Title: Between the Lines
Author: knightshade
Rating: PG
Characters: Mal and Zoe

Summary: There were two people on his ship he never wanted to find opposite him in a fight.

Author's Notes: Written forthe Color I Fic challengeand forPheral who, a long time ago, asked for some 'Mal whumping.' No spoilers. Thank you very much toGumnut for the beta read.

Between the Lines

There was a sharp crack in the vicinity of Mal's cheekbone followed closely by a white hot blast of pain that ricocheted around his skull for a while. Then, when the ringing started to subside, he hit the ground. Hundreds of small, pointy shards of gravel bit into his shoulder and back.

"Awgh," he croaked uselessly, trying to ignore the cheering coming from behind him.

This was a position he'd never wanted to find himself in. Not ever. There were two people on his ship he never wanted to find opposite him in a fight. Jayne was big, strong, and a dead shot, but at least Mal could outsmart him. Zoe though? She was right dangerous on all counts.

"You ain't going easy on me, are you?" He grumbled as she held out her hand to pull him up. "Cause I surely remember telling you not to go easy."

"No, sir," Zoe answered. To anyone else, it would have sounded toneless, but Mal was schooled in hearing what was barely there. And as sure as he was standing there, he heard mirth. Grudgingly he grabbed the staff she offered him and took his stance. Oh, there was definitely mirth. You didn't spend ten years fighting and flying together without learning to read between a person's lines.

Mal hefted the staff, ignoring the sticky feel of blood that was mixing with his sweat and rolling down the side of his face. Zoe was standing in a loose crouch in front of him, her staff held at a deceptively casual angle. She was a gorram cat toying with her prey.

Mal circled her slowly. Then he lashed forward with what seemed to him like a sudden and right quick attack. With one fluid motion, Zoe swung her staff in a tight arc that knocked Mal's off its intended course. In the same movement, she brought the other end of her staff right into his gut. Mal doubled over. He couldn't cough, couldn't breathe. He tried to cuss through the pain but couldn't draw in any air. It wasn't the first time he'd had the breath knocked out of him. He'd have thought his brain would be used to it by now, but the fool thing was screaming in panic. His manly reputation was glad for the not being able to make a sound part.

Mal writhed on the ground, silently screaming for his damn fool lungs to get over it and let him breathe. And then in an instant they did. Suddenly air was tearing its way through his pipes in a loud, undignified gasp. Mal rolled onto his hands and pushed himself up a little, panting and sucking wind.

"You okay, sir?" Zoe asked from behind him.

Mal turned to glare at her. "Shiny," he rasped, his voice as ragged as his breathing.

If there was one thing Mal hated, it was a milk run going bad. And this was one of those jobs. He and Zoe'd gone to make a simple drop. But there weren't nothin' simple no more, it seemed like.

The job itself had been a bit strange from the get go. They'd been asked to smuggle mahogany from Circe to a border world. Mahogany was legal for the most part -- but he was being paid to keep it outta quarantine when he delivered it to Cassiopeia. Circe was the only moon that had mahogany and it also had Mole Beetles something fierce. As they were a nuisance in most any place, the quarantine laws were strict. It weren't large amounts of the wood he was being asked to carry -- none more than he could fit in the hidden sections under the cargo bay steps. He had no idea what it was for and hadn't bothered to ask - didn't matter none to him.

Mal and Zoe'd arrived without incident, got past the inspectors and were delivering the cargo as planned. On schedule no less. His contact, a man going by Ledger, was a right upstanding type who offered both him and Zoe a drink in addition to their payment. Mal knew better than to ask questions, but the fool got plumb drunk and started running his mouth. Next thing Mal knew, Ledger was showing them his collection of fine mahogany quarter staffs and inviting them to watch a match of some sport that involved the staffs.

Mal thought he'd sworn to stay a good click from anything looking overly much like ancient weaponry after his sword fight on Persephone. He'd thought, anyhow. Funny how quick a good life plan went bad.

Zoe was waiting impassively with her staff at her side. Mal dragged himself up to something approaching standing and brandished the staff he'd dropped.

"Ready, sir?" Zoe asked impassively.

"Yes."

"You sure? Take your time if you ain't."

"Zoe." He drew it out, in no mood to be toyed with.

"Just checking, sir."

He held up his staff as a signal that no kidding, he was ready. Then he waited for her to make the first move. She circled, her stoic face not giving anything away. Then, like a strike of lightening, her staff flashed. Mal tried to counter it, but he was a hair too slow. Her staff crashed into his shoulder, driving him backward. He spun to try to deflect some of the momentum. Then he dove out of the path of another oncoming strike. Mal scrambled along the gravel pit away from the white line that she'd been driving him towards. He tried to stand and realized that in addition to the unwelcome pain that was shooting through his shoulder, he also couldn't move his arm. The good doctor was going to get to pop a dislocated shoulder. At least someone would get something outta this.

But in the meantime, it meant he was gonna have to hold that staff one handed. Which weren't so efficient as far as he could tell.

Course, he was no expert in this here fool sport. He'd barely been listening as the drunk Ledger had waxed poetic on how a person won by beating his opponent to unconsciousness -- which didn't seem so sporting to Mal -- or by knocking him across the white chalked line that circled the gravel pit. Mal had nodded politely wondering how much longer he was going to have to listen to drunken ramblings before he got his earnings.

Some days it didn't pay to even think questions like that.

Zoe was staring at him, motionless. A lesser fighter would be restlessly moving, swinging the staff. Not Zoe. Mal had always marveled at the sheer efficiency of her body. No muscle moved, no energy was expended unless it was necessary. And when it was, the energy was quick and explosive.

But right now she was waiting for him to make the first move. Deadly patient.

Mal wasn't going back to his crew without getting at least one good lick in. He dodged to the right and then, as soon as she moved, checked himself and threw all his weight to the left. She recovered enough to swing at his shoulder again, but this time he managed to duck enough to escape unscathed. While Zoe's staff was still swinging and pulling her around, he managed to give her a good crack across the temple. One handed, it didn't carry much strength but it did garner hisses and boos from the crowd.

Zoe whirled, her eyes coal black with rage. It was enough to make Mal rethink the relative wisdom of pulling a lion's tail. He almost took a step back, but the fury disappeared as quickly as it'd flashed. "Nicely done, sir," she said through gritted teeth.

He nodded curtly and took his stance again. He'd rather be beating the tar outta Ledger than his own crew member, but Ledger hadn't offered that up as an option. He'd held out the bag of money for Mal after they'd unloaded the mahogany, but then snatched it away. Ledger'd cackled like the drunk he was and told Mal the only way he was getting paid was if he and Zoe fought a round. Ledger told them how his mercenaries were sure that Mal's second in command would come out on top. That conclusion didn't take much in the way of brain power to suss out in Mal's opinion.

There were all kinds of reasons not to go through with this kind of stupid. Mal didn't want to see none of his crew get injured, least of all himself. But they were sorely out numbered by men brandishing heavy wooden staffs. And Mal surely wanted to get paid.

Zoe was still standing there waiting, a visible lump growing on the side of her head. His number was up unless he resorted to something drastic. Mal positioned himself just off center in the circle.

"Don't go easy on me," he said.

"Wasn't, sir."

"Okay then."

Mal waited, wanting her to come to him. He didn't have to wait long. This time he knew he was raising the staff slowly - having only one good arm didn't leave much choice. Zoe clocked him in the head again. He let himself go sprawling all undignified like toward the edge of the circle. Again, he didn't have much say in the matter. His head felt like it was exploding and his vision clouded over in a charcoal haze. He was afraid that it was going to keep growing until everything went black. But the haze lifted and he'd managed to keep his grip on the staff. Mal kept his eyes closed and waited.

"Sir?" Zoe asked, approaching him slowly. "Sir?"

"I knew he didn't have it in him," Mal heard Ledger crow.

"Mal. You okay?"

Mal could hear the crunch of her boots on the gravel as she approached him. "Capt'n?"

She was standing over him now. He listened, waiting and keeping still despite the screaming wounds all over his body. Then he heard the stretching of leather as she started to crouch down over him. Mal opened his eyes and stabbed the staff end-first into her calf just below the knee. As expected, it caught her unawares and her leg buckled underneath her. Unable to regain her balance, Zoe fell to the ground, her boot ending up outside the circle.

He'd won.

He'd actually beat Zoe in a fight! Mal couldn't help being a little bit pleased with himself. He stood on wobbly legs as Zoe pulled herself into a sitting position and began kneading her leg. There was stunned silence from the onlookers which filled Mal with smugness as he limped over to Ledger. "That answer your question?"

"I didn't think you had it in you, Reynolds."

"Our payment?"

Ledger threw him a bag. "Here you go."

Mal opened it to see that it was coin. He wanted to threaten Ledger that if he ever tried anything like that again, it'd be the end of their business dealings and probably Ledger's life, but Mal knew he couldn't afford to turn away work. Especially work that was more, rather than less, legal. Next time he'd just be prepared. And probably send Jayne with Zoe instead.

He tied the bag closed and snatched his coat from the henchman who'd been holding it. Zoe was already up, but not putting much weight on her leg. As Mal approached her, she turned and together they slowly limped off toward the mule.

"How's the leg?" he asked.

"It'll be fine, sir. And your head?"

"Same."

"Sorry about that," Mal said.

"You won fair and square sir."

Mal stopped and stared at her. "No I didn't. I fought dirty. You called me on that exact sort of move the first time we worked with Patience and -" Mal stopped and slowly tipped his head back, letting out a frustrated sigh. "You knew didn't you?"

"Knew what, sir?"

"Knew that I was playin' possum."

"Don't know what you're talking 'bout, sir. Maybe you should have the doc look at your head. You got hit pretty hard."

"Gorram it, Zoe. I told you not to go easy."

"Didn't, sir."

Suddenly Mal was a little more worn out, a little more peeved, and a lot less pleased with himself. He studied her blank face and saw just the hint of a crack at the corner of her lips.

Oh, there was definitely mirth there.

You didn't spend ten years fighting and flying together without learning to read between a person's lines.

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-knightshade
March 11, 2006