Malcolm Reynolds | Mal Reynolds (myskywastaken) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-12-13 00:25:00 |
|
|||
It hurt to move. Still. A week Mal had spent in the hospital, most of the days spent in a haze of morphine as the doctors had worked to heal him. They were good, almost as good as Simon. The woman -- Gina, her name was -- had been kind enough to provide him with the basics of food before she left him to his own devices. Bread, milk, peanut butter, and flat squares of cheese that tasted nothing like what he remembered. Gina assured him that in a grilled cheese sandwich, they were the best. But she was gone now, back to whatever she was supposed to be doing. He was left to fuss over himself. The computer was an interesting device and looked like what he’d seen on any Core planet he’d ever been to. His introduction to the network complete, he decided on a nap (a rare luxury, to be sure), but before that could happen there were responses. A woman, Kate, married to a man who looked like him but who was apparently rude and sarcastic. (Inara would have laughed if she could see that Kate thought that he, Mal, wasn’t rude and sarcastic, but that thought didn’t bear thinking on.) Another, who seemed suspicious but who knew? Mal moved slowly to get a glass of milk and resumed his seat. He had a sip, but then he wasn’t moving. The glass slipped through his fingers, dumping its contents down his front. And he couldn’t move, only stare forward at the screen, at Kate’s question. What’s a gorram? Panic tickled at the edges of his mind. It was the activity on tower network that alerted Willow to his existence. At first she didn’t know what to make of the little avatar that showed up next to his writing and though there were no biblical verses to follow his introduction…there was too much rage and fear sliding through Willow’s body to really absorb the truth of the situation. All she saw was Caleb, all she heard was The First telling her how suicide was the only way out…using Tara against her. The very thought that something like this could happen, again, here. Everything went red and the techno savvy witch used everything Ms. Calendar had taught her on top of everything she’d learned over the years and bound the poor soul at the other side of the ether connection to his existing spot. It was electrical, and though he probably could see it, there were tendrils of her magic spiraling through the networks to entrap him—and find him. It was so much quicker than trying to figure out where he was manually. There was the briefest of seconds where going to grab Buffy seemed like a great idea, but Willow was no ones sidekick (anymore). She could take care of this, split him down the center, just like Buffy had… In Mal’s room there was already something similar to a small thunderstorm trying to create itself—but as soon as it started the young woman could be seen forming at the center of the misty clouds and vortex of wind. As the mixture vanished Willow stood there, near the end of his bed, large semi glowing red eyes directed their attention to him, his door slammed closed and locked, lights flickered momentarily as Willow regained any lost energies. First thing was first, “Where’s the first, Caleb?” It wouldn’t do very much to kill The First’s lackey and end up with a Hellmouth forming in this land and her not know where the exact location was. She stood there in her black jeans and white button down blouse looking like a normal young woman (except her eyes), but anyone could sense power would know that she wasn’t someone to mess with…especially not with as angry as she seemed, even through the blank expression of her facial features. “I won’t ask nicely again.” She warned. Internally both surprised and happy that her binding spell seemed to be lasting way longer than it had before…maybe she really had gotten stronger after releasing all the could-be-Slayers. Mal could only sit as the thunderstorm grew and then dissipated, and a voice asked its questions. And then, just as suddenly as it had taken hold of him, the binding spell released him, and Mal fell over, crashing onto the floor and (most likely) bruising his ribs again. He hissed in pain, then moaned, wrapping his arms around himself as he struggled to at least be upright. When finally he managed it (only seconds after falling, amazingly), he could only stare. On Jiangyin, River had been accused of being a witch; here was one in the flesh. Mal opened his mouth to speak, but words were not happening, so he tried again, this time giving voice to his shock with a loud “Wha?” He reached for the chair, pushing himself up to stand, bent over. “Who the gorram hell are you? My ruttin’ door is locked!” Willow watched Mal’s movements, her eyes shifting to follow him though neither face nor body moved to follow his actions. The large orbs of red that were her eyes only intensified with an odd vibrating glow when he finally answered. There was the very logical part of her mind that told her this wasn’t right, that this man wasn’t acting as Caleb had…the simple fact that he seemed so fragile, so mortal, told her volumes that he couldn’t verbally fill in. Not only was it incredibly difficult to hurt Caleb, who had smacked Buffy down more than once, he healed incredibly quickly and often seemed as if he didn’t feel physical pain. Willow lifted her chin just a fraction as her face tilted so she could look down her nose towards Mal’s figure. “You’re not him, are you?” The question, of course, in no way answered his question…but it seemed to be the moment that it all clicked for Willow. Her threatening level died down just a little as the pupil of her eyes shrank visibly back to normal size and the red tint was absorbed and fade into a black that gave way to her natural green-hazel tone. “Rutting door, huh?” She cocked her brow and allowed the beginnings of a smirk tug on the left side of her lips before sighing out and shaking her head as if forcing herself from the cloud of energy she’d absorbed and now had nothing to do with. Yeah, he wasn’t Caleb after all…this damn world was going to cause her to kill someone. Not another notch she needed or wanted on her belt, especially not an innocent someone. “Willow,” she finally answered his question as her hands moved to tuck her fingers into her hip pockets just to the first knuckle of the digits. “You look like a very wicked preacher from my world. You, he, killed a lot of innocent people…I wasn’t going to let it happen again.” She took a few cautious steps towards the man leaning over his chair, eyes squinting just a little as she took in his face, “Uncanny, but with so many variants of realities that exist…I guess it makes sense that there are going to be practically identical physical versions of our bodies in other realities…you’re not still evil, are you?” Mal sat down, sighing wearily. It would appear that the danger was over. “No, I’m not him. Whoever this evil preacher-man is.” He pulled in a lungful of air, wincing as he did so. “Caleb, you said? No, I am definitely not him.” He angled a look at her, fully taking her in. She was young, younger than Kaylee, and cute in her own young way. And she could clearly kill a man if she took a notion to do so. Hell of a world, to have one man that looked like him and possibly another that looked like him and was evil. Gave a man pause to wonder what else there was out there. “Mal Reynolds,” he said by way of introduction, and waved her toward a seat. “Well, now, I’ve heard tell of some preachers bein’ all manner of corrupt, but not a one of ‘em were evil. Greedy as hell, sure, but not evil. Might be I haven’t met the right preachers.” Though he really didn’t sound like Caleb it was hard getting over how similar this man, Mal, looked to Caleb. Different realities weren’t new to her, she’d sent Buffy into a different dimension not so long ago in her own timeline. Anya took Giles to a demon dimension, Dawn herself was a key to yet another demon dimension, new dimensions just weren’t hard to wrap her mind around. She understood the concept and existence of other realities very well; that didn’t stop her from second guessing and doing double takes now. Still, Mal didn’t seem hostile so when the seat was offered she quit being rude with her stares and took the seat instead. Leaning over herself just enough so her elbows could lightly be placed against her knees and her hands could clasp loosely in front of her. “He wasn’t so much a real preacher as a vessel for The First, the source of evil in the world. He was a sadistic, misogynistic, demon-loving-bastard...in reality. So, uh, sorry about the...you know...the uh crazy eyes and stormy entrance. I just...when I saw your little avatar, panic. There was panic.” She nodded her head enthusiastically as she sat up a little straighter and slid her hands nervously over her thighs. Power dissipation made her feel less protected and thus nervous, like her normal self. That and maybe she was just this side of embarrassed. “So, then, where are you from?” “Huh. Not much sure I like the idea of my face belonging to that,” Mal admitted, attempting a tiny stretch and stopping to hitch his breath. That hurt. “And, er, I’m not this guy, so don’t you worry none. And if I turn out to be this guy, you have my permission to kill me before I kill you.” He leaned back, gently, gently, and looked down. And saw where the milk had found its home. Immediately he leaned forward in an attempt to hide the milk-stain down his front. “I’m from Serenity. No, that’s my ship. Firefly, I guess it’s called. Girl who showed me around told me, said I was the only one hereabouts from the show.” He gestured towards Willow. “What about you? Where you from?” It wasn’t hard to tell the man before her was hurt, she pursed her lips in thought while Mal tried to make himself comfortable...or do whatever it was he was trying to do. “Never heard of it,” she admitted, “I never really watched television, or read comics or anything. A couple of my friends might know you though,” the words spoken optimistically as if being known to someone else in this world somehow made someone more relevant. She did ignore the whole killing topic though, being ‘allowed’ to kill someone wasn’t exactly a worry anymore. “I’m from Sunnydale, California. It doesn’t exist here, but the “show” is, was, called Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” She even did air quotes and gave a roll of her eyes with the word show. “I guess it was turned into a comic too, I apparently am behind years in my own life, but...hey what can you do, right?” She shrugged a little before canting her head slightly and eventually standing up again. Her right hand moved out towards him as she took a minor step forward and then froze as if he were a frightened animal she didn’t want to startle further, “If you’re really that hurt, I know a few spells...the less hurty kind, I mean.” “Well, I didn’t know that my life was for entertaining folk. Can’t say that it’s made me joyful, either.” Mal raised an eyebrow at her. “Buffy? Ain’t there a girl here named Buffy? Yeah, I was talkin’ to her before you showed up.” He leveled a look that was part teasing, part serious at Willow. “She your friend?” Mal waved Willow away for the moment. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted spells cast on him. Didn’t sound kosher. “No, I’m fine. Had a run-in with a fellow who was trying to kill one of my crew, came out of it with a few bumps and bruises but I’ll be fine. Docs told me I needed to take it easy for a few days.” Talking to Buffy before she got there? Oh, the network. Exactly how she’d seen this guy. “Oh,” she worded verbally towards her internal thoughts. Maybe she should have talked to Buffy before storming into this guy’s life. Her eyes rolled slightly upward, checking in with Buffy...why? She’d been able to handle so much while Buffy was dead and if it hadn’t been for that ‘little hiccup’ of magical proportions she’d have a clean slate of awesome following her. “Yes.” Her brow raised questioningly, “she’s like a sister,” she elaborated and didn’t really know why she was at all. With a shake of her head she moved her hands as if erasing the entire conversation. “Well, I’m glad I don’t have to kill you and if you’re sure you’re okay...I’m going to…” Her hands moved so she could point towards his door over her shoulder while taking a couple of steps backwards. “This has been awkwards and fun and all, but...think I should show myself out. And I’m sorry, again, about the almost killing you and...well, the almost killing you.” “Is she? She seemed pretty decent,” Mal allowed, and let the silence grow between them for several moments. He grinned at her, standing and putting a hand to her shoulder and squeezing it briefly before letting go. “No, it’s fine, you were doin’ what you had to do to protect your own. I surely can’t blame you for that. I would have done the same.” Mal walked with her to the door, opening it. “Don’t be a stranger, all right? I mean it. I think this place is going to be pretty lonely without my…” He sighed. “Without my crew.” It was a little strange having him walk with her towards the door, it wasn’t often that situations that started out so hostile ended on such a good footing...it wa a nice change of pace really. Still, it was an uneasy feeling, like she was still waiting for Caleb to jump out of this man’s mouth somehow and start condemning everything and everyone. “I guess...I mean, okay, no. I mean, I won’t be...you don’t be...don’t be lonely...I mean.” She fumbled over her words in a nervous habit that she’d tried for years to break. Taking a deep breath she sighed out once she was outside of the door and in the hall, facing him she smiled brightly, “It was nice to meet you, even though it wasn’t the best way to meet someone...I’m sure we’ll see each other again. We do live in the same tower.” With that she nodded a little, offered her hand and made a beeline down the hall as quickly as possible without seeming overly rude. Then, what was overly rude after you tried to kill someone? |