wash (threadtheneedle) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2014-08-28 21:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, hoban "wash" washburne, malcolm "mal" reynolds |
Who: Mal Reynolds & Wash
When: Wednesday, August 27
Where: The Ranch, probably in the kitchen or something
What: Mal and Wash have their first real conversation since Wash arrived
Rating: Firefly.
Mal was unsettled, and he didn't like being unsettled. He especially didn't like being unsettled when it came to having his crew around. He had considered them his family for years, and despite the disagreements that inevitably sprung, up he was comfortable with them. He knew what to expect from them, mostly. Things had been okay here in this Earth-that-was, with him and Zoe and Inara, but it felt like they would only get better as and when the rest of his crew showed up. Except, it hadn't. There was a tension brewing, and he didn't like it. Zoe had been... well, she was the Zoe that he knew and trusted, only younger. But she had been -- and still was -- missing that lightness that loving and being married to Wash had given her. Maybe Mal had expected it to change when Wash got there, that she would suddenly remember and a switch would be flipped, but so far... no. And it affected Wash, and with good reason. There was anger there, or frustration, or some other emotion and Mal couldn't find it in him to blame his pilot. This wasn't Serenity, and somehow Wash being here had brought that home more than anything. He was a pilot without a ship to fly, and Mal was a captain without his boat. He'd gathered everyone out here at the ranch, in hopes that truly being together in one place would help to settle his nerves, give them a chance to figure out when everyone had come and to say what needed to be saying. And here they were -- the rest of them off doing whatever it was they wanted to do, and he and Wash. Mal made coffee, still a little unused to the machine used to make it, and the resulting brew was extra strong with a few grounds floating throughout. Well, it was rustic. Also, don't let Mal make coffee. He poured two cups and sat one on the table for Wash before sitting himself at the table and curling his hands around the mug. "You ever get that doc to take a look at you?" -- Wash didn’t mean to be a problem for anyone. He hadn’t meant to be here. None of this was anyone’s fault, not really; he couldn’t blame Zoe for being younger, or Mal for wanting them to stick together despite how strange this all was. He’d been content sticking with the crew, their operation, and he’d never planned to do any different. Zoe would never have considered anything different, even if he had. As for Wash, he loved Serenity, he loved his wife, he cared about the other members of the crew, and he respected Mal’s leadership even if he didn’t always agree with his decisions. But this wasn’t an interpersonal problem, as most of their conflicts were. Well, it was and it wasn’t. Wash could have adjusted to life on Earth-that-Was, or tried, if he’d had Zoe; he would have stuck with the crew and his job as pilot of Serenity even if Zoe had suddenly ended up younger. Losing his ship and his wife… that had cut him loose and set him adrift in an unexpected and unpleasant way. It made it hard to fathom sitting around at the ranch, playing at being a happy crew family. Yet, here he was. And it wasn’t so bad, not really. Being around the others, as long as they weren’t talking about him and Zoe, he could almost pretend things were normal. Even talking to Zoe wasn’t that bad. The only real bothersome thing at the moment was the itch under his skin that always started to drive him crazy when he was in port too long, but the prospect of flying jets in the near future had taken the edge off of that a little bit. He accepted the coffee, sipped it, and then paused, trying to come up with a word to describe the drink that was both complimentary and truthful. “This is… strong,” he said, in a tone that was almost perfectly its normal, playful quality. “Thank you.” Curling his fingers around the cup, he shook his head. “Got some good Earth food in me, and I was fine.” A pause. He felt as though he ought to say he was sorry, he looked a little apologetic, though he didn’t know quite what he wanted to apologize for. Instead, he said, “It’s a nice ranch you got here. Not the same as the ship, but you’ll make out alright.” When he said ‘you’, he really meant, Mal and Zoe. But for once, there was nothing begrudging about it. He was jealous, but it was because Mal and Zoe could go back to being Mal and Zoe, while Zoe and Wash didn’t really exist anymore. -- Mal shrugged, taking a careful sip of his coffee and grimacing. Well, if Wash wanted to continue drinking it he was welcome to it. He didn't push away his mug, but he didn't drink from it again. "Don't know as it's really mine. Name's just on the deed. Pike's done a lot with it, I guess. I just show up from time to time." He angled a look at his pilot, genuinely glad to see him, if at a loss for words. "It's a place to go that ain't a city. Our real work's done carryin' goods to a man in New York. He gets shipments from places like Philadelphia and Boston, Zoe and I just bring 'em in. I say he, but we ain't likely to be workin' for him much longer. Not payin' us the price we agreed to, past couple of times." Again Mal focused on his coffee, turning the mug a few times. "Never pegged you for one who'd work for Feds, even if it did include flyin'." -- “How’s that work?” Wash asked, genuinely curious. Admittedly, Mal didn’t strike him as the ranching type, but he also wasn’t the type to accept another man’s rule over his territory. So maybe they were both a little out of their comfort zones here. Well, they all were, but Wash hadn’t really given much thought to how much the others might be missing, from the big things to the small. “The ranch, I mean. Seems like… if you don’t have your ship, you should have something that’s all yours.” But of course, that wasn’t so simple. He didn’t know how long they’d been here exactly, but money was always an issue. It sounded like as much as things had changed here, that was one thing that had stayed about the same. “Guess you need the money for it first, though.” He paused, looking down at the coffee. It was appealing, in a strange way. Not because he liked it, but because he didn’t. It was the same instinct that drove a man to drink strong alcohol, the kind that burned on the way down, or maybe the instinct that made a silly little boy mix a bunch of disgusting ingredients together in a glass and drink it out of sheer morbid fascination. A mixture of the two in this case, probably. “I’m not the same as you and Zoe, Mal,” he said, after a long pause. “You pick your jobs for the trouble and the money. Me… I’m in it for the ship. It never really mattered too much who I was flying for, until I was on Serenity.” Spreading his hands with open palms, almost in surrender, almost as if he was trying to encompass everything that he couldn’t explain with the gesture instead of with words. “They’re not the Alliance, and they have jets. Probably the best aircraft this world has got to offer. You ever get your hands on a real ship here, you know where to find me.” -- "Seems that I've been here a couple times before, and bought the ranch and started puttin' everything into place, then got snatched back to Serenity. Been told that you and Zoe put some work into it before you went back, and that Pike was always involved, so it sorta went to him I guess. He brought a man called Sully onto it, and that's about where things have stood since. Pike's made some improvements and brought the value up, so he ain't worthless." Telling all of that to Wash, though, brought home that it wasn't all his. He was essentially using the ranch because he could, because his name was on the deed, and it was a convenient place to store goods when they needed to be stored. Although, he tried not to store stuff on the ranch too often. Didn't need to risk bringing the law down on folks that didn't deserve it. Wash mentioned money, and all Mal could do was chuckle for a minute. "Yeah, about that. It would seem that the last we were here we thought long and hard about the future. Not long after we got here, Zoe and I found some stashes hidden in the truck and at various spots over these acres." He grinned, taking an accidental sip of his coffee. "WOW, that's some brew. Money ain't a problem. Not here, at least." Mal listened, keeping his eyes on Wash. In a way, he'd always known this was true about Wash, that flying and Zoe were the real important things to him. So it wasn't really surprising that Wash just wanted a boat to fly. "I just hope they know they're gettin' the best pilot in the 'verse. They don't, I'll have a sit down with 'em." -- “Huh,” was all Wash could think to say to that. It was strange, hearing about things that had happened here. That he had been here and worked on this ranch, and now he didn’t even remember. There was a whole pile of things he couldn’t really comprehend or didn’t want to fully comprehend stuffed into the back of his brain, and he was just trying to deal with each day at a time. It had only been a few days, but to him, being in one place for just a few days was a long time. He felt idle, and he didn’t like it. He’d always gotten restless and stir crazy staying too long in one port, and everything else only seemed to be amping up that reaction, driving him to distraction. He’d joked about selling his soul to the SWORD people, but within the week, he probably would have been driven crazy and desperate enough to do it for real, if it meant getting off the ground and into the sky. The look on Mal’s face when he drank his coffee got a good laugh out of him, and he picked up his own cup, taking a big gulp. “It’s something else,” he agreed, managing not to grimace at the taste. It was growing on him a little bit. “And that’s good. I’m glad we don’t have to worry about money. I’ll put in whatever the feds pay me, too.” The job might take him away from them at times-- and that was good, a little bit of separation would be good for his sanity, as opposed to sitting around worrying about them while they did whatever it is they were doing-- and maybe that would be a lot of the time, but he didn’t want to stop being part of the crew. The way Mal ran his crew was different from every other captain he’d flown under; he was holding them all together even when they weren’t sharing a ship. Even without the tie to Zoe being as strong as it had been, Wash still wanted to stay close to them all. He gave a slight grin, jokingly returning the sentiment. “If you want me to talk to that man you’re delivering for, I’m sure I could come up with a few choice words to scare him into paying you a fair wage.” -- Mal nodded, accepting that Wash contributing to funds as just, so long as Wash kept a portion for his own use. He was earning it, after all. He said as much, naming a modest figure that would leave the bulk of each paycheck in Wash's hands. He added, "You get any leads that might be useful to us, pass 'em along. Especially if they start goin' in the direction of the Alliance. That becomes the case, you'll want time enough to get out of it." The coffee was gǒu shǐ, and Mal could only watch in amazement as Wash drank more -- willingly. Shaking his head in wonderment, Mal stood to empty his mug into the sink. He wasn't, however, above leaving the coffee still in the carafe, there to curl the chest hairs of whoever next tried it. "Let me show you the operation we got goin' on here. Might maybe even stop in to see the horses and make sure that River ain't scared 'em away. Or got trampled her own self." -- “That reminds me,” Wash said. “I met a guy. Han Solo, said he was in the business of ‘avoiding trouble’. Told him I’d see if you were interested in being introduced.” He nodded in agreement to the rest of it. “If I hear any unification talk, you’ll be the first to know.” A little masochism in the form of drinking some of the coffee was enough for him. When Mal got to his feet, Wash pushed back his chair and got to his feet, following his captain’s lead in dumping the rest of the drink. “Sure, captain. Give me the grand tour.” -- Mal raised his eyebrows. Really, anyone who described themselves like that would at the least be worth talking to. "Sure, I'll meet him. The more the merrier. Jayne isn't here, so if it comes to it, another body could come up useful." And really, another gun hand wouldn't go amiss on some of these capers. The folk they were meeting were getting rougher and rougher. He clapped Wash on the shoulder, turning him to look out the window. "That's a field, with a lake." That bit of obviousness out of the way, he gestured toward the door. He could hear the others, outside chattering like magpies. It was a good sound, familiar and comfortable, like an old quilt. "Let's go see the place." |