fic: Faith Based Initiative (Firefly; ensemble; gen)
I was going to post this as discardia, for WIP amnesty, but this morning I said to myself, Self, says I, you should finish this story, because it's Mal and nuns, and there can be no bad there. And lo, it is finished, after many, many months of languishing on my hard drive.
Faith Based Initiative
Firefly; ensemble; pg; 2,635 words
"Out of all the passengers Kaylee could've signed on, why'd she gotta pick nuns? Ain't it bad enough she saddled me with a shepherd?"
All mousapelli's fault. I do it all for you, babe.
***
Faith Based Initiative
This is worse than the penguins, Mal thinks, and he hadn't thought that was even possible.
They sit around the table, all swathed in black like crows, their chattering as unnerving as the unnatural silences they sometimes fall into, the ones that make him bow his head expectantly, until he remembers he doesn't believe anymore, and even when he did, it wasn't in their flavor.
Just now they're bowed over knitting, not rosaries, and in what may be the most disturbing development of all, Jayne's sitting between the mother superior and the novice, a pair of big metal needles in hand, learning to knit. He's wearing the hat his momma sent him; earlier, one of them--the one who looks like she's got five o'clock shadow even at breakfast, and could give Jayne a run for his money in the muscle department (Mal can't keep their names straight)--had gushed over its fine workmanship, and Jayne had blushed like a schoolboy. Simon sits across from him, needles clicking away at the ugliest something-or-other Mal's ever seen. Knitting keeps his fingers nimble for surgery, so at least he's got an excuse, but Mal ain't sure what the hell Jayne's doing.
"My ma tried to teach me," Jayne's telling the novice, "but I was all thumbs, too impatient to... do other stuff to sit around and learn girly stuff like knitting."
"What changed your mind?" she asks, adding another row of stitches to the sweater she's making.
"Needles're a handy weapon. Can kill a body quick and silent-like. Plus, it gets cold out in the black. Woolly blanket's always a comfort."
Man's got a point, but when River slips into place next to her brother, circular needle in hand, Mal decides it's time to vacate the kitchen and head to the bridge, which is free from all nun-ly--and needley--distractions, though it seems Wash and Zoe have picked it as a place to get all up close and personal, though it is, in fact, public space, and there used to be a rule about keeping such shenanigans out of public space on his boat. They pull apart when he enters, but Wash keeps his arms wrapped round Zoe, and Zoe doesn't make a move to get free.
"Out of all the passengers Kaylee could've signed on," he says, "why'd she gotta pick nuns? Ain't it bad enough she already saddled me with a shepherd?"
"Turned out to be a good man to have in a fight, sir," Zoe says, and though she doesn't smile, he can hear it in her voice.
"They're keeping Jayne out of trouble," Wash adds, "so they're all right in my book."
And then Zoe gives him a look that tells him he's interrupting her private time with her husband, even though they're on his gorram bridge, so he goes off to his bunk, where he can sulk in solitary splendor.
***
He knows something is wrong as soon as he wakes up--he can't say what it is or how he knows, he just knows. The instinct has saved his life more than once, so he don't ignore it now.
He pulls on his boots and rushes up to the bridge, still buttoning up his pants, and there's Wash sitting there, just like he's supposed to be, except instead of heading for Greenleaf like they'd discussed, they're heading towards--
"Whitefall? Why in gorram hell would anyone want to go to Whitefall that didn't have to? And more importantly, why are we going to Whitefall when we're supposed to be delivering the sisters to Greenleaf?"
"About that," Wash says with a weak smile. "Did you know Sister Benedicta keeps a sawed-off shotgun under her habit?"
"And I ain't afraid to use it," she says, materializing out of the shadows. "So you leave Wash alone. He's just doing as he's told."
Nuns with guns. Mal's always known the 'verse is out to get him, and this is just the icing on the manju. "So you ain't really nuns, I take it?" he says wearily.
"What gives you that idea?"
"I didn't think the Little Sisters of the Poor generally went about under arms."
"The 'verse is a dangerous place, Captain Reynolds. Full of dangerous folk."
"Like nuns who hijack ships?"
"Hijack is such an ugly word, Captain. I prefer to think of it as commandeering your ship to perform the Lord's work. Surely you can appreciate that."
"Not so much, no."
"Well, perhaps in the next day or two you'll learn to."
"I really doubt that." He tries to catch Wash's eye, but Wash won't look at him. Which means no help from that quarter if he tries to take out Sister Benedicta.
River flutters onto the bridge then, sleepy-eyed and curious. "Let the crows fly where they must," she says, and it's just the distraction Mal needs.
He lunges at Sister Benedicta, who swings the shotgun at him like a club and whacks him in the head. Everything goes black.
When he comes to, he's in the infirmary and River's hovering over him and Zoe's leaning against the cabinet, arms crossed over her chest. One of the nuns stands guard outside the doorway, gun in hand.
"Sir, just what is going on?" Zoe asks in a low voice.
"We've been hijacked by nuns," he answers, wincing.
Zoe's eyes widen, and he thinks it may be the first time in years he's actually seen her surprised. It's almost worth the headache.
***
"Now look here," Sister Benedicta says, "I don't like to resort to violence," Mal looks at her incredulously, rubbing at the large lump on his head, but she ignores him, "but I will if I have to. We have a mission, and as long as you let us complete it with no interference, we can all get along without the need for drastic measures." She waves the shotgun around menacingly, and he's sure she knows how to use it for more than just banging fellas on the head. "Sister Aloysius," she nods towards the tall, reedy looking one with the fancy laser pistol, "and Sister Rose of Sharon," the novice, who holds her gun like she's afraid it might bite her, "are going to watch over you, and I've stationed Sister Joseph Agnes outside the Companion's shuttle, and Sister Teresa Dolorosa outside the crew quarters, but as long as we have your word you won't try to change course or interfere in our business, we won't tie you up or anything."
"And just what is your business, Sister?"
"None of yours, Captain, but since you asked so nicely, we're bringing aid and comfort to the people of Whitefall. They was hit by Reavers a few months back, and are in great need of both spiritual and material succor."
"Ni tama de tianxia suoyou de ren duo gaisi!"
Sister Benedicta removes one hand from her shotgun long enough to rap Mal across the knuckles, more surprising than painful, and he jerks his hand away, stung. "I'll thank you to watch your language, Captain. We are women of God here, and expect to be accorded some respect."
His mouth twists in annoyance, but he's in his pajamas, and for the first time in a very long time, Zoe's unarmed, as well. Hell might freeze over before Jayne realizes they need rescuing, so he just says, "I hate to tell you, Sister, but arriving on board Serenity ain't the way to command respect on Whitefall. Patience, the woman who owns half that moon, has an old grievance with me she ain't seen fit to forgive. She's like to shoot us out of the sky as look at us."
"Oh, Patience is an old friend of ours," Sister Aloysius says with a wry smile. "We were in the novitiate together, before she left to pursue more worldly aims." She leans in like she's sharing a secret, and says, "Never did quite get the hang of turning the other cheek and offering forgiveness."
"No, Patience is definitely more of an eye for an eye type," Mal says, pinching the bridge of his nose, as if this whole thing is just a hallucination from getting whacked in the head with a shotgun and he can make it go away if he pinches hard enough.
The novice chimes in with, "We accept the shortcomings of our sisters, and hope to be made perfect in the sight of God."
"Yeah, I think that pistol you're waving around might be a bit of an impediment there," Mal answers, but before Sister Benedicta can rap his knuckles again, he says, "But all right, fine. We'll cooperate. Long as you don't hurt none of my crew, or my ship, we won't hurt none of yours." He's resigned, for the moment, to their fate. And surely there must be something here in the infirmary they can use to knock the nuns out. They've just got to be smart about it, and quiet.
***
"I ain't taking on no nuns, Mal." Jayne's voice is tinny, and if Mal didn't know better, he'd say scared, over the intercom.
"Jayne, I seen you shoot a dog once tried to steal your ice cream. You're gonna quibble at nuns? Nuns who've hijacked my ship?" Mal tries to keep his voice low, as River distracts Sister Aloysius with her knitting. He rubs a hand over his forehead, pain from where Sister Benedicta clocked him and tension from this whole situation meeting somewhere in the middle, throbbing like a pulsar in his brainpan. "I've known you a while now, never seen you 'fraid of anything 'cept Reavers, and suddenly, nuns are a problem?"
"They might be packing rulers. Don't like getting my knuckles rapped, Mal. Plus, they got them knitting needles. Can put a man's eye out with one'a those. I like my eyes."
"Ta shi suoyou diyu de biaozi de ma!"
"Language, Captain!" Sister Aloysius calls from the doorway, and Mal mutters any number of other curses under his breath.
He tries the intercom again, this time with Wash, who's just as reluctant as Jayne to help out. "Captain, I would do anything for this ship, but when my day comes, I refuse to stand before the Almighty and answer as to why I'd beat up some little sisters of the cloth."
"Never took you for a believer before, Wash."
"Never said I was, but it doesn't pay to take chances. I know how I feel whenever someone shoots at my bride; can't imagine God don't feel the same 'bout his."
Mal looks at Zoe, who shrugs. "Man's got a point, Cap'n. He really don't like it when people shoot at me."
Wash is still talking. "Why exactly does little Sister Rose of Sharon have a black eye, the Lord'll say, and I'll say, sir, I don't rightly recall, and he'll know me for the liar I am, and cast me into the fiery pits of hell. I don't know if you know this, Mal, but I'm a fair-skinned man. And I don't like pain. I would not do well in the fiery pits of hell. The sunburn alone would be murder."
"You're assuming you're even going to see the pearly gates, Wash, if such a thing does exist."
"Well, we ain't all as set on going to hell as you are, Cap'n. And anyway, Sister Benedicta is standing right here and can hear every word we're saying."
Mal signs off with another muttered, tamade, and starts rummaging through the infirmary drawers again, this time looking for something to knock himself out, because obviously, that's the only way he's going to make it through this without going insane.
***
They're an hour out from Whitefall. River's got Kaylee and Sister Rose of Sharon playing hide and seek, and Sister Aloysius and Shepherd Book are discussing the finer points of the book of Job, which Mal thinks he might be living in, when Jayne appears in the doorway with an unconscious, half-dressed nun slung over his shoulder, and Vera in his other hand.
"No ruler," he says, dumping the unconscious Sister Teresa Dolorosa onto the exam table and herding Sister Aloysius in next to her, skirts swirling. "Reckoned I was safe once I figured she didn't have no ruler."
"And you felt the need to strip her and dress up in her clothes because..." Mal asks, though halfway through the question he wonders if maybe he's better off not knowing.
"Stealth," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Can't sneak up on the mother superior dressed as me. This way, she'll think I'm Sister Teresa and let me get close enough to disarm her 'fore she realizes I ain't." He shakes his head in disgust. "That thump on the head must've knocked some of the smarts right outta you, Mal."
"Yeah," Mal agrees, dazed. "It must've."
"Now let's go, 'fore Sister Benedicta notices Sister Teresa's not at her post."
***
Mal, Jayne, and Zoe are more than a match for Sister Benedicta, even with her holy shotgun, and soon the whole lot of 'em are weaponless and locked up in the infirmary.
"I went through your belongings," he says, "and you do appear to actually be bringing supplies to Whitefall, Sister--"
"We're not liars, Captain," she interrupts, haughty as a Companion.
"No, just hijackers. Anyway, as I'm sure the supplies are needed down on the surface, we'll send you down in the shuttle to deliver them. But you can find your own way back to Persephone if you've a need to go."
The old bat looks pleased. "Thank you, Captain."
"If you'd've just asked, we could've saved a lot of headaches."
"Patience said you were a difficult man, not prone to doing folk any favors. Seemed easier to force the issue."
"Well, you know what the good book says, Sister. 'Ask and ye shall receive,' not, 'hijack a man's ship and whack him about the head with your shotgun.'"
"Believe me, Captain, I'm heartfully sorry, and I'll be confessing my sins soon enough."
Thing is, she actually does look regretful, so he decides not to push it. He don't believe anymore, but it was his momma, not his priest, who taught him justice should be tempered with mercy, and it ain't like there's enough of either in the 'verse these days.
He turns to Jayne, then, looks him up and down slowly, still not quite believing his eyes.
"What?" Jayne asks pinching a bit of skirt between his fingers. "It ain't pretty, maybe, but it sure is comfy."
Mal pinches the bridge of his nose. "Sister Teresa needs her clothes back before we make planetfall, Jayne."
"Fine," Jayne grumbles, hefting the habit and shucking it right there in front of everyone. The nuns--and Mal--avert their eyes in horror. He tosses it onto the counter and stalks away in his skivvies, muttering under his breath about how he never gets to have anything nice.
Mal just shakes his head and walks away.
***
He's sitting on the bridge later, after the nuns have been offloaded and his head has stopped feeling so much like it got whacked with a shotgun, grateful for a moment of peace. River slips up on deck beside him and loops a scarf around his neck, green and blue like the yarn the sisters had been using earlier. He sits up, startled.
"I made it for you," she says. "One side and one edge, stays in one piece when divided."
"Uh, xièxie, River."
She smiles brightly. "Cold out in the black, and you need to keep warm." She slips away again, bare feet silent on Serenity's grates.
He shakes his head again, and buries his face in the soft yarn of his new scarf. It's not the strangest thing he's seen today, and that's a fact.
end
***
Note: for those of you interested in such things, here are directions on how to knit a moebius scarf.
***
3/7/07
***
Feedback is always welcome.
***
Faith Based Initiative
Firefly; ensemble; pg; 2,635 words
"Out of all the passengers Kaylee could've signed on, why'd she gotta pick nuns? Ain't it bad enough she saddled me with a shepherd?"
All mousapelli's fault. I do it all for you, babe.
***
Faith Based Initiative
This is worse than the penguins, Mal thinks, and he hadn't thought that was even possible.
They sit around the table, all swathed in black like crows, their chattering as unnerving as the unnatural silences they sometimes fall into, the ones that make him bow his head expectantly, until he remembers he doesn't believe anymore, and even when he did, it wasn't in their flavor.
Just now they're bowed over knitting, not rosaries, and in what may be the most disturbing development of all, Jayne's sitting between the mother superior and the novice, a pair of big metal needles in hand, learning to knit. He's wearing the hat his momma sent him; earlier, one of them--the one who looks like she's got five o'clock shadow even at breakfast, and could give Jayne a run for his money in the muscle department (Mal can't keep their names straight)--had gushed over its fine workmanship, and Jayne had blushed like a schoolboy. Simon sits across from him, needles clicking away at the ugliest something-or-other Mal's ever seen. Knitting keeps his fingers nimble for surgery, so at least he's got an excuse, but Mal ain't sure what the hell Jayne's doing.
"My ma tried to teach me," Jayne's telling the novice, "but I was all thumbs, too impatient to... do other stuff to sit around and learn girly stuff like knitting."
"What changed your mind?" she asks, adding another row of stitches to the sweater she's making.
"Needles're a handy weapon. Can kill a body quick and silent-like. Plus, it gets cold out in the black. Woolly blanket's always a comfort."
Man's got a point, but when River slips into place next to her brother, circular needle in hand, Mal decides it's time to vacate the kitchen and head to the bridge, which is free from all nun-ly--and needley--distractions, though it seems Wash and Zoe have picked it as a place to get all up close and personal, though it is, in fact, public space, and there used to be a rule about keeping such shenanigans out of public space on his boat. They pull apart when he enters, but Wash keeps his arms wrapped round Zoe, and Zoe doesn't make a move to get free.
"Out of all the passengers Kaylee could've signed on," he says, "why'd she gotta pick nuns? Ain't it bad enough she already saddled me with a shepherd?"
"Turned out to be a good man to have in a fight, sir," Zoe says, and though she doesn't smile, he can hear it in her voice.
"They're keeping Jayne out of trouble," Wash adds, "so they're all right in my book."
And then Zoe gives him a look that tells him he's interrupting her private time with her husband, even though they're on his gorram bridge, so he goes off to his bunk, where he can sulk in solitary splendor.
***
He knows something is wrong as soon as he wakes up--he can't say what it is or how he knows, he just knows. The instinct has saved his life more than once, so he don't ignore it now.
He pulls on his boots and rushes up to the bridge, still buttoning up his pants, and there's Wash sitting there, just like he's supposed to be, except instead of heading for Greenleaf like they'd discussed, they're heading towards--
"Whitefall? Why in gorram hell would anyone want to go to Whitefall that didn't have to? And more importantly, why are we going to Whitefall when we're supposed to be delivering the sisters to Greenleaf?"
"About that," Wash says with a weak smile. "Did you know Sister Benedicta keeps a sawed-off shotgun under her habit?"
"And I ain't afraid to use it," she says, materializing out of the shadows. "So you leave Wash alone. He's just doing as he's told."
Nuns with guns. Mal's always known the 'verse is out to get him, and this is just the icing on the manju. "So you ain't really nuns, I take it?" he says wearily.
"What gives you that idea?"
"I didn't think the Little Sisters of the Poor generally went about under arms."
"The 'verse is a dangerous place, Captain Reynolds. Full of dangerous folk."
"Like nuns who hijack ships?"
"Hijack is such an ugly word, Captain. I prefer to think of it as commandeering your ship to perform the Lord's work. Surely you can appreciate that."
"Not so much, no."
"Well, perhaps in the next day or two you'll learn to."
"I really doubt that." He tries to catch Wash's eye, but Wash won't look at him. Which means no help from that quarter if he tries to take out Sister Benedicta.
River flutters onto the bridge then, sleepy-eyed and curious. "Let the crows fly where they must," she says, and it's just the distraction Mal needs.
He lunges at Sister Benedicta, who swings the shotgun at him like a club and whacks him in the head. Everything goes black.
When he comes to, he's in the infirmary and River's hovering over him and Zoe's leaning against the cabinet, arms crossed over her chest. One of the nuns stands guard outside the doorway, gun in hand.
"Sir, just what is going on?" Zoe asks in a low voice.
"We've been hijacked by nuns," he answers, wincing.
Zoe's eyes widen, and he thinks it may be the first time in years he's actually seen her surprised. It's almost worth the headache.
***
"Now look here," Sister Benedicta says, "I don't like to resort to violence," Mal looks at her incredulously, rubbing at the large lump on his head, but she ignores him, "but I will if I have to. We have a mission, and as long as you let us complete it with no interference, we can all get along without the need for drastic measures." She waves the shotgun around menacingly, and he's sure she knows how to use it for more than just banging fellas on the head. "Sister Aloysius," she nods towards the tall, reedy looking one with the fancy laser pistol, "and Sister Rose of Sharon," the novice, who holds her gun like she's afraid it might bite her, "are going to watch over you, and I've stationed Sister Joseph Agnes outside the Companion's shuttle, and Sister Teresa Dolorosa outside the crew quarters, but as long as we have your word you won't try to change course or interfere in our business, we won't tie you up or anything."
"And just what is your business, Sister?"
"None of yours, Captain, but since you asked so nicely, we're bringing aid and comfort to the people of Whitefall. They was hit by Reavers a few months back, and are in great need of both spiritual and material succor."
"Ni tama de tianxia suoyou de ren duo gaisi!"
Sister Benedicta removes one hand from her shotgun long enough to rap Mal across the knuckles, more surprising than painful, and he jerks his hand away, stung. "I'll thank you to watch your language, Captain. We are women of God here, and expect to be accorded some respect."
His mouth twists in annoyance, but he's in his pajamas, and for the first time in a very long time, Zoe's unarmed, as well. Hell might freeze over before Jayne realizes they need rescuing, so he just says, "I hate to tell you, Sister, but arriving on board Serenity ain't the way to command respect on Whitefall. Patience, the woman who owns half that moon, has an old grievance with me she ain't seen fit to forgive. She's like to shoot us out of the sky as look at us."
"Oh, Patience is an old friend of ours," Sister Aloysius says with a wry smile. "We were in the novitiate together, before she left to pursue more worldly aims." She leans in like she's sharing a secret, and says, "Never did quite get the hang of turning the other cheek and offering forgiveness."
"No, Patience is definitely more of an eye for an eye type," Mal says, pinching the bridge of his nose, as if this whole thing is just a hallucination from getting whacked in the head with a shotgun and he can make it go away if he pinches hard enough.
The novice chimes in with, "We accept the shortcomings of our sisters, and hope to be made perfect in the sight of God."
"Yeah, I think that pistol you're waving around might be a bit of an impediment there," Mal answers, but before Sister Benedicta can rap his knuckles again, he says, "But all right, fine. We'll cooperate. Long as you don't hurt none of my crew, or my ship, we won't hurt none of yours." He's resigned, for the moment, to their fate. And surely there must be something here in the infirmary they can use to knock the nuns out. They've just got to be smart about it, and quiet.
***
"I ain't taking on no nuns, Mal." Jayne's voice is tinny, and if Mal didn't know better, he'd say scared, over the intercom.
"Jayne, I seen you shoot a dog once tried to steal your ice cream. You're gonna quibble at nuns? Nuns who've hijacked my ship?" Mal tries to keep his voice low, as River distracts Sister Aloysius with her knitting. He rubs a hand over his forehead, pain from where Sister Benedicta clocked him and tension from this whole situation meeting somewhere in the middle, throbbing like a pulsar in his brainpan. "I've known you a while now, never seen you 'fraid of anything 'cept Reavers, and suddenly, nuns are a problem?"
"They might be packing rulers. Don't like getting my knuckles rapped, Mal. Plus, they got them knitting needles. Can put a man's eye out with one'a those. I like my eyes."
"Ta shi suoyou diyu de biaozi de ma!"
"Language, Captain!" Sister Aloysius calls from the doorway, and Mal mutters any number of other curses under his breath.
He tries the intercom again, this time with Wash, who's just as reluctant as Jayne to help out. "Captain, I would do anything for this ship, but when my day comes, I refuse to stand before the Almighty and answer as to why I'd beat up some little sisters of the cloth."
"Never took you for a believer before, Wash."
"Never said I was, but it doesn't pay to take chances. I know how I feel whenever someone shoots at my bride; can't imagine God don't feel the same 'bout his."
Mal looks at Zoe, who shrugs. "Man's got a point, Cap'n. He really don't like it when people shoot at me."
Wash is still talking. "Why exactly does little Sister Rose of Sharon have a black eye, the Lord'll say, and I'll say, sir, I don't rightly recall, and he'll know me for the liar I am, and cast me into the fiery pits of hell. I don't know if you know this, Mal, but I'm a fair-skinned man. And I don't like pain. I would not do well in the fiery pits of hell. The sunburn alone would be murder."
"You're assuming you're even going to see the pearly gates, Wash, if such a thing does exist."
"Well, we ain't all as set on going to hell as you are, Cap'n. And anyway, Sister Benedicta is standing right here and can hear every word we're saying."
Mal signs off with another muttered, tamade, and starts rummaging through the infirmary drawers again, this time looking for something to knock himself out, because obviously, that's the only way he's going to make it through this without going insane.
***
They're an hour out from Whitefall. River's got Kaylee and Sister Rose of Sharon playing hide and seek, and Sister Aloysius and Shepherd Book are discussing the finer points of the book of Job, which Mal thinks he might be living in, when Jayne appears in the doorway with an unconscious, half-dressed nun slung over his shoulder, and Vera in his other hand.
"No ruler," he says, dumping the unconscious Sister Teresa Dolorosa onto the exam table and herding Sister Aloysius in next to her, skirts swirling. "Reckoned I was safe once I figured she didn't have no ruler."
"And you felt the need to strip her and dress up in her clothes because..." Mal asks, though halfway through the question he wonders if maybe he's better off not knowing.
"Stealth," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Can't sneak up on the mother superior dressed as me. This way, she'll think I'm Sister Teresa and let me get close enough to disarm her 'fore she realizes I ain't." He shakes his head in disgust. "That thump on the head must've knocked some of the smarts right outta you, Mal."
"Yeah," Mal agrees, dazed. "It must've."
"Now let's go, 'fore Sister Benedicta notices Sister Teresa's not at her post."
***
Mal, Jayne, and Zoe are more than a match for Sister Benedicta, even with her holy shotgun, and soon the whole lot of 'em are weaponless and locked up in the infirmary.
"I went through your belongings," he says, "and you do appear to actually be bringing supplies to Whitefall, Sister--"
"We're not liars, Captain," she interrupts, haughty as a Companion.
"No, just hijackers. Anyway, as I'm sure the supplies are needed down on the surface, we'll send you down in the shuttle to deliver them. But you can find your own way back to Persephone if you've a need to go."
The old bat looks pleased. "Thank you, Captain."
"If you'd've just asked, we could've saved a lot of headaches."
"Patience said you were a difficult man, not prone to doing folk any favors. Seemed easier to force the issue."
"Well, you know what the good book says, Sister. 'Ask and ye shall receive,' not, 'hijack a man's ship and whack him about the head with your shotgun.'"
"Believe me, Captain, I'm heartfully sorry, and I'll be confessing my sins soon enough."
Thing is, she actually does look regretful, so he decides not to push it. He don't believe anymore, but it was his momma, not his priest, who taught him justice should be tempered with mercy, and it ain't like there's enough of either in the 'verse these days.
He turns to Jayne, then, looks him up and down slowly, still not quite believing his eyes.
"What?" Jayne asks pinching a bit of skirt between his fingers. "It ain't pretty, maybe, but it sure is comfy."
Mal pinches the bridge of his nose. "Sister Teresa needs her clothes back before we make planetfall, Jayne."
"Fine," Jayne grumbles, hefting the habit and shucking it right there in front of everyone. The nuns--and Mal--avert their eyes in horror. He tosses it onto the counter and stalks away in his skivvies, muttering under his breath about how he never gets to have anything nice.
Mal just shakes his head and walks away.
***
He's sitting on the bridge later, after the nuns have been offloaded and his head has stopped feeling so much like it got whacked with a shotgun, grateful for a moment of peace. River slips up on deck beside him and loops a scarf around his neck, green and blue like the yarn the sisters had been using earlier. He sits up, startled.
"I made it for you," she says. "One side and one edge, stays in one piece when divided."
"Uh, xièxie, River."
She smiles brightly. "Cold out in the black, and you need to keep warm." She slips away again, bare feet silent on Serenity's grates.
He shakes his head again, and buries his face in the soft yarn of his new scarf. It's not the strangest thing he's seen today, and that's a fact.
end
***
Note: for those of you interested in such things, here are directions on how to knit a moebius scarf.
***
3/7/07
***
Feedback is always welcome.
***