trans_9 | The scars will stay forever / Side to side with death

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The scars will stay forever / Side to side with death

Gunshot wounds and scars were nothing to Mal Reynolds. Years of being involved in wars had shown him countless people who'd been injured or killed, himself included. Except he'd never died, even though the times he'd gotten hurt were too numerous to count.

But this latest addition to his collection of scars felt different, and he didn't like the way it made him feel. There was nothing in the verse that could explain how an injury in a dream could still be there when he woke up. The ridiculousness of the whole thing nagged at Mal, to the point that he couldn't sleep for thinking about it.

So that was why he was awake well past midnight, walking along the same hall where he'd been shot. There was nothing left there to suggest that anything had happened; no blood stains on the floor or the walls, and definitely no sign of a battlefield or Tracey, who he knew to be dead. Except he'd definitely been there in that dream, so what did that mean? Was he a ghost?

Mal laughed sardonically. Ghosts didn't exist. But still, there was no explanation for what happened, and that, above everything else, made Mal very unhappy and very frustrated.

He kept walking, back and forth, down that long stretch of a hallway, ignoring the exhaustion that was beginning to creep up on him. Even though there was nothing to see, Mal was determined to keep walking until he either found out what was going on, or until he collapsed from sheer stubbornness and the need to do something besides sit around and ask pointless questions.

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There was somebody else there.

He shouldn’t have been walking around. His injuries were not severe, but there had been enough blood lost to make the ASIS drug him for a few hours, just to keep him still while his bone marrow made up for the deficit. It would be another four hours before the system took his body off alert, and another twelve before the internal carbon splints holding his nose together returned to standby. Until then he wasn’t allowed any adrenaline, artificial stimulants, or strenuous physical activity—though the latter could be overridden with a simple code, should the situation call for such an action.

But Dustin couldn’t sleep. Sleep was wasted time, time better spent figuring out the enemy, assessing the damage, finding a better course of action, avoiding those damned specters that did this to him. Oh he knew full well that the Shades were mere illusions, and they weren’t harmful so long as they didn’t confront him directly; nevertheless, a single step over that delicate line…and he was lucky that his wounds were as minor as they turned out to be. Nothing the ASIS couldn’t fix.

Yet he wasn’t the only one investigating. Dustin turned the corner of the hallway, making his passes, when he saw a human figure traveling in the shadows. The pustule lights were only dimmed to Stacy’s simulated time cycles, but it was still dark enough to make Dustin nervous.

To make matters worse, he didn’t have a weapon. Dustin really needed to do something about that. For the time being, he froze at the opposite end and waited to see if the other would make the first move.

Whether it was the lack of sleep or the residual effects of being shot, Mal's nerves were very close to being frayed. So when he heard steps coming up behind him, his first instinct was to reach for his gun. But then he saw the person was unarmed, and obviously not bent on shooting him or anything, so he dropped his arm to his side.

"Not a wise move, comin' up on someone who's armed," Mal said, putting away the firearm. "What're you doin' out here anyway? Got insomnia or somethin'?" He tried not to sound too short-tempered; after all, he was up late too, and might as well blame that on insomnia as well.

"Didn't mean to scare you. The nightmares just rubbed me the wrong way," he offered finally, as something of an apology.

He reached for a gun. Dustin tensed, illuminated briefly by a flickering pustule; he was crouched over his left side in a defensive stance, guarding a recent wound neatly bandaged under his open gray overcoat. His plantsuit was gone—not like he needed it, what with the ASIS taking care of things—and his black and red undershirt needed, ah, ‘repairs’. Dustin would have to find a pretty sturdy sewing kit in the next few days to fix that one up. And without that shirt, the scrawny man’s exposed ribs and scarred flesh were there for Mal to see.

Frankly it should’ve been frightening for him. Dustin’s hair was unkempt and ragged, face unshaven where the scars running up his cheeks did not touch, crooked nose striped with grisly, parallel ridges that pulsed underneath the skin and circled through its thick cartilage; his left shoulder was malnourished, clavicle crippled, distinguished by a ropy disfigurement that wrapped around his neck and over his upper arm, or rather, what was left of it, since the sleeves of Dustin’s overcoat were rolled up and exposed where his lively prosthetic met muscles and the epicondyles of his humerus. The other shoulder had a scar as well: a bullet wound, apparently going quite deep, but cleanly extracted. Same went for the center of his chest, which was an obvious kill shot, and yet the mark was superficial, possibly less serious than the other. Lower down, poking over the bandages around his emaciated waist, was a larger disfigurement that nearly covered his entire right lumbar region. For his relative size, that was saying something.

And this skinny, abused, paranoid, crazy genius of a man was on the alert but had no weapon. Well, save for his laser pointer—the other fellow was only human, after all. One shot in the eyes should deter him.

“Not a wise move pulling a gun on someone who has nothing left to lose,” sneered the scientist, wincing as he shifted position to something slightly more…neutral. “Besides, you seem like one of the ethical types. Wouldn’t shoot someone who was unarmed, would you?”

And Dustin left him to that challenge.

“Now…what am I doing out here?” he quipped with a slight raise of an eyebrow, “If what you just said was an indication of anything, then doing the same things for the same reasons you are.”

Implied meaning: Nightmare King issues. They all had them, didn’t they?

Well. That was the last thing he'd been expecting. Mal took Dustin's appearance in stride, although he couldn't keep the revulsion he felt from seeing the damage done to the man's body. He looked like he'd gone through hell but somehow had managed to survive.

So whereas Mal had come through the nightmare relatively unscathed, this man obviously had not. But Mal was dealing with his own paranoia and suspicion as well, so the man's remarks didn't faze him. "Nothin' left to lose?" Mal sounded cynical. "I'm thinkin' that's my line." But he lowered his gun, though he was still ready to aim and fire if it came to that. "Depends if that person decided to jump me or not."

He paused for a few seconds, leaving his words to hang in the air for awhile. He didn't mean them to be a threat, just something of a warning, in case he got any ideas. "Huh. Seems this nightmare business is gettin' to everyone. It's like I told the other guy I was talking to. If the Nightmare King ever shows up around here, there'll be lots of folks after his blood."

Even if a gun’s lowered, you can still pick it back up and shoot it if you want. Dustin didn’t take his eyes off that weapon.

“That’s just the thing, isn’t it though?” he replied with a determined grimace, “The Nightmare King feeds off that frustration, that anger…Our emotions are his little toys. He’s been inside all our brains, and he knows exactly what to make us see in order to break us apart.”

A pause. Dustin’s prosthetic edged for his pocket, movements subtle and liquid. Just in case.

“The only reason he hasn’t completely broken us yet is because he needs more energy. And if we’re not there to provide it…”

Now he paused again, thoughtful but dark.

“Tell me…How many people from your world are awake on this ship?”

And Dustin left it at that.

Kang's bad mood was obvious by the way his wings were being held, and the occasional lashing of his tail as he moved down the hallway. He'd been wandering for the past hour to blow off steam, ignoring the figure of Huzzad he'd seen a few times trying to lead him to other places. He was no fool; he'd seen Danny's message about the ghosts.

Grumbling to himself, he glanced down at his forearm again, where a long scratch was visible in the scales. Luckily, it wasn't very deep, just enough for a little bit of greenish blood to have welled up initially, but it was itchy. And annoying. And, he still had a slight headache from nearly getting sapped by the dream-sivak earlier in the day.

The bozak could see perfectly fine in the dim light, and when he saw the man up ahead, he paused a safe distance away, hand on the hilt of his sword just in case. He was quite aware of his appearance compared to humans, and had already had two people assume he was part of their nightmare because of it. He really didn't feel like being attacked by a shipmate.

"...nightmares keeping you up, too?"

"Yeah, somethin' like that," Mal responded, barely keeping himself from pulling out his gun again. No point in shooting someone who hadn't done anything. He cursed the nightmares for reducing him to this state of suspicion and frayed nerves.

"You wouldn't happen to know what's goin' on here, I suppose. 'Cause what's got me so worked up is that I saw someone the other night who I know to be dead." Mal shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I don't believe much in ghosts existin', but don't think I rightly know what else that could've been."

Snorting, Kang crossed his arms over his chest, "I want the Nightmare King's head, if he even has one, on a pike, after all the shit he's put us through." He wouldn't have blamed the man for pulling a weapon on him.

"They're real enough where I'm from. Not sure if the things here are ghosts or not, really, but I know better than to follow them anywhere. I keep seeing someone I know to be dead myself." He took a closer look at the human. "You're Kaylee's captain, aren't you?"

Finally, someone who felt the same way Mal did. He couldn't help but smirk as he replied, "I know the feelin'. If he ever shows his face around here, I'm thinkin' there'll be a lot of people who want a piece of him."

"Really now. Ghosts actually exist wherever it is you come from?" Mal raised an eyebrow, mostly out of curiosity than from skepticism. "And yeah, that'd be me. Malcolm Reynolds, or Mal. And you are?"

"Quite a lot," Kang agreed. "He hasn't really made himself very popular."

Nodding, he moved closer and held out his newly-healed hand, "Kang. I'm a friend of Kaylee's, and I've seen your ship, Serenity. She's certainly something."

It was hard, while living on the same rather-empty transport ship as someone, to not hear them when they were restless. The fact that Mal was up and agitated around the ship hadn't gone unnoticed by Kaylee, and while she wasn't about to stop him from letting off some steam, she definitely wanted to make sure he wasn't getting himself into more troubles outside Serenity.

She had been following close behind for a while, half wondering why Mal hadn't noticed her yet, and if he really was that wrapped up in his thoughts. Her fingers traced the bruise on her neck as she glanced down to Mal's shoulder. No one was coming out of this unscathed.

Eventually, the silence had continued longer than she felt necessary, and she stepped out into the hallway next to him. "Have you tried eatin' anythin'? A full stomach might help you settle some."

If there was anyone Mal did not want to be seeing right now, when he was at his worst, it was Kaylee. When he heard her steps behind him, and then a few moments later, her voice, he flinched.

Finally, he turned slowly to look at her. "It's late, Kaylee. What're you doin' out here?" He frowned, not wanting to drag her into his problems or worry her when there was nothing to worry about. "Don't really feel like eatin', meimei, but I appreciate the offer. Got too much on my mind now, if you understand me."

"Might be a good idea to go back to sleep. I'll be fine." He managed a half-smile, and hoped she couldn't tell that something was up.

Sometimes, Kaylee knew, the person you wanted to see least was the person you needed to see. It Mal told her to leave, she would, but if all he was going to do was hint she was sticking around.

"Couldn't sleep, heard you movin' about." Plain and simple as that. She smiled, and leaned up against the wall. Nope, definitely not leaving any time soon. "Maybe the food'd help you concentrate a bit, then."

She knew when something big was up, though. She always knew, with Mal. "Ain't gonna hurt you none if you're agitated, you know. Everybody is a bit right now."

Mal knew that as well, except right now he wished it wasn't true. But the most he could do was put on a smile for Kaylee and go along with whatever ideas she had come up with to make him feel better. And if he let them, they just might do that.

"Somethin' on your mind as well?" He asked simply out of habit; it was fairly common knowledge now that the nightmares were affecting everyone. And yet, some were handling it better than others. Kaylee, for instance, had always managed to bounce back, and he admired her for that. He could also, but it took him longer. "All right, I guess a little can't hurt. Probably better than pacin' this hallway forever."

He took her hand without really thinking about it, and then nodded towards the hall leading back to Serenity. "Ready to head back?"

"Not really, 'sides wonderin' what was on yours." She wasn't going to pry, though. That much was obvious by the shrug she gave. A person would have to be a complete dummy not to know what was on the crew's mind these days.

He was willing to try, and that would be enough for now. Kaylee wrapped her fingers around his hand in turn, with almost the same care a little girl might give her big brother. "Might even come to some tea-induced revelation on the whole matter," she pointed out.

"Well, Kaylee, don't think you'd really want to be knowin' what this old brain's got in it," Mal said with a slight laugh. "Pretty girl like you should be thinkin' about nice dresses, and fixin' up engines, if that's what you have a mind to think about." He added that last part as a nod to Kaylee's love for mechanics.

When Kaylee wrapped her fingers around his hand, Mal was hard-pressed to stop a full smile from crossing his face. Finally, he just gave in and let it come, until he looked the happiest he'd been since he had the nightmare featuring Tracey's ghost or whatever it was. "And if that doesn't end up happenin', at least we'll have gotten some good, quality time out of it. Hasn't been enough of that lately," he said as Serenity loomed up in front of them.

"Somebody's gotta help you clear out the cobwebs," she teased. He was laughing, good. "And I got plenty of time on my hands to worry 'bout other things."

The fact that he was smiling now, and that brightly, made Kaylee feel all kinds of good inside. She could make plenty of people feel better, but none of them compared to making Mal smile after a rough time. "Glad to see you're lookin' at the better side of it." Up and into the ship. "It's a nice side of ya, Cap'n."

"And there's no one better at doin' that than you, ain't that right, little Kaylee?" Mal's spirits were definitely lifting, as evidenced by his own form of teasing.

"Well, that's real nice of you to say. But seems to me this's the second or third time you've reminded me that maybe things aren't so bad. Think I owe you somethin' for your help." Mal squeezed Kaylee's hand fondly. "First chance I get, I'm gettin' you one of those frilly dresses."

"Not a soul." Of course, there weren't all that many people Mal would allow to get close enough to help out with his mental state. Kaylee was proud to say she could help him. "'M glad to help, Cap'n. Somebody's gotta keep you in shape, right?"

Of course, the mention of frilly dresses did wonders for Kaylee's own mood. She wouldn't be able to wear it all that much around Stacy, but there were always away missions, right? "Only if you put on the tightpants and parade 'round with me some," she laughed.

"Of course. Just 'cause we're missin' some of our people don't mean we don't have to look out for each other," Mal replied. "Though, not sure how well I'm doing lookin' after Inara. Not that she needs it, but can't say I know how well she's takin' things that've been going on." Well, aside from her reaction to his getting hurt, that is. He glanced sideways at Kaylee. "You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you?"

The mention of the word tightpants, and Kaylee's expression as she said it, was too much for Mal to resist. He let out a hearty laugh, and ruffled Kaylee's hair. "Anythin' for you, Kaylee. Got to keep my mechanic feelin' cheerful, after all."

Kaylee was about as sure of Inara's well-being as Mal was, and the little shrug she gave said as much. "She don't talk 'bout herself much, you know that as well as I do...'n she's good at keepin' the conversation away from herself." She bit her lip. "Seems alright, though. And 'M sure if somethin' was botherin' her enough she'd let one of us know, right?" Hopefully, she would.

"You do a shiny job of it, Cap'n, even if you think you don't." All proud now, Kaylee leaned in to give Mal a good hug before heading up into the ship.

Mal sighed and shook his head as he listened to what Kaylee had to say. "Figured as much. She's probably not feelin' too happy with me at the moment, 'cause of what happened the other night," he said a little reluctantly. He didn't want to tell Kaylee the details, but he figured she needed to know, if she didn't already. But even so, he wouldn't mention it unless she asked. "I'm sure she would, and in no uncertain terms at that."

Instead of speaking, Mal just pulled Kaylee closer as they re-entered the ship. "Every time I come back on Serenity, it just feels like I'm comin' home after a long absence," Mal said, more to himself than to Kaylee. "'Course, that's because she is home, but you know what I mean."

Edited 2010-02-21 17:19 (UTC)

Their meeting had been brief in the hanger, yes, but there was an air about the man that a person could be drawn to. That respectable sense of who they were or what they were capable of. Some people said Gwen had it to, but the woman just couldn't see it. Especially not from where she was huddled against what she had thought was an empty corridor on the ship with her legs pulled tight against her chest. They were all dead. Every last one of them and they had been there in her dreams and even as she walked around. If this was what going insane felt like then someone should just allow her to put a bullet in her head because it was not fun.

The balls of her hands were pressed in to her eyes blocking out all light as she mumbled to herself over and over again 'Not real... not real..'until it sounded like the red head was near hoarse. Please don't trip over her, Mal. The Lieutenant just might flail more than a little bit.

Sadly for her, Mal was too wrapped up in his mind to notice that he wasn't alone in the hallway anymore, and as he walked forward, he tripped right over her, stumbling a few paces and then managing to catch himself.

Confused, he looked wildly around him before spotting Gwen sitting on the floor. "Wh-what are you doin', sittin' there?" He paused to catch his breath. "Besides sittin', I mean."

Gwen freaked, literally, as soon as she was tripped over. Her arms flailed about and legs kicked in an attempt to get away from what she thought had to be an Alliance soldier. Truly she hadn't known any of them back on St. Alban's, but who said the dead couldn't haunt the living without knowing their names?

The younger woman didn't even look up at him as she backed away still on the ground. Her face was marred with little cuts as was her arms. To many close calls and not enough chance to get away from the armored enemy soldiers. "C-can't.. Gotta hide. Tiānsà de èmó Tóngméng. Nĭ tāmāde tiānxià suŏyŏu de rén dōu gāisĭ!"

The words that burst from Gwen's mouth took Mal by surprise, but they also gave him a clue as to what she was doing there. She was talking about Alliance soldiers, and hiding, except no one but the two of them were there.

Thinking quickly, he grabbed her arms to keep her from flailing. "Hey! Stay still, there's no Alliance here," Mal almost shouted at her in a desperate effort to get her back to reality. "Don't know if you remember me, but the name's Malcolm Reynolds, and I helped you with that ship project of yours."

He thought about what else might help, pausing again to buy himself some time. "Nothin's gonna hurt you, but whether you believe that or not, none of what you're seein' is real. The Nightmare King's messin' with us again."

Grabbing at her arms was easy. It wasn't like she was exactly fighting hard to get away and when he managed to still her bewildered green eyes flickered straight to Mal's face. She was cold, colder than it generally was on the ship and shaking not just from fear. At first she didn't reply as she watched the man holding her arms then back to the hall in general. When had it changed back? Where had the Purplebellies gone?

It was a weak whimper that managed to escape the young officer's lips.

"Bu...but they were here.. And they fired at us and.." When Gwen looked back to Mal her expression all but screamed 'how can that not be real?' Slumping forward she took one ragged breath. "I'm not going back there. I don't wanna go back there.."

"I know they were there," Mal said, even though he hadn't seen them for himself. "I saw somethin' similar: a battlefield, a man who's dead now, and bullets flyin' everywhere. One of 'em had my name on it, and got me right here." He pointed to the spot where he'd been hit. "Whoever you saw might've seemed real, but they ain't here on the ship." Just the injuries caused by their weapons were real, though he didn't say that aloud.

"You don't have to go back there if you don't want to." Mal let go of Gwen's arms, and eyed the woman sympathetically. He understood what it was like, reliving battle scenes, and knew the effect that could have on a person. "You got somewhere to stay? 'Cause if you don't, my ship Serenity is as good a place as any. No Alliance xiōngcán shāshŏu to be found there."

"I.. I've been mostly stayin' in th' hanger. Been workin' on th' skiffs.." Not that she didn't like her room. It was a place to try to sleep when she could which was pretty much down to maybe an hour or two a day at the max. Drawing her legs back up to her chest the woman slumped forward resting her head against her arms. "Not slept much since he- St. Alban's." Swallowing back the word 'here' was hard when the woman could have sworn that was where she was not a minute ago.

Quietly she turned her head toward Mal peeking out at him through locks of red hair and over her arm. "Don't like people messin' with me. Got enough of that back at the POW camp. Don't need it here an' don't want it."

"Keepin' busy is a good thing," Mal replied with a nod. But he figured there was more to it than that. He barely knew Gwen, but he could be perceptive enough when he had reason to. "It's your decision, of course, but keep in mind that if you ever need somewhere else to go, the offer'll still be standin'."

"And I get what you're sayin'. I don't like people who mess with me anymore than I like people who try an' kill me. Anythin' like that happens, you just try and mess with 'em right back." He shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Not sayin' you needed the reminder, though. Just... you're not alone here, dŏng ma?"

See Mal had time to not exactly move on from his war experiences but to learn to live with them. Gwen hadn't the time to adjust to any of it yet, really, coming straight in to the Nightmare King's plot to destroy them all on a mental level. It was one battlement after another pushing the woman quickly to her breaking point. She needed a break and fast only if it were a few hours of relaxation.

The offer the captain made was very much tempting. Being the sort she was, though, Shi wouldn't have wanted to impose on what crew she knew the man had on the ship. "Xièxie," she replied quietly giving a little nod of her head. It was a forced bark of a laugh between a little sniffling that had a weak smile finally upon her face. "I feel like I am though. You got th' memories just not as fresh as me. No one else has been there or even remotely close an.. How am I supposed t' move on when folk just want t' feel sorry instead of wantin t' help?"

Green eyes searched Mal's face looking for an answer. Had she been from his time the age difference wouldn't have seemed so vast. Now? Now it felt like decades. "How can you fight somethin' ain't really there?"

That may be true but war leaves scars on everyone, even after years have gone by and the majority of the details have been lost. Mal's memories from the war might not be as fresh as Gwen's, but they were still there somewhere in his mind. And the business of the recent nightmares had only served to bring them up again, exacerbating Mal's already frayed nerves.

"Might not be as fresh but that don't mean I don't have them. Sure, you're gonna find people who just want to feel sorry, but you can't shut yourself away either." Mal was speaking from experience here. If he'd locked himself away from everyone after the fiasco that was Serenity Valley, he'd most likely not be standing here talking to Gwen. "You know why I didn't go the way so many went after the wars? It was 'cause I had someone who wasn't afraid to knock me around if she thought I needed it."

He couldn't help the nostalgic smile that crossed his face. "Point being, you can't just push people away. You might not find anyone who's had the exact same experiences you've had but you also might find people who've seen war and are right where you are." Mal wasn't downplaying the differences in their stories. He was only trying to make her see that moving on isn't something that can be done alone.

"By bein' stronger than the thing that's causin' the memories to come up at all," was all the answer Mal had. It wasn't much, but it was the only thing he could think of. "Defeatin' it won't come in a day, or even a year. But it'll come, if you just wait for it and keep good people you can trust around."

"I lost my person like that. He.. well it was a few hours before I woke up here." Glancing away her hand went up to the tags she wore about her neck and the ring that was there with them. It was all she could do to lower it back down to the floor. "Guess goin from that t' this just ain't made me a very sociable person."

A weak little smile managed to bubble up again, this time her hands raising to wipe at the paper thin cuts about her face. They stung a little but not so bad she couldn't deal with them. "No, see, that's just it. I don't know. We knew that th' War was gonna end eventually just... Just not like that. Or if'n that was the end." Quietly she sighed. "To many questions an' not enough answers."

"Can see why you're a Captain, Reynolds. Shame our military careers ended like they did. Think you woulda gone all th' way to general."

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The scars will stay forever / Side to side with death

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