Mari scanned the docking station of Blue Heaven, eyes searching for the Genrou. She easily spotted the audaciously painted Star, and caught a glimpse of the tail-end of the Bebop, but no pockmarked hull with flaking rust. Mal's hand on her shoulder cut through her thoughts.

"He ain't here, Cap'n. We couldn't make it that easy for them, could we?" He grinned, looping her under his arm. "C'mon, we got a bar to get to."

The firefly contingent ushered the Genrou's crew into the outlaw satellite proper, curious stares dancing over them, whispers and glares flitting over the women at the center of the little group. Mari's heart sank – she might be free, but she wasn't clear of her bounty. The looks would keep coming. Her blue hair, her tattoos, the piercings. They marked her as the woman that took out a fleet of Red Dragon's best men. The challenges, the fights, the attempts on her life would fly fast now; she was finally an outlaw, and a marked one at that. She tensed under Mal's arm, the realization entirely unwelcome for the private woman.

"Jayne, Zoe." Mal pulled her closer, nodding to his first mate. Zoe's gun was in her hand in an instant, swinging casually at her side as Jayne swung Vera 'round to his front, fingers stroking the trigger idly. The tension on the promenade quivered within a hair's breadth of snapping, hands shifting to steel, eyes narrowing for a fight.

"Wuh duh ma huh tah duh fong kwong duh wai shung! – You kids are not popular." Wash ran a hand over his forehead as the group ducked into a dark bar in a far corner of the station. Heading toward the back, Mal nodded to the bartender, sweeping open the doors to a private room. The crews of the Star and the Bebop were kicked back at the table, eyes collectively turning toward the door as the group entered the room. Spike raised his glass to Mari in a mocking toast, winking as they approached the table.

"Back among the living, I see."

"I could say the same for you, Spiegel." Mari settled into the seat next to the reclining man, body finally relaxing in the relative safety of the room. Glasses were passed around, folks filling them with the warm, rich liquor that Jet had so kindly sprung for. When everyone's glass was full, Mari cleared her throat, drawing the attention of her friends as she raised a glass.

"Thank you. Thank you all so very much. There are no words for how grateful my crew and I are for what you've done. No words for the selfless kindnesses, for the courage, for the unquestioning loyalty." She paused, eyes tracing the faces gathered, landing on those of Su and Kouji at her side. "We're forever indebted. There's not much we can offer, but... you'll always be welcome at our dinner table. We'll always be there to help out on a mission... or a heist. And I can promise there will always be room for you on our ship."

"Wan shou wu jiang!" the crowd returned, glasses clinking merrily as laughter and congratulations rang through the room. Aspects of the battle were pieced together for Mari, Su taking a smug bow for her fine con, much back-slapping given for reenactments of the finer points.

Mari was savouring her drink, watching the mingling crowd when Gene dropped heavily into the seat beside her. "Sick of Su trying to show you the fancy dance steps I taught her?"

"What can I say? You can't teach a street rat new tricks. Those boots were crushing my feet." the boy grinned at Mari. "Say, Cap'n. You wanna see your ship?"


The ship in Swanzo's dock bore only the most cursory resemblance to the Genrou - the core lines of the body shone through, but this model was a polished antique, not the rust bucket the woman had been piloting for years. But even if he was dressed up with a new paint job, suited in bigger sub ethers and accessorized with a pair of grappling arms, Mari would recognize her ship anywhere.

"That's my boy." came the murmur as she ran a hand over the glossy blue of the hull, fingers caressing the ship's side as she keyed in the pass code with the other. The authorities had stripped the inside bare; the well-loved furniture, the piles of literature, Su's rescued vinyl collection, her well-planned hydro system... it was all gone, sold or trashed, the Alliance feasting on their loss.

So it went.

She walked from room to room, mind wandering as she surveyed the bare walls, the polished floors. Swanzo had put the ship through a complete overhaul, asking a pittance for the work he normally asked an arm and a leg for.

"We're all running from something here." His hands making vague gestures in the air. "Ladies like you, you can't stay in one place. Your friends make a good case for you. Everyone deserves a fresh start."

The sound of boots clattering into the ship stirred her from her reverie. "In here!" Kouji and Su's heads rounded the corner moments later, faces hang-dog at the sight of the empty living room.

"Looks like they took the lot of it, jie jie." Su murmured, face sad. "At least Swanzo made the old boy spiffy."

Mari threw an arm over the girl, face dancing with a small smile.

"Hey, we got three bunks, a set of sub-ethers and landing gear. What more have we ever needed?" Looping Kouji under her other arm, she let her smile broaden, lighting up her face. "I think it's perfect."

"Perfect for what, mei mei?"

"Our fresh start."

The three outlaws stood in the empty room, eyes tracing their new surroundings, hearts letting their pasts fall to the wayside. A second chance. A new start. They would strap into the cockpit, eyes on the sky as they soared through the atmo and out into the 'verse, sweet cries of joy on their lips and triumph in their hearts.

They were free.


Notes from Su: Just an epilogue left. I'm in the midst of rolling around on the ground, sobbing.
Music: This is Why We Fight – The Decemberists; The Adventure – Angels and Airwaves