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badinlatin) wrote2005-09-28 10:09 pm
Mal-Faith dream.
[ooc: Quoted from here from myself and John for angsty purposes.]
Mal doesn't like the folk that just passed by, but his eyes connect instead with the student, blurting out:
"C'mon now - wanna get somewhere safe---"
...the corridor River and his fellows disappeared down explodes and he's engulfed in flames.
Mal is mostly protected, having two walls and some empty space between him and the source of the explosion, but the power conduits running through the wall to his left erupt.
that skiff is shredding us
we're gonna die
we can't die
those are our angels
Mal screams, falling over onto the grating of the now-hot corridor.
Below his ribcage on his right side, among other things, is a rather large piece of shrapnel from the cover of a junction box on the wall.
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Dressed in skintight leather, guns on her hips, a sword on her back, her arms folded over her chest.
"One job. You get one little job, and you can't manage it. Have to be rescued by a girl."
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The little student is gone. The emptiness of the corridors make Mal even more afraid. Also? Not so much with the being able to move.
A long moment before he turns his head to see Faith from the ground up. Even manages to get his arms under him and attempt something like a push up before collapsing again.
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But this isn't usual, and this time the force sends him flying.
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He feels the kick, well - more like an anvil jammed into his side. Then, the flying sensation. Then, at last, solidly landing into the emergency bulkhead, shoving the shrapnel deeper into an area that probably contains some sort of vital organ or other that Mal would hope to have later.
The stars... No. Just spots on his eyes from the busted capillaries from the landing. But now he can't even make out Faith too well.
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She's beside him, a second later, faster than even a Slayer could usually travel.
"So much easier when I didn't care."
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That Slayer's boot just hit him in the...in the FACE!
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Wonder why it didn't.
Mal does make it to his hands and knees finally, using the back of one hand to wipe the blood from his mouth.
"Why," he starts rasping at her, "Why are you--"
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"Why? You're asking me why?"
She grabs his collar and hauls him up against the wall.
Her eyes are yellow.
"No friends," she snarls. "Just the kill. The screams. The hunt. Death is all I am."
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Not too much longer now.
"Don't kill me. Please."
I'm dying anyway.
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Faith pulls one of her guns, studying it for a second, and then throws it, as hard as she can, into the wall.
Through the wall.
Making a really big hole straight through to the stars.
"I think I'll let space do that."
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The colors of the corridor - steel gray and matte blue and black and scorch marks - bleed together like spilled paint.
But Faith stays still. Cogent. Together. Terrifying with her yellow eyes.
Mal's screams get cut off as one...two...three fingers lose their grip on the edge of the bulkhead before going into space.
Four...
Five.
Mal writhes in his bunk, sweating, not occurring to him until much later that he had completely stripped the bed in his sleep. His back is on fire; he stands as soon as he thinks he won't fall down to go to the mirror and look at his back.
Intact. Whole. Still scarred.
Mal stares at his bunk with disdain and fear. His mind darts to Shuttle One, where he hasn't slept for the past week. He hasn't told Inara why. She can never know.
I am too weak.