badinlatin | Entries tagged with simon

There's little to no conversation after Mal adjusts course, but everyone had their own corners of the ship to concern themselves with.

Simon's found himself in Shuttle Two -- clinic supplies and organization. Being as prepared as he could possibly be.

If such a thing is possible.

"You're sure we don't need to put down?" Mal asks, not announcing himself before walking into the converted Shuttle Two. Mal hasn't gotten really around to liking the concept of Simon going in the shuttle instead of Serenity.

"Kaylee hasn't mentioned -- "

"That weren't the point." Even with Mal being distinctly less technically proficient than his mechanic, even he knows that the fuel they burned through to get here makes orbiting Lilac a far better prospect than trying to land and break atmo again.

"And you're takin' Kaylee with you." Still matter-of-fact, but a mild tone of surprise.

"I'll need the help."

"Doctorin'."

That's when Simon straightens from his reorganization of an instrument tray, an expression of puzzlement. "It's what needs to be done."

It's a simple answer, direct and (as far as Mal can tell) the whole truth.

Mal offers to help move boxes and rearrange things. It's easier than finding something else to say that could remotely be interpreted as helpful.

When there were no more tools to sterilize, no more gauze to stow, "Let me know if there's anythin' needs doin' before we hit orbit." Simon nods, and Mal starts to head out of the shuttle.

"Doc?"

"Hmmm?"

"My kind o' stupid."

It's been a good long while since Mal and Simon had a conversation.

And if he's conveniently sitting out in the lounge with a knitting project hoping Simon'll pass by -- probably the first time Simon has seen Mal out in public willingly for awhile too -- then that's obviously all in Simon's imagination.

Obviously.

Mal is on the bridge. This is not an unusual occurrance.

What may be a variation on the theme is the small notebook in Mal's lap as he sits on the short flight of stairs directly in front of the screen - the seemingly infinitesimal shield of pyrex and glass - between his ship and the black.

He's writing something or other. He also may or may not notice anyone entering.

Mal is on the bridge. Captainly duties and all requiring it, of course. If by captainly duties you mean flipping on the ~~boob tube~~ Cortex and seeing what the somnambulant public was receiving today.

The plain-looking newscaster Serenity is picking up from god only knows which moon they're passing is relaying some drivel or other before Mal tunes in on the words political candidacy and press conference recorded live today.

Mal sure as ruttin' hell hopes they're not asleep at their chairs at the moment, because finally - finally - there is something on worth watching.

"Doc? Anybody?" Mal calls down the main corridor leading from the bridge. "Gabriel's about to start talkin' front of a lot o' folk, and he looks business."

Mal had been fixing himself some black tea when Simon and Kaylee came up to him, having the distinct air of "We need to tell you something".

The timid smile on Kaylee's face calmed Mal, before a smirk of one crossed Simon's face as well.

Jubal's gone. River did it. Again.

Cough. "Good. One less thorn in our paw." A true grin, and Kaylee and Simon walk off again, probably to go tell someone else.

All alone in the kitchen, tea steeping, Mal lets out a loud "YES! TAKE THAT YOU HUN DAN!" while dancing in as masculine a manner as possible around the table.

He hopes River can hear him, if no one else.

It's been an eventful week or so, thought-wise, for Mal. Lot of things to ponder over, not the least the topics on his list being his conversation with one Gabriel Tam.

This may be why he is heading down the stairs to the lounge and infirmary area, hoping to catch sight of Simon.

Serenity has been away from Southdown for only a few days, and Mal has been more scarce than usual. Not even in Inara's shuttle, where he now sleeps almost every night except for when they're in the middle of a job, but working on...something, on his little desk in his matching little crew bunk.

Late in ship's afternoon, Mal looks to his latest project - two small pieces of notarized paper, obviously worn and showing multiple wax seals on the outside of the paper sheathes - with a final glance of satisfaction. Folding it in an altogether practiced motion, Mal smoothly climbs the ladder out of his bunk, starting to make his rounds through the ship, hoping to catch one or two people in particular.

Mal still has a present to give out.

"Doc? You 'round, anyplace?" Mal calls out into the main rooms of the spacious flat.

Do you blame him? It's not like he's going to go knocking on Kaylee's and Simon's door.

Mal hates sneaking around his own gorram boat. This particular hatred keeps circling around in his brain as he makes his way toward the infirmary.

The two potions Bar gave him were gone by Saturday morning. Saturday night wasn't a picnic. What makes things more interesting is Mal now gets to hear...things; if he ever knew at all who those things belonged to, he's long since forgotten.

In the infirmary, it doesn't take Mal long to find one of Simon's smoothers. For once, Mal mutters a small thank-you for having an anal-retentive medic on board that orders the cabinets with precision.

One vial in his pocket, and the rest go nice and neat back up in the cabinet. The cabinet door closes, and Mal hears someone walking toward the infirmary door.

Mal is in the infirmary. Nothing's wrong, really, just Mal is looking on some of the med-references Simon has collected there. Something about 'hypoglycemia' and palming a small vial in his hand over and over.

He only vaguely hears someone walking toward him.

Mal and Simon have business to attend to. Business he's put off for a bit too long, but that can't be helped now.

Mal walks to Crowley's comm station and dials to the Reynolds ranch.

"What's been takin' you so gorram long, Malcolm?"

"Aren't you in a good mood today, Ma." Mal can't help smiling.

"I was supposed to be meetin' your buyer today, weren't I? Where is he?"

"Right here, Ma." Mal gestures for someone to come into view of the vidfeed.

Mal's comm beeps. Wash is forwarding a wave down to his bunk, and Mal already knows who it was before Wash announced it.

"Wei, Ma."

"How'd you do it so fast?"

"What, Ma?"

"Find a buyer for the ranch; don't talk to me like you don't know what I'm sayin'."

"Ah. Ma, I just did, that's all."

"You ain't tryin' to pull a fast one on me?"

"Would I do that, Ma?" A pause, with a stern look from the woman. "Don't answer."

"I've already received the first half o' the payment...ain't too many folk'd do that without meetin' the seller first. You sure this guy is level?"

"Yes, Ma - stop frettin' about. You'll wear a hole in the floor in the kitchen."

"You'll tell Mr. Matnomis I'll be expectin' his wave then?"

"That I will."

There's a longer pause, filled with more hesitancy toward the subject.

"Heard 'bout Denton. I...I didn't even recognize 'im. In my own house."

Mal's eyes turn downward for a second, saying, "Sorry, Ma. If I could've..."

"Now you did what you had to, Malcolm. Don't ever be apologizin' for that. Just...I'll miss you."

Ma Reynolds waves quickly and shuts off her vidfeed, leaving the screen blank.

Mal heads off to find Simon.

"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.

People everywhere, hawking anything you can imagine. Folk selling Ice Planet(TM), and the folk hired by the Folk Selling Ice Planet(TM) to steal your purse when you ain't payin' attention.

Mal loves space stations.

Mal manages, somehow, to begin weaving a path through the throng of people toward Amnon's post office.