Post-Attack with Mal.

[badinlatin]

"But I'll be here when you're done..."

The first conscious thought that occurs to Captain Reynolds is that he is very cold, and that this condition might be due to the fact he has no shirt on and is lying facedown on an examination table.

Gorramitwelosti'mattheAcademy

Mal quickly attempts getting up - too quickly - and immediately falls back down on the table, pain zipping through his right side.

Once it passes through Mal's head that he should look around this room he's in, he might see Simon's meticulously-ordered medical supplies throughout this sterile room.

And the person about to enter into it.

Comments

[badinlatin]

Mal torques the corner of his mouth a bit and ushers Wash in to take the stool next to the bed.

"...We made it. Wo de ma."

Mal doesn't add anything to that statement, as if he is scared to.

[flybywash]

Wash's face breaks into a bright, shining grin.

"Yeah." Soft. "We made it."

Beat.

"Xièxie nĭ."

[badinlatin]

"Now what the hell are you thankin' me for, Wash." Mal's breath hitches for a second and Mal speaks through it anyway. "I ain't done nothin' anyone else here did."

If Mal's eyes are getting bright, it's all those painkillers he's on. Definitely.

[flybywash]

A shrug.

"I don't know," he says, casually shifting his feet onto the lowest rung of the stool as he wraps his hands around the seat. "Maybe 'cause some grumpy old húndàn told me about all these wacky things a captain does to make sure his crew gets out of danger and peril okay. Ain't like I'm giving you all the credit here, the last thing we need is the captain turning into an insufferable egomaniac on us, but...."

He looks down.

"Everybody's still here. I'd call that a thanks-worthy victory."

[badinlatin]

Mal's face slowly builds into a smile, as though he had almost forgotten how. He opens his mouth to probably say some words of thanks or kindness, when---

"What the hell do you mean everyone's still here? I saw River, Roland, Anthy and Tom in the hallway. The explosion."

[flybywash]

"Well...."

Wash scratches the back of his neck.

"That's the funny thing. You know that Opening trick Tom can do? Seems he did it right before everything went to hell on you."

His smile dims.

"I -- I don't know about Roland or Anthy, but River and Tom both made it back okay."

[badinlatin]

River's okay. River's okay.

"That's...that's shiny." Mal's vocabulary escapes him at the moment. "Simon must be relieved." Mal's never seen Simon as unable to handle himself in a situation given the right push, but he wouldn't want to come between him and his sister.

[flybywash]

"Just a little bit, yeah."

Amused now. He shifts the stool a little bit closer to Mal.

[badinlatin]

Mal's head begins to feel a bit swimmy again, so he leans himself against the table, which he had just folded up into a seating position. Taking extra care to not mess up the doc's good work, he eyes Wash carefully.

"I was ready, Wash. To die. Over on the station. Would have been easy enough."

[flybywash]

"See, but then what would've happened is my wife would become captain, which would move Jayne up to first mate. And then we'd all have to flee the ship in terror for our lives."

He grows more serious.

"I know you were. And yeah, it really would've been.

"I'm glad you didn't."

[badinlatin]

Mal's mind flashes quickly to the key on the black leather strap. He needs to get that back whenever he's up and moving about.

"Thank you. 'S good to hear," he replies, offering a quick smile of gratefulness in return.

A moment's pause, then: "Have I ever told you when my birthday is?"

[flybywash]

"...You know, I don't think you have. This is a tragedy and should be corrected."

Beat.

"Though I think I should point out that my thanks doesn't extend far enough to buying you five years' worth of repairs or something."

[badinlatin]

Mal laughs and stops himself suddenly from this, grabbing the side of his chest from the pain of laughter and merriment.

Stoic yet smiley, Mal proclaims, "I'm turning 33 on the 30th. Somehow, all o' this is making me want to celebrate makin' it to 33 a bit more than I had beforehand."

[flybywash]

Wash's jaw drops in mock dismay. "You mean I've been taking orders for the past six years from someone who's four months younger than me?" he complains. "Oh, cruel justice. You overlook me yet again."

The smile he's been struggling to hold back finally surfaces. "Fortunately, that won't stop me from getting you something nice. If I can think of anything. Can you think of anything?"

[badinlatin]

"I had no idea I was younger 'n you. Explains my charming demeanor with the womenfolk I suppose." Mal gives up on not being amused for the moment. As long as his ribs don't hurt him too bad.

"Presents? Ah, damn, I don't know. Don't tell me you can't figure out somethin'? Just...don't get me drunk 'n take pictures o' me no more."

[flybywash]

"Of course not, sir. I'd never do that. I've learned my lesson well."

By which he really means: not at all. As evidenced by the innocent expression on his face.

And, a shrug. "I got some time, I bet I'll come up with something."

[badinlatin]

"For right now," Mal peers at Wash with a strain in his voice, "how 'bout I sleep, and you not fly us into a moon?"

Not that Mal thinks Wash would. But it's a comforting feeling to get back into a routine of back-and-forth. Normal.

[flybywash]

Wash laughs. "Okay, Mal. I'll get right on with that not-crashing."

Carefully, he pats the captain's shoulder as he stands.

"Sleep well."

And exit one pilot, stage right.