badinlatin | Mal, the Hope, the Interruption.

Marian was halfway to the ship before she realized quite where she was from the depth of her thoughts. She supposed she must have missed the constant sound and the scent of the ocean (and the rocking of the Hope).

The soft sleepy ache feeling in her stomach, purposely misplaced for weeks, was pushed aside rather quickly when the dimming night betrayed the figure of a person standing upon the Hope in the distance.

Mal's seen Marian as well, but doesn't really regard her heavily for more than a second or two.

He's got

What if she don't come back?

more important things on his mind.

Marian, sad for Mal's sake, does not dismiss him. Her step quickened to something between a step and a run, the kind of lope one could hardly get past in such a dress as she still wore.

And her mouth was hardly patient, when she blurted out, loudly and lacking in kindness, making her way down the dock. "What are you doing on the Hope?"

Now Mal is not likely to dismiss her anymore either, and he stands facing the woman.

"Who the good gorram are you to ask?"

She'd reached the place where it was tethered, looking up at the man (did they all have to be so bloody tall here?) with defiant flashing blue-grey eyes.

"The only person left to look after her." It was pert, and she felt some burn in having to say those words aloud. It'd grown silent in her working on her own life. Throwing them at someone didn't hurt either. "Not that it's any of your business."

Her features were sharp, but not more than her voice, "I asked you a question."

"Anythin' havin' to do with the Hope is my business," Mal seethes. "And it seems I'm the one holdin' the papers to 'er and not the rudest o' women I've met here in months."

It feels so right -- for the first time since Mal's been back. Like he's taking charge, and he knows what's supposed to be going on, and the other person is just wrong.

Marian steadied a moment on his middle words, completely ignoring the last part, eyes narrowing.

"What papers?"

"Oh, just the letter from Caspian to 'is sister givin' the Hope to -- who the hell are you to be askin' me this?"

It comes out angry and harsh and frustrated. This really is the last thing Mal needs; an interrogation about what is already his.

There was the swiftest look of pain, in and out of her features, that had nothing to do with Caspian and everything to do with the last few weeks spent against the boat and beach.

"Amy gave it to you?"

No, Caspian did. Two different its but they blended in her mind.

"'Less Caspian has more 'n one sister."

Maybe he did, and Mal's struck for a moment.

"Look, lady -- I'm not precise in the mood for playin' games, so..."

Mal looks away from Marian on the dock, turning to resume his previous perch looking out over the lake.

She really didn't like this. It was easily checked, but she had the sinking feeling that it was most likely right.

And she didn't know everything about Caspian, because for as deep as their friendship had been it was also short-lived in comparison to his time.

Her expression had tight, but her voice was slightly smoother this time, trying not to seem too agitated.

"What are you planning to do with her?"

Spinning on his heel:

"It's my ship! I'm thinkin' either concubines or livin' off of it for the rest o' my days; what's it to you?"

"More than it is to you obviously, or have you not noticed the distinct lack of your care for her since his death!"

It came out in roar, her cheeks pink first in exertion and rage, and, followed by, embarrassment.

Mal doesn't see the embarrassment in his haste to climb down to the dock, barely caring enough to make sure this woman knows he's not coming toward her to physically attack her.

The thought crossed his mind, however, as he unfolds Caspian's note for the millionth time and practically shoves it in her face.

Barely a foot away: "I was not here. Get off your high horse you [idiotic piece of lunacy]."

Marian didn't lose backbone with his person (he really was tall, wasn't he?) or the letter shoved into her face. Tearing it from his hands, she looked down at it.

She didn't even pretend to read it; the hand writing was enough a proof for her.

Exactly as hers had been.

Even not reading it, she stared it rather than looking up just yet, rather than thinking what the language he'd spoken meant.

Because, well-meaning or not as the defense had been, she was in the wrong. And she knew it.

Mal's molars grind for a painful minute as he regains control over a regulated breathing pattern.

"Can I have my letter back now? ...Ma'am?"

She nodded, holding out both the things he requested at once.

"Marian."

There was surprisingly, no bite but, some very deep quiet in her words now.

"I'm sorry." And she did sound it. Even if she was more sorry for the things she wasn't apologizing for.

"Captain Malcolm Reynolds," he replies, still in a huff and stern toward Marian.

It's a lot longer before he can manage a 'Apology accepted', but he does it.

Her expression didn't lighten much, but it was interrupted by a look of curiosity suddenly which caused her eyes to come up and search his face.

"You're Sallie's b- son?"

She looked like she might be a little more embarrassed now.

"Please tell me you did not talk to my ma like that."

"I would never address such a woman in that fashion."

There was a frown. On principle.
But it was not a mean, nor cruel, type of frown.

Feeling a little chagrin in her storming and their yelling, she added. "I met her a few weeks ago, but had the chance to run into her again recently when there was a meet and greet for the teachers and students of the House of Arch Academy."

Mal's calming, and visibly so.

He's not above needling, though.

"And what do you teach, precisely? Besides assumptions and possible kleptomanaiacal tendencies?"

Marian did notice the bait, but she took it with her normal grace.

"Archery, for all the children, and a second dose of princess lessons for Ingress, focusing on the covert nature of courts."

There was a moments pause, as she looked at the boat and her eyes lingered toward the horizon, thinking about other conversation snippets that wee connecting now that she knew which person he was.

"You went with the Pearl?"

"After, not with."

He doesn't elaborate.

It's not good enough reason--

Because it's the Hope, that's been his and been left alone, and the Hope was her last link forged after they walked into the clouds

--but saying it means there was good reason.

"I took care of her, as best I could." This part is said looking off still, and it takes the movement of her face and lips to force out further. "I don't know much about boats, but you'll find her in good shape."

Make it a home --

This softens the lines on Mal's face more so than anything else.

"Xiexie. Thank you."

Marian nodded, more absently than certainly, because she wasn't sure it was ever a conscious choice. She did not take well to endings, and she'd only taken better to this one in being busy with a focus connected to it.

One that was now gone.

"I should leave you to your ship. I am sorry."

There's a bravery in the way she makes this statement, making sure not to hitch or pause at any of the words. That even at the hardest one (your) there is nothing but the smooth glide of her 'calm voice'. w

Mal doesn't know what to say, and is even less sure about whether saying anything at all wouldn't just lead to more yelling. He lets Marian leave.

Mal moves back toward the Hope, reaching for the rope-knot ladder.

Marian made it close to a half a dozen steps before she found herself turned round, and looking at him going up the ladder.

"I don't have so much the right to ask this, seeing as I did what I did."

Which sounded somehow better than yelled at you and accused you.

"But I came out here after they all left that night. And all the week or two after. And it's only really every handful of days lately, but I just, it couldn't hurt to ask..."

The word's died on an expression on her face, half glad it's his back she's started this on, that raw and more honest than she wants it to be.

Mal doesn't turn to face Marian.

"...Can I get back to you on that?"

"Of course."

It's a gentle tone, even if she felt her stomach sink and tried to tell herself he deserved the time. If he'd just found out, after all, and she'd had weeks.

She'd barely allowed Will to pull her from the water and the Hope that night. And she wouldn't be the one to pull someone else from it.

Especially since it wasn't hers to pull from, but his to go to.

"Take your time."

That one she meant completely.

Mal doesn't reply, and climbs the rope ladder.

Hope and Serenity, Mal lets echo around in his head. A joke if I ever did hear one.

Mal, the Hope, the Interruption.

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