Entry tags:

015 (virtue and vice)

Love at First Sight (#15 - "virtue and vice")
Set pre-series. Length: 818 words.

pigu = ass
lìngrén jingyì = stunning, amazing (thanks to taraljc's Mandarin glossary)

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Mal had never learned how to do that "quiet-as-a-mouse" sneaking thing during the war, but Zoë was exceptional at it. She'd managed to save his pigu more times than not by approaching the enemy from behind and giving him a good whack to the head, or a certain male body part; it depended on her mood.

Yeah, Zoë was great at that sneaking stuff, around everyone except him. He'd grown so used to having her tail him as his backup in fights that he imagined he could catch her breathing, hear the swish of the wind gliding through her hair; even his heartbeat seemed in tune with hers.

He stopped in his tracks and cocked his head slightly to the side to let her know he was smiling; as a matter of fact, she could probably tell. "Yes, Zoë?"

There was no noise, but the next thing he knew, she was standing next to him, her wide, dark eyes trained unblinkingly on his face. "Sorry for the sneaking, sir."

"Not a problem," he replied. Truth was, he'd been expecting this. "As you know, I'm the one who's been keeping secrets from you lately."

". . . Yes, sir." She sounded puzzled, and he smiled at that. It gave him a kick to catch her off-guard once in a while. "I began to wonder where you disappeared to some days, why you'd sneak off in the middle of the night."

He pursed his lips and stood staring out at the rust-red dirt for several heartbeats. "I gotta confess," he said with a sigh, "I've got a bad vice that's been occupyin' my mind for these last days. Zoë . . . I met a girl."

She hadn't been expecting this. After their loss at Hera, the Sergeant didn't seem like he was ready to face the universe, let alone a female. "That's wonderful, sir," she said, ". . . unexpected, but wonderful. Were you going to meet her tonight?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. And now you can too. I really want you to meet her, Zoë. I bet you'd like her." Mal began walking again, and Zoë followed beside him without question. He took in a deep breath of the still night air. In addition to the oxygen, a sharper scent filled his nostrils; this was the scent he'd been waiting for, of metal and oil that somehow pulsed and breathed like a living thing. They were almost at his destination.

Sunlight had already passed and dusk was settled over the shipyard, making the gleaming spaceships cast long, black shadows on the rocky ground. Mal slipped through a hole in the fence, followed by Zoë, and wordlessly walked past the rows and rows of ships, some pointing up into the sky like buildings, others squatted over the cold ground. He kept walking without looking from right to left, paying no attention to them.

Finally he stopped and stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat. "This, Zoë," he announced, his voice carrying among his still audience, "is my vice. But she's really more of a blessin', a 'diamond in the rough,' you know?"

Zoë couldn't believe what towered over of her. It wasn't even a pretty chrome color like the others. It was fat, with the front -- or was it the back? -- part squished in, and it was dark, dull gray, covered with blasts and scrapes. "Sir . . . it's a ship."

"Not 'it' -- she. She's lìngrén jingyì, don't you think?" Mal went over to the monstrosity and stroked it lovingly with one hand. "A real treasure, and I found her. No one else wanted her, but I saw her true beauty."

He'd gone over the edge; there was no other logical explanation.

She had to admit, she'd been expecting something like this to happen sooner or later. Zoë forced a smile and tugged gently on Mal's sleeve. The poor guy was overcome by an infatuation, a desire to do something other than sit around and be branded a loser and a traitor.

"You and me, we got somethin' in common," Mal told the ship as he began to walk away with Zoë, back toward the hotel. "We've both been beaten up; I know how you feel, and I'll take care of you. My girl," he murmured to himself with a goofy grin, finally turning his entire body around so that his back was to the ship.

Zoë couldn't help but smile wryly. Mal had always had good instincts in people. Maybe in the morning this ship would look better. She hoped so, for the Sergeant's sake. He needed something to heal his broken spirit; not a simple fling, but a deep connection. It wasn't as if any woman had done a good job of it; if what he needed was an escape, she would be along for the ride, like always.