(LFN/FF) To the Black (2/4)
Please see the To the Black Chapter Guide for story details including summary, warnings, disclaimers, etc. Chapters upped to four due to length of rambliness. *points to journal name*
Part One
To the Black
Part Two
Madeline doesn't look back toward Paquin and Section as the rickety Firefly soars off into the Black, and she doesn't seek out the stars that lie ahead. She's been in space so many times in her life that it's nothing new or exciting.
And yet... this time is different, somehow. Traveling without a destination, without the constant tinny voice in her ear of someone monitoring her every move from Comm or the knowledge that at the end of the journey a transport ship will be waiting somewhere nearby to bring her home, is both exhilarating and disconcerting, and neither feeling is the least bit productive or even acceptable right now. Forcing all of it out of her mind, she focuses instead on the steady thrumming of the engine overhead and the way the ship's shaking comes to an end as they break atmo and level out. That part, at least, is familiar.
It only takes her ten minutes to decide that this is officially the worst transport ship in existent. Well, perhaps not the worst; she'd been on some of the transports used during the war to smuggle people from one planet to another under Alliance radar, after all. But those trips had at least been free. If it weren't for the fact that all of her money is being funneled out of Section anyway, she'd be offended; a lumpy, uncomfortable mattress, a single towel, a bar of soap, and a tiny bottle of shampoo that looks as though it will do rather unfortunate things to her hair are not exactly what she would call amenities.
It's only for eight days, she reminds herself as she begins to inspect her room-the captain didn't seem the sort to bug his passenger dorms, but then, one could never be too careful. Eight days I can handle.
She pulls the mattress off the frame just in time for the ship to jerk suddenly to one side, then level out again, nearly knocking her to the floor. Dropping the mattress back into place, she sinks onto the edge of the bed with a resigned sigh.
Well. She’s fairly certain she can handle eight days, anyway.
*
"I've never been to the Core," Kaylee announces as Madeline sits down to dinner with the crew of Serenity a few hours later. ‘Crew’ is really only a loose term for it; they’re a ragtag group of four-two ex-Browncoats, a pilot with a ridiculous mustache, and a mechanic that’s little more than a child-flying around the edges of the solar system, keeping their ship held together with, as far as Madeline can tell, duct tape, hope, and no small amount of stubbornness.
Kaylee, Madeline has already decided, is possibly more irritating than even Nikita. She's a veritable ray of sunshine, chipper and easily excitable, the sort of person that gets on Madeline's nerves almost instantly because... well, honestly. Anyone who finds reason to be that cheerful all the time is probably guilty of so much self-delusion that it makes Madeline’s head ache just considering it. The second in command, Zoe... Madeline's not really sure what to think of her yet. It'd help if she'd have said a single thing besides, "Glad to have you aboard," before focusing all of her attention on her food.
"Athens ain’t the Core," the captain-Malcolm Reynolds, she’s learned-replies with a smirk, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Not even close, actually."
"Well, I know that," Kaylee replied, waving her own fork around enough to send bits of the cardboard-flavored protein flying. "But we're gonna be close, right? I mean, maybe we could jus'… you know, stop off on-"
"No," Captain Reynolds interrupts sternly. "Ain't nothing out that way for people like us. Bunch of rich folks and feds. No offence meant, of course," he says as an afterthought in Madeline's direction, and she just gives him a bland smile and returns to her meal. "Doubtful they'd even let Serenity dock on their pretty little central planets," he adds, then shovels another forkful of food into his mouth before continuing, “Besides, Athens is only a quick stop for food and the like. Need to be on Whitefall in eleven days.”
“Are you travelin’ to Whitefall with us, Madeline?” Kaylee asks curiously. “Or are getting’ off at Athens?”
Madeline considers the question for a moment, poking disinterestedly at the flavorless, bark-like food on her plate before answering truthfully, “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Where’re you headed? Back home?”
At Madeline’s silent stare and arched eyebrow, Kaylee blushes and stammers, “It’s just, you don’ seem like your from my end of the ‘verse or nothin’.”
With a slight inclination of her head, Madeline answers both the question and the statement simultaneously with a simple, “Not quite, no.”
"So, Wash," the captain interrupts, "eight days to Athens, is it?"
Madeline glances up toward the head of the table, catching the captain's eye briefly. The obvious change in subject seems to suggest that he’s the sort of man that doesn’t believe in prying into the private lives of others, which could work to her advantage, but also leads her to assume that he has secrets of his own, which is… a concern. One that she’s not really in any position to research further.
The lack of proper access to the Alliance and Section data files, she decides, is her least favorite thing about living on the outside.
Well, her least favorite thing of the moment, anyway. It’s changed four times since dinner began, and two of the previous ones had been to do with the food.
“Um, yeah, eight,” Wash answers awkwardly after a moment, sending a wink Kaylee’s way, which does something to lessen the girl’s put-out expression. Zoe just shakes her head at all of them, and the rest of the meal passes in a vaguely uncomfortable silence-which is, Madeline thinks, decidedly preferable.
~
Wash doesn’t exactly spend the entire half hour he’s at the dinner table thinking about Madeline.
Really.
Okay, so he spends about twenty-two minutes thinking about Madeline. And maybe staring a bit. Unobtrusively, of course. Seven of the remaining minutes are spent staring at Zoe even less noticeably-force of habit, even if it’s pointless-and the remaining minute is used to cheer up Kaylee, who takes a while to catch on to the fact that Madeline is not exactly what could be considered chatty. Poor kid; Wash wonders just how she’ll make her place here, among a bunch of people twice her age and not nearly so cheerful and talkative. He’ll help where he can, he decides. He doesn’t particularly want her to leave; so far, she’s already proven herself to be twice the mechanic Bester was, and every pilot knows that even a great ship is worthless without a capable mechanic. Serenity… well, Wash has loved this boat ever since he set foot inside her, but she's not exactly at her best these days. Kind of like the rest of them. She needs all the care and love she can get.
Of course, that all may have to take a back seat to getting Madeline’s attention, if she might only be around until Athens. Usually the being-a-pilot thing wins him a few points with the ladies, but she’s not exactly your average woman, he’s pretty sure, and she hasn’t really seemed to spare him a second thought.
Kinda depressing, actually.
He doesn't see much of her after dinner-she retreats to the passenger dorms the minute she's finished eating-and by the time he heads for bed, he's just about given up hope for the night.
And then he remembers that he left some of his dinosaurs scattered around the bridge-Mal hates that, and he's usually up earlier than Wash-and so he heads back up the ladder, poking his head into the hallway just in time to see Madeline close the door of the bridge behind her.
Frowning and wondering if, all things considered, he should go get Mal or Zoe, he ultimately decides instead to just go see what's going on. After all, she seemed nice enough, if kinda intimidating. What's the worst that she could be up to?
*
Madeline hears the hatch open just as she's stepping onto the bridge, and she only bothers to close the door to buy herself a moment of time to tuck the wave panel she's carrying into a shadow before settling herself into one of the pilots' chairs and staring out into the Black. Footsteps draw closer, and when the door opens a moment later, Madeline turns the chair to see who's standing behind her, feigning surprise and letting a fake blush of guilt and embarrassment at being caught stain her expression for a moment before she turns back to the stars.
"Whatcha looking at?" Wash asks curiously after a moment, moving to sit in the chair opposite hers, peering out the window as if there's anything to see besides the unending darkness and the stars twinkling in the distance.
She offers him a vague smile and a barely-noticeable shrug. "Nothing exciting."
Wash laughs. "Yeah, not much to be excited about, out this far. It all kind of looks the same after a while."
When Madeline only nods, he waits a moment, then says, "So… not that I particularly mind, but the captain has this thing about people being on the bridge that aren't part of the crew…. I mean, I'd let you stay up here all day, but without a good reason, Mal would probably shoot me…" Apology is written all over his face, and Madeline almost just gets up and leaves, but as he starts rambling on about how the previous mechanic got fired for, as far as Wash can tell, simply having Kaylee in the engine room, the opportunity of the situation at hand gives Madeline pause.
Of all the people to have on her side right now, she could do worse than the overly-talkative, overly-friendly, obviously-attracted-to-her pilot. The captain is something of a mystery, and Zoe even more so, and Kaylee grates on her nerves too much for Madeline to even consider spending more time than is absolutely necessary with the girl… but as an ally and unwitting source of information, Wash will be perfect.
And besides, this is all, in a way, sort of like an extended vacation-something her life has never previously allowed. She may as well have a little fun.
"I was looking for you," she tells him, answering his unasked question, and he stills, his eyes widening.
"Oh?" he manages after a moment, and the slightly mischievous smirk that finds its way onto her lips isn’t entirely an act.
Standing up, she leans over his chair before he has the chance to do the same, her hand resting on the arms of the chair, trapping him in his seat. He looks as though he can't decide whether to be nervous or thrilled. "Yes," she answers pointedly, leaning closer, stopping a hair's breadth away from him before adding, "But if you'd like me to go…."
"No, no," he says quickly, seeming to settle on 'thrilled', but then he frowns. "Well, yes. I mean, no, but… can we, um, maybe take this somewhere else? I kinda like my job and all, and…."
Madeline sighs and steps back, letting him excitedly lead the way. He hovers indecisively outside the hatch to his room for a moment, seemingly unable to decide whether to go inside or instead head for the passenger dorms, looking from the open hatch to her and back again.
"I can handle a ladder, you know," she points out in mild exasperation, moving past him and making her way down into his room, despite his muttered protest of, "That's not really-I mean-um, okay?"
Wash's room, as it turns out, is a complete disaster. There's mounds of… stuff piled on every available surface and gathering dust in the corners. It doesn't smell so great, either. Madeline takes it all in, frowning, and Wash scurries down the ladder after her, grinning sheepishly.
"I don’t usually have guests," he says with an embarrassed shrug, gathering a few things off of the bed and casting around for somewhere to put them before giving up and just adding them to the pile of clothes in the corner.
"I'm not all that interested in the room," Madeline replies, avoiding touching much of anything nonetheless, and as she stepped over scattered papers and-plastic dinosaurs? Really?-Wash's eyes lit up with what could only be described as pure glee.
*
Roughly an hour and a half later, Wash announces cheerfully, "I love today."
Madeline turns her head to give him a faintly incredulous look, and he shrugs. "What? We got off Paquin-no offense to your planet, but it's not exactly exciting or anything-and brought this really hot woman with us, and now she's in my bed. In my bed and naked, I might add. And she just had sex with me." He nods to himself, shrugging again. "Best day ever."
Rolling her eyes, Madeline looks around the room for a minute, finally finds her dress lying in a heap at the bottom of the ladder, and gets out of bed to get it. Wash immediately goes from thrilled to concerned.
"Um, you're leaving?" He moves to get up, but stops when she frowns at him. "I can shut up, if you want. I mean, I know, I talk a lot, but with the proper motivation-and believe me, you don't get much more motivating than this-I can stop talking. I can even… right, I'm shutting up." Despite the sudden silence, he keeps up with pleading look, and Madeline just shakes her head.
"I'm going to the bathroom," she explains in exasperation, heading for the ladder.
"Oh." He points toward a handle on the wall. "Drawer over there."
Unable to keep herself from shooting him a look that suggests she questions his intelligence, she just says, "I'll be back in a few minutes." Pressing a hand against his chest to push him back against the bed, she leans close, bypassing his mouth entirely and brushing her lips against his ear as she adds, "Don't move until I get back."
Nodding and looking as though he wouldn't have dreamed of leaving his bed as long as he knew she was coming back to it anyway, he settles himself back among the blankets as she again heads for the ladder.
Once in the hallway, Madeline shuts the hatch to Wash's room and looks around, making sure that no one else is awake and wandering the ship at this hour. She doesn't see anyone, and so instead of heading back toward the passenger dorms, she makes her way toward the bridge, closing the door behind her and retrieving her panel from its hiding place. She doesn't have much time, but some part of her has been craving information from Section all day, and she won't get another opportunity for at least twenty-two hours-practically a lifetime, considering how quickly things inside Section can change. Sliding the panel into an empty slot in the console, she taps at a few keys, entering in this password and that until she's accessing Section's databases undetected.
It only takes a couple minutes for her to ascertain that nothing 'verse-shattering has happened since she's been gone. A few personnel changes, yes, but Section's still standing, if nothing else. With Nikita calling the shots, Madeline can't say she hadn't considered the possibility that everything would have fallen to hell in the space of the last thirty-five hours.
With a few minutes to spare, Madeline hesitates for only the briefest of seconds before tapping into the security feed of the Perch. The room is dark and empty. Of course it is; it's two a.m. on Paquin. Paul is probably sleeping right now, as well he should be. Really, so should she.
Skipping past the security feeds from a series of empty hallways, she pauses at Comm for a second, then continues on, stopping when she gets to her office. Mild annoyance races through her at the sight of all of the fluorescent lights still shining brightly-the last thing on her mind when she'd left had been her plants, after all, and she'd realized, on some level, that they'd all die or be thrown away long before she could ever consider returning, but the waste of years' worth of work is frustrating nonetheless-but that irritation is forgotten in an instant at the sight of a lone figure sitting on the floor.
Paul. Of course. Who, it appears, isn't even close to being asleep right now.
She stares for a moment, unable to make herself move on to the next screen. He's just… sitting there, leaning against the wall opposite the glaring lights, and the picture isn't the clearest in the world, but if she had to guess, she'd say that despite the display in front of him, he isn't seeing bonsai and orchids at all. He lets his head drop back against the wall, opting to stare at the ceiling instead, and he looks so very… defeated.
Madeline remembers a time, years ago, when he'd been shot, and she'd leaned over his bed in Medical, his cheek cool beneath her fingertips as she'd ordered him to live, willing him to hear her and obey. For the briefest of seconds she wishes, irrationally, that she could do that same thing right now-and just as quickly she rolls her eyes at herself in disgust and snatches her hand away from the monitor, clicking out the commands to cut off the connection to Section and wipe away all evidence of her having been poking around in the first place.
She removes the wave panel from its slot and looks around, finally settling on hiding it among some wiring in the underside of the navigation console. If her movements are more hasty than usual and her hands shake slightly as she steps out into the hallway, it's only because she hasn't slept in nearly two days and she's so very, very tired. Only that, and nothing more.
She nearly passes Wash's door entirely, wanting nothing more than to just go to bed. But her shoes-not to mention her underwear-are still down there somewhere, and he'd probably just come looking for her at some point (or, worse, be incredibly awkward to be around in the morning), and besides, whether she wants to admit it or not, this is one of those rare nights when she'll take all of the distractions she can get.
Besides, she thinks, justifying her actions to herself out of habit more than anything else, in all that mess down there, maybe I can find some decent shampoo.
Part One
To the Black
Part Two
Madeline doesn't look back toward Paquin and Section as the rickety Firefly soars off into the Black, and she doesn't seek out the stars that lie ahead. She's been in space so many times in her life that it's nothing new or exciting.
And yet... this time is different, somehow. Traveling without a destination, without the constant tinny voice in her ear of someone monitoring her every move from Comm or the knowledge that at the end of the journey a transport ship will be waiting somewhere nearby to bring her home, is both exhilarating and disconcerting, and neither feeling is the least bit productive or even acceptable right now. Forcing all of it out of her mind, she focuses instead on the steady thrumming of the engine overhead and the way the ship's shaking comes to an end as they break atmo and level out. That part, at least, is familiar.
It only takes her ten minutes to decide that this is officially the worst transport ship in existent. Well, perhaps not the worst; she'd been on some of the transports used during the war to smuggle people from one planet to another under Alliance radar, after all. But those trips had at least been free. If it weren't for the fact that all of her money is being funneled out of Section anyway, she'd be offended; a lumpy, uncomfortable mattress, a single towel, a bar of soap, and a tiny bottle of shampoo that looks as though it will do rather unfortunate things to her hair are not exactly what she would call amenities.
It's only for eight days, she reminds herself as she begins to inspect her room-the captain didn't seem the sort to bug his passenger dorms, but then, one could never be too careful. Eight days I can handle.
She pulls the mattress off the frame just in time for the ship to jerk suddenly to one side, then level out again, nearly knocking her to the floor. Dropping the mattress back into place, she sinks onto the edge of the bed with a resigned sigh.
Well. She’s fairly certain she can handle eight days, anyway.
*
"I've never been to the Core," Kaylee announces as Madeline sits down to dinner with the crew of Serenity a few hours later. ‘Crew’ is really only a loose term for it; they’re a ragtag group of four-two ex-Browncoats, a pilot with a ridiculous mustache, and a mechanic that’s little more than a child-flying around the edges of the solar system, keeping their ship held together with, as far as Madeline can tell, duct tape, hope, and no small amount of stubbornness.
Kaylee, Madeline has already decided, is possibly more irritating than even Nikita. She's a veritable ray of sunshine, chipper and easily excitable, the sort of person that gets on Madeline's nerves almost instantly because... well, honestly. Anyone who finds reason to be that cheerful all the time is probably guilty of so much self-delusion that it makes Madeline’s head ache just considering it. The second in command, Zoe... Madeline's not really sure what to think of her yet. It'd help if she'd have said a single thing besides, "Glad to have you aboard," before focusing all of her attention on her food.
"Athens ain’t the Core," the captain-Malcolm Reynolds, she’s learned-replies with a smirk, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Not even close, actually."
"Well, I know that," Kaylee replied, waving her own fork around enough to send bits of the cardboard-flavored protein flying. "But we're gonna be close, right? I mean, maybe we could jus'… you know, stop off on-"
"No," Captain Reynolds interrupts sternly. "Ain't nothing out that way for people like us. Bunch of rich folks and feds. No offence meant, of course," he says as an afterthought in Madeline's direction, and she just gives him a bland smile and returns to her meal. "Doubtful they'd even let Serenity dock on their pretty little central planets," he adds, then shovels another forkful of food into his mouth before continuing, “Besides, Athens is only a quick stop for food and the like. Need to be on Whitefall in eleven days.”
“Are you travelin’ to Whitefall with us, Madeline?” Kaylee asks curiously. “Or are getting’ off at Athens?”
Madeline considers the question for a moment, poking disinterestedly at the flavorless, bark-like food on her plate before answering truthfully, “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Where’re you headed? Back home?”
At Madeline’s silent stare and arched eyebrow, Kaylee blushes and stammers, “It’s just, you don’ seem like your from my end of the ‘verse or nothin’.”
With a slight inclination of her head, Madeline answers both the question and the statement simultaneously with a simple, “Not quite, no.”
"So, Wash," the captain interrupts, "eight days to Athens, is it?"
Madeline glances up toward the head of the table, catching the captain's eye briefly. The obvious change in subject seems to suggest that he’s the sort of man that doesn’t believe in prying into the private lives of others, which could work to her advantage, but also leads her to assume that he has secrets of his own, which is… a concern. One that she’s not really in any position to research further.
The lack of proper access to the Alliance and Section data files, she decides, is her least favorite thing about living on the outside.
Well, her least favorite thing of the moment, anyway. It’s changed four times since dinner began, and two of the previous ones had been to do with the food.
“Um, yeah, eight,” Wash answers awkwardly after a moment, sending a wink Kaylee’s way, which does something to lessen the girl’s put-out expression. Zoe just shakes her head at all of them, and the rest of the meal passes in a vaguely uncomfortable silence-which is, Madeline thinks, decidedly preferable.
~
Wash doesn’t exactly spend the entire half hour he’s at the dinner table thinking about Madeline.
Really.
Okay, so he spends about twenty-two minutes thinking about Madeline. And maybe staring a bit. Unobtrusively, of course. Seven of the remaining minutes are spent staring at Zoe even less noticeably-force of habit, even if it’s pointless-and the remaining minute is used to cheer up Kaylee, who takes a while to catch on to the fact that Madeline is not exactly what could be considered chatty. Poor kid; Wash wonders just how she’ll make her place here, among a bunch of people twice her age and not nearly so cheerful and talkative. He’ll help where he can, he decides. He doesn’t particularly want her to leave; so far, she’s already proven herself to be twice the mechanic Bester was, and every pilot knows that even a great ship is worthless without a capable mechanic. Serenity… well, Wash has loved this boat ever since he set foot inside her, but she's not exactly at her best these days. Kind of like the rest of them. She needs all the care and love she can get.
Of course, that all may have to take a back seat to getting Madeline’s attention, if she might only be around until Athens. Usually the being-a-pilot thing wins him a few points with the ladies, but she’s not exactly your average woman, he’s pretty sure, and she hasn’t really seemed to spare him a second thought.
Kinda depressing, actually.
He doesn't see much of her after dinner-she retreats to the passenger dorms the minute she's finished eating-and by the time he heads for bed, he's just about given up hope for the night.
And then he remembers that he left some of his dinosaurs scattered around the bridge-Mal hates that, and he's usually up earlier than Wash-and so he heads back up the ladder, poking his head into the hallway just in time to see Madeline close the door of the bridge behind her.
Frowning and wondering if, all things considered, he should go get Mal or Zoe, he ultimately decides instead to just go see what's going on. After all, she seemed nice enough, if kinda intimidating. What's the worst that she could be up to?
*
Madeline hears the hatch open just as she's stepping onto the bridge, and she only bothers to close the door to buy herself a moment of time to tuck the wave panel she's carrying into a shadow before settling herself into one of the pilots' chairs and staring out into the Black. Footsteps draw closer, and when the door opens a moment later, Madeline turns the chair to see who's standing behind her, feigning surprise and letting a fake blush of guilt and embarrassment at being caught stain her expression for a moment before she turns back to the stars.
"Whatcha looking at?" Wash asks curiously after a moment, moving to sit in the chair opposite hers, peering out the window as if there's anything to see besides the unending darkness and the stars twinkling in the distance.
She offers him a vague smile and a barely-noticeable shrug. "Nothing exciting."
Wash laughs. "Yeah, not much to be excited about, out this far. It all kind of looks the same after a while."
When Madeline only nods, he waits a moment, then says, "So… not that I particularly mind, but the captain has this thing about people being on the bridge that aren't part of the crew…. I mean, I'd let you stay up here all day, but without a good reason, Mal would probably shoot me…" Apology is written all over his face, and Madeline almost just gets up and leaves, but as he starts rambling on about how the previous mechanic got fired for, as far as Wash can tell, simply having Kaylee in the engine room, the opportunity of the situation at hand gives Madeline pause.
Of all the people to have on her side right now, she could do worse than the overly-talkative, overly-friendly, obviously-attracted-to-her pilot. The captain is something of a mystery, and Zoe even more so, and Kaylee grates on her nerves too much for Madeline to even consider spending more time than is absolutely necessary with the girl… but as an ally and unwitting source of information, Wash will be perfect.
And besides, this is all, in a way, sort of like an extended vacation-something her life has never previously allowed. She may as well have a little fun.
"I was looking for you," she tells him, answering his unasked question, and he stills, his eyes widening.
"Oh?" he manages after a moment, and the slightly mischievous smirk that finds its way onto her lips isn’t entirely an act.
Standing up, she leans over his chair before he has the chance to do the same, her hand resting on the arms of the chair, trapping him in his seat. He looks as though he can't decide whether to be nervous or thrilled. "Yes," she answers pointedly, leaning closer, stopping a hair's breadth away from him before adding, "But if you'd like me to go…."
"No, no," he says quickly, seeming to settle on 'thrilled', but then he frowns. "Well, yes. I mean, no, but… can we, um, maybe take this somewhere else? I kinda like my job and all, and…."
Madeline sighs and steps back, letting him excitedly lead the way. He hovers indecisively outside the hatch to his room for a moment, seemingly unable to decide whether to go inside or instead head for the passenger dorms, looking from the open hatch to her and back again.
"I can handle a ladder, you know," she points out in mild exasperation, moving past him and making her way down into his room, despite his muttered protest of, "That's not really-I mean-um, okay?"
Wash's room, as it turns out, is a complete disaster. There's mounds of… stuff piled on every available surface and gathering dust in the corners. It doesn't smell so great, either. Madeline takes it all in, frowning, and Wash scurries down the ladder after her, grinning sheepishly.
"I don’t usually have guests," he says with an embarrassed shrug, gathering a few things off of the bed and casting around for somewhere to put them before giving up and just adding them to the pile of clothes in the corner.
"I'm not all that interested in the room," Madeline replies, avoiding touching much of anything nonetheless, and as she stepped over scattered papers and-plastic dinosaurs? Really?-Wash's eyes lit up with what could only be described as pure glee.
*
Roughly an hour and a half later, Wash announces cheerfully, "I love today."
Madeline turns her head to give him a faintly incredulous look, and he shrugs. "What? We got off Paquin-no offense to your planet, but it's not exactly exciting or anything-and brought this really hot woman with us, and now she's in my bed. In my bed and naked, I might add. And she just had sex with me." He nods to himself, shrugging again. "Best day ever."
Rolling her eyes, Madeline looks around the room for a minute, finally finds her dress lying in a heap at the bottom of the ladder, and gets out of bed to get it. Wash immediately goes from thrilled to concerned.
"Um, you're leaving?" He moves to get up, but stops when she frowns at him. "I can shut up, if you want. I mean, I know, I talk a lot, but with the proper motivation-and believe me, you don't get much more motivating than this-I can stop talking. I can even… right, I'm shutting up." Despite the sudden silence, he keeps up with pleading look, and Madeline just shakes her head.
"I'm going to the bathroom," she explains in exasperation, heading for the ladder.
"Oh." He points toward a handle on the wall. "Drawer over there."
Unable to keep herself from shooting him a look that suggests she questions his intelligence, she just says, "I'll be back in a few minutes." Pressing a hand against his chest to push him back against the bed, she leans close, bypassing his mouth entirely and brushing her lips against his ear as she adds, "Don't move until I get back."
Nodding and looking as though he wouldn't have dreamed of leaving his bed as long as he knew she was coming back to it anyway, he settles himself back among the blankets as she again heads for the ladder.
Once in the hallway, Madeline shuts the hatch to Wash's room and looks around, making sure that no one else is awake and wandering the ship at this hour. She doesn't see anyone, and so instead of heading back toward the passenger dorms, she makes her way toward the bridge, closing the door behind her and retrieving her panel from its hiding place. She doesn't have much time, but some part of her has been craving information from Section all day, and she won't get another opportunity for at least twenty-two hours-practically a lifetime, considering how quickly things inside Section can change. Sliding the panel into an empty slot in the console, she taps at a few keys, entering in this password and that until she's accessing Section's databases undetected.
It only takes a couple minutes for her to ascertain that nothing 'verse-shattering has happened since she's been gone. A few personnel changes, yes, but Section's still standing, if nothing else. With Nikita calling the shots, Madeline can't say she hadn't considered the possibility that everything would have fallen to hell in the space of the last thirty-five hours.
With a few minutes to spare, Madeline hesitates for only the briefest of seconds before tapping into the security feed of the Perch. The room is dark and empty. Of course it is; it's two a.m. on Paquin. Paul is probably sleeping right now, as well he should be. Really, so should she.
Skipping past the security feeds from a series of empty hallways, she pauses at Comm for a second, then continues on, stopping when she gets to her office. Mild annoyance races through her at the sight of all of the fluorescent lights still shining brightly-the last thing on her mind when she'd left had been her plants, after all, and she'd realized, on some level, that they'd all die or be thrown away long before she could ever consider returning, but the waste of years' worth of work is frustrating nonetheless-but that irritation is forgotten in an instant at the sight of a lone figure sitting on the floor.
Paul. Of course. Who, it appears, isn't even close to being asleep right now.
She stares for a moment, unable to make herself move on to the next screen. He's just… sitting there, leaning against the wall opposite the glaring lights, and the picture isn't the clearest in the world, but if she had to guess, she'd say that despite the display in front of him, he isn't seeing bonsai and orchids at all. He lets his head drop back against the wall, opting to stare at the ceiling instead, and he looks so very… defeated.
Madeline remembers a time, years ago, when he'd been shot, and she'd leaned over his bed in Medical, his cheek cool beneath her fingertips as she'd ordered him to live, willing him to hear her and obey. For the briefest of seconds she wishes, irrationally, that she could do that same thing right now-and just as quickly she rolls her eyes at herself in disgust and snatches her hand away from the monitor, clicking out the commands to cut off the connection to Section and wipe away all evidence of her having been poking around in the first place.
She removes the wave panel from its slot and looks around, finally settling on hiding it among some wiring in the underside of the navigation console. If her movements are more hasty than usual and her hands shake slightly as she steps out into the hallway, it's only because she hasn't slept in nearly two days and she's so very, very tired. Only that, and nothing more.
She nearly passes Wash's door entirely, wanting nothing more than to just go to bed. But her shoes-not to mention her underwear-are still down there somewhere, and he'd probably just come looking for her at some point (or, worse, be incredibly awkward to be around in the morning), and besides, whether she wants to admit it or not, this is one of those rare nights when she'll take all of the distractions she can get.
Besides, she thinks, justifying her actions to herself out of habit more than anything else, in all that mess down there, maybe I can find some decent shampoo.