DISCLAIMER: Firefly, Serenity and all characters, terminology, places and names used within those works and all subsequent licensed works are copyright Joss Whedon, Tim Minear, Fox, Universal and affiliates. Don't sue me.

A/N: I came up with this idea a while ago, but never got around to starting the writing process. Since conception, Joss has gone and added to our 'verse with the Better Days series. I will do my best to incorporate this into what I haven't yet written, but the plot was already decided – I'm not going to change the whole story because of it. That considered – this will be slightly AU.

Also, to avoid falling into the trap of making it an over dramatized and obvious event that all readers can see coming from a mile away, I'll just come out and say that Wash and Book are alive. I've got my reasons for thinking they should be. Ask if you feel so inclined. But all the events of Serenity did take place – Wash and Book just happened to live through them.

That's enough talk. Let's get on with it…

…And Out Come the Wolves

by Distance

Prologue

"Get him to the infirmary, now!"

The harsh command cut through the night's sky, harsher than the dying down gunfire. It was as if the voice's intensity commanded both sides of their scuffle to silence. It held a certain tone many of the surrounding witnesses had never heard. None except one.

"Sir!" Zoe grabbed Mal's arm, stopping him mid-stride. The look on her face painted a clear story for the Captain to read, one that he recognized right away. He appreciated the silence, though. Behind her, Jayne dragged the limp body of a man – a young man – back to the boat, leaving quite a trail of blood in his wake.

"Doesn't matter. Gorram go se doesn't matter. His coat is still brown." His eyes had a certain forced softness to them that he only ever bothered to put on for Zoe, but his face was hard and determined. He didn't want that kid in the infirmary any more than she did, but what had to be done had to be.

Three days earlier…

"Zeke? Who the hell is Zeke?" Jayne asked, slamming whatever his choice borderline gasoline-alcohol was for the day. It had been decent of them, helpin' out folk with what they did on Miranda and all, but it didn't pay. Though he'd not admit it out loud, it was one job he didn't mind doing for free. But not only was it free, it cost them a sizeable amount of coin, and that wasn't even calculating Serenity. The help from the operative did move things along without having to come out of pocket, but the old girl still had a long way to go.

Anything not guaranteeing money was nowhere near Jayne's to-do list. A new client definitely didn't sound like guaranteed money to him.

"Big fella. I know the name, and the reputation." Wash spoke up, sounding a bit nervous. And he had good reason. "What I'm not getting is why we're working for him? Didn't he want to steer clear of us? Isn't that why we've had to deal with Fanty and Mingo in the first place?" He had his doubts about this job. Him having doubts meant he was on Jayne's side. Being on Jayne's side made Wash more nervous than anything this Zeke could throw at them.

"That's right. I seem to recall being called a 'liability' when we approached him last, Sir." After almost losing her man, Zoe had become inclined to take his side over the Captain's, even if she didn't necessarily mean it.

Unfortunately, Mal knew this wasn't one of those times. If he were in her shoes – their shoes, correcting his thoughts as he remember the rest of the crew – this would all stink something funny to him, too.

"I know it. But what we done has had strange effects. Fanty and Mingo won't touch us. I imagine Badger's feelin' a mite similar, but I ain't fixin' to work with that low-life anytime soon anyhow. Leechan… well, yeah. All of which, I ain't troubled too greatly about. Losin' the unwanted scum ain't one of my concerns, but the lost work won't help fuel the boat."

"So shouldn't that be puttin' us lower on the list of new clients," Wash questioned, his own heavily sarcastic version of Captain-Dumbie-Talk heavy in the air.

"Should, but ain't – hence the strangeness. 'Parently this Zeke fellow ain't terribly fond of the Alliance, so we're bumped up."

A mention of Alliance – perhaps some talk of history was going on? Simon's mind awoke from its stupor at the thought that something other than crime – something he might have been familiar – was discussed. He felt so terribly out of place as these war-room meetings. "Was he an Independent?"

"Not as far as I can tell. If he was, I never heard of him." She was fairly sure, but Zoe turned, as did the other six heads in the room, to Mal for the answer.

"Most like he's just a business man that's sick of paying Alliance payrolls out of his profits." A lie.

Well, not a definite lie. But certainly a very unlikely scenario. No one got the kind of clout and name recognition a guy like Zeke had by just trying to cut the Alliance out of a few thousand credits of back taxes. But the crew seemed to buy it, even those that should be smart enough to know better. He appreciated the uncontesting silence. If Zoe or Wash had any questions, they'd know they'd find out when some privacy was to be had. As for the rest, no need to spook the youngin's based on a suspicion.

This bar was shady enough. Not located in the best part of town – which, surprisingly enough, there were some decently ritzed looking parts of – but not exactly the slums. All sorts of disreputables scattered about, drinks a plenty being served. A few fairly common looking folk seeming somewhat uncomfortable, but doing their best to look like they fit in all while cursing whatever friend told them this was a "nice place." But something was off.

He knew Mal wouldn't want him drinking yet – he barely tolerated him drinking on the job as it was, let alone with this fancy new boss-man around – but Jayne couldn't stop himself from unconsciously running a hand across the counter of the bar as he passed. He paused. That was it.

The Captain always needed to meet a boss or target or enemy or anything of the like face to face. That's how he read things. He read the people. Mal was a complete an utter moron at the best of times, but even Jayne had to admit that things did turn out a mite better when Mal got to judge a person up front. Jayne didn't read people like that. He read a person base on the place he kept. Whether it be a home, an office, a business – whatever – that's how he saw things. His momma had noticed this in him at an early age. She wasn't much educated, but she liked to talk fancy every now and again when she felt so inclined. She gave him some psycho-babble explaining it to him, but he didn't much care. It was there and every so often it help. Good enough for him.

And that's what was up. This whole place had a wrong feeling to it. Maybe not if they were there for a drink – he woulda just figured this wasn't his kind of bar – but they were here for work. And for work, this place was too… clean. Bad lighting, lots of corners, a few too many doors and a few too little employees – all shady enough for the likes of what must've been dealt with. Way too clean, though. Something wasn't right about all this.

Jayne fell back into line behind Zoe, who had her usual spot behind Mal. As they approached the door farthest from the entrance – the Stereotypical Shady Boss Man Office Door – they were cut off by a hulking, tan figure in a nice black dress shirt.

"Sorry, only Reynolds."

Mal snorted and broke the uneasy silence that had settled since they left Serenity. The silence hit around the same time they all simultaneously noticed that this town – almost city, for that matter – was a little too nice and well put together for a border moon.

"All due respect, I don't know your boss. That means I ain't got any terrible inclination to trust him – at least not enough to leave the help behind."

"I can assure you, Captain, that it will just be you and Mr. Z in that room. Everyone's here for business, not trouble. Unfortunately, whether you trust me or not, you don't really have a choice. You alone, or no job."

Alright, that did it. The nice streets. The few well dressed folk. The clean bar. And now a meeting alone – this was ruttin' wrong. And Jayne was fixin' to do something about it - -

"Besides, your crew can take their leave at the bar. Drinks on the house."

Nevermind.

Zeke's rather staggering stature stood in full glory over the seated Malcolm Reynolds. Seated or not, the Captain would've felt like a midget – the man couldn't have been much less than seven feet. "So, I take it you understand you're in the big leagues now. Bigger pay off, but bigger risk. Moreso than that, bigger sacrifices and… bending of morals. Of course, you can always back out. Stay a big fish in a little pond, but something tells me you ain't that kind of Captain."

Mal allowed himself a small smirk. He had always heard rumors that he had a rep for bent morals and a few unneccisary bodies. Sometimes he hated it. He didn't today. "Even if'n I was, I ain't got much choice. We're hard up for work, and I got a crew to be providin' for."

"Yes, and I've heard tales of how pliable your morals can become when survival is at stake." The memory of his poor Serenity, all dolled up like a gorram reaver flashed in Mal's mind's eye. As if he knew, the large man took on a sickening grin. "A trait that seems to be mutually beneficial."

"I suppose so."

"You understand, I can't rightly trust you yet. You pulled off quite a thing with what your crew did. Most others couldn't. Most others wouldn't. But I neither know the details nor do I care to. I don't know if you can follow my orders."

At that, Mal's smirk slid away along with any pleasure he might've been developing towards the way this meeting was going. "I seem to remember this conversation taking place last time we talked about work. If you can't trust me, why am I here?"

"Before I couldn't trust you, didn't need you and wasn't willing to find out if you were worth the trouble. Now I just can't trust you."

"Sounds like your fixin' to give us a test," Mal commented, eyebrow raising.

"No test, just a small part of a big job. You and your crew blow it – it still has a confident chance to stand without you, so it ain't exactly trusting you yet. You don't, there'll be more. Big parts to play. If you do botch it, well… I doubt more work from me will be on the top of your list of worries."

"Still sounds like a test. We don't test for free."

"Wouldn't expect you to. I'm sure you know the drill – half now, half later. First half's with my man. He should be meeting your people soon."

That sounded fair…

"Wait! What do you mean, 'your man'?"

Zeke let out a hearty laugh. "Of course. I told you – you have a small part. You and your crew are as extras in this. I provide the star."

A/N: Please review! I'm putting this on FF.N so I can get feedback on whether or not I should even be wasting my time with this little writing exercise. Constructive criticism is more than welcome, but I don't mind ego boosts. ;)