simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's midmorning in Logan City on Praxed -- early afternoon, ship's time -- when Serenity touches down at the spacedocks. There's supplies to take on, and cargo to unload ... and two members of the crew to go ashore.

Simon and Kaylee are standing by the gangplank, next to the float pallet bearing their luggage. They've put in a call for a rental skimmer; it should be here sometime in the next twenty minutes.

This isn't goodbye forever. But it's still goodbye.

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There really isn't. Or at least no scenario that Simon wants to contemplate.

He hugs Wash back, brief but tight.

Just to ensure the hug stays at appropriate levels of semi-manliness, Wash gives Simon a pat on the back before pulling away.

"Okay," he exhales. "If I leave without saying good-bye to your wife, she's gonna punch me, so I'd better go do that to avoid any black eyes or other unsightly bruising. Take care of yourself." He points to him. "And I'm not kidding about those visits, I've got a three-year-old and I'm not afraid to use her."

And about fifteen feet away, Kaylee comes down with one more bag for the pallet. Down it goes; she rubs at her forehead like it hurts.

It'd be easier if the rental would just get here.

Edited 2010-01-14 04:47 (UTC)

Wash is kinda glad it hasn't.

He turns, and his expression brightens before he heads pallet- and bruise-free words. "Kaylee?"

She glances up -- and there's that same crooked smile everybody's gotten today. "Yeah?"

"Say I wanted to give you a dinosaur as a parting gift."

This is a Very Serious Question, clearly. He folds his arms, cocking an eyebrow.

"Stegosaurus or pterodactyl, and pink and sparkly or normal?"

So much for the crooked smile.

"Don't they belong on the bridge?"

Shifty glance left. Shifty glance right.

"Mmmmmaybe." Firm, "But only the non-stegosaurus, non-pterodactyl ones."

This is going to get awkward.

After just a little too long, Kaylee puts on a smile. "Reckon I'll leave it up to your judgment."

It's sort of like one of those inverse proportion problems: as Kaylee's smile shows up, Wash's starts to falter a little.

"Or I could just hug you," he offers, a little more tentative than he means it to be. "Hugs work, too. They can work, right?"

"Shi a. -- but before we get into all that. I'm leavin' my pad behind, it's got all the reports and priority lists right on it, and I know it's kind of on its last legs so I made backups and I'm keepin' a set, just in case. And captain don't know I'm leavin' the whole pad, it's on the ledge just inside, back in the engine room -- he's got his own set of backups so he oughtn't to ask for yours but he probably will."

Because the faster you talk, the less likely it is that something will happen to trip you up. Like any honest display of emotion.

"Kaylee, that's not even -- "

Beat.

"Okay it is and xiexie ni that's going to be a big help especially when Mal comes around jangling a coffee can and going 'please sir may I have some backups,' but -- " He cycles his hands, looking perilously close to floundering. "If you want to say good-bye in ways not involving work and jobs and other wacky things like that, you're allowed?"

He wasn't trying to make that last sentence sound like a question. Crap.

Kaylee's jaw sets.

I can't snap. I can't do that. Not right now.

She jams her hands in her pockets.

"Thanks for the information, Wash." She's trying to keep it neutral. "Wasn't aware, and all."

"...Yeah. Okay."

He looks down, rubbing the back of his head.

(He'd been hoping it wouldn't go like this. Talking to Kaylee's been feeling more and more like tiptoeing around on eggshells -- has been for a while -- and let's face it: Wash? Not exactly a tiptoeing kind of guy.)

"Well."

"Guess I don't have to tell you to take care of her."

"'Course I will."

He peeks up at her, head still mostly bent, and chances another smile, tiny and hopeful.

"Always have, best as I could."

"She's in good hands." And Kaylee tries for another smile, thinking all the while, this is like every bad vid ever made. "Reckon I know that much."

Not as good as the ones leaving us, he really, really wants to say.

And he'd mean it as a compliment, but: eggshells. So he doesn't.

"So long as Jayne doesn't get promoted, anyway," is what he offers instead, lightly. When in doubt, make fun of the mercenary. "For the sake of us all I will stand staunchly against any promoting."

She raises her eyebrows. "I'm leaving captain the blowtorch. You got my permission to requisition it, if it comes to that."

The tentative smile firms up. Wash sketches out a salute with two fingers.

Cheerily -- almost gleefully, even -- "Sir yes sir."

Because, seriously. Blowtorch.

"...think I should put that in writing?"

Shifty Glance II: Electric Boogaloo ensues.

"Couldn't hurt. If there's time."

Kaylee glances past him into the cargo bay. "Won't take five minutes."

Wash beams like it's Christmas morning.

And then, chancing a toe out onto those eggshells, "Is there anything else you need help getting in there?"

She shakes her head, nods at the pallet. "Everything's right there. We're good."