Mal and Book at Haven, round one.

[badinlatin]

Everyone had their own little corners of Haven. Kaylee usually entertained the young ones, Jayne always finds a couple guys to trade stories or cigars with.

Mal, at least this time, has ended up on a hillside with Shepherd Book, flask in hand, trading stories of their own.

"...This isn't a palms-up military run, Mal. No reports broadwaved, no warrants...much as they want her, they want her hid. That means Closed File. Means an Operative, which is trouble you've not known."

Mal's face gains a more serious pall. "I coulda left her there. On Beaumonde. I had an out - hell, I had every reason in the 'verse to leave her lay and haul anchor."

Book moves back into Mal's view full-on as he says, "Not your way, Mal."

"I have a way?" Slightly incredulous. "That better than a plan?"

"Listen, you can play the thug all you want, but there's more to you than you're ever like to 'fess."

Mal shakes a finger at Book. "You just think that 'cause my eyes is all sorrowful and pretty."

"Only one thing is gonna walk you through this, Mal." A pause. "Belief."

Mal's face falls to almost a scowl.

"Worship God because you believe he's real, because you had an epiphany, because you were raised to. But not because you want to be happy."

"Once upon a time you told me I was happier not believin' in God, Shepherd. Somethin' change your mind?"

Book almost looks fed up, making a face at Mal as though he were some petulant child. "When I talk about belief, why do you always assume I'm talking about God?" No interruption from Mal as Book stares out to the bonfire below them both. "Besides, we're a long way past worrying about happy. It's down to survival now, Mal. They will come for you--and they'll come at you sideways. It's how they think: sideways. It's how they move. Sidle up and smile, hit you where you're weak." Bringing his gaze back to Mal, Book states, "Sorta man they're like to send believes hard. Kills and never asks why."

Mal says nothing for a long two or three beats, taking a draught of his flask. "It's of interest to me how much you seem to know about that world."

"I wasn't born a Shepherd, Mal." A smile. Maybe. If Book felt like letting you read it that way.

"Have to tell me about that some time."

Looking back to the bonfire, an answer came: "No I don't." A hand to Mal's shoulder as a reminder before Book goes down to join the others: "Sideways."