The Last Spartan – Chapter Twenty

Surely everyone knows by now that I don’t own Firefly.

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Mal had stayed on the bridge as the others had left the ship. Only Inara had stayed. He wanted to be angry with them, and felt like he should be. But the things Jayne had said to him were still ringing in his ears.

Was he such a control freak that he felt like he needed to be in charge of every aspect of their lives? Before today he would have laughed at the idea. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Not anymore.

That Inara had chosen to stay spoke volumes about her love for him, and he felt guilty about that, now. She would endure his anger, his stubbornness, even if it meant that she alone left her with him. She deserved better than that.

So did the rest. They had followed him through thick and thin, never hesitating when the chips were down, to do what needed doing. Had saved his life, and each others, more times than he cared to think on.

And he repaid them how? By demanding that they live up to ‘his’ code, on ‘his’ ship. The ship was their home, as well. Yet how many times had he refused to even let them get off the ship, so great was his desire to be in the black again as soon as possible.

How many times had they looked out the door, or window, seeing grass and trees and other people, knowing that he wouldn’t ‘allow’ them to go and touch, smell, and visit.

Malcolm Reynolds hid in the black. He would admit it to himself, if to no one else. In the black, he was in charge of his own destiny. No one told him what to do. The Alliance didn’t rule him, not Malcolm Reynolds.

He snorted at that, thinking about how many times he had narrowly escaped with his life, or his ship, from the Alliance. No sir, the Alliance didn’t rule him.

When had he become so controlling? As he thought about it, a better question came to him. When haven’t I been so controlling?

It rankled to admit that he’d been wrong. He made a point of never admitting it, in fact. He would splutter, stammer, and refuse to discuss a matte