Title: In the Sky and to the Horizon
Author: PwnedByPineapple
Summary: Maybe he's mad. Or maybe he can see what others can't. The answer doesn't change a thing for Mal and his Serenity.
Rating/Warning(s): K; none
Notes: Companion to the Supernatural fic "On the Road and to the Horizon" and the Pirates of the Caribbean fic "Across the Sea and to the Horizon". Inspired by the series Axis Powers Hetalia, which has given me an unhealthy obsession with personifying things.
Disclaimer: This fangirl owns nothing.
Mal offers to fly Serenity for a little while and let Wash spend some quality time with Zoe, but he's not exactly doing it out of any goodness his heart may have. No - there's a reason, but he keeps it to himself. Can't have the rest of the crew thinking their captain is insane.
The black has a lonely quality about it that most men find frightening, that they'd turn away from. Mal finds it almost companionable and faces it head on. When he doesn't think about the kind of death it could give him, that only a few feet of metal and wiring and engine turning stand between him and that death, he finds it almost beautiful. It's so massive and empty, but it's his roadway, and it gives shelter to him and his crew, to those with no homes.
He sits alone in the bridge, but not for long. She comes along soon enough.
"I think that today is more beautiful than most days," she begins, in a very philosophical tone of voice. She's in the copilot's seat, utterly at ease there.
"You always say that," he reminds her, but he doesn't mind. Not really.
The spirit of Serenity smiles playfully, sweeping her silvery hair back to better regard him. "Doesn't mean it isn't true."
"Some people would say it always looks the same," Mal tells her. "Can't even tell that it's s'pposed to be daytime."
"Does it matter?" she asks him, still smiling. "I think it all comes down to a matter of perspective."
He doesn't know why, but they often get into little debates like this. She always takes the positive stance, always tries to brighten things, and sometimes he wonders if it's just his mind warring with itself.
Or perhaps he cursed himself when he named his ship Serenity. Maybe he brought the ghost of that valley back with him.
If that's the case, then oddly enough, he wouldn't exactly consider it a curse.
They lapse into silence, because sometimes that's just as good as speaking. Mal checks their course only periodically, trusting the girl sitting beside him to warn him if anything is amiss, and he feels oddly relaxed. His eyes are on the bridgescreen, studying all he can see through it... which isn't much. It's stars that he sees, all around, too far away to really grasp the distance.
The stars are what make the black bearable, he finds. They're familiar and warm, even at such a distance - signs of life in a place that humanity is not at home in. A man can find his way home using the stars... or, if he so chooses, he can make them his home.
Such was Mal's choice. Such was the choice of his crew.
And the reason that they even have a home is sitting right beside him, keeping him company because she knows he needs it.
He opens his mouth to mention that, to thank her for it now that it's on his mind, but he finds that he can't quite get the words to come out. Sentimentality is not one of his strong points.
She looks away from the sight of the stars and glances at him, smiling again, as if she knows exactly what he's trying to say. "You don't really have to say it," she tells him, and he marvels at her ability to read his intentions like a book... or maybe he's just transparent. "I like having a crew. I like being needed. It's an honor to carry you."
"Yeah, well... don't see what's so honorable about it," Mal mutters.
"It's exciting," she says, a mischievous edge touching her grin.
"Can't argue with that." Mal chuckles to himself, and as he lets himself become thoughtful again, he wonders what would happen if any of his crew came walking in to see him talking to thin air. He could always pass it off as talking to himself, but still...
"If it's such an honor," he says, "why jus' me?"
The woman takes on a thoughtful expression. "You named me," she says at last. "You found a use for me when no one else would. You are my captain." Her smile returns all of a sudden, even more mischievous than before. "And besides... who says it's just you?"
He can never really tell if she's kidding or not when she gets like this, so he doesn't pursue the issue, even though he's starting to wonder if it is, indeed, just him.
Or maybe he really is insane. He grimaces a little, and she notices. She can always tell when something is bothering him.
"What is it?" she inquires.
"Is this... all in my head?" Mal asks hesitantly. He wouldn't be surprised if he did bring the ghost of Serenity Valley back with him, if only in his mind. After all, one never leaves that place.
"Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't," is her answer, playful and gently chiding. He knows that she's telling him, in her own way, not to worry about it. "Can't you decide for yourself what's real and what's not?"
"That's not exactly easy for us humans, y'know."
"But it's a simple thing," she insists. "If you believe it to be real, then it is... for you. Like I said before... perspective."
It's a most maddeningly unhelpful answer, but annoyingly enough, it makes too much sense for him to argue. He sighs, shaking his head at her, and he finds that her grin is irresistible. He smiles back.
Captain and ship, they carve a path through the silent black, and Mal finds that her answer begins to make more and more sense the longer he's in her company. It's hard to believe that she's not real, that somehow his ship lives in a form he can communicate with, and there's no denying the effect she has on him. She relaxes him, clears his mind. She's something he can depend on to protect him and his crew. She's a constant in an inconstant world.
She's home.