Disclaimer: Firefly and its affiliates are property of Joss Whedon.

Judgment Day, the 17th

In the bellows of Serenity, silence dominated. The ticking of the engine pipes as they cooled echoed throughout, but not a sigh nor a footstep accompanied them. There was darkness, broken every now and again by a feeble lamp lit to lead the way deep into the ship. There was steel and cold walls, there was dead air. There was silence.

Jayne sat on his bunk, head down, shoulders hunched. The room surrounding him was bleak, small and dim. His brow was dry and cool. His hands, bound together with thick nylon rope generally used for climbing asteroid rock, sat in his lap.

The ladder leading down to his bunk opened, and Jayne lifted his eyes to see who would enter. Mal stepped down lightly, facing his hired man with a worrisome look in his eyes. The guard who stood in front of the door pulled the ladder shut, and the light pouring in from upstairs was snapped off. Even in the dark, Jayne knew the look on Mal's face was not a pleased one. He let his eyes drop again.

In less than an hour, pending a miracle, Jayne was going to be hanged.

Three days prior, the 14th

The moon where they landed was suited for just about everyone. It was far enough from the Rim where Alliance hospitals and businesses would dare venture there, but far into deep space enough where smugglers could work their trades. Truly, if anywhere, this place was middle class. Mal approved of it because it was somewhere he could get lost, but keep in touch with friends. Small enough to know people, big enough to remain a stranger.

Serenity was not lacking for work these days, although in the underworld of illegal doings there was never enough to live comfortably. Having just made a hefty heist from the Intergalactic Message Center, where the likes of Mr. Universe would have combusted from the endless possibilities of communication located there, Captain Malcolm Reynolds and his crew of miscreants looked forward to a day of relaxation before jumping into another illegal dealing. Now that they possessed such wealth of information paraphernalia, they were free to dispose of it as they pleased. Bootlegged computer chips, fiber optic technology known only to the most elite of businesses, storage units capable of holding over 300 GB of information that were smaller than postage stamp… Serenity had it all. She was sitting atop a mountain of technological treasure that could buy her crew's comfort for the next several years.

Cashing in one the goods was, surprisingly, going to be the most difficult part of the entire operation. It had been a breeze (more or less) getting into the warehouse where everything was stored, and getting out proved even simpler still. The trick was unloading their cache. What they carried was information and equipment the common man would not obtain, not even if he called in a few million favors from every higher-up. The minute word got out that a person or business was using such advanced tools, the Alliance would be all over their operation and shutting them down before they knew what was happening. While the technology Serenity carried had benefits, there was no disputing this, it was a risky deal to make and everyone who'd be interested in what they had to offer would know it.

Still, Malcolm was not too worried. The way the verse was advancing every day, it would only be a matter of months before a leak got out and started dispersing the technology anyway. If he could convince people they should buy it now, and hold it, they'd be getting a better deal in the long run. Mal was good at convincing anyone of pretty much anything.

Once the ship had touched ground, the questions began.

"Mal, can we stay for the day?"

"Sir, what supplies do we need?"

"Can we stop eating hardtack once we've unloaded the cargo?"

"Cap'n, Serenity's been coughing something awful the last few takeoffs, can I get that steel sprocket I've been begging for to replace the porcelain one? I think it's cracked and ain't turnin like it should."

"Okay!" Mal shouted, answering all of them at once. "Listen up, cuz I ain't saying this but the one time. We can't get anything 'till we move some of our trade, dong ma?" Everyone nodded. "Good. Zoe, Jayne, you two come with me for the negotiations. Kaylee, if you like, look around for your parts. If all goes well, you can shiny up Serenity like a damn prom queen."

"Shiny!" Kaylee beamed. "Simon," she asked sweetly, "do you need anything in town?"

"Not really," he admitted, before noticing the sparkle in her pretty eyes. "Oh!" he exclaimed, finally getting the hint, "I mean yes, yes I do. Ah… bandages. And tape. And, and… gauze." He looked at Mal, who stared right back. "I do need to go. With Kaylee. For supplies and such."

Mal shrugged, trying not to laugh. "Okay, whatever keeps us running. Kaylee take care of the ship, the doc can take care of the crew. Anyone else?" Specifically, he looked at River, since everyone else was accounted for.

She shook her head, long hair swishing dismally. "Stay with the ship. Want to have a word with someone."

Mal nodded, not having a clue who the someone might be. Maybe a person in her head, he didn't know. Didn't matter much anyway. "Okay," he announced, "let's get to business. Be back on the ship before sundown and we won't leave without you."

As they rode the mule toward downtown, Simon leaned close to Kaylee. "Will she be okay, do you think? Alone on the ship?"

"I'm sure," Kaylee assured him. "Mal gave her one of those fancy wrist communicators, the one that gets a signal up to a thousand miles away. He's got one, so if there's trouble he'll know."

"But what if… it's something he can't help with?"

Kaylee smiled warmly, and as always Simon's heart melted. "She's been better. I'm sure she'll be okay alone for just a while. We can hurry, if you like." Simon smiled, because he did not want to say aloud that he did want to hurry, just in case Kaylee thought it meant he didn't want to spend time with her.

Alone on the ship River walked the hallways, her head cocked slightly. In the engine room the general hum of the motor was all to be found. The kitchen hold only spices, the crew quarters held no interest to her. He was on the bridge, sitting in the pilot's chair, his head in his hands.

It was Wash, and he was sad. Sad, she supposed, because he was dead.

River had seen him around the ship many times before now, and for a long time she believed he was a memory not her own, a manifestation of the great sadness the former pilot had left in his wake. Some days he would walk around, looking hollow and pale and almost ethereal. He would light the dark hallway as he walked down it, his head low and a sad look in his eyes. Every member of the crew would pass him by, unknowing he watched them go, his fingers sometimes outstretched as though he could touch them simply by wanting to.

For a while, River watched Wash with a wary eye, knowing her own senses betrayed her. She understood them better now, and had even gotten to a point where she would know what was a false memory and what was true, although they still frightened her either way. Wash seemed like a hopelessly false image that would never go away. She had never believed in ghosts, yet as time drew on and months went by with the same phantom of the man roaming the ship in woe, River began to wonder. It was only when she caught Wash sitting on the outside of the ship, alabaster wings spread gloriously out behind him, did River actually believe that every time she saw him it was not just a memory being played back in her eyes. Today she was determined to find out for sure.

She approached the ghost carefully, her stocking feet silent on the floor. "Is he always sad?" she asked timidly. Wash's image did not look up. "Is he dead?" she asked, a bit louder. This time he stirred, looking casually over his shoulder at her. He watched her, only a bit intrigued. "Is he always sad?' she repeated.

As though not sure whether or not he was being addressed, Wash nodded.

"Why is he sad?" River wanted to know. "Is he not where he always loved?"

Wash got to his feet, watching River's eyes. They were on him. He wasn't sure what to think about this new development. If anyone was to see him, he wasn't the least surprised it was River. But the fact that she could see him- actually see him- was miraculous.

River took a few steps forward. It was only Wash, she had to remind herself. If it were a specter that wished her harm, he would have done so long ago. This was not a mere image of someone she had cared about, it was his soul and spirit. He would not hurt her. She hoped. "Is it hard to be where you are?" she asked curiously.

"Yes," he said. "Very much." His voice was soft and full of light, and if River hadn't been looking right at him she was sure she wouldn't have even know he'd spoken.

Taking a seat beside him, the girl stared at the man she had once known. His skin looked like silvery wax, shiny and fake. Still, there was a beauty to him she'd never know in him before. "Is the spirit trapped here?"

Crying a little, Wash smiled. "I watch you, keep you safe."

River smiled as well, knowing for sure he was here as a benign presence. She had a million questions to ask him, and Wash patiently answered them all, just glad someone knew he was there.

------------------------------------------

Mal immediately liked Kirk Bennett. He was a no-nonsense, simply man who didn't like to bullshit with business. There was no use using fancy talk or playing with words. If you wanted something, you said so, and if you couldn't come out and say it then you sure didn't want it bad enough. He was heavyset but powerful, his belly soft and his arms hard. You could either fear him or love him, and it as obvious most people loved him. The business conversation had gone swimmingly. Kirk had been quite interested in what Mal had to offer, but naturally was concerned about Alliance retaliation.

"You see, Captain Reynolds," Kirk said respectfully, "I'm the biggest man on this pitiful moon I love so much. I own all the corporations in charge of communication, power and transport. That may seem like a monopoly to some, and hell, they'd be right!" He chuckled, and Mal offered a modest snicker. "But I don't think there's anything wrong with that once you get a fair man in the hot seat. Me, I take care of my people. Don't have no need for making more money than God knows what to do with! My wife has everything she'll ever want, got no kids, and even if I did they'd be set for life. I took over all I could so the little people, the people at the bottom of the barrel, get their share in things. How many houses you know that reside in the sleaziest parts of town have effective heat, water and their own intercom systems?"

"None," Mal said, playing the part Bennett wanted.

"Every damn one of mine does!" Bennett said proudly. "I ain't bragging, that's a waste of your time and mine. I'm just saying it ain't a monopoly if you're doing what's best for everyone."

Normally, Mal would look at a man like that and immediately think he was a dictator, telling the people what they wanted instead of listening for it. But Kirk Bennett was different. By the way he acted to his fellow employees, by the way they reacted to him, it was obvious that Kirk was not a fascist. Everyone here seemed so genuinely happy it was hard to imagine this man could be doing something wrong.

"Down to business," Kirk decided, leaning forward onto his tidy desk. It was big, made of a heavy wood, and neat enough to eat off of. "I am quite interested in your merchandise, as you've guessed. But what am I supposed to do with it? I can't install technology that hasn't been released yet! I'll have the Alliance on my hide faster than I can spit!"

"Well now," Mal began, having prepared this speech, "that ain't entirely true. You can install it, just not use it. Take a month and figure out the endless possibilities of it. Guarantee by that time, someone will have leaked it out and it'll be untraceable. You, however, will not only already have it, but you'll know how to use it. A valuable asset in the technological word, wouldn't you say?" In truth, Mal knew little about the inner working of greater technology. But he could fake it like a pro.

"You make a solid point," Kirk admitted. He was eyeing Jayne warily. "You look damn familiar," he said suddenly. "Have I known you before?"

Jayne looked at Mal, who had a strange look on his face. Almost anger mixed with worry. "Don't believe so," Jayne grunted warily.

"Hmm." Bennett studied the merc's face a bit. "It'll drive me crazy all day, you know? Trying to figure out who you are. What's your name?"

Mal cringed. He was starting to worry this deal was going sour real fast. This was the first time Jayne had been with mal on a trade for this moon, since last time he'd been ordered to stay on the ship with everyone else. Possibilities reeled through his mind. What if Jayne had decided to leave against Mal's orders, and had been on a personal job to steal from Kirk? Or worse, what if he'd thieved from him before he'd even gotten on Serenity? If either were the case, they were all in a heap of trouble and this deal would most certainly not go through.

"Cobb," Jayne said simply.

Kirk's face twisted unpleasantly. "Jayne Cobb?" he asked, his words bitter.

An aura of darkness fell over the room. "Yeah."

Mal's eyes darted around the room frantically, searching for the easiest way out of this mess. This was going to hell real damn fast.

Kirk Bennett got up from his desk, the powerful side of his physique making its appearance. "Jayne Cobb," he said again, the words twirling in his mouth. "You were here about two years ago, do you remember?"

Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng, Mal thought angrily. That was exactly the last time they'd been to this here berg. What in the hell had Jayne gotten them into?

"It was two years ago," Bennett continued, "that you had the pleasure of meeting a beautiful young woman with dark hair. Do you remember her?"

Jayne thought as quickly as his mind could carry him. He'd known a lot of dark-haired women, and this place wasn't so remarkable. But there was a girl here, now that he thought about it. Mal had told him to stay on board, he hadn't, met the girl, had a few good hours and that was that. He'd gone back to Serenity before the captain came back and they took off. Maybe this girl was the guy's daughter. Oh, hell, maybe he'd knocked her up. Lying whore said she'd been on contraceptives. At the moment he had to decide- would it insult the man more to say he didn't remember the girl, or that he did?

"Think so," Jayne said unsurely.

"I would hope so!" Kirk Bennett barked. "As that young woman was a victim of rape, and just so happened to be my wife!"

Jayne's mind stopped turning. He just stared at Bennett, wide eyed and dumbfounded. Mal's eyes had grown wide and furious. Zoe, too, could only stare in somewhat horrified disbelief.

"Rape?" Jayne managed to choke out at last. "No, no, weren't like that. She offered. Hell, I paid for it-"

"Are you even implying," Bennett boomed, "that my wife sold herself to you? Are you calling that delicate girl a WHORE?!?!?"

"No!" Mal said immediately. "That ain't what he meant." He glared at Jayne fiercely.

"M-maybe we're talking of two different women," Jayne reasoned, his mind flying for answers. "Couldn'ta been your wife if she weren't… y'know… selling. I don't do married women."

"But you did," Kirk seethed. "She came home that night, and as I lay there with her as a husband I felt another man's seed inside her, and she confessed she had been violated by you. DNA tests confirmed her description of you." His eyes were dangerous and deep. Though normally a cheery sea blue, now they were stormy, dark and clouded. "I've been looking for you for quite some time, Jayne Cobb, and here you fall into my lap." Pushing a red button on his desk, Kirk snarled, "Send in security."

"Is this necessary?" Mal interrupted, taking a step forward. "I'm sure this is a misunderstanding."

As reasonable as Kirk had been before, he was just as unreasonable now. "He's going to the country jail under custody of my men." Kirk's eyes bored into Mal. "I'm sorry, Captain Reynolds, but tomorrow he will stand on trial and if the legal system is just, he will die for his crimes." Striding past the captain, Bennett accompanied his soldiers as they grabbed Jayne's arms and hauled him out of the office.

Zoe and Mal stood side by side, watching as Jayne left. Neither knew what to do.

"We can't fight this," Zoe decided.

"The hell we can't."

"This place is big enough that if he needs it, Bennett can get Alliance support. We're not gonna win this, especially if he's guilty."

"You think he is?" Mal looked at Zoe straight, expecting a real answer.

She knew he wanted to hear the truth, and he's know if she was lying. "I think it's a possibility," Zoe admitted. "Especially if the girl decided to change her mind halfway."

"What has the wang ba dan gotten us into?" Mal asked to no one in particular.