It's Only a Shirt
Aug. 6th, 2006 01:19 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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firefly_fanfic
Author: ArtemisPrime
Summary: Set during "The Message", Kaylee ponders what happened when Tracey arrived.
Rating: G (I think)
Kaylee stared down at her shirt, her pretty white shirt with the colourful flowers that was now ruined. It sat on her lap as she sat on her bed, not more than four hours after her and Tracey had done the same. She had smiled at him, flirted a bit and thought he was real cute, but not real smart. Not Simon smart. She smirked. Tracey at least was honest and said that he felt something between them. All Simon could say were hurtful jokes.
Her shoulders slumped and she bit the inside of her cheek, still reeling from the emotions of the last day. It had started so well with Simon offering to show her a real alien and she in her best dress, the short one that she knew made the boys take a second look. Even Jayne’s orange hat had brought a little smile to her lips, silly as it was.
And then it went to hell and begged her to join.
Planting her feet, Kaylee took the shirt with determination. Dammit, she was going to get that blood out. Scrub it out, scrub it away. Never look on it again. She quickly climbed the stairs and headed to the kitchen.
It was strangely silent, the galley, and the mechanic was grateful. She wanted to do this in peace, to not have to explain to anyone why it was important to wash away the red.
Pulling a brush, she moistened it and the cloth and began a slow, circular rub hard into the material. Some washed away, but some parts were stubborn. They stuck in hard, not wanting to let go. She rubbed faster, harder, her arm beginning to burn with the motion. She pushed and pulled at the fabric, willing away the stain, but it wouldn’t listen. More water, more pressure, but it stayed, taunting her.
With a final jab, she gave a small yell and threw the shirt into the sink and rested her hands on its edge. Why did it happen? Why did she get herself into a situation that only showed her to be weak?
Those situations were getting worse. This time there was blood. Maybe next time, it might be hers. Or maybe something far more horrifying than blood.
"Kaylee?"
She wiped her nose then looked up to see Mal at the doorway from the crew quarters. "Yeah, Cap’n?" She stepped back from the sink and wiped her hands on her coveralls.
"You okay?" He was now at her side, a hand light on her shoulder. "Heard ya yell."
She nodded. "I’m fine." Her voice was subdued.
Mal spied the bloodied shirt and looked to her hands, wrinkled and red. He grasped them in his own, with a gentleness that made her draw her breath in. "It don’t come out, mei-mei. Blood don’t ever come out."
Kaylee looked at her hands enveloped by his and nodded again. "Knowed that." She looked to his eyes and saw that they were a bit glassy and red. "It’s just...I didn’t want..." Her brow knitted tightly.
He smiled lightly then pulled her into a hug. "It’s only a shirt, Kaylee. Ain’t nothin’ but a bit of covering. Doesn’t mean a gorram thing."
She breathed in, smelling the faint trace of his leather coat clinging to his shirt mixed with his own scent. She felt the worn fabric rubbing against her cheek, a small barrier to the heat radiating into her. It was comforting.
They both understood that Mal didn’t believe what he had said. It did mean something, for both of them. And he was afraid of what that was.
A/N: the ending was left purposely vague.
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