Disclaimer: Don't own it. You would know if I did, because IT WOULDN'T BE CANCELLED.
Oh, and this chapter is written mainly in past tense because I'm obliging my readers and moving things along so that next chapter the action can start.
Chapter Eleven
The homework, as they used to say (and might still, but he didn't actually care enough to interview anyone and the weird-babbling-fountain-of-facts that was River was not, unfortunately, programmable to spit out certain things at certain times BUT-) what was he thinking? Oh right. The homework, as they used t- nope, not starting that again. Anyways. It went over like a lead balloon.
In short, utter catastrophe. Utter catastrophe.
They had laughed. Well, Zoe only smiled, but for her that was the equivalent. Wash, though, had laughed so hard he turned red, started crying, and fell off of his pilot's chair, scattering dinosaurs as he went. Thank God for autopilot.
The shepherd had politely inquired after his health. And Jayne had just stared at him suspiciously and muttered something about how fancifying folks 'just ain't right'.
The only person who took it in stride was Kaylee. She had basically lit up the room with her thousand-watt smile when he had asked her how she was. Which, of course, was fine with him. Nothing he liked more than making Kaylee smile; Serenity ran smooth when she was happy, and he liked it when things went well for once.
The rest of them, however….he had the feeling that everyone but Jayne was in on the joke to screw with his head. Well, River was out to do that too, but she was doing it to the rest of them as well and wasn't 'with' them as much as 'against' them.
And speaking of River, she had, of course, just bounded up to each of them and went down the list, spitting each phrase out in machine-gun succession. They all thought she was adorable, the traitors. Except for Jayne. He just looked scared. Although when confronted with River, that wasn't saying much.
So yes. Giant conspiracy. Big Brother and all that. Mayhaps it was a doomsday plan as well. Turn the captain into a grumpy, irritable wreck. An educated wreck.
"Patchwork doll," River chimed in helpfully. "Rags to riches, but the gold is an illusion. All in your mind. If you cut me, do you not bleed?" She reflected on that for a few moments, walking—dancing, more like—backwards in front of him. Then she shrugged and spun so that she was facing forwards again, her nose half an inch from Inara's door.
Mal gritted his teeth, staring down the door over River's head. She was going to be insufferable after this.
"The act of placing closed fist upon the entryway and striking it several times in a row is the preferred method most choose to follow when in such situations," River piped in, turning to look up at him.
Mal looked at her, looked at the door. Closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Braced himself for the worst. Then knocked. River snickered.
"Please, may I come in?"
Inara had opened the door, face serene. She'd basically been radiating smugness, but she'd graciously accepted the cortex and listened to River's assurances that she'd made sure he hadn't managed to fall into any webs.
Then she'd told him to go get ready for dinner.
"You can practice your new manners," she said sweetly. He'd flashed her a death glare and she relented slightly. "If it helps, I'm enforcing manners in everyone. I thought it'd be best that you had some practice so that when you have dinner with your hosts you don't die of shock when no one starts laughing and responds in kind."
She paused for a few moments, letting that sink in. Waiting for the obvious question. He obliged.
"What'll you do with Jayne?" Mal asked pragmatically. Somehow, he didn't think the big merc was going to be too happy with this plan. Although, he thought gleefully, he wouldn't be the only one suffering. And it'd certainly put a damper on Wash's fun.
Inara gave him a grim stare. "He'll behave," she promised, voice tight. Mal swallowed, glad he wasn't on the receiving end of all that. She looked ready to go on a rant, and he made an executive decision to make his way out of the line of fire.
"I'm just going to…go get ready," he said, surreptitiously edging back. River copied his movements, although the effect was diminished when she waved goodbye cheerfully. He reminded himself to teach her the first few rules of battle later: don't let the enemy know where you are, and don't smile at them when they're annoyed. It just makes them angrier.
Luckily he'd made the escape with all limbs intact and so here he sat, explaining to River in slightly louder-than-normal tones why exactly he didn't need to knock on the door of his own gorram shuttle.
River was nodding along obediently, although he had some doubt about whether she was really listening, seeing as how she was currently balanced on her hands with her legs straight up in the air. It was, he decided between breaths, quite impressive that she'd managed for that long. He'd have thought her arms would be cramping.
"And that," he said, rounding off his speech with a flurry, "is why I don't need to knock. Because I am The Captain, and I own this ship."
River considered for a few moments and then turned right-side up again.
"Can't catch smoke," she told him critically. Mal opened his mouth, and then closed it. She shot him a disgusted look and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and finishing it off with a dramatic huff. "Protest there's fire, but sparks will catch and take hold and then where will you be?"
"Up a creek without a paddle?" Mal hazarded.
"With a paddle," she confirmed, not missing a beat. "The water's on fire, and there's a hole in the boat. Preacher-man says walk on water, but it's wine and you'll sink."
"Hang on, you just said the water was on fire; now it's wine?" Mal protested with the injured tones of someone who'd just been handed a chocolate chip cookie and then told he couldn't eat it. And then had it taken away and replaced with an ear of spinach. And people wondered why he had trust issues?
"Wine is combustible, and if water turns into wine then is it wine or transformed water or watery-wine or winey-water?"
"I'm going to stop this conversation now," Mal said after a few moments of contemplation, wherein he acquired the beginnings of a headache and lost his original train of thought completely.
"There were no survivors," River volunteered. Mal gave her a suspicious look and she beamed brightly, all traces of former bad humor gone entirely.
"Dinnertime," she crowed, and flew to the ladder. Mal followed, trying to get his brain to stop mulling over the water-wine problem.
"Hang on," he said suddenly. "You didn't answer my question. What smoke?"
River ran, shrieking with laughter, towards the mess. Mal sighed and took off after her. Some things, he decided, were better left unknown.
XXXXXX
Dinner, surprisingly, went well for the first few minutes. Mostly they were eating, or, in Jayne's case, shoveling as much food as possible into his mouth in the shortest time frame he could (Book had cooked). Kaylee kept smiling at him, still riding her high, and Wash was avoiding his gaze. Every time even a hint of laughter started bubbling up, Zoe gave him a well-practiced nudge with her elbow. It seemed one crew member in on the joke had decided to pity him.
Inara was cutting her food into small, manageable bites, keeping one eye on Jayne the entire time. Simon was alternating between making sure River was eating, giving Jayne slightly aghast looks, and paying close attention to his own plate. It seemed he'd learned well from the black market deal River had struck with Jayne, bargaining off his food for her own amusement.
And River, well, she was back to staring at the ceiling and humming, putting the occasional forkful of seasoned protein and scant vegetables into her mouth with an air of absent-mindedness. Her roll sat untouched, and Mal made a mental note to grab it if he could; last time they'd had bread River had stolen his and eaten it because she'd given hers to Simon who'd given his to Kaylee (smiling like an idiot when she'd kissed him on the cheek in thanks) because she'd given hers to Inara after Wash, as a joke, stole it and handed it off to Zoe who hadn't been paying attention and thought it was for Jayne, who'd swallowed it whole.
If his brain was a person, it'd be gasping for breath. His crew was complicated, he'd give it that. Nothing could be simple. Speaking of:
"Hey Kaylee, pass the protein," Wash called, leaning over Book to look at her. Kaylee immediately went to oblige, but was stopped by Inara's hand gently restraining her.
"Say please," she lectured, "and don't lean over people." For a second everyone was silent, Mal biting his tongue to hold in laughter at their expressions, and then just as Wash opened his mouth, possibly to apologize, Jayne piped in.
"Why do we have to say stuff like that? Ain't like we're gonna go mingle with the high and mighty." He smirked at Simon. "Least more than we've done already." Simon frowned faintly. River stopped humming and gave Jayne a death glare that he didn't notice. Mal opened his mouth to intervene. Inara got there first.
"Well, Jayne, I think everyone on this ship can benefit from a lesson in etiquette. And we're helping Mal, who I think has done an admirable job so far." She shot him a quick smile, which he hastened to return, conveniently overlooking the fact that none of them seemed to think him capable of basic manners—just because he had them, doesn't mean he wanted to use them.
"And it's not 'ain't', it's 'isn't'." She paused, thinking, and then added, "And if you don't wish to participate you can leave the table."
Mal decided not to interrupt the usurpation of his captainly powers, seeing as how he didn't think he'd be able to manage the ice-cold steel of Inara's voice right now. And he certainly wouldn't be nearly as polite.
Jayne glared at Inara, and then set his jaw.
"Fine," he said stiffly. "I can speak fancily." Wash looked like he was about to pass out from holding his breath to keep in the laughter. Zoe was staring fixedly at the far wall, Book the table, Simon his plate, and Kaylee her fork. River was still glaring at Jayne, Inara had calmly returned to eating, and Mal was waiting for the storm to burst.
Jayne glanced sideways at Book and leaned in a bit. "What exactly does she mean by 'et-i-qette'?"
Simon lunged for his water. Kaylee started giggling quietly. Zoe was desperately fighting back a smile, and Wash was turning purple. Inara ignored it all regally.
"Etiquette: conventional requirements as to social behavior; a prescribed or accepted code of usage in matters of ceremony," River said, not relenting on her glaring.
"Something you lack," Wash pointed out helpfully. Then he doubled over cackling. Simon drained his glass and started on River's. Zoe had tears in her eyes.
"Hey!" Jayne snapped. "I'm smart! Mebbe I'm not edumacated like Dr. Fancypants here, but I know my letters."
"Maybe, educated, no yelling at the dinner table, and no calling people names," Inara stated calmly. "Wash, stop picking on Jayne. Simon, you need to breathe. River, dear, do you want more protein?"
"He started it!" yelled Wash, pointing at Jayne, who smiled back smugly.
"See? 'Nara's on my side," he gloated.
"No pointing," Inara said, handing her water glass off to Simon, who was manfully trying to blink back tears, and spooning another clump of protein onto River's plate. River was still glaring at Jayne.
"Yeah, Wash," Jayne crowed. "No pointing."
"And no gloating," Inara rapped out. Jayne frowned.
"But that's boring," he complained. "Doc here gloats all the time." He pointed towards Simon, who jerked his head up, laughter stopping immediately. Both he and Kaylee instantly jumped to his defense.
"He does not!"
"I do not!"
"Doctor, not doc, and for the love of god stop arguing."
"Stop telling me what to do!" Jayne hurled at Inara. Mal felt his haunches raise. Might be Inara got a little annoying sometimes, but gorramit there was no need to yell at her for trying to be helpful.
"Hey now, don't be taking it out on her. She's only trying to help," he warned Jayne.
"I do not gloat!" Simon protested indignantly.
"Yeah!" chimed in Kaylee. "Don't be so mean to Simon. He's real nice once you get to know him, which ya'd know if ya talked to him every once and again."
"Maybe we should all-" started Book. Jayne held up his hand.
"If I wanted to be bored, I'da gone to school," he sneered.
"It's a pity you didn't, I would love to see the results your 'edumacation' would wreak upon your glowing personality," Simon said drily. Wash hooted with laughter, ignoring Zoe's warning look.
"Yeah," he started, only to be interrupted by Jayne steamrolling right over him.
"Least I can shoot a gun," he snapped. "What can you do? Stitch something? Any girl can do that. Takes a real man to shoot a guy."
"Yes, I imagine it would be terribly difficult to point and pull a trigger from behind someone," said Simon icily. "Even more difficult to rifle through their pockets. And next time you manage to get yourself shot, feel free to dig the bullet out yourself."
Jayne jumped to his feet.
"If you're implying something…" he threatened. Simon got up too, and Zoe and Mal rose with him, hands on their guns, waiting.
"I'm implying that my skills are infinitely more useful than yours would be should we ever find ourselves injured. What could you do if you were bleeding out in the wilderness and had a fever?" He glared at him. "Maybe you could bang your head against a tree. It certainly isn't harder than your head," he said snidely.
Jayne lunged. Zoe grabbed him and pushed him back with a warning 'no'. Mal shoved Simon roughly back into his seat. Book sat watching gravely; Kaylee looked on the verge of tears, and Wash looked nervous. Inara was looking at Kaylee in worry. River sat, glaring, at Jayne.
"Well now, maybe things got a mite out of hand," Mal said, "but that ain't a reason to go ruining the day. Now how about everyone takes a seat and we finish this meal peacefully? Seems a right shame to waste this here good cooking."
Simon cleared his throat slightly, looking torn between residual anger and embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Jayne grudgingly took his seat, ignoring him; Zoe followed, still keeping an eye on him. Inara glanced at Mal.
"You do know that your speech wasn't correct?" Mal sighed, nodded. "Okay then."
There was a moment of silence as everyone focused resolutely on eating. Then:
"You made fun of Simon." Everyone turned to look at River, who was still glaring daggers at Jayne. "You shouldn't do that. Knight in shining armor. Not allowed, not in the story. Can't break the words." She narrowed her eyes. "Apologize."
"River-" Simon started. She turned and gave him a reassuring smile. Then she looked at Jayne.
"I ain't-" Inara cleared her throat loudly "I am not apologizing."
"Jayne," Mal started warningly.
"It's really-"
"It's not fair!" shrieked River, and hurled her roll at Jayne's head. There was a moment of silence, and then:
"Sorry," muttered Jayne, and ate the roll. Simon hesitated, torn, and then gave him a weak smile and turned back to River, who had gone back to humming at the ceiling.
Mal didn't blame her; everyone needed a good tantrum every once in a while. Even crazy telepathic assassins like herself. No one else commented, and there was a few minutes of silence while everyone finished eating.
Wash looked up suddenly, swallowing the rest of his vegetables quickly. "Why didn't River have to say please?" he asked. Everyone looked at River, who was now focusing with an eerie intensity on her fork.
"Um, well, I guess," stuttered Simon. "Maybe because…"
"Please," said River, mercifully interrupting him.
"Okay," said Wash cheerfully. "Kaylee, would you pass the bread?" Zoe exploded in laughter next to him.
"Oh, right, please," he added hastily. No one could hear him; they were too busy laughing. Muttering, he reached over and grabbed it himself.
XXXXXXX
The next day, he entered the kitchen to find Inara and Simon waiting with a pile of papers between them. River was floating around the edges of the room, spinning every fourth step.
"Mal," Inara greeted him. "We have your identity." She gestured to the pile of paper. "Badger sent it; work history, ident papers, everything you need."
It was quality work, he'd give it that. Mal rifled through the stack, assessing. Badger must have dished out some serious credits for this; whatever this artwork thing was, he must want it bad.
"Hang on," he said, pausing about half-way through. "This says I'm a 'luxury item evaluator'? What does that even mean, exactly?"
"Oh, it means that you evaluate the goods coming into the Persephone shipyard and you decide how much they go for on the market. It's basically a way for you to control the economy in your port city; it's legal, but it's underhanded. You'd make a ton of money off of it if you actually had that job. It's why jobs like those mostly stay in upper-class families." Simon grabbed the cortex and typed something in, then turned it so Mal could see.
"It's a real company," he explained, "So your story will check out. Badger hired some guys to go change some things around so it looks like you're in charge-" Mal saw a picture of his own face smiling up at him from the screen "and you have all the papers in your hand. Just smile and repeat the stuff Inara will tell you to, and you'll be fine." He sat back and smiled at Mal.
"This plan has so many holes in it, a man could break their leg trying to walk through it," Mal observed. Inara and Simon frowned at him.
"I seem to recall you saying something about how easy this was going to be just a few days ago," Simon said. "If River isn't going to be safe, then-" Mal cut him off with a wave of his hand.
"She'll be fine," he interjected. Honestly, Simon and his pessimism. It was enough to bring even Kaylee down. "I'm just not sure about this whole…luxury item evaluator thing. Doesn't seem too watertight."
"And that," Inara said triumphantly, "is why these lessons are so important. You know what you're talking about, act like you belong, and they won't know anything's amiss. It's the art of the con."
"I know how to con people," Mal snapped.
"Then prove it," Inara retorted. "By the end of the day, you're going to be able to tell me how much a load of silk from Sihnon costs coming in, and how much it can be sold for on the open market. Including profits that you can make."
"Well, silk shipments on a normal freighter class ship leaving room for other provisions, seeing as how most aren't selling just one item, calculate for crew space so about fifteen hundred yards per at about fifty credits or so…around seventy five thousand credits for the lot. I am assuming this is quality Sihnon silk, yes? About two shipments a year, best of the best hand-spun by beautiful women?" He smiled at Inara. "Sell it on the open market for about double that, and after you take out costs for paying and docking and legal fees, well. Still a tidy profit. Upwards of about twenty, thirty thousand credits when you're done; mostly, of course, because Sihnon silk isn't exactly legal, now is it? Gray area, yes?
"But of course, selling it on the open market, well. Not great. Private owners will pay a bundle more for it, especially if you dye it. Although, of course, food stuff still sells for more. Now that, heh. Don't get me started on how much profit can be made there."
He glanced around the table. Simon and Inara looked pretty shell-shocked. River was, well, River. She'd probably be more interested if this was a lesson on physics.
"How did you…" Simon's voice failed him. Mal rolled his eyes. A genius this boy may be, but sometimes...he just wanted to smack him upside the head.
"I am a smuggler, in case you haven't noticed," Mal said bitingly. "It's kind of my job to know how much stuff ships and sells for. Keeps me from being cheated and you lot from starving to death." Simon looked appropriately abashed.
"Well then," Inara said, smiling happily. "I don't see what the problem is with you impersonating someone with this job."
Mal opened his mouth, and then decided against saying anything. Inara looked happy now, sure; he was willing to bet that if he said something contrary though she'd rip his head off. And he was only half-sure that it wouldn't be all metaphorical.
"If you know all your job details then, we can move onto something far more important," Inara continued. Mal eyed her warily.
"What, pray tell, is that?"
"The appropriate utensils," she said smugly. Mal watched glumly as she unwrapped a small bundle, revealing a bunch of shiny objects that resembled, to his worldview, torture instruments. "I don't suppose you know which is the soup spoon?" she asked cheerfully.
Across the table Simon stifled a chuckle, and Mal shot him a baleful glance before shaking his head and treating Inara with what he hoped was a charmingly-boyish grin.
"Well, I'm the best captain to ever fly a ship, know all about black market deals, have a pretty floral bonnet, and am ruggedly handsome to boot. What more could you ask for in a man?"
"Someone who knows which spoon is the soup spoon," Inara said, looking distinctly uncharmed.
Mal hesitated, and then pointed at a larger spoon. "That one?" he hazarded. Simon snickered. Mal shot him a nasty glare, and he turned white and stopped.
"No." Inara motioned at the implements. "Try again."
River darted out a single pale hand and scooped up a spoon smaller than the one Mal had chosen. Inara smiled at her.
"That's correct River, good job." River looked at Inara, looked at the spoon, and then handed the spoon off to Simon.
"And when we finish this," Inara added cheerfully, taking the spoon from Simon and putting it back down, "We'll take a crash course on politicians. Your political views and those of your hosts are in the pile Mal."
Mal made a face.
"Now, which one is the butter knife?"
XXXXXXX
At the end of the lesson Mal's head was spinning with the names of politicians and the proper placement of silverware, but at least he could locate the correct utensil to Inara's satisfaction and carry on his end of the conversation with Simon.
He knew one thing for sure though: he didn't like politics. Mal preferred the world in black and white; this was more about distinguishing between shades of gray.
By the time it was time for dinner he just grabbed a bowl of whatever they were serving and fell into bed, trying to remember who did what and passed this act and was the head of this board because for the love of god why did so many politicians names start with an 'o'?
About halfway through that lovely exercise River came dropping in and handed him a detailed flow chart of everyone they had discussed, along with some interesting side-notes.
"Meyers Ostin did what?" he yelped, glancing at the neat script next to the name of the current Head of Agriculture on Ariel. River nodded sagely, settling neatly on to the end of his bed.
"This says he okayed testing of a new vaccine for Bozeman's Flu on people," he said, aghast. By the end of the lesson he'd actually begun to like Otis...or at least, better than the others.
"Smoke screen," River said calmly. "Magic mirrors. Misdirection. Look here not there and I'll bet you five dollars you can't guess where the queen is."
"Yes, but," Mal spluttered. "And Inara wants me to go pretend I like this guy because he 'upholds key beliefs of many of the families you're going to be mingling with'? Is she insane?!"
"Let their lips speak lies their heads agree with not," River stated absently. Mal considered the wisdom of that for a few moments, and then sighed.
"Fine, I'll pretend," he groused. Then he paused, frowning at a particular note. "Do I even want to know how you found out the Head of Affairs of Office has five mistresses and nineteen children?"
"Lying in wait," she murmured softly, hands drifting up to touch her temples. "Like traps; don't see them 'til you're caught and can't get out. Hiding hiding hiding sprung." Her slightly-glassy eyes turned towards the wall, and then snapped back to him, clearing as she smiled suddenly.
She jumped up, tapping him lightly on the head. "I'm going to see the doctor, the wonderful doctor of Oz," she sang, and left the shuttle in a whirl of blue fabric and black hair.
Mal watched her go, and then went back to studying the chart. Silverware he could handle just fine, but so help him god he was going to prove to Inara that he could learn all about these politicians if it killed him.
XXXXXXX
The day after that, Mal became aware of a sinister plot afoot on his boat.
"Are you telling my crew to avoid me?" he demanded, coming into the kitchen with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.
"Why would you say that?" Inara asked, looking genuinely curious. He didn't believe it for a second.
"Because I just walked into Zoe, Kaylee, and Wash all camping out in the hallway, and the second they saw me they all turned tail and ran the other way! How am I supposed to carry out my captain-y duties when my whole gor- sorry – crew is avoiding me?"
"Maybe they were discussing your shining personality," Simon piped up, "And they didn't want you to hear them."
"We certainly don't need your head getting even bigger," Inara tacked on. Mal narrowed his eyes at them both.
"You need time to study Mal," Inara said finally. "And we don't want you busy doing captain-y things. Zoe's got it all well in hand."
Mal thought, came up with nothing, and sat down in a huff. "Fine." Truth be told, he was pretty pleased Zoe had been managing so well. It was only three days, sure, and a relatively smooth ride, but he'd left her completely alone. He'd thought that Jayne would have staged a coup at this rate, and been on the floor somewhere singing about fairies and pretty lights. Apparently he was overestimating Jayne, or underestimating Zoe's intimidating personality and killer right hook.
The lesson was a quick recap on the day before, twenty questions on his identity, and art appreciation time, which was Simon and Inara abandoning him to a list of things to look up on the cortex for two hours, generally concerning artwork, the theater, and the ballet.
Apparently, he and the Windmeres did not share the same perception of art or entertainment: give him a sunset and a beer and maybe a bar fight or two to lighten up the evening, and he was golden. Not so where he was going.
River poked at the cortex for three minutes, drifted over and stared at his work for five more, and then settled back down in her seat, produced a pad of paper and a pen, and started scribbling like mad.
XXXXXXX
"So, did you hear about Heiger's newest installation? It's on display at The Gallery on Osiris." Simon smiled at Mal and took a sip of his tea.
Heiger…Heiger…yeah, sounded about right. He remembered reading about that somewhere so…yup. He'd go with that.
"Y-" He broke off with a strangled gasp. His leg was suddenly in extreme pain. Across the table River glanced up from her figures long enough to give him a quick smile before returning to her work.
The little brat had kicked him! And, he realized, the kicking had been a warning. All of a sudden, he remembered.
Heiger was an artist, yes, but:
"Yes, but I think you mean The Gallery on Sihnon." He shot Simon a cocky grin. Inara gave him a bright smile.
"Mal, good job! I-"
"She kicked you," Simon interrupted. He was smiling too. "Under the table," he continued. "River kicked you when you were about to say the wrong thing."
"How'd you know?"
"She used to do the same thing to me all the time," he replied. He gave River a soft smile; she glanced up and returned it serenely, then looked at Mal and crossed her eyes.
"Osiris," she scoffed. She went back to tuning the lot of them out. Mal frowned, feeling vaguely offended and all kinds of annoyed.
"Mal," Inara chided.
"What?" he snapped. "You've been grilling me for near on three hours now!"
"And you've been doing really well," Inara said soothingly. "Most people learn this stuff over the course of years, not days. But we need to make sure you have a firm handle on this, and you cannot rely on River to help you."
"And why aren't you asking her any questions?" Mal demanded. "Best I can see it she's gonna- no, hang on- going to be going on this mission too, and at least I have all my marbles. Well, most of them. She ain- no, isn't going to be ready if you keep treating her like a gor- like a china doll." He gestured to the table at large and leaned back.
"Not a doll Simon," River chimed in, still scribbling. "There are shards, and sometimes they're dust and sometimes they don't go together, but they're shards of the girl, not a doll."
Simon and Inara exchanged glances for a few seconds, and then Simon shook his head.
"Nope, wouldn't do any good to quiz her."
"Well why not?" Mal asked indignantly.
"My sister has an eidetic memory captain. She's already read through everything, correct?" Mal and Inara nodded their affirmatives. "Then she knows it all." River gave them all a cheerful smile.
"But you're both correct," Inara added, "And I'm very sorry." River reached out absently and patted Inara on the hand. Inara smiled at her, and then turned to look at Mal.
He thought her smile was meant to look reassuring. It didn't.
"We'll take a break then. I think you've got most of this down. We'll keep going over it the next two days, but for now…class dismissed." She smiled and got up, beginning to pile everything into neat stack.
Mal leapt to his feet, wincing slightly as his shin protested. He shot River a look; she had the grace to look faintly apologetic.
"So what are we doing tomorrow?" he asked, too brightly.
"Um, dancing lessons?" Inara phrased it as a question, directed towards Simon, who nodded quickly. "Yes, dancing lessons," she said to Mal. She finished stacking and swept the supplies into her arms.
"Because there will be dancing, and I need to teach you so you don't break the toes of everyone there." She smiled; evilly, it seemed to Mal. "You'll do wonderfully."
She swept out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of perfume and a slightly shell-shocked Mal in her wake.
"Dancing?" repeated Mal, glancing at Simon.
He nodded, then gave him a hesitant smile. "Yes. But don't worry," he hastened to add. "It'll be easy. The dances aren't that hard; you only need to know the simpler ones." He shot him another hesitant half-smile. "You might even have fun."
"Yes. Fun," Mal said numbly. As much fun as walking into Niska's abode with a giant bow around his neck.
Simon moved to stand next to River, who added another line to her paper and then neatly put her pen down and looked up at Simon, smiling brightly.
"Will you dance with me?" she asked. Simon smiled back, looking genuinely happy.
"Yes, yes of course I will mei mei," he said. Then he glanced at Mal and smirked. "Mal will too," he added. Mal glared at him.
River giggled and jumped up, handing her paper off to Simon before spinning her way out of the kitchen, humming a waltz.
Simon stared down at the paper looking slightly befuddled. Mal moved to join him and found himself looking down at rows of unintelligible symbols. There were only a few numbers mixed in; this went way beyond anything he'd ever been taught.
"What is it?" he asked after a few moments. He expected the doc to say something science-y about time or space or relative dimensions thereof. What he did not expect was Simon shrugging.
"No idea," he said cheerfully. He traced a finger across the first few lines. "I understand parts of this, but...it's more advanced than anything I was taught. But this," he gestured at the rest of the paper, "is complete gibberish to me. I'm not even sure she's operating in our systems of mathematics anymore. Looks like she made this up; I can't even begin to follow it. Maybe something relating to size? Or maybe…" he trailed off, staring at the lines, and then gave Mal a smile.
"Oh well," he said cheerfully. "Have fun." He left the kitchen holding the paper, leaving Mal to stare blankly at the wall.
"Fun," he said again. "Yep. So much fun."
XXXXXXX
The dancing lessons went as well as could be expected. Which translated to they were a disaster but at least Mal didn't critically damage anyone's feet.
"Again," Inara called from the far side of the cargo bay. They were there for the space, and strict instructions had been given to the crew about bothering them, something for which Mal was thankful. He was pretty sure that if Wash or Jayne had stopped by to mock he'd have spaced them long ago.
"Again," Mal mimicked under his breath, attempting to follow the series of steps he'd been taught in time to the music. Simon, who was his partner, was absolutely no help whatsoever.
About as graceful as a dead log, he was paired with Mal only because he knew the steps and could follow them, no matter how ungainly the end result looked. Inara, who had started off the lesson, had long since retreated to the side, citing the excuse that a companion needed to be able to walk. River, the brat, was dancing circles around the pair of them, occasionally stopping to giggle at them. She, having bare feet, was not dancing with Mal because no one had the energy to try and force her into shoes of any kind. River, when confronted with shoes, could be an unstoppable force of nature.
"I know one dance," Mal complained, managing to step on Simon's feet again. Simon winced, and then completed an awkward turn with Mal. Across the room, Inara tried to avoid looking.
"One dance," he continued. "And could we learn it? Oh no."
"Wouldn't that defeat the point of learning?" Simon asked practically, guiding Mal through another set of moves and stumbling over his ill-placed right foot.
"No," Mal said stubbornly. "And shut up. I'm paying you to dance, not take my hopes and dreams and tear them into shreds."
"You're not paying me anything," Simon pointed out mildly. The music changed and Simon changed gears, beginning to turn them counter-clockwise. Mal, having forgotten the steps, decided to do what he did best: improvise.
The result was a tangle of limbs on the floor, and a bruise on Mal's arm from Simon's elbow.
"I can see why," Mal said witheringly. Simon made a face and clambered to his feet.
"Mal, focus," Inara called. "It's one two three turn, one two three turn. It's not a difficult dance."
"Hey now," Mal defended. "If you want to come over and try and show me, then you can talk." Simon shot Inara a pleading look that she completely ignored.
"Again," she demanded, and started the music over again. Mal groaned. Simon looked close to tears. River spun her way over and took Mal's hands.
"Dance," she said, and twirled under his arms. Mal hesitated, and then went with her. Surprisingly, he didn't manage to step on her feet, although that was mostly due to the fact that she was moving them too fast for him to do so.
"Step here, right foot there, and spin," she murmured, and they spun.
"You're doing it," Inara called from the side. Simon shot him a thumbs-up.
"Just don't maim my sister," he called. Mal made a face and River giggled quietly.
"No, this way," she said, and dragged him around in circles.
"You're a better dancer than your brother," Mal told her. River shot him a sunny smile and held her arms out.
"Twirl," she commanded, and he obliged.
"Arm here, foot there, one two three, one two three," she instructed. Mal followed her directions, and managed to finish the dance without looking like a complete idiot.
"See, she makes sense!" he said, pointing at River, who curtsied.
"Fine," said Inara, "then keep dancing." She put on another song, and then another. Somehow Mal made his way through them, and by the end of the fifth song he danced with River, he'd actually begun to remember the steps and wasn't just relying on her whispered instructions.
"That's a wonderful start," Inara said. "Take a couple of minutes, and then you can try again. With River," she added at Simon's horrified look.
Mal dropped to the ground with a sigh, leaning his back up against the metal wall. Inara sank down next to him, somehow managing to look like she belonged even in blue and white silk.
"You're doing a really good job," she told him seriously. "When we land tomorrow, you'll be more than ready to start the job."
"Even if I can't dance."
"Even if you can't dance."
They sat, and watched River grab Simon's hands and lead him in a wild dance across the room that contained far more spins and fancy footwork than Mal ever wanted to attempt. Somehow Simon managed to look almost graceful as River flitted around like a ribbon of water, seeming to almost be flying. Laughingly, they completed another circuit of the room before River abandoned her partner and grabbed Mal, yanking him flying across the room as he desperately tried to follow her lead.
XXXXXXX
"Is there anything I can help you with?" the proprietor asked, approaching Mal and Simon. Mal tugged uncomfortably at his shirt, looking around the store.
It was filled with coats and clean white shirts and immaculately-pressed slacks. It was probably Simon's dream. It was definitely his hell.
"I need fancy clothes," he offered. The proprietor stared at him, then looked to Simon for help. Simon, for his part, gave Mal a death glare, then turned and took the owner by the arm.
"Just…don't move, don't touch anything, and don't talk to anyone," Simon said with a sigh. Then the pair of them moved away, and Mal heard Simon say something about a 'backwards cousin in need of a wardrobe transformation'.
He stuck his tongue out at his back. Childish, he knew, but this. This was hell. Clothes shopping with Simon? Just great. He reached out and touched a shirt. It was ridiculously soft.
"This is soft!" he called to Simon, but barely had the words left his mouth before a
"I said don't touch anything!"
floated across the store.
He rolled his weight back and crossed his arms. This was going to be a loooong day.
XXXXXXXX
"And remember, two of these a day and be nice to everyone and don't swear and use your manners and for the love of god watch out for my sister or I promise I will-"
"SHUT. UP." Mal shot Simon a look that said, quite clearly, to follow his instructions. Simon fell silent, still staring at him nervously, bobbing up and down with the weight of things still left unsaid.
Mal turned to the rest of the crew, ignoring Wash's snickering and Jayne's unabashed staring. He was wearing a new suit, easily the nicest thing he'd ever owned, and my god was it uncomfortable.
"You look dashing," Kaylee said, and grabbed him in a tight hug. "You go get'em captain tight-pants." Zoe gave him a nod; Book shook his hand. Inara gave him a warm smile.
"You'll be wonderful," she said. Simon handed him a small black bag.
"Two pills a day, and-"
"I know Simon," Mal snapped testily. "And if I forget I'm pretty sure River knows that she needs to take her medicine."
River, who was looking relatively normal in a blue silk dress and a gold ribbon threaded through her (somewhat) restrained black hair which hung in a curtain down her back, stuck out her tongue. Then she darted forward and threw her arms around Simon.
"Don't worry," she instructed, "Be happy." Grinning, she spun away and leapt into the small silver shuttle that had been provided them, looking far more like a ninja than most Core girls were probably meant to.
Mal said a final goodbye, warned Jayne not to try and overthrow Zoe, warned Zoe not to break his ship, warned Wash not to break Jayne, warned Kaylee not to break his engine room, warned Simon not to have a panic attack, warned Book not to let things get out of hand, warned Inara not to go and kill the lot of them, and climbed into the shuttle next to River, who was vibrating in place as she waved at Simon.
"Let's go," he said, and the driver, who was sitting up front and trying, with great difficulty, not to stare at the lot of them, turned the wheel and began the journey away.
…
"Your shirt's soft," River said, and stroked it with her hand.
"That's what I said!" crowed Mal triumphantly.
A/N: Yes, this is seven thousand words long. Merry Christmas! You'd better review, or Santa Claus will give you all coal. That's right, I have a direct pipeline to Santa…still working on the Easter Bunny though.
And sorry this wasn't as clever/witty/humorous/whatever (yes, I am shameless) as I normally write; I condensed all the set-up in one chapter so the action could start.
And yes, characters might seem a bit OOC and too stereotyped. There's a reason for that: This is humor and basically a crack!fic, so eh. I take liberties. But the silk? Not really. Considering the economies of the different worlds (and remember, credits aren't actually that much; it's platinum that's the big stuff) and how much silk—really, really good silk—costs, it all works out. And since they never actually said anything about the cost of silk on Firefly, I just made it up. That too.
For ebfiddler, there was a dancing lesson! (although length and time made the deportment go away…sorry about that).
For TheAmazingDave, well he knew about all that high-priced marketing stuff! And he most definitely surprised Inara and Simon with that!
And next time there may be a funny author's note…just not this time. So tired now.
REVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEW!
(Also, on my computer, this was 29 pages. You need to review for that reason alone. )
(And there was, for all the Doctor Who fans, a Doctor Who reference.)