"Hey Simon," Kaylee said, smiling as she saw the doctor enter the kitchen. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and he had a generally weary look in his eyes that always made her heart go all mushy.
"Hey," he said, smiling weakly at the assembled crew, Zoë, Wash, Jayne and Kaylee, who were sitting cozily in the arm chairs around the small circular table at the edge of the kitchen. "Is this hot?" he asked, motioning to the kettle.
"Should be just 'nuff for one more cup," Zoë said.
"Thanks," Simon said, politely, as he pulled a mug out of its cubby.
"How's that girl?" Kaylee asked, leaning forward so she could keep her eyes on him as he pulled a packet of powdered tea out of the drawer.
"Evangeline?" Simon asked, glancing up from his packaged tea. "She's, ah, I don't know."
"You been workin' on her since take off," Jayne sneered. "Ain't you even figured out what's wrong with her yet?"
"No," Simon said softly, poring the powder into his hot water and stirring the mixture for a moment before turning and refilling the kettle.
"Is she sick?" Wash asked. "Or hurt, or . . ."
"I don't know," Simon asserted, walking over and sitting down an empty chair next Kaylee. "She seems weak, and, ah, doped, but beyond that . . ."
"You just spent four hours examinin' a little girl an' you can't even figure what's wrong with her?" Jayne laughed, clearly enjoying Simon's failure.
"There are any number of diseases she could have," Simon said a little defensively. "Some types of cancer, some blood diseases, an infection of the nervous system. If I had a medical history I'd have a treatment plan developed by now, but I couldn't even get Mrs. Kubat to talk to me. And the man who joined them, whoever he is, just referred me back to her."
"Wait," Zoë said, holding her hand up. "You don't know who he is?"
"No," Simon said, "Why, who is he?"
"That man is Mr. Kubat."
"Mister . . .?" Simon muttered, "Her brother?"
"Try her husband," Wash said with a dry laugh.
"But I thought her husband was a Prefect, didn't Mal tell us . . ."
"Her husband is a Prefect," Zoë said. "Seen his papers and everything. He's being transferred to New Dallas and decided that we were the perfect ship to give him an' his a ride."
"A Prefect?" Simon asked again. "An Alliance Prefect, on Serenity?"
"Damn hilarious ain't it?" Jayne asked. "I mean, if you ain't bein' hunted down by the Alliance Brass like some sort a dirty dog what killed a chicken." He laughed wickedly in Simon's general direction.
"Stop it," Kaylee scolded, placing her hand on the doctor's shoulder and patting it kindly. "They've seen you an' they trust you," she assured the young man. "Ain't no reason to be afraid."
"Kaylee's right," Zoë said. "If they intended to turn you in they'da done it before we left port."
Simon took a deep drink of his tea and tried to believe was he'd just been told.
"This job just doesn't make sense," Wash mumbled. He was playing with the salt shaker, unscrewing and rescrewing its lid. "If we ignore the fact that the overly starched Mrs. Kubat chose Serenity, why the hell would her husband come with?"
"And why would they bring the kids?" Zoë added. "This ain't exactly a family friendly ship."
"Hold up," Jayne said, glancing maliciously at Simon. "That oldest boy, he looked ta be about River's age. Hey Little Kaylee, feel up to some match makin?"
"No," Simon said. "We're not even talking about her."
"I da, know," Jayne mused. "I think it'd be fun."
"Shut up, Jayne," Zoë ordered. "Doc's right. Cap'in ordered us not to talk 'bout her."
"Hope she's alright," Kaylee said, glancing out the door, as if the interior of Inara's shuttle was just through it.
"She's fine, she's just fine," Simon said, more to convince himself than Kaylee.
"Bu bi fan," Zoë said firmly. "Soon as things here get settled and . . ."
She was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a group of boys bounding up a mettle staircase. Seconds later the four blond haired, blue eyed, porcelain skinned Kubat boys burst into the kitchen. Obviously, their mother had no idea what they were doing. They were talking to each other in the excited voices of children who are disobeying, not really quiet, but obviously endeavoring not to be loud. Their suit jackets had been disregarded, with the exception of the second smallest boy' who's jacket was tied around his waist. Their ties were undone, and retied on various parts of their body, across the forehead, over the right bicep, around the thigh, and the youngest had it simply slung over his shoulder. As son as the boys realized that their exploring had lead them to an occupied room they stopped. Innocent, naive, childish terror filled their eyes. Serenity's crew couldn't help but think it was amusing.
"Well hello," Zoë said, trying not to laugh too hard at the boys. Her husband's snickers were conspicuous, but then, Kaylee's giggles accompanied them. Simon was smiling, almost fondly, and Jayne looked like he would laugh as soon as he figured out what exactly in this situation struck him as funny.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the oldest boy said, ushering his brother's behind him. "We didn't know anyone was up here."
"That's fine," Zoë said, "Come on up. There's plenary a room."
The second youngest boy peeked around his brother's shoulder. "Is this where you have the food?"
"Yes it is," Zoë said. "You're welcome to any of it you'd like."
The two middle boys smiled at each other with a knowing look and scampered over to the cabinets to see what they could find.
"Maybe I should make sure they don't make a mess," Wash said, pushing himself out of his chair.
"Fine," Zoë said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it before he could scoot away. "Just remember to act your age."
"Hey," the youngest boy said, taking a step away form his older brother closer to the table. "Our mama always says that."
"Really?" Wash said, smiling down at the boy. "So does my wife."
"You are married?" The oldest boy said, glancing from Zoë to Wash and back to Zoë again as he approached Serenity's crew with a caution his brother's lacked. The boy looked to be about fifteen, with shrewd eyes and a generally commanding stance.
"That we are," Zoë said. "I'm Zoë, ships first mate, and that there's Wash, my husband."
"So, you are in charge, after Captain Reynolds, I mean," the boy asked.
"Yes, I am," Zoë said, smiling up at the boy. "Wanna sit down? There a space open," She said, nodding towards Wash's recently vacated chair.
"Hey, hey," Wash said, turning, "You givin' my seat away?"
"Just seein' that there's someone here ta keep it warm fer ya," Zoë said playfully.
"I don't want to sit down," the boy told Zoë. "Does your husband have a job?"
"Yeah," Wash called over his shoulder, "I keep her from becoming a grumpy old maid."
"Lao gong," Zoë laughed, "I could never be an old maid."
"Yeah, but you sure can be grumpy," Wash retorted.
Serenity's crew laughed good naturedly at the marital banter, the oldest Kubat boy continued to stand stoically and just observe.
"He's the ships pilot," Kaylee explained, since the boys clearly weren't getting the joke. "Best in the sky."
"We're in deep space," the boy said seriously. "Not in the sky."
"Well when you're in space every where's sky," Kaylee said simply.
"Who is she," he asked Zoë.
"I'm Kaylee," the young woman said, before Zoë could answer for her.
"What do you do?" the boy asked causally.
"I'm the mechanic."
"Kaylee makes sure Serenity's runs smooth," Zoë said, patting Kaylee supportively on the back. "She's a real hoa shou."
"And you're the doctor?" The boy said, moving on. "Doctor Tambarino."
Zoë and Jayne started laughing; Kaylee tried her best to cap her giggles for Simon's sake.
"You should just call me Simon, I think . . ." the doctor said. Even he was trying not to laugh at Wash's mangling of his name. " . . .I think it would be easier."
"Doctor Simon," the boy said officially.
"Just Simon," the doctor insisted. "Titles aren't really . . ."
"Doctor," the boy insisted forcefully. "We'll just call you doctor. It's respectful."
"It is at that," Simon said softly.
"An' you can call me Mr. Cobb," Jayne said, loudly pulling the attention away from Simon.
"What do you do, Mr. Cobb?" the boy asked.
"Pretty much what I like," Jayne said.
"How 'bout you, boy?" Zoë asked. "Think you could introduce yerself 'n your brothers?"
"My mama doesn't want us conversing with the crew."
"Seems a might late fer that," Zoë observed.
"No, no, no," Wash said from around the corner. "You don't eat that blue paste on red crackers, you want the green ones, here, I'll show you."
"Come on," Kaylee pleaded. "We're real nice."
"Mama said . . ." the boy hesitated.
"Who care's what ol' Mama said?" Jayne demanded.
"We should respect his mother's wishes," Simon said cautiously.
"I'm Felix!" the youngest boy said, "And I'm seven!"
"Well hello Felix," Kaylee said, smiling beautifully at the boy.
"Felix," The oldest boy scolded, obviously embarrassed.
"This here's Robert, an' he's fifteen."
"Pleased to meet you, Robert," Zoë said, nodding at the boy formally.
"That's Albert, he's ten, and Thomas is twelve."
"You're real friendly Felix," Kaylee said. "Wanna have a tour a the ship."
"Mama wouldn't," Robert started.
"Mama wouldn't want you up here, an' still, here ya are," Zoë said, "Why don't you go on the tour. There ain't much ta see on Serenity, but what's worth a gander Kaylee'll show ya."
"Felix, no." Robert said firmly.
"Hey, Robby," Jayne said. "Ya ever see a gun?"
"A . . . a gun?"
"Yeah," Jayne said, standing up, showing how very impressively muscular he was. "A real gun, not one a them pussy hand arms they give Alliance patrols, or even them semi-automatic jokes they seem ta think is so impressive. A gun with kick."
"No," Robert said, obviously interested.
"Well, hows 'bout this," Jayne said. "You stop bein' such a pain in the ass and let yer brother's do as they like an' then, then maybe when I show you these guns, I'll be less inclined ta shoot you in your little retentive anus."
"Jayne," Zoë scolded with comfortable familiarity. "Don't threaten to kill the passengers."
"Can I threaten to kill Doctor Tambarino?" Jayne asked, trying and failing to suppress a bout of hysteric laughter.
"So long as you only threaten," Simon said, glaring back at Jayne.
"Would you really show me your guns?" Robert asked, taking an intrepid step towards Jayne.
"You really wanna see 'em?" Jayne asked, a little taken a back by the boy's interest.
Robert nodded, "These are real guns, I mean, you've shot them."
"Yeah," Jane grunted. "Used real bullets an' everything."
"Could I, maybe, shoot one?" Robert asked boldly.
"Da dai," Zoë muttered.
"Not a big one," Robert explained. "But, you know, I'd, ah, I'd like to shoot a gun."
"Well now," Jayne said, a smile spreading across his face. "Why don't you follow me and we'll see what we kin do."
"Yes sir, Mr. Cobb," the boy said, obviously grateful and excited.
"Now that's some words I could get used to," Jayne said. "Come on, boy."
Jayne started walking out of the kitchen, with the eager Robert on his heels.
"Ah, wait," Simon said before the pair had made it past the long table. Jayne turned and glared at the doctor; Simon didn't back down. "Robert, I need to ask you a question, if you don't mind."
"Go ahead, Doctor," Robert said, totally unaware of the hateful look Jayne was shooting at the young doctor.
"What's wrong with your sister?"
"Evangeline is sick," Robert said simply, before turning to follow Jayne again.
"I know that," Simon said, falling in step behind Jayne and Robert. "But I need to know what kind of sickness."
"She's always been sick, Doctor, ever since she was born."
"Always," Simon said, stopping for a second to consider the new information. He had to jog two or three paces to catch up before he could ask his next question. "How has she been sick?"
"Just sick, Doctor," Robert shrugged. "That's all I know."
"That's all the boy knows, Doc," Jayne growled behind his back. "Stop pesterin' the kid."
"Did you ever hear the name of the disease, or maybe, what types of specialist were brought in?"
"I don't know."
"Pulmonalogist, cardiologist, oncologist, neurologist, does any of that sound familiar?"
"I don't know," Robert instead.
"He don't know," Jayne said emphatically. "Now, lest ya want ta be our target, go away."
"Sorry," Simon said, stopping in the middle of the hallway, letting Jayne and Robert outdistance him on their way to the armory, otherwise known as Jayne's room.
"Don' worry son," Mal said, stepping out of a connecting hallway right behind Simon.
The boy's heart jumped in his throat as he turned to find the Captain standing, staring at the retreating Jayne and Robert. "Sir?"
"Jayne knows better than to use you as target practice."
Simon smiled briefly, "I know."
"Worried over that little girl, are you?" Mal said, turning back towards the kitchen and nodding that Simon should follow.
"She seems to be very ill," Simon said. "And I can't figure out why."
"You mean you ain't been told?"
Simon shook his head, "No. It's like it's a secret."
"Yeah, this family's got all sorts a secrets," Mal sighed.
"What do you mean?"
Mal pursed his lips and shook his head, "I'da know. But there are thing ought ta been told that weren't."
"Like the fact that we have a Prefect on board."
"Yeah, fact like that," Mal nodded as they entered the kitchen.
"Hey Cap'in, Hey Simon" Kaylee said in warm way that was almost enough to melt away the men's foreboding. "I'm takin' Li'll Felix here on a tour a Serenity, either a you gents wanna come?"
"Sorry, Little Kaylee," Mal said. "But you ain't doin' that, not just yet."
Kaylee's smile slipped a little, "Wadda ya mean?"
"Little Felix's Ma is complainin' about the engine noise."
"Engine noise?" Kaylee asked, flabbergasted.
"Does the engine make noise?" Simon asked. "I mean, when it's running properly it's more or less silent, isn't it?"
"She's as quiet as any engine could be," Kaylee said, obviously offended by the inference that Serenity wasn't in perfect condition.
"I believe ya," Mal said quickly. "Just thought I'd give you some warning, that's all."
"Warnin'? Why, Mrs. Kubat sure ain't gonna be talkin' ta me," Kaylee said keeping what was left of her smile tenaciously.
Mal starred down at her, seriously and apologetically.
Kaylee's smile slipped a little more, "Is she?"
"She wants ta cook fer that girl a her's," Mal said with a sigh, "An' some one's gotta show her round the kitchen."
"Kitchen ain't hardly . . ."
"An' she wants someone else ta cook fer the rest a the family."
"What?" Kaylee said, her smile gone. "I'm the cook now?"
"Just fer a bit," Mal assured her, speaking softly so the Kubat boys couldn't hear. "We kin go without your gourmet meals for a spell, but I don't wanna make waves with these folk, and neither do you, I think."
"Yes sir," Kaylee grumbled, then, turning to Felix, she managed to find her smile, which was a bright as if she'd never lost it. "I'll show you round Serenity another time, kay, Felix? Right now ya think you could introduce me ta your Mama?"
The little boy nodded enthusiastically and grabbed Kaylee's hand with both of his. "Come on," he said adventurously. "I know the way."
"Well why don' ya just show me?" Kaylee asked, laughing as she was dragged out of kitchen.
* * *
Inara sat in River's room and tried to meditate. She wasn't having great success. The cliché 'Silence is golden' seemed to her, at this point, to be an amazingly insightful nugget of truth. She was used to the deep velvety quiet of her shuttle, hours of nothing but the hum of the life support. She was not used to a young boy playing Alliance vs. Independents as loudly as he could mere yards away from her seemingly paper thin walls.
The most important skill a companion has is the ability to go within herself and find a deeper quiescence, a calm, a joy. That is what she gives to all the people who see her, whether they realize it or not, her inner peace, her total self-assurance and possession. And sense this all came from within her, she had it in abundant supply. As long as she had ample time to meditate.
The room was too small to burn incense in, so Inara was forced to resort to a small votive candle. There wasn't a table for her to sit at, so she had to practice her calligraphy sitting on the floor. There weren't even pillows and if Mal considered the matted floor covering a rug that space-pirate needed a lesson in interior decorating. Of course, she mused, she'd known that ever since she'd first seen the godawful wall hanging in the common area. But she didn't want to think about that, she wanted to focus on her calligraphy. Straight line, straight line, curved line, thick line fading into thin, an arch, a perpendicular line. A high pitched scream as a boy viciously attacked his imaginary foes.
Inara suddenly felt the need to scream herself.
The companion took a deep breath and remained herself that this was a little boy, that he didn't know any better and that he didn't have anywhere else to play.
The incessant wailing of the child calling for his mother after he'd tumbled off the couch and hit his head made Inara realize that she didn't really care. When she had joined the crew of Serenity she had been promised her privacy, she had been promised a space where she could sit and meditate and not be interrupted, she had been promised the illusion, at least, of calm. And while she did not mind giving up the comforts of her shuttle so that River could be safe, she was not about to give up her internal peace.
She leaned forward and blew out the candle. While the wax dried enough for her to carry it, she collected and packed her paper and her ink and as she was rinsing the ink out of her brush there was a knock at her door "Jin."
The thin, translucent, panel that served as a door slid aside and the Prefect Kubat was standing in her doorway, looking at her. He was about fifty, with a husky build and pale skin and a very well trimmed white beard. His eyes were the same striking blue color as his children, although they were obviously the eyes of a very worldly man who'd lost his innocence and joy a long time ago. "Madame Inara?"
"Can I help you with something?" Inara asked, smiling beautifully.
"I was . . . I wondered if you would be so kind as to accompany me at dinner tonight."
"I was under the impression that your family wanted to eat as a unit."
"My wife manages the children," he said dismissively. "I would like to eat with you."
"I see," the Companion said, with perfect composure. "I'm afraid I take my meals alone."
"Ms. Inara, you have been invited . . ."
"A companion must live a very regimented and solitary life," Inara said sweetly. "I'm afraid that, under no circumstances can I accept your invitation."
"Do you understand who I am?" Kubat demanded, anger sulking behind his eyes.
"A passenger on Captain Malcolm Reynolds ship," Inara said simply. "And as such, I can not service you in any way."
"How dare you?" he seemed dangerously near outrage at this point. "This was a polite invitation."
"In any way," Inara said softly but firmly. Her fixed smile didn't falter. "Now, if you please, I need to find a spot slightly more restful. You're son is playing a charming game, but I find I require quiet for my meditations."
"Of course," the man said stiffly, stepping out of the doorway and clearing a way for Inara, who glided past him with pure grace. She felt his large deep blue eyes watching her as she walked away and his gaze made her skin crawl.
* * *
"Wash."
"Ah, yes Captin?"
"This is what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna turn around and walk down these stairs. Then, when I get ta the bottom, I'm gonna take a deep breath, turn right around, and walk back up them. And when I get up to the top a these stairs and look around the cockpit, you know what I ain't gonna see?"
"What would that be Captain?"
"I ain't gonna see no eight-year-old flyin' my ship."
"Not really a problem Captain," Wash said. "Albert here is ten, Thomas is twelve, no eight-year-olds up here, sir."
"This ain't funny," Mal said, pulling himself fully into the cockpit. "And no matter how you dress her up," he said, picking up one of the many plastic dinosaurs in the room "Serenity ain't no toy fer kids ta be playin' with."
Albert and Thomas, who were sitting in the pilot and co-pilots seats respectively, were on either side of the argument, looking in on it very sheepishly. "I'm sorry," Thomas said. "We didn't mean to get you in trouble Mr. Wash."
"Their not flying anything, Mal," Wash said, very softly so the boys couldn't here. "The course is locked in and I disengaged the manual controls. The boy's are just pretending."
"Well," Mal said, clearing his throat, feeling like an unqualified ass. He desperately tried to save the situation, "You say these here boy's are flyin' straight?"
"As a bird flies," Wash replied.
"So a might better than you?"
Wash laughed, "Flyin' straight ain't the challenge."
"Fer most, maybe, but you, Wash, are special."
"That's why you hired me."
Mal took a deep breath and smiled at the boys, "Well, can't argue with that."
The boys smiled back.
"So we aren't in trouble, Captain?" Thomas asked.
"Naw, you ain't in trouble. Just watch out for them moons, tend to pop up on ya."
"Yes sir, Captain," Thomas said, excitedly.
"Yes sir, Captain," Albert echoed.
"Well, then, carry on," Mal said, smiling at the boys before turning and heading out the other door towards his bunk.
"Mal," Wash called after his Captain, "You need anything?"
"Yeah," Mal sighed, turning and speaking to his pilot in a low voice. "I need a room without a gorramn Kubat in it."
"Sorry, Cap, can't help ya there."
"So I see," Mal muttered.
"I'd guess that your room would be pretty safe."
"That was my very notion," Mal said. "If anyone needs me, you know where I am."
"Yes sir, Captain," Wash said imitating the tone of the two boys perfectly and comically.
Mal rolled his eyes, turned, and retreated quickly to his cabin, hoping to find a little solitude. He found something else.
"Come up a little short on this months rent?" Mal asked with a swagger in his voice.
"I needed an escape from the Kubats," Inara said coolly. "I thought hiding here would be poetic justice."
"Poetic because I've got such a romantic soul?" Mal asked, walking over to the bed and lounging on it. Inara, consumed in her calligraphy, ignored him.
"Poetic because you always barge in my shuttle," Inara quipped.
"You got a room."
"I have a cubical with paper thin walls," Inara said, glancing at Mal for the first time. It wasn't a friendly glance. "I need quiet and, while the hellions are on board, this is the quietest place on Serenity."
"What about Kaylee's room."
"Kaylee doesn't barge into my shuttle," Inara said. "I need a place to collect myself, work on my calligraphy and poetry. And like I said, being in here is poetic."
"Right," Mal said, leaning forward and pushing himself off his bed. "'Spose that's fair, you had no kinda choice when I asked ya ta give up your shuttle for River."
"You did ask Mal," Inara reminded him. "I could have said no."
"But we all knew you wouldn't," Mal said, not unkindly. "So, during the day, you can just make yourself at home."
"Thank you," Inara said, smiling up at Mal, who was now more or less directly over her.
"There is just one thing," Mal said.
"And what would that be?"
"Ya gotta leave at night."
"I don't see that being a problem," Inara laughed.
"Just so long as were clear."
"Oh, Captain, you're always perfectly clear to me."
To be continued . . .
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