Home Is Where The Heartache Is
Rated: PG
Category: Pre-Series, Mal/OC Ship, Mal/Zoë Friendship, Mal Backstory (thus not canon).
Spoilers: General Series Knowledge.
Summary: What Exactly Did Mal Leave Behind On Shadow, Anyway?
Note: Written in response to the LJ prompt of 'shiny object' on ff_friday. Too long for the challenge, but keeping it anyway.
---
A glint of silver caught Mal's eye as he swept his socks to the front of their drawer in a vain attempt to find the match to the one in his hand.
Suddenly, socks were the last thing on his mind.
Mal picked up the shiny object and twirled it slowly in the fingers of his right hand while his left still clutched the solitary sock.
'God,' he thought. 'I'd managed to forget I still had this.'
Mal sat heavily on his bunk and sighed.
He could've done with staying forgetful.
XXX
Jenna'd never been real big on ceremony. She was as down to earth as Mal's ma, and that was probably what had first attracted Mal to her. Her pa had bought the Harper place down the road when Mal was seventeen, and Mrs. Reynolds had insisted that her strapping young lad help their new neighbors move in.
On moving day, Mal had grumbled and groused with all his might about being made to work against his will, but by the end of Jenna's first week in her new home, Mal never complained once about running housewarming gifts down the road, and more often than not, he could be found leaning on a fence post looking toward her place on any given afternoon.
A friendship sprang up fast. Jenna was just sixteen, but more world-savvy than any girl Mal had met on Shadow. She'd traveled the stars-been born shipside, even. Lived all her days on a transport in the black. Then her ma had died, and her pa just wanted to settle down somewhere.
They'd tried another world before Shadow, and Jenna'd learned real quick there about riding and roping and ranching. Mal made an ass of himself more than a few times by assuming she didn't know about his type of life and trying to show off or teach her something she already knew.
Jenna would laugh at his antics, mount the closest horse (saddled or not), and ride off, daring him to chase her.
He always did.
Long summer evenings were spent sitting and talking on porches. And unlike Jenna, Mal had a lot to learn. Her stories of space stations and shuttles and terrifying landings made Mal's head spin. He couldn't imagine leaving Shadow, but he had to admit that the black sounded interesting, to say the least.
Days were spent in chores. Mal's ma was far more prosperous than Jenna's pa, but Mrs. Reynolds was nothing if not charitable to those who worked hard, and Mal worked the old Harper place and its paltry herd nearly as much as he worked his own. Before long, the two ranches had developed a partnership, and both were as profitable as was needed.
And just like that, it happened.
Before they could blink, the vestiges of youth slipped away from Jenna and Mal.
They'd had only the flimsiest grip on childhood when they'd met, and no earth-shattering event changed that, but before either of them could realize it, their parents were aging, and their ranches still needed managed.
Mal started doing the books for his ma when she fell ill one winter and never stopped.
Jenna took to handling her cattle when her pa broke his leg and money was too short to hire another hand.
When a fire destroyed Jenna's books, Mal took to doing those, too.
When Mal was laid up with pneumonia the year he turned twenty, Jenna helped his mom keep the hands in order. They were good men, but sometimes they needed a bit of persuading to remember where their loyalties were supposed to lie.
And so it went.
Mal and Jenna never had time to meet anyone else, so they filled every need a man and woman could for each other. Stolen kisses from youth became much more, and while they both maintained the façade of complete independence in the form of two autonomous ranches, not a single person on their side of Shadow considered them as anything but a couple.
Hell, they were more family than most families on Shadow.
So it was no surprise when Mal showed up late one night and asked to talk to Jenna's pa alone. The old man had been expecting this for some time. Mrs. Reynolds had raised her boy in the old-fashioned way, after all. He ushered Mal inside the house with one hand.
"Come on in, son. What can I do ya for?"
Mal looked nervously around the kitchen and swallowed. "Is Jenna here?"
"Nope, but I suppose you already knew that she went out to check the herd. Am I right?"
Mal grinned. "Yes, sir. Saw her leave. Just wanted to be sure."
"So, is there somethin I can do for you, Malcolm?"
"Yes, sir, I believe there might be."
The old man smiled. "And?"
Mal swallowed again, hard, then spoke in a rush.
"I'm thinkin bout goin to fight in the war. I need you to look after my ma… and Jenna, too."
Now, Jenna's pa had had some shocks in his day, but never in a million years had he expected to hear these words tonight. Not from Mal. Sure, the boy was idealistic and brave, and the Alliance was pushing harder every day into these parts, but nobody'd ever figured Mal for a soldier. The man gave the only response he could.
"You and I both know those ladies don't need no lookin after."
Mal laughed. "True. But still… I'd feel better knowin you'd look after things."
"You know I will."
"Good."
"You gonna talk to Jenna bout it?"
Mal nodded. "Eventually… when I make up my mind for sure."
"I gotta tell you, boy, this ain't what I expected here tonight."
Mal laughed again, understanding completely. "Yeah, well… been thinkin on that, too…"
"Sounds like you've got some decisions to make."
"Yep."
"Well, you better get on home before Jenna gets back if'n you want to keep mum for a bit."
"Yeah." Mal stepped to the door, then spoke again. "This between us, then?"
Jenna's pa nodded. "For now."
Mal smiled. "Good enough."
XXX
It didn't take Mal long to make up his mind. The Alliance did it for him. A convoy bringing supplies to Shadow was destroyed, and half the children in the closest town died from a treatable illness from lack of medicine.
The Alliance claimed they thought the ship was carrying weapons, but that didn't matter.
Mal couldn't look at the faces of the grieving parents in town without his blood boiling. He had to do something, and fighting seemed like the only answer. His ma had told him that a man shouldn't go looking for a fight, but that when one came looking for him, he should defend himself and his to his dying breath.
So he would.
He just had one thing to take care of first.
XXX
"Malcolm Reynolds! How dare you suggest such a thing!" Jenna screamed across her kitchen. "If you honestly think I'm going to sit back and let you go fight in some gorram war, you're outta your gorram mind!"
Mal moved his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He'd expected Jenna to be upset, but he'd thought she'd understand his reasons for wanting to fight.
"If you think for one minute that I'm gonna let you do this by yourself, you're insane!"
Mal blinked. By himself? Sudden realization dawned and he shook his head.
"No. No way, Jenna."
Jenna crossed her arms and stared Mal down.
"And why not?"
"Cause, uh…"
"That's what I thought. There ain't no reason for me not to go. You said yourself that there's women fighters."
"Jenna."
"Don't you 'Jenna' me, Mal. You know I'm every bit as capable of this as you are."
"Don't doubt it for a second."
"Then what's your problem?"
"Somebody's gotta stay here, Jenna. Look after our folks."
Jenna mulled that over a bit. "True. They ain't as young as they used to be."
"And I'd just rather it was you, alright?"
"You and you're old-fashioned heroics. Mal, you could stay just as easy. At least I been off this god-forsaken rock before! You won't last two seconds in the black, or anywhere else for that matter!"
Mal felt anger swallow him whole. "I'll last as long as any man out there!"
"Yeah, if pride was bullets!"
Pride was indeed something Mal had in spades, and it nearly didn't let him concede that Jenna had a point. For a long moment, he stood trembling, fighting the urge to throw an insult back at her. But as usual, Jenna was right, and he knew it. Eventually, the anger left Mal. He sighed. He had to admit that he was pretty green. He tried a different approach-the only one left to him. He begged.
"Jenna… just let me do this. Please?"
Jenna sighed. She seemed to deflate a bit, then she shrugged. "Fine. I can't stop you. But do me a favor?"
"Anything."
Jenna walked to a cabinet and reached her hand up to the top shelf. She pulled down an old beer stein and flipped open the lid. Mal stepped up behind her just as she turned around, holding something small and shiny in one hand.
"Take this."
Jenna reached for Mal's hand and opened his fingers with her own. Then she placed a silver wedding band in his palm. Mal's throat went dry. The ring was old, and slightly tarnished, but still beautiful. It was engraved with an intricate braided design on the outside. Mal had never seen men's jewelry so pretty.
He stared at the ring for an eternity.
Finally, Jenna playfully smacked him on the chest. "Well?"
"I don't understand," said Mal.
"It was my ma's pa's. She gave it to me fore she died. Wanted me to have it, you know, in case I…"
Mal's brow furrowed in confusion. "Jenna?"
Jenna laughed. "You ain't never gonna ask me, Malcolm Reynolds. So I'll do this my own self. You go fight your war. But you make damn sure you come back in one piece to marry me or I'll kill you myself."
Mal couldn't have argued if he wanted to. He grabbed Jenna in his arms and kissed her, hard. When he was done, he looked her right in the eyes and grinned.
"Yes, ma'am."
XXX
Mal wore that ring when he enlisted. He wore it through basic. He wore it, in fact, for his entire first tour, and then some. He was still wearing it when he learned to cut his fruit.
But he wasn't wearing it on Hera. It didn't make the trip through Serenity Valley on his finger.
A simple wave changed that.
It came from Shadow.
It was long old by the time it found its way to Mal, but that was just as well, really, as there wasn't a damn thing he could do with the news it brought other than get piss drunk three nights in a row, anyway.
The 57th was furloughed when it came, but while most of the men were carousing, Mal was nowhere to be seen.
Zoë found him in his bunk, nursing a nearly empty bottle and not saying a word. The bottle didn't concern her, but the quiet did. She'd seen her Sarge pissing in the wind many times before, but he usually did so with a smile on his face and a song on his lips, much to the chagrin of those around him.
So when she found anything but a happy drunk, Zoë merely sat down beside Mal.
He looked her over for a moment, with eyes that seemed barely able to stay open, and then passed her his bottle without a word. Several large swallows of liquor later, she handed it back. They took turns like that until Mal passed out. When he did, Zoë gently took the portable wave device out of Mal's hand and watched the wave meant for him alone.
A young man appeared on the screen.
Mal,
It's Johnny Longfin, from town. I hope this gets to you. You need to know. I hate to be the one to do this, but there's no one left, Mal. You probably know the Alliance set down on Shadow, and it's bad, but that ain't the worst of it. Sickness all over the place, Mal. Like before, but worse. Took Jenna's pa first, then your ma. Jenna, well, I thought she'd missed it, bein young, but we put her in the ground last week, Mal. They're all gone. The land's still yours, if'n you want it. Both pieces. Won't do nothin with it til we hear from you. I'm sorry, Mal. I truly am.
The transmission ended, and Zoë slid the wave back into Mal's hand.
She downed the rest of Mal's bottle and settled into the neighboring bunk for the night.
She stayed there three days. Brought Mal his meals, not that he ate them, and shared the liquor he spent every extra dime on. She talked when he seemed to need talking and just sat when he didn't. She told the men Mal was sick, and they didn't question her.
On the fourth day, Mal woke and reached for his bottle to find it empty. He looked quizzically at Zoë.
"All out, then?"
Zoë nodded.
Mal nodded back thoughtfully and chewed on the inside of his lip.
"Guess it's time to get up then, huh?"
"Yes, sir, it is."
"Alright. Let's go."
And that was the end of it. Other than a few reckless decisions in battle over the next several weeks that only Zoë cared enough to notice, Mal seemed fine. He wasn't, of course, but his only other choice was dying, and that wasn't much of a choice at all, so he managed. He took his ring off that morning and tucked it into his chest pocket. It stayed there until the Alliance took it away with the rest of his personal effects during his processing after Serenity Valley.
XXX
They'd returned it, amazingly, and it had traveled with Mal ever since.
But like most things from before the war, it had somehow fallen through the cracks of Mal's life. Out of sight and out of mind, it had probably been in the back of his sock drawer for years.
He played with the ring now and lost all track of time. His mismatched sock pulled double duty as a polishing cloth, and soon the ring shone like nearly new. He was so lost in his memories that he never heard the hatch to his quarters swing open. When a dark, slender hand landed on his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Zoë!"
"Sir."
"What're you doin here?"
"Just came to tell you chow's on."
"Oh. Ok."
Zoë started to leave, not at all confident Mal would follow. She turned as she reached the ladder leading up to Serenity and looked at Mal thoughtfully for a moment. He felt her eyes on him and looked up at her.
"What?" he asked.
Zoë nodded toward the shiny silver ring in Mal's palm. "Upset cause you remember? Or cause you forgot?"
Mal was silent for a long moment.
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
"That's usually the way of it. You comin to eat?"
Mal sighed, then set the ring on his nightstand. He nodded, almost to himself.
"Yeah. I'm comin to eat."
Zoë turned and ascended the ladder. "Well, you better hurry. Kaylee made some sort of flapjack. Won't last long."
Mal stood, dropped his solitary sock to the floor, and followed his first mate.
Moments later, as Kaylee shoveled a very fair approximation of a pancake onto his plate with her usual cheerfulness, Mal met Zoë's eyes across the table. She raised her eyebrows at him in a silent question of 'you ok?'
Mal nodded, and a ghost of a smile danced across his lips.
"I'm alright," he mumbled, just loud enough for Zoë to hear.
And that was the truth of it. As he looked up and down the table at his ragtag crew, Mal was indeed alright. He wasn't great, but he was alright. His road to this place had been a hard one, and there were spots that he certainly wouldn't mind erasing, but he knew that no other path would've led him to this moment. No other journey would've led him to Serenity.
And while Serenity currently held a perfect silver circle of heartache, she also held a perfect living circle of heart. Serenity was right where Mal needed to be.
Serenity was home.