"Where's your CO?" the sergeant with the newly arrived group of men asked.

"She's over there."

The sergeant looked across at the woman standing a little way off. She was speaking to two of her own men.

"Take Haskins and Myers and get up onto the ridge. I need to know what's going on."

"Frey? Is that you?" The sergeant stared at her.

"Mal? Mal Reynolds?" Freya Nordstrom laughed. "Ain't you dead yet?"

"Too pretty to die," Mal said, hugging the officer and getting some odd looks from her men. His just ignored it.

"Zoe with you?"

"Bringing up the rear." He stepped back and studied her. "Hey, when did you cut your hair?"

"Coupla months ago. Got fed up with it. Kinda kept getting in the way."

"I liked it long. But, hey, this looks good too. Makes you look …powerful."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It's meant that way."

"Well, bring your men in. We have some food, but lots to drink."

---

"So how do you reckon it's fairing?" Mal asked, sitting next to Freya at the small fire.

"Badly. I think. But they don't tell us anything."

"Even high ups like you?"

"Even me."

"Any other officers about?"

"No, I think it's just me. A few sergeants around, like Mac. Like you."

"Still don't see how you got to be a lieutenant."

"Luck. I think I was just the first in line when they said hey you."

Their dugout rattled as a series of bombs exploded close by, dust filtering down. They waited for the blasts to subside. "This happen a lot?" Mal asked, brushing off his coat.

"They've been bombing us for three straight days. You get so you kinda don't notice it. But they're getting closer. And we're getting to be a bigger target every day."

"So what are your orders?"

"Haven't had any for a while."

"So do you have a plan?"

"Oh, I do. And I think it's time." She explained what she intended. Mal was shocked.

"Frey, that's suicide!"

"Not really. Not if we work it right. Besides, who wants to live forever?"

"I do."

"Well, yeah, me too. But there's over a thousand good Independents out there who want to live beyond tomorrow."

"Frey –"

"It's been decided." She called to her own sergeant. "Mac, get the men ready. Sergeant Reynolds' platoon will help us hold the ridge while the men get out. Then we'll cover their retreat and hightail it out of there ourselves, lickety-split."

"You know what will happen if they take you?" Mal said quietly. "What they've been doing to officers?"

"I've heard tell. I'll just look to you to see it doesn't."

---

Up on the ridge, as a thousand Browncoats snaked through the narrow gap, the small number of soldiers fended off the might of the Alliance. Mal never considered he'd committed murder, and he still didn't – this was war – but that day and night he lost track of the number of Alliance he killed, nor could keep count of those ended by Freya, Zoe or any of his men. They brought down three skiffs, exploding into white hot shards on the rocky surface, and still the Independents got through.

At one point, while he was reloading for God knew how many times, he noticed Freya's lips moving as she did the same. He asked, "You praying?"

"Not to your God, no." She reached out and touched the crucifix hanging at his throat.

"Then whose?"

"Something else. Guess any help would be good at this juncture."

"To do with your tattoo?"

She nodded, ducking as a spray of enemy fire hit the rock above them. "It's not good or bad: doesn't interfere in man's affairs. But you can draw power from it."

"Old?"

"Ancient."

"Then pray they don't take you. I meant it when I said what they're doing to officers."

"Then you won't let that happen, will you?" She looked at him, her eyes so dark in the gloom as to be black.

"Got my word on that."

"Thanks. Now let's get that roller out of commission." She hefted the missile launcher to her shoulder.

Finally, by nearly dawn, they were through.

"Go," Freya ordered. "We'll be right behind you."

"Zoe, get the men out," Mal passed on.

"Yes sir." She glanced back only once, to see Mal not following. He was still firing, standing shoulder to shoulder with Freya, protecting their back, covering their retreat. Her expression didn't change as she followed her men.

"I told you to go." Freya took out another soldier.

"Soon as you do."

"That's an order, ser – "

An explosion in front of them knocked them to the ground, fragments of rock hurtling everywhere. Mal pushed himself to his feet, unhurt but a ringing in his ears. He looked around, saw two men dead, another holding his arm. And Freya on the ground, and not moving. He dropped to her side. His fingers at her neck he checked her pulse. Weak, but still pumping, although what it was pumping was beginning to pool beneath her. "Tah mah duh." He yelled over his shoulder. "Mac! Get everyone down now!"

"Is she …"

"No, she ain't. But we can't help her." He dragged an emergency signal from his pack. "They'll have to." He struck the end and it ignited, flaring red. Mac nodded and hurried off the ridge.

Mal paused a moment, then tugged the lieutenant braids from Freya's brown coat, taking any identifying insignia that might let anyone know she was an officer. It was all he could do, all he could give her. One final check and he heard a medevac above, responding to the emergency signal. He touched his lips briefly to hers, then ran, leaping from rock to rock to follow the men they had saved.

"So I spent the next coupla weeks on an Alliance med-ship before being transferred to a holding camp." Freya sipped her coffee, looking at Simon.

"Did they figure out you were an officer?" he asked.

"Well, I was out of it for a while, but, eventually, yes. But by that time any information I had was out of date, so they pretty much left me alone. Besides, the war was nearly over."

"Serenity Valley."

"Mmn."

"Where Mal lost his faith."

Freya shook her head. "Well, he didn't so much lose it as stop trusting. I don't think he's stopped believing in God, just doesn't trust him to do what's right. And from what I heard of that battle, I'm not really surprised."

"So what did the Alliance do? To officers?"

Freya put her feet down from the table, looking at him. "Rumour. Gossip. That's all it was."

"No, tell me."

The woman opposite him leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and he could see she was contemplating what to say, staring into her coffee mug. Then she looked into his face. "If you were injured, the doctors would operate without anaesthetic. Cut on you until you told them everything … anything to make them stop. Or just let you bleed to death. And if you weren't injured, well, you'd need their services soon enough." She gazed into his face, young and appalled. "Like I said, Simon, just rumour."

"Maybe they weren't as highly principled as you, doctor," Mal added, stepping into the dining room from the direction of the bridge.

"And it was war," Freya pointed out. "I'm sure the Independents did some things they aren't proud of. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure they did."

"I … I find that hard to believe," Simon stammered. "Surely even the Alliance …"

"War's long over, doctor," Mal said. "But at times like that people tend to justify anything." He took a tin cup from the cupboard and poured himself a coffee, coming to stand by his crew.

"So we got us a job?" Freya asked, somewhat anxious to change the subject.

"We do." Mal took a mouthful of coffee. "Pick up on Parth, deliver to Osiris."

"Don't we usually smuggle the other way round?"

Mal shook his head. "It's not smuggling. Live cargo."

"A passenger?" Freya was surprised. They didn't often take on fares. "Legit?"

Mal nodded. "Makes something of a change for us, I know."

"Mal, I don't know …" Simon suddenly seemed very uneasy. "Osiris … I know a lot of people there, and if they found out …the Alliance haven't stopped looking for us yet."

"Not your decision."

"But – "

"We're passing close to Bathgate Abbey, aren't we?" Freya interrupted. She could see Mal's face tightening, and he could be very stubborn when he chose.

"Close to," Mal agreed.

Freya looked at Simon. "Why don't you stop off there? You and River could have a rest."

Mal lifted his eyebrows. "You know, that's not a bad idea. You've been looking a mite peeked of late."

"That's …" Simon paused. "Actually that's not a bad idea. I should talk it over with River, though." He stood up and went to pass Mal, but added, "And I'm not looking peeked."

"No?"

Simon strode out towards the guest quarters.

"You shouldn't tease him," Freya admonished, smiling.

Mal sat down opposite her. "Yeah. But it's funny." He leaned back in his chair. "So you were talking about the war."

"Mmn."

"Why?"

"He asked."

"You get on well, you and Simon."

Freya pulled a face. "Oh, please. I've had enough of that from Kaylee!"

"She's a good judge of character."

Freya leaned forward. "Jealous?"

He mirrored her action. "Maybe." They were only a few inches apart.

"Good."

"Good? You know, I'm a mean old man when I get jealous."

"Ooh, how mean? I could just go a little …" She leaned further, just about to kiss him, when …

"Freya?" It was Inara on the com. "Can you come and help me? I need to …" There was a crash like a gong hitting the floor, then Inara said, "Tzao gao!"

Freya smiled. "Hold that thought," she said, then briefly touched her lips to his before standing and leaving the dining area.

Mal idly picked up a book from the table, and turned a few pages.

"Taking a break, sir?" Zoe asked, coming down the steps.

"Just having a cup of coffee before going doing … captainy things." Mal quickly dropped the book. "You seen Hank?"

"Not lately, no, sir. We got a job?"

"We do. With a brief side trip to the Bathgate Abbey."

"Thinking of taking orders?"

"Ha. Ha." Mal gave his first mate one of his looks, which slid off her like water off one of those semi-aquatic mammals. "Hopefully when you've finished having fun at my expense you'll let him know I was looking for him. Right now, though, I think I'll go and try to find someone who appreciates me." He headed for the engine room.

Zoe smiled. Sometimes it felt good to tease her captain.

"Hey, Zoe." Hank came in from the other door.

"Hank. Mal's looking for you."

"Just came looking for … oh, there it is." He picked up the book Mal had been glancing through from the table. "I thought I'd lost it." He looked at the tall woman. "Do you … read? I mean, I'm not suggesting that you can't, but … you know … for pleasure?"

"I have been known to pick up a book occasionally."

"I can lend you some, if you like. I've got quite a collection in my bunk. Any time you wanted to come take a look … They're not porn. Most of them. Unless you're into that sort of thing?" If he could have panted he would have done.

Zoe gazed at him, carefully keeping her face blank. He just wasn't going to give up, she knew. "Thanks," she said. "I'll keep it in mind." She looked over as Freya came back into the dining room. "What was that crash before?"

Freya laughed. "Inara's bought this … thing." She used her hands to indicate something large. "Some kind of metallic mirror. She was trying to get it above the bed, but couldn't quite manage it."

"And she asked you to help?"

"Well, I don't think she could take the comments some of you might be inclined to make." Unaccountably Freya looked at Hank as she said this.

"Hey, I didn't say a word," the man protested.

"Just don't forget Mal's looking for you," Zoe said, heading towards the bunks.

Hank sighed. "Do you think Zoe will ever say yes?" he asked, staring after her.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." He turned back to the other woman.

"Seriously, I doubt it. But then I doubted Mal and I would ever get together, so, hey, what do I know?"

"How long did it take you two to sleep together?"

Freya, knowing this was not going to sound good, sat back down. "Well, actually, seven hours." She added quickly, "But between that and the next time was seven years, so don't read anything into it. Just give her time, and some space. And try not to drool when you see her."

"Right. Not so much with the drooling."

Hank was about to say something else, but Mal's voice came over the com. "Do I actually have a pilot, or am I sufferin' from space hallucinations?"

Hank smiled an apology and ran out of the dining area towards the bridge.

Freya sat quietly, staring into nothing.

"You really didn't think you would ever get together, did you?" Inara asked from behind her.

"Really didn't," Freya agreed. Her friend came and sat opposite.

"Yet you didn't give up."

"I love him." It was a simple statement, but made all the more poignant by the matter of fact way she said it.

Inara nodded, knowing how she felt. "Why didn't you carry on sleeping together? I mean after that first time."

"I'm … I don't know." Freya looked surprised at the question, but also a little lost. "I used to think it was because he didn't enjoy it. I mean, he is a man – it takes a lot for a man not to finish. But I kinda figured he just didn't find me his type. Leastways, not that way. It didn't matter much – not then. We didn't know if we'd live to see out the next week, let along the year or the end of the war. Went our separate ways, but kept running into each other. But …" She paused for a moment, then went on, "Why didn't you tell him you loved him and you'd stop being a Companion for him?"

Inara was surprised. "Would you?"

"In a heartbeat. I'd die for him."

Now Inara was shocked. "You can't mean that."

"Without a moment's thought. I love him. I always have. I realised that morning. I woke up just as the sun was coming up – you know, in that light you get just before. I looked at Mal, lying asleep next to me, and I realised I'd fallen in love with him – a man I hadn't known for twenty-four hours, whose conversation had consisted mainly of his men, his platoon. Yet I loved him."

"But to die for him?"

"Oh, I know he doesn't feel the same. He hardly even tells me that he loves me. But I'm in his bed."

"I didn't know."

"No reason you should." Freya stood up. "This wasn't a conversation I intended to have. Now, I need to get something from my bunk, then I have to finish dinner." She walked out, her head high.

"You really don't tell her you love her?" Inara asked an apparently empty room, but Mal stepped over the sill from the engine room.

"I do." He seemed almost affronted, then apologetic. "Maybe not often when she's awake, but …"

"Mal, she's a woman. She needs it said."

"It's just –" He couldn't finish.

"Why didn't you sleep with her again?" Inara asked, it obviously playing on her mind. "Was it because –"

"No!" Mal interrupted. "No, not at all. In fact, more exactly the opposite." He sat down in Freya's vacated seat; her heat still seemed to be there. "We were at war. Freya was right – none of us had a notion we expected to survive." He had obviously been listening for some time. "But that night, she made me feel hopeful. She gave me a reason to want to live, a strength, and it scared me." It was obviously difficult for him to admit it. "We were already mighty, but she made me feel … complete. And that wasn't a feeling I was used to. We were at war, a war I thought we could win. I didn't think I needed … so I kinda pushed it away, ignored it, denied it ever happened. And I wasn't about to let her get close enough to do it again."

"You do realise you're probably the biggest fool in the 'verse, don't you?"

Mal nodded reluctantly. "I have come to that conclusion more than once or twice myself, yes."

"Then tell her, Mal, tell her. All the time."

"Tell who what?" Freya asked as she came back into the dining area, a small spice container in her hand.

Mal looked guilty. "Um, tell Zoe not to tease Hank." He flashed an apologetic look at Inara, who just looked disgusted back at him.

"I wouldn't say she teases him," Freya said, going behind the counter. "More just ignores him."

"So where are we off to?" Inara asked brightly. "Somewhere civilised, I hope."

"Osiris." Mal stretched in his chair. "Why, thinking of making plans?"

"Someone on this boat has to make an honest living," she said as she got up, heading back towards her shuttle.

"Hey, this is honest!" Mal called, but she ignored him, passing Simon as he came back in.

"We'll go the Abbey," he said without preamble.

"Shiny."

"But I'd like to take Kaylee with us."

Mal stood up. "Now, doctor – "

"I think that's a good idea," Freya interrupted. "She could do with a rest, a break away from here. With what she's been through, it'll be good for her, Mal. And the baby."

"Well, I … We should only be a few days, so I suppose I could spare her for that time." Mal crossed his arms. "But if something goes wrong in the meantime?"

"I'm sure between us we can put a lot of things right," Freya said soothingly. She stood up. "Well, better finish dinner."

Mal didn't answer, just glared at her.

"Can I help?" Simon asked. "I mean I stopped you while you were preparing. I feel guilty."

"Sure." Freya smiled at him, and Mal felt something akin to a stab of jealousy. Probably not a bad idea to get that young man off his boat for a while, after all.