That's the way it's always been.
It all comes down to creating time.
We don't always have to make it right. We'll all drive by in our hybrid lives. Chances are... chances are...
We'll make it back.
- Sheryl Crow.
He stared at the white, clinical walls with a mixture of longing, regret and something he could only define as overwhelming relief. With the situation as it stood now, Mal had made a decision that had surprised everyone. Everyone, perhaps, except Simon. If Mal hadn't come to the decision himself, Simon most likely would have insisted on it.
So Simon sat on the medical gurney and let the doctor prod and poke his healing abdomen, his long healed thigh wound, attach the necessary machines and listen to his heart and blood pressure, let her take blood from his arm.
They'd headed straight for Kerry, a little orange planet far away from anything resembling a core world or Alliance territory. Rumor had it they were running a med clinic. All of them could get checked out and properly screened for free and without any identification or paperwork changing hands. Mal had sneeringly called it charity work, in a tone that suggested what the rich, core doctors could do with their charity, but hadn't actually said anything, because they really did serve a purpose.
He'd been wrong, the doctors didn't think of it as charity work at all, but Simon hadn't seen any reason to tell Mal, or the others, that the border planet runs that were mandatory for all new interns were known as FWOT runs. Fucking Waste Of Time. It was a joke among them all. Riding in brand new, Alliance grade space ships out to some godforsaken planet where the locals didn't have the rudimentary knowledge on how to make a bar of soap, let alone use it.
Nobody had been under any false beliefs about leaving their little stopover planet, having given strict orders for the people to keep their wounds clean, or get medicine for the two year old who could barely breathe, or even, god forbid, wash their hands a little more. Nobody was under any pretense that their completely obvious orders would be followed. Before they'd even break atmo, they knew they'd been forgotten and dismissed.
The doctor poked the red, inflamed area of his wound again and sucked air through her teeth in disapproval.
"This is what you get all the way out here." She turned to another, younger doctor behind her. Simon guessed he was very brand new in the medical field. He looked nervous. "The weaving is barely adequate, this is going to leave horrific scarring."
Simon didn't say anything. He knew Zoe wasn't a trained doctor, but she was more than capable of removing bullets and stitching up holes in him that had a tendency to make him pass out. He knew this doctor was thinking about fine, delicate pull throughs of fine, delicate weaves, done in a practiced manner. With shining, hygienic tools, handed to her by someone with shining, hygienic hands.
The doctor sighed.
"Did this hack of a doctor even give you some form of anti inflammatory or antibiotic for this?" She paused and dumbed it down for him. "Any tablets of any kind?"
Simon just shook his head helplessly. He knew it wouldn't matter, wouldn't matter because this woman had no idea what it was like, nor would she care. It didn't matter to her that, out here, sometimes the only money these people had was swallowed up by a desperate need to eat, not put aside for medicines that were only a 'precaution'. It didn't matter to her that these people thought more in terms of what would keep them alive than what would keep them pretty. It didn't matter to her that there was a desperateness out here that she would likely never know.
Simon knew it didn't matter to her, because it hadn't mattered to him, either. He'd been there, he'd curled his lip in distaste at the dirty, unwashed bodies that had come through the clinic, had groaned in frustration at the repeated sight of wounds improperly healed, at the constant reminder that things would be so much easier if these people just read a book once in their lives and learned proper hygiene procedures and took the right medication and followed the right treatment schedules.
That was, of course, before he'd become one of the great unlearned, before he'd ridden on a space ship that was now more home to him than anywhere he'd ever really known. Before the sight of fresh produce was enough to make his salivary glands go into overdrive, before the thought of staying and keeping alive had become more important than what clothes to wear to the Stinton party on a Saturday night.
Before he'd learned to value the ability to make a person smile when they most needed it just as highly as years in tertiary education, to value speed and accuracy as much as technical knowledge, loyalty as much as breeding, the choice of creating a family over those that were thrown together.
Simon stared at the white, clinical walls with a mixture of longing, regret and something he could only define as overwhelming relief.
She pressed the softness of it into the worn and weathered grooves of solidity and was surprised by the complete lack of contrast, it was almost like they were made for each other. Inara knew different, however, she could remember the last time, officially the first time, she'd hung the drapes and wall hangings and sheets over the crude metal walls of the shuttle.
It had taken her so much longer back then, but now she kenw where everything was supposed to go. There were five whole trunks full of nothing but silk and satin, screens of utmost delicacy and beauty. Each of them had a designated place, she hadn't been off Serenity long enough to forget where they all go.
"I know I've seen 'em all before, Inara, but wow, look at all the pretties!"
Inara smiled as Kaylee gushed over the materials. She thought back to the Companion House and how five trunks of cloth were nothing to blink at, except to wonder why there wasn't more. How Sheydra had lifted her brow, but covered the surprise the very instant later, when she hadn't brought more things aboard.
Fine cloth that, in the Training House, would have been hung decoratively over already plush, lined walls that were so dense with luxury it was almost too hard to breath. Here, it was laid over stark metal walls, providing a very thin veneer.
"Speaking of pretty," Inara unfolded a piece of cloth that she'd been keeping aside. "I did bring you back a present, mei mei."
She watched eagerly as Kaylee's eyes widened when she saw the dress, watched as Kaylee reached out hesitantly, touching the material with a reverence that seemed almost obscene for nothing more than a piece of clothing. Inara did not tell her that it had been cast off, once belonging to a girl who had disregarded it as easily as the peelings of an apple. Something she knew, also, that Kaylee would have appreciated.
Inara thought about the young faces that had surrounded her during the short time she'd spent at the Training House, about how you can train people to respect, tend and care for themselves, for their belongings, for other people, but you cannot teach this level of love, this pure organic appreciation for the small things.
"It's real pretty, Inara, honest, but..." Kaylee bit her lip as her cheeks flooded with red. "I got nothin' to give you."
"I don't need anything, you know that, but if you find yourself overcome with guilt for no reason, you could always spend some time fine tuning my shuttle." There was nothing, as far as she knew, wrong with the workings of her shuttle, but Inara knew Kaylee hated being in debt, even an imagined debt like this one. She also knew that Kaylee understood, even if there was nothing wrong with a machine, it still needed a personal touch every now and again. "In the meantime, maybe you can wear that one night to impress a certain doctor?"
They shared a smile, secretive and knowing. A weak moment of overt girlishness and camaraderie that was usually discouraged at the Training House. Companions are creatures of availability to the right people, and only the right people. They do not perpetuate any fallacies, however weak and unsubstantiated, of sharing trade secrets with each other or having a closeness with another person that supercedes the relationship she has with her present client.
Most likely, Inara mused with a smile, to avoid said person rushing through said client with a sword.
"I gotta go try this on!" Kaylee leaned over and hugged Inara tightly. "Thanks so much for this! I mean... if you can spare me? I'll come back and help later, I promise."
"You go." Inara said as she gestured her out of the shuttle. "I'm fairly sure I can finish here on my own."
Inara turned back to hanging a screen over the dingy metal of the shuttle. It was strange, she thought, to compare the two times she'd done it. That first time, a little over a year before, she'd used all her finery to cover and hide the obvious ugliness and shoddiness of the materials. Now, now it seemed like the two belonged together, not so much a contrast, but a joining that enhanced both the material and the metal.
"I interrupting anything, am I?" She turned to see Mal stride into the shuttle and take a look around. "You puttin' all these fineries back up for a reason?"
Inara breathed in and tried to think of something to say and how to say it.
"You're still gonna be entertainin' clients then?"
She looked him in the eye.
"Is that going to be a problem?"
Mal's whole face tightened and his eye twitched a little. Inara could feel it in the clench of her stomach. She waited for him to use the 'w' word that would make her instantly regret her decision to stay.
"I reckon so." He answered, then paused. "But I also reckon it's my problem to deal with. You're a companion and I can't change that any more'n you can change the petty thief in me."
She watched him walk straight up to her and hold out his hand. She watched her own hand reach out to take his.
"It's about time for dinner, you ready to join us, Miss Serra?"
Inara pressed the softness of it into the worn and weathered grooves of solidity and was surprised by the complete lack of contrast, it was almost like they were made for each other.
It was almost midnight and she could feel her eyes droop heavy, there was so much to do before Serenity was running at top form again, the engine hummed and whirred around her, pulsing in the near darkness, she picked up the wrench and weighed the shining metal in her hand, she'd been just about ready to close the lid on her tool box when she'd been called out of her reverie.
Kaylee looked up at the hammock hanging in the corner of her engine room and thought about all the times she'd worked here so late into the night that she'd ended up just falling asleep right here and never even made it to her bunk. No one had really noticed or particularly cared, as far as she'd figured, past the looks she'd get at breakfast when she'd turn up in the same clothes as the day before, looking all rumpled and not quite right. Inara and Zoe would wear that same expression of mild concern and Mal, probably the only one of them that cared about Serenity as much as she did, would nod at her in sympathy, but they hadn't really said anything about it.
It was nice, in ways she'd always kind of ached for but never really understood, to have someone that would notice, that would come looking to find her if she didn't eventually drag her sorry carcass to her bunk and get some real rest. Nice, even, to have to ignore her ship in ways previously unforgivable to her so that she could make Simon smile, so that Simon could make her smile. And they both did it so well.
The nicest part, Kaylee knew it, was that she finally understood her role in the crew more than she ever had before, maybe more than anyone on the ship besides River.
It hadn't been easy, in no way would she call the weeks that had followed easy, because she could remember the heavy silences, the fear of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, the watchfulness they all had. The guilt that they were here and Book and Wash weren't. The absolute horror of the futility and uselessness of their deaths, of all the deaths that had happened.
Eventually, though, because not even death could stop the life left behind, there had been times when something would spark someone's interest and they'd laughed or smiled. Kaylee could remember the stone silence that would happen when Zoe would walk into the room.
Then, one day, as she and Simon had been sharing laughter over something that Kaylee couldn't even remember now, Zoe and Mal had walked in. They'd both stopped suddenly, guiltily, but Kaylee had caught it in Zoe's eyes, a deep and desperate hunger.
The next time she'd laughed, she'd caught Zoe's eyes and hadn't stopped. She'd reached out and grabbed Zoe's hand and brought the woman, usually so protective and hard turned all supple and complying, over to look at the strange conglomeration of food Simon had tried to present. Zoe hadn't laughed, but there was a glint in her eye and a reluctant twitch at the corner of her mouth. A promise for a future much needed.
Kaylee had realized then why they all rallied around her, that when Mal had voiced his concern about her even picking up a gun he hadn't been babying her because he thought she couldn't handle it, but because he'd been afraid she could. That when Jayne needled her about bein' a girl and made comments about how damned sunny and shiny she was, it was mostly 'cause he wanted to keep her that way and wasn't able to say it like that.
She was Serenity's good mood and even if that responsibility was very heavy right now, Kaylee planned to live up to it.
"You're not going to stay in here all night, are you?"
She looked up at Simon and grinned as he poked his head around the door. It was awfully nice to know that someone was waiting for her, that even if she did stay here for hours, she could crawl into bed and press up against his warm body. Sometimes he didn't even wake up, just moved around a bit to accommodate her, stretching his arm under her head and bringing it around to hold her against him. It made her warm to think about it.
"Just gotta finish putting these tools away." She gave him a wink and he grinned at her in that evil, evil way that meant she better hurry or she'd pay for it. "You just go make the bed warm for me, 'kay?"
It was almost midnight and Kaylee could feel her eyes droop heavy, there was so much to do before Serenity was running at top form again, the engine hummed and whirred around her, pulsing in the near darkness, she picked up the wrench and weighed the shining metal in her hand, she'd been just about ready to close the lid on her tool box when she'd been called out of her reverie.
He'd been doin' some thinking and no one knows more'n he does how dangerous a pastime that is for him, but things had changed and even he can feel it, so he sat and sharpened the blade and suspected that she knew, even in her slowly healing but still batshit crazy mind, that he's sharpening it for her, hell, they probably all knew, but ain't no one gonna say anything if they know what's good for 'em.
Jayne held no false and fancy ideas about who he was. He don't hold many things close, man like him can't afford to, it's a hand-to-mouth, hand-to-gun, or hand-to-grave-digging-shovel 'verse out there. He does what he needs to get by, it's something he keeps telling himself over and over again, just what's strictly needed.
Don't mean nothin' that he stood up in the fight against those reavers, that he helped bring the almighty Alliance down a peg or two. He was only doin' it, 'cause Serenity is the finest gig he's ever had and only a fool would risk losin' it. They get regular pay, well, regular enough that he can eat decent most of the times, they get treated more'n fair and he has fun sometimes along the way. There ain't nothin' more a man needs.
He's fair on sure it started way back with Kaylee, when she got shot and he couldn't take his eyes off the operation, and only got worse when he, River and the doc were nabbed by those fed he'd tipped off in Ariel and he couldn't get the girl's face outta his head, mouth all stretched in terror like that. It weren't right.
A man like Jayne gets shot at and faces death near on every day, that's his choice, he chooses the life and he got no right to complain about it. But that kid never asked to be cut on like the doc said she was, and Kaylee never asked to be shot at, nor held at gun point by some dick who's scared of dyin' or threatened with rape by some hundan.
All it did, Jayne knew, all it did was make him want to stick around and make sure they didn't get their asses into any more trouble. It started with them and Jayne just couldn't tell when it slipped into something almost like worry when he saw how bad Zoe was hurtin' and how bad he missed Wash and his sarcastic jokes or Book an' his eerie ass knowledge of things ain't no preacher ever knowed before.
He refused to say the word family, absolutely refused.
"Don't need to say it."
Jayne jumped about a mile and the knife he'd been holding slid clean through the pad of his thumb.
"Gorram it, girl." He hissed as he sucked the coppery blood. "Don't you come near me when I got knives. You hear?"
Damn if she ain't smilin' at him.
"Don't scare me."
It was like a challenge and he could see the glow in her eyes, she was enjoyin' it.
"What're you doin' sneakin' up on me, anyways, ain't the doc rantin' and ragin' about somethin' else Mal wants to take you on?"
"Can't go in my feet. Not even Mal will let me go without shoes."
Jayne looked at her for a full minute before he spelled it out slowly.
"So put on yer gorram boots, fool."
She sighed and hefted the said boots onto the bench.
"Tried and tied and tried again. Can't undo them. They won't budge."
He eyed the godawful knot in the laces and tried to figure out just how out of her mind she had to be to do that to some perfectly innocent boots. Weren't nothin' but one solution to a bind like that.
"You have to cut 'em."
She nodded sagely.
"Leather laces. No ordinary knives will do."
River smiled at him and then floated away to join Simon and Kaylee across the cargo bay and left Jayne starin' at some abandoned footwear. He'd be damned if he was just gonna play lackey and do her biddin' 'cause she asked, well, near on asked.
He sighed and let his eye slide down the blade in his hand.
Jayne'd been doin' some thinking and no one knows more'n he does how dangerous a pastime that is for him, but things had changed and even he can feel it, so he sat and sharpened the blade and suspected that she knew, even in her slowly healing but still batshit crazy mind, that he's sharpening it for her, hell, they probably all knew, but ain't no one gonna say anything if they know what's good for 'em.
Superstition is an ugly word when you're responsible for peoples' lives, he knew it, yet he'd never been able to shake the belief that there was a balance and the good times were always paid for with bad, but he had never questioned himself as to who paid and who gained and whether it was worth it in the end.
He barely needed to ask, he knew she would say yes and he knew that as soon as he started making it, Inara would smile to herself, walk up next to him and gently take over. He knew that she knew it, too.
Sometimes her hand would linger on his arm or shoulder and sometimes he would brush her finger when he took the cup she offered and sometimes, just sometimes, it would make them both jittery and breathless.
"Are we still on course to land at eleven?"
"Far as I know." He shrugged and sat down at the table. "I haven't been told otherwise."
Their words, sparse as they were, stopped for a while as Mal's finger traced the pattern of the wood on the table. There were little things he tried not to see, like the fact that they no longer needed that extra stool to fit people at the table when they ate. That the chair next to Zoe was always left empty and the chairs next to Kaylee, Simon, Inara and himself never were. That Jayne sometimes lifted weights alone and with a viciousness that was almost foolhardy.
He didn't ask her what she had to do on Aberdeen and she didn't offer, but the knowledge of it hung heavy between them, waiting.
"Morning, Sir, Inara."
He looked up to see Zoe in the doorway and, before he could stop himself, his eyes scanned her up and down, he wasn't sure what he was looking for, just that he couldn't stop himself checking for it. A weakness, a sign that she wasn't coping as well as she'd like everyone to believe.
When he got to her eyes, she didn't look away, her brows raised slightly and he knew that she was getting very close to annoyed with his overt concern. And it was only going to get worse.
"Jayne and Simon are coming on the job today." He saw her pause on the way to the food nooks, a moment to gather herself and curb whatever she was going to say. "You're staying with the ship."
"If you think that's necessary, Sir." Her cup was placed on the bench with a sharp force that made him wince.
"It's a dangerous job." He tried to explain. "I don't want you out there right now."
"Of course." Zoe sipped her tea.
Fact of the matter was, he had to think about his crew, all of them. It was a dangerous job and if anything happened he wouldn't be able to handle the guilt of it, not on top of the guilt he already had. They'd lost two of their crew, he wasn't about to betray their memory by losing the possibility of another.
Kaylee and Simon chose that moment to bound into the kitchen and suddenly it seemed full, the shadowed corners that threatened to implode when it had just been the three of them.
"Hey Zoe." Kaylee smiled and Mal thought he saw Zoe smile back. "How're you feeling today?"
Mal wondered how she did it, how she was able to mother Zoe so blatantly and not get on the woman's bad side.
"I'm keeping down the tea." Zoe said. "It's an improvement on yesterday."
He watched Kaylee and Simon share a glance and saw something in it that terrified him. It was inevitable, impossible to even think of fighting it, that Kaylee would hover over Zoe right now, that she would cluck and fuss. He just hoped she wasn't getting any ideas.
Prayed, as a matter of fact, with the same vim and vigor he used to thank whatever deity for Zoe's health, for the possibility of laughter again, with the kind of faith he hadn't allowed himself in a long, long time.
A smile edged the corners of Inara's mouth and he knew that she understood what he was thinking. Woman had always gotten under his skin like that, the only difference was that he didn't mind it quite so much anymore.
Superstition is an ugly word when you're responsible for peoples' lives, Mal knew it, yet he'd never been able to shake the belief that there was a balance and the good times were always paid for with bad, but he had never questioned himself as to who paid and who gained and whether it was worth it in the end.
It was like living underwater, drifting through the throbbing pulse and eddy of it, she let herself bend with the flow and didn't question it, didn't explain it to anyone, even if they asked, because some things weren't meant to be told.
Her feet held the weight of her body, River pressed them into the metal of the ship, letting the steel grating force lines into her flesh as she walked. The balance of her body was held somewhere deep in her belly, the center of her, the midpoint of her hips, the place where she could breathe in and tighten everything to a point. Make it all so small she couldn't be seen.
Her brain, everyone had said it in one way or another, even if it wasn't out loud, held the horror of her.
She knew different, but she didn't elaborate, her brain held the horror of everyone else. She didn't tell them this, because she didn't want them to know, to ask about it, to crave answers she couldn't give them.
They all tried, even if they didn't want to, she could feel it trickle over her like eggs cracked over her skull, slimy and slick. A small hint, or a glance, a hidden look, they wanted to know what she saw, what she has seen, what has seen her.
And maybe, if she closed her eyes and wished real hard, maybe the one person who deserved and needed it most of all wouldn't ask her. She'd never been that lucky.
Zoe sat in the pilot's chair, already eaten up by her memories, torturing and soothing herself all at once by touching the plastic toys. River understood it, knew the feeling well, like pressing a wound that's trying to heal, wanting it to ache that little bit more.
Sometimes she couldn't let go of it, the memory of struggling to breathe, to fight through the light and sound and color and those voices, the Universe pressing into her, stealing every bit of her that she could spare and some she couldn't. Pain that made her want to scream until she wished she could stop screaming.
Sometimes it was like a dream, like it happened to someone else, someone else whose throat bled from the very agony of it.
She almost wanted Zoe to look at her, pierce her through with those dark eyes, and demand to know whether she knew it would happen, if she saw it happen before it really did, because it was a question she could answer. No, she doesn't see the will happen of things, she sees the has happened and the is happening, she sees what other people see. This is something she could have said. It's the question that Zoe does ask, so often inside her head and this time out loud, that River dreaded.
"Did you hear him when it happened, what was going through his head?"
River didn't know how to answer this, not then and not now, how to say the words so they won't hurt. No and yes all at the same time. She heard everything, it's not like she can filter anything when it's loud and vibrant, when peoples' emotions and thoughts are running so rampant they can't control it themselves.
She felt the elation of his flying, the fear of Jayne being thrown about the ship, the triumph of Mal getting through the Alliance, Kaylee crying out loud with the crash and screech of metal, the sudden scream of Zoe's head when she saw what had happened, a blankness that might have been Wash's last coherent thought or just the space it left behind, Mal's horror. It was all a jumble and none of it the pretty images Zoe wanted.
Zoe didn't want to hear about the hole River saw spreading through her chest, at the same height that killed Wash, malignant and oozing. Or the red that splashed through the name of her husband when it came from her own lips.
The sad way that Zoe smiled was enough for River to know she hadn't quite fallen for the answer, even without the waves that came from her.
A plastic tree tumbled end over end in Zoe's hands. River watched it, let herself fall into the movement of it and tried to close her ears to the question that followed. It was unavoidable, she knew Zoe was going to ask and she knew a million ways to answer her to make her happy, most of them the truth, but that wasn't how it worked.
It never was.
"Can you feel it now? Will everything be okay?"
She felt the plea in Zoe's voice before she heard it, the desperate need to know, to stop the hope that had already begun to sprout if there was no need for it, the hope that would close the gaping invisible hole. Zoe's hands stopped twirling the tree and sat it on the curve of her abdomen, planted it there and trembled.
It was like living underwater, drifting through the throbbing pulse and eddy of it, River let herself bend with the flow and didn't question it, didn't explain it to anyone, even if they asked, because some things weren't meant to be told.
She missed the feel of leather bound around her neck, the air that caressed the skin there felt like loss all over again, like a tease of memory that made her ache, she was tired of missing him.
Zoe sat on the bed, the empty bed, and stared at the walls of their bunk, their empty bunk. Now hers and hers alone. Her lonely sanctuary. An escape from the watchful eyes of those around her.
They meant well and she knew it, understood it and was grateful that she had so many people in her life that cared so much, but it was tiring, overwhelming sometimes, to play her part in it.
It wasn't as if she hadn't seen loss and bloodshed before, hell, she and Mal had lived it during the war, had cut their adult teeth on it. She knew and understood the platitudes of these situations, a hero's death, fighting for a cause, had spoken them before and would no doubt speak them again. She even realized they were right.
Anger and denial were never part of her feelings over Wash's death, it was more of a numb acceptance. It had happened and she had to move on. The truth was that Wash knew the risks of the job, his life had been in danger everyday since he'd stepped foot on Serenity and he'd signed on the proverbial dotted line. A good majority of their arguments had revolved around the very theme of mortal danger that they were both in.
In some deep part of her thoughts she was barely ready to acknowledge, let alone examine, Zoe knew she had been selfish. Selfish in that she had always assumed she would be the one to go first, that she wouldn't be the one left behind to clean up the mess and deal with the hard fact of grieving.
Her penance to this cause was to go on breathing, to get up everyday and try to eat, to watch everyone on the ship learn to live again, to slowly say goodbye to a part of herself she never wanted to. Some days were easier than others and Zoe found herself hungry for the sound of living again, for the thrum of life that didn't stop beating.
There was one thing she would not do and that was to give in, because he had always loved her strength, had marveled in it just as she had loved the purity of him, the delight he brought to her world. So she stayed strong, because that was how he'd liked her best.
Strong and upright, she refused to bend and her hands deftly worked at the string of leather, smoothing it, warming it with her fingers until it was supple and yielding in her grasp. There wasn't much to spare aboard Serenity, but she was working on getting a new stone, a new symbol. She knew the others would chip in if she asked them and probably even if she didn't.
The wedding band she'd had wrapped around her neck for too short a time had stayed back on his grave, a place she knew she'd rarely visit, because she didn't need a rock to remember her husband.
The bond she wanted to wind around her neck this time went deeper than the words husband and wife, it ran all the way through their blood, wound them together in ways that were so beautiful she didn't have the words to describe it.
It moved her, moved inside a place she'd thought so empty. This was why she had to move on and stay strong.
Zoe missed the feel of leather bound around her neck, the air that caressed the skin there felt like loss all over again, like a tease of memory that made her ache, she was tired of missing him.
Title: Hybrid Lives
Author: Jacqui [website]
Details: Standalone | G | gen | 31k | 10/15/05
Characters: Malcolm, Zoe, Kaylee, Inara, Jayne, Simon, River
Pairings: Simon/Kaylee, hints of Mal/Inara
Summary: A series of vignettes examining each of the crew after the events of "Serenity".
Notes: Spoilers for the BDM.