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From Horizon to Horizon
[by victoria p.]

Rating: PG

Summary: Kaylee's no fairytale princess, but she's looking for a perfect fit.

Spoilers: For the movie.

Notes: Thanks to luzdeestrellas, without whom this wouldn't be half the story it is, and I mean that literally. And many thanks to Kass for betaing.

Date: May 21, 2006

---

It's her Sunday best, but she knows it ain't good enough.

"You'll be the prettiest girl at the opera tonight," the captain says, and she looks up, startled, to see him in the doorway. He eases down the ladder into her bunk, bows over her hand and kisses it, like a gentleman would. "Though why you want to go and listen to a lot of caterwauling is beyond me."

"Simon wants to take me someplace nice, Cap'n." He rolls his eyes, and she slaps his arm lightly. "He's trying." That's what it's about, she tells herself. Her momma always said relationships take hard work, and this is the first one Kaylee's had that's outlasted the shiny of someone new to grapple with.

"I'll say he is, at that."

She wrinkles her nose at him. "He don't mean nothing by it," she says.

"That's what I'm afraid of, bâobèi." He shakes his head and smiles at her then. He seems to fill her bunk, make it feel small around her, make her breath catch in her throat. "Howsabout you put your coveralls back on and we go shopping for some engine parts? I hear tell Eddie's Salvage is having a sale today, and we got some bits of shiny from the Spinks job he might be interested in trading for."

She puts a hand to her chest, hoping he can't see how her heart is beating something fierce, and nods. "Shiny, Cap'n," she says, and her voice sounds all husky and strange.

"Okay, then." He bows again, and she notices how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. He doesn't much, lately, and it's a gorram shame.

*

The sun is bright and it feels good to breathe fresh air, even if the scrap yard is hard by the slaughterhouse on the downwind side of town. Kaylee understands it does necessary work, but she don't have to like it. The smell makes her sick, and she presses her face to the captain's arm, smells cheap detergent and sweat and the lingering metallic tang of Serenity. He wraps his arm around her, holds her close as they walk through town.

"Ain't gonna turn vegetarian on us again, are you?" he asks, giving her a quick squeeze. She looks up at him and shakes her head, laughing.

For a few weeks after they'd delivered Sir Warrick's cattle to Jiangyin, River had refused to eat beef--said it didn't feel right after they'd traveled with the herd as passengers. Kaylee'd gone along with her, 'cause she'd liked the cows, even with the mess and all. Inara'd talked about cleansing diets and how some people thought cows were sacred, and it seemed to make River happy. None of it mattered much, though. They didn't see fresh meat often enough aboard Serenity to make a difference, and by the time they did, after weeks of molded protein and thin soup, she and River'd both been hungry for it, all moral principles forgotten with the first whiff of grilled beef.

Captain steers her through the streets easily enough--he's the kind of man people make way for, even when they ain't sure why--and they both stop at the same time, alert, ears perked like the hunting dogs her brother Wilkie trained when she was a kid.

"You hear that?" he asks, and he's smiling again, looking at her like she's a precious jewel he just found in a box of Crackerjack, surprised like, 'cause everybody knows those prizes ain't worth a damn, and he must be one lucky sumbitch to have come up with a good one. Gives her a little shock of pleasure to have him looking at her like that. She wonders for a second what he'd say if she told him.

The song ain't the same as the one she grew up with, but there's no mistaking the chimes of the ice cream truck. The local kids rush through the street to line up.

He gives her another squeeze and says, "You wanna?" with that wicked mischievous smile he don't use that often, but which always makes her a little weak in the knees. "My treat." And there's no way she's saying no to that.

"Ain't you sweet," she answers, wrapping her arm around his as they get in line.

*

Her hands and mouth are sticky by the time they get back to the docks, but she's too busy laughing to care.

"So there we were, caught red-handed stealing Miss Lucy's frilly knickers off the clothesline, and Randy says--my hand to God, Kaylee, he said it--'It's not what it looks like,' and he shoves the little scrap of lace into his pocket." Captain's laughing so hard he's got an arm wrapped round his belly, and she thinks there's something cleansing about it, something sacred, more than any diet could ever be, and if ever a man needed that, it's him. "And Curly, the Changs' foreman, just nods, like what Randy's saying makes any kind of sense. 'Carry on, then,' he says, and walks away like all's right with the world. Never was the sharpest knife in the drawer, old Curly. We ran back to the barn, laughing so hard my lungs were fit to burst." He leans against her, and she can feel him shaking with laughter. She don't think she's heard him laugh so free since, since--a long time, and she's glad she's getting to share it. "Oh, man, I ain't thought of that in years."

She knows better than to ask what happened to them--whole moon was wiped clean by saturation bombing during the war, and when it was over, he didn't have no home to go back to. She don't want his thoughts to turn in that direction, though, not while the sun's shining bright and hot and she can still taste chocolate ice cream on her tongue.

"Nobody ever stole my knickers," she says thoughtfully, "though if someone did, I'd take it as the compliment it was intended as, I'm sure." He snorts with laughter at that and she smacks his arm lightly. "I would. Can't say as how it's not a little creepy--I mean, a boy wants a pair of my knickers that bad, all he's got to do is ask--but one time I did leave a pair at Alfred Crenshaw's house after we had ourselves a bit of fun."

"His momma found 'em?"

She shakes her head. "Worse. He came over to bring 'em back and my daddy watched him like a hawk--"

Captain shakes his head and sucks his teeth. "Too late. Poor man. Had no idea that horse'd already left the barn."

She swats him again, then wraps her hand around his arm, liking the feel of him under her fingers. "I swear, I thought I was gonna die of embarrassment, waiting for Daddy to leave us alone, but he did finally, and we made the most of it." They share a grin that's all kinds of knowing, and she feels her tummy lurch a little, like it does when Simon touches her, but she ignores it.

"Course, next wash day, Momma wondered where the extra pair of tighty whiteys came from, since they wouldn't fit neither Daddy nor Wilkie."

He starts laughing again, and hugs her close to his side. "You are a piece of work, you are, Miss Kaylee Frye." She looks up to say something just as he's bending to kiss her hair and his lips brush her forehead for a second, no different from what he's done a hundred times before, but this time it sends a shock of heat through her. He freezes, so he must feel it too; there's something in his eyes she can't rightly identify, though it looks like a good deal of panic might be mixed in, which is crazy, 'cause he never panics--leastaways, not that she's ever seen.

She knows she has to do something before it gets all weird and awkward, so she smiles and reaches up to cup his cheek with her sticky fingers. "Takes one to know one, Cap'n."

He puts his hand over hers, and turns his face to kiss her palm, so light that it tickles as much as it burns. "That it does," he murmurs in a low voice, and drops her hand.

They stand there for a moment, and she's afraid the awkwardness is going to happen anyway--he squints up at the sun and she can tell he's going to say something she probably don't want to hear, so she says, "Quit your dawdling, Cap'n. I got a date for the opera tonight and I need to get all prettied up."

"You look pretty fine to me right now," he says, but he sounds normal again, and she thinks it's going to be okay. Later, she tells herself. She can think on what happened later.

*

She puts on her best lacy underwear and smiles, thinking about the captain's story. She'd let him steal her knickers if he wanted. She blushes and tries to push away the thought of what it'd feel like to have him touch her, his hands warm and strong on her hips, or 'twixt her nethers.

She shakes her head. He's the captain, and for all she used to fantasize about him when the nights on Serenity were long and lonely, she's got Simon now, and oughtn't be thinking on other men. Not that he'd ever look at her. Even with Inara gone--for good this time, after her and the captain couldn't seem to make things work--Kaylee knows she ain't got a snowball's chance in hell of attracting his lustful attentions, even if she wanted to. Which she don't anymore.

She concentrates on what she does have--a pretty new dress and a pretty man to show it off to. She slips the dress over her head and enjoys the feeling of it floating around her. As she lines her eyes and dabs on some lipstick, she remembers all the times she'd watched Inara get ready for a client, how she'd always try to teach Kaylee some new trick about makeup or flirting, something to help catch Simon's attention.

"Men like mystery," Inara'd said once as she dusted her shoulders and chest with glittery powder, then dabbed the puff over Kaylee's cheeks. "They like to think they're seeing your secrets--things you've never shown to anyone else. They like to believe they're first--that they make you feel things you've never felt before. So smile as if you've got a secret. Leave them wanting more, and they'll always come back."

She'd worried about it at the time. "I got no poker face, Inara. I'm not much of one for keeping secrets."

Inara had cupped her cheek gently and laughed. "Oh, bâobèi, the way you shine, you'll never have to."

Now she wonders if that's why Inara and Mal hadn't worked--he likes the truth straight and unvarnished, as uncomplicated as possible, like an old-fashioned Stirling engine, and Inara is like some fancy new Alliance technology, all angles polished till light bends round 'em, showing hundreds of possible truths instead of one, and nothing but complications everywhere you look.

She shakes her head and laughs at herself in the mirror. "Oughtn't waste your time philosophizing," she tells her reflection. "Ain't your strong suit."

But still, it makes her wonder, and not just about Inara and Mal.

*

When Kaylee goes to the common area to wait for Simon, River oohs and aahs over her and even Jayne mumbles something 'bout how she looks right nice. The captain bows over her hand again, and though he don't kiss her this time, she gets a fluttery feeling in her belly from the way his breath slides over her skin. He keeps hold of her hand until Simon appears in the doorway, and she shivers a little when he lets her go.

Simon's all decked out in a new suit, black as the 'verse, and a sharp white vest underneath it.

"Wow," she says, before he can say anything, 'cause she's still worried her dress ain't good enough, "you look--wow."

"Think you might have stolen the good doctor's line," Mal mutters, but she don't think anyone else hears him.

"Thank you, Kaylee," Simon says, taking her hand. "You look lovely."

She pinches a bit of skirt between her fingers and curtseys. "Thank you kindly."

As he leads her out, she turns back to see the captain watching after her with a look she can't quite figure out.

*

The opera house in Arcadia is all white marble and red velvet--the metal on the seats is gilded and gleaming--and it has the same kind of hovering chandeliers as the ballroom on Persephone, only smaller. Simon don't even notice until Kaylee points them out. He looks up quick and says, "Uh huh," like they ain't anything special, and she supposes to him, they ain't.

The music is nice, but the story is sad and complicated, and when Kaylee gets distracted trying to figure out how the sets work, she loses the thread of it. She's happy enough to listen to the singing and look at the men in their dark suits--nobody else is as handsome as Simon, of course, but she does enjoy looking--and the ladies in their jewel-colored dresses. She don't feel too out of place in her simple green frock, not like she thought she would. It's the color of new leaves in spring, River'd said when she saw it, said it made Kaylee look like a wood nymph. Kaylee don't know about that, but she does know she feels pretty, and that's all that matters.

At the intermission, Simon buys her a glass of champagne--the bubbles tickle her nose--and some little iced cakes.

"Ooh, they're so dainty," she says with a laugh, popping one into her mouth and letting the sugared icing melt on her tongue.

"The daintiest Kaylee in Christendom."

She cocks her head curiously. "Shénme?"

He shakes his head. "Just being silly," he says with a smile, and she reaches up to run a finger along his jaw. She can tell he's happy, even if he is a mite twitchy about being out in public, so it really shouldn't matter that she don't get his jokes. That he's making them is enough.

She tries not to eat too many little cakes--they don't have a lot of money to spend, and she doesn't want to look like a glutton, since she already had ice cream today--and asks him some questions about the opera. He spends a few minutes explaining things, but when he's done, he sort of trails off into an uncomfortable silence and she ain't sure why. She wracks her brain for some other topic of discussion, something light and funny, but all she can come up with at the moment is Mal's story about stealing his neighbor's underpants, and that's not hers to share.

She'd have thought after being together a few months, she and Simon would be better at the talking thing, but the awkwardness lingers. They fit best in bed, or up against the engine room wall, or there was that one time in shuttle two.... She takes a sip of champagne to cool off and gives him a saucy smile.

"There's a lot of little shadowy nooks around here," she whispers in his ear. "Maybe we could have a quick--"

"Kaylee!" He looks mortified and she giggles.

"Gotcha."

"Oh, ha ha." But at least he's smiling.

She gives him a big wet smack of a kiss on the cheek, still laughing. "Poor Simon, always getting joked on." Though thinking on it, she's not sure she didn't mean it. It'd be a fun story to tell later, that's for sure. And more fun in the doing than the telling. Though she really don't have anyone she'd tell it to, with Inara gone; the thought of telling Mal makes her tingly in places she oughtn't get tingly thinking about him, and she can't imagine telling River or Zoe, though it might make Zoe laugh, which would be worth it. She misses Wash something fierce, and don't know how Zoe stands it, even after all these months. That thought sobers her up a mite, so she cups Simon's face and kisses him again, softer this time, grateful she didn't lose him, and he relaxes.

She slips off to the ladies room (which is done in gold and pale blue and is easily as pretty as the auditorium itself), and when she comes back, she finds Simon cornered by a beautiful blonde girl whose sparkly dress reminds Kaylee of the long, cold glass of champagne she just had. She seems friendly enough (maybe a little too friendly, though Kaylee ain't the jealous type), but Simon latches onto Kaylee like he's being set loose in the black and she's the last tank of oxygen.

"She was just being friendly," Kaylee says as the lights flicker and they go back to their seats. "You weren't so shuài, maybe you wouldn't have to beat 'em off with a stick." He gives her a quick kiss and an awkward grin.

"I just hope she's not calling the Feds."

She squeezes his arm, trying to let him know she truly appreciates the risk he's taking to do something nice for her. "Oh, sweetie, I don't think she's ever watched the news in her life. Probably find it right exciting to be courted by a dashing outlaw such as yourself."

He laughs and gives her another light kiss as the lights dim and the curtain goes up. Then he gets lost in the music again, and it's like she ain't even there.

*

Captain's sitting at the dining table when they get back, fiddling with what looks like the workings of one of the crybabies.

He looks up and smiles as they come in. "Have a nice time?"

"Shiny, Cap'n." She pulls out a chair and sits next to him, then smiles at Simon. "Give me a few minutes," she says. "Just gonna make sure the Cap'n hasn't tried to fix something that ain't broke."

Simon nods and walks on while the captain says, "Hey," but she can hear the laughter in it and knows he ain't offended. He gestures at the parts on the table. "Just making sure it's working the way it should." She waits, knowing there's more, and finally he says, "Never quite at ease when the whole crew's not on board."

"You ain't been easy much at all lately," she says. "Not since--" He looks away and she changes tack, 'cause the last thing she wants to do is hurt him. "But you had fun this afternoon, right?"

"Ain't a man alive wouldn't have fun being out with you, little Kaylee." He smiles again, tapping her nose with a finger. It makes her a little breathless. "So you enjoyed the opera?"

"It was," she pauses trying to think of how to say it, "interesting. We had these little iced cakes--all pink and green sugar on the outside and chocolate on the inside--and champagne at the intermission. It was nice to drink something wasn't distilled in the engine room last week. The bubbles make me laugh."

"I bet they do." He hesitates, which she ain't used to seeing from him, then, more seriously, "The doc's doing right by you?"

"Oh yeah." She smiles, because he is, he does. "I maybe don't get his jokes like I should, but--"

"He makes jokes?"

"Very funny, Cap'n."

He grins, not sorry at all. "But the opera itself--did you like that?"

"It was pretty. And sad. I don't know that I'd like to listen to something so sad all the time. I wanted it to have a happy ending. Stories should have happy endings, Cap'n."

He shakes his head. "Life don't always end happy, Kaylee."

Like she don't know that, hasn't learned it the hard way living on Serenity. "That's why stories should."

He cocks his head, thoughtful-like. "You may be onto something there." Then he's smiling again, and his eyes go far away. "There was a spinster lady in town where I grew up--she used to listen to opera turned up real loud, so you could hear it in the street when you walked by. Everybody said it was because she'd had a tragical romance in her past. I always thought it sounded like the toms having a fight in the alley, but it made me sad to hear it when I passed her shop. She was a dance teacher. We all had lessons for a few months--took the town like a sickness."

She smiles, thinking someday she's going to have to get him to dance with her. "You were sweet on her?"

"I was not." But he's looking a little abashed, and he picks up one of the amplifiers, turning it over in his hand so he don't have to meet her eyes, and she knows she's right.

"You were!"

A half-smile this time, makes him look younger, less weary than usual. "Okay, maybe a little bit. I was thirteen, and she had red hair and nice legs. Really nice legs and--" He shakes his head. "Anyway, one of our hands used to slick his hair back and put on his Sunday suit to go into town to visit her, and I was jealous of him for two or three weeks, until Ellen Yeo took me behind the barn and let me put my hand up under her shirt. I knew Miss Vasquez wasn't gonna let me do that."

"Oh, Mal," she says, laughing with him. "You were quite the ladies' man, huh?" She reaches for the amplifier and sucks in a surprised breath when the slide of her hand against his sends a thrill through her. He holds her gaze for a long moment, and she looks away first, afraid if she don't she's like to drown in his eyes.

"Now let me have this," she says, changing the subject to cover her confusion, mentally scolding herself for acting like a skittish schoolgirl, especially when he's never given her no cause for it, "so's I can put this thing back together again."

"Never seen anyone as good at fixing things as you," he says, and though it's a compliment, she can hear the sadness in it, too, and it makes her heart ache. "Show me?"

He's so close, and she can tell he ain't been drinking, so it must be the champagne gone to her head, making her hear things he ain't saying.

"Anytime," she answers, and her voice comes out all low and scratchy.

Together--his hands and hers--they put the crybaby back together, amplifiers and antennae and tiny little screws inside the old Blue Sun coffee can. It's late and there's no sound but the in-out shush of their breathing in time with the hum of Serenity's engine. Kaylee don't think she's ever been so in tune with another person in her life.

When they're done--and it don't take near as long as she wishes it would--he sits back, and the 'verse expands again. For a second she feels like she's lost something precious, but she knows that something's not hers to keep.

"Hey," he says, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and giving it to her to wipe her hands on, "don't want to muss your pretty dress."

She takes the handkerchief and stands, too quickly, nervous in a way she's never been around him before, and has no reason to be now. She can feel her smile slipping as she says, "Well, that's a fine night's work. I'm gonna turn in now," like it was any other night, but she don't know what else to say, because even if it feels like it isn't, it is--she's imagining the whole thing and in the morning, she'll laugh at her own foolish fancies.

She can feel him watching her walk away, sad look still in his eyes, and it makes her want to cry.

Simon's asleep when she slips into the bed; he mutters something but doesn't wake up, and she's glad.

In the morning, when she pulls on her coveralls, she tucks Mal's handkerchief into her pocket like a secret.

*

She's finishing her breakfast when Simon comes into the kitchen. "I waited for you last night, but you didn't come in before I fell asleep," he says.

"Oh, it took longer than I expected to put the crybaby back together. Cap'n wanted to see how it all worked. You were sleeping so peaceful, seemed a shame to wake you."

She gives him a good morning kiss, and is going to walk away, leave him to his coffee, but she's curious, and it ain't like she's got to punch a clock or nothing, so she sits back down next to him.

"Thanks again for taking me last night," she says. "I could tell you enjoyed it."

He smiles. "I did. It was a privilege to hear Chiaki Shimada sing 'Un Bel Di.' I didn't think I'd ever have a chance to see her live. Didn't think she'd ever appear this far from the Core, to be honest."

"You really love it, huh?" She leans forward, eager for his answer.

"The opera? Yes." His smile fades and his brow furrows. "Didn't you?"

"I liked it just fine. I wouldn't say I did if I didn't. It was so sad and pretty. But I want to know why you like it."

"I--I just do. It's hard to explain."

"Try?" she asks, smiling at him and putting a hand on his arm to coax him.

He cocks his head, looks thoughtful for a long minute. "It's beautiful," he says finally. "And civilized."

It's the kind of answer he'd give anybody, and she bites back a sigh. Work, she reminds herself. Relationships take work, and this one maybe more than most.

*

Life settles back into normal after the opera, or as normal as it gets on Serenity now. Simon and River are still fugitives, though no warrant for them has come up on the Cortex in nearly a month, and it's hard getting work with so many of their contacts dead and gone. Fanty and Mingo still give them jobs, though nobody's ever happy about the arrangement, and there's a new boss on Persephone took over from Badger, a woman name of Maris who seems unreasonably fond of Jayne.

Though Kaylee has to admit, a couple weeks later, when she walks into the kitchen for dinner and Jayne's standing at the range, frying something up, he has his good points.

"Smells good," she says. "What's going on?"

"Thought it was time for a decent meal," Mal said, sitting down in his place at the head of the table. He glances over at Zoe, who looks less hollow and more rested than she has in a long time, and Kaylee realizes he's celebrating her presence, her recovery, the only way he can.

"You know when he admits to being sick of protein, we been eating too much of it," Jayne says.

"Though why we're trusting Jayne to cook it, I still ain't sure of."

"Nobody fries a steak like Jayne Cobb. Ask anyone in the 'verse, they'll tell you it's true."

Kaylee laughs and joins everyone else at the table. "Known you almost two years now, Jayne, and I never knew you were so handy in the kitchen," she says.

"Ain't the only place I'm handy, neither, little Kaylee," he answers, leering. "Time comes you get tired of the doctor--no offense, Doc--"

"Oh, none taken," Simon says in his sarcastic voice.

"But you know she's a lot more than you can handle--"

"Jayne," the captain says.

But Jayne just keeps talking. "I could show you some good times."

"Jayne," the captain says, sharper this time, and meant to be obeyed.

Jayne puts the platter of steaks on the table and sits down next to Kaylee, muttering, "Captain's pet."

She sticks her tongue out at him, laughing, and spoons some rice onto her plate.

"So you've been here two years?" Simon asks her as she hands him the bowl of green beans. He passes the bowl to River without taking any.

"Me? Oh, I've been here longer than that." She giggles again and points her spoon at Jayne. "He's the Jaynie-come-lately."

"Hey!"

"Well, it's true. Cap'n and Zoe and Wash," it comes out all natural and without thinking, and for the first time since he died, she don't feel awkward mentioning him, "were here before me, but you signed on after. And then Inara after you." And now she shoots a look at the captain, afraid she's said the wrong thing twice over, but he smiles at her.

"Yeah, we had quite the introduction, didn't we, Kaylee?" he says, and the look in his eyes is warm and full of shared secrets.

She blushes, remembering. "I fixed Serenity, didn't I? A gentleman wouldn't mention the rest in company."

"Mal ain't no gentleman," Jayne says. He leans forward. "What happened? Was there sexin'?"

"Kaylee proved she was a better mechanic than the chûnrén I'd hired, so I offered her the job on the spot."

"Bester wasn't too bright," Zoe says, "but he was the best of the lot at the time."

"You mean he was the only one who'd hire on with us when we started out," Mal says.

"That, too," Zoe replies. Her smile ain't big, but it lights her eyes. "Got to give him credit, though. He got Serenity up in the air the first time."

"And he sure was pretty to look at," Kaylee says.

"Not as pretty as you," the captain replies and she blushes again.

Jayne shakes his head. "Gorram captain's pet," he repeats, and then shoves a chunk of meat into his mouth to stop himself from saying anything to make the captain yell at him again.

There's even some chocolate cake for dessert and it actually tastes like chocolate. They sit around telling each other funny stories for the first time in a long time, and Kaylee thinks maybe the worst has passed.

Later, as she's getting ready for bed, Simon says, "So you and Bester were--"

She turns to look at him, startled. "We weren't nothing, Simon. He was just a pretty boy who promised me a look at his ship. At the time, I'd never been off-world, and I thought coming onboard for a little fooling around would be the closest I'd ever get."

"So you didn't sleep with him."

She frowns. "No, I did. Couple times."

"Oh. I--"

"Does that bother you?"

"No. I just, I didn't know that."

She slips under the covers next to him and curls up on her side, tucking the pillow under her head. "You never asked."

She's tired but she's wide awake, and she don't know why. Once she's sure Simon's off, she slides out of the bed and goes to the engine room. The gentle sway of the hammock and the familiar hum of the engine finally lull her to sleep.

*

They have to stop to refuel a few days later and the captain chews her out at breakfast 'cause the engine's not as fuel-efficient as it used to be.

"Gorrammit, Kaylee, we ain't made of money. Fuel cells cost more all the time and we're using 'em faster than we ever did before, and I can't be having that."

She knows part of it is 'cause River's not the pilot Wash was--not yet anyway--and don't know how to fly to conserve fuel when she needs to. But she don't say that, 'cause River's doing the best she can--they all are, and he knows it.

Instead, she says, "When we rebuilt the engine we added some new equipment, Cap'n. Made her faster, stronger. But she sucks down power now like a hungry baby drinks milk."

"Can you fix it?"

"I got some ideas could maybe help," she says cautiously. "I need to do some cleaning first, though. May take a few hours. Don't be getting us into anything we have to get out of real fast, okay?"

"Hey, I don't go looking for trouble, Kaylee. It--"

"Just happens to find you," she finishes, laughing. "You always say that, Cap'n, but I'm starting to think you might not be telling me the truth."

"I'm hurt. No, I really am hurt," he says, putting his hand over his heart. "You've cut me to the quick, Miss Kaylee, and I don't think I'll ever recover." He manages to keep a straight face for a few seconds before he starts laughing, too. "Now go and do whatever it is you've got to so's we can stop feeding all our money into the fuel tank."

"Yes, sir, Cap'n, sir." She stands and turns to Simon, ruffling his hair. "I'm gonna be pretty busy today," she says. "You should come visit me."

He smiles up at her. "I'll do that."

But she don't think he will. Since they finished repairing Serenity--and he was dead useful with a soldering iron, said it was just like surgery--he doesn't stop by very often while she's working. He says it's 'cause he doesn't want to distract her, but she knows it's really 'cause he ain't comfortable in her engine room--too dirty and too many moving parts, all manner of dangerous things he can't control.

He surprises her today, though, shows up with a tray of food just when her stomach's started grumbling.

She wipes her hands on her coveralls and says, "Perfect timing, Doctor Tam." She settles down on the floor and reaches for a plate; he hesitates just a second before handing it over, and she can feel herself blushing. She tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear and bites her lip. After another couple of seconds that feel endless, she puts the plate on the floor and says, "I'll be right back. I'm just gonna run to the little girls' room first." She smiles awkwardly. "You can start without me."

"I can wait."

She slips down into her bunk and splashes water on her face to cool off her hot skin, muttering at herself for being foolish. She takes a couple of deep breaths and washes her hands, resigned to the fact that the grease ain't coming out from under her nails any time soon.

When she gets back, River's there, eating the food off Simon's plate.

"It's a clean sort of dirt," River says, smiling at her. Kaylee has stopped being startled when River starts a conversation in the middle; she's just grateful the girl don't air some of the naughtier thoughts she's  probably overheard from time to time, though sometimes she smiles at Kaylee all knowing and amused.

"That's an oxymoron--"

"Simon! That ain't nice--"

"Dirt is inherently...dirty," he continues, "or it wouldn't be...dirt." He smiles at Kaylee. "Oxymoron isn't an insult, Kaylee. It's a combination of contradictory words, like clean dirt or, or--"

"Military intelligence," River supplies. "Classic example."

He wrinkles his nose at River. "I was going to say 'liquid gas,' or 'genuine imitation.'"

"Oh," Kaylee says, understanding, though she don't feel like part of the conversation anymore, "like those dresses we took to New Dunsmuir."

Now Simon smiles at her. "Yes. Exactly."

"Learn something new every day," she says, and then picks up her sandwich and starts eating. "We should do this more often."

Simon raises his eyebrows and gives her a little half-grin. "Learn things?"

"Picnic in the engine room." He looks around, skeptical. "It's homey in here. It's the heart of the ship." She wishes she knew more medical terms so she could make him understand how much like a real heart the engine is--it stops turning, Serenity stops moving. "Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I come in here and let Serenity soothe me. You know how when you first bring home a puppy, you wrap up an old ticking clock in a blanket for it to sleep with, so it thinks its mother's nearby? Like that."

"It did take me a while to get used to sleeping with the hum of the engines," he says. "Sometimes I play music at night so I don't have to hear it."

"Juéduì bù. Hum of an engine's its own kind of music, Simon. Like a lullaby. I don't know that I could sleep without it."

But he ain't listening to her.  "And the idea that only the ship's hull is keeping all that...nothingness out.…" He shudders and River laughs at his discomfort.

"Warm and safe in here, like in your momma's womb," Kaylee says, though considering Simon's parents, maybe that ain't the best comparison. "And Serenity's hull is strong, Simon, strong enough so we can sleep easy in her embrace. She'll never let us down, we keep her up right."

"That's almost poetical, Kaylee," the captain says, and she jumps, startled. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need the doc."

Simon scrambles to his feet, dusting his crumbs off his hands. "Is someone injured? What--"

"Nothing like that. Jayne thinks there's a secret compartment in the bottom of one of those crates we're carrying, something Braddock didn't tell us about, and instead of letting him at it with a crowbar, I was thinking maybe you could do a little surgery--cut into it nice and neat, someplace it'll go unnoticed. Don't want any surprises."

Simon looks so relieved he can leave the engine room that it makes Kaylee's chest hurt, but she waves him away with a smile she hopes don't look as fake as it feels. "Go. Be useful. I got work to finish up. Bought some new solvent yesterday I was thinking to try out. Better if you're not underfoot if it gets messy."

 "Kaylee--" Simon starts.

She cuts him off before he can finish. "I'll be careful."

"Try not to blow up my ship," the captain says, ruffling her hair. She shivers at the touch, and not 'cause it's cold. He does it again, though this time it ain't so much a ruffle as a slow stroke, his fingers trailing heat over her scalp and lingering for a moment on her neck before he takes them away, making her shiver again, feeling it. She swallows hard and focuses on cleaning the engine housing.

"Don't worry," River says, "I'll look after her."

Neither Simon nor the captain look comfortable with that, but Jayne hollers from the cargo bay and they leave.

River's good company--she knows when a body wants to talk and when a body wants to be quiet, and she's got no problem getting her hands dirty or bending her back to some hard scrubbing where it's necessary.

She hums softly while she works, and after a bit, Kaylee recognizes the tune from the opera. River smiles at her.

"On Sunday afternoons, our father used to insist we have some culture," she says. "He would play opera for us, or we would go to the ballet--perfect family having the perfect Sunday." River don't sound upset--sounds like she's talking about something that happened to someone else and she only heard about it secondhand--but Kaylee feels her eyes sting a little. If River asks, though, she'll say it's just the fumes from the solvent. "Whenever Simon gave them reason to celebrate, they took him to the opera. When he got into the medacad, they took him to see Madama Butterfly. It's his favorite." She pirouettes. "I always liked the ballet better. Didn't celebrate as much, though."

"My grandma took me to The Nutcracker when I was nine," Kaylee says, taking River's hand and squeezing it. She tries not to be irritated that Simon didn't tell her any of this when she'd asked, but she can feel the anger settle in her belly like sediment in a gas tank--eventually it'll need cleaning out, but she can't think on that right now. "I liked it, though the Mouse King scared me. Wanted a nutcracker of my own to protect me."

"Have one now," River says, smiling again. "Tough nut to crack, but a prince underneath."

"I, yeah, I guess I do," Kaylee replies, though she's never thought of Simon as the protective type. At least, not of her. Sisters, she knows, are different. He's certainly got the look of a prince charming, though. She just ain't sure she's ever going to be a fairytale princess. She don't even think she wants to be, anymore.

*

Simon shared something special with her, so it seems only fair that she return the favor. She has some money saved--captain gets tetchy when she spends her own money on engine parts (he don't stop her, but he does get that pinched look around his mouth and tells her she don't have to, as if she didn't know that), though she don't mind. She likes taking care of her girl, making sure her girl takes care of him, of them all.

But since they patched Serenity up after Miranda, she don't need as much work day-to-day--first time most of her parts are new since she was built, and Kaylee's taking care to make sure they last.

The market at the Eavesdown docks don't have anything that strikes her--she didn't expect they would--so she tells Zoe she's got errands to run and heads into town proper. The pawnshop is quiet and dusty and smells of damp. She don't know exactly what she's looking for, but she thinks she'll know when she sees it. Most of the stuff here is junk, too, but sometimes there's treasure to be found under piles of go(u shi(, you look hard enough.

"I can see you're a young woman of taste," says the old man sitting behind the counter after a few minutes of watching her sort through stuff on the tables. He spreads his hands wide above the display case. "For you, I have something special. Come and see."

She walks over warily, wishing she'd been a little more specific when she'd told Zoe where she was going. The pawnbroker's hands are gnarled like tree roots and covered with liver spots, but they're clean. He smells of fried grease and smoke, and his smile is wide and genuine.

"Look," he says, pulling out a tray of jewelry, sparkling like stars against black velvet. "All very nice--this one," he holds up a gold bracelet studded with blue stones, "fourteen carat gold, genuine lapis. Pretty girl like you shouldn't have to buy her own jewelry, but I can give you a special price--"

"It's shiny," she interrupts, "but I'm looking for a gift for...." She trails off, eye caught by a graceful twist of metal gleaming dully behind the dirty plexiglass. "What is that?" she asks, tapping the case. He puts the jewelry back and draws out the metal instrument--a sextant. She's only ever seen 'em in encyclopedias; didn't even know they still got made. "Can I?" She takes it from him; it's heavier than she expected, brass-plated, and the parts move easily. She can tell it was well cared for. She puts her eye to the eyepiece and gazes out the window at the horizon, fiddling 'til the reflection of the sun touches it, and she could mark her place in the 'verse if she were so inclined.

"That's a Changzhou," the pawnbroker says. "Still got all its original parts. Don't see much call for equipment like that around here--not a lot of ocean for folk to go sailing on, huh?"

She sucks in a breath--this is a perfect gift for the captain, and she wants to give it to him, but--

The bell rings over the door, and speak of the devil.

"Fancy meeting you here," she says, and he smiles.

"Hey there, little Kaylee. Small world, ain't it? Almost done with your errands?" He joins her at the counter, so close she can feel him breathing, and takes the sextant from her. He brings it to his eye, working it sure and steady. He has nice hands--long fingers, strong wrists. Soldier's hands, working man's hands, know how to do a lot of things, rough when he needs to be, gentle when he wants. She sucks in a breath, feeling a little dizzy thinking about those hands and what else he might do with them. "You ever been sailing on the ocean, Kaylee?"

"N-no, sir," she says, that strange nervousness afflicting her again, making her belly squirm.

He puts it down, smiles at her. "Me neither." He slides his thumb along her jaw, slow and steady, like he's liking the feel of her skin, and she licks her suddenly dry lips. "Maybe someday." He turns to the pawnbroker. "Thanks for letting us see it. It's a right fine piece of equipment." And he steers her out of the shop, his hand warm and sure on the small of her back.

"I was looking to buy Simon a present," she says.

"Never took him for a sailor."

"Wouldn't've been for him, Cap'n,"

"Is that so?" His voice is low, his mouth next to her ear, and his fingers rub gently along her spine, setting sparks off along her nerves, and wet heat rushing between her thighs.

She turns and looks up at him, so close she can see the map of tiny lines etched in the shadows under his eyes. "You know it is."

He nods, runs his other hand along her cheek for a second, then starts walking again. The moment's gone, leaving her shaky and unsure it happened at all.

*
 
After dinner, Simon sits down on the couch to read and she curls up next to him.

"Got a present for you," she says, reaching into her pocket and bringing out the recorder--she bought it a couple months back on Ezra and it wasn't new then, but it still plays good, and what's on it is more important than how it looks, anyway. She lays it on top of the screen of his encyclopedia. "Ain't much but--"

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to. Go on, turn it on." He hits play and music fills the room. "I wanted to thank you again for taking me to the opera. I know--River told me it means a lot to you."

"I--She did?"

"Yeah. Said you used to go with your parents, as a celebration. So were we celebrating something?" She slips her hand into his, twining their fingers together, trying to be encouraging. "You can tell me, you know."

He frowns, which isn't the response she's expecting. "I wasn't. What did River tell you?" As if maybe there are things he don't want her to know, but he won't even tell her that.

"Just what I said--that your parents used to take you for special occasions, and that this," she nods her chin towards the recorder, spilling out an aria from Madama Butterfly, "was your favorite. I wish you'd tell me things like that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said. What else would I mean?" She pulls her hand away and he lets her. "I wish I didn't have to find out from your sister that Madama Butterfly is your favorite opera, or that you don't like green beans, or--"

Now he looks as confused as she feels. "Who said I didn't like green beans?"

"Nobody. I noticed--You didn't eat any when we had them at dinner, and they were fresh, and everything." She stands up, pushes her hair out of her eyes. She can feel herself getting upset and though she doesn't want to, she can't seem to stop it. "Do you? I don't even know if you like green beans or not, Simon. I don't know your favorite color. I don't get your jokes. What kind of girlfriend am I?"

"Blue. My favorite color is blue, and I like green beans just fine." He stands, pulls her into his arms. "You're a fine girlfriend, Kaylee. Why does any of that even matter?"

"Because it does. It should. We should talk more."

"Talk more?" He slides his hands up her arms, then pulls back a bit so he can look her in the eye, give her a little smile. "What do you want to talk about?"

She shrugs herself out of his grip. "You're not taking me seriously."

"I am, Kaylee. I just, I'm not sure what you want to talk about."

"Anything. Everything." Her voice rises. "Why did you take me to the opera?" She don't know why she's fixed on that one question, but maybe if he answers it, tells her something, she'll feel like he understands what she's trying to say.

"I don't--" He shakes his head, pushes a hand through his hair and makes a frustrated noise. "Because I wanted you to see it. Because I miss it. Because it reminds me that there's a whole universe beyond Serenity."

They're both shouting now, while the music still plays in the background.

"Because it means a lot to you?"

"Yes."

"Why is it so hard for you to say that?" Her voice drops to a whisper, and she blinks, trying to hold back the hot tears burning behind her eyes.

"I don't know, Kaylee. I--" He moves forward to hold her again but she waves him away, wiping at her eyes as the tears start falling. "I don't understand. Are you unhappy?"

"I don't--I don't know." She rushes up the stairs and hopes no one else is about 'cause she doesn't want to stop and talk just now. She shimmies down the ladder into her bunk and flings herself onto the bed, sobbing.

When she reaches into her pocket for a tissue, she finds Mal's handkerchief. For some reason she ain't even sure of, it makes her cry more.

*

She don't know how much time passes before she gets up from her bed, feeling like she's suddenly aged a hundred years. She washes her face and scrubs at her hands until they're red and raw, using more water than she probably should. She rubs on some lotion Inara gave her before she left, smells of roses and glides on like silk.

Doesn't hide the fact that there's still grease under her nails, and likely always will be.

"It's a clean sort of dirt," she tells herself with a giggle that feels like it's rising towards hysteria, and that's when she figures out what she's got to do.

She brushes her hair and forces herself up the ladder before she can change her mind. When she pops the hatch, Simon is pacing the corridor in front of her door, looking sheepish.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi."

"I was just--May I--"

"Oh. Yeah." When they're both inside, she says, "I was just coming to see you."

"Oh. Good. I--I wanted to say I was sorry--"

"No, Simon, I was--I wasn't being fair to you. I'm sorry, too."

He cups her cheek with one hand, brushes her hair back with the other. "It's all right, Kaylee. I guess we're still new at this--"

Not that new, she thinks. "I like you a lot, Simon. I do. But I--" She makes herself say it before she loses her nerve. "I'm not sure this is working."

"What?"

"We're like a--what'd you call it?--an oxymoron. We're like contradictory things that don't go together." She takes a shaky breath, but it feels like she's said a true thing.

He shakes his head. "No, Kaylee. No."

"Simon, please, let me finish."

But he keeps talking. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the opera. I'm not very good at...talking about things like that. About anything, really. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to think I wasn't happy here. I didn't want you to think I was missing my old life."

"But you do miss it."

He gives a little shrug. "Sometimes."

"And that's okay. I understand. I know I ain't exactly anything you ever pictured in your future."

"Now you're going to use that to support this crazy theory--"

"It's not crazy, Simon. If this was a fairy story, maybe it would work. The poor girl and the prince would get on fine, because the poor girl would turn out to really be a princess, but I ain't ever gonna be anybody but me, and it's not gonna work."

"I'm not a prince, and you're not--I don't mean to make you feel like you're--"

"I know. I know you don't mean to." She takes his hands, squeezes them tight. "You don't mean it, and I don't mean to feel it, but we do anyway." She shakes her head, sniffles a little.  "We don't fit."

"We fit all right."

"Maybe I want more than all right. Maybe I want you to have more, too. Ain't too much to ask, is it?"

"Kaylee--"

"I know you don't have any other options here, and I'm sorry for that. I am. But I don't want to be your last resort. I deserve better. We both do." He bites his lip. "You know I'm right. Think with that genius brain of yours instead of your ji ba."

"The sex is good," he says finally.

She laughs a little, blinking back tears again. "It is."

"But it's not enough?"

"I--I never thought I'd say so, but I don't think it is. I don't know. I--There's supposed to be more, ain't there?"

"We're friends--"

"We are. We're friends and we have good sex, but...we ain't in love, Simon, are we? Can you honestly look at me and say we are?"

He can't, and they both know it.

"I'm sorry," is what he finally says.

"So am I."

He uses his thumb to wipe a tear off her cheek. "It'll be all right," he says, but she can tell he's asking her if she's all right, and the thing is, when she stops crying, she thinks she will be.

"Yeah," she answers. "It's gonna be all right.

And then he's gone, and she don't know what to do with herself.

So she does what she always does--she goes to the engine room, and lets Serenity's quiet hum soothe her. She fiddles for a bit, though there's nothing urgent that needs doing, and she don't have the focus to start something complicated anyway. Everything she and Simon said is whirling about in her brain and she don't want to think on it, but she can't seem to stop.

"Kaylee? You okay?" She starts at the sound of the captain's voice, but she doesn't turn, and she doesn't answer. "Kaylee?"

"Méi guanxi." She puts a hand on the engine housing, absorbing the vibration, feeling it in her heart, her belly, and down to the soles of her feet. "Just making a few adjustments, is all," she manages.

"You need anything, you let me know." His hand is warm on her shoulder and she closes her eyes, feeling the hot, fat tears slide down her cheeks again, unable to stop them. She turns, presses her face against his chest, and he wraps his arms around her, keeping her safe.

"Oh, Mal," she whispers. "Why don't things work out?"

"You can't make a thing work, Kaylee, ain't no one in the 'verse that could." His mouth is warm against her temple, and she lets herself sink into him, soaking up his strength. She don't understand how he has so much after everything he's lost, that he can share it with her, but he always does. He strokes her hair and rubs her back as she cries, and tells her it's all going to be all right.

When she's finally done crying, she feels like a rag that's been wrung out one too many times. Her head aches and she can't breathe.

"Here you go," he says, holding up a handkerchief to her nose. "Blow."

She laughs then, feeling lighter and easier already, and takes the handkerchief from his hand. She wipes her eyes and blows her nose, and shoves the handkerchief into her pocket. "You always take such good care of me, Cap'n."

"And I always will," he says in a low voice that makes her shiver, promising something more she can't think about just yet. The air between them is charged now, changed from comforting to something else.

She looks up and gets caught in his gaze. "I know," she whispers.

"Good." He brushes away her hair, and leans in. She can feel the soft flutter of his breath and then the press of his lips against her forehead, gentle as a sigh. She closes her eyes and swallows hard. When she opens them, he's walking away, and the air is cold against her skin.

*

After that, everything is mostly all right. Things are awkward between her and Simon for a spell, but she thinks maybe things between her and Simon will always be awkward, no matter what, and better she learned it sooner than later.

She can feel the captain watching her sometimes, 'specially when Simon's around, and he's been coming to the engine room more often, asking her questions about things he never paid much attention to before. She likes being able to teach him things, show him all the things she knows about Serenity that no one else does--just the two of them now, and Serenity herself.  

Simon soon has other things on his mind, anyway. River's started insisting she go on jobs sometimes, and the captain takes her.

"She knows something we don't, it's safer for all of us to listen," he says when Simon argues, and nothing Simon says can change his mind, not when River's determined to go. That don't stop him from worrying though, and she can't really blame him, knowing how their jobs have a habit of not going smooth.

One day, when they're parked on Paquin for a job, his voice comes over the comm, loud and sharp over the sounds of gunfire.

"Kaylee, get up on the bridge, get her started."

She bites back the urge to tell him she can't--she don't know how--because he's got other things to worry about, and she don't want to distract him with her wittering. She sits in Wash's seat and flips the switches, closing her eyes and remembering what Wash used to do.

"Okay, Cap'n," she says, "I've done all I know how to do."

"It's enough," he answers. It'll have to be, she thinks. "We'll be there in less than five minutes."

"Okay."

Few minutes later, they come roaring up the gangplank being chased by some ugly folk with guns, and Kaylee gets out of the way right quick, lets Mal and River do the piloting thing.

When they're far enough away to relax, he comes to see her.

"You did a fine job," he says, reaching out a hand and thumbing the smudge of grease on her cheek. The touch makes her shiver. "Think it's time you learned how to fly this boat, though."

"Cap'n, I--"

He shakes his head, smiles a little. "I ain't expecting miracles, Kaylee, but I want to know you can get her in the air in a hurry if you need to, 'specially if River's gonna be helping out more on the ground."

"Do you think she should?" His smile disappears, and she says, "I just mean--"

"I know what you mean." He touches her face again with the backs of his fingers and she has to swallow hard, aware of how close he is. "But this is her choice. I ain't making her do anything she ain't offered to do, spite of what Simon might think." He cocks his head, curious. "You and Simon all right?"

"I think so. It's a mite awkward but--"

"But you're not sorry it's over." He don't say it like a question, but it feels like he's asking something anyway.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out the way I wanted. I hoped--"

"That's what you do, Kaylee, what makes you special." He puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezes a little, and she feels warm all over, and not just from his words. "You ever stop hoping, I might have to give up on the 'verse altogether."

She puts her hand over his. "Never, Cap'n."

"That's my girl. Tonight, after dinner, up on the bridge." He brushes his thumb against her cheek again, and leaves.

She takes a deep breath and wonders if she can sneak some time in her bunk before dinner.

*

When Kaylee goes to the bridge that evening, River gets up from the co-pilot's seat and walks out. "It's not so hard," she says, smiling. "Listen to Serenity, she'll tell you what to do."

Kaylee moves to the empty seat but Mal says, "No, sit here." He stands and reaches for her hand, guides her into the pilot's seat, still warm from his body. He leans forward over her shoulder and part of her brain--that part that's not popping and fizzing with lust--thinks he must be doing it on purpose, that he knows what he's doing to her, but she can't quite believe it.

"You already know how to start her up," he says, and his voice is low and warm in her ear, his hand sure and steady on the console, touching the switches like a woman he'd like to bed, making her imagine what it'd be like if he was touching her. "Keeping her up is the trick."

"I don't know no higher mathematics," she says doubtfully, trying to concentrate.

"Don't you worry none about the math. That's what the computers are for. I just want you to know the basics."

He talks a little about things like roll, pitch, and yaw, and it makes sense with what she knows about the engine, the thrusters, the gravboot. It all ties together, and she hopes she can remember it if she needs to. Mostly, she hopes she never needs to.

Then he takes her hands, wraps her fingers around the stick, and flips the autopilot off.

"You're flying us now," he says, leaning closer, his chest pressed to her back, his lips against her ear. He's got to feel the way her hands are shaking, with his fingers curled over hers. "Go easy, but firm. Get a feel for what she likes, how she responds." Serenity vibrates under her hands, same rhythm as the engines, only not as concentrated, more like it's spread all over her skin, beating like blood through her body, and his voice purrs in her ear, "You already love her and listen to her, and that's all you really need." And because he believes it, she does, too.

She closes her eyes--ain't like driving on the surface, where there's things to worry 'bout hitting; she knows Mal won't let her steer into a moon--and it's like she is Serenity for a few seconds. Takes her breath away. She wonders if this is how River feels all the time, if it's why Wash took so much joy in flying. Why Mal loves this ship more than life itself.

"That's it," he whispers in her ear. "You're all lit up like a Christmas tree, bâobèi."

She opens her eyes, stares out at the stars in the distance, so bright even though they're so far away, and says, "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," he answers, "it is." But from the way his breath is playing over her cheek, soft and warm as a summer breeze, she can tell he ain't looking out the windscreen.

*

Each night for the next week, there's another lesson. Tonight, it's the navigation systems. Lots of star charts and talk of triangulation, which makes her think of the sextant--the brass cool and solid in her hands, the sun on the horizon, and Mal at her side, always there to lead her home.

"I can see I lost you," he says, which makes her giggle, and she ain't sure she can tell him why, but she tries anyway.

"No, you never have. You always get me home."

He opens and closes his mouth, like he ain't sure what to say to that. Then he smiles. "You do say the nicest things. Like to give a man a swelled head."

She grins back. "Don't worry, Cap'n. That ever happens when you're with me, I know just what to do."

"I bet you do, Kaylee. I bet you do," he says with a wicked low laugh that sets heat rushing through her.

She looks down in confusion then, 'cause he don't usually flirt with her like this, and she thinks maybe he don't really mean it the way it sounds, that maybe she's started indulging in some wishful thinking, like she did when she first came onboard, before he gave her the whole speech about no fraternizing between the captain and the crew. Didn't stop her from thinking on it occasionally, though. Now more than before, even, which means she's been spending quality time with her vibrator since he started up these flying lessons.

He kneels down in front of her, puts a hand under her chin, and tips her face up. "Kaylee? You okay?"

"I didn't know better," she says, serious now, and trying to hide it behind a smile and her hair, "I'd say you were flirting with me, Cap'n."

"That'd be 'cause I am flirting with you, Kaylee. I admit, I'm a little rusty, but I was hoping I was doing it right."

She thinks her heart's near to busting out of her chest, and all she can manage to say is, "Oh."

"That a problem?"

His warm, callused fingers stroking over her cheek make it kind of hard for her to think, and she sounds all out of breath when she says, "No. Not at all. I just...didn't expect it, I guess. I mean, you're the captain and--"

"I know. Breaking all my own rules, ain't I?"

"Are you? I mean, just 'cause we're flirting don't mean--don't have to mean anything, you don't want it to."

"And if I do?" His voice is low, intense, and she knows he ain't teasing now, even if she can't believe she's hearing him right.

She sucks in a breath, and time seems to stop for a second, nothing in the 'verse but him and her and the answer to his question lying somewhere out there beyond the stars.

"It's okay."  He takes his hand away, and she misses it already. "I can wait 'til you figure it out. Took me long enough to figure it out my own self."

"It ain't that I don't think about it," she finally says, trading truth for truth, "but I didn't leave Simon so's I could hop into bed with you. That ain't fair to none of us."

"You're not wrong about that. If all I was looking for was someone to grapple with, could find that any old place, and it'd be a lot less awkward."

"Then why?" she blurts before she can stop herself. "Why me?"

He looks away, and she can see the stars reflected in his eyes, blue and deep as an ocean, all the places she's never been and wants to go someday. All the places he could take her. He looks at her again, brushes her hair off her face, hooks it behind her ear, gentle, like he's afraid he's spooked her.

"The thing about losing is, you start to get used to it, and you forget how to do anything else. Got tired of that. Decided it was time to start remembering. And the first thing I thought was, maybe this could be something more than just a friendly tumble. Something I don't want to lose." His voice is full of something sounds like hope.

"Oh." It ain't even a whisper, barely a breath when she says it,

She thinks about kissing him, leaning close and pressing her mouth to his. Wonders what he tastes like, if he's hot and slick and rough, if he'd burn her up from the inside out, like an engine without core containment. She's falling forward, gravity urging her on, her hands on his shoulders, keeping her anchored no matter what, and she can taste his breath on her lips--coffee and hope and need, secrets he ain't shared with no one else but her, and that makes her chest ache in ways that got nothing to do with the pleasures of the flesh.

He takes her hand, laces their fingers together, and lifts it to his mouth. She closes her eyes and swallows hard at the feel of his lips against her skin, warm and dry but ready to kindle if she gives the word. "You think on it, and let me know what you decide." He drops her hand and gets to his feet, small smile on his face. "I ain't a patient man, pretty Kaylee, but for you, I reckon I can wait." He ruffles her hair, same as he's always done, but now it sends a shiver down her spine, and she thinks she might not keep him waiting so long as all that.

Then he's gone, and she leans back into the chair, exhausted from the tension. She knows how to relieve that, at least. She heads to her bunk, mentally adding batteries to her supply list for the next time they're in the world.

In the morning, he smiles at her, like he heard her, like he knows she was imagining his hands and mouth and body, like he was doing the same thing. She blushes and keeps her eyes on her plate. River giggles, Zoe raises an eyebrow as if she don't need to be a mind reader to know what's going on, and Jayne mutters, "What? Why you all so gorram cheerful this morning?"

But even he can't ruin her good mood.

*

Couple days later, they land on Persephone, and Kaylee sets off for the scrap yard and the market, shopping list in hand. She misses Wash all the time, but more so at times like this--they used to talk while the others were off doing crime, used to shop for parts and talk engines together, and he had a way of looking at things like nobody else she'd ever met. He'd know, better than anyone, what she'd be getting into, seeing as how Zoe and the captain are almost the same person sometimes. But he's gone, and she's got no one else to talk to. Time was, she had a problem, she'd go to Inara or the captain, but in this case....She's just going to have to figure things out on her own. She'd like to think Inara would give her blessing, would want her and the captain both to be happy, spite of whatever happened before. Inara's generous enough that it could be true, and Kaylee hopes it is.

When she gets back, the others are all still out, so she does a little straightening up in the kitchen, putting away the groceries she bought, rotating the cans in the cabinets so the oldest will get used first, washing the dishes Jayne left in the sink after breakfast.

"You oughtn't be cleaning up after Jayne," the captain says, from behind her.

She jumps, startled, and nearly drops the dish in her hand. "You oughtn't go sneaking about and scaring folk," she answers, turning to face him.

"Sorry." He looks a little sheepish, but not for long. "Got something for you." He holds out a small plastic bag and she takes it, feeling her heart beat a little faster when his fingers brush against hers.

She opens it and squeaks when she sees the ripe, red strawberries inside. "Now that just ain't fair," she says, smiling, "trying to turn me up sweet when you know all my weaknesses."

"Good captain uses all available intel to his advantage," he says with a grin. He comes closer. "Is it working?"

He reaches into the bag, takes a strawberry out, and holds it to her lips. She breathes it in, fresh, sweet scent of the fruit making her mouth water, and takes a bite, letting him feed her. She has to lean against the counter, 'cause he's standing so close, hot gaze moving over her like he's running his fingers over her skin. When he looks her in the eye, she can't look away, can't do anything but enjoy the burst of sweetness on her tongue, and the brief taste of salt and skin when her tongue meets his fingers. She swallows hard, feeling a bit of juice dribble down her chin. She gasps when he wipes it away with his thumb, feather-light touch making her shiver, and then licks his thumb clean.

"Might be," she says, her voice husky. He cants toward her and she thinks he's going to kiss her--her lower lip feels swollen, sensitive, as if he's kissed her already, and she wants him to, desperately--when they hear the clatter of feet in the hallway. He pulls back, but not before Simon sees them. She turns back to the sink, dashing at her sticky lips with the back of a shaky hand, face burning in embarrassment.

"When you get those dishes cleaned up," Mal says, voice a little deeper than normal, "meet me in In--shuttle one. You're going to practice taking off and docking."

She has to clear her throat before she can answer, and when she turns back, he's already gone, brushing past Simon towards the bridge.

"So," Simon says. "This is...awkward."

"Simon, I--"

"I suppose it was inevitable. I don't know why I didn't see it sooner."

"There was--is--nothing to see." Then, because she doesn't like lying, "Not yet, anyway." She looks down at her hands, but there's nothing she can say that'll make it better. "I'm sorry." She reaches out a hand.

He flexes his own hand into a fist, then slowly uncurls it and takes hers. "I know. I--hope it works out for you. And I'm not just saying that." His fingers tighten around hers and he laughs a little. "Well, maybe I am, but I'm trying to mean it."

She touches his cheek lightly. "I know. I--Thank you."

*

She's still a little shaky when she gets to Inara's shuttle. They all still stumble over that, though she's been gone for months, and was gone for a while before she came back. It's been cleaned out twice, but the scent of jasmine and sandalwood lingers, and if she closes her eyes, Kaylee can still see the big satin covered bed and the lush velvet hangings, the elegance and beauty of it.

Everything Inara was. Everything she's not.

But she can't think on that now, not if she wants to be able to do what Mal expects her to, and she don't want to disappoint him. She don't ever want to disappoint him.

He's sitting in the pilot's seat, and she gives him a small smile as she slips into the other seat.

"Simon give you any trouble?"

"Nope. He--He's a good guy, Cap'n."

"I reckon." He turns all business then, guides her through the ignition sequence and take-off.

They circle the nearest town a couple times, and he shows her how to bring the shuttle in for a landing. It's a little bumpy, and she still ain't comfortable with the whole piloting thing--probably never will be--but she thinks she can do it if she has to.

They take off again--she does it all by her lonesome this time and after he tells her she done good, he gets real quiet again, talking only to correct her course and make sure she don't forget to pay attention to whatever traffic's in the vicinity, even though there isn't any at the moment.

"Just 'cause it's clear right now don't mean it always will be," he says when she points that out, and she wonders if what he's saying and what he means are the same thing, if there's something more she's supposed to get out of his words, some kind of warning he's giving her, if she can just suss it out.

Then she tells herself to stop being silly--he's not the kind of man who says one thing and means another, always looking to trip a body up with words. She's just looking for trouble. Still and all, it don't hurt to ask.

As they dock the shuttle, home again, safe and sound, she says, "You miss her?"

He's quiet for a long time, and she thinks maybe she shouldn't've asked, maybe he's still in love with Inara, maybe he's rethinking everything he said the other night. Maybe he ain't going to answer at all, or maybe he's going to pretend he don't know what she means.

"Not sure this is the place for this conversation," he says finally. "Come on, let's go." He unfolds himself from the seat and goes to the door. She follows, but when she opens her mouth to press, he says, "Not now," and she shuts up.

He takes her hand and leads her out of the shuttle, off the ship and out into the world, but much as she likes the feel of his hand wrapped round hers, she don't like him trying to put her in her place, not if he means all the other stuff he said.

She stops, pulls her hand free. Digs in her heels.

He turns, puts his hands on his hips, all annoyed impatience, and it ain't fair how good he looks with the sunlight shining on his hair, making his eyes the same color as the sky. "Kaylee--"

"No. No. You don't get to be the captain when we're having this conversation," she says, squinting up at him, brushing her hair out of her eyes.  

He sighs. "Kaylee--"

"You don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but say that."

"It's fine?"

"Yes. No. Not really, but if you just say you don't want to talk about it, that's--that's what partners would do. Giving me orders 'cause you don't want to talk about it ain't fair."

"Partners, huh?" He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head, and she thinks maybe it was the wrong thing to say. Or maybe it was exactly the right thing. End this farce right here, and let her know she was crazy for even hoping it might be true.

"You're the captain, and I'm well aware of that. Happy about it, even. Wouldn't like taking orders from no one else--well, Zoe, maybe, but that ain't the point. The point is, if you want," she can't quite believe she's saying it, "if you want me, and not just a body to rut with, then you've got to realize you ain't the captain here."

"Here?"

She waves a hand between them. "Here. Like this. This ain't business, Mal. This is personal."

He nods. "So it is." He holds a hand out. "Walk with me, Miss Kaylee?" She takes his hand and lets him lead her into the crowded marketplace. "You're gonna have to be patient with me, bâobèi. Too used to giving orders to stop now."

"Ain't saying I wouldn't be willing to take a personal order or two," she says with a grin, enjoying the flash of heat in his eyes, "but you can't just shut me down if we're having a conversation about, you know, feelings."

"Feelings? I hear people have those sometimes."

They stop at the sweet-stand and she orders a lemon ice--"It's refreshing," she says--and he has a vanilla cone--"Got a hankering for something sweet," he tells her, holding her gaze until she shivers, and not just 'cause the ice is cold on her tongue.

They start walking again, and after a few minutes of eating in mostly comfortable silence, he says, "Sometimes I miss her. Sometimes I don't." He takes a deep breath and exhales with a whoosh. "She's family. Part of the crew."

"Yeah." Kaylee holds herself still, afraid if she says more, he'll clam up again.

"But I don't miss the way she made me feel--jealous and angry all the time. Always afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing." He shakes his head. "Spent a lot of time trying to be first on the draw. I ain't proud of it, but it's the truth." He looks over at her, then away again. "Got enough of that out in the 'verse. Don't need it at home, too. Ain't no way for a body to live." He pushes a hand through his hair, and she thinks he looks a little sad, but not devastated or nothing. "I ain't saying I didn't--don't--care for her. I do. I know you still care for Simon. But this--" he waves a hand between them, like she did before, "this is different. It's...peaceful. Got a rightness to it, I think, the other didn't. Makes me feel good to think on it, what it could be like, and I ain't felt that way in...a long time." He looks at her again. "Not that it ain't a little nerve-wracking telling you all this, and you feel free to tell me to shut up any time, 'cause I've never been one for talk about feelings, and I must be boring you right about now--"

"No, I...I'm glad to know. And I understand." She glances over at him, licks her lips nervously, trying to pick the right words. "Sometimes you get a part, good quality, nothing wrong with it its own self, but it don't fit together right with the rest of your engine, and nothing you can do will make it work the way it should. So you get another one, different brand, maybe a little older, a little wear on it, makes it fit better, and the engine runs smooth. Just a question of compatibility."

"Exactly." He gives a little laugh, sounding relieved that she understands, don't think he's crazy. "Some things--some people--seem to fit together better than others, feel like they belong. I've been thinking lately, you and me--we feel like that." He goes quiet, and then, soft, like she ain't supposed to hear, he says, "Like a sweet dream when the long trick's over."

She looks up at him, touches his arm lightly. "That's right poetical."

His mouth curves in a half-grin, like he's a little embarrassed she heard. "I occasionally paid attention in school."

"Oh, I never did," she answers, teasing, easing the tension a mite. "Too many cute boys to look at."

They walk for a few minutes more, quiet but with a comfortableness, an understanding between them, and then he stops. "Here we are."

The shop looks familiar, and when they push into the cool dimness of it, she recognizes the old man behind the counter. He remembers them as well.

"You going to buy the little lady a gift this time?" he asks, smiling.

Mal steers her to the counter, his hand warm on the small of her back. "That's the plan." He points at the tray of jewelry, but Kaylee is peering through the cloudy plexiglass for a gleam of brass, hoping it ain't been sold yet.

"The Changzhou?" she says, and the pawnbroker laughs.

"Told you, there ain't much use for one on a rock like this." He pulls the sextant out and sets it on the counter.

She reaches into her pocket. "We'll take it."

"Kaylee, the plan was for me to buy you a present."

She cocks her head and smiles at him. "Cap'n, don't you know by now that nothing ever goes according to the plan?"

He laughs. "Sometimes I forget." He picks up the sextant, runs his hands over it gently. "You sure about this? Could buy you something real pretty--"

"This is real pretty." She likes the idea of always knowing where she is, and with Mal, with Serenity, she has that.

They haggle a little, 'cause it's expected, and she insists that he let her help pay for it, so it'll be theirs instead of just hers, though she don't tell him that.

She likes having a secret--not just the sextant, which won't be secret for long--but what it means. Makes her feel warm and tingly, though that could also be from the feel of his hand in hers, and all the possibilities opening up in front of them. Same thing, really.

On the walk back to Serenity, he pulls her out of the crowd, spins her against the brick wall of a dress shop. She can see the pretties out of the corner of her eye before he fills her field of vision. She's nervous again--the good kind of nervous she gets when she knows she's going to get lucky, like heat lightning blooming under her skin--as he runs his hands up her arms, over her shoulders, thumbs trailing across her collarbones. Her breath hitches and she raises her face to him. He leans in, closes the distance between them, his lips warm and firm and tasting slightly of vanilla ice cream. She sighs into his mouth and twines her arms around his neck, the feel of his tongue sliding slick-rough against hers setting need rushing through her, liquid heat pooling in her belly, between her thighs.

She presses forward, enjoying the feel of his body, hard and lean, against hers, fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck. He growls low into her mouth--she can feel it vibrate in his chest and it makes her laugh with joy.

He eases back just enough to look down at her, smiling wide. "Been wanting to do that a while now."

"Try not to wait so long to do it again," she answers, pulling him down into another kiss.

"I can see who'll be giving the orders from now on," he says when she lets him up for air.

"My momma always said, begin as you mean to go on."

"Smart woman," he murmurs against her hair. "Have to thank her some time." He moves back again, but stands there looking down at her like he likes what he sees. She's sure her hair is a mess, but her lips are red and wet from his kisses, so she don't really care. "Got a sticky spot right there," he murmurs, touching her chin with the tip of his finger and then reaching into his pocket. He comes up empty. "Seem to be short a handkerchief or two. I wonder why that could be."

She grins, licks her thumb, and scrubs at her chin, then wipes her hand on her coveralls. "I'll see about getting those back to you when the laundry's done."

"No need to rush."

Everyone else is onboard when they get back. Mal checks with Jayne about the cargo and then heads up to the bridge to lay in their course.

Kaylee goes to her bunk. Her laundry sack is sitting in front of the hatch, and she drops it into the room and climbs down after it. Her whole body is tingling and she feels a little lightheaded, like she's been drinking some of that fancy champagne from the opera house. She opens the bag and pulls out the clean handkerchiefs, and then has another thought, naughty thrill racing through her. She tucks them into her pocket and then heads to the engine room to make sure everything is ready for take off.

Next time she sees the captain, it's right before dinner. She sneaks up behind him, slips her arms around his waist, and her hands into his pockets.

"Believe I have something belongs to you," she says, rubbing her cheek against his back for a second, and then pulling away as the others come into the kitchen.

She can't hardly sit still while they eat, and she ain't sure she can stand the wait until he puts his hand in his pocket and finds what she left him, though she knows it could be a while. Dinner's over and he's heading back to the bridge when she sees him reach into his left pocket. He swings around and stares at her for a long moment, eyes wide in surprise, and then his lips curve into a wicked grin. He don't say anything, just turns around and keeps walking, though he starts whistling a jaunty tune she didn't even know he knew.

The rest of the evening is long, every minute feels like an hour, but she knows he's always going to see to Serenity first, make sure everything's in order and running fine, and that's the way it should be. Part of what she loves about him.

She's too distracted to really pay attention to the magazine she's reading, so she sits with River, who giggles and says, "Didn't I tell you? Got a nutcracker of your own now."

That perks Jayne up. "Yeah, you're a real ballbreaker, ain't you?" he says, wandering over from the weight bench. "Captain buy you some kind of weapon this afternoon, Kaylee? You maybe need help learning to use it?"

"What? No. Not a weapon. We bought a sextant."

Jayne looks even more eager at that. "He bought you a sex toy?"

"No, a sextant," she says.

"It's an instrument that measures longitude and latitude via the position of celestial bodies," River says.

"Oh." Jayne frowns in confusion. "What in hell would he do that for?"

"Because she wanted it," River says, though Kaylee wants to hug that knowledge to herself just now, not ready yet for everyone else to know.

"Gorram captain's pet," he mutters, losing interest and walking away.

Time goes a little faster after that--eventually, River stretches and yawns, and Kaylee takes that opportunity to say good night and head to her bunk. She thinks she might vibrate right out of her skin with want, with anticipation. She washes her face and brushes her hair and changes into the t-shirt she sleeps in, but she ain't quite ready to get into bed yet.

Next move's in Mal's hands, and she hopes he don't think of some crazy reason not to act now.

She's just about ready to go looking for him when the hatch opens and he comes down the ladder.

"Thanks for returning my handkerchiefs," he says, smiling. "Funny thing about that--found these in my pocket, too." He pulls out the pair of knickers she'd slipped him--blue and lacy, the kind of thing she buys herself when she wants to feel pretty. "Call me crazy, but I thought it might be some kind of invitation."

She hooks her fingers in the waistband of his pants and pulls him close, giving him her best come-hither smile. "You think?"

"I surely do," he murmurs, and leans in to kiss her.

end

~*~

The line "a sweet dream when the long trick's over" is from Sea-Fever by John Masefield.

~*~

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Disclaimer: All Firefly characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. This piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.

 

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