12) And Use My Head Alongside My Heart
Mal considered the youngest (in theory) member of the crew over the rim of his coffee mug. Jack, age undetermined, skinny, shaved head growing out into dark hair with a hint of curl to it, dark eyes and a mouth with attitude to spare. Simon had spoken with him quite seriously about the girl, her need for regular meals, supplements and meds to help her achieve the height to which she was genetically entitled.
And Mal didn't have a problem with any of that. Worse came to worst they'd pull another job like St. Lucy's to get what they needed.
Try as he might, he couldn't put his finger on what it was bothered him about the girl. She was quiet, sticking to Rick or Carolyn like glue, and in four weeks of being on the boat he'd rarely seen Jack on her own. He could tell Rick was severely discomforted by Jack's open adoration, not that he blamed the man one bit. Rick didn't seem the type to have a lot of patience with children.
"Jack, when you're finished, come along to the bridge," He said finally, drinking the last of his coffee. "Like to show you a thing or two, make sure you're aware of where everything is."
"Yeah…okay," She nodded warily and Mal grinned.
"Ain't like you're headed to the guillotine little one," He remarked as he left the galley.
It took her some time; likely she'd dawdled and delayed as long as she dared before coming up the hall to the bridge and knocking on the door frame. Mal turned in the pilot's chair and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Jack, c'mon in, have a seat," He indicated the co-pilot's chair. "See? Nary a guillotine in sight."
"What's a guillotine," She frowned over the word as she sat. Straight backed in the chair, hands gripping the arms, toes pressing to the floor as if ready to run at a moment's notice.
"It's a…" Mal leaned forward and hit a few buttons to bring up the cortex screen, showing her the ancient execution device. "They were real big back on Earth-That-Was for a while, new-fangled method of chopping off your head, 'stead of an axe might or might not be sharp." Her eyes grew big, but she didn't act horrified the way some girls might. Getting to know bits and pieces of her with every conversation.
"Huh," She tilted her head curiously. "What was wrong with an axe?"
"Well, as I understood it back when River was explaining the thing to me," Mal deliberately began to project what he called his 'old-man-story-teller' attitude. "See, she got on a kick about revolutions and the historical significance of 'em for…oh 'bout a week. Guillotine's an' old French word, I guess. But before, they'd hang ya or use an axe to chop off your head." He shrugged, "Far as I could see from what she said, an axe might be sharp, or heavy, but the fella holding it might not be too bright or careful. An' if he wasn't…well…" He spread his hands, "Don't imagine it's much comfortable, havin' an axe come down an' hit your head or your back instead of your neck. Or if it ain't sharp enough to cut through your neck on the first try."
Jack wrinkled her nose at the thought, and he grinned, "Yeah, so the guillotine drops that sharp blade from a great height, an' if it ain't quite as sharp as it should be, the weight of it and the speed does the trick."
"Sounds…civilized," Jack said finally, her mouth twisting in derision.
"Well, there's been times a good clean death seemed preferable to the alternative," He spread his hands. Now she looked good and horrified and he elaborated, "You ain't ever been in a POW camp Jack. Leastways I hope not. Nor had to live in the aftermath of a war for weeks on end until someone saw fit to send medical ships. Ain't somethin' I'd recommend." She nodded slowly and he clicked a few more buttons to take the image down. Something in her face when he'd mentioned River, poke there a bit maybe, "How're the lessons coming? The self-defense River's teaching you?" He added when she simply looked confused.
Her jaw tightened minutely, something maybe he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been watching for it, and she seemed to pick her words more carefully, "Okay, I guess. Seems like it takes forever."
"Don't care much for it?" He threw another smile her way, "I don't have much patience for all the forms myself. Street fighting's closer to my abilities."
"Guess I'd just rather learn to use a gun or a shiv," Jack admitted. Interesting choice of words there, shiv, not your run of the mill vocabulary for a teenage girl.
"Well, there's nothin' wrong with that, I'm fairly comfortable with a sidearm myself," The Captain nodded. "But when you run out of bullets, or someone takes the knife away, knowin' what to do without them comes in mighty handy." He felt his mouth twist upward in a half smile, "'Course River's hardly any bigger'n a minute so it's some disconcertin' havin' her be so good at fighting."
"I wondered why she was teaching me, instead of you or Zoë, or Rick even," Jack admitted. "She don't seem old enough to be able to fight or teach or be a pilot either."
Now she was fishing…so give her a little nibble on the bait, "Well she's past eighteen." He picked up one of Wash's dinos, made sure it was free of dust. "And she picks things up quick. Always has from what I understand. She was on the ship less than a full year and she flies Serenity just as well as I do."
"So she studied to be a pilot," Jack seemed to be considering that.
"Hmm…from the best, Zoë's husband Wash, was our pilot for a good few years 'fore he was killed," Mal hoped his tone indicated that particular topic was off limits.
"But she ain't gone to flight school or anythin' like Caro," The girl frowned.
"Didn't need to," He shook his head. "Like Kaylee, she's got natural talent, tiān cái." He considered her thoughtfully, "Other reason River's the one teaching you, you're similar in size."
"What's that got to do with anything," Jack shook her head.
"As I understand it, you learn from someone the same size, means you're learning to fight people who're your equal, then you learn how to fight folks bigger or smaller than you," He shrugged. "River'd probably explain it better." He tilted his head at the sight of her wrinkled forehead and decided a subject change was in order. "We have gone a little far afield from what I was wanting to talk with you about though."
Wary again, spine stiffening from the relaxed posture she'd melted into as they spoke, "What about?"
Mal gave her a lazy smile, "Dunno how much you know 'bout what they used to call 'maritime law' Jack." He sat up in his chair and leaned forward slightly. "Anything?"
She shook her head, still wary, eyes on him like he was a snake ready to strike. He had to give her credit for that, a lot of folk would rather look away and hope they'd be overlooked. Jack kept her eye on a possible threat.
"Covers a lot of different situations," He nodded. "You can look it up on the cortex or Simon'll lend you his encyclopedia. He's done considerable research on the topic having had quite a few disagreements with me." He grinned thinking of Simon and his mule stubborn streak. "Couple of the high points is that aboard a ship, a Captain's word is law, with very few exceptions. One of them bein' if a couple is married, Captain can't use his power to order one of the couple to his bed. Can't really order anyone to his bed which is pretty much fine with most Captains in the 'verse." He shrugged, "Never held with that sorta gǒushǐ duī behavior myself."
Jack's jaw eased slightly and Mal shrugged, pretending he hadn't noticed. "The downside of that is anything happens on the boat; the Captain is responsible. Simon takes it into his head to smuggle someone in a box or Kaylee clunks someone over the head with a wrench an' kills 'em, they're my crew, and I'm responsible for them. Anything illegal occurs and the weight of it falls on everyone, but most of all on the Captain because he's the one in charge."
The girl nodded slowly, and Mal half smiled, "Now. I figure you can go an' look up the fine points later. But my aim here is to make sure you're here willin'." When Jack frowned, obviously confused, Mal elaborated, "Rick an' Caro ain't kidnapped you?"
That got a burst of incredulous giggles as humor and nerves combined, "No! No, they saved me. I'd've died a couple times over if it weren't for them." She shook her head, a half-smile still curving her lips. "They coulda dumped me off somewhere or sent me to live with…another friend but they didn't."
Telling, that little pause, but now wasn't the time to pursue it. "Well, that's good," Mal nodded. "Didn't think it was anything like that but when it's kids, gotta be sure is all." He leaned back in his chair, regarding her thoughtfully, "That bein' said, you don't gotta talk on your past if you don't want. But if you're running from something it'd be good to know what."
Her slow nod, smile fading, wasn't much reassuring and he hoped he hadn't been too heavy handed. "I haven't done anything illegal," She said quietly. "If that's what you're worried about."
She hadn't, but he was willing to bet Rick had, and Caro too. All three of them were nervy about questions. "Didn't figure you had," He agreed. "But you wouldn't be the first to come aboard Serenity, running from something. Even if you're just trying to put some distance between you and your past."
"I…" She stopped and shook her head, "Just more comfortable with Rick an' Caro." She said slowly as if picking her way through a minefield of words. He knew that feeling pretty gorram well himself. "Questions just… people always want to know things." She spat the last two words, "They act like they're all concerned. Like they care about you. But they're just doing a job. Just checking off their boxes. They want you to be all right. And when you're not they want you to get over it. Be good and smile and be pretty and sweet and if, when, you can't be what they want they just give up on you."
"I see," Mal had a very good idea of what she meant. Kids like Jack, not easily slotted into a box, were nothing but trouble for any system.
"You sure?" Oh, that anger, so carefully hidden, boiling over from the slow simmer behind her eyes. "My mom died when I was small, maybe about three? Some factory accident, I don't really remember it. And my dad…he raised me. I wasn't a girly girl anyway, but he raised me the way he was raised. Kept me out of trouble at least. And we were okay for a while. But about five years later my dad was shot over a gambling debt. I remember that just fine." Burning eyes, daring him to comment, to commiserate or offer sympathy, "Not a lot of people who know what it feels like, do they? To be angry. In your bones. People understand, foster parents understand. Sure… everybody understands." That word, she said it like the lie it was. "For a while. Then they expect the angry kid to do what she knows she can never do. To move on. To forget."
She shrugged, staring at him, "So they stopped understanding and sent the angry kid to a girls' home. Only I didn't fit in there either. Too much like a boy to fit in there. Physically a girl, so I didn't fit in with the boys." The frustrated smile on her face nearly hid all that rage, "See, I figured it out too late. You have to hide the anger. Practice smiling in the mirror. Like putting on a mask." She shrugged, "But by the time I figured it out, I'd gotten too old, been there too long."
"Why'd you leave?" Mal kept the sympathy he felt out of his voice, she wouldn't thank him for anything that could be mistaken for pity. "If you were getting an education at least?"
"I wasn't book smart, or good at girls' things, cooking or taking care of people, wasn't good at anything they wanted me to learn. Least it felt that way, maybe I'd have come across something 'feminine' enough that I had a talent for, eventually," Jack was giving him honest answers at least though he found it interesting she referred to cooking and taking care of people as 'girls' things'. "When you get to be twelve, they start you on a work program, half school and half on the job training." She shook her head, "They put me in the laundry. Guess they figured I couldn't screw up soap and water and scrubbing. And I got this…picture in my head, like this long hallway of the rest of my life, picking up baskets of laundry until I was too old to bend over anymore. And I didn't want that. So I ran."
"Simon mentioned you're about…fifteen now?" Mal tilted his head, "What'd you do between then and now?"
"Lived on the streets for a while. Ran with a bunch of kids who'd left the homes for one reason or another," She shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "Ran errands for some of the people who knew a kid wouldn't be looked at too close. Hitched rides when something went sideways. Got a ride on the same ship Caro piloted. 'S how I ended up here."
"Learn anything useful while you were on the street?" Jack was extremely attached to Rick, even more so than Carolyn and he would've thought it the other way around. Most kids with sense would find Rick terrifying. No confirmation or denial of her age though, so she could be younger, or she could be older.
"Learned to do a lift, and a pass off," She shrugged again. "Played lookout a lot. Learned to figure out who was a lawman and who wasn't."
"Handy tricks to have," Mal nodded. "Might be something you want to keep up. Never know when you might need something, and skills fade if they're not used. We can rig something up with bells or you can practice on us, so long as you let us know you'll be doing it and give back whatever you lift." He gave her a smile, "Might've accidentally found yourself amongst folk who do understand Jack." Funny how she'd started out saying she hadn't done anything illegal but unless she came from a mighty strange planet, picking pockets was definitely on the unlawful side. Maybe she had a line between necessary crime and other acts of breaking the law.
"Maybe," She nodded and shifted in her chair restlessly.
"Go on if you want," Mal nodded towards the door. "I expect you've got chores you need to do."
She took off as if her chair was on fire and Mal looked after her. She ran through the galley as if the hounds of hell were chasing her. Unseen by the fleeing girl Rick's huge frame melted out of the shadows of the forward stairwell. A nod to Mal and he continued on his way to the galley.
Author's Note: So I blatantly stole a lot of Jack's little speech from Batman: The Dark Knight Rises. That bit about being angry down to your bones…that struck me as being very like Jack.
Chinese Translations:
tiān cái ( talent / gift / genius / talented / gifted)
gǒushǐ duī (a person who behaves badly (lit. "a pile of dog shit"))
