Ficlet: Just a Boat (Firefly, PG, 650 words)

[peroxidepirate]

Title: Just a Boat
Rating: PG
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity (post-BDM)
Disclaimer: Just playing, no profit. I don't own these characters, this universe, or anything else of value.
Characters: Simon/Mal, also Jayne/Kaylee
Summary: 600 words, from Simon's POV: three times, Serenity has turned his life inside out.

 

Three times, the firefly Serenity has turned Simon Tam's life inside out.

Once: the ship and its crew altered – or, more precisely, destroyed – Simon's plan to hide with his sister on a backwater rim planet, in total anonymity, where the long arm of the Alliance could never reach.


Simon lies awake in his cabin, listening to the sounds of River sleeping fitfully on the other side of the flimsy partition. He thinks about how glad he is that Malcolm Reynolds and Zoe Allyene Washburne and their guns are between River and the Alliance. Even if it means Jayne Cobb and his guns are out there, too.

“Simon?” River calls, with a note of panic in her voice.

“It's ok,” Simon answers. “I'm here.”

 
 

 

Twice: Serenity took them past the edge of civilization, into Reaver territory, to Miranda. And back.

 

Simon dozes, between sleep and wakefulness, in a tiny crewmember's bunk. Kaylee is curled up, warm and soft, in his arms. He thinks about how the trip to Miranda exorcised the worst of River's demons, led him to say the things Kaylee had spent so long wanting to hear, brought them to this.

 

He tries not to think about other things. The way having Kaylee has not made everything better. The possibility that she loves the ship itself more than anything, or anyone, else. The sickly jealous feeling that comes over him with the knowledge that River, learning to pilot, spends so much time with Mal.

 

“Simon?” Kaylee murmers. “What'chya thinkin?'”

 

“I'm glad we survived,” Simon answers. It's the truth. Just not the whole truth.

 

 

 

Three times: just weeks ago, the boat ceased to be – even marginally – spaceworthy. “Love keeps her in the air,” Mal said, more than once. But sometimes, love alone isn't enough.

 

The night they laid Serenity to rest, Zoe and River only had eyes for the new ship. Mal, Jayne, and Inara kept their faces carefully blank, and Kaylee couldn't stop crying.

 

To Simon, always, it was just a boat.

 
 

He wakes up with his face against the mattress, weight pressed behind him and breathing loud in his ear.

 

He thinks about the new ship. The crew. Inara, content with a long-range shuttle and a new level of autonomy. Zoe and River, in their cabins behind the bridge. Kaylee and Jayne, in their bunks – unless, by this time, it's their bunk – next to the engine room.

 

The captain's cabin, the larger of two rooms beside the infirmary. The smaller of those rooms, which has barely been used.

 

Mal's arm wraps around his waist, fingers running over bare skin, and Simon shudders. His touch is less surprising, but no less powerful, than the first night.

 

He tries not to wonder if this is going to work. If it's just an accident of architecture. If Mal might not be more like Kaylee and Jayne, after all.

 

“Mal?” Simon says into the quiet room. “Do you miss it? Serenity?”

 

Mal tenses, arm tightening around Simon. Her, not it, he always said. Finally he answers, mouth hot beside Simon's ear. “It was just a boat.”

 

Simon slides onto his back, and Mal's lips find his in the dark.

 

Later, half asleep, Simon thinks about that. About River, so serious in her new role as official pilot. About Kaylee, and the way they entirely don't miss each other's touch. About how losing a ship has changed everything. And always, always, about Mal.

 

For the first time, he thinks maybe Mal was right all along: maybe it -- she -- Serenity was a real thing. A protective force. More than just a boat.