Disclaimer: Heroes is the creation of Tim Kring and NBV Television as is Peter Petrelli and others who appear here or is mentioned. Firefly/Serenity is the creation of Joss Whedon; they do not belong to me. Notes: The story picks up shortly after where "Stubborn Like Shrapnel." left off..

"Ten Little Indians"" by Karen

Upon meeting the Captain Mal Reynolds for the first time Peter Petrelli had not been overly impressed with either the size of the ship or the appearance of the crew; both appeared a bit slipshod and jerry-rigged.

Under the circumstances one could not be too hasty to pass judgment. After all, in his time he'd been through a lot worse, which meant he would just have to make the best of things as he found them.

Peter cast about and wondering if they might have anything resembling alcohol or even something with a bit of flavor to it; hell, at this point he'd take tap water. He'd been a long time dry.

While he'd been pondering this Zoe Warren had been busy telling Captain Reynolds, at length; how she'd discovered him squeezed in to a vacuum- packed tight as a hermetically sealed shipping canister would allow.

"More than likely he's merely some stowaway, Captain," she added. "And should be treated accordingly."

Captain Reynolds nodded thing pondering the cryptic words of the Operative from their most recent encounter and his insistence for once on someone other than River Tam.

"Ease off, Zoe," I hear you loud and clear, but it seems to me we've gotta take this a might more seriously than merely handing this off at the nearest port of call and washing our hands of the matter."

Zoe, despite the obvious agitation and aggressive nature of her stance indicated that she was dancing around the central issue. She did not trust this latest in a long strong of unexpected hitchhikers. "If I might speak freely, Captain?"

Peter wondered if Zoe normally was this formal in her dealings with Captain Reynolds or if she was doing so in the presence of strangers.

Zoe was on edge, and truth to tell, they all were. Trust was a fragile two-edged thing. Mal had jumped to the aid of Peter Petrelli out of the his own instincts to help those in need and also out of a deep grained stubbornness to defy the Alliance at any and all offered opportunities and barring that; he could more than likely manufacture a few opportunities if other business slowed down enough. He was also intensely curious about Petrelli himself. He shook his head to clear it of the inevitable cobwebs and altered his stance on the table in the living area. Realizing with a start that nearly threatened to upset his precarious balance, his curiosity had again beaten out his suspicion. And to be honest, Mal did not much blame her. Petrelli could very well have been an Alliance spy

With that he pulled himself away from the wall and made eye contact with Zoe. "We keep him around for a while. Look I heard every word, duly recorded every doubt you harbor about our 'newest guest," he shrugged and then added. "Humor me, will you?"

Zoe sniffed and squaring her shoulders she turned around and leveled a dark-eyed glare in Peter's direction. "I don't have to like this, but hear me, you do anything, say anything to hurt anyone on this ship, and I will punch out your lights! Got it?"

Peter, for his part, was just beginning to warm up to this woman because she had a direct no-nonsense, feisty nature. With the exception of the part about punching out his lights; she at least made her intentions perfectly clear.

After everything that he'd been through, and it was anyone's gues exactly how many days or hours it had been. He was absolutely certain of one thing: he would rather remain conscious and aware of what going around him for the duration. "Got it."

Somewhat mollified Zoe turned on her heels and begun to walk toward the exit that lead another part of the ship. "Good. See that you remember that."

Mal offered Peter a tight off-center grin. "A piece of advice, Petrelli; most definitely unlooked for and unasked for, but if I were you. I'd stay out of her way for a spell."

"Understood," returned Peter with a shaky grin of his own in return. "Say, do you have anything to drink around here. I've been a long time dry."

Mal smiled and stomped over to a sideboard cupboard and yanked open its doors. "There's some whiskey and gin in here. But if you've no mind or stomach for strong drink, the cold stuff farther back. Help yourself."

"Thanks," said Peter and crossed over to do as suggested.

Elsewhere

She straddled the support beams of the cargo hold like a child at its first rock concert hanging out over the balcony seating; wide-eyed with excitement and wonder and her hair streaming out in the updrafts of air.

Forcing Peter to wonder if River is even aware of the distance that separated her from a long plunge to the deck beneath her precarious perch.

In her mind she was back in the classroom, although as a much younger self, all around her it was as if she stood in the foreground of a life-size painting, the background done in shell white, the remainder done in leaf-green.

She sat at her desk with her hand raised in the air to either ward off a blow or anxious to be the one to answer the question posed by the instructor.

River's thoughts are murky however the intensity of her stare is hypnotic and she can sense that this newest addition to the crew might very well be a source of potential trouble.

She glanced around the cargo hold in search of her brother's reassuring presence, his warmth, wanting him to make everything better and warmer but her brother is occupied elsewhere.

She's small but wiry, undoubtedly crazy and those big watery brown eyes when focused with full intensity have a creepy way of staring right through you. It's eerie and irritating at the same time. River is only partially aware of Peter's intent scrutiny. She is not certain what to make of him. It's not something she can put into words; well words that others like Mal, and her brother, and the others aboard would understand; She can usually read people, most , most people she can read, one way or other.

Sometimes her 'reads' on people are accompanied by scents, sounds, or sensations that indicate their mental states, or betray their intentions for good or ill; even a little of the history that accompanies them. With Peter, it's different.

Different, but in a good way. When he's around it's as if his mere presence allows the 'white noise in her head a much needed dampening field.

"Hey," greeted Peter in an off-hand tone. He recalls seeing this short petite dark haired girl when he first crashed on board but since then he could not recall seeing her around. He had thought be another passenger or something like, but when she suddenly met his gaze and stared at him with the intensity of a hawk target its prey; he realized that he had been mistaken on both counts. Peter felt, without knowing exactly how he knew, that she was so much more than that.

"Hey," replied River. "You want to know something? This is the lull before the storm. The eye of calm before it breaks."

"If you're trying to tell me that it will get worse before it gets better…" Peter shrugged, "I figured out as much on my own.

River offered him a tight-lipped grimace that passed for a smile. "You're different. Not like the others. I like you."

"Well, well," stammered Peter at a momentary loss for words before he managed. "Thanks for the warning."

"I could get used to having you around."

***

Jayne Cobb's boots clomp across the deck of the cargo bay as he crosses over to where shipping crates and various supply containers are stacked on pallets waiting to be unloaded. He does not mind the task all that much because it needs doing and it keeps his mind occupied; mostly from worrying over this latest snafu Mal's managed to get them mixed up in. In the distance he can't help but overhear the conversation taking place between River Tam and Peter Petrelli.

He must admit that he is a bit curious about what they might find in common to talk about, the Operative's demand that Petrelli be turned over to him personally notwithstanding. He supports Mal's decision to offer the guy safe haven on the ship for as long its feasibly possible, but all the same, sooner or later something is liable to come back and bite them on their collective kisters. When it did, Jayne Cobb wanted to prepared for it; or much as he could be.

Far above

A random phrase floats up from the murkiness that is her mind, something Simon would say, and something she believes that her newfound companions would appreciate. "You can't out run Death, but you can make the Bastard work for it." She does not realize that she has said this out loud. Jayne, overhearing the remark, drops the handles of the supply crate, looks up with those big, scarred hands planted on his hips. "You can say that again, girlie."A look River interprets as grudging regard in his dark moves away from the edge of the railing, walks towards the steps that lead down to the floor below and he waits for her to approach she does she barely comes up to his shoulder, but those eyes are hard to it is not the kind of turn on he usually gets in the presence of a pretty woman, it's creepy. "Keep on walking, preacher man." River says, "Ain't nothing to see here.""Just what the hell where you trying to prove up there, heh?" Jayne asks, exasperated by her odd behavior, "That you're not afraid of heights or something?"

"Or something, I like it up there, it's quiet." And besides even if I did fall you were here to catch me," she replied.

"You do realize that if that happened, we'd both get yelled at by the Captain," he remarked."Then you'd best make sure that doesn't happen," said River matter -of-fact and reasonable tone of voice than he had been accustomed to hearing her use before."Hell, what was that about outrunning Death?" he asked."I don't know why that came to me, all of a sudden" River shook her head and tangled, matted hair tumbled down around her pixie-like face and covered her eyes.

At that instant her eyes briefly lose their intent focus: "I was just thinking about the ship, and how that was the one spot of relative quiet among all that activity that must go one aboard. I was thinking how I don't really belong anywhere; and I just blurted it out."

Jayne grinned and then added: "I like it." Might make it the new crew motto." "Really?" River eyes go intent and bright again."Go see your brother," Jayne gripes, throwing up his hands in mock-disgust, "Maybe he'llhave better luck dealing with you."

River shrugged and uncoiled from her prone position on the railing and began to walk around to the entry to the level leading up to the living quarters.

After she had disappeared from view Peter asked the question he had been wrestling with since his first meeting with Captain Reynolds. "Tell me something, Cobb."

"Jayne, it's just Jayne," the big man hoarsely interrupted. "Yeah, what do you want?"

"Is it just me, or is everyone on this tub a might stir crazy?"

"More like a lot stir crazy, but then you've been here what, like seventy two hours now,. So is that really such a big surprise?"

"That wasn't what I wanted to ask, but it does lead into it," said Peter quietly. "What I wanted to know if I when, what did Reynolds call him? Wait, I've got it. The Operative showed up, would I have been better off going with him?"

"Nah, but I'm not really up on current Alliance politics. The Operative is their field agent, and I've heard tell that he's got enough clout, and connections to take certain liberties in the performance of his duties, if you catch my drift?"

Peter swallowed and nodded. "I get it. I think. What I don't get is why he would have known about me in the first place."

Jayne shrugged. "Hey, you don't have to tell me anything, but I suspect that Mal will want answers sooner rather than later."

****

Continued in Chapter 3: "All Your Tomorrows"