Principles
Indeed, how many men had he killed in his time in this abysmal place? Twenty? A hundred? More?
Did it really matter? Who could possibly care?
'They all do,' he realized with some difficulty. He'd seen the looks River and Simon had given him when he'd shot that man.
Simon had given him one of relief. It was Mal's belief he would slaughter the whole world to keep his little sister safe.
River had looked afraid, though he knew not why. She'd killed too, not before, but after. What's more she'd enjoyed it.
He'd killed to defend, Jayne had sent many into the void because that was the only way he knew.
Once upon a time, Mal had known another way too. But that was then, and this was now. Rule number one: Don't die.
This was one of the few things he was sure was true. To live, ah, but for what? To entertain that tiny hope that the Alliance would burst into flame? It was perfect nonsense, this life of his.
Rule number two: Protect the ones you care for. Your life's really not worth living without them.
He'd followed this rule too, you see. He'd sacrificed everything, had at a few points, to look after his crew. They were old friends, new friends, and almost-enemies. Alas, he protected him with his gun and his fists. It had always been this way. What dictated if you were part of the crew? If you lived on the boat, of course.
What made it so Mal allowed you to be there? Just a feeling, one of hate, one of helplessness.
Rule number three: Never let them see you're hurt.
Kaylee had said once that she'd never seen him get so much as teary-eyed. Neither when being tortured, nor when he thought they were all going to die. That had meant he'd done his job well.
People had enough to worry about. Why bother them wit his needs? He, unlike them, was battle-hardened and pure logic untainted by emotions. He was strong enough to take whatever life could throw at him. Many were not. He could take his burdens, and probably several others.
Rule Number Four: Never give up.
This was insanely simple; it was Rule Four that allowed him to follow Rule Three.
Keep fighting. It's what he was made for.
When things look hopeless...Leave the questions alone. Just keep going a' steady and you'd either be rewarded, or fall so deep you could never get up again.
Life is a gamble. Learn to live with it.
He'd learned his lessons all too well. Much too well.
If you could learn such things you'd never need strength, nor humans, nor love. Just hold on a little tighter and maybe things would be okay.
Rule Number Five: Never ask 'What if?'
What if we'd won? What if things had gone different? What if I had died with Niska? What if everything had changed?
Well, dumbass, they haven't. If it didn't kill ya, ya got nothin' to worry 'bout. If it did, well, the chuckle of an old man who'd smoked far too much, then ya really got nothin' to worry 'bout. Got it son?
Well, do ya?