Long Road Home – Chapter Eleven
Do I need to say it? Well, just in case, I own none of these characters, etc etc
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The as yet unnamed new Firefly of Reynolds' Shipping was sailing along calmly on the voyage to her new home. Contrary to their normal luck, all systems had performed flawlessly, and the ship had made good time.
Jayne, increasingly tense as trouble failed to appear, was actually starting to relax, though Kaylee wasn't sure if they was due to him really beginning to believe that things were okay for a change, or to River's gentle touch.
It never failed to amaze Kaylee how River could seem to squelch Jayne's temper when it threatened to flare. A touch, a word, even a glance, and Jayne's anger would simply vanish. She recalled the terrible sight on the sidewalk, back on Persephone, when she'd been sure that Gabriel Tam had not been long for this 'verse.
River called out to him, and Jayne's anger vanished. Just like that. Things like that, and her conversation with River at the shipyard, had more than convinced Kaylee that the two of them had something very special between them.
And now they were engaged! Kaylee felt her smile swell up as she checked on her new girl's systems. She'd never thought that Jayne would act so quickly, but River had been wearing him down. Maybe it took something bad, like on Persephone, to make Jayne see that he might not have all the time in the worlds.
"Everything smooth, Kaylee?" She turned at Jayne's voice to see him standing in the door to the engine room. He looked relaxed, she thought. A term she still had trouble applying to him.
"Shiny, Jayne!" Kaylee smiled. "Just shiny! She's doin' good."
"Glad to hear it," he nodded. "River says we're about three days out, now. Made good time. Still too far to send a wave, but you may can do a voice only to Simon."
"Oh!" Kaylee shrieked, and ran past him for the bridge. Jayne smiled at her eagerness. He didn't blame her. If he had to be separated from River that long. . .
"You won't," her voice floated to him. He had made it back to the galley, where River sat curled up the sofa, the only furniture present other than the table and chairs.
"I hope not," he admitted frankly, and moved to settle in beside her. She instantly curled herself around him, forming herself to his side, and he placed an arm around her. She snuggled against him, as if burrowing for warmth.
"We will be together for many years, Jayne," she assured him. "Only a higher power can separate us, and that is something over which we have no control. So rest your mind, my love, and cease to fret." She raised her head long enough to kiss him firmly, then resettled herself next to him.
Jayne couldn't help but sigh in contentment.
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Kaylee sat at the co-pilot's chair, engaging the cortex. Jayne was right, they were still too far away for video, but maybe they were close enough to. . .
"Yes?" Simon's voice came through the speakers, his voice tense.
"Simon!" Kaylee called in joy. "Simon, can you hear me?"
"Kaylee?" the relief in his voice was evident. "Kaylee, my God! It's so good to hear your voice!" Kaylee felt dizzy from the emotions in Simon's voice. He had missed her. The ring on her finger had reassured her, of course, but there was nothing like real living proof.
"Oh, Simon! It's good to hear you too, ai ren. I have missed you so much!"
"I've missed you too, Kaylee," Simon's voice was wistful, and she wondered of his eyes were as watery as her's. "Where are you? Are you in orbit?"
"No," Kaylee replied, disappointed. "We're still three days out, but we're making good time. River says we'll be there ahead of schedule."
"Well, tell her you better be!" Simon demanded, and she could almost hear the smile. "God I have missed you so much!"
"Me too, Simon," Kaylee said. "I need to go now, much as I hate to. But I'll call again, when we're closer! Love you, ai ren."
"Love you too, Kaylee. More than words will tell you."
Kaylee shut off the cortex feed and sat back. She felt better than she had since she'd left Argo almost a month ago.
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"Gonna take an extra day for your maintenance and your port check, Captain Reynolds," the Dockmaster on Astra informed Mal. "I'm sorry, but we've had a round of the Inviran Flu, and almost half my staff is out sick. We're going as fast as we can, mind, but it's still slow going."
Mal hid his grimace, nodding in sympathy. There was nothing the man could do about sickness.
"So, day after tomorrow, then?" Mal asked instead.
"At the latest," the manager assured him. "And I'll try and get to it faster." Mal had been using the port's facilities ever since he took the job on Argo. He'd become a familiar face, and was a good client. The manager knew how to take care of good clients.
"Well, that's fine," Mal nodded. "Best you can do is the best you can do, no matter what. This flu strain, is it still makin' the rounds?"
"Word is that it's on the decline," the manager said cautiously. "But if you and your crew ain't innocced, might not be wise to mingle. It's a nasty virus. Ain't normally fatal, 'cept in the elderly and really young ones, and them what's already weakened by some'at else. Still, pays to be cautious."
"That it does," Mal agreed. "Well, we'll stick to the ship this trip, then. See you later." He shook hands and returned inside to deliver the bad news. For some reason, though, it didn't seem like bad news. He had a twitching on the back of his neck, and odd little tingle that he usually only felt when something was. . .wrong.
He put that aside, for now. They were as safe as they could possibly be under the circumstances, and there was no help for the delay. They'd just have to make the best of it.
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Later, as he reclined on the sofa in Inara's shuttle, Mal decided the delay wouldn't be that bad, maybe.
"How 'bout Wanderlust?" he asked, playing gently with Inara's hair.
"Not very strong, is it?" she giggled. "Thought a ship needed a strong name."
"Right," Mal said quickly. "Well, I guess we could call her Lusty," he grinned.
"Or Lusty Lass?" Inara laughed. "It would attract attention."
"Well," Mal's face went a bit red, "that's a bit more'n I had in mind." Inara laughed again, and he marveled at the sound.
"Well, do you want her to have a feminine name?" she asked teasing. "Should I be jealous?" He raised her head from his shoulder and kissed her gently.
"Not even of Serenity," he assured her. She blushed happily at that. "Could call her Private Companion," Mal offered hesitantly. He'd thought on the name for a while, but was unsure how she would respond to it. Now, while she was happy, was probably the best time to try it out.
Inara sat up sharply, looking at him.
"What?" she stammered.
"It's just a thought," he hurried to try and explain. "I didn't mean it in a bad way, honey, I swear. It was supposed to be a compliment, and maybe a declaration. Of sorts. Maybe." He stopped, feeling like he was falling further and further behind.
"Declaration?" Inara asked, delicate eyebrow arching. "What sort of declaration, Malcolm Reynolds?" Her voice was neutral, and Mal was almost sure he'd be using his own bunk again for the foreseeable future.
Too late to back out now, he decided.
"Well. You know. Of, well, me and you," he finished lamely, wondering where his resolve went so quickly.
"You'll have to do better than that," Inara snorted softly.
"Well, a declaration of. . .that is to say. . .well, what I mean is that. . ." he trailed off once again, then sighed.
"I love you, Inara," he said bluntly. "Have since I met you. These last few months have been. . .well, I ain't ever had life be better, and it ain't on account of a decent steady job either. If you wasn't here with me, it'd just be a payday, and that's all."
"But with you here, with me, like this? It's so much more than that. It's like a promise. Promise that the future might hold. And I don't want to let that go. Not ever. I want to grab hold, and hang on for all I'm worth."
"I want us to be together always, Inara, wherever life might take us. Wherever we are, if we're together, I know it'll be fine. May not always look it, but. . .well, a man's gotta have faith, Inara. Faith that life is good, at some basic level. You give me that, ai ren. That faith."
Inara looked stunned. In all the time she'd known him, Mal had never spoken so open, or so honestly.
"And this declaration of yours?" she prodded gently. "You're declaring what? That you wooed a Companion away from the Guild?" Her words sounded harsh, once she'd spoke them, but she hadn't intended them that way.
"No!" Mal objected. "It was meant to show you. . .it was meant for you, not anyone else! See I had this thought of you, not so long ago, where I thought of you as my companion. Not A Companion, like the guild, but my companion. My partner, my lover, my best friend. But more than all that, as someone I'd really like to spend the rest of my life with. Life companion."
"Are you asking me to marry you?" Inara asked suddenly, comprehension dawning.
"Well, not if that's a no," Mal grinned. "I ain't. . .I hadn't really meant for this to happen this way, Inara. I don't even have the ring yet, was 'sposed to pick it up this trip, but with the flu and all, I can't get to. . ." He broke off suddenly as Inara grabbed him by his shirt, and pulled her too him. Her lips met his with such force that he figured there'd be bruises come morning.
They stayed that way until Mal was almost desperate for air, and then Inara released him.
"Yes," she said simply.
Yes?" Mal gasped, face rising in hope.
"Yes," Inara nodded. "Yes, I will marry you. Whenever you get around to asking me, of course," she added with exaggerated nonchalance.
"Well," Mal recovered quickly, grinning. "That's mighty pleasing information, that is," he told her. He leaned forward and kissed her again, slower this time, with renewed passion.
"Mal," Inara mumbled around his kisses. "Mal!"
"What?" he pulled away, face showing concern. "What is it?"
"Sofa's not. . .comfortable," she winked, rising, and pulling him along with her toward the bed.
"Right."
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"So, since they's living on ship, now, the only way to hit'em is at the plant,' Withe said firmly. "And that's not a smart move. Harwell'd be put off by that."
"If we get the job done, won't matter," Jenkins objected. "He's got to have shippers, or he's outta business, remember? That was how we come to be in this fix."
Withe reddened at having his words thrown back at him, but held his tongue. Jenkins was right, after all. He had said the very thing before.
"That was different," he tried after a minute. "We begged off sayin' we was scared. Now, we go in there and do somethin' ta Reynolds and his bunch, or damage their ship, he'll know different. Gotta play this smart, we want back in."
"Then I see us back to square one," Ball said quietly. "They don't leave the ship much. Hell they don't leave the plant area when they do leave the ship."
"Well, I bet they don't stay on ship when they're on Astra," Withe remarked slyly. "Fact, I bet they's livin' it up there on coin that's rightly ours," he added, stoking the fire.
"Hit them on Astra?" Jenkins' face brightened a bit. "Yeah, that could work, right enough. Long as we did a real number on'em, Harwell couldn't rightly blame us for it."
"One problem," Ball put in. "If we ain't here, then someone might notice. That will lay the light right back on us, when word gets out."
"So we stay here," Withe shrugged. "We send some of our men, or hire it done."
"Ain't got a man on my crew ain't shed blood," Ball frowned. "But they ain't up to something like that."
"Well, my boy'll go, if there's a chance of a payoff." Jenkins smiled. "Or women," he added with a leer. "I'd rightly like to get hold o' that merc's little gal. She'd be a right sweet little. . ."
"Are you crazy?" Ball asked, astonished. "Zhang's men didn't but hurt her, and look what happened. That big hundan would rip your head clean off. Reynolds wasnt' kiddin' 'bout that. That one's a killer, boys, cold as they come. And I don't trust Reynolds' hold on him that much."
"Point," Withe nodded, looking at Jenkins. "Get your mind away from such, and right quick. We tryin' to get rid of a problem, not cause another one."
Jenkins sat back sullenly, nodding his submission. But inwardly, he schemed. He still might find a way to get hold of the merc's woman. She wouldn't be much trouble, he reasoned, not without that gun of hers.
"So, do we send our men?" Withe asked. "Or pool our coin and hire it done?"
"I ain't rightly got coin to pool," Ball admitted frankly. "Ain't even got what I need to fuel and stock my ship to look elsewhere for work."
"I'm 'bout the same," Jenkins agreed. "Mighty close to the blanket at the moment."
"I ain't no better off than you two," Withe grudgingly admitted. "So, we take from our own crew, and one of us goes along, with one ship. The other two stay here, and make sure plenty o' folks see's us."
"But who's going, and who's staying?" Jenkins asked, feigning disinterest. He was still thinking about that bit of a woman. And maybe that fancy woman of Reynolds', too.
"Don't rightly care," Ball said, "but the one what goes oughta be the one as will be least missed." Withe stared at Ball for a minute, realizing the brute had said something sensible for once.
"Right about that," he nodded with a smile. "I guess that let's me out. Been too vocal of late, about Reynolds. You?"
"Been spending lotta nights over at Jovy's," Ball admitted. "Might look odd the one night I ain't there, some'at happens to the source o' my troubles."
Jenkins almost smiled with glee. He would be the one to go, after all. Withe could huddle in a corner all he wanted too. Trace Jenkins always got what he wanted, and he had decided he wanted that girl.
"I guess that means I have to go," he groused. "Fine, but you two have to help with the fuel, else once we get back to hauling Harwell's freight, I won't have enough for the first half-run."
"We can do that," Withe nodded. "One of us makes the first run, and makes up your fuel from that," he looked to Ball, who nodded in agreement.
"Well, then, we got us a plan," Withe smiled broadly.
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