Mechanics

Kaylee had a bad couple of minutes once she got the explanation, but nobody's dead, there was only a little blood, and really, it could have been worse.

And she doesn't mind when they get Mal in the house and settled on the couch in the living room and Simon looks down at his pad and mutters that he has to take this at an incoming wave; it gives her a chance to pull up the cushy ottoman next to the couch and look at Mal with his plate -- because after he came all that way and did all that heroing, a man wants his dinner -- and sigh, resignedly.

It actually went well.

The beer can chicken has been picked over, the fake drunken chicken is 3/4 gone, and Sallie's pies are entirely gone.

Kaylee is busy carrying plates into the kitchen; her sweater is draped over a chair; an apron is on over her camisole; her hair is pinned up.

And she's smiling to herself, secret and pleased.

It's getting on past Kaylee's bedtime -- well after most of the rest of the crew's in bed. She's in the kitchen, damp-haired and in pajamas: long night on the ship in the garage equals a long hot shower before coming home and collapsing next to Simon for a few hours.

But. Tea first.

She stands in front of the range, leaning back against the counter opposite, and watches water boil. It's about as enthralling as it sounds.

The hotel in Logan City is a pretty nice one, a few blocks away from the port, and close to the city center.

It's morning; Kaylee's got an old read-only datapad, and she's bent over it, hair damp and freshly-clothed.

They're in the cargo bay. Not Serenity proper's cargo bay. They're in the Milliways garage.

Kaylee's let Mal use the blowtorch. He's not drunk this time, and she wants him in a good mood.

Over a break: "Give you one of my cookies if we can talk about something." Kaylee holds out a snickerdoodle.

In the dream, she's a real heartbreaker.

She takes them, over and over again, up in the arena where it looks like the sky goes on forever. She finds them, one by one, and tries them out, leaving a trail of crumpled bodies in her wake, and she remembers smiling as she takes each one.

Mal's comes first, and it's like a club, broad and heavy. She swings the sword hard and fast, but she doesn't know how to handle it. She lets it drop. Mal doesn't move.

Next is River. It takes her a moment to pin River down, but when she plunges her hand in the sword comes easily. It's thin, spindly, with a deep red jewel inset in the hilt. The kind of speed she's looking for, but too flexible. Kaylee rejects it and walks on. River stays, immobile.

Simon's heart is no weapon at all. She steps over his body, disgusted, and moves on.

Susannah Dean and Rose Toren get rejected. Their weapons, she knows, aren't hers -- Rose's almost fits, is almost what she's looking for, but in the end she stamps her feet with frustration (how unbefitting for a duelist!) and lets it drop as well. Rose's eyes stare glassy at the endless blue sky.

She likes the screams the best, she thinks.

And it's finally the vampire thing that she comes to take, at the last, to fight her enemy, to kill (she's come to set fire to your glamour). The vampire thing that looks like her. Kaylee sets out her palm and pulls, and feels her heart pull out of its body -- and keeps going. Like squeezing blood from a stone.

She pulls out her own heart and watches it beat. It looks like a jewel.

The vampire thing pulls her hair aside and sinks its teeth deep in her neck.

Kaylee starts to laugh as she falls. Her heart turns to sand in her hands. "Stop laughing," says a voice, "you're going to hell." She's laughing and laughing and she can't breathe but it's just so funny.













Kaylee's eyes snap open.

In the dim light that bleeds into their room from the corridor she can see the way out.

She carefully picks her way past Simon and slips out, leaving the door cracked.

Simon doesn't need constant attention any more. This means Kaylee can do things like clean up the kitchen and the living room.

She's recently filled up the hazardous-to-life-and-limb jerry-rigged humidifier; she has about half an hour before she needs to check on things again.

Maybe she'll go wild later and take a shower.

Her hands tremble minutely as she loads the dishwasher. A pot of soup is simmering on the stove; once that's done, she'll let it cool and put it in the cold box for later.