2003
It's the moment you tell me that you know I'm out of ammo that it hits me.
They're going to recruit you, too, Chuck. The CIA is going to recruit you, too.
This isn't the first time we've played this game. Cops and robbers for twenty-something slackers. And I beat you every time, sure. But you get closer and closer every time. If it weren't for some of the tricks I've been learning from the CIA, I'm sure that you'd have gotten me a few times. And that should have tipped me off right there, you know? I had to use CIA training to beat you at cops and robbers. But, I mean, it was just a game and, even though it was great practice for some of the things I was going through at Langley-- you thought I was visiting my family more often than I ever had before-- I never really put two and two together until that moment. Until "I know you're out of ammo, I've been counting."
Sure, you were facing the wrong way, and I know you'll beat yourself up over that in a few minutes when we do the blow-by-blow recap, but I'm a CIA trainee, Chuck. You're not supposed to have a chance. You're not supposed to get me to waste my ammo and go to my stash location to get more before being able to beat you. You're supposed to take two or three shots at most. I've played this game with the other guys in the fraternity and they can't last more than five or ten minutes.
So, yeah, as soon as you let me know you had been counting my ammo, that you knew I was out, that was the very moment when I knew you were going to be recruited by the CIA. That they were going to take a look at your raw potential, your quick-fire brain synapses, and they were going to see someone who had the build to be a physical weapon, the intelligence to be an analyst or a tracker, and the sense of honor to be honed into a protector.
But it's this second, this one where you take too long and let me grab my extra dart, this second where I can see that you won't-- can't-- pull the trigger, that I know that I don't want them to have you.
The CIA is great, sure. And I know that I'll be doing good work for them. I know I'll be tracking down terrorists and arms dealers and international drug traffickers. And I know that I'll probably be killing them. That's okay by me. Really. It is. It's not that I don't care for human life, or that I don't view it as precious thing. It's just...
God, Firefly is a great show. I know that nobody but the two of us actually, you know, watched it, but it fits what I mean so perfectly here. And, I know that you're not too fond of being compared to a girl, so I'll do it to myself first. You remember that scene in the episode where Mal and Wash get taken by Niska? Where Kaylee gets cornered and runs back and then River comes out and takes her gun and shoots the three of Niska's guards without looking? Great, great episode. Alan Tudyk murdered it as post-torture Wash. Anyway.
I'm River. I've got the ability to stop these people and it's not that I don't think human life is sacred or important or that I've got any sort of right to take it away. But I have the ability to do good, even if you're going to look at me different forever if you were to see me do it. And you're Kaylee. You've got nothing but the best of intentions, Chuck. You'd take up arms to protect your crew. But you'd never be able to fire. I see it in your eyes, as I distract you by messing with some random book. It's not just hesitation, it's a complete and utter reluctance to pull the trigger. To shoot me.
And, Chuck, that's with a dart.
So as much as I know that I know that you'll be recruited. As much as I know that you have all the tools, all the ability and raw talent in the world, to be a spy. As much as I know that if they got their claws in you that you and I would be back to back, James Bond to James Bond, I know just as much that the person who would have my back in that instant wouldn't be Chuck Bartowski. You wouldn't be Kaylee anymore. You wouldn't be Simon or Shepherd Book or even Wash. You'd be Mal. Betrayed by a force you thought had your back, disillusioned and disenchanted by a world you thought was going to be all the mighty hand of justice.
It's not. And that doesn't bother me so much. Just a couple of years ago a group of people hijacked four planes and murdered thousands of people with them, knocking down part of America's most iconic landscape. I remember going down to New York from Connecticut for various trips and crossing over the Brooklyn Bridge and seeing those towers and now I haven't been back to New York in awhile, but I know that their absence will be conspicuous. So, you know, I got into the CIA through Professor, I probably had a more grandiose and naive vision of what it would be, but I'm not disenchanted or disillusioned. I have a vision of two high points in the sky that I'm doing this for.
And, you know, I'm sure that you'd justify it and rationalize it when they ask you. You'd picture Ellie and you'd say okay, that you'll do it. You'll push aside remembering that your mom left and your dad left and convince yourself that leaving Ellie was okay because you'd be protecting her, you'd be saving her. Like I picture two skyward points, you'd picture your sister and you'd grit your teeth and furrow your brow and nod seriously and just do it.
But you've never looked natural with a furrowed brow. You've never sounded natural with grit teeth. You've always been the perfect guy-- my best friend-- when we were laughing over our microphones at a pair of noobs in Halo that we were slaughtering, when we were watching taped reruns of Doctor Who, when we were quoting every line from The Wrath of Kahn.
You don't pull the trigger long enough for me to fit my dart into my gun without you knowing.
I just hope that's always the case, you know?
