gonna_live | (no subject)

It's a common enough place for Mal to be, and Kaylee's footfalls are easy to identify; River never wears boots that heavy, and Zoe always walks towards the bridge at a faster clip.

"It's late," Mal notes kindly, without turning around. "Ain't you tired any?"

"What's that got to do with it bein' late?" Mild, as she rests a hand on the back of the copilot's chair. "Like you never stayed up past your bedtime."

"Like I ever had a bedtime. Ma been telling stories again?" It's a rhetorical question, and a useless one even if it weren't.

A) Ma would always tell stories, if Kaylee would listen, and,
B) Yes indeed, at one point or other Malcolm Reynolds did have a bedtime.

But Kaylee wasn't looking for him for anything resembling family history, and Mal breathes in and out evenly.

Placid: "What do you need, Kaylee?"

"I just -- "

She's looking out at the black. " -- wanted to... to talk. About... stuff."

"...Yes." There's a lift in tone towards levity, even if Mal's expression doesn't betray too much. "Stuff is nice."

She leans on the back of the chair. "That's kind of what I wanted to check on. Whether or not it's nice, I mean."

"Depends on what stuff we're talkin' on. There's lots of stuff." That statement must have been rhetorical too; Mal imagines there's only one topic Kaylee would be interested in at the moment to see whether it is 'nice' or not.

"Did you seriously expect me to be happy about it?" Mal asks the viewscreen.

"'Course not," Kaylee says to the second star on the right. "You think I am, all the way?"

No direct response.

"It's good that you 'n Simon are doing this together. No such thing as weekend marriage. So I hear."

"You know that's the only reason I'm doin' this."

A lot quieter.

"The only one."

I'm not so sure it should be.

"That's nice to hear." And it is. Mal's attentions finally turn to the woman in the copilot's chair, watching her for a second. The second stretches out while Mal tries to remember the last time he saw Kaylee in pigtails.

"If you come back without calluses on your hands, I swear I am not letting you touch my boat."

"Captain -- "

Kaylee is still looking straight ahead. For a moment her lips press in a flat line.

"I'm doin' this because I don't think I can take losin' him again. And that's what would happen, if he went and I stayed. Can you -- do you get that? How easy it'd be for us to break for good?"

Fragile in the quiet: "Shi a. Think I can wrap my head around it.

"I never said you weren't doin' what needed doing."

"But it don't mean you're gonna look on either of us kindly for it."

"Your marriage needs to be more important to you than my opinion. And my opinion ain't all that bad in the first place."

"First I'm hearin' of it." A little darkly. "Captain -- that's what I'm tryin' to find out."

"You're tryin' to figure out if you stayin' with Simon is worth leaving?" Mal assumes questioningly. His hand moves up to his mouth; Mal's either hiding or trying to figure out what to rutting say. "Suppose I should be flattered.

"You sound like you want me to say that I want you to go. Ain't gonna happen."

"I want to know that I'm not gonna regret this as far as you and me go. When we come back."

("Do you really think that Kaylee would lie to you? Break a promise to come back?")

Mal shakes his head.

"Can't say for sure. Ain't a reader and all."

Maybe Mal will go talk to Alice.

Finally: "You and I are square. Don't see it changing any."

"You in the space where you can promise that?"

It's a little muffled. Kaylee's scrubbing at her face.

Mal's eyes roll back to Kaylee again. Solemnly, "I only get in trouble when I make promises I can't guarantee my own self. But if you want me to, the sentiment's there."

"...would you take this seriously?"

She swivels in the chair to look at him. "Please?"

"Just what exactly is making you think I'm not, Kaylee?"

Mal shifts in tandem with Kaylee's movements, exasperated and confused. "The last time anybody asked me for a promise to do or not do anything, I was being truthsome when I said that I couldn't promise it, and I damn near had a mutiny on my hands.

"You either get me being truthful, or me lyin' to make you feel better. And the truth, Kaylee, is that I can't promise what ain't happened yet. But Serenity --" Mal's voice slips on the the ship's name. "My ship? Is as much yours as she is mine. If not more.

"Your home is here."

Til you find a better.

"Do the job you're planning to do. I...I ain't going anywhere."

Edited 2008-11-25 23:53 (UTC)

Kaylee's eyes are a little too bright. Her arms are tightly folded, like she's trying to keep something in.

Faint: "I just don't want you to be mad at me."

(She sounds about as young as the words.)

"Yes."

She told Mal to be serious. He is.

"Then don't take me not bein' happy as me not bein' happy at you. Everybody wins."

"You're not happy because of somethin' I'm doin'," she counters. "It's the same thing."

"It would be if you woke up one morning and decided to screw with me. That what you did?"

"Not... not that deliberate, but -- that's the effect of it, ain't it?"

"Don't know if you noticed at all, but I tend to keep towards what folk mean rather than what the effect o' things is."

"Captain..."

She's shaking her head. "I remember what you get like when folks leave. Even if it's just for a bit."

"Hmm." Mal leans his chin into the palm of his hand, elbow against his knee for balance. "I assume too much that I'm the only one with the long memory.

"...We do still have our project."

"And I told you I wasn't givin' up on it." She swipes under her eyes. "'Less you want me to."

"Can't manage it by myself."

Quickly after, "I can manage a lot by myself. Just. Not that, specifically."

"Not if you want her to fly right, anyway." It's mumbled.

Snort, chin still precariously in one hand.

"Still. We got time."

You promise? she almost asks, but catches herself.

Because that one's not fair to ask.

Instead she turns back toward the black, slumping back in the chair. "Okay." Soft, and tired. "I just... I'm doin' the right thing, but that don't mean I feel good about it."

"That's the thing about command decisions." Mal doesn't elaborate.

"You stayin' up? It's later."

Kaylee eyes him. "Maybe. Why?"

"Hmm? No reason particular."

There's no real indication of a subject change or repressed topic, any desire to avoid expressing a conscious thought.

Mal swivels back and leans forward over the control panels accessible to the pilot's chair, reaching up to three switches which get flipped in an incomprehensible order.

The resulting effect is music: rigged to be sure from some set of speakers Mal probably won in a bet. They sound awful. Mal is smirking.

"...you tryin' to drive me out?"

Mal is shocked.

"Thought I would take advantage of my newfound schooling."

"I didn't mean you should use it for nefarious purposes." Kaylee swivels a little in her chair. "Wash is gonna flip his lid in the morning."

"I could turn the volume up, watch it happen now."

The prospect is amusing, but Mal doesn't move.

"And then you'd have Zoe on you too 'cause Naomi would wake up and holler." Matter of fact. "You really want that?"

"Naomi would forgive me."

Or not.

A thumb towards one of the lockers behind Mal to the right. "If you want to jack with my perfectly legitimate musical selection."

The jacking, it appears, will commence shortly, judging by how fast Kaylee's out of that chair.

Instead: some kind of song about stars.

Kaylee settles back in her chair. "Much better."

Mal exaggerates a very nasal snore. If he had popcorn, he'd throw it.