home * fandoms * firefly * bottom WARNING: If you haven't read the warning on the index page, go back and read it. If you don't, and you don't like what you find here, don't come crying to me. Title: The Empty Sky Author: Eleanor K. Fandom: Firefly Pairing: Mal/Simon Rating: PG Posted: 27 Jan 2003 Spoilers: for Objects in Space, Out of Gas, Serenity. Email: emungere@gmail.com Series/Sequel: The series: Fuzzy, Tokens, Intersections, The Widening Gyre, The Empty Sky. Disclaimer: Joss is god, and I don't even play one on TV. Notes: Thanks once again to Cabiria, comma Nazi. She's the bestest. ..___.. She's not really *aiming* the gun at Simon, Mal tells himself. She's just holding it, and it happens to be pointing in that direction because Simon's talking to her. Because Simon has to play hero and try to talk her out of this when Mal's *seen* how damned unreasonable she is when the crazy mood is on her, when Simon *knows* how stupid this is, or should know, *will* know because Mal's going to shove it down his throat just as soon as-- He twists the gun out of her hand with relief that he won't, can't show. He pops the clip and checks it. "Fully loaded, safety off. This here's a recipe for unpleasantness." He looks at Simon. "Does she understand that?" "She understands," River says. "She doesn't comprehend." This once can't she make sense? "Well, I'm glad we've made that distinction. No touching guns. Okay?" "No touching." She turns away, nearly running. Simon calls after her, but she doesn't stop. "It's getting very, very crowded!" Mal takes a deep breath and turns to Simon. "Thought she was on the mend." "Her medications are erratic. There's...there's not one that her system can't eventually break down, and--" Simon's ready to give him the girl's whole case history here, so Mal cuts him off. "When I want a lot of medical jargon, I'll talk to a doctor." "You are talking to a doctor." He forgets that sometimes. The doctor thing gets lost in everything else that Simon is. He's talking to the man who could've died a few minutes ago. He's talking to River's brother. He's talking to the guy who slammed him up against the wall and kissed him senseless-- And now is so not the time to be thinking about that. "Yeah, okay, my point is it could've been you she might have shot just then. The doctor, as you just made note of. And who exactly could fix you? Not nobody. We're deep in space, corner of No and Where. You take extra care with her. 'Cause we are very much alone out here." There. That was...calm. Reasonable. All the things he is trying so hard to be around Simon. "She wasn't going to shoot me. She wouldn't do that." "I think maybe you need to face up to the fact that there's times that girl don't know what she's doing." "She wouldn't hurt me," Simon repeats. He glances at the gun in Mal's hand. "Thank you for your assistance, Captain. I should see to my sister now." Mal watches him go, feeling slightly ill with the aftermath of sudden fear coursing through him. He focuses on the gun in his hand and goes to look for Jayne. *** After he takes some of his frustration out on Jayne, after Kaylee drops her bombshell on their heads, Mal watches Simon leave. Watches Kaylee go after him. He's been pushing them together since he started pushing Simon away. Up until just a few days ago Simon has seemed intent on the two of them going on as they always have, but Kaylee... He didn't want to hurt her. That wasn't the plan. He just wanted to get Simon the hell away from him. He waits a second or two and goes after them without knowing why. He catches up in the hall, just in time to hear Kaylee nearly pleading with Simon, just in time to see-- And then Book walks past and stops the kiss before it starts. Mal slumps against the wall, holding his head. It's been weeks now. Weeks of watching Simon and Kaylee dance around each other, weeks in which he has tried with every waking breath not to touch Simon, not to get nearer than he has to, not to make things worse than they are. Funny how things keep right on getting worse without any contribution from him. He can target the minute and second when Simon gave up on him. Simon was sewing up his hand--kitchen accident, add five more stitches to the tally--and leaned across him to reach for the scissors. It was on purpose, Mal is sure. They looked at each other, faces so close, Simon's breath gentle on his cheek, across his mouth. He didn't weaken. Looked down, looked away, and didn't kiss him. Even now he doesn't know how he managed it. Even now he wants to be back there and-- But he doesn't get to do that. Not ever again. And now Simon is looking to Kaylee, exactly as he was supposed to, and Mal isn't sure he can stand it. "Sir?" He turns, startled and hoping it doesn't show. "What?" "Can I talk to you?" Zoe asks. "In private?" He agrees, surprised but relieved. Something else to think about would be most welcome right now. In private turns out to be in his bunk. "Got your husband's permission for this?" he asks as she climbs down after him. "Wouldn't want him to get the wrong impression, you coming down here." She crosses her arms and just looks at him. "All right," he sighs. "What's on your mind?" "I didn't much like the doc or his sister when they came on board," she says. "But there aren't a whole lot of people I do like, so that won't surprise you." "You got that right." She gives him a quelling look. "Don't reckon you much liked them either." "Right again." "That was then. They've grown on all of us." "Yeah...?" He can't guess yet where she's going with this, but he's fairly certain he won't like it. "What are you doing with Simon?" He stares at her for a second. "Nothing!" "Well, maybe that's the problem then, 'cause any fool can see he wants you to." "Zoe!" Can't believe she just said that. "This is none of your business!" "When you're acting like you're acting, it is my business." "Oh, and how am I acting exactly?" "Nervy. Jumpy. Thought it was maybe because of Niska, but it ain't, is it." The way she says it, it's not a question. "This ain't you, Captain. Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll shut up on the subject forever more." "You're wrong," he says at once. "You're lying, sir." Hell's bells. He drops onto the bed, defeated. She knows him way too well. "Why won't you?" She sits beside him. "There's got to be a reason." He sighs. "Whatever I touch turns to shit. You know that." "If you're calling Serenity shit, I'm telling Kaylee on you." He manages a smile at that. "Serenity's different. She's...part of me." "And what about me?" Her voice is quiet and serious. "You calling me shit, then?" "I fucked up your marriage but good without even knowing I was doing it." "Wash and I fucked up our marriage all on our own. You didn't know because you weren't doing anything. And I didn't say my marriage. I said me." He glances over at her, just for a second. She is calm, waiting. Always the rock at his back. Always steady where he falters. "You're part of me, too," he admits. She accepts it easily. Maybe she already knew. "And Simon?" she asks. He doesn't know. He doesn't know what Simon means to him or could mean to him. Doesn't know what to do now. River-- Mal had the shit scared out of him tonight by that girl, huge gun pointed right at her brother like she didn't even know what it was. Fully loaded, safety off. One slip. He doesn't want her off the boat, but he's not sure that's sense talking and not just him wanting to keep Simon close. He can't afford to have his feelings clouding things, and they are, and he can't see clear any more, not where Simon is concerned. He wants to just ask Zoe straight out what to do, let her make the decision, but he can't. He's the captain. "I don't know," is all he can say. "You think you don't deserve him." A short laugh escapes him. "I know I don't deserve him." "And I don't deserve Wash." He looks at her, surprised, and she is looking back at him, more serious than usual, which, for Zoe, is saying something. She goes on. "After what we've done, we deserve all the bad the 'verse has to throw at us. You and I both know that. But Wash don't know that, and neither does the doc. I make Wash happy," she says quietly. "And he does deserve that. Maybe you should be thinking about what you can do for Simon. Maybe this time it just ain't about you." He can't answer, but she doesn't seem to expect him to. He watches her climb up the ladder and hears the door close behind her. His mind is empty, all the well-worn thought tracks blasted clean. After a moment of mental quiet he stands and climbs up to the hall. The plan was to look for Simon, but he stalls in the kitchen. Familiar things--chairs, cutting board, spice rack--are new to him and somehow threatening. His brain feels like it's shorted out. He can't go to Simon in this state. He might say anything. Tea. Yes, that he can handle. Water put on to boil, spoonful of tea leaves--Inara's Silver Needle; he will have to confess later and pay her back--in the strainer. Pour. Wait while it steeps. The first sip burns on the way down. Full taste, light and rich at the same time. Tastes the way he used to imagine rain ought to when he was a child. Filled up with sky. He thinks of Simon. Of what Zoe said. Has he really been that stupid? That selfish? He sits still, moving only his hand to tilt the cup to his mouth. After a time he gets up, on autopilot as much as his ship is right now, and walks back to his bunk. On his bed, back against the wall, he finishes his tea and listens to Serenity. There's something... He's being paranoid. There is nothing out here but them. He waits, but the feeling doesn't go away. Something wrong. It won't hurt to check. A quick tour of the ship, and then he can get some sleep. He climbs up and gives the hall a quick glance. Nothing there, of course. He rounds the corner. There's nothing-- He can't quite believe what he's seeing, and he hesitates just a second too long. *** There is a voice. Fading in and out. Soft, dreamy words. None of them make any sense. Mal gets his eyes open, and, as the room resolves around him, the words resolve into sentences, statements, and finally, meaning. "You're talking to Serenity. And, Early, Serenity is very unhappy." Things don't always make sense for a while when he first comes around, but this is a little more weirdness than he's used to coping with. He gets to his feet. There's something wrong, and right now that's all he can remember. "What the hell's going on here?" "I need you to do me a favor, Captain." River's voice, definitely. Serenity has a voice, too, and it's different. Professional, mechanical. He still dreams of it sometimes--*Jeo-shung yong-jur goo-jang. Jien-cha yong-chi gong yin.* Life support failure. Check oxygen levels immediately. Over and over again. Things aren't that bad this time. His ship isn't dying. He grabs onto a pipe above his head for support and tries to think. What is it this time? Oh, yeah. "There was a guy. He was very blurry. You gotta be careful." He stops for a moment, waiting for things to come clear, but they just don't. "How come there's a guy on board, and how come you're all of a sudden the ship?" "I know you have questions," says River's voice. "That would be why I just asked them." Although it doesn't explain why he thinks she should have the answers. "But there isn't time, Captain. I need you to trust me." Really, this is too weird even for his life. That guy came out of *nowhere*, and now the crazy girl is the one with the plan to save the day? "Am I dreaming?" he asks, half hoping the answer will be yes. "We all are." Oh, that's helpful. Yes, cryptic bullshit is *exactly* what he needs right now, thank you so much. "Don't make faces." He catches himself looking around the room. River is *not* the damn ship. "Listen, Captain. I have a plan." He listens. He listens to River, and it's a decent plan she's come up with, but he also listens to the conversation coming from the bridge. River must have all the comms on Serenity engaged, because over and behind her voice he gets whispers, snatches of other voices. When she is silent, those voices come clear. The man, Early, is talking about some troublesome midget, and Mal has to wonder again if this is a dream, but honestly most of his dreams are a lot more straight forward than this. "It's soon now," says River's voice. "Are you ready?" "How do you know what this guy's going to do?" "I'm very close to him. He doesn't even see it." "Okay, but--" "Go now!" Mal finds out that there's still a part of him that can take orders. He's up the ladder and around the corner so fast his aching head is literally spinning, and he has to lean against the wall for a second. Then it's down to the cargo bay. River's voice echoes around him as he gets the suit on and steps into the airlock. It cuts out when he puts the on helmet, but then he turns on the comm unit, and it's back. He can hear the bounty hunter, too, sounding scared. Just at the edge of hearing, he thinks he can make out Zoe's voice as well and maybe Wash's. He's listening, he realizes, for Simon, but Simon isn't saying anything. He opens the airlock door and steps out. Sounds of his own breathing, magnified, and of River's monologue. "I'll be your bounty, Jubal Early." Sounds of the crash and thud of one body hitting another. Of a shot. Mal is frozen, still as space. He hears River scream. He knows. There is no question in his mind. Simon is dead, and it's his fault. It's a cold knowledge. No real emotion is attached to it. Floating at Serenity's side, anchored loosely by his grip on the outside of the airlock door, he gets a feeling of time speeded up, of the future to come. They'll send Simon's body out into the black. Drifting in a cheap casket until some planet's gravitational field picks him up, or a star swallows him whole. Mal will go on without him, day after day, without seeing his face or feeling the brush of his hand as they pass in the corridor. Without ever seeing his smile again or hearing his voice. The knowledge slots into place, and all he can feel is...empty. And so damned tired, because in the end it changes nothing. He still has a job to do. His crew will still need him. Life will continue, and then, someday, it won't. That's the way it is, and he can't even manage to feel angry about it any more. He blinks, and the stars jump. He is suddenly aware of his pulse pounding in his ears, of the rasp of his breath. Aware, too, of a sound below the beat of his pulse. River's voice. "Can you hear me? He's okay. Only in the leg, and he got up afterward. Jumped him again. Simon's okay. Captain, can you hear me?" It takes a second to get his voice working, but it sounds fine when he speaks. "I hear you." He wonders how long she's been trying to tell him that. "Outside now. On the ship. Hurry." He pushes himself upward, the hull skimming along beneath him. He drifts up and up, spots the bounty hunter by the hatch. "You made the right move, darlin'," the man says. "Best for you to go on with old Early." "You think so?" he says, voice perfectly calm and steady. "Some of us feel differently." It would be easier, more certain, to cut the air hose. He has a knife for that purpose strapped to his suit. The push that sends the man spinning out into space isn't what he had planned. Less certain. More cruel. The man arcs around the pulse wave generated by his ship's engine, accelerating into the distance. It will be a slow death. Mal watches him go and can find nothing to feel about that, either. River floats down like dandelion fluff, reaching out to him. He takes her hands and draws her close. She smiles up at him, bright and blinding. "Permission to come aboard?" He can't send her away now. Even if it were the right choice, his crew would skin him alive for the suggestion after that speech she gave. He wonders if that wasn't part of her reason for giving it, but then he's a suspicious bastard. "You know, you ain't quite right." He has the eeriest feeling when he says it, like it could just as easily be her saying it to him. Like maybe it is, and he doesn't know it. "It's the popular theory." He smiles at her, and it doesn't even feel forced. "Go on. Get in there. Give your brother a thrashing for messing up your plan." She pulls a face, rolls her eyes. "He takes so much looking after." Don't he just, Mal is thinking. Don't he just. *** It is late, nearly morning by the clock. Mal stands at the foot of the stairs by the infirmary. The only light is a dim glow from Book's room. Everyone has gone their separate ways, looking to get a few hours of rest before it's time to get up. Even Jayne has gone back to bed. The man could sleep through anything, which makes Mal wonder how he's stayed alive so long. Most mercenaries are not heavy sleepers. Mal knows he should be in bed himself, but he gets as far as the top of the stairs before turning around and coming straight back down. He walks carefully, as if any step might set off a land mine. Now he stands outside Simon's door. He barely looked at Simon after it was all over, never once caught his eye. Said hardly a word to him. He slides the door open and closes it behind him. He pulls a chair close and sits by Simon's bed, watching his face by the light from the hall. Shadows built on shadows, just barely translated into form. He remembers the moment when Simon forced him to run from that Alliance ship, to start the battle up again. It was the first time in years that anyone forced him to do anything, and he was ready to kill Simon for it, but... Wash called down to the infirmary when they were clear, and something inside Mal sang at the news that they'd gotten away with it. Let the Alliance humps eat their dust. He thinks that was when he got this sliver of hope stuck under his skin, somewhere he couldn't reach to pull it out. Not that he was aware of it back then. Didn't really get it until he came back on board tonight and saw Simon's eyes searching for his. He understood when he felt that emptiness in him filled up again. Simon, alive and warm and smiling at him, was more cause for hope than Mal has had in...a long time. He slides out of the chair and kneels on the floor beside the bed, leaning close, taking Simon's hand in his and letting his fingers close over the pulse point. Steady and strong. He brushes the hair back from Simon's forehead and, after a second's hesitation, kisses his temple. He tries to picture himself making Simon happy, and it just doesn't work. He's never made anyone happy that he can remember, except when he's handing out the bonuses or announcing shore leave. It wouldn't work, he tells himself. Things don't work like that for me. Why not? The thought startles him. He's never questioned it before. Why not? They just don't, that's all. He stands, places Simon's hand gently back on the bed, and walks to the door with every intention of leaving. He stands there a minute, two minutes, staring at the translucent plastic panels, and then turns back. He settles into the chair again and stretches his legs out in front of him. It won't hurt to stay a while. ------- ..end.. 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