Author's Note: Hi. Sorry I haven't been updating. I just have had a lot going on. First, school. I have a new ongoing silent feud with my English teacher, whom I hate. Lots of homework too (on the second day! Freaking junior year.). Plot twist: I hate English and love chemistry. Go figure. Also, my sister just got married two days ago and my other sister is getting married in a month. To top that off, I'm probably going to be moving soon (for unnamed reasons, though my dad won't be coming with us. So that may give it away...) and it may be hard to update. Anywayyyyy, I hope you enjoy!
"There will be a dinner on the main deck for all passengers able to attend. Food will be served at six. Please wear your best attire."
"Uuuuggghhhhhh!" is Mal's response to the last bit, causing Natara to grin.
"Oh, come on," she teases. "You look so handsome when you dress up!"
He has no complaints after that.
Exactly fifteen people, including Natara and Mal, are guests on the ship and every one of them resolved themselves to the task of a group dinner that evening. Thirteen of them are already more than acquainted with each other. The other two are the strangers from San Fransisco in Room Four.
"I. Hate. Ties." Mal announces through gritted teeth.
"Are you dressed yet?" Natara calls from behind the bathroom door, where she had been changing.
"Yeah," he mumbles, playing with his tie. "You can come out now."
"I hope this isn't too fancy," Natara says, emerging with a light blush on her cheeks. "All of my other clothes are work clothes and...Mal?" She laughs. "Close your mouth, Detective Fallon, we have to go."
The ship's main deck is not, in all clarity, elegant, but the staff appear to have tried their best to make it seem so. There is a singular, long table in the center and all of the usual chairs and games have disappeared. In their place are fifteen uniform chairs surrounding the table, on which sits a feast. Mal's eyes get percievably wider at the sight of the vast quantity of it.
"All for us?" he asks hoarsely.
"Probably. And maybe the other thirteen guests," Natara replies.
The aforementioned thirteen others then enter as one, as if on cue. Natara looks at them skeptically, but Mal has eyes for nothing but the food before him. He grabs Natara's hand and drags her to their seats.
"Mal, do you think that they seem a little-?"
"Shh," Mal interrupts breathlessly, pointing to the table. "Food, Nat. Food time, okay?"
She frowns and mutters, "Yeah. Okay."
He takes an enormously ravonous bite of chicken. "Somefink wong?" he asks, looking at her curiously.
Natara peers around at their fellow guests and frowns. "Something just seems...off," she answers quietly.
Natara and Mal are not, it becomes apparent, the only ones being excluded. One man sits across the table, staring intently at his plate which contains minimal food. Mal glances over at him.
"Hey," Mal says. The man jumps briefly, startled at being acknowledged. His hair is grey and receeding, his clothes tattered and worn. He appears to be sinking into his seat - successfully - wishing to remain unnoticed. This is accomplished solely by his size. The small amount of food in front of him could have been a surplus for how thin and frail he looks. He seems to be intimidated by Mal and settles on looking at Natara instead. "That isn't a whole lot of food," Mal observes.
"Mal," Natara hisses and elbows him. "Rude."
"It's quite alright," the man answers weakly, smiling appreciatively at Natara and inclining his head. He speaks with a vaguely British accent. "My name is Edward Young."
Natara shakes his hand and Mal sits, watching uncomfortably.
"I'm Natara Williams," she says and nods to Mal on her left. "And this is my partner Mal Fallon."
"Partner?" Young says, dropping Natara's hand abruptly. "I wasn't aware you two were...involved."
After a brief coughing fit over her water, "We're not," Natara says forcefully.
"Oh," Young says.
"What she means to say is that we're work partners," Mal amends. "Nothing else. I'm a detective and Natara's a special agent for the FBI."
"Oh." Young pauses. "Well, I'd best be going. I hope to see you again sometime soon," he says, not removing his eyes from Natara's. "It's been a pleasure meeting you."
He stands and walks through the doorway to their rooms. Natara returns to her food, but Mal's eyes remain fixed on the place where Edward Young disappeared.
"What's the matter?" Natara asks.
"I don't like him."
"Why not?"
Mal shakes his head and slowly picks his fork back up.
"Natara! Hurry up!" Mal calls. "You aren't the only one that needs to pee!"
A knock interrupts his desperate pleading. Mal opens the door cautiously, not having a visitor previously.
"Er, hello," says Edward Young.
"And what do you want?" Mal asks. Young stares at him. "She's in the bathroom, so it looks like you'll have to settle for telling me."
He hesitates for a second before turning away uncertainly, but Mal grabs his arm.
"Sorry to disappoint. I know you came here for a gorgeous FBI agent and got stuck with me."
Young hesitates for another second before saying finally, "The...the FBI... They know how to protect people, don't they?"
"Uh, sorry, what?" Mal answers.
"I'm in danger," Young says with a sudden urgency in his voice.
"What?" Mal repeats stupidly.
"You can protect me, can't you? Make sure they don't...they can't..."
"Look," Mal says, backing up,"I'm sorry, but I don't think..."
"Don't let them kill me!" Young lurches forward suddenly and grabs handfuls of Mal's shirt. Their faces are inches apart now. "Don't let them...please...you can't...don't understand...I didn't..."
There is a familiar gleam in Young's eyes and his breath reeks of alcohol.
"I think you should go," Mal says.
"You...you aren't going to...?"
Mal takes hold of the door.
"...help...me...?" Young gasps and the door snaps shut and locks between them.
"Who was that?" Natara asks, emerging from the bathroom.
"Your admirer, Edward Young," Mal says with disgust.
"Mal...," Natara says quietly, putting her hands on his chest and smoothing his shirt. "What's wrong with him?"
"He wouldn't take his eyes off you at dinner."
Natara sighs and smiles slightly, her eyes sad. Mal turns to the daunting lower berth that he now needs to suffer again. She watches him quietly and grabs his arm as he begins his attempt to climb into it.
"What?" he asks, turning to her.
"Mal," she whispers, shaking her head, "sleep with me tonight?"
