Starting Repairs.

[bad_in_latin]

It took Kaylee and Mal several days to figure out a plan of action to deal with repairs to the ship in the garage, and there's no argument to Mal's insistence at starting with the spikes through the bridge alongside the debris cleanup that needs to get cleared out before any true work can begin for restoration

Comments

[bad_in_latin]

It's late, and both Kaylee and Mal are tired. Sihnon weren't built in a day; the captain and mechanic pack up their tools and Mal walks Kaylee to the open cargo bay door.

"Captain -- "

"I'll be fine; you can find your way back to the bar alright?" He doesn't follow Kaylee down the ramp.

She nods uncertainly, looking behind her before leaving to see Mal picking up a mangled strip of metal from the floor to drop in the compactor under the deckplates.

Mal's quick to start humming -- it's aimless, but loud enough to distract himself with.

[sai_delgado]

It's not long, say true, before a second melody drifts through the ship's air, tangling with his humming.

And oh, it's soft, but it's sweetly sung all the same.

[bad_in_latin]

The humming slows a half-step when Mal decides to shove some jostled crates against the bulkhead. They're not heavy -- more awkward, and the humming stops when Mal grunts to pick up one of the boxes.

The empty space of it is echoing, to Mal's ears. He shakes it off.

[sai_delgado]

Soft laughter comes from behind him.

"Have a care, sai -- ye'd not want to strain yerself, would ye?"

The figure perched on the edge of the catwalk above braces her hands against the metal and leans out, looking down at him. Her hair slips from its loose gather as she moves, cascading down over her shoulder in a spill of soft gold.

Susan Delgado(-that-was) smiles.

[bad_in_latin]

The box gets dropped into place instead of laid down; it clatters.

Looking upward, Mal can't seem to decide whether or not to be happy to see the girl. Woman. Susan.

"You're not who I was expectin' being here."

[sai_delgado]

"Do'ee say so?"

She blinks at him, fog-gray eyes wide and confused.

"Where else would I be?"

[bad_in_latin]

"Well...always thought o' someplace...greener, for you."

Less mangled and damaged. It was a hope, anyway.

[sai_delgado]

"Sometimes, aye," Susan agrees. "But thee knows why I'm here, Mal."

(dead friends haunt old soldiers)

"It were thee once told me."

[bad_in_latin]

Mal doesn't forget much.

("Are thee haunted so, Mal?")

"I been trying to change some, since you left."

His neck is craning upward at her, and there's little in the way of internal light in the cargo bay. Kaylee and Mal put up emergency lighting through the bay itself, but Mal debates the flashlight in his pocket too for a second.

No.

"Tryin' to fix things."

[sai_delgado]

"Ye'd save her, if ye could."

She waves one hand at the ship around her, but her gaze never leaves him.

"Is it not so?"

[bad_in_latin]

"I let her get like this."

It's easier to say out loud, to Susan, to nobody, in the middle of his ship but not.

"It was the right thing to do, but I couldn't fix her before. Now I can."

[sai_delgado]

"Charyou tree," Susan murmurs. "Come, reap. She were the sacrifice, I wot."

There's an eerie, flickering light behind her; it's hard to tell from where.

"But ye'll see she's not lost?"

(and by the wind grieved)

"Not forgotten?"

[bad_in_latin]

It's getting to the point where Mal can't hardly stand to stare upward at Susan where she is, from his point on the floor of the cargo bay. He starts heading for the staircase closest to Susan's perch on the catwalks.

"She weren't even forgotten by the end o' the 'verse," Mal explains, almost a tone of pride. And thankfulness. "I don't know where her crew is -- "

Though Mal does. Or at least can guess.

" -- but at least she came here."

[sai_delgado]

"She did, say true."

A beat, long enough for a single breath. Susan looks out over the cargo bay, waiting for Mal to climb upward.

"Mayhap thee brought her, too."

[bad_in_latin]

Cautious, as he approaches: "I never lived here. On this ship."

[sai_delgado]

"Does it matter?"

She shifts her weight and gets to her feet, then looks up at him. Curiosity is evident in the slight tilt of her head, in the openness of her expression-- but there's a strange wariness too, almost as though she's bracing herself for something.