Carving Out a Future

By: Dreamfall

Summary: Her crew doesn't know that Serenity's new passenger, a carpenter with an 'unusual upbringing', is a relic from the past. And Xander's not looking for trouble. Then again, neither are they. Not usually, leastwise. It just tends to come calling anyway. Gen. Canon couples mentioned, but definitely not the focus of the story.

Written for: NaNoWriMo and TTH100: Xander/Firefly

TTH100 prompt: 023-Pride

Rating: FR13/PG13/T

Disclaimer: I own neither Firefly nor BtVS.

Spoilers: Takes place post Season 7 for Buffy, and post-Objects in Space (and post the comic books, for that matter), but pre-Serenity for Firefly.

Author's Note: This is the story I started in November for NaNoWriMo. I'm thirty or so chapters into it, but since there's going to be at least one hundred chapters (since it's for tth100, too), they're mostly pretty short. If you're coming from this from my HP fanfics-- it's very different. Way less dark. It's also an incredibly fun story to write, and I do intend to continue with it to its conclusion. And no, it's not taking any real time away from Cat, now that I'm not working obsessively on it, like I was in November. I'll be posting every couple/few days at least till I'm caught up with my livejournal (username dreamfall(underscore)nnwm). Hope you enjoy!

Review Response: Responses to any reviews will be posted in the same livejournal as my other review responses-- username dreamfall(underscore)ff.

Chapter Eighteen
A Gift

"That's a fine piece of work," Mal said slowly, examining the long table assembled in Xander's shuttle. It dominated the room, a huge wooden table, long, but also simply massive, with a three inch thick top and two enormous supports under it. Despite its size, it was rather beautiful, though he didn't have much of an idea why, beyond how the wood seemed to glow with inner light, warm and silky-smooth, with joinings so clean he could hardly see the seams. He hadn't spent much time studying furniture and couldn't begin to say what type of table it was, but he didn't have to understand it to admire it and recognize the craftsmanship that went into the making of it. "Don't know that I've ever seen a better. How're you plannin' on getting' it out of here?"

Xander laughed, his eyes caressing the smooth wood. "I haven't glued it yet. I'll take it apart, move it to its destination in pieces, and reassemble on site."

"You got a buyer, yet?"

"Actually, I was hoping to keep it on the ship," he said finally turning from the table to look directly at Mal, brows rising slightly in question. "I sized it to replace the one in the dining room -- it's falling apart."

Mal shook his head. "Like I said, it's a fine piece of work, but I can't see spendin' what you'll doubtless be askin' on a table. There's those that don't mind droppin' the platinum for frivolities, but we on Serenity can't much afford it."

The young man laughed again, shaking his head and dropping one hand to the wood, fingers absently brushing along one edge as he spoke. "No, I'm sorry. I meant as a gift."

"Tryin' to buy our affections?" Mal asked ironically.

Xander grinned. "Nah, if I was doing that, I'd give you the floating disk." He hesitated then admitted, "I like having things I built around. Makes a place feel like home. I can't fit anything big in here, and I wanted to start work with something good-sized. So I looked around, saw your table was too bad off to be worth fixing, though it was a gorgeous piece in its own time, and figured I'd try replacing it. Besides, it'd give you something to remember me by if I ever leave. If you don't like it, that's fine," he added quickly, fingers spreading protectively on the wood as though reassuring it that that possibility was nonsensical. "I can keep it until I find a buyer. It doesn't take up much space when it's disassembled."

"I'm not sayin' I don't like it," he said slowly, trying to read the other man, who looked back evenly, giving nothing away. "Fall over if we get a bit of turbulence. Looks like it could do some damage if it went flyin'."

Xander nodded. "It could. Fortunately, I show occasional signs of common sense, despite what some of my friends would tell you, and took that into account. I checked how the old table's bolted down, and made sure I could fasten this one the same way."

"Wood's wood. What's to say this one won't go th'same was as the old?"

A chuckle answered him, and Xander patted the table confidently, gaze turning back to it as he said, "Wood's wood, sure. But inside of that there's plenty of difference. I'd back this against even a new one like the metal ones I've seen on some ships any day. And your old one was a fine piece of work, I'm sure it lasted you quite a few years. This one's stronger though. Jayne's Vera might take a chunk out of it, but anything short of that, I don't think you'll see more than a few scratches, maybe a chink or two out of the edge, in time, but it'll last you a good long while," he said, thumb caressing the smooth grain of the wood.

Finally, Mal nodded. "Guess it don't much matter if it falls apart a day after you put it in anyway," he said. "Just means I'll get a new normal one -- been meanin' to anyway."

"Sure," Xander agreed, not the slightest hint of taking offense in face or voice. "It's a no-lose situation. So I can put it in on Harvest? I think it'll be easiest to land the shuttle, unload the pieces, and go back in through the cargo bay. Trying to negotiate stairs with the table top would be ... awkward."

"Fine, do whatever ya want with it. Need any help?"

"If you could just move the shuttle, I'd appreciate it. I don't know how to fly it. Other than that, I can manage," he said cheerfully.

"Good then," Mal said, turning to leave. "We'll be landing this evening," he added, before leaving the shuttle. He headed up to the bridge, where Wash was at his station and Zoë lounging on a nearby chair. She straightened her posture as Mal entered, and he caught Wash sending her a dirty look at the move.

"What did he want?" Zoë asked.

Mal shrugged. "Just wanted my okay for him to replace the table."

"And you told him?"

"To help himself. Why not?"

She shrugged. "Men don't do somethin' for nothin'."

"Why shouldn't he?" Wash asked. "It's not like he needs to sell it for cash -- he seems to have plenty without. Why shouldn't he make something and wanna keep it around or give it as a gift?"

Zoë shook her head. "Just don't seem right."

"So you're in favor of ending our relationship with him when his month wears off?" Mal asked curiously.

"Didn't say that," she said. "He's good money like you said. And he ain't done nothin' to make us think he's gonna turn in the fugitives. Guay, River can't get enough of him, and she seems to read folk pretty well. I just got no reason to trust him. I don't like havin' people I don't trust around. It ain't restful."

Mal grinned. "It ain't that. But I tell ya, I think the kid's okay. I'm not sayin' I'd take him on a job or nothin' like that. Not even sayin' I'd want him at my back in anything worse'n a barfight. But, as a passenger, he don't seem liable to cause any trouble, and it's been a while since we had that. I find I'm enjoyin' it."

Wash nodded. "Besides, the man can tell a story," he added. "Told me one about a scientist who brought back dinosaurs for this rich guy; populated a moon with 'em and brought folks to look. But they screwed up, and the dinosaurs went on a rampage -- great story. I'm tellin' ya, he's worth having around."

"Cuz the lord knows we can't live without stories," Mal said dryly.

"Amen to that," Wash agreed, cheerfully ignoring his sarcasm.

Zoë didn't voice an opinion in the matter as she stared out into the stars, a faintly troubled expression on her face.