F: Wooden Horses (2)
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: eventual Mal/Simon, eventual Jayne/Kaylee
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: When something gets taken from you, you have to take it back. (2/10)
Note: Warnings and ratings from now on go chapter by chapter.
The helm seemed a strange place when he never found River there, curled up in a chair or moving the controls, muttering obscurely. Stranger still for Mal to sit there on his own, watching the stars slide by all through the night, without one odd comment or off-kilter conversation. It seemed colder, somehow, though that was stupid -- he knew the temperature was the same as ever, bar the heat from one small body, which couldn't make that much of a difference. He leaned forward, checking that he hadn't missed a message or something. He knew he hadn't, the way he'd been watching for it, but...
He could hear steps coming along the corridor behind him. Somehow, he already knew it was Simon, even before the boy drew breath to speak. Or perhaps that weren't all that surprising -- the boy walked soft, but nothing like Zoe or Jayne, who made it their business to walk softly. "Doc," he said, quietly, twisting round to look at him.
"Captain," Simon said. He took a deep breath. "Is there any news? Any trace of them?"
"Not a one. But we will get your sister back, don't worry on that."
"I've never doubted that," Simon said, with the faintest trace of a smile. "At least not since Jiangyin and Ariel, anyway."
"Surprised you remember that so fondly. I did leave you, and you did get betrayed."
"But you came back. And... things turned out for the best." He shrugged.
"Suppose they did."
Mal turned back to look at the controls in front of him, and at the sprinkling of stars and the black beyond the window. He expected to hear Simon turn around and go back down to his own room. It was late, after all. But the doc didn't move for a while, and when he did, it was to sit down in the other seat -- a mite tentative, as if not sure of his welcome. Mal glanced at him, tossed him a quick smile.
"Not going to bed?"
Simon didn't answer that. "Have you been sleeping?"
"Not really," Mal admitted, looking back out of the window. "Can't, when my crew's in bits like this. And someone needs to watch out for any complications. And for any word of River and Zoe."
"Do you think they'll be okay?"
"We don't know what they took 'em for, or even who they were." Mal shrugged. "Can't figure why they would've dragged Zoe along if they intended to just kill her, though, and they obviously wanted your sis in one piece if they just injected her and didn't use the tried and true method of giving her a whack on the head. So... I reckon they'll be alright. For now. Might be that when they find out we're followin', Zoe won't be so alright, but that's a risk we gotta take. That's in one o' them myths too, ain't it?"
"What is?"
"Somethin' about a golden fleece, and some woman. She fell in love with some hero and helped him steal the fleece, and then off they sailed. Took her brother with her and when her father chased 'em, she cut her brother to bits and threw the bits in the sea, forced her father to stop and gather up the bits."
Simon shuddered a little. "So they'll use threatening Zoe to slow us down?"
"More than likely."
"It surprises me how much you know about those ancient myths."
"It was the one class that kept me interested. Heroes, and such foolishness."
"And now you're a hero," Simon said, smiling a bit.
"Hardly. I'm a mean old captain, just getting by."
"That's what you pretend to be. You're not old. Or mean, come to that."
"Flattery gets you everywhere," Mal said. He couldn't help grinning anyway. "You should get some sleep, anyway. Won't do your sister no good staying up like this, worryin' yourself into an early grave."
"No," Simon said, but he didn't move. Mal glanced at him, and saw that the look on his face had slipped back into the old worry, that yearning had crept back in. He didn't have to wonder what the boy was thinking about. His thoughts were with his sister, like he couldn't function without her. Codependent, the both of them. Simon, defining himself by River, and River...
Mal shook his head and turned back to the controls. There was no point in trying to order Simon to bed. He wouldn't listen, and if by some miracle he did, he probably wouldn't sleep anyway. And it wasn't so bad having him there, anyway. The silence between them was almost... comfortable. Things'd been better since Miranda -- less of the arguments, and more of... this. This strange, quiet connection that they'd touched on before sometimes, when Mal had asked about River and Simon had spoken of his troubles, when he'd told the boy that he was crew and that was that, when... Well, it didn't make no sense to dwell on it. It was a good thing, a comfortable thing, and that was as far as you needed to think on it. It seemed a fragile thing to Mal, something that you just had to let be and wait for and not push, lest your push be the one that tumbled it down.
He'd miss it, if it finally went away. He'd never thought to have anything in common with Simon, he'd never thought -- but there he went again, thinking on somethin' that don't need thinking about. Simon's crew, and that's that.
"You need to get more sleep, too," Simon said, quietly, breaking the silence. It was easier for him, Mal guessed, to think about what other people needed.
"Don't have the time, nor the inclination."
"I thought so. If I thought you'd listen to me, I'd give you doctor's orders to go to bed, but..."
"This is one boat on which doctors don't rule," Mal said, but he smiled. "Although I was just thinkin' that if I thought you'd listen, I'd order you to bed. As it is, I'm preservin' my dignity."
"You're right, though. I should get some sleep."
"Does that mean that if I order you to bed, you'll listen?"
There was almost a smile on Simon's face. "I can see the sense of this order."
Mal raised his eyebrows. "Are you implyin' my other orders ain't so sensible, doc?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say a thing like that," Simon said, and that surely was a smile. Mal smiled back, getting up.
"Well, I reckon that I'll take the opportunity to have the novel experience of you listenin' to me. Time for bed, doc. I'll walk you to your room."
"Making sure I obey?"
"Somethin' like that. That, and I want to check on the others on my way back. Little Kaylee's surely worryin' as much as we are."
"Jayne's probably the only one sleeping fine."
"That man could sleep through anythin'. Sometimes I envy him that."
"Only sometimes?" Simon asked, looking back over his shoulder at Mal as they moved off the bridge, down through the corridor.
"Yeah. Once in a while, if you sleep like him you're sure to miss out on the fun. Like he did when that bounty hunter came on board. He was right disappointed about not bein' there to see you get shot."
"Ah, the good old days."
"Sarcasm? From you?"
"Never," Simon said. He was smiling again, and Mal was somehow glad of it. He was tired of that strained look on the boy's face, no matter how justified it was. He looked about an inch from breaking most of the time now. He stopped when Simon slid open the door to his room.
"You'll sleep now, then?"
The smile is tired now. "What are you going to do if I don't? Keel haul me for insubordination?"
"Seems like a good idea to me," Mal said, smiling back. "Go on. Get some shut eye. Hopefully in the mornin' I'll have good news for you."
Simon nodded. He didn't seem to hold out much hope of getting either of those things, but he slid his door shut behind him anyway. Mal stood outside it for a moment, wondering if there was anything else he could be doing to help Simon, wondering... He shook his head. If Simon needed something, he'd surely say so. He turned, walked quickly away, turning his thoughts to other people -- people who probably needed him more. As he got close to the engine room, he could hear sobbing over the noise of the engine, and he knew he'd been right. Simon might be in a bad place right now, but he could be as aloof as the proudest Siamese cat, and as prickly when pushed as a gorramn hedgehog. Kaylee, though...
"Kaylee? Everythin' okay?"
"Cap'n," she said, hiccuping despite -- or perhaps because of -- a heroic effort to turn off the waterworks. He crouched down next to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
"Want to come and have a drink with me, and talk about it?"
She made a doubtful face, even through her tears. "Do we have anything decent?"
"Maligning your own brewing, meimei?"
"Just a little," she said, taking the hand he offered and letting him help her up. "I'm up for a drink if we've got anything that tastes halfway decent."
"I think we've got something left over," he said, smiling at her. "Dry those tears now, hm? Plenty of time to tell me what's wrong in a minute."
She nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm okay now, cap'n. Just... It's all kinda getting to me, I guess."
"It's getting to all of us, I reckon. Well. Maybe not Jayne. The rest of us, though. You an' me an' Simon. Ain't been sleepin', I suspect him of not eating right, and there's you not bein' your usual cheerful self..." Mal shrugged, pushing her gently toward a chair when they reached the galley. "Let's see about this alcohol. If I hadn't ordered him to bed, I'd drag Simon in for some of this. Might get him to loosen up a bit."
"He does relax a good bit when he's drunk," Kaylee agreed, flopping down into her seat. "Smiles more. He's got a right pretty smile sometimes."
"That he has," Mal said, before he thought about it. He clamped his mouth shut after that, rifling through the cupboard to find whatever was left of the alcohol. Kaylee, wisely, didn't comment.
"He should be taking better care of himself," she said, instead. "He won't really let me look after him. He's so stubborn, and..."
"I'll look after him," Mal said, also before he thought. But he smiled at Kaylee. "I'm at least twice as stubborn, aren't I?"
She laughed, then. "I don't know -- sometimes, he could give you a run for your money."
"If money's involved, there's nobody in the 'verse more stubborn than me."
"That's true. Most of the time, anyway. You have to look after yourself, too, though."
Mal huffed. "So everybody keeps telling me. The day Jayne says it, I know I'm doomed."
"Don't say that, cap'n," she said, quietly.
"Alright, then, I won't. But now I've finally found the alcohol, so let's have that drink I was talking about." He sat down, pouring them each a glass. "We haven't got much of the decent stuff left, so let's enjoy it while we can. How's your arm?"
"That's... part of the problem I guess," she said, huffing softly. She picked up her glass, looking down at it. "What if I need to do something with the engine and I can't...?"
"Don't worry 'bout that. Jayne's got just about enough of a brain to help you out on that score."
"You shouldn't be so mean about him all the time, cap'n. He's smarter than he'd let on, and he can be real sweet sometimes."
Mal opened his mouth to answer that, and then, instead, picked up his glass and took a good long swallow. "Well -- "
Kaylee cocked her head slightly. "You hear that?"
He blinked. "Wha -- oh!" He stood up, quickly. The alarm he'd rigged for if anything went on while he wasn't near the helm, or if he'd fallen asleep there. "I'd better go and attend to that, even if it's probably nothing. You finish up your drink and go to bed, you hear me?"
"Yes, dad," she said, laughing. Mal tried to look more or less nonchalent as he left her there and headed for the helm -- surely she'd guess that it'd be news, but... there'd be no use in getting hopes up for something that might, after all, be nothing.
It was hard to be nonchalant when his heart was in his mouth. News. That could be anything -- a contact, some kind of ransom note, a warning. Could even be Zoe and River, having done their supergirl stuff and taken over. Zoe'd surely kick him for that thought -- the supergirl part of it, anyway.
No good getting too hopeful. He made himself sit down before he checked the various panels and buttons and blinking lights.
"Captain Reynolds?"
A message, then. No picture, just the voice. Someone with somethin' to hide, then -- not that that meant much. Everyone had something to hide, as far as Mal could tell. "That's me. Who might you be?"
"A friend of a friend."
Mal raised an eyebrow. "Which friend might that be?"
"Actually, 'friend of a friend' is exaggerating a bit. I'm Badger's successor. Heard you were in a bit of trouble." There was a smirk in the voice somewhere. "Thought you might appreciate a little help -- and pay me back in kind sometime."
"Surprised you're speaking to me your own self. Thought delegation was the key?"
A sigh -- exaggerated irritation, no doubt. "I'm not fond of games, captain. Whatever your relationship with Badger, you've done good work for him in the past. I'd like to think I can count on you."
"You probably can -- to a point. Speaking of points, how about you get round to yours?" Mal shifted in his chair, holding back a sigh of his own. He'd have liked to be able to inform this guy he had no time for said games, himself, but the truth is, this is the first inkling that anyone might know anything about River and Zoe's whereabouts. Right now, he has to seize that chance, such as it is, with both hands. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't, in fact.
"I hear you have two missing crew members. That's the word, anyway. And that you're tracking a boat called the Magpie -- somewhat unsuccessfully. Now, I know that boat."
"Interestin', but that much doesn't buy you anythin'."
"Has anyone ever told you patience is a virtue, captain?"
"Yes. Usually time-wasters and people who don't know as much as they're claimin' to know."
"I'm hurt you think so little of me," Badger's supposed successor said, dryly. "As it happens, I don't know much more than that, but I do know your current coordinates and that you're but a stone's throw away from a certain abandoned place they use as a base often. I've transmitted details about that to you, as a show of good faith."
"But I'm to remember I owe you a favour, right?"
"It would be appreciated."
"Well, you seem to have done as you say, so if anythin' comes of it, I'll remember I owe you a little favour."
"I suppose that's the best I can hope for," the man said. "I wish you luck with retrieving your crew members, Captain Reynolds. A word of advice though -- try and keep your eye on them and don't mislay them next time, hm?"
The transmission ended, abruptly, before Mal could even open his mouth to reply. He scowled at the innocent screen to vent his feelings and then leaned forward to get a look at the information the guy'd sent.
"Was that about the girls?"
Mal flinched, and tried not to. "Jayne!"
"Scared ya?" The bastard was smirking. Mal glared at him a little and then shrugged.
"It might've been. It's something to follow up, anyway."
"Good. We've been too gorramn long without knowin' anythin'. I'm gettin' real restless."
"Itching for a fight?"
Jayne rolled his eyes. "I don't fight if I don't have to. I'm worryin' about crazy girl, though. Think she'll be alright? Think we'll get to her on time? An' if we do, think she'll be... alright in the head? And doc's not lookin' so good, either..."
"You're all doubtin' me. Don't doubt me." Mal twisted slightly, looking up at Jayne. "We've come through worse than this. We'll find her, and she'll be fine, and she'll ask us what took us so long and run back on board and right into her brother's arms. The end."
"That's got a bit too little fightin' in it to be the end, judgin' from recent history."
"It's an idealistic dream, I'll give you that," Mal admitted. "Since when did you worry on the Tams so much, anyway?"
"Miranda," Jayne said, and then closed his mouth firmly, like there was no way Mal'd get him to say a word more. Mal figured no more words were necessary. He nodded slightly.
"Miranda."
"I'm goin' to bed. There'd better be good news in the mornin' -- or at least somethin' to do."
Mal nodded again. "I'll see what I can do. Sleep well, Jayne."
Jayne made some kind of scornful noise, probably aimed at pleasantries, but when he was halfway down the corridor to his own bunk, he did mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'goodnight'.
Pairing: eventual Mal/Simon, eventual Jayne/Kaylee
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: When something gets taken from you, you have to take it back. (2/10)
Note: Warnings and ratings from now on go chapter by chapter.
The helm seemed a strange place when he never found River there, curled up in a chair or moving the controls, muttering obscurely. Stranger still for Mal to sit there on his own, watching the stars slide by all through the night, without one odd comment or off-kilter conversation. It seemed colder, somehow, though that was stupid -- he knew the temperature was the same as ever, bar the heat from one small body, which couldn't make that much of a difference. He leaned forward, checking that he hadn't missed a message or something. He knew he hadn't, the way he'd been watching for it, but...
He could hear steps coming along the corridor behind him. Somehow, he already knew it was Simon, even before the boy drew breath to speak. Or perhaps that weren't all that surprising -- the boy walked soft, but nothing like Zoe or Jayne, who made it their business to walk softly. "Doc," he said, quietly, twisting round to look at him.
"Captain," Simon said. He took a deep breath. "Is there any news? Any trace of them?"
"Not a one. But we will get your sister back, don't worry on that."
"I've never doubted that," Simon said, with the faintest trace of a smile. "At least not since Jiangyin and Ariel, anyway."
"Surprised you remember that so fondly. I did leave you, and you did get betrayed."
"But you came back. And... things turned out for the best." He shrugged.
"Suppose they did."
Mal turned back to look at the controls in front of him, and at the sprinkling of stars and the black beyond the window. He expected to hear Simon turn around and go back down to his own room. It was late, after all. But the doc didn't move for a while, and when he did, it was to sit down in the other seat -- a mite tentative, as if not sure of his welcome. Mal glanced at him, tossed him a quick smile.
"Not going to bed?"
Simon didn't answer that. "Have you been sleeping?"
"Not really," Mal admitted, looking back out of the window. "Can't, when my crew's in bits like this. And someone needs to watch out for any complications. And for any word of River and Zoe."
"Do you think they'll be okay?"
"We don't know what they took 'em for, or even who they were." Mal shrugged. "Can't figure why they would've dragged Zoe along if they intended to just kill her, though, and they obviously wanted your sis in one piece if they just injected her and didn't use the tried and true method of giving her a whack on the head. So... I reckon they'll be alright. For now. Might be that when they find out we're followin', Zoe won't be so alright, but that's a risk we gotta take. That's in one o' them myths too, ain't it?"
"What is?"
"Somethin' about a golden fleece, and some woman. She fell in love with some hero and helped him steal the fleece, and then off they sailed. Took her brother with her and when her father chased 'em, she cut her brother to bits and threw the bits in the sea, forced her father to stop and gather up the bits."
Simon shuddered a little. "So they'll use threatening Zoe to slow us down?"
"More than likely."
"It surprises me how much you know about those ancient myths."
"It was the one class that kept me interested. Heroes, and such foolishness."
"And now you're a hero," Simon said, smiling a bit.
"Hardly. I'm a mean old captain, just getting by."
"That's what you pretend to be. You're not old. Or mean, come to that."
"Flattery gets you everywhere," Mal said. He couldn't help grinning anyway. "You should get some sleep, anyway. Won't do your sister no good staying up like this, worryin' yourself into an early grave."
"No," Simon said, but he didn't move. Mal glanced at him, and saw that the look on his face had slipped back into the old worry, that yearning had crept back in. He didn't have to wonder what the boy was thinking about. His thoughts were with his sister, like he couldn't function without her. Codependent, the both of them. Simon, defining himself by River, and River...
Mal shook his head and turned back to the controls. There was no point in trying to order Simon to bed. He wouldn't listen, and if by some miracle he did, he probably wouldn't sleep anyway. And it wasn't so bad having him there, anyway. The silence between them was almost... comfortable. Things'd been better since Miranda -- less of the arguments, and more of... this. This strange, quiet connection that they'd touched on before sometimes, when Mal had asked about River and Simon had spoken of his troubles, when he'd told the boy that he was crew and that was that, when... Well, it didn't make no sense to dwell on it. It was a good thing, a comfortable thing, and that was as far as you needed to think on it. It seemed a fragile thing to Mal, something that you just had to let be and wait for and not push, lest your push be the one that tumbled it down.
He'd miss it, if it finally went away. He'd never thought to have anything in common with Simon, he'd never thought -- but there he went again, thinking on somethin' that don't need thinking about. Simon's crew, and that's that.
"You need to get more sleep, too," Simon said, quietly, breaking the silence. It was easier for him, Mal guessed, to think about what other people needed.
"Don't have the time, nor the inclination."
"I thought so. If I thought you'd listen to me, I'd give you doctor's orders to go to bed, but..."
"This is one boat on which doctors don't rule," Mal said, but he smiled. "Although I was just thinkin' that if I thought you'd listen, I'd order you to bed. As it is, I'm preservin' my dignity."
"You're right, though. I should get some sleep."
"Does that mean that if I order you to bed, you'll listen?"
There was almost a smile on Simon's face. "I can see the sense of this order."
Mal raised his eyebrows. "Are you implyin' my other orders ain't so sensible, doc?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say a thing like that," Simon said, and that surely was a smile. Mal smiled back, getting up.
"Well, I reckon that I'll take the opportunity to have the novel experience of you listenin' to me. Time for bed, doc. I'll walk you to your room."
"Making sure I obey?"
"Somethin' like that. That, and I want to check on the others on my way back. Little Kaylee's surely worryin' as much as we are."
"Jayne's probably the only one sleeping fine."
"That man could sleep through anythin'. Sometimes I envy him that."
"Only sometimes?" Simon asked, looking back over his shoulder at Mal as they moved off the bridge, down through the corridor.
"Yeah. Once in a while, if you sleep like him you're sure to miss out on the fun. Like he did when that bounty hunter came on board. He was right disappointed about not bein' there to see you get shot."
"Ah, the good old days."
"Sarcasm? From you?"
"Never," Simon said. He was smiling again, and Mal was somehow glad of it. He was tired of that strained look on the boy's face, no matter how justified it was. He looked about an inch from breaking most of the time now. He stopped when Simon slid open the door to his room.
"You'll sleep now, then?"
The smile is tired now. "What are you going to do if I don't? Keel haul me for insubordination?"
"Seems like a good idea to me," Mal said, smiling back. "Go on. Get some shut eye. Hopefully in the mornin' I'll have good news for you."
Simon nodded. He didn't seem to hold out much hope of getting either of those things, but he slid his door shut behind him anyway. Mal stood outside it for a moment, wondering if there was anything else he could be doing to help Simon, wondering... He shook his head. If Simon needed something, he'd surely say so. He turned, walked quickly away, turning his thoughts to other people -- people who probably needed him more. As he got close to the engine room, he could hear sobbing over the noise of the engine, and he knew he'd been right. Simon might be in a bad place right now, but he could be as aloof as the proudest Siamese cat, and as prickly when pushed as a gorramn hedgehog. Kaylee, though...
"Kaylee? Everythin' okay?"
"Cap'n," she said, hiccuping despite -- or perhaps because of -- a heroic effort to turn off the waterworks. He crouched down next to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
"Want to come and have a drink with me, and talk about it?"
She made a doubtful face, even through her tears. "Do we have anything decent?"
"Maligning your own brewing, meimei?"
"Just a little," she said, taking the hand he offered and letting him help her up. "I'm up for a drink if we've got anything that tastes halfway decent."
"I think we've got something left over," he said, smiling at her. "Dry those tears now, hm? Plenty of time to tell me what's wrong in a minute."
She nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm okay now, cap'n. Just... It's all kinda getting to me, I guess."
"It's getting to all of us, I reckon. Well. Maybe not Jayne. The rest of us, though. You an' me an' Simon. Ain't been sleepin', I suspect him of not eating right, and there's you not bein' your usual cheerful self..." Mal shrugged, pushing her gently toward a chair when they reached the galley. "Let's see about this alcohol. If I hadn't ordered him to bed, I'd drag Simon in for some of this. Might get him to loosen up a bit."
"He does relax a good bit when he's drunk," Kaylee agreed, flopping down into her seat. "Smiles more. He's got a right pretty smile sometimes."
"That he has," Mal said, before he thought about it. He clamped his mouth shut after that, rifling through the cupboard to find whatever was left of the alcohol. Kaylee, wisely, didn't comment.
"He should be taking better care of himself," she said, instead. "He won't really let me look after him. He's so stubborn, and..."
"I'll look after him," Mal said, also before he thought. But he smiled at Kaylee. "I'm at least twice as stubborn, aren't I?"
She laughed, then. "I don't know -- sometimes, he could give you a run for your money."
"If money's involved, there's nobody in the 'verse more stubborn than me."
"That's true. Most of the time, anyway. You have to look after yourself, too, though."
Mal huffed. "So everybody keeps telling me. The day Jayne says it, I know I'm doomed."
"Don't say that, cap'n," she said, quietly.
"Alright, then, I won't. But now I've finally found the alcohol, so let's have that drink I was talking about." He sat down, pouring them each a glass. "We haven't got much of the decent stuff left, so let's enjoy it while we can. How's your arm?"
"That's... part of the problem I guess," she said, huffing softly. She picked up her glass, looking down at it. "What if I need to do something with the engine and I can't...?"
"Don't worry 'bout that. Jayne's got just about enough of a brain to help you out on that score."
"You shouldn't be so mean about him all the time, cap'n. He's smarter than he'd let on, and he can be real sweet sometimes."
Mal opened his mouth to answer that, and then, instead, picked up his glass and took a good long swallow. "Well -- "
Kaylee cocked her head slightly. "You hear that?"
He blinked. "Wha -- oh!" He stood up, quickly. The alarm he'd rigged for if anything went on while he wasn't near the helm, or if he'd fallen asleep there. "I'd better go and attend to that, even if it's probably nothing. You finish up your drink and go to bed, you hear me?"
"Yes, dad," she said, laughing. Mal tried to look more or less nonchalent as he left her there and headed for the helm -- surely she'd guess that it'd be news, but... there'd be no use in getting hopes up for something that might, after all, be nothing.
It was hard to be nonchalant when his heart was in his mouth. News. That could be anything -- a contact, some kind of ransom note, a warning. Could even be Zoe and River, having done their supergirl stuff and taken over. Zoe'd surely kick him for that thought -- the supergirl part of it, anyway.
No good getting too hopeful. He made himself sit down before he checked the various panels and buttons and blinking lights.
"Captain Reynolds?"
A message, then. No picture, just the voice. Someone with somethin' to hide, then -- not that that meant much. Everyone had something to hide, as far as Mal could tell. "That's me. Who might you be?"
"A friend of a friend."
Mal raised an eyebrow. "Which friend might that be?"
"Actually, 'friend of a friend' is exaggerating a bit. I'm Badger's successor. Heard you were in a bit of trouble." There was a smirk in the voice somewhere. "Thought you might appreciate a little help -- and pay me back in kind sometime."
"Surprised you're speaking to me your own self. Thought delegation was the key?"
A sigh -- exaggerated irritation, no doubt. "I'm not fond of games, captain. Whatever your relationship with Badger, you've done good work for him in the past. I'd like to think I can count on you."
"You probably can -- to a point. Speaking of points, how about you get round to yours?" Mal shifted in his chair, holding back a sigh of his own. He'd have liked to be able to inform this guy he had no time for said games, himself, but the truth is, this is the first inkling that anyone might know anything about River and Zoe's whereabouts. Right now, he has to seize that chance, such as it is, with both hands. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't, in fact.
"I hear you have two missing crew members. That's the word, anyway. And that you're tracking a boat called the Magpie -- somewhat unsuccessfully. Now, I know that boat."
"Interestin', but that much doesn't buy you anythin'."
"Has anyone ever told you patience is a virtue, captain?"
"Yes. Usually time-wasters and people who don't know as much as they're claimin' to know."
"I'm hurt you think so little of me," Badger's supposed successor said, dryly. "As it happens, I don't know much more than that, but I do know your current coordinates and that you're but a stone's throw away from a certain abandoned place they use as a base often. I've transmitted details about that to you, as a show of good faith."
"But I'm to remember I owe you a favour, right?"
"It would be appreciated."
"Well, you seem to have done as you say, so if anythin' comes of it, I'll remember I owe you a little favour."
"I suppose that's the best I can hope for," the man said. "I wish you luck with retrieving your crew members, Captain Reynolds. A word of advice though -- try and keep your eye on them and don't mislay them next time, hm?"
The transmission ended, abruptly, before Mal could even open his mouth to reply. He scowled at the innocent screen to vent his feelings and then leaned forward to get a look at the information the guy'd sent.
"Was that about the girls?"
Mal flinched, and tried not to. "Jayne!"
"Scared ya?" The bastard was smirking. Mal glared at him a little and then shrugged.
"It might've been. It's something to follow up, anyway."
"Good. We've been too gorramn long without knowin' anythin'. I'm gettin' real restless."
"Itching for a fight?"
Jayne rolled his eyes. "I don't fight if I don't have to. I'm worryin' about crazy girl, though. Think she'll be alright? Think we'll get to her on time? An' if we do, think she'll be... alright in the head? And doc's not lookin' so good, either..."
"You're all doubtin' me. Don't doubt me." Mal twisted slightly, looking up at Jayne. "We've come through worse than this. We'll find her, and she'll be fine, and she'll ask us what took us so long and run back on board and right into her brother's arms. The end."
"That's got a bit too little fightin' in it to be the end, judgin' from recent history."
"It's an idealistic dream, I'll give you that," Mal admitted. "Since when did you worry on the Tams so much, anyway?"
"Miranda," Jayne said, and then closed his mouth firmly, like there was no way Mal'd get him to say a word more. Mal figured no more words were necessary. He nodded slightly.
"Miranda."
"I'm goin' to bed. There'd better be good news in the mornin' -- or at least somethin' to do."
Mal nodded again. "I'll see what I can do. Sleep well, Jayne."
Jayne made some kind of scornful noise, probably aimed at pleasantries, but when he was halfway down the corridor to his own bunk, he did mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'goodnight'.