Round 7, Challenge 1, Mal

[vae]

Title: Serenity's Soul
Author: woodsong_1978
Character: Mal Reynolds
Rating: PG-13
Question: #1) What non-living thing are you most attached to, and why?
Disclaimer: I have no rights over the character or person of Malcolm Reynolds. More's the pity.
Author's Notes: Must have caught Mal in a good mood. He got talkative.
Comments: Craved. Con-crit always welcome.

You even need to ask me that question? Well, since you're asking it, seems you do. And could be you're right, could be the matter warrants more'n a moment's consideration.

First answer comes to mind ain't gonna surprise no one that's met me, but I'm wondering, how'd you class non-living? 'Cause my girl, my Serenity, she ain't never had a momma or a daddy save the mechanics as put her together, but she surely does have a soul. Got a voice too, lets me know when she's hurting, sometimes even speaks to me when she's happy, flying along out there, going through the black peaceful as you like, just her and me and the stars. 'Course, times like those, there ain't a lot needs saying. And she breathes, most certain she breathes, steady rhythm of her heartbeat from the engine room driving the air through her corridors and crannies, keeps us all breathing right along with her. As for a personality, well, you just ask little Kaylee regarding that one. She'll tell you my girl's a character all of her own. No one or nothing else like her in the 'verse.

So, how can you tell if she's living or not? She breathes, she talks, she sure as hell eats judging by the latest set of costs for fuel and parts, moves around a fair bit, watches over the pack of us. And the soul of her's there to keep company when the nights get long, ain't a one of the crew won't tell you that. Even known the doctor to keep her company, some nights, and that man don't hold no fantasies in his head, let me tell you. Least, not that kinda fantasies.

So, if Serenity's living, conjure the thing's gotta be my gun. Smoothest action I ever did find in a pistol, fits my hand like a part of me, kept me company longer'n I care to remember. Took her with me day I left home, and if the day ever comes I do go back, she'll be right there alongside me. Got a character, sure, but she don't talk. Don't have a soul. Pistols, they don't have souls. Built to take them, not hold them.

Kept me company through the war, been with me since before Zoë, even. Most like she'll be keeping me company long after Zoë's moved on.