TITLE: Details of the War
AUTHOR: Niki
RATING: NC-17... eventually for graphic violence and teh sexin'.
PAIRING: Gen the moment. Mal/Inara, Simon/Kaylee, & River/Jayne eventually.
SUMMARY: "When Zoe left, he didn't leave his bunk."
A/N: This is one of those epic-y type fics. Oh god, what was I thinking!

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"She's just a... a girl!"

Kaylee's fingers clenched around Simon's wrist and she eased herself in front of him. Mal wouldn't hit him if she was standing right there. He wouldn't risk accidentally catching her instead of Simon.

She hoped.

"I thought we had a talk 'bout you givin' the orders on my boat, Doc." He clenched his jaw tight and Kaylee could see the vein in the side of his neck standing out against the skin. He was angry and it was taking everything that he had not to let his fist get intimate with Simon's mouth.

Simon pressed on, "She's a seventeen--"

"Eighteen," River corrected softly from the doorway. "She's eighteen years old and she would like to be treated like she is eighteen years old."

Simon's eyes widened and Kaylee could feel the fight going right out of him. "Eighteen?" He was doing the math in his head now. Subtracting dates and adding days and trying to figure out where in the last five months River's birthday had fallen.

"The twenty-second," River supplied, easing past the three of them to sit down at the table, tracing her fingernails over the grain of the wood, long dark tangles obscured her face. "She's ready, Captain."

"That's good, darlin'." A pause. "Ready for what?"

River blinked. "Her mission. You were going to give her a mission."

Simon's shoulders slumped and he let Kaylee lead him out of the mess hall, mumbling the entire time about River's birthday and trying to figure out how he'd missed it. How he'd forgotten something as important as his little sister's eighteenth birthday.

"We'll wait 'til Zoe and Jayne get back with the provisions and then--"

Serenity's decks tremored and the bay doors opened with a slow grinding and Jayne was bellowing Mal's name at the top of his lungs.

One hand on his gun, Mal went running for the bay with River close on his heels. The mule had tracked sand into the cargo bay and River ran her toes through the grains, making patterns and half-listening.

"There better be a damn good reason you flew in here like a bat outta hell yellin' my name like you was on fire," he threatened, trying to catch his breath.

"There's a war comin'," Zoe said quietly, her fingers clenched a little tighter on the butt of her Carbine and for the first time since they'd put Wash in the ground, there was a spark of something in her voice. Her eyes didn't gloss over Mal's and refocus on a point somewhere to the left of his head, they caught his and held them.

"The Browncoats are startin' up the movement again, Sir. Seems after Miranda there's some talk of the Parliament bein' weakened. People are getting tetchy over the broadcast, not trustin' in the government. They're callin' for volunteers. Anyone who's able and willin'."

Mal's eyes narrowed and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. His lips went white and his jaw clenched up like it did when he yelled at Simon.

River didn't have to know what he was thinking to read his body language.

"No," he said quietly. "Wars long over with now."

He turned, his back rigid and his face closed off. It was like someone had shut a door, none of his thoughts or emotions flickered over his face or made it to his eyes but it was obvious what he was feeling from the rigid set of his shoulders.

"Get this stuff unloaded and then get up to the mess. We got crime that needs doin'."

River's big, dark eyes darted over to Zoe. Her eyes were downcast and her mouth set in a hard line. Like she was struggling not to say something that she wanted to say. Needed to say.

For a minute, River saw shadows of the old Zoe in the set of her shoulders and the way her mouth pressed into a long, thin line when she was thinking hard on something. And then the ghost slipped away and Zoe's shoulders dropped and she moved towards the mule, hefting up a crate of the illegal munitions they were shipping to Beylix.

River drifted out of the bay, trailing sand on the soles of her feet, ghosting in Mal's footsteps. He was sitting in the mess, shoulders hunched forward and his revolver spread out on the table in front of him in pieces.

"Don't look like your brother is ever gonna get used to the idea of you comin' with us on jobs."

River shook her head, pulling her legs up to chin. "Simon won't let the caterpillar become a moth."

The Captain sat back in his chair, sizing her up and reaching for the bottle of inter-engine whiskey Kaylee had made what felt like years ago, when they were whole and loud and never quiet. "Moth?" he asked. "Don'tcha think you're sellin' yourself a little short? I think this caterpillar is more like to turn into a butterfly."

He drained the whiskey and re-assembled the revolver while they waited in silence for Zoe and Jayne to finish unpacking the cargo.

He hadn't cleaned the gun. She could see a trail of dark residue on the table top where the pieces had been sitting. He'd needed something to do with his hands. Something to occupy his mind besides the war and the Independents and Serenity Valley.

When Zoe and Jayne dragged themselves into the mess-- Jayne cursing a blue streak and Zoe looking like her skin weighed too much for her frail bones-- he'd taken the gun apart and re-assembled it four times.

"Sir."

Mal's head shot up and he met Zoe's eyes. Eyes that looked alive for the first time in the five months since Wash had died.

"I'm joining up, Sir."

River watched the flicker of emotions play across Mal's face before his features went hard and blank. He'd shut the door again and the only clues she had to what he was feeling was the way he held his body. His shoulders slumped forward slightly.

"I can't stop you, Zoe." His voice sounded tired. Everyone's voices sounded tired lately. Death and fights and fear had aged them all ten years and Zoe and Mal were wearing it the hardest.

"I know that, Sir," the first mate said, lifting up her head and locking eyes with him. "I'm not asking for your permission. I'm asking you to come with me."

Mal's jaw clenched tight and his fingers idly spun the revolvers chamber. "I already told you no, Zoe."

"You don't mean that, Captain."

"The hell I don't," he gave a brittle laugh. "I mean it sure as I'm sitting here. The war is done. We lost. We did what we had to on Miranda. We did the right thing. And we lost two good men 'cause of it. I don't aim to lose no more. It's over and it's best we just let it die down and keep tryin' to scrape out a living however we can. But if you aim to go, Zoe, I ain't gonna stop you. I ain't got the right."

"Are you really gonna walk away from this, sir? Have you really forgotten everything that we fought for? Everything that you fought for?" Zoe asked, her eyes blazing and her fingers gripping the edge of the table so hard that River half expected the thin skin covering her knuckles to crack.

"Ain't forgotten," he said firmly. "Just ain't got the heart to fight no more, is all."

"I'm going," Zoe repeated, her mouth set in a firm line. River was getting good at reading body language, picking up the tiny little movements that people made, the way they held themselves and the inflection in their voices when they spoke, rather than reading their thoughts. Zoe wasn't going to give in.

"Reckon you best get to packin' then." Mal's voice was tight when he stood up, shoving the weapon into the holster under his left arm and walking purposefully towards the door.

"Reckon I best," the first mate echoed, quietly.

When Zoe left, he didn't leave his bunk.