Fic: ...keep flying... (part one)
Aug. 1st, 2006 02:21 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
matchlightfire.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
firefly_fanfic
For those of you over on fff.net, this one might seem a bit familiar (ages ago I posted earlier drafts of parts). I've been waiting to introduce it around here and figured there's no time like the present! Anyway, I hope you read and enjoy!
*
Title: Keep Flying - Part One
Author: me!![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
maantre
Word Count: 2781
Rating: PG13ish for some violence.
Characters: Captain Reynolds and his fine bunch of ruebens...and mysterious characters to come!
Spoilers/Timeline: This is post BDM, so if you do not wish to be spoiled please do not read!!
Disclaimer: Not my 'verse, but I like playing in it!
(all parts will be posted here @ my journal, flocked but always welcoming new friends!!)
*
One
They were almost to the drop point, fanned out and walking soft. It wasn’t that they were distrustful folk…they took it upon themselves to not be stupid folk. Even so, 90% of their jobs had a way of resulting in gunplay and those were the kind of odds that would make any Captain wary. Didn’t help that they were trudging through the scorching midday sun to meet none other than the Wiley brothers (fellows of a disreputable nature who liked to double cross so often taking a job with them was akin to shooting yourself in the foot). But times were tight even with the slowly weakening of Alliance hold over border planets.
The Alliance had never managed to get much of a grip on a planet like Sier, an unfortunate moon covered with about 80% of barren desert – the folk that settled here were of a particularly hard breed. One that hadn't been so surprised to learn that their government had been the cause of the worst sickness, death toll, and monsters their verse had ever seen. They'd been glued to their cortex screens for days, but their cries hadn't been completely shocked.
He felt no pride in his role of that unprecedented event – he hadn’t done it for himself. It hadn’t been for revenge, it hadn’t been the last stand of a fanatical Sergeant to bring an end to a war lost years ago. He’d really done it for them, for his crew. And in the process, he’d lost two of them (three, if he counted the one he drove back to her fancy academy and her life of silk and sex…but he was uncomfortable counting that one as anything but frustrating). The rage and pain were still ever present in his chest, (would always be, he had come to realize) and he didn’t have to look at his first mate to know it was pressed into the serious lines of her face. Her huge dark eyes were stony, focused, and hid the anguish well enough from the rest. Impossible to hide it from him and she’d since quit trying. If their bond meant he would have to shoulder some of her ache, then so be it.
"Tell me why we’re trekking through hell to meet folk who’ll just as soon turn a gun on us as pay us for this heavy gorram merchandise?" Jayne grunted irritably, hefting the large sack for a more comfortable rest on his broad shoulders. Mal smiled absently, glad that the mercenary had broken him from disquieting thoughts.
"Because they’re skittish to meet in public, and we’re skittish to walk into a setup. Last minute coordinates ensure no snipers," the Captain answered, shielding his eyes to glance around. Weren’t a blemish on the landscape for any gun to conceal themselves, so that last bit seemed almost an exercise in futility. Didn’t stop him from peeling the edge of his brown coat back enough to walk with his hand resting on the butt of his gun. Didn’t slow his eyes from darting around the landscape for the slightest movement.
"Sir." Zoe’s voice was tight, but not panicked. He didn’t draw his pistol or give any sign of outward distress, in case they were being observed by their twitchy client. He backed up to where Zoe was, eyes giving the landscape a final sweep before turning to where her gaze was riveted. He was stopped for a few seconds in complete shock, mouth agape. Jayne joined them, completing the semi-circle around the figure sprawled in the dirt. He dropped the large sack next to her, grunting in surprise as he registered it female (dirty and scuffed and unconscious, he was still able to appreciate feminine curves under a thin cotton dress). Zoe had bent to check her neck, nodding wordlessly at the Captain’s unspoken question. All were quiet for a collective moment.
"Huh." Mal said and looked at them incredulously. Of all the things to find in the middle of gorram nowhere, he hadn’t expected a girl. Long dark hair covered most of her face, but as he looked close he could see the almost imperceptible movement of her chest as she breathed.
"Diversion?" Zoe asked evenly, looking around for further evidence. Jayne stared at the girl’s feet for a second (combat boots peeking out from the longish dress) and wavering tracks stretching out in the hard packed clay behind her. There were only one set, and they looked like they’d been walked under distress – uneven, dragging in spots, stretched as far as the sun glare would allow his eyes to penetrate.
"Looks like she came an awful long way just to distract us from a transfer no one knew the location of," he said quietly, crouching low to study the tracks in detail. He didn’t like the coincidence, but he honestly couldn’t see any sign of a set up.
"We’re about a hundred yards out from the final coordinates," Zoe said, shading here eyes and pointing in the direction her locator indicated.
"I don’t see ‘em." Jayne said, sparing a glance from the tracks.
"I don’t like this," Mal said quietly. They were out in the open, no cover, and no sign of the client. Plus some girl. "It never goes smooth." He muttered and stepped back from the group. Dust swirled around his boots and the sun kept on burning.
"Sir, even if they were still en route, we would see them by now." Zoe said. She had eyes like a hawk and if she couldn’t find a sign of them there weren’t one to be found.
"You wanna call it a wash?" Jayne said before realizing his words. Her eyes darkened, but not quite with rage or even grief.
"We got cargo and we’re gonna sell it." Mal said firmly, but inwardly he was buzzing. It was slight but the hairs on the back of his neck were twitching. His entire body was subtly flashing the warning signs that something was not right…but when the hell was it ever. "I think we should probably-" He was cut off as the sharp crack of a bullet sounded in the flat desert air and he spun sideways, left shoulder a ball of fire. "Oh, gorrammit…" he muttered even as his right hand was filling with the solid weight of his gun and thundering into the sky.
Zoe had seen the flicker of movement only after the shot sounded – sniper was good, she had time to think before her own shotgun was blaring in her hand and after that, she only thought about the battle.
Jayne shifted the cargo in front of the unconscious girl by way of cover and palmed his lady, eyes raking the desert floor ahead of them. No cover, nothing above them, they had to be buried. He saw the shifting of the sand, loose in a half a dozen places where an equal amount of men were wriggling out of holes behind another half dozen who had climbed to their feet and charged. He grinned hard, taking careful aim. He knew the Cap’n and Zoe would have the ones running at them, so he concentrated on the next threat. Trouble with a prairie-dog hidey hole was the time it took you to get out of it. He counted a slow breath before shooting each one of them in the forehead.
"We woulda passed right through ‘em!" Zoe yelled over the gunfire, and Mal’s nod agreed. They made quick work of the ones trailing desert dust, running for what was supposed to be an easy ambush. It had been a set up, alright, and if they hadn’t been stopped by the girl they would have walked right into it. He cursed his luck, his stupidity for taking the job, and hoped the girl would be alright long enough to properly thank her. The gunshot echoes faded away, sucked into the windless sky, and he nodded to Zoe to venture forward and check the dead.
"Mighta noticed the pits," Jayne said, standing only after he was sure none of the buried men were moving.
"Spread out just far enough to not notice a pattern," Mal countered. He was kuang nu - they would have had the drop on him. Zoe ran quickly, silently, and reached the men and made quick work of patting them down. It hit him, then, how used to seeing her like that, crouched over a fallen enemy and emptying whatever goods were in his pockets into her own. She sat up, holding a small object high before leaning back down and going over the rest. Radio, he knew, and was even angrier. Their clients were probably sitting comfortably at home, waiting for word of their death and acquisition of cargo. Wang ba dans, he hissed inwardly, and set out to join Zoe.
"All the ammo!" Jayne hollered after him and he raised a hand in acknowledgement. He knew the mercenary would watch over the cargo and the mysterious savior of their hides.
*
Zoe worked over the limbs of each man calmly; ears perked for the rustle of more sand…any sign of reinforcements. The radio was a simple black piece, short range. It looked fairly primitive and probably only transmitted one way. If the boss didn’t get the message within a certain time frame, he would come looking – with a lot more firepower. She tossed another knife onto the pile of weapons and moved on to the next man. This one was obviously the sniper, had been the last to stand up and advance. They had been lying prone on the ground, stretched out and covered in a good layer of dirt. It was a good ambush, one she probably wouldn’t have planned much differently. Maybe left more buried for a last surprise, but she was confident in the knowledge that Jayne was watching for such a threat. It comforted her, the ease and familiarity of battle tactics. Being shut up in the black for weeks on end, roaming around places her dead husband’s ghost still lingered made it easy to forget that she was so incredibly good at this. She had time to wonder if her Captain took jobs like this to remind himself before he jogged up to her.
"Anything good?" He said, winded but moving easily despite his shoulder.
"Just basics. They weren’t out here for very long." Mal nodded, guessing as much. The coordinates had been a compromise, halved equally between two parties to ensure a totally neutral area. The men hadn’t had the time needed to arrange more sophisticated camouflage. He walked over to the hidey holes, mindful of Jayne’s work. The man was insufferable anywhere but in a shootout. They had slumped back into their cavities, each with a third bloody eye in the center of their forehead. He didn’t even bother wasting the time to pat them down. Already dead and buried, and a grave robber he was not.
"Sir?" He nodded at Zoe and she ripped the leader’s jacket off and dumped the gathered weapons into it.
"Let’s get the hell out of here." She nodded and bundled the goods up expertly, slinging the pack over one shoulder and setting out a quick jog. It was important to get back to Serenity now, to establish first contact – surprise never failed as a key battle advantage, and her mouth twisted (in the closest thing to a smile she was currently capable of) as she imagined the look on the Wiley’s faces.
"Anything good?" Jayne yelled up at them, still in a crouch near the girl and the sack.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Zoe said as she approached, Captain wheezing not far behind.
"Let’s get back to the ship." He said as he caught his breath, wincing as he moved his left arm without thinking.
"Need a dressing?" Zoe asked, once, and accepted the shake of his head. Never could get the man to tend to his wounds, and she’d long since tired of asking. He knew well enough the distance to their infirmary, and if he was in danger of passing out before reaching it he would say so.
Jayne just grunted and shouldered the pack. It was heavy, but not that bad. Scooping up the girl gently, he was worried at her slightness. Most folk, once they lost consciousness, weighed a damn ton. Dead weight, body became all kinds of awkward with flopping limbs and a lolling head. This one still hadn’t moved or made a motion of coming to. She was small enough to fit easily in his arms, and he tucked her close to his body to minimize jarring of any unseen injuries.
"You got it?" Cap’n asked once and Jayne nodded. Work on all of these muscles for a reason, he thought, but only rolled his eyes at Mal. "Let’s go." They set off at a light jog, Mal keeping his arm prone, Zoe with the spoils of war, and Jayne cupping the girl to his chest. Wouldn’t be right, leaving her there in the middle of nowhere to die of exposure after she’d (even if inadvertently) saved them all.
"All the places we’ve been, can’t never find a pretty blonde to cart back to the ship…" he mumbled under his breath, too quiet to be heard over the crunch of boots on loose gravel. "Pretty blonde on a mule with a pitcher of lemonade."
*
They reached Serenity in quick time, each thankful to be out of the quickly becoming intolerable heat.
"Lucky we found her," Mal said as they ducked into the cargo bay.
"Heatstroke, if she’d laid there through the hottest part of the day, or froze through the night." Zoe countered, dropping the weapons and heading for the com unit. There were all kinds of ways for a body to die in the desert.
"What are we gonna do with her?" Jayne asked over her announcement calling the doctor to the bay.
"We can drop her-" Mal started to say as Simon appeared through the doorway.
"Shoulder?" The dark haired man asked, spotting the blood.
"Hurts."
"Move it?" Mal demonstrated and growled at the pain. "Anybody else?" The doc said before Jayne turned around, revealing his bundle. "Oh." Simon said simply. If he was at all surprised at them coming back with an unconscious girl from the middle of nowhere he hid it well.
"Everybody ok!?" Kaylee’s voice called from above and appeared on the catwalk, wrench in hand.
"Got shot," Mal called back and she smiled weakly.
"Figured you and catchin’ a bullet on the job was implied," She managed as she hurried down the stairs. Despite the joke, she carried much concern for her Captain. Was always waiting for that one job that he just wasn’t going to come back from, that the rest of them wouldn’t come back from. "What happened-" her voice trailed off as she too caught sight of the form in Jayne’s arms. "Who is that?" She asked, shocked by the tiny body's still form and filthy state.
"Don’t rightly know," Jayne started to say before the Captain and Simon started arguing.
"Don’t need her gettin’ comfortable on my ship,"
"You can’t just leave her!"
"I can’t go nowhere with her!"
"Captain!" Both men turned at Kaylee’s near shout. The usually sunny face was hard with barely controlled anger. She didn’t need to continue, didn’t need to argue any further. Mal breathed out a hard sigh that belied the speech he didn’t have the energy to articulate. Kaylee softened, watched Simon trail the mercenary into the infirmary.
"I don’t want no trouble on account of her." Mal tried to sound commanding but his shoulder hurt too gorram hard to put much effort behind it.
"We get trouble with or without helpin’ folks," she said quietly and he clenched his jaw shut on any argument. Couldn’t refuse Kaylee much and truthfully didn’t much want to this time. Mystery Girl was running from something, true enough, and for the moment he was content to let her run with his.
"She just better not get me shot again," he tried as Kaylee started back up the stairs.
"Cap’n, you manage that one well enough on your own." His lips twisted at the smile in her voice and he nodded to himself.
"I do at that," he muttered before heading to the infirmary to let the doc dig around in his shoulder. He’d come up with a plan to deal with the no good, double crossing, cheating… (his mind thought through an impressive list of obscenities before settling on a fierce frown) Wileys after the pain meds kicked in.
*
Title: Keep Flying - Part One
Author: me!
maantreWord Count: 2781
Rating: PG13ish for some violence.
Characters: Captain Reynolds and his fine bunch of ruebens...and mysterious characters to come!
Spoilers/Timeline: This is post BDM, so if you do not wish to be spoiled please do not read!!
Disclaimer: Not my 'verse, but I like playing in it!
(all parts will be posted here @ my journal, flocked but always welcoming new friends!!)
*
One
They were almost to the drop point, fanned out and walking soft. It wasn’t that they were distrustful folk…they took it upon themselves to not be stupid folk. Even so, 90% of their jobs had a way of resulting in gunplay and those were the kind of odds that would make any Captain wary. Didn’t help that they were trudging through the scorching midday sun to meet none other than the Wiley brothers (fellows of a disreputable nature who liked to double cross so often taking a job with them was akin to shooting yourself in the foot). But times were tight even with the slowly weakening of Alliance hold over border planets.
The Alliance had never managed to get much of a grip on a planet like Sier, an unfortunate moon covered with about 80% of barren desert – the folk that settled here were of a particularly hard breed. One that hadn't been so surprised to learn that their government had been the cause of the worst sickness, death toll, and monsters their verse had ever seen. They'd been glued to their cortex screens for days, but their cries hadn't been completely shocked.
He felt no pride in his role of that unprecedented event – he hadn’t done it for himself. It hadn’t been for revenge, it hadn’t been the last stand of a fanatical Sergeant to bring an end to a war lost years ago. He’d really done it for them, for his crew. And in the process, he’d lost two of them (three, if he counted the one he drove back to her fancy academy and her life of silk and sex…but he was uncomfortable counting that one as anything but frustrating). The rage and pain were still ever present in his chest, (would always be, he had come to realize) and he didn’t have to look at his first mate to know it was pressed into the serious lines of her face. Her huge dark eyes were stony, focused, and hid the anguish well enough from the rest. Impossible to hide it from him and she’d since quit trying. If their bond meant he would have to shoulder some of her ache, then so be it.
"Tell me why we’re trekking through hell to meet folk who’ll just as soon turn a gun on us as pay us for this heavy gorram merchandise?" Jayne grunted irritably, hefting the large sack for a more comfortable rest on his broad shoulders. Mal smiled absently, glad that the mercenary had broken him from disquieting thoughts.
"Because they’re skittish to meet in public, and we’re skittish to walk into a setup. Last minute coordinates ensure no snipers," the Captain answered, shielding his eyes to glance around. Weren’t a blemish on the landscape for any gun to conceal themselves, so that last bit seemed almost an exercise in futility. Didn’t stop him from peeling the edge of his brown coat back enough to walk with his hand resting on the butt of his gun. Didn’t slow his eyes from darting around the landscape for the slightest movement.
"Sir." Zoe’s voice was tight, but not panicked. He didn’t draw his pistol or give any sign of outward distress, in case they were being observed by their twitchy client. He backed up to where Zoe was, eyes giving the landscape a final sweep before turning to where her gaze was riveted. He was stopped for a few seconds in complete shock, mouth agape. Jayne joined them, completing the semi-circle around the figure sprawled in the dirt. He dropped the large sack next to her, grunting in surprise as he registered it female (dirty and scuffed and unconscious, he was still able to appreciate feminine curves under a thin cotton dress). Zoe had bent to check her neck, nodding wordlessly at the Captain’s unspoken question. All were quiet for a collective moment.
"Huh." Mal said and looked at them incredulously. Of all the things to find in the middle of gorram nowhere, he hadn’t expected a girl. Long dark hair covered most of her face, but as he looked close he could see the almost imperceptible movement of her chest as she breathed.
"Diversion?" Zoe asked evenly, looking around for further evidence. Jayne stared at the girl’s feet for a second (combat boots peeking out from the longish dress) and wavering tracks stretching out in the hard packed clay behind her. There were only one set, and they looked like they’d been walked under distress – uneven, dragging in spots, stretched as far as the sun glare would allow his eyes to penetrate.
"Looks like she came an awful long way just to distract us from a transfer no one knew the location of," he said quietly, crouching low to study the tracks in detail. He didn’t like the coincidence, but he honestly couldn’t see any sign of a set up.
"We’re about a hundred yards out from the final coordinates," Zoe said, shading here eyes and pointing in the direction her locator indicated.
"I don’t see ‘em." Jayne said, sparing a glance from the tracks.
"I don’t like this," Mal said quietly. They were out in the open, no cover, and no sign of the client. Plus some girl. "It never goes smooth." He muttered and stepped back from the group. Dust swirled around his boots and the sun kept on burning.
"Sir, even if they were still en route, we would see them by now." Zoe said. She had eyes like a hawk and if she couldn’t find a sign of them there weren’t one to be found.
"You wanna call it a wash?" Jayne said before realizing his words. Her eyes darkened, but not quite with rage or even grief.
"We got cargo and we’re gonna sell it." Mal said firmly, but inwardly he was buzzing. It was slight but the hairs on the back of his neck were twitching. His entire body was subtly flashing the warning signs that something was not right…but when the hell was it ever. "I think we should probably-" He was cut off as the sharp crack of a bullet sounded in the flat desert air and he spun sideways, left shoulder a ball of fire. "Oh, gorrammit…" he muttered even as his right hand was filling with the solid weight of his gun and thundering into the sky.
Zoe had seen the flicker of movement only after the shot sounded – sniper was good, she had time to think before her own shotgun was blaring in her hand and after that, she only thought about the battle.
Jayne shifted the cargo in front of the unconscious girl by way of cover and palmed his lady, eyes raking the desert floor ahead of them. No cover, nothing above them, they had to be buried. He saw the shifting of the sand, loose in a half a dozen places where an equal amount of men were wriggling out of holes behind another half dozen who had climbed to their feet and charged. He grinned hard, taking careful aim. He knew the Cap’n and Zoe would have the ones running at them, so he concentrated on the next threat. Trouble with a prairie-dog hidey hole was the time it took you to get out of it. He counted a slow breath before shooting each one of them in the forehead.
"We woulda passed right through ‘em!" Zoe yelled over the gunfire, and Mal’s nod agreed. They made quick work of the ones trailing desert dust, running for what was supposed to be an easy ambush. It had been a set up, alright, and if they hadn’t been stopped by the girl they would have walked right into it. He cursed his luck, his stupidity for taking the job, and hoped the girl would be alright long enough to properly thank her. The gunshot echoes faded away, sucked into the windless sky, and he nodded to Zoe to venture forward and check the dead.
"Mighta noticed the pits," Jayne said, standing only after he was sure none of the buried men were moving.
"Spread out just far enough to not notice a pattern," Mal countered. He was kuang nu - they would have had the drop on him. Zoe ran quickly, silently, and reached the men and made quick work of patting them down. It hit him, then, how used to seeing her like that, crouched over a fallen enemy and emptying whatever goods were in his pockets into her own. She sat up, holding a small object high before leaning back down and going over the rest. Radio, he knew, and was even angrier. Their clients were probably sitting comfortably at home, waiting for word of their death and acquisition of cargo. Wang ba dans, he hissed inwardly, and set out to join Zoe.
"All the ammo!" Jayne hollered after him and he raised a hand in acknowledgement. He knew the mercenary would watch over the cargo and the mysterious savior of their hides.
*
Zoe worked over the limbs of each man calmly; ears perked for the rustle of more sand…any sign of reinforcements. The radio was a simple black piece, short range. It looked fairly primitive and probably only transmitted one way. If the boss didn’t get the message within a certain time frame, he would come looking – with a lot more firepower. She tossed another knife onto the pile of weapons and moved on to the next man. This one was obviously the sniper, had been the last to stand up and advance. They had been lying prone on the ground, stretched out and covered in a good layer of dirt. It was a good ambush, one she probably wouldn’t have planned much differently. Maybe left more buried for a last surprise, but she was confident in the knowledge that Jayne was watching for such a threat. It comforted her, the ease and familiarity of battle tactics. Being shut up in the black for weeks on end, roaming around places her dead husband’s ghost still lingered made it easy to forget that she was so incredibly good at this. She had time to wonder if her Captain took jobs like this to remind himself before he jogged up to her.
"Anything good?" He said, winded but moving easily despite his shoulder.
"Just basics. They weren’t out here for very long." Mal nodded, guessing as much. The coordinates had been a compromise, halved equally between two parties to ensure a totally neutral area. The men hadn’t had the time needed to arrange more sophisticated camouflage. He walked over to the hidey holes, mindful of Jayne’s work. The man was insufferable anywhere but in a shootout. They had slumped back into their cavities, each with a third bloody eye in the center of their forehead. He didn’t even bother wasting the time to pat them down. Already dead and buried, and a grave robber he was not.
"Sir?" He nodded at Zoe and she ripped the leader’s jacket off and dumped the gathered weapons into it.
"Let’s get the hell out of here." She nodded and bundled the goods up expertly, slinging the pack over one shoulder and setting out a quick jog. It was important to get back to Serenity now, to establish first contact – surprise never failed as a key battle advantage, and her mouth twisted (in the closest thing to a smile she was currently capable of) as she imagined the look on the Wiley’s faces.
"Anything good?" Jayne yelled up at them, still in a crouch near the girl and the sack.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Zoe said as she approached, Captain wheezing not far behind.
"Let’s get back to the ship." He said as he caught his breath, wincing as he moved his left arm without thinking.
"Need a dressing?" Zoe asked, once, and accepted the shake of his head. Never could get the man to tend to his wounds, and she’d long since tired of asking. He knew well enough the distance to their infirmary, and if he was in danger of passing out before reaching it he would say so.
Jayne just grunted and shouldered the pack. It was heavy, but not that bad. Scooping up the girl gently, he was worried at her slightness. Most folk, once they lost consciousness, weighed a damn ton. Dead weight, body became all kinds of awkward with flopping limbs and a lolling head. This one still hadn’t moved or made a motion of coming to. She was small enough to fit easily in his arms, and he tucked her close to his body to minimize jarring of any unseen injuries.
"You got it?" Cap’n asked once and Jayne nodded. Work on all of these muscles for a reason, he thought, but only rolled his eyes at Mal. "Let’s go." They set off at a light jog, Mal keeping his arm prone, Zoe with the spoils of war, and Jayne cupping the girl to his chest. Wouldn’t be right, leaving her there in the middle of nowhere to die of exposure after she’d (even if inadvertently) saved them all.
"All the places we’ve been, can’t never find a pretty blonde to cart back to the ship…" he mumbled under his breath, too quiet to be heard over the crunch of boots on loose gravel. "Pretty blonde on a mule with a pitcher of lemonade."
*
They reached Serenity in quick time, each thankful to be out of the quickly becoming intolerable heat.
"Lucky we found her," Mal said as they ducked into the cargo bay.
"Heatstroke, if she’d laid there through the hottest part of the day, or froze through the night." Zoe countered, dropping the weapons and heading for the com unit. There were all kinds of ways for a body to die in the desert.
"What are we gonna do with her?" Jayne asked over her announcement calling the doctor to the bay.
"We can drop her-" Mal started to say as Simon appeared through the doorway.
"Shoulder?" The dark haired man asked, spotting the blood.
"Hurts."
"Move it?" Mal demonstrated and growled at the pain. "Anybody else?" The doc said before Jayne turned around, revealing his bundle. "Oh." Simon said simply. If he was at all surprised at them coming back with an unconscious girl from the middle of nowhere he hid it well.
"Everybody ok!?" Kaylee’s voice called from above and appeared on the catwalk, wrench in hand.
"Got shot," Mal called back and she smiled weakly.
"Figured you and catchin’ a bullet on the job was implied," She managed as she hurried down the stairs. Despite the joke, she carried much concern for her Captain. Was always waiting for that one job that he just wasn’t going to come back from, that the rest of them wouldn’t come back from. "What happened-" her voice trailed off as she too caught sight of the form in Jayne’s arms. "Who is that?" She asked, shocked by the tiny body's still form and filthy state.
"Don’t rightly know," Jayne started to say before the Captain and Simon started arguing.
"Don’t need her gettin’ comfortable on my ship,"
"You can’t just leave her!"
"I can’t go nowhere with her!"
"Captain!" Both men turned at Kaylee’s near shout. The usually sunny face was hard with barely controlled anger. She didn’t need to continue, didn’t need to argue any further. Mal breathed out a hard sigh that belied the speech he didn’t have the energy to articulate. Kaylee softened, watched Simon trail the mercenary into the infirmary.
"I don’t want no trouble on account of her." Mal tried to sound commanding but his shoulder hurt too gorram hard to put much effort behind it.
"We get trouble with or without helpin’ folks," she said quietly and he clenched his jaw shut on any argument. Couldn’t refuse Kaylee much and truthfully didn’t much want to this time. Mystery Girl was running from something, true enough, and for the moment he was content to let her run with his.
"She just better not get me shot again," he tried as Kaylee started back up the stairs.
"Cap’n, you manage that one well enough on your own." His lips twisted at the smile in her voice and he nodded to himself.
"I do at that," he muttered before heading to the infirmary to let the doc dig around in his shoulder. He’d come up with a plan to deal with the no good, double crossing, cheating… (his mind thought through an impressive list of obscenities before settling on a fierce frown) Wileys after the pain meds kicked in.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-02 12:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-02 01:34 am (UTC)thanks again!!!
[loves]