To Leave A Life Behind
Title: To Leave A Life Behind
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~2620
Characters, Pairing: Kaylee/Chief, Simon, Mal, Zoë, Jayne
Summary: Since they’d arrived in this corner of the ‘verse, the Final Five and the rebel cylons (hell, even the Ones, Fours, and Fives that survived the escape from the Cruiser) had done nothing but try to live out their lives unseen, unheard.
A/N: Thanks to the amazing
lls_mutant for the beta!
Relief flooded over Tyrol as he stepped out of the cargo bay and onto solid ground; he closed his eyes and allowed the real sunlight wash over him. The planet’s air was warm (sweaty, even), but it felt good in his lungs nonetheless. Turning his head, he looked back into the bay, just as Kaylee appeared on the catwalk. “Got the list?” he called up to her.
“Shi,” Kaylee replied, presenting the paper as she scampered down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her.
A grin crossed his face as he turned back towards the port and the flurry of people, ships, carts, cargo, and sand that stretched out before him- until his view was cut off by the large mass of a person that was Jayne stepping in front of him. “Where d’ya think yer goin’?”
“Shopping,” he said, adjusting the canvas satchel on his shoulder as further emphasis of the fact. “Unless you think you can live off air until the next time we make port, in which case-”
“Kaylee can do ‘t.” Jayne glanced sideways at the mechanic as she appeared at his side, before leveling a glare at Tyrol, taking full advantage of the height difference between them. “Yer stayin’ on the ship.”
Tyrol took a step back, keeping eye contact with the mercenary but refusing to have to crane his neck to look up at him. “Unless something damn tragic happened to both the Captain and Zoë in the last twenty minutes, I don’t have to listen to you.”
A firm grip against his shoulder alerted him to aforementioned Captain who had stepped up beside him. “Sorry, Chief.” Tyrol sometimes wondered if Mal actually knew his name, the way he clung to that old title. “You’re stayin’ here.”
“Guai guai long de dong? You’ve got to be kidding me! I haven’t been off this frakking ship since Persephone.” He waved his arm, gesturing back towards the ship. He had a few choice words he would’ve liked to call Serenity to emphasize his point, but thought better of it knowing Kaylee was standing right beside him.
Jayne scoffed. “Though y’d be used to that. Weren’t you putterin’ ‘round in space fer three years ‘fore we took yer sorry ass on board?”
“Bi zui,” Mal snapped, stepping between the men. “Son, I’m doin’ this as a favor to you and your bride-to-be. For now, you ain’t leavin’ the boat.”
“For now,” Tyrol echoed with a slight nod. “And just how long is that going to be, Captain? I’m not stupid. I know I’m a wanted man, but if I wanted to be locked up, I’d take my chances with the Alliance.”
“It ain’t like Persephone out here, there they got some money; makes ‘em think they’re safe from… you. Out on the rim, they ain’t got those kind of delusions.” Mal turned to face him straight on. He never once grabbed shoulders the way Adama did, but the power in his gaze had the same grip. “You don’t come back? Likely means some hun dan got trigger happy. Dong ma?”
“Everythin’s shiny, Cap’n.” Kaylee clasped her arms around Tyrol’s shoulders, flashing one of her trademark smiles towards Reynolds. “I’ve got Galen’s back; we’re gonna be alright. Just gonna do a little shoppin’ and come right on home. An hour tops. ‘Sides, we’re just gonna sneak off soon as you turn yer back anyways.”
With a mock huff of defeat, Mal threw his hands in the air. “I wash my hands of this. I hear gunfire, I’m goin’ the other way.”
“Xie xie, Cap’n.” She unraveled herself from around Tyrol and gave a tug on his arm. He was all too happy to turn his back on Jayne and follow Kaylee out into the crowd.
---
There was a kind of electricity in the air- the collective buzz of people chattering that accompanied the inordinate number of flags hanging from stalls in the open-air market. Every few feet, someone was stationed, playing patriotic songs on poorly tuned instruments and singing in some key previously unknown to mankind. The last time he’d felt this kind of energy was on some Colonial Day long past.
Above the din of business, words rose and rang alarms in his ears. He never heard a full sentence, more like the clipped static of the song from long ago; little snapshots of words that sent electricity shooting down his spine. Fear and anger tripping off of tongues that had no right to speak the word.
Cylon.
They were faces flickering on wanted posters.
They weren’t human.
They’d been aided in their escape from a government facility.
They could be hiding anywhere.
They came from Reaver territory.
They were made by the Reavers.
They were plotting to destroy the government.
They were mindless killing machines.
They weren’t talked about on the news much anymore, but they were out there.
They were going to get you in the night if you didn’t wash your face and eat your dinner.
The words changed over and over; mutating, warping; a game of telephone, stories passed along until you wouldn’t recognize the original.
Now he remembered. He remembered everything. He remembered that fear, that uncertainty on his own tongue. He couldn’t even bring himself to blame them, it wasn’t their fault. They didn’t know and they were scared; but they still had no right, no reason- nothing but the Alliance telling them to be afraid of the big bad machines.
The Colonials had their reasons, their fears were well-founded. They’d faced the destruction of their entire way of life, everything they held dear. Genocide. Holocaust. But since they’d arrived in this corner of the ‘verse, the Final Five and the rebel cylons (hell, even the Ones, Fours, and Fives that survived the escape from the Cruiser) had done nothing but try to live out their lives unseen, unheard.
“Galen, yer not hearin’ a word I’m sayin’.” Kaylee’s voice cut through the fog and pulled him back to her.
“No. No, I…” He cast a glance back over his shoulder towards a stall where a young man and an older woman had their heads bowed together, mouths moving but he could not make out their words. “It’s… loud out here,” he said, turning his gaze back to her. “You were saying… the… the uh… primary buffer panel was-”
“Don’ listen to their fei hua.” She followed where his gaze had gone, her eyes filled with some kind of anger he’d only seen when she was defending her ship’s honor. “They got no idea what they’re talkin’ ‘bout.”
He brushed his fingers against her cheek. They might not know what they were talking about, but neither did she. No one there would ever understand. As long as these worlds spun, they’d never know what it’s like to have all their yesterdays and all their tomorrows gone in the blink of an eye and the launch of a bomb.
No one would feel the hole tearing at their gut, their soul when they find out they are that which they do not know, that which they fear, that which they hate.
The last time he left a life behind, he had the blessing of being able to forget.
“Already forgotten, bao bei.” He knew she liked the term of endearment; it made him feel, if only for a brief moment, like he had actually joined her world. “So what were you saying?”
“I was sayin’ that the primary buffer panel needs some-”
She must have gone on. He could hear her voice, but the words were gone, lost in the fog. The only thing Tyrol was keenly aware of was the hot gaze of onlookers against his back. As he twisted to face the small crowd of people that had formed behind him, he realized the white heat that shot through him was something far more intense than the rage in the eyes that fell upon him.
Looking down he found his hand had somehow found it’s way over his stomach. Turning his palm upward he looked down to see red stains in glaring contrast with his skin.
And then he saw nothing.
---
“I was expecting injuries.”
His vision hadn’t even cleared before the voice began. There was a clipped edge to it, perhaps the tone of a man who did not really want to see him wake up.
“However, I was more expecting Mal to be lying on that bed.”
When Tyrol’s eyes became accustomed to the white lights of the infirmary, he could make out the very blurry shape of Simon Tam busying himself with some task or another with his back turned towards him.
“Your kind does, however, seem to heal remarkably fast. You’re a machine, after all, aren’t you? Of course; of course she’d…” Simon descended into silence before nodded towards a discarded pink shirt that lay on the counter, dyed brown with lingering dried blood. “Certainly do bleed like a person, though.”
I guess you really must hate me. I don't know if it makes any difference right now, but I'm really sorry you got pulled into this. You know, what we had-
Was nothing. Nothing. You're a machine. I'm not.
Well, whatever I am, I know how I felt.
Software doesn't have feelings.
Tyrol winced as he pushed himself up to sit. “I am a person.”
Simon snatched up the shirt from the counter, his hand a vice around it, and spun to face him. His voice strained to remain below a scream. “I’m sure if I tested this it would tell me otherwise.”
He almost laughed. Not that it was a particularly funny situation. More like it had dawned on him that whatever greater power was guiding this ‘verse had a seriously sick sense of humor. All this will happen again was happening on a very short cycle, and he could almost feel a dead woman speaking for him. “It might tell you I’m not human. It won’t tell you I’m not a person.”
This man had never once shown anything even remotely resembling resistance to aiding the cylons in the past, and Tyrol had been aboard Serenity for well past fifteen months; in that time, the rage that gripped Simon tighter than he gripped the shirt had not even bubbled to the surface, even in the form of a glare. Tyrol watched the doctor’s eyes. There was no fear, but there was uncertainty. It was not, however, the uncertainty of a man facing what was in front of him, but rather what could have been.
As he lay back down, he chose his next words very carefully. “How is River doing?”
---
“What was that you said ‘bout runnin’ the other way when the bullets started flyin’?” Jayne caught Mal and Zoë in the middle of a card game, his jaw set in a scowl that was at least twice as scowly as his usual.
Without looking up from the game at hand, Mal cast two cards aside and drew another two from the deck. “Bullets just happened to be flyin’ ‘tween us and the ship. Had to go through it to get home.”
Jayne heaved himself down onto a chair, leaning his elbows on the table directly between the captain and the first mate. “Did an awful lot of fightin’ to save ‘im.”
Mal cast his gaze up to Zoë who continued to examine her cards. “Never was one to pass up a good brawl. ‘Specially over somethin’ worth fightin’ for. ”
“Ain’t nothin’ ‘bout that guy worth fightin’ for. Only reason we have him ‘round’s ‘cause Kaylee don’ complain ‘bout him runnin’ out of batteries.”
Zoë arranged her cards without lifting her gaze. “Sir, do you understand what he’s goin’ on about?”
“Don’t think I rightly know,” he replied easily before casting his gaze towards the mercenary. “See, Jayne. Zoë an’ I, here, are powerful slow, so if you got a point buried somewhere in there, why don’ you just spell it on out for us simple folk.”
A conspiratorial grin flashed across Jayne’s face as he shifted in his seat. “I’m sayin’ we got no good reason to keep ‘im. He’s got less use ‘round here than the doc. It ain’t like we need two mechanics. I’m thinkin’ we hand him over to the feds and get a shiny reward.”
“And I’m thinkin’ there’s a good reason I don’t let you do the thinkin’ ‘round here.”
“What? You tryin’ to keep yer word to some old, fat guy?” Jayne sneered. “We had lives ‘fore they turned up and we need t’ be gettin’ back to ‘em.”
Mal’s gaze matched Zoë’s and she nodded towards him. The Colonials never fought in the Unification War, and the Browncoats never faced the Cylon threat; but seeing that one warship tumble onto the doorstep of his ‘verse, filled to the brim with the battleweary and the broken looking like they were ready to drop and never quite allowing themselves to fall off the edge, he knew had Adama been commanding the Independents, they would’ve never left Serenity Valley.
It was seven years to the day that they lost that battle. Of course, Jayne’d never understand. Zoë revealed her hand. Mal folded. The first mate collected her winnings. They continued their hand like Jayne was nothing but the statue that he had the brain power of.
---
It was right after Wash’s announcement that they were about to take off that Kaylee heard the hatch to her room screech open and made a mental note to hit the hinges with some oil next time she had the chance. She craned her head to see Tyrol’s backside as he climbed down the ladder into the room. “Hold on,” she called to him. “Don’ turn ‘round yet.”
She was a puddle of pink and lace, listening to the strains of classical strings, and feeling like she could fly away; but it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.
“Alright,” he said, hanging on to the ladder as she shimmied out of the ruffles and, rolling the dress into a ball, slid it out of sight. Inara would help her get it presentable again in when it came time for the ceremony.
“’Kay, you can look now.” It was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms and risk him reinjuring himself, but he smiled as he took in the sight of her, standing in her sports bra and shorts with a little smudge of grease across her forehead. “You feelin’ okay?”
His hand brushed over the gauze that covered the wound. “I’ve been through worse,” he said, moving that hand to brush over her cheek.
“I got that hun dan in the head with a rock.” She beamed. “And then I got the primary buffer panel fixed.”
“Without me?”
“Had to do somethin’ to keep my mind off you lyin’ there with a hole in your gut,” she replied, a frown finding it’s way across her lips. “I didn’ know people could be so awful.”
Galen lowered himself onto the bed. “They’re afraid. Their world just changed on them and they don’t know how to deal with it.” He heaved a sigh. “I know how they feel.”
“’Verse seems like it’s always changin’ these days,” she said as she sat down beside him. “Folks better find a way of dealin’ with it that don’ involve shootin’ people on the street.”
When leaned forward brushing his lips against hers, she felt a tremor race through her; or maybe it was just Serenity hitting a storm on the way to breaking atmo.
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~2620
Characters, Pairing: Kaylee/Chief, Simon, Mal, Zoë, Jayne
Summary: Since they’d arrived in this corner of the ‘verse, the Final Five and the rebel cylons (hell, even the Ones, Fours, and Fives that survived the escape from the Cruiser) had done nothing but try to live out their lives unseen, unheard.
A/N: Thanks to the amazing
lls_mutant for the beta!
Relief flooded over Tyrol as he stepped out of the cargo bay and onto solid ground; he closed his eyes and allowed the real sunlight wash over him. The planet’s air was warm (sweaty, even), but it felt good in his lungs nonetheless. Turning his head, he looked back into the bay, just as Kaylee appeared on the catwalk. “Got the list?” he called up to her.
“Shi,” Kaylee replied, presenting the paper as she scampered down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her.
A grin crossed his face as he turned back towards the port and the flurry of people, ships, carts, cargo, and sand that stretched out before him- until his view was cut off by the large mass of a person that was Jayne stepping in front of him. “Where d’ya think yer goin’?”
“Shopping,” he said, adjusting the canvas satchel on his shoulder as further emphasis of the fact. “Unless you think you can live off air until the next time we make port, in which case-”
“Kaylee can do ‘t.” Jayne glanced sideways at the mechanic as she appeared at his side, before leveling a glare at Tyrol, taking full advantage of the height difference between them. “Yer stayin’ on the ship.”
Tyrol took a step back, keeping eye contact with the mercenary but refusing to have to crane his neck to look up at him. “Unless something damn tragic happened to both the Captain and Zoë in the last twenty minutes, I don’t have to listen to you.”
A firm grip against his shoulder alerted him to aforementioned Captain who had stepped up beside him. “Sorry, Chief.” Tyrol sometimes wondered if Mal actually knew his name, the way he clung to that old title. “You’re stayin’ here.”
“Guai guai long de dong? You’ve got to be kidding me! I haven’t been off this frakking ship since Persephone.” He waved his arm, gesturing back towards the ship. He had a few choice words he would’ve liked to call Serenity to emphasize his point, but thought better of it knowing Kaylee was standing right beside him.
Jayne scoffed. “Though y’d be used to that. Weren’t you putterin’ ‘round in space fer three years ‘fore we took yer sorry ass on board?”
“Bi zui,” Mal snapped, stepping between the men. “Son, I’m doin’ this as a favor to you and your bride-to-be. For now, you ain’t leavin’ the boat.”
“For now,” Tyrol echoed with a slight nod. “And just how long is that going to be, Captain? I’m not stupid. I know I’m a wanted man, but if I wanted to be locked up, I’d take my chances with the Alliance.”
“It ain’t like Persephone out here, there they got some money; makes ‘em think they’re safe from… you. Out on the rim, they ain’t got those kind of delusions.” Mal turned to face him straight on. He never once grabbed shoulders the way Adama did, but the power in his gaze had the same grip. “You don’t come back? Likely means some hun dan got trigger happy. Dong ma?”
“Everythin’s shiny, Cap’n.” Kaylee clasped her arms around Tyrol’s shoulders, flashing one of her trademark smiles towards Reynolds. “I’ve got Galen’s back; we’re gonna be alright. Just gonna do a little shoppin’ and come right on home. An hour tops. ‘Sides, we’re just gonna sneak off soon as you turn yer back anyways.”
With a mock huff of defeat, Mal threw his hands in the air. “I wash my hands of this. I hear gunfire, I’m goin’ the other way.”
“Xie xie, Cap’n.” She unraveled herself from around Tyrol and gave a tug on his arm. He was all too happy to turn his back on Jayne and follow Kaylee out into the crowd.
---
There was a kind of electricity in the air- the collective buzz of people chattering that accompanied the inordinate number of flags hanging from stalls in the open-air market. Every few feet, someone was stationed, playing patriotic songs on poorly tuned instruments and singing in some key previously unknown to mankind. The last time he’d felt this kind of energy was on some Colonial Day long past.
Above the din of business, words rose and rang alarms in his ears. He never heard a full sentence, more like the clipped static of the song from long ago; little snapshots of words that sent electricity shooting down his spine. Fear and anger tripping off of tongues that had no right to speak the word.
Cylon.
They were faces flickering on wanted posters.
They weren’t human.
They’d been aided in their escape from a government facility.
They could be hiding anywhere.
They came from Reaver territory.
They were made by the Reavers.
They were plotting to destroy the government.
They were mindless killing machines.
They weren’t talked about on the news much anymore, but they were out there.
They were going to get you in the night if you didn’t wash your face and eat your dinner.
The words changed over and over; mutating, warping; a game of telephone, stories passed along until you wouldn’t recognize the original.
Now he remembered. He remembered everything. He remembered that fear, that uncertainty on his own tongue. He couldn’t even bring himself to blame them, it wasn’t their fault. They didn’t know and they were scared; but they still had no right, no reason- nothing but the Alliance telling them to be afraid of the big bad machines.
The Colonials had their reasons, their fears were well-founded. They’d faced the destruction of their entire way of life, everything they held dear. Genocide. Holocaust. But since they’d arrived in this corner of the ‘verse, the Final Five and the rebel cylons (hell, even the Ones, Fours, and Fives that survived the escape from the Cruiser) had done nothing but try to live out their lives unseen, unheard.
“Galen, yer not hearin’ a word I’m sayin’.” Kaylee’s voice cut through the fog and pulled him back to her.
“No. No, I…” He cast a glance back over his shoulder towards a stall where a young man and an older woman had their heads bowed together, mouths moving but he could not make out their words. “It’s… loud out here,” he said, turning his gaze back to her. “You were saying… the… the uh… primary buffer panel was-”
“Don’ listen to their fei hua.” She followed where his gaze had gone, her eyes filled with some kind of anger he’d only seen when she was defending her ship’s honor. “They got no idea what they’re talkin’ ‘bout.”
He brushed his fingers against her cheek. They might not know what they were talking about, but neither did she. No one there would ever understand. As long as these worlds spun, they’d never know what it’s like to have all their yesterdays and all their tomorrows gone in the blink of an eye and the launch of a bomb.
No one would feel the hole tearing at their gut, their soul when they find out they are that which they do not know, that which they fear, that which they hate.
The last time he left a life behind, he had the blessing of being able to forget.
“Already forgotten, bao bei.” He knew she liked the term of endearment; it made him feel, if only for a brief moment, like he had actually joined her world. “So what were you saying?”
“I was sayin’ that the primary buffer panel needs some-”
She must have gone on. He could hear her voice, but the words were gone, lost in the fog. The only thing Tyrol was keenly aware of was the hot gaze of onlookers against his back. As he twisted to face the small crowd of people that had formed behind him, he realized the white heat that shot through him was something far more intense than the rage in the eyes that fell upon him.
Looking down he found his hand had somehow found it’s way over his stomach. Turning his palm upward he looked down to see red stains in glaring contrast with his skin.
And then he saw nothing.
---
“I was expecting injuries.”
His vision hadn’t even cleared before the voice began. There was a clipped edge to it, perhaps the tone of a man who did not really want to see him wake up.
“However, I was more expecting Mal to be lying on that bed.”
When Tyrol’s eyes became accustomed to the white lights of the infirmary, he could make out the very blurry shape of Simon Tam busying himself with some task or another with his back turned towards him.
“Your kind does, however, seem to heal remarkably fast. You’re a machine, after all, aren’t you? Of course; of course she’d…” Simon descended into silence before nodded towards a discarded pink shirt that lay on the counter, dyed brown with lingering dried blood. “Certainly do bleed like a person, though.”
I guess you really must hate me. I don't know if it makes any difference right now, but I'm really sorry you got pulled into this. You know, what we had-
Was nothing. Nothing. You're a machine. I'm not.
Well, whatever I am, I know how I felt.
Software doesn't have feelings.
Tyrol winced as he pushed himself up to sit. “I am a person.”
Simon snatched up the shirt from the counter, his hand a vice around it, and spun to face him. His voice strained to remain below a scream. “I’m sure if I tested this it would tell me otherwise.”
He almost laughed. Not that it was a particularly funny situation. More like it had dawned on him that whatever greater power was guiding this ‘verse had a seriously sick sense of humor. All this will happen again was happening on a very short cycle, and he could almost feel a dead woman speaking for him. “It might tell you I’m not human. It won’t tell you I’m not a person.”
This man had never once shown anything even remotely resembling resistance to aiding the cylons in the past, and Tyrol had been aboard Serenity for well past fifteen months; in that time, the rage that gripped Simon tighter than he gripped the shirt had not even bubbled to the surface, even in the form of a glare. Tyrol watched the doctor’s eyes. There was no fear, but there was uncertainty. It was not, however, the uncertainty of a man facing what was in front of him, but rather what could have been.
As he lay back down, he chose his next words very carefully. “How is River doing?”
---
“What was that you said ‘bout runnin’ the other way when the bullets started flyin’?” Jayne caught Mal and Zoë in the middle of a card game, his jaw set in a scowl that was at least twice as scowly as his usual.
Without looking up from the game at hand, Mal cast two cards aside and drew another two from the deck. “Bullets just happened to be flyin’ ‘tween us and the ship. Had to go through it to get home.”
Jayne heaved himself down onto a chair, leaning his elbows on the table directly between the captain and the first mate. “Did an awful lot of fightin’ to save ‘im.”
Mal cast his gaze up to Zoë who continued to examine her cards. “Never was one to pass up a good brawl. ‘Specially over somethin’ worth fightin’ for. ”
“Ain’t nothin’ ‘bout that guy worth fightin’ for. Only reason we have him ‘round’s ‘cause Kaylee don’ complain ‘bout him runnin’ out of batteries.”
Zoë arranged her cards without lifting her gaze. “Sir, do you understand what he’s goin’ on about?”
“Don’t think I rightly know,” he replied easily before casting his gaze towards the mercenary. “See, Jayne. Zoë an’ I, here, are powerful slow, so if you got a point buried somewhere in there, why don’ you just spell it on out for us simple folk.”
A conspiratorial grin flashed across Jayne’s face as he shifted in his seat. “I’m sayin’ we got no good reason to keep ‘im. He’s got less use ‘round here than the doc. It ain’t like we need two mechanics. I’m thinkin’ we hand him over to the feds and get a shiny reward.”
“And I’m thinkin’ there’s a good reason I don’t let you do the thinkin’ ‘round here.”
“What? You tryin’ to keep yer word to some old, fat guy?” Jayne sneered. “We had lives ‘fore they turned up and we need t’ be gettin’ back to ‘em.”
Mal’s gaze matched Zoë’s and she nodded towards him. The Colonials never fought in the Unification War, and the Browncoats never faced the Cylon threat; but seeing that one warship tumble onto the doorstep of his ‘verse, filled to the brim with the battleweary and the broken looking like they were ready to drop and never quite allowing themselves to fall off the edge, he knew had Adama been commanding the Independents, they would’ve never left Serenity Valley.
It was seven years to the day that they lost that battle. Of course, Jayne’d never understand. Zoë revealed her hand. Mal folded. The first mate collected her winnings. They continued their hand like Jayne was nothing but the statue that he had the brain power of.
---
It was right after Wash’s announcement that they were about to take off that Kaylee heard the hatch to her room screech open and made a mental note to hit the hinges with some oil next time she had the chance. She craned her head to see Tyrol’s backside as he climbed down the ladder into the room. “Hold on,” she called to him. “Don’ turn ‘round yet.”
She was a puddle of pink and lace, listening to the strains of classical strings, and feeling like she could fly away; but it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.
“Alright,” he said, hanging on to the ladder as she shimmied out of the ruffles and, rolling the dress into a ball, slid it out of sight. Inara would help her get it presentable again in when it came time for the ceremony.
“’Kay, you can look now.” It was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms and risk him reinjuring himself, but he smiled as he took in the sight of her, standing in her sports bra and shorts with a little smudge of grease across her forehead. “You feelin’ okay?”
His hand brushed over the gauze that covered the wound. “I’ve been through worse,” he said, moving that hand to brush over her cheek.
“I got that hun dan in the head with a rock.” She beamed. “And then I got the primary buffer panel fixed.”
“Without me?”
“Had to do somethin’ to keep my mind off you lyin’ there with a hole in your gut,” she replied, a frown finding it’s way across her lips. “I didn’ know people could be so awful.”
Galen lowered himself onto the bed. “They’re afraid. Their world just changed on them and they don’t know how to deal with it.” He heaved a sigh. “I know how they feel.”
“’Verse seems like it’s always changin’ these days,” she said as she sat down beside him. “Folks better find a way of dealin’ with it that don’ involve shootin’ people on the street.”
When leaned forward brushing his lips against hers, she felt a tremor race through her; or maybe it was just Serenity hitting a storm on the way to breaking atmo.