in itself was a thing to be joyful in, mind. She was a damned conniving woman, and that bullet stung something fierce. But he would’ve held Patience’s shooting him against her a hell of a lot harder if it hadn’t’ve had a very particular result. That job – that shameful, botched job – marked the moment Zoe started softening toward their renter.

***

“Can’t avoid me forever, Sir.” Didn’t need to look up from where he sat on the edge of the catwalk, looking out at the cargo hold (where he’d sat with her a small handful of times), to know who it was. Wasn’t surprised she’d found him; what surprised him was she’d let him be this long.

“What makes you think I was avoidin’ you?” His voice was rough.

“What makes you think you weren’t?”

***

Reckoned he wouldn’t’ve been in the mess to begin with if Jayne hadn’t decided to take leave for a spell to see his momma. The merc could kill a man without flinching, but when his momma wrote with news about little Matty, and its being his birthday, he was off before you could blink.

At the time, he didn’t see no need for the merc, though. Plenty of jobs they’d done before they brought him on board, and this one seemed simple enough. Fellow on Persephone looking to sell off some weaponry couldn’t legally be sold under Alliance watch. A man had guns in the Alliance, he went through the Alliance to get them (they had some interest in knowing precisely who could take up arms against them).

This fellow – name of Ihsan – had of recent caught notice of some work they’d done for Badger (mighty good work, if he said so himself: clean and fast). If they could find him a buyer, the job was theirs, but it had to happen quick. Well, any chance to get out from under Badger’s wing he’d take. Man’s commission was robbery, and his jobs stunk (sometimes in a way literal). And so he did find a buyer, one Patience Mallory: ran a salvage op out of Whitefall.

He’d gone in expecting no trouble; the woman seemed harmless enough. He’d brought the cargo out on the mule, Zoe at his side. She’d shaken her head on the ride from Serenity to the place Patience’d marked for their meeting. “I don’t much like it, Sir.”

He shrugged. “What’s not to like? She’s just an old lady. Probably don’t even know how to handle a firearm.”

“Why’d she want Serenity left so far away?”

He shrugged. “Nothing funny in wanting to meet a man face to face, just you and him and the wind at your back.”

“Still don’t like it, Sir.”

Shortly after they rode in, Patience and one other came riding up atop two ponies. “You Mal Reynolds?” Voice was old and young at once.

He nodded from where he sat on the mule. “That’d be me. And this here’s my first mate.”

Under her wide-brimmed hat, Patience grinned as she nodded at Zoe. “What’s your name, girl?”

He could near hear Zoe’s teeth grinding from where she sat beside him. “Name’s Zoe.”

“Zoe, eh? Zoe. I like that. Strong name for a strong girl. You got yourself some good taste, Mal Reynolds.”

Yes, he reckoned he did. Zoe’d been right to begin with, of course. Most times she was. Sweet conniving Patience’d ridden out on her little pony, checked on her product, and by the end of it he’d been limping back to Serenity, leaning on Zoe for all she was worth – no money, no guns, no mule, and a bullet through his thigh.

“It gives me no pleasure to say, ‘I told you so,’ Sir.”

He conjured from her smirk it most certainly did.

***

His first mate lowered herself down beside him on the catwalk, to his right, where she’d always sat times they occasioned to be out here together. (Couldn’t see that happening again anytime soon.) Brown leather boots Zoe always wore (made her look like some femme fatale, and he conjured that was the point; little Kaylee may not’ve thought she knew much about being a girl, but she knew a hell of a lot about being a woman) hung down over the edge, looking something different than the other’s little slippers. He stared at them through narrowed eyes, in part so he wouldn’t have to look at her. She cleared her throat. “You know, Sir, something on your mind, you can tell me.”

Good bit of silence, then. When he finally made to speak, he felt her start a little in surprise. “Zoe –” His voice was something strangled and died on him. A beat of slience. “Zoe, how’d it feel when Wash –” He stopped, then, sudden. Shook his head, angry at himself. “Bú yàoliǎn” (he said to himself). To her: “Just look at me. I don’t mean to –” He rubbed a hand across his face and then up through his hair with some violence. “Don’t even know how I think I can think to compare. What you had with Wash, it was –. Gorramit, I never even – we never even –”

She smiled a sad little smile – one she’d been making an awful lot of use of in the months gone by since Wash’s passing – and reached over for his hand. Held it for a time in her lap in both of hers, them just watching for a time the look of his skin pale against hers. “Doesn’t make a difference, you know. Not one bit. Just means – just means you haven’t had the good parts, is all. All the pain and none of the joy. That don’t mean your pain’s any less.”

“What it means –? What it means?” Just shook his head, let out a harsh laugh. “Tell you what it means. None of it means a damn thing.”

***

‘Nara hadn’t come into the picture till later. It was his pilot and Kaylee – not the Companion – that came rushing at them as he hobbled into Serenity’s cargo hold from out of the Whitefall sun. (He caught just a glimpse of her high above, on the catwalk near her shuttle, watching, and then she was gone.)

Wash, moving frenetically, hands all over the place as he made to check over his wife: “Zoe, Mal! I’ve been trying to reach you for two hours! I’ve been worried sick!”

Zoe shrugged as she shifted his weight from her shoulders to Wash’s. “Patience took the mule and the comms. Left us with a bullet for our trouble. Don’t think it’s done too much damage. Maybe not as much as he deserves.”

From over to his left, Kaylee spoke up, looking a little helpless. “Oh, Cap’n – Does it hurt much?”

He grimaced. “Let’s just say this is not my best day ever.” And then: “Now, what do we do when this happens, again?”

And the shooting wasn’t the worst of it, nowhere near. Damage wasn’t much, like Zoe said. She gave him a field dressing until they could see someone about it on Persephone. Till then, he’d be hobbling around on an old crutch that must’ve been in the infirmary since before he bought the ship. No, the worst of it was trying to figure how he was going to explain to Ihsan that Patience’d played him. And that was what he and Zoe were doing some time later (as Wash guided their course), sitting side by side at the dining room table, both staring across the room.

“At least we still have one mule.”

“Well, now, that makes things a heap better, don’t it?”

She shrugged. “At least we still have half the product.”

“One damn thing I did right, it seems.” He sighed. “We’ll just have to tell him we’ll get the money to him. Maybe sell off the rest of the product in smaller chunks. Get more for it that way. And take cuts out of a few jobs to come.”

Her voice came from the doorway. “That won’t be enough.”

Both their heads shot up. “Aw, hell, what’s she doing here....” Zoe. “Don’t you have places to be? Doesn’t seem to me this is much of your business.”

She shook her head in anger. “You know that won’t be enough. I know people like him. I’ve done business with them. He’ll need some guarantee that you’re good for it, and it will need to be good.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “And somehow, I don’t imagine he’ll be very willing to take your word for it.”

He glanced back and forth between Zoe and the woman in the doorway. He keeps me alive, she’d said to Wash when they were fighting. And at that moment, it seemed frightfully important to him to hold on to Zoe, make sure she was still with him and always would be. “When we need your help, we’ll ask for it, you can be sure.”

Hands on her hips, her eyes were all fire. “Hútú dàn, both of you.” A beat. “You will need my help. I guarantee it.”

She stalked out of the room, and he dropped his head down to the table. “Chùsheng, we’re humped.”

***

She was quiet a little while before she spoke again, still holding his hand in hers. “I figured this was why you’ve been giving me wide berth. You’ve got it to mind that your being sad does me disservice. But there ain’t no disrespect to that, Sir. I’ll grieve for her the way you grieved for Wash, and I expect you’ll grieve for her the way I did my husband. You and me’re different people. We may love in different kinds of ways, but no less than the other.”

***

He was a man around Mal’s own age. Right now, they were in a dark library in his gated Persephone estate, Ihsan reclining, legs crossed, in a tall wingback chair, Mal standing before him (none too comfortably, what with that bullet in his leg), browncoat hanging like armor round him.

“So you’re telling me you’ve lost – half my merchandise, Captain Reynolds?”

Took a deep breath. “That’s about the size of it, yes.”

“But that you intend to repay your debt.”

He nodded, pushed through his explanation quick. “A little time, and I can make what’s left of the stock pay more than we were expecting. Awful lot of folk out there on an awful lot of backwater moons who’d like some means to defend themselves out in the black. And not all of them have enough sway with the Alliance to make it happen. I’ll find them for you. I’ll get your price. And if that don’t meet the debt, I’ll put aside from other jobs till we’re square.”

Ihsan watched him for a long moment as Mal shifted from foot to foot, hoping his nerves didn’t show too bad. “I’ll need collateral.”

Meeting wasn’t going none too well, it seemed.

“I’m an honorable man, and my crew’s trustworthy. We’ll do what I say we’ll do. We didn’t have to come back here, after all.”

Ihsan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I expect you did. Nobody in your line of work can avoid Persephone for long, Captain.”

Heaved a sigh; pushed a hand through his hair. “I don’t have collateral for you. All I’ve got’s my boat and my word.”

A quick nod. “Well, then. That will have to do.”

Hopeful: “My word?”

“Your ship, Captain.”

He shook his head, frowning and breathing hard. “You take my boat, I got no way to repay you.”

Fingers tapping his lips, like he was thinking on it: “I imagine that Firefly of yours would just about cover it.”

“Serenity’s my home. She’s my crew’s home. She i’n’t worth nothing to you.”

“She’s worth the price of your debt.” A beat. “And in future, you might stand to be more careful with those things you care about, Captain Reynolds.”

To think on the timing of it all still gave him a little thrill, thinking back. His mind was still reeling from the idea of losing Serenity – all over again. Worse this time, because wasn’t nobody to blame but himself. And then Ihsan’s attendant was opening the grand study doors leading into the dark mahogany room and clearing his throat. “Mr. Ihsan? There’s an Inara Serra here for you. Companion of the First Class.”

He heard her name, but he didn’t know what to do with it. Her name didn’t belong in that man’s mouth, or in this room, or in this part of his life at all. He swallowed; looked up at Ihsan, discreet as he could, trying to conjure what it meant. He was a mite relieved to see the man’s eyebrows lift – in surprise. “Oh? Show her in.” With a glance his way. “I hope you won’t mind.”

About all he could do was give the man an exaggerated shrug, a great big lift to his shoulders. “Oh, don’t mind me. You go right ahead. With the conversing, I mean. Not the – Companioning.”

And then, Ihsan was standing, and there she was, gliding into the room in a long gold dress that shifted back and forth around her hips and legs as she moved, wearing something more of her jewelry than she tended to, her hair wrapped up around her head in a fashion ever-so-formal. Looking to be floating just above the ground as she held her hand out daintily toward his creditor, smiling that smile meant to charm the world: “Ah, you must be Sebastian Ihsan. It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard talk of you.”

And the man was charmed, clear. Took her hand in his and bent at the waist to lay his lips on it. “I do hope none of it too bad.”

A small smile; a small laugh. “All of it good, I assure you.”

He watched Ihsan watching the Companion, breathing her in. “To what do I owe the honor, Miss Serra? And it is an honor.”

Not a glance his way – but he could feel her, feeling him. Her voice took on a slightly different quality: it was the voice she used to conduct business. She’d used that voice with him plenty. Because theirs was a business arrangement, after all. “I’ve come to speak for him.”

A startled laugh escaped his lips. “Indeed!” A beat. “I wouldn’t have imagined. Are you certain about that, Miss Serra?”

Still without a glance his way: “Quite.”

The man was quiet for a time, trying to read her. (Though he conjured that was near-about impossible; he’d tried times enough.) And then, the man nodded. “Very well. Captain, you’re free to go. I’ll expect payment in full within six months, if that’s acceptable to you?”

Cleared his throat. “It’s –”

Sharp: “He wasn’t speaking to you, Mal.” And then a smile at Ihsan. “Six months, but no interest on what’s owed. Your payment will be the same as that originally contracted.”

He glanced back and forth between them – they must’ve seemed quite a pair, him in his old browncoat, her in her fancy gown – and then nodded. “Very well.” With a smile: “It’s always good to have an ambassador for your cause, Captain Reynolds.”

He nodded. “An ambassador.” (Cracking a grin.) “That it is.”

And then they were walking out of the estate, her arm, for no reason he could tell other maybe than that bullet in his leg, wrapped around his waist. “Didn’t right know you Companion-folk could pull off things like that.”

“You never asked.”

“‘First Class,’ huh?”

Rolled her eyes at him, but there was a little smile playing around her mouth. “I’ve staked my reputation on you, Captain. You’d best start making good.”

She’d come in the mule, and they rode it back to Eavesdown Docks, where Zoe stood, hands on her hips, in front of Serenity’s gangplank. “Nice to see you, Sir. I reckon we’ve got some work to do about now. Just after we get that leg of yours seen to.”

Neither Inara or Zoe ever told him what transpired between them. Sometimes in his mind he thought to that little conversation, conjured what they might’ve said about him. He imagined yelling, maybe a slap. Probably though it was none too exciting, maybe nothing more than the Companion saying she could help.

After, he’d sometimes catch them, perhaps a mite awkward, trading little knowing glances between them. And at those moments, he felt about as much joy as he could imagine – even if it wasn’t the joy Zoe knew with Wash. What mattered was that Serenity was his, and she was a family, like she always should’ve been.

***

“Is one difference ‘tween Inara and Wash, though, Sir.”

He looked over, eyebrows raised.

His first mate took a deep breath. “Inara ain’t dead. And you’d do well to remember it.” And then she stood and walked away.

***

end chapter 4


Comments on the old may encourage me to write something new!

COMMENTS

Saturday, November 28, 2009 8:08 PM

BYTEMITE


The little bit here of River's premonition, None of it means a damn thing, in the same place in the cargo bay, and the situations. Nice echo there.

The conversation with Zoe is also one that I really like, his being upset that he'd even think to compare Inara to Wash. And the shocker at the end is still a good bombshell, especially considering you've said you never meant to give us the impression that Inara was any other way.

Monday, August 6, 2012 4:34 AM

AMDOBELL


Oh yeah, Zoe gets all the best lines! Really liked this look at Mal's first meeting with Patience and then how Inara came to his aid even though he wasn't asking. The story flows so well, really enjoying your spin on it. Ali D :~)
"You can't take the sky from me!"


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