DISCLAIMER: The Firefly/Serenity
characters are the property of Mutant Enemies, Fox, Universal, and probably someone
else I'm forgetting. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn
and are copyright (c) 2005 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
Downtime
by Djinn
Mal woke up with a start,
expecting to see the lights of battle, the blazing explosions of flashers
flying low, of grenades and mortars hitting sand and rock. But his eyes fastened on the cool, comforting
metal of the infirmary. He was on his
ship. He was safe—Serenity had him.
"Ah, you're awake. How do you feel?" Simon walked over, pulling out some medicine
from a drawer on his way.
"Don't be shooting me up
with that before you even figure out what's wrong," Mal said, trying to
pull away.
"Way ahead of you,
captain. We're long past the diagnosis
phase. Aren't we, Zoe?"
Mal turned his head, saw Zoe
perched on the counter, legs dangling.
She never did that unless she was bored to death.
"Been out a while, I
guess?" He was hoping she'd hop on
down and leave. Unconcerned Zoe was the
way to go when wounds were the issue.
She didn't look
unconcerned. "Sure were,
Captain." Her smile was gentle,
sharing a joke with him, then a different joke with Simon.
Mal must have been out for
quite some time for these two to have forged a secret funny between them. "I don't know as I hold with this new
closeness between you two. Wash approve?"
Zoe just laughed. "If it's helping you, Wash is fine with
it."
"How long have I been
out?"
"About ten
hours." Simon put the monitor on Mal's finger, closing it so gently he barely felt the
pinch. "I had to operate."
Mal started to sit up, but
Simon's hand on his shoulder held him down. "The operation wasn't easy,
Captain. I'd rather you didn't go and
destroy all my good work."
"Man's not lying,
sir. He worked a long time over
you." Zoe finally hopped off the
counter, looking as if she was ready to assist with the "keeping Mal
still" operation. "And I helped,
so I'm not real eager to see you tear yourself up trying to get out of that
bed."
"Conspiracy of two. Someone else here who can weigh in?"
"I'm not supposed to be
here." River's voice sounded from
the doorway, but he couldn't see her.
Then he realized she was down low, crouching on the floor.
"What are you doing,
girl?"
"Flashers coming in,
take your head off if you're not careful.
If you don't stay down." It
was what Mal had said to Zoe during the battle of Kuan
Lo—and what he'd been dreaming of just before he'd started awake. Girl was downright creepy when she wanted to
be. Although maybe wanting wasn't really
part of it?
"No offense,
Doctor. But your sister isn't really the
third person I was looking for."
"Three can keep a secret
if two are dead." River stood
slowly, looking around as if flashers really were going to come flipping into
the ship.
Simon didn't appear to be
paying much mind to her. His "Mei Mei, not now," didn't sound any different than it ever
did.
"Girl's getting better
at the psychic stuff," Zoe murmured to him. "There were low-flying flashers at Kuan Lo."
"There certainly
were."
Ignoring her brother, River
walked into the infirmary, staring down at Mal as if she could see past the
sheet. "Insides on the
outside. All jumbled up, pink and
stinking."
He'd seen enough on the
battlefield to know that belly wounds did tend to stink if enough innards found
their way out. "I'm all better
now."
"Not all. Part way.
Most of the way. Can't get
up. Can't go out. Can't order us around."
"Oh, he can still do
that," Zoe said with a grin.
"Not without yelling. Yelling's bad." River smiled—that distant, slightly superior,
very creepifying smile. "If we
hide, you can't find us. If a captain
gives an order in an empty room and no one hears him, does he make a noise?"
"Bit philosophical for
me, girl. What do you think?"
River blinked, as if
surprised he'd asked her. "Depends
on whether reception is required for noise to exist."
"If Wash sends a
distress call and no one receives it, he still sent it." Zoe smiled at Mal, as if she knew he must
have wondered if they'd pick up his distress call.
"River, there you are
child." Shepherd Book came into the
infirmary, walking to her slowly, his calm manner soothing even for Mal, who
didn't hold with the man's god.
"Come on, then. Let's go
finish fixing the Bible, shall we?"
"She's fixing the
bible?" Mal wondered what that
entailed. Maybe scratching out the parts
that said God actually cared what happened to folk?
"Oh, yes." Book sighed.
"The frightening thing is, the parts she's edited do read better
now." He took her gently by the
shoulders and turned her, urging her out of the infirmary.
"Man's got the patience
of a saint," Simon murmured.
"And the hair of a crazy
locust-and-grubs hermit." Zoe saw
them look at her. "Long
story."
"Wash know you've been
peeking at the shepherd when his hair's down?" Mal laughed and was immediately sorry. Pain seemed to erupt inside him.
"Okay, that's enough of
that." Simon injected him with the
medicine. "Sleepy time, Captain."
Mal could feel the drug
starting to work. "Same stuff you
used to give your sister?"
"Yep."
"You gonna
stroke my hair back and talk to me as I fall asleep?" Not that he wanted Simon to do that, although
it had struck him as one of the sweeter things he'd
seen the doc do for his sister. But if
Simon wanted to get Inara in here...
"He'll be out for
hours. I want someone with him at all
times," Mal heard the doc say.
"We'll take turns."
Maybe Inara
would take a double shift?
"Zoe?"
"Yessir?"
"Don't let me
fall."
He felt her take his hand,
her grip strong. "Not gonna be any falling happening here, sir."
"You never call me
Mal. How come you never call me
Mal?"
"Go to sleep,
Mal." His name sounded powerful odd
coming from her.
"Goodnight, Zoe."
He slept.
***
Mal woke to the sound of a
rhythmic swooshing sound. Opening his
eyes slowly, he turned his head and saw Jayne cleaning Vera the way most men
made love to their women. He had the gun
open, was taking out parts and wiping them down. Swoosh-swoosh, swoosh-swoosh, the soft cloth
not missing a spot.
"Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes?" Mal tried to move.
Jayne glanced up. "I don't need Vera here to lay you back
down, Cap'n."
"I'm feeling much
better."
"Doc said you were to
stay put. More important, Doc's scary
sister who can kill me with her brain said you were to stay put. Way I see it, you're staying put."
Mal started to push up.
Jayne's hand was on his
shoulder, very large and very clear with the message of "Stay put."
Mal quit trying to get
up. "I'm staying put."
"Smart man."
There was silence for a bit
as Jayne went back to cleaning his gun and Mal tried to think of a way to get
him to let him sit up a spell.
Finally, Mal said, "She
can't. Not really." Looking up, he counted the tiles that covered
the ceiling longways.
"Who can't what
really?"
"River. She can't kill you with her brain."
Jayne stopped cleaning the
gun. He seemed to think a spell. "You sure about that?"
"Pretty sure,
yeah."
Jayne put Vera down, got up
and walked to the door of the infirmary.
"Hey, girl. Mal says you
can't kill me with your brain."
"Which of us you think
is smarter, him or me?" River
sounded almost like she was teasing Jayne.
"Not sure." There was a long silence, then Jayne started
muttering in Chinese as he walked back to the chair someone had drug in from
the lounge and set up next to the sickbed.
"Sorry, Cap'n. Man's gotta be gorram sure someone can't kill him with her brain before he
sets out to upset her by letting you up and about."
"It's my ship."
"Yep, that it is."
"I give the orders
here."
"Normally, I'd not argue
with you. But seeing as you're flat on your
backside and creepgirl's wandering loose, I'm gonna have to see things her way." He seemed to be having trouble sliding one of
Vera's inner parts back in. "Zaogao!"
"You're losing your
touch." Mal sighed. Why'd it have to be
Jayne and Vera keeping him company? Here
he was on his sick bed and this was the concern showed him. "Where's the rest of the crew?"
"Simon's trying to make
a drug deal."
"On account of
why?"
"Oh, you know. Business and all." Jayne didn't quite meet his eyes.
"Jayne?"
"On account of you're bleeding and you don't seem inclined to stop."
Mal glanced down; the sheet
looked as white as it ever did.
"Inside. You're bleeding inside. Doc's got some kind of drain in you to get it
out. But a man can't live that way. Not and strike fear into the hearts of those
he runs up against."
Mal felt gingerly along the
sheet. Sure enough, there was a big old
tube coming out of his insides. "So the drugs are gonna make it
stop bleeding?"
"Doc says so. Says Warther must
have put something in his bullets.
Exploded good and mean inside you when you got hit."
Mal nodded. Explained why his belly had felt more on fire
than he remembered a gut wound feeling.
"Well, that covers where the doc is. What about Zoe?"
"She's providing muscle
for him. Wash went along, too. For comic relief, I guess." Jayne grinned meanly. "Kaylee's been down here bout a hunnerd times. She's
doing engine repairs when she ain't checkin' on you."
Jayne finally got Vera back together.
"Shepherd's trying to make sure River doesn't bug us too much. He's just outside if you want him to say a
prayer over you?"
"Funny."
"I thought
so." Jayne got up. "Fact, 'bout time he relieved me."
"You left someone
out."
Jayne frowned.
"Inara?"
"Oh, she's just
back. Cleaning up, I expect, from the
extra work she took on."
Mal felt as if someone had
shot him in the gut all over again.
"I'm lying here bleeding to death, and she took on a few extra
clients? Taking advantage of the
downtime with a little whoring, I guess?"
Jayne looked taken
aback. "The special medicine is
expensive, Mal. And we were all tapped
out. She took the extra work so Simon
could get what you needed."
Mal's stomach took another hit. "Oh."
"You know, Mal, not that
it's any of my concern or nothing, but sex is her business. You sure get tetchy about it." Jayne met his eyes, and Mal saw something he
never expected—understanding.
"Wouldn't kill you to tell the girl you like her, would it?"
"Who said I liked
her?"
Jayne turned to the
door. "River, come here a minute,
will ya?"
A moment later River popped
her head in.
"Mal like Inara?"
She nodded, then lifted her hand
and pretended to kiss it, making lots of slurpy noises.
"I rest my case. Even the ship's crazy person knows you're
sweet on Inara."
"I thought Book was
relieving you?"
"You're right. He was."
Jayne looked down at River.
"You ready to learn the parts of this gun?"
"Jayne, we are not
teaching the girl about guns."
"We're not. I am.
Someday we might want her to know this stuff."
"No touching," she
said helpfully. Then she turned her
laser-beam stare on Mal. "Hard to
learn without touching."
"Okay, then, touch but
no shooting," Mal said. "Not in here.
Guns are outside stuff."
"You fire in here."
"Yeah...well, I'm
stupid."
She giggled. And, for one moment, she sounded like the
girl she was. Then she looked up at
Jayne and the look she gave him was far from young.
"Jayne," Mal said,
"I want you to have Shepherd Book tell you about the special hell."
Jayne's look was utter
incomprehension. Mal looked over at
River. She stared blandly back.
Mal tried again. "River, I want you to have Shepherd Book
tell you about the special hell."
By her smile, he got the
feeling she knew exactly what he meant, and the thought made him kind of
nauseous.
Book walked in as she led
Jayne out. "Something troubling
you? I heard you asking for me to give a
lecture?"
"You think they're safe
together?"
Book smiled. "River and Jayne? Oh, I think she has nothing to worry about
from him."
"Not her I'm worried
about, preacher." Mal yawned. "How can I be tired again? I just woke up."
Book sat down in the chair
Jayne had vacated. "You're hurt
bad."
"I know." He met Book's eyes. "I don't need no last rites."
"Good. I don't give them. That would be the Catholics." He smiled, the look warm and open. The look that always calmed everyone
down.
"Book your first name or
your last?" Mal yawned again.
"Yes." Book picked up his bible, read something that
seemed to go around the margins—he had to keep turning the book to read
it. Then he laughed and shook his
head.
"Something funny?"
"Girl's a pistol, is
all. I never thought about 'God is
light' in quite these terms." He
closed the book. "She's gifted."
"Yeah, that's one way of
looking at it."
"You think she's
not?"
"I think she's a whole lot
of trouble all wrapped up in a disarmingly endearing package." Mal could feel his eyes closing. "She's dangerous, shepherd."
"Well, who here
isn't?"
He felt Book pat his
shoulder.
"You rest up now,
Captain. Simon should be back
soon."
"With my medicine."
"Yes. With your medicine," Book said, giving
him another pat.
But Mal thought he sounded a
little worried.
##
Mal woke, his gut burning,
and he could tell he was sweating like a pig.
"Shhh. It's all right." Kaylee laid something cool and wet on his
forehead. She didn't look like it was
all right.
"Where are the
others?"
"Don't you worry about
them." Kaylee kept looking outside
the infirmary.
"Somewhere else you need
to be?"
"I got the forward
thrust coupler near stripped. But Book
and Jayne had to go, so I came down. But
we can't fly till I put it back together."
"They had to go?"
Kaylee nodded, her face all
scrunched up. She wasn't lying to him
any better than she ever did.
"There's been some
trouble?" Another wave of fire
spread through his belly, and he closed his eyes and rode it out.
"Nothing Jayne and Book
can't handle, Captain." Again Kaylee looked out, and Mal could tell the engine was
calling to her.
"Go on, Kaylee. I'll be fine."
"I'll watch him,"
River said.
Mal hadn't noticed her come
into the room.
"Oh, I'm not so
sure." Kaylee looked from River to
him to her engines.
"Get the ship
running," Mal managed to say between waves of pain. "That's an order."
With a guilty look, she got up,
handing River a bowl she must have had sitting in her lap. "Change the cloth when it's not cool anymore."
"I know." River didn't sit, and when Kaylee finally
left, she put the bowl down.
"You're real sick."
It occurred to him that she
didn't sound the least bit crazy, and her look seemed full of concern. Then again he was
feverish and prone to imagining crazy stuff his own self. He almost wanted to ask her to fill him up
with one of those painkillers the doc used all the time. But he was afraid she'd grab the wrong one
and that'd be the end for him.
"You hurt," she
said softly.
He was going to lie but
something about her expression told him not to.
"Yeah. I sure do."
She moved up near his head
and leaned in, touching behind his ears, pressing hard on both sides of his
head with the bony part of her thumbs.
It hurt, for a minute, and then the pain went away some—on his head and
down low in his gut. She moved back
where he could see her. "Give me
your hand."
He didn't question her, just
lifted his hand and let her work, pressing with her thumb again. The pain receded even more, although he still
felt hot and sweaty. "What are you
doing?"
"Pressure points. Control the body, control the
pain." She moved the low chair
away, pulling the higher stool over.
"I made you feel better."
"That you
did." He realized he'd been
breathing shallowly and tried taking a deeper breath, the movement becoming
less gingerly as the pulling in of oxygen didn't hurt his stomach. "Thanks."
She nodded, her eyes not
looking even the least bit loony as she studied him.
"Things went south on
the job, huh?" he asked.
"Simon isn't good at
being bad." Smiling, she reached
over for the bowl, took the cloth off his forehead and dipped it into the
water. She wrung it out before laying it
back over his forehead. "They'll be
all right. Inara
went too. She talks pretty and people
like to do what she wants. They'll come
home soon."
"You wish?"
"I know." By the look in her eyes, he believed her.
"What are you,
girl?"
"I don't know. They unmade me." Her lip quivered and for a second, he thought
she might cry. "It's why they want
me back. I know things I shouldn't, and
I hear things that haven't been said yet, and see things for what they
are. And I'm a wea—" She looked away.
"You're a
weapon." Good to get it out in the
open—even if only between the two of them.
It was no doubt why Jayne wanted to hang around the girl. Man couldn't resist a shiny new toy of the
lethal variety.
River just nodded. "Might as well be a good weapon,
then." She met his eyes, then
closed hers. Her hands moved, as if she
was stripping a gun. She counted off the
parts.
"Jayne teach you
that?"
She nodded.
"He teach
you anything else?"
Her eyes opened. "No," she said, but then she
smiled, and it was so far from a girl's smile that Mal had to suppress a
shudder.
"River. He's an old man."
"No, he's not."
"All right then, he's a
dumb one."
She just smiled, and Mal got
the horrible feeling she liked her men that way.
"You're seventeen,
girl. I won't have that sort of thing on
my ship."
"Be eighteen in
weeks." She worked at the spot on
his hand, and his pain was pushed down again.
He'd barely known it was
starting back up—how had she?
"Don't care how old
you're going to be." Then he
frowned. "What day?"
She leaned down, whispered
it. "Shhh,
it's a secret. No one can know the day
I was born except you and Simon."
She suddenly sounded a little crazy.
Then he heard the hatch door slam open.
"We're back," Zoe
called. "And we got the
goods."
River turned and he reached
out for her, stopping her.
"Is it all an act?"
She stared down at him,
smiling that enigmatic smile of hers.
"I like vanilla frosting."
He'd been thinking of asking
Kaylee to make her a cake, special for her birthday—with chocolate icing. "Vanilla, it is."
She smiled brilliantly, again
looking her age. Then, as he watched,
she seemed to slump a little, her head cocked just enough to give her that
crazy edge. "Everyone's back. See, I told you. All okay now." She leaned down, her lips resting near his
ear. "Thank you for keeping me
safe. I'm glad I could look out for
you." Then she ran out, leaving him
alone for the few moments it took Simon and Zoe to get to him.
Simon looked a little
worried. "River was with you?"
Mal nodded. "Kaylee needed to fix the engine. There was no one else, and you ordered
it."
Simon still looked a bit
worried.
"Your sister was fine,
doctor." Mal saw Wash peek into the
room. "Kaylee may need a
hand."
"Mine's free," the
pilot said, dashing out, then Mal heard him clanging up the stairs.
Simon was loading up an
injector. "I'm going to have to
operate again. Once this starts to
work. Just to make sure it's building up
your cells so everything's good and tight in there again."
Mal nodded, trying not to
flinch as Simon poked the needle into his arm.
He looked over at Zoe. "You
ran into trouble?"
"Nothing we couldn't
handle."
Simon shot her a look.
"Well, maybe it was more
like nothing Inara couldn't handle."
Mal smiled. "No one hurt?"
"No one but you,
sir." She sat down in the stool,
her hand resting on his upper arm.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'll live." He watched her face carefully. "I will live, Zoe."
"Course you will. Little thing like this isn't going to end
you." She leaned down, kissing his
cheek gently.
"Oh, god. I'm going to die, ain't
I?"
She smiled. "I'm just glad you didn't die while we
were messing up on the job."
Pulling the cloth off his forehead, she used it to wipe the sweat from
the rest of his face and around his throat.
"You're a stubborn man, sir.
Both of us know that."
"Stubborn's
not a bad thing."
"No, it's
not." She smiled again, the tender
smile she usually reserved for Wash.
"You just stick around. I
don't fancy giving orders in your stead."
"You'd do fine."
"That may be, but let's
not put it to the test."
There was a low rumbling,
then a more rhythmic vibration. He
smiled. "Kaylee's got her
running."
"Well, I helped,"
Wash said as he walked in. "How
you doing, Mal?"
"I've been
prettier."
"Looks aren't
everything," Simon said from where he was entering something into his
computer.
"Spoken like a
pretty-pretty man."
Simon turned,
his smile gentle. "You think I'm
pretty? Why, sir, I didn't think I was
your type."
"Mal doesn't have a
type, didn't you know that?" Inara's voice sounded like honey and smoke.
Zoe got up. "Why don't you sit with him a
spell?" She pushed Wash out. "We'll be piloting us out of the
world."
"Well, I will be. She'll just be bossing me around." Wash whapped Zoe on the butt—Mal was
constantly astounded that she let him do that.
Inara looked at Simon.
"Is it okay if I'm here?"
He nodded. "We just wait, now. Let the medicine do its magic." Dumping out the bowl of water, he handed it
back to her. At her rising eyebrows, he
grimaced a little. "There may be
vomiting."
"And on your fine
clothes too," Mal said, his voice taking that dip into mean that he always
regretted but couldn't seem to stop using with her. Girl set him on fire and all he could do was
mock her. It was a puzzlement.
"My clothes will
survive. Or I'll get new
ones." She sat gracefully.
"Don't let him pull the
tube out. I'm going to go
change." Mal realized Simon's
clothes smelled like urine and cigarettes.
"Call me if his temperature goes any higher." He put the clamp on Mal's
finger and they all watched his temperature climb to one hundred and four.
"Damn," Mal
said. "No wonder I feel like goushi." He looked at Inara,
as the doctor walked out. "Do I
look like goushi?"
"You're still
pretty." She looked like she might
cry, and that scared him. She seemed to
realize it, and sniffed, rubbing her eyes roughly. "It was dusty on that planet."
"Something in your
eye?"
She nodded, then she looked
over at the monitor, and at the door, then over at the shelves of
medicine. She was, in fact, looking at everything
but him.
"I ain't
gonna die, Inara."
She nodded, finally meeting
his eyes. "You'll be well in no
time. You're strong."
"And I've got this fine
medicine. Paid for by you, I'm given to
understand." He sounded
judgmental. Why'd he have
to go and sound that way for?
"Just glad I could
help. Even if it was on my
back." Her eyes were stormy. As if she'd finally had enough of him.
"I always imagined you
on top."
The storm subsided, and she
seemed surprised. "Did you?"
He looked away. Now why the hell had he gone and said that?
"Mal?"
He opened his mouth to say
something mean, then caught a look at her face.
Damn but this woman was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Before he could think better of it, his mouth
started moving. "Inara there's probably not a way of lovin'
I haven't imagined you and I doing."
There, it was said.
Her eyes widened.
"Never mind your policy
on not doing the crew." He saw that
she was staring down at him, not in shock, or irritation, or disgust. But softly.
Tenderly. "Then again, you
said the crew, not the captain."
"I wasn't very clear,
was I?"
"Sure weren't."
She suddenly started to cry.
"But if the thought is
tear provokin', maybe you best forget I said
anything."
He was about to say more, but
couldn't, on account of her having leaned down and laid her lips against
his. She was gentle, as if she was afraid she'd hurt him, and he could taste her tears as they
fell between their joined lips.
She finally pulled away and
whispered, "Don't die, Mal."
"I don't expect I
will. Not if you promise to kiss me like
that again."
"I will."
"Even once I'm
well?" He took her hand—it was so
damned soft, and she smelled so gorram good. "Promise me this isn't just your bedside—sick-bedside—manner."
She laughed. "I promise. I'm not known for my compassion."
"That really is goushi. You're my benchmark for that particular
attribute."
Looking down, she said
softly, "I'm your benchmark for other, not-so-nice, things, too."
"Yeah, we're going to
have to talk about your line of work.
You seemed to take to crime all right."
She laughed, then leaned down
and kissed him again. "I can't
promise you I won't whore," she said when she pulled back.
"You're not a
whore. And as far as being a companion,
I'm sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with a workable
solution." But he could tell by her
face that it might not be a solution he was overly in love with.
"Can you share me?"
she asked very matter of factly.
"No." He hated that he'd just blurted it out like
some rutting teenager, but there it was.
He wasn't of a mind to share her.
To his surprise, her smile
was brilliant. "Then you'll just
have to earn enough money to afford to book me exclusively."
"See. There's a solution already." He pulled her down for another kiss, but had
to let go as he felt his gorge rising.
"Bowl. Bowl."
She grabbed it, got it to him just in time.
There was a little blood mixed in—but only a little. Maybe that meant the drug was working? Mal didn't think any of the vomit had
spattered on her dress. He hoped not—it
was the peach satin, his favorite dress of hers. She'd worn it when they'd had the picnic
over the hold, after he'd dueled for her.
After he'd won her back from that hundan who had tried to buy her
exclusive services.
She made a face. "You'll understand if I don't kiss
you."
"Oh, sure, say you love
me, but let a little vomit get in the way and you're gone."
"I didn't say I love
you." Her eyes were very soft. She had such lovely eyes.
He'd be a happy man if he
could just drown in them for a month or so.
"You were just getting to that part." He looked up at her, waiting.
She began to open her mouth,
and he smiled. But then he felt nausea
come over him again.
"I love you enough to do
this," she said as she held the bowl under him, keeping him steady with
her other hand so he wouldn't move too much as he threw up.
She stood, walking to the
counter and bringing back the damp washcloth.
She began to wipe his mouth, but he took it from her, doing it himself.
"So proud."
"That's why you like
me."
She sat back down. "No, that's why I love you. I like you for some of your more admirable
traits."
"So
you do love me?"
"I just said it, didn't
I?" Her smile was the old one. The teasing one, and he felt something inside
relax.
Had he been afraid he'd lose
the woman he loved to spar with if he gained the woman he wanted to cleave to
so damn badly? "Just how much money
are we talking to book you all the time?"
"It depends."
"On what?"
"On when you're going to
get around to telling me you love me, too."
"Oh!" He laughed nervously. "Well, you know I do."
Her eyebrows went up; she was
clearly not amused. "You want to
hold your own bowl?"
"I love you." It wasn't as hard to say as he'd thought it
would be. Maybe it was the drugs?
"You're
feverish." She obviously thought he
wasn't in his right mind, either.
"I'll tell you I love
you when I get all better." He
suddenly felt tired. Tired and little
less hot. "I'll tell you every gorram day until you get sick of hearing it from me."
She leaned down, her lips
resting on his forehead. "Go to
sleep, Mal. I'll be here when you wake
up. We all will."
He could feel sleep coming
for him. "My family."
"Yes. Your family."
"Doc's going to operate
again. Make sure he leaves me
pretty. Don't want you hiding your face
in disgust."
She laughed softly. "You're assuming I'll keep the lights on
when I finally let you into my bed."
He grinned. Nope, his sparring partner was going nowhere
anytime soon. "I surely am, aren't
I?"
"Get some rest,
dearest." Her kiss was so sweet on
his cheek.
He closed his eyes. Felt Inara pull
away, but then her hand settled on his, the connection warm and soothing.
He could feel the pulse of Serenity all around him. Everything was all right, now. He was with the people who mattered
most. And they cared for him, too. They'd gone out and gotten him this fine
medicine that, when it wasn't making him upchuck, would cure him. Because this was home, and that's what family
did. They made you well and kept you
safe.
He let go and surrendered to
sleep. And when he dreamed, it wasn't
of Kuan Lo.
FIN