dig

With thanks to Herbert and Christina Rossetti.

Solid
by Hetre Z

The third day after they got Mal back from Niska, Wash took the shuttle down to the surface and came back with pastry. He set a cruller on the table in front of Mal and said, "Kill it."

River was making tea over by the counter, and boiling Simon's scalpels so he'd have enough clean ones for the surgery later. She watched Mal look down at the table, and then back at Wash, his eyes narrowed.

"I mean it," Wash said. He handed Mal a fork, and made an expansive gesture with his hands. "Go ahead, kill it."

Mal pushed the plate away. "I'm thinking the doctor didn't examine you as thoroughly as he could have."

"I'm serious," Wash said, and moved the plate back. "Niska's the cruller. You kill him first, as slow as you want to. Here, look." He stabbed the fork into the cruller and wiggled it around. "I got a muffin, too. That's Victor."

Mal looked up at Wash and didn't speak. After a moment, he took the fork and began tearing at the cruller with it, holding an edge with his hand and pulling flaky bits away. He did the same for the muffin, jabbing at it with one hand and holding it down with the other. At one point Wash made dying noises, but Mal just looked at him and he stopped.

Afterwards, Wash scooped up the pastry bits one by one and ate them. Mal smiled, but his shoulders were hunched down just as far as they'd been before. River thought she could understand: bread and sugar weren't solid enough. They didn't feel anything like a body.

There was protein pudding in one of the cupboards, and frying pans under the counter. Once Mal and Wash had gone River molded the pudding into a ball and fried it until the outside was hard and the inside was a little runny. She didn't have to try more than once to get it right; most of Simon's cooking turned out like that anyway, so she knew how it worked. She left it down in Mal's bunk, on the table, next to a note that said, "This is Niska," and a kitchen knife.