aim_to_misbehave: (Mal Grace Is Gone)
[personal profile] aim_to_misbehave
Mal had beaten his breast and gave voice to his grief more oft than not during the war when losing a comrade or a battle. There weren’t no shame in it...when war ripped men apart, it made a man no less a man to show it in the right place and at the right time. Tears shed over a fallen comrade, nightmares as you slept in a foxhole, so long as you kept quiet...weaknesses like fear, grief, and pain were valuable. Reminded a body that it was still human.

But after enough time, tears can dry up. Voices give out.

And Mal’s grief had done that a long time ago.

He sat on the bridge in Wash’s chair with the Shepherd’s Bible in his hands, feeling a sad, lonely stillness he knew far too well. It was the feeling left behind by too much grief...when you could no longer rage against sorrow, only mourn and let the pain come. All he had left was the sad, lonely quiet inside him...the one tears would never touch, and voices raised in anguish would never echo.

Turning to the side, Mal spun slowly in Wash’s chair and leaned over, setting the Bible on the edge of the console, right next to Wash’s favorite plastic dinosaur...the triceratops, if he weren’t mistaken. It looked right there...like it belonged.

Just like Book belonged...even his religiosity had a place on Serenity, if only to be bothersome and melancholy-making to Mal. More often than not, Mal missed every scrap of the faith-minded stuff but most always took something away worth chewing on a spell. It was that what gave the man Mal’s respect...he offered something to all the masses, even men like him who had their faith stripped away along with their hope and ideals.

Wash...Wash was a part of Serenity. Had been near since the day he set foot on board. The ship took to him, and he to her...a marriage even more perfect than the one he had with Zoe. He regretted not saying a lot of things to Wash...like how he was glad he’d married Zoe, regardless of him not wanting it at the start.

Shaking off his thoughts, Mal stooped to pick up the small bottle of sake he’d brought with him, along with a cup. He wasn’t sure if they’d approve, Wash and Book...but tears were bitter as any booze, so it only seemed fitting what with the fact that Mal could shed none.

So in the silence of the bridge, he poured himself a cup of sake and drank a silent toast to two fallen soldiers...and two of the finest gorram friends a man could ever dream to have.

Muse: Malcolm Reynolds
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Words: 459
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Captain Malcolm Reynolds

February 2011

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