Mal

Mal knocked softly on the door to Inara’s shuttle. Receiving no response, he pushed open the door.

“Get out!” Mal located the source of the fierce order huddled on the large, luxurious bed. She was turned away and refused to look in his direction.

Mal approached slowly and cupped his hand under her chin, turning her head gently in his direction. Inara glared at him, her eyes red and moist with tears and a look of total misery on her face.

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Simon tugged at a suture in Jayne’s arm, trying to make his work as sturdy as possible. Jayne wasn’t one to actually listen to warnings to take it easy. Nor was he one to fret about a day’s events the way Simon was. He thought about the battered and exhausted Mal he’d just finished treating and the proud little smile on his face when he’d thanked Simon for his part of the mission.

The man I least want to become is proud of me. Now that’s a disturbing concept. He satisfied himself that the hole in Jayne’s arm was well enough repaired, and started tending to his more minor injuries, lost in thought.

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Mal leaned his head back against the consoles and squeezed his eyes shut. Shit. What was it about this ‘verse that seemed to only grant him five minutes to catch his breath in between catastrophes? He stood and spoke into the tiny camera.

“Uh, sir? I’m gonna have to find the captain, I can’t authorize that on my own,” said Mal with his best insecure grin. It didn’t take much acting at that very moment.

“You will immed-”

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The unsteady lurching of the makeshift platform might have proved nauseating had it not been for the relief of entering fresh air and arising out of the din of the coliseum into the quiet, soothing night sky. As they were slowly winched up to the ship, Simon handed Zoe a small vial.

“Break it under his nose,” said Simon, nodding at the unconscious pilot whom Zoe was once again clutching in her arms. “Ammonia, might be all it takes to bring him round.”

Zoe did so, looking around as she heard a groggy voice. “Pretty shiny rescue. I’m startin’ to think you got a knack for this,” Mal said weakly.

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“Simon!” barked Zoe, completing her scan of the arena and satisfying herself that there weren’t any more threats lurking in the shadows created by the dancing colored spotlights. “Get in here, ma shong. Kaylee, you up there?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Lower it, now,” Zoe ordered, breaking into a jog as she covered the ground to her husband’s limp form, trying to quell the dread in her heart. River followed her, scanning the chaos, trying to locate the image she had seen as she entered the stadium, longing to comfort Mal and erase the sadness from his eyes.

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