No Good Deed

"You know," he says as they stand in line, "you really don't have to do this."

"Mal." She gives him an all too familiar look, the look that says Quit being so dense. "We already talked about this. If I'm part of the crew, then I need to do the work."

He can't reply because they have reached the head of the line and the admissions clerk is asking for their tickets. He hands them over, using his peripheral vision to study the guard that stands off to the side. According to the client's notes, there will be a guard at every doorway, and several circulating around the exhibit hall itself. The clerk studies their tickets, holds them up to a special lamp, nods, rips the two little papers in half, and hands the stubs back to Mal. "Enjoy the exhibit," he tells them.

"We will," Mal assures him, placing a hand on his companion's arm and guiding her past the little stand. Past the guard, through the doorway, and as they enter the room proper Mal stops and stares. The client had told him what to expect, but there is always a difference between imagining and seeing. This time, seeing is better than imagining.

According to the write-up, it's been over a year since the archaeologists discovered this collection of items. Mal, like any layman, knows that scientists are a finicky bunch. He suspects that they could have opened this exhibit within a month of the find and still had people beating down the door. But now, standing here, he's glad that someone took the time to do this right: The largest ever exhibit of Earth-That-Was artifacts.

It's a decent size hall; he estimates that both shuttles would fit comfortably in here, side by side, and still have room to walk around both of them. The high ceiling draws some of the heat away from the mass of humanity that covers the floor, circulating, admiring. Mal stands at the top of a short flight of stairs, probably built for this very view. The lighting is at a perfect level, with spotlights picking out the individual pieces. Down there, somewhere, is the reason that he is here tonight. But it can wait for a moment…

A gentle nudge in the ribs brings Mal back to himself. Sheepishly, he grins at her, and together they descend into the crowd. For the first time, Mal is glad that Inara is helping him to case the place.

Scratch that. Mal never regrets spending time with Inara, especially since the events of Miranda. He still regrets that he managed to drive her off the first time, and is a little sorry that he destroyed her place at the Training House. He's not sorry that he rode straight into a trap to rescue her (really, can it be a trap since he knew it was coming?), and he's very glad that she (and the others) had his back on Mr. Universe's moon. Having her back on the boat helps to fill some of the gaping void left by Wash's death.

Though he'd never admit it out loud, tonight he's glad that she is part of his crew. Anyone who looks in their direction ends up gazing at her and barely noticing him, moving aside to allow the lady to pass. This gets the pair as close as possible to the exhibits, allowing Mal the opportunity to study both objects and security measures with equal scrutiny. Though he normally doesn't have time for history, Mal is fascinated by the sheer array of stuff that the archaeologists uncovered. He and Inara have already admired a table and chair, an old-fashioned lamp, and a twenty-first century computer. Amazing, really, what his ancestors managed to pack on those spaceships… "Bingo," he mutters, spotting the next exhibit. Hearing his tone, Inara follows his gaze, nodding acknowledgment. She steps slightly ahead of him, and the crowd parts once more for her. Within seconds, they stand in front of a display of small items.

"Magnets reported to belong to the German physician Franz Mesmer," Inara reads aloud. "Used in hypnotherapy of patients." She turns to look at Mal, slightly incredulous. "That's them?"

"That's them," he agrees, understanding her confusion. What the client wants with three magnets, each of which can't be much longer than his middle finger, is beyond him. Then again, they are Earth-That-Was artifacts, and the guy is a collector of rare antiquities, so maybe it's not that difficult to figure out. "See anything?" he asks, keeping his voice low and turning his attention to the display case itself. The glass doesn't look too thick, but he suspects that there may be lasers inside the display… Yes, there are the projection lenses.

"Nothing obvious," she replies. "Mal are you sure-"

"Come on," he cuts her off, wrapping her hand in his, tugging slightly. "Let's go check out the other pieces." He turns away from the pedestal, walking only a step before someone collides with him. Grunting in surprise, he reaches out his free hand to grab and steady the other person. "Sorry," he apologizes.

"Entirely my fault," she replies. "I really should watch where I'm going." Her accent catches Mal's attention because it sounds almost like Badger's, except it's more refined. Then he gets a good look at her.

The woman who ran into him is of average height, like Inara. Like Inara, there is nothing average about her looks. High cheekbones dominate her face, balanced by full lips drawn in a half smile. Mal's eyes continue down her figure, noting the casual yet dressy shirt and vest, the tan pants tucked into dark knee-high boots. He pulls his eyes back up to meet hers and is a little startled to recognize the cool, calculating look there; it's the same look he sees in the mirror every morning.

"No, he's an oaf," Inara's voice breaks in to his musings. "Our apologies." She wraps her free hand around Mal's bicep and pulls him to the side, away from the woman. He follows her lead, shaking his head to clear it. Those eyes…. "Mal."

"What?" He turns to meet Inara's gaze.

"I asked if you are okay." Amusement tugs at the corner of her mouth. "She didn't hurt you, did she?"

"Woman, are you mocking me?"

Now she's smirking at him. "Considering your track record, I think that it's a perfectly valid question." Before he can say anything else, she turns away, tugging on his hand and leading him back through the crowd to where two familiar figures are standing by a display of kitchenware.

"Sir," Zoe greets him. "Did you find it?"

"Yup. How are things outside?"

"All taken care of," Jayne replies, looking ill at ease in such a large crowd. Not too surprising, Mal thinks, considering they all had to leave their weapons on the ship. "Now what?" the large mercenary asks.

"You two head back to the ship and make sure everything's ready for tonight. We'll stay for a bit, make sure that we didn't miss anything."

"I thought we had seen everything we needed," Inara comments as the other pair heads for the exit.

Mal shakes his head. "Clearly, I still got a lot to teach you about tactics. We only saw 'bout half the trinkets."

She's smiling at him again, a genuine smile this time. "Why Captain Reynolds, you do know how to show a lady a good time."

He can't help smiling back at her. "C'mon," he says, tugging her hand. Together, they continue to the next display.

Mal has never liked nighttime raids. The dark, the armed security systems, everything combines to really drive home the fact that he's actually thieving. Okay, it's not like he hasn't stolen before, and his crew are looking to him to put food on the table and get paid, but it doesn't change the fact that nighttime jobs give him the creeps.

Maybe it's the fact that there's no crowd to disappear in to after things go wrong. Take tonight, for example: The street outside the museum is devoid of anyone except the occasional pedestrian, usually a local lawman. Mal, Zoe, and Jayne have been careful to keep to the shadows around the building as they make their way to the window Zoe gimmicked earlier in the day. With a final warning for Jayne, who has sentry duty, Mal and Zoe duck inside.

Another reason Mal hates the night is that it's so quiet. Quiet in the black is nice. Quiet during a job? Not so much. During daylight hours, all kinds of noises can disguise a dropped item or swearwords when you run into something in an unfamiliar place. But tonight? The duo's breathing sounds abnormally loud in the silent museum. As they duck behind a large sculpture to avoid a guard, Mal has to keep reminding himself that his heartbeat is no louder than usual, that the guard can't hear it at all.

Finally, the patrol moves on, and Mal leads the way around the corner to the Earth-That-Was display. The entranceway to the special exhibit hall has an added layer of security in the form of two cameras, but these don't worry Mal. As the client told them, and Mal's team confirmed that very day, the cameras are fixed; while their fields of view overlap, there is a slight gap in the coverage. Taking a deep breath, Mal flattens himself to the wall and creeps slowly, oh so slowly, to the doorway. Finally, he slides around the corner and pauses in the shadows to catch his breath and survey the room.

In contrast to earlier, the room sits now in near-perfect darkness. Here and there, spotlights have been left on, picking out several of the larger pieces and providing enough light to navigate by. Thankfully, the light over the magnets is not one of these. Keeping to the shadows, Mal heads down the stairs. He can barely make out the sound of Zoe's boots on the floor behind him. According to plan, she finds a spot in the shadows of a display near the bottom of the stairs and crouches down, keeping an eye on the doorway. Meanwhile, Mal heads for the display case where the magnets are kept.

He's almost made it when an electric crackling sound shatters the silence. Reflexively, Mal drops behind the nearest display case, gun drawn. Senses razor-sharp, he scans the room, searching for the source of the noise. "Zoe?" he whisper-shouts. "Zoe!"

No answer. Mal scans the room again, and spots a familiar arm lying on the ground. Before he can move to investigate, something cold touches him right behind the ear. "Liu kou shui de biao-tze hue hoe-tze de ben ur-tze."

"Such language," a soft voice admonishes him. "Your weapon, please." Mal raises his hand and loosens his grip, allowing his gun to be removed. "Good boy. Now then—urgh!"

With speed born of training and desperation, Mal grabs the hand holding the gun on him and rises, using strength and surprise to swing his attacker around in front of him. Something, it feels like a foot, hooks him behind the knee, bringing him back down. His knees hit the floor with a painful crack, but he manages to hang on to the arm, and even catches a second hand as it flies towards his face. Exerting all of his strength, he forces his attacker's arms down until he can see the face to which they belong. His eyes widen in surprise. "You!"

The striking woman from earlier in the day does not appear as surprised as him. "Well, you're not much of an oaf after all, are you?" The half-smile is gone, and even in the dim light Mal can still see the calculating look in her eyes. "Why are you after the magnets?"

"Shuh muh?"

The look she gives him reminds him of Zoe. "Come now my good man, I did see you scoping out the security arrangements earlier today."

There is really nothing to say to this, but Mal's mouth has always run ahead of his brain. "You ran into me on purpose!" he blurts out, barely remembering to keep his voice down so as not to alert any passing security guards to their presence. A faint smile traces her lips, but before she can reply an unmistakable sound reaches Mal's ears: the scuff of shoe on marble. Someone else is in the exhibit hall.

She hears it, too. Her eyes flick back towards the entrance, and Mal seizes his chance. Once more, he tries to throw off her grasp. Once more, he is unsuccessful. In a move too quick to follow, she frees her hand and aims a right funny-lookin' gun at him. Green lightning shoots from the barrel, accompanied by a crackling sound Mal recognizes. 'Least I know what happened to Zoe. His muscles spasm, dropping him prone on the floor. He struggles to stay awake, wanting to know who got the drop on them, and though it takes a powerful effort, he's mostly successful. His brain is clearly addled by the lightning, however. How else could he explain the fact that the two men walking past him right now look identical to those gorram blue hands what trailed River for a time? Mal never saw them personally, but he remembers their handiwork all too well. Or does he? His brain is feelin' a mite fuzzy…

Faster'n'a bolt of lightning, the woman pops up from behind another display a few feet away (and when did she get over there?) and fires another blast of green light, this time at the two interlopers. They respond so quick and smooth that Mal instantly knows they've had training: At the first sound from the gun, both men drop low to avoid the emerald bolt and pull their own peculiar weapons. One signs something to the other. Mal can't see what, exactly, since they're off to his side and he can't really move right now, but the one puts his gun away and begins moving away all stealthy-like, keeping low and staying behind the display cases whenever possible. The second guy, meanwhile, fires a shot of his own towards the woman, the bolt of blue lightning hitting the floor right beside the pedestal she's crouching behind. She shoots back, and the room is briefly lit with a tiny fireworks display of blue and green light. Mal wonders briefly why no guards have come running when he notices the second Blue Hand crouched by the magnets' display case. Somehow, the man got the case open and is hastily shoving the little metal bars into a silver pouch of some kind, adding purply-gold sparks to the light show.

Mal blinks to clear his eyes, but when he opens them again Blue Hand Two has drawn his own weapon and is aiming it at the woman. Before Mal can call out a warning, Two fires. The lightning catches the woman full in the back, knocking her down and out. Looking satisfied, Two walks right in front of Mal's face, not even looking at the captain. Turning his head doesn't take as much effort now, and Mal is able to follow Two as he meets up with One and the pair exits the room. Total elapsed time since the woman shot Mal: probably two minutes. Maybe. That is, assuming the lightning didn't addle Mal's brain too much…

Shaking his head to clear it doesn't hurt too badly, so Mal decides the effects of the Lightning Gun are wearing off. His arms obey his brain's command to move, and he's able to push himself up onto hands and knees, although he can't quite suppress a groan of discomfort. An answering groan brings his head snapping up faster than is probably advisable. "Zoe?"

"Here, sir," she replies. Scuffling and scraping sounds ensue, and just as Mal is contemplating standing his partner walks over. She's a little wobbly, but doesn't look any worse for the wear. "What happened?" she asks, extending her hand.

He takes it, and she gently pulls him upright. The room sways for a moment, and he shuts his eyes tight, willing it to stop. It does. "Don't rightly know," he answers Zoe's question, opening his eyes once more, "'sides the fact that our ambusher was ambushed." Looking around, he locates said ambusher and heads towards her. Kneeling sets the room spinning again, but he grits his teeth and keeps going, reaching out to touch the woman's neck. "Got a pulse." He doesn't know why he's surprised; the woman's Lightning Gun didn't kill him or Zoe, so why would the guns of the Blue Hands kill her? Then again, who's to say the Blue Hands won't be back to finish the job?

"We best be going, sir," Zoe reminds him.

She's right; the last thing they need is for someone to find them now. That'd be the icing on the protein cake of this hun-dan job. 'Course, it'd be nice to understand why the job went to Hell in a hand basket… "Gimme a hand," Mal tells Zoe.

"Sir?"

"I want answers," Mal explains, rolling the woman over and attempting to pull her up. Thankfully, Zoe moves to help him. "And I think she has 'em." Between the two of them, they get Mal standing upright once more, the woman slung over his shoulder. As quickly as possible, Mal makes for the exit. Zoe only stops long enough to collect their weapons before following. Now, Mal thinks, if we can just avoid any police-type folks and get back to my ship, maybe I can get those answers.

"Gorram it, Mal!" Jayne shouts for the umpteenth time.

Mal's head is starting to hurt, mostly due to Jayne's shouting, but before he can reply in kind Simon speaks up.

"If you can't keep your voice down, I'll have to ask you to leave my infirmary." Jayne glares at the back of the doc's head, but subsides. Simon carries right on with his doctoring of Mal, apparently oblivious to Jayne's death gaze. Someday, Mal promises himself, he'll get the story behind the doc's control of the big mercenary.

"'S not like Cap'n had a choice, Jayne," Kaylee pipes up. She's standing on the opposite side of the infirmary, helping Zoe wrap her ankle. Mal winces; if Zoe hadn't been suffering from the effects of electric shock and trying to keep an eye on him and his "passenger", she would have easily noticed and avoided that divot in the park. But she hadn't, and so when Kaylee greeted them on their return both Mal and Jayne each carried a woman in their arms. Thankfully, Doc declared Zoe's ankle was only sprained. "He was shot, after all," the mechanic continues.

"More like shocked," Simon clarifies, finally stepping back. "You're lucky."

"How so?" Mal asks, incredulous.

"Take a look," Inara tells him. She's standing next to him, holding out the Lightning Gun. "See here?" She points to a dial on the grip that Mal hadn't noticed before. "Kaylee says that controls how powerful the discharge is."

"You mean it can be stronger?" Mal doesn't like the sound of that.

"That's right Cap'n," Kaylee answers. "I guess it could kill a person, if she wanted it to."

Hearing those words, Jayne makes a grab for the pistol, but Inara levels her own death glare at him, and he pulls back. "Just wanted to try it out," he mutters.

"There'll be no trying out on my boat," Mal informs him.

"Don't see why we had to grab her anyway," Jayne sulks, gazing at the figure lying on the one infirmary bed. "She's the reason we didn't get the goods, so she's the reason we won't be gettin' paid."

"Which is precisely why I grabbed her," Mal informed him. "She can give us answers." I hope. "Doc," he continued, dropping down from his seat on the counter and moving toward the woman, "you got something that can wake her up?"

"Not necessary." River's voice emanates from behind Jayne, making the big man jump and start swearing.

"Lil' Albatross," Mal greets his pilot. "Are we-?"

"No sign of pursuit," she interrupts, stepping around Jayne and into the infirmary. "We have left the planet's gravity well and are accelerating away at a steady rate. I engaged the autopilot," she states, answering Mal's unvoiced concern. She looks back at their passenger. "She's already awake."

Mal looks down, and sure enough, the woman's eyes are open. She gives him a brief nod. Mal sighs. "Judging from your lack of questions, I'm guessing you've heard most of what's been said, so you know how my crew and I feel about you. I'd surely appreciate it if you cooperate, because otherwise I'll be forced to let Jayne here," Mal motioned to the mercenary, who grinned, "test out that fancy gun of yours, using you as a target."

"That won't be necessary," she states. She is remarkably calm for someone facing a grinning Jayne. "How may I be of service?"

Questions buzz through Mal's mind, crying out to be answered by the woman. Actually, come to think of it, he can't keep calling her 'the woman'. "What's your name?"

"Helena."

Mal can tell she's hiding something. He could leave it go, but if she holds back here, what will she hold back later? "Helena what?"

She lets out a quiet sigh. "Helena G. Wells."

The way she says the name, it sounds like there's something important about it, but nothing is ringing any bells in Mal's mind. He looks up, his gaze landing on Zoe, who looks equally confused.

"Oh my God," Simon breathes. Mal turns to the doc, who looks like he's seen a ghost. "H. G. Wells."

Author's Note: Dun dun dunnnn! Another year, another crossover from the strange place that is my mind. I hope that you like it so far!