(no subject)
The wave comes in overnight, ship time. Simon first sees the message light on the comm when he's stepping back into the room, returning from the head with his toiletries case in one hand. He wonders if it's from Gage; glances from it to Kaylee, still in bed, and debates whether or not to wake her.
As he's wondering, she shifts to face him, and her eyes blink open. For a moment her gaze is blank with leftover sleep, and then slowly she breaks into a hazy, lazy smile. He returns the smile (impossible not to), and murmurs "Morning, xin gan."
"Hey, you," she says back, slightly slurred; more than slightly affectionate. "What's the news?"
"I was just about to find out, actually," he says, gesturing at the comm. "We seem to have gotten a wave overnight."
"Mm." Kaylee curls up half-propped on her side, resting her head on her hand. "Well. Who's it from?"
"I haven't looked yet," he says, touching the controls and bringing up the message.
And frowning.
"That's odd.... It's to me and River. And there's a second one here, addressed to you. From Wú Sheng Bao."
Kaylee blinks again, and sits up. "Ain't that --"
"The bank," he says, slightly bewildered. There must be some mistake. "It's from the manager."
"I ... well." She's sitting cross-legged now, running a hand through her rumpled hair. Sounding as surprised (and confused) as he is. "All right."
Simon opens the textwave, reads --
"What." Kaylee's voice goes just a little sharp. (She's sure as hell awake now.) "What?"
"It's, ah ..." He clears his throat, tries to make his voice less unsteady. "Apparently from Crowley's will."
The textwave names a figure high enough to make Kaylee blanch, sit down very carefully, and say faintly that's a lot of numbers. Simon can't do much but whisper agreement and stare -- it's high even by the standards of his old life, high enough to make him check compulsively to see if his brain somehow misplaced the decimal point.
There's a vidcapture appended.
Neither of them is willing to look at it until there's been coffee.
He knew, Simon thinks numbly. He knew it was coming after all.
When the inset screen flickers to life, there's nobody there. Only the sunlit living room of Crowley's flat on Lavinia (pale, stylish neutrals, accented with dark wood and chrome; faint music in the background). A voice offscreen says Okay, and Kaylee inhales sharply, her fingers tightening on Simon's.
Crowley steps into view, retreating from the POV, and turns to perch on the edge of the coffee table. He's not wearing his sunglasses; he looks amused, and a little awkward, and a little nervous. Er. Cào wo, this is weird. Okay. I've had these accounts set up for a few years now, but what with one thing and another I thought it might be a good time to include some sort of explanation. Just in case. And look, this is going to sound sort of crazy, but bear with me, okay?
He pauses with a searching look at the capture, for all the world as though waiting for the viewer to decide: okay.
So first things first: it is me, not someone playing a weird prank. And -- he lifts a finger -- because you're not idiots, and neither am I, I have proof.
He bends to retrieve something from the floor, below the level of the screen, and Simon has just enough time to wonder why Crowley thinks he needs to prove who he is before he sits up holding something in his hand. It's a wooden puzzle, one of the three-dimensional sort built to resemble an object; it's somewhat ancient-looking, what might once have been a glossy lacquer worn down to little more than a dull gold sheen, and it's shaped like an apple. Crowley grins at the capture. See?
He starts to explain, from the beginning: the same explanation they heard aboard Serenity more than three years ago, about how this wasn't just the future, but his future, the future of his 'verse. About the Migration, and about Bentley Aeronautics, and about the contracts for the Academy, and Simon hears his voice through a terrible sinking grayness as for the first time he notices the tiny datestamp in the lower corner of the screen.
August 1, 2519.
Anyway, Crowley says finally, waving a hand toward the windows. As you can probably hear, it's the New Year -- beg pardon, the official New Year, which means that it's almost time. For Operation Save The 'Verse, I mean. And probably you'll hear this all from me anyway, when I, when I see you. Uh, when I find Serenity, that is. Unless you assume it's a trick and blow me up first, I suppose. Er. He looks down at his hands, and the quiet crack-crack of his knuckles is clearly audible in the silence of the room.
At his side, Simon can feel Kaylee weeping without a sound.
But if I can't find Serenity, the voice on the vid continues, I'll have to meet you guys at the Academy. Which won't exactly leave any time for reintroductions. And -- well. You never know. I mean, I know all you lot come through in one piece, but it won't be a walk in the park. So this is my backup, as it were, in case you suddenly come into cash from a mysterious Andronicus Ji Crowley and were wondering why. In case I don't get to explain in person.
There are tears gathering in Simon's eyes, and he has to struggle not to let them fall, because by now it's clear he was wrong again. Crowley updated his will before going into that fight three years ago, but hasn't updated it since. That's why the attached vid is three years old, the explanation in it obsolete; that's why one letter went to Simon and River, and a separate one to Kaylee.
Which means Crowley did not, in fact, know that this death was coming.
...That's a bit of a downer note, says Crowley on the screen. Wow. In any case, that's that. Annnd this is what I've put in place for you lot. So, er. Make free? Obviously if you're watching this, I've taken a Time Out in a major way -- and there's really no way to know how long it'll be before I'm back. And it's not as though I'll be using it in the meantime.
The image of Crowley hesitates. Rubs the back of his neck. Looks back at the capture; more serious now.
If you're feeling in the mood to do something in return -- and I wouldn't stop you -- I, er. If you wouldn't mind, I'd ask you to check in with Aziraphael. Wave him, or visit, or something. And there, a grin quirking the corner of his mouth again, as though pulled up on a drawstring by the ragged scar on his cheek. Devious, and altogether pleased with himself: Ask Book about Prior Fell.
And then, with utter certainty, he says I'll see you around, and leans forward.
The screen goes black.
As he's wondering, she shifts to face him, and her eyes blink open. For a moment her gaze is blank with leftover sleep, and then slowly she breaks into a hazy, lazy smile. He returns the smile (impossible not to), and murmurs "Morning, xin gan."
"Hey, you," she says back, slightly slurred; more than slightly affectionate. "What's the news?"
"I was just about to find out, actually," he says, gesturing at the comm. "We seem to have gotten a wave overnight."
"Mm." Kaylee curls up half-propped on her side, resting her head on her hand. "Well. Who's it from?"
"I haven't looked yet," he says, touching the controls and bringing up the message.
And frowning.
"That's odd.... It's to me and River. And there's a second one here, addressed to you. From Wú Sheng Bao."
Kaylee blinks again, and sits up. "Ain't that --"
"The bank," he says, slightly bewildered. There must be some mistake. "It's from the manager."
"I ... well." She's sitting cross-legged now, running a hand through her rumpled hair. Sounding as surprised (and confused) as he is. "All right."
Simon opens the textwave, reads --
"What." Kaylee's voice goes just a little sharp. (She's sure as hell awake now.) "What?"
"It's, ah ..." He clears his throat, tries to make his voice less unsteady. "Apparently from Crowley's will."
The textwave names a figure high enough to make Kaylee blanch, sit down very carefully, and say faintly that's a lot of numbers. Simon can't do much but whisper agreement and stare -- it's high even by the standards of his old life, high enough to make him check compulsively to see if his brain somehow misplaced the decimal point.
There's a vidcapture appended.
Neither of them is willing to look at it until there's been coffee.
He knew, Simon thinks numbly. He knew it was coming after all.
When the inset screen flickers to life, there's nobody there. Only the sunlit living room of Crowley's flat on Lavinia (pale, stylish neutrals, accented with dark wood and chrome; faint music in the background). A voice offscreen says Okay, and Kaylee inhales sharply, her fingers tightening on Simon's.
Crowley steps into view, retreating from the POV, and turns to perch on the edge of the coffee table. He's not wearing his sunglasses; he looks amused, and a little awkward, and a little nervous. Er. Cào wo, this is weird. Okay. I've had these accounts set up for a few years now, but what with one thing and another I thought it might be a good time to include some sort of explanation. Just in case. And look, this is going to sound sort of crazy, but bear with me, okay?
He pauses with a searching look at the capture, for all the world as though waiting for the viewer to decide: okay.
So first things first: it is me, not someone playing a weird prank. And -- he lifts a finger -- because you're not idiots, and neither am I, I have proof.
He bends to retrieve something from the floor, below the level of the screen, and Simon has just enough time to wonder why Crowley thinks he needs to prove who he is before he sits up holding something in his hand. It's a wooden puzzle, one of the three-dimensional sort built to resemble an object; it's somewhat ancient-looking, what might once have been a glossy lacquer worn down to little more than a dull gold sheen, and it's shaped like an apple. Crowley grins at the capture. See?
He starts to explain, from the beginning: the same explanation they heard aboard Serenity more than three years ago, about how this wasn't just the future, but his future, the future of his 'verse. About the Migration, and about Bentley Aeronautics, and about the contracts for the Academy, and Simon hears his voice through a terrible sinking grayness as for the first time he notices the tiny datestamp in the lower corner of the screen.
August 1, 2519.
Anyway, Crowley says finally, waving a hand toward the windows. As you can probably hear, it's the New Year -- beg pardon, the official New Year, which means that it's almost time. For Operation Save The 'Verse, I mean. And probably you'll hear this all from me anyway, when I, when I see you. Uh, when I find Serenity, that is. Unless you assume it's a trick and blow me up first, I suppose. Er. He looks down at his hands, and the quiet crack-crack of his knuckles is clearly audible in the silence of the room.
At his side, Simon can feel Kaylee weeping without a sound.
But if I can't find Serenity, the voice on the vid continues, I'll have to meet you guys at the Academy. Which won't exactly leave any time for reintroductions. And -- well. You never know. I mean, I know all you lot come through in one piece, but it won't be a walk in the park. So this is my backup, as it were, in case you suddenly come into cash from a mysterious Andronicus Ji Crowley and were wondering why. In case I don't get to explain in person.
There are tears gathering in Simon's eyes, and he has to struggle not to let them fall, because by now it's clear he was wrong again. Crowley updated his will before going into that fight three years ago, but hasn't updated it since. That's why the attached vid is three years old, the explanation in it obsolete; that's why one letter went to Simon and River, and a separate one to Kaylee.
Which means Crowley did not, in fact, know that this death was coming.
...That's a bit of a downer note, says Crowley on the screen. Wow. In any case, that's that. Annnd this is what I've put in place for you lot. So, er. Make free? Obviously if you're watching this, I've taken a Time Out in a major way -- and there's really no way to know how long it'll be before I'm back. And it's not as though I'll be using it in the meantime.
The image of Crowley hesitates. Rubs the back of his neck. Looks back at the capture; more serious now.
If you're feeling in the mood to do something in return -- and I wouldn't stop you -- I, er. If you wouldn't mind, I'd ask you to check in with Aziraphael. Wave him, or visit, or something. And there, a grin quirking the corner of his mouth again, as though pulled up on a drawstring by the ragged scar on his cheek. Devious, and altogether pleased with himself: Ask Book about Prior Fell.
And then, with utter certainty, he says I'll see you around, and leans forward.
The screen goes black.