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[flybywash]

It's taken five days, but the first hints of land-craziness are finally starting to prickle his skin.

Tomorrow, Wash thinks. The pain's dropped down to little more than the occasional twinge if he moves too sharply, and he's walking (okay, hobbling) further and further without feeling like he just ran ten miles at a dead sprint. Tomorrow morning he'll go up to room 76 for a while; tomorrow night, hopefully, he'll see about going back to Serenity.

Even if it's only for a couple hours.

He sits on his side of the bed, crosslegged, and flips through Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle #45.

Comments

[flybywash]

"Like -- ?"

Oh, yeah. That part.

Wash shuts his eyes and cradles his forehead in one hand. "Can we not do this now, sweetheart?"

[badinlatin]

Mal throws a hand up. "I came here 'cause you asked me to, Zo', not so he could---"

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe cuts Mal off, adressing Wash.

"Oh? When would you suggest we do it? Because really, dear, our collective track record for not talkin' about things when we should ain't all that encouragin'."

[flybywash]

"There's nothing to talk about! Nothing I wanna talk about if what we're talking about is what I think we're talking about!" To Mal, "Is it what we're talking about?"

[badinlatin]

A grunt.

"Yes."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe eyes them both. "Sounds like there's somethin' to talk about after all, then."

[flybywash]

Wash has a look in his eye that suggests that right now, staying dead would've been a more preferable track.

He glares at Mal.

Mostly because he's afraid to glare at Zoe instead.

[badinlatin]

Mal glares back. Hard.

Could be he knows better than to glare at Zoe either.

"Well then."

Mal sure as hell isn't gonna start.

[flybywash]

Wash isn't too keen on this starting thing, either.

Problem is, if any period of silence starts lasting too long, he has to do something to make it stop.

Five...four...three....

"Okay," he snaps. "You wanna make sure we're safe. Fine. I don't see how me asking that we not go on another suicide mission goes the contradict-y route here."

[badinlatin]

Wow, look at that domino effect.

Mal snaps back, "And where exactly in that 'never again' clause does it cover what I'm to do if possible suicide mission's what's needed to keep us safe? What if someone comes after us again with a will against you? or Zoe? You want me to put up half a fight 'gainst 'em 'cause I promised you I wouldn't go full-out?"

[flybywash]

"You had me take a crowbar to the gorram ship, Mal! You had Zoe stringing corpses over her! You know what, it's great, it really is, that we got the Miranda broadwave out. It's also something ended with me lookin' at myself with a ruttin' pole in my chest!"

He forces himself to breathe.

Levelly, "I'm not doing that again. You ask me to, I won't."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Mal draws in a sharp breath, his hands clenching into fists at his side.

Zoe tries not to flinch, and almost succeeds.

She pushed him into letting this out. She can only hope it'll end up better out than held in.

Her arms are still folded. The nails of one hand are digging into the skin near her elbow.

[badinlatin]

Mal stares at both Zoe and Wash in turn. Can't run now.

Not even sure he could.

Mal's eyes are gray.

"Out of all the people I've gotten killed, you're the first one of 'em all who's come back from it.

"Tell me - do you fault me more for getting you killed or the extravagant way I went about it?"

[flybywash]

Wash takes another deep, shaky breath and scrubs at his face.

He can't look at Mal.

"Right now, maybe a little bit of both."

[badinlatin]

Mal only mildly stops putting so much pressure into the half-moon nail indentations that have already formed on his palms from fisting his hands.

"And you still intend on coming back to Serenity? When you can't even look at me straight?"

[flybywash]

"I was."

Wash raises his head.

[badinlatin]

"Can't work for someone you hate."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe says nothing.

She's not looking at either of them.

[flybywash]

"Mal, look."

He blinks, rapidly, as his eyes well up.

"It's been three weeks for you. It's been five days for me, and it ain't 'til this afternoon that I've felt anywhere near approaching normal. You can't ask me to do this again right now.

"Please."

[badinlatin]

"I didn't want to do none o' this in the first, Wash."

Mal swallows, hard, and his gaze shifts.

"I didn't want to do any of it. I live on ifs and maybes when my head wants solid." A random hand through his hair. "I am trying. Real hard. I want to be solid. Maybe solid's what I've been goin' for all along.

"It's the lack o' that what failed ya, to my understanding. For all I made happen around me, I failed."

[flybywash]

What can he say to that?

It's an apology, or as much of one as he's expecting to get.

A long beat of silence, and tiny, tiny ghost of a smile. "You're damn lucky I got bored and came back, sir."

And as much of an acknowledgement as he can give in return right now.

[badinlatin]

"Sounds as though I need to make good now."

[flybywash]

"I'll be back on board tomorrow. I think."

He pokes at his right knee.

"Still kind of hobbly, but...."

[badinlatin]

"Might have to fight River for your seat back."

[flybywash]

Wash cants his head, confused.

"What? River...why?"