F: All Well
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Implied Wash/Zoe, implied Simon/Kaylee
Warnings: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: Mal does the rounds.
It's been a long day. The rest of the crew are all in bed -- or he damn well hopes they are: there're only a few hours left of what's nominally night on Serenity. ("'Day' is a vestigial mode of time measurement, based on solar cycles," River's voice says, in his head, clear as if she's whispering it into his ear. "It's not applicable." He's damn glad that that's nothing but a memory -- fond of River as he is, she's unsettlin', and that would be something like the last straw.)
He should be in bed too, he supposes. But this was a close one -- they've had too many close ones. He's seen Kaylee and Simon taking up arms too many times now, as if every day they spend on Serenity draws them more into his world, the world of guns and blood and battle.
It's like an itch he can't scratch. No use in worryin' over the thought. He reaches over and straightens one of Wash's dinosaurs. The cost of his world is too high. But for now -- for now, they're still flying, and the skies are clear.
He gets up and leaves the bridge, leaving the autopilot in charge. Serenity seems chilled, dark, with none of the crew up and moving around. He stops in front of Kaylee's bunk -- the bright sign on the door, the little blinking lights. Can't help but smile, just to think of Kaylee. Quietly, he opens the hatch and climbs down, to see everything's okay. He remembers belatedly about her and the doctor, but it don't matter: Kaylee's sleeping alone tonight. She looks even younger in sleep. There's a smudge of oil on her cheekbone and the covers have half fallen off her. Mal drags them back over her before he leaves again.
"Sleep well, little Kaylee," he says, softly, as he closes the hatch again. His throat squeezes tight with affection for a moment. If anything ever happens to her -- he shakes the thought away. Nothing'll happen to her: he'd die first.
He pauses outside Jayne's bunk, listening. He's snoring loud enough to be heard even outside, with the hatch closed. Mal doesn't try climbing down to check on him: he don't need checking, and besides, he has no pressing need to get shot by a trigger-happy Jayne.
Zoe's room, next. He hesitates, but he does go down: she has enough sense not to shoot him. She's lying in bed on her back: in the dim light, something glistens on her face. Tears, he thinks, and thinks of a dinosaur at a crazily skewed angle, of leaves on the wind.
"Sir?" she asks. There's no sleep in her voice. "Somethin' wrong?"
"Just checkin' all's well," he says, awkwardly.
"Well enough," she says, softly. He tries to think of something to say, somethin' comforting -- but there's nothing, and so he climbs back up and closes the hatch behind him. He goes quickly now, through the living area, to the passenger berths Simon and River still occupy. Simon's room is empty, though the bedcovers are ruffled and his clothes are folded and neat on the floor.
Mal slides that door shut. He isn't worried, exactly, but he's still relieved to see Simon there when he opens the door to River's room to see him laying curled up in River's bed. River is holding him, her eyes closed. They look peaceful, despite everything, despite a graze on Simon's cheek and a bloody bandage wrapped around River's arm.
River's eyes open slowly. She doesn't say anything, but she nods, and smiles. Her arms are around Simon, as if she's protecting him.
Mal smiles back; steps back. He closes the door quietly behind him.
It wouldn't seem right not to go to the shuttle to finish his rounds, though things are awkward between him and Inara. She still hasn't said if she'll be going away again soon, though the shuttle is again draped with her frippery. He doesn't open the door, but stands outside, his hand on it. He fancies he can hear her breathing.
All's well. For now, for this day (a day is a vestigial mode of time measurement; it's not applicable), for the next little while. They'll get by.
They'll keep flying.
Pairing: Implied Wash/Zoe, implied Simon/Kaylee
Warnings: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: Mal does the rounds.
It's been a long day. The rest of the crew are all in bed -- or he damn well hopes they are: there're only a few hours left of what's nominally night on Serenity. ("'Day' is a vestigial mode of time measurement, based on solar cycles," River's voice says, in his head, clear as if she's whispering it into his ear. "It's not applicable." He's damn glad that that's nothing but a memory -- fond of River as he is, she's unsettlin', and that would be something like the last straw.)
He should be in bed too, he supposes. But this was a close one -- they've had too many close ones. He's seen Kaylee and Simon taking up arms too many times now, as if every day they spend on Serenity draws them more into his world, the world of guns and blood and battle.
It's like an itch he can't scratch. No use in worryin' over the thought. He reaches over and straightens one of Wash's dinosaurs. The cost of his world is too high. But for now -- for now, they're still flying, and the skies are clear.
He gets up and leaves the bridge, leaving the autopilot in charge. Serenity seems chilled, dark, with none of the crew up and moving around. He stops in front of Kaylee's bunk -- the bright sign on the door, the little blinking lights. Can't help but smile, just to think of Kaylee. Quietly, he opens the hatch and climbs down, to see everything's okay. He remembers belatedly about her and the doctor, but it don't matter: Kaylee's sleeping alone tonight. She looks even younger in sleep. There's a smudge of oil on her cheekbone and the covers have half fallen off her. Mal drags them back over her before he leaves again.
"Sleep well, little Kaylee," he says, softly, as he closes the hatch again. His throat squeezes tight with affection for a moment. If anything ever happens to her -- he shakes the thought away. Nothing'll happen to her: he'd die first.
He pauses outside Jayne's bunk, listening. He's snoring loud enough to be heard even outside, with the hatch closed. Mal doesn't try climbing down to check on him: he don't need checking, and besides, he has no pressing need to get shot by a trigger-happy Jayne.
Zoe's room, next. He hesitates, but he does go down: she has enough sense not to shoot him. She's lying in bed on her back: in the dim light, something glistens on her face. Tears, he thinks, and thinks of a dinosaur at a crazily skewed angle, of leaves on the wind.
"Sir?" she asks. There's no sleep in her voice. "Somethin' wrong?"
"Just checkin' all's well," he says, awkwardly.
"Well enough," she says, softly. He tries to think of something to say, somethin' comforting -- but there's nothing, and so he climbs back up and closes the hatch behind him. He goes quickly now, through the living area, to the passenger berths Simon and River still occupy. Simon's room is empty, though the bedcovers are ruffled and his clothes are folded and neat on the floor.
Mal slides that door shut. He isn't worried, exactly, but he's still relieved to see Simon there when he opens the door to River's room to see him laying curled up in River's bed. River is holding him, her eyes closed. They look peaceful, despite everything, despite a graze on Simon's cheek and a bloody bandage wrapped around River's arm.
River's eyes open slowly. She doesn't say anything, but she nods, and smiles. Her arms are around Simon, as if she's protecting him.
Mal smiles back; steps back. He closes the door quietly behind him.
It wouldn't seem right not to go to the shuttle to finish his rounds, though things are awkward between him and Inara. She still hasn't said if she'll be going away again soon, though the shuttle is again draped with her frippery. He doesn't open the door, but stands outside, his hand on it. He fancies he can hear her breathing.
All's well. For now, for this day (a day is a vestigial mode of time measurement; it's not applicable), for the next little while. They'll get by.
They'll keep flying.