Chapter 16: In which Shepherd Book breaks the law and Kaylee is arrested

"Why don't you like sugar in your coffee anymore?" Comworth asked, giving his godson a hot mug of steaming brew as the two sat and waited.

River was having her brain scanned by the Governor's private doctor in the Governor's state-of-the-art private medical facility attached to the villa. Regan was in there, holding her daughter's hand. Gabriel was standing over the doctor, looking over his shoulder, examining every piece of evidence, even thought he wouldn't recognize an irregularity if he did see it.

So Simon and Comworth sat in the doctor's office, a warm room, with wood paneling and bookshelves lined with back issues of medical journals Simon longed to read, and waited.

"It's just a preference," Simon said.

That was a lie. As soon as his attention had been drawn to the fact he no longer liked sugar in his coffee the back part of his mind had been musing over the fact, trying to dissect the subtle changes in his behavior. As much as he wanted it to be meaningless, he knew intrinsically that it wasn't. Finally, late that night, as he'd wrestled with his sheets and strained his hearing to see if River was screaming his name in her night terrors, the answer had come to him. Sugar was expensive and a luxury. He'd never realized that, growing up, because his life has been a string of luxuries, but on Serenity, you made due with what you had. There was a pound of brown sugar kept in the back of the highest counter in the kitchen and brought out only for special occasions. And then there was some artificial type sweetener made of sucrose and fluoride. But it was unnaturally sweet and made Simon nauseous in even the smallest doses.

After only a few months on Serenity, his life really had changed and as a result he really had changed. It felt like everything about him was different, and his parents had picked up on that too. What was even more frightening was the realization that he didn't want to go back, that he considered every change for the better. He could shoot a gun at a man, he could lie, he could cheat, he could steal, and he had a sort of glowing pride in those facts. Even drinking coffee black had a sort of rugged, manly image associated with that he found he liked. He vaguely felt that these facts, these changes in him, should have concerned him more than it did; they certainly would have concerned his family, if he were ever to tell them.

So Simon lied to his godfather, something he'd never thought he'd be able, or even want to do. "A meaningless preference."

"Of course," Comworth said, accepting the little white lie as if it were truth.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"What did you do for your birthday?" Comworth asked so suddenly the boy winced.

"What?"

"I was just wondering, your birthday, you were . . . with them. What did you do?"

"Nothing, really," Simon said slowly.

"You missed it?"

"No," Simon said. "There was a cake."

"Was it good?"

Simon couldn't help but smile, "Why are you even asking?"

"I worry."

"You worry that I won't have a birthday party?"

"We were all worried, about everything."

Simon hung his head, "I know."

* * *

It was raining in Du Cheng too. Dark and tumultuous clouds imposed themselves on the Governor's villa and the afternoon tour group. There were many people in the group, all talking to each other in hushed voices, pointing, taking pictures. The Shepherd who was taking fastidious notes in his guide book was noted, because a shepherd is always noted, and overlooked, because a shepherd is rarely doing anything worth seeing. The pretty young woman in the denim jumper was noted by all the males in the group. But because the majority of those men were with their wives and or mothers, none approached her and she, with her nearly obsessive picture taking, was more or less ignored. The plan went smooth until the tour was over and the group was being lead into the gift shop where they could buy guide books, models of the house and small tin soldiers fashioned after the governor's guards.

Shepherd Book was examining one such toy, considering buying it and then leaving it in the engine room for Kaylee to find. He wondered if she'd find it an amusing souvenir or a mean prank. He also played with the idea of leaving one in the infirmary for Simon to come across. Book could imagine the look of horror of being reminded of such a traumatic experience on the boy's face. He couldn't imagine that look of horror melting away into an amused smile. River, on the other hand, would probably adore the simple toy. Her mind was delightfully childish in its pleasures and she seemed to revel in irony. At least, that was his impression of her. But before he spent a whole dollar on this little tin man, he thought he'd better get a second opinion. He turned around and scanned the shop for Kaylee.

The girl wasn't there.

He gravitated towards the exit, wandering if she'd left already. But she wasn't there either. He wandered back, towards the entrance, hoping that something in the very front of the shop had caught the young girl's eye. His hopes were dashed when he saw her, looking small and alone, being escorted away by two of the governor's guards.

For a long time the preacher just stared out the door, wondering what he should do. He could run out into the hall and demand why she was being arrested. It wouldn't be too suspicious, one of the benefits of being a preacher was that everyone assumed that men of God had a right to stick their noses in other people's business, or at least, no one had the guts to tell them to 'zou kai'

. But Book knew how government institutions worked. He would be told that she was only wanted for questioning, that she would be fine, that if he was so concerned he could contact a public advocate and submit a writ of explanation to a judge who would review it within the seven days allotted by law and, if the writ was legitimate, the guards would be forced to reveal to him why they had arrested her, where they were keeping her, and how long they planed to have her.

As poor Little Kaylee was hauled back into the depths of the governor's mansion, probably into places they hadn't seen on the tour, Book realized that it would be much better to slip out of the gift shop, unnoticed and unsuspected, and very quickly find Mal. And he did just that, not realizing until he was half way to small bar where they'd planned to meet that he'd never paid for the little tin guard he still had clutched in his hands.

* * *

"Mr. and Mrs. Tam," Dr. Westland, Comworth's personal physician, said as he walked into his office. He had a slow, deep, drawling voice particularly suited to putting patients to their ease. "Who, did you say, diagnosed your daughter?"

"I did," Simon said. He was standing off to the side of the office with his godfather. His parents were now in the seats in front of the doctor's desk, and River was sitting, calmly and contently in her father's lap, her head resting on his shoulder.

Westland looked over to Simon and smiled professionally, "Well, I agree with your diagnose. I've never seen anything like this but the evidence is unquestionable," he turned back to the Tams as he walked across the room and situated himself behind his desk. "Your daughter has indeed had intrusive brain surgery and, among other oddities, her amygdala is indeed missing." The elder doctor turned his attentions back to Simon. "Had you devised a treatment regiment of any kind?"

"Ah," Simon said, pushing himself away from the bookshelves and taking a step closer to the desk. "Nothing overly successful. As you can imagine treatment of this sort of wound is unprecedented, I've had minimal success with anti-psychotics, for some reason a combination of vitamin C and hatzelbyprophaline seems to make a difference as far as the nightmares go, but she seems to require a dosage increase every two weeks or so."

At this point the door to the office opened and a guard poked his head in, "Governor, sir," he said, drawing everyone's attention. "May I speak to you out here, sir?"

"Of course," Comworth told the guard, and then, turning to Westland and the Tams, he said, "Excuse me," and ducked out of the room.

"Humm," Westland said, pulling the attention back to the medical discussion. "Dosage increases every two weeks . . . not a long term solution. Have you considered a Brenzine and Tri-lippite combination? I hear that in cases of general psychoses they've proven very promising."

"I didn't have access to any Brenzine," Simon said. This conversation was the first he'd had since Ariel where he felt like a real doctor, where his medical mind was being challenged on any level. And as his mother and father watched, the criminal-Simon Tam was transformed back to the eager eyed, brilliant young physician they remembered. "But I'd read the same thing. I tried a combination of tri-lippite and Philizine, hoping that, perhaps, the calcium-diclorate was an active agent, but after a week there was no change."

"Am I to understand," Gabriel interjected. "That you've been pumping my daughter full of untested drugs?"

"The drugs were not untested," Simon said. "They all had the official stamp of the Alliance Medical Academy."

"Still," Regan said, reaching out and stroking her daughter's arm, although the girl seemed lost in a world of her own and was not responsive. "Mixing medications haphazardly."

"There was nothing haphazard in your son's application of these medicines," Dr Westland assured them. "I've been practicing since before he was born and, to my knowledge, there is no other way to treat her."

This would have been the perfect time to revel in his utter vindication, but his father didn't give him a chance. "Simon, these drugs, you said they were Alliance Certified."

"Of course," Simon said cautiously. He could sense a trap.

"Where did you get them?"

"We stole them."

Regan gasped, "Simon!"

"Would you rather I used substandard medications?" Simon asked. "Or left River untreated?"

Westland chuckled gravely, "And I thought the medical ethics scenarios we had in medacad were all far fetched."

The door opened again and Comworth reentered, he looked anxious and, although he was addressing the elder Tams kept glancing at Simon. "There's been an interesting development; I was wondering if Simon here could come with me."

"I was hoping to confer with Dr. Tam on a few more matters," Westland said, clearly disappointed.

"I'll bring him back to you, I promise," Comworth said. "But I would like this matter settled as quickly as possible and I could not see my way through it without Simon's aid."

"I suppose I could discuss treatment options with the girl's parents, but, still Dr. Tam's input would be most profitable."

"Those are not his discussions to make," Gabriel wrapping his hand around his daughter's head in a protective, possessive manner. "River is our daughter, we will decide what's best for her."

As if in response to her father's assertion, the hitherto quiet River broke into chuckles and started muttering into her father's chest;

"How different a wily old magician

Whose comic cosmos gives a thrill

From my brother, sane physician:

His words and work I trust, but still

I sense a cruelty, unearned sedition

Against him and his wisely given pill

Regardless of a cavernous division

Twixt what he may fix and what is ill.

No one can see how sick I really am

And even as he tries his very best

With this and that, and another exam

He will perform and ponder every test

For I remain a sacrificial lamb

Till he's found me quiet and I may rest"

"River?" Regan said, reaching out towards her daughter again. "What a lovely poem, where did you learn it, sweetheart?"

"Simon asked me," she said. "Then he asked me not to." She shifted, pushing her head off her father's shoulder so she could look at her brother. "What do you say?"

"What I say doesn't matter, River," Simon said.

"Come now, Simon," Comworth said, touching the boy's shoulder and leading him out of the room. River watched, with mounting concern, as her brother left the room, and she felt cold chills run down her spine as the door was curtly closed.

* * *

"Kaylee," Simon said before he could think. The girl, whose back had been to him, turned around and an almost silly smile of relief spread across her face. She sprang out of the chair she'd been sitting in, one of two facing the Governor's desk in the large, familiar office.

Once she reached him he could tell by her eyes that she longed to throw her arms around him, probably kiss him on the cheek. But he was followed closely by his godfather, and even Kaylee had enough decorum not to display her ferocious affections in front of such an important, dignified old man.

She came up short, standing very close to him, and, looking like she was about to explode, said with a slightly trembling voice, "Simon, I'm so glad ta see ya."

"Can't really say the same," Simon said, examining her with a clinical detachment brought on by shock. If she was here than all his efforts to keep Serenity a secret were for naught. His godfather must have figured out everything. Or, perhaps, he'd figured out nothing. True, she could have been hunted down as a member of Malcolm Reynold's crew, but what if River had been wrong and the guards had grabbed the mechanic when they took River and him?

She was wearing the same pretty denim jumper she'd worn on Sunday, such a very long time ago, which seemed to support his theory, but she had a bright yellow raincoat over it even though the governor's office was quite warm and dry. Her face was painted, making her eyes look bigger, deeper and her lips shimmered.

He didn't know any words to describe how pretty she was.

Her anxious face drove away a host of other practical thoughts. He was so glad to see her well, that he couldn't really worry over how she'd gotten there, nor could he find it in himself to worry much over the implications of her presence. He reached out and very gently took her chin and tilted her head, with his other hand he brushed away her soft hair so that he could examine the large greenish bruise on the side of her head. "They did this to you?"

"Yeah," his touch seemed to relax her, as if it proved he was real and she didn't have to be afraid. "Had a concussion and everything. Threw up all over the Cap'n. He was real sweet 'bout it though."

Simon laughed and dropped her chin, letting his hands slide down the length of her arms until the found her hands. "I am . . . am glad to see you're all right. River told me you'd been hit on the head and . . ."

"They hit you?" Kaylee asked.

"What?" Simon said. "Well, yes, but . . ."

"Ouch," Kaylee said, pulling one of her hands away from his so she could point to the dark cut over his right eye.

"That was actually River," Simon said with a wry smile.

"She ok?" Kaylee asked, taking a step back and looking around. "She around?"

"She is around . . ." Simon said turning his head so he could look in the direction he'd just come, look back towards River. "I'm not sure whether she'll be all right or not."

As the boy's gaze shifted the girl's followed and they both suddenly became aware of the governor standing, watching their interaction with great interest. Simon blushed, slightly embarrassed, and took a step away from the pretty girl, letting her hands fall to her sides. Kaylee gasped and her now free hands flew to her mouth as she took a terrified step back.

"Kaylee," Simon said, quickly putting a comforting, platonic hand on her shoulder. "Don't be afraid. This is my godfather."

"I know just who that is," Kaylee said, looking at the governor with an odd combination of timidity and boldness. Her hands sunk from her mouth and remained together, tightly clasped, primly in front of her.

As if taking a cue from the young girl, Comworth's disposition became very formal, almost grave. "Simon, do you intend to introduce us?"

"Um, of course," the boy said, feeling oddly out of place and fighting the inexplicable and somewhat inappropriate urge to laugh. "Kaylee, this is my godfather, Governor Reginald Comworth. Sir, this is my, well, my friend, Miss Kaylee Frye."

"Would you two please sit?" Comworth said, motioning to the chairs in front of his desk.

Kaylee glanced up at Simon, who used his hand, lingering on her shoulder, to guide her gently towards a chair.

Once seated he couldn't keep from glancing over towards her. She looked so out of place, in her simple denim dress and her bright raincoat. For a second he imagined her in that pink atrocity she'd worn to the ball on Persephone. It was slightly more appropriate or, at least, it was something formal. But that seemed even more ridiculous. As pretty as she'd looked in that, she'd looked silly as well, like a little child, and right now Simon need Kaylee to be a lady.

"Miss Frye," Comworth said, leaning forward genteelly. "Would you like some tea or coffee on this cold and rainy day?"

"Ah," Kaylee said as she glanced to Simon, her eyes begging help. She seemed unsure whether she'd be considered rude if she declined the governor's offer or greedy if she excepted it. Simon tried to look back encouragingly. Turning her attention back to the governor's general direction, although she didn't look directly at him. "No, no thank you."

Comworth looked at the girl and smiled, a gesture which only Simon saw, before turning to his godson, "And anything for you, my boy? Black coffee?"

"I'm fine," Simon said.

"Well, then," the governor said, leaning back in his chair and examining the two youths in front of him critically. His voice had a slightly colder tone in it than Simon had ever heard before, and his eyes were hard and distant. "I think that it is high time all this is clearly explained."

Simon stared at his godfather, stoically and silently; the sudden frigidity in the old man's disposition was frightening him more than he wanted to let show. Kaylee shifted her eyes to her hands, nervously squeezing her left with her right forcefully enough to whiten her knuckles.

"Neither of you are in a position to consider this a request," Comworth warned. "I have many methods of discovering the truth, some of them very uncomfortable for all those involved, but I want to be told it, by my godson."

"Are you threatening us?" Simon asked. He was horrified at the prospect of all of Serenity's secrets being unveiled before an Alliance Official who could only, in good conscious, turn the rouge-ship in. He was terrified at the thought of what some of those methods could be, especially considering that Kaylee would be the victim. But over all he was disgusted, and disappointed, and disillusioned, with his godfather, and those were the emotions that showed on his face.

"I want you to tell me, Simon," Comworth insisted harshly. "Until now I haven't had a card to play, I dearly hoped that I wouldn't need one, that you'd tell me of your own volition. But clearly, whatever bond of loyalty these criminals have inspired in you is stronger than our relationship, one I always thought you treasured.

"I do," Simon insisted.

"Then don't make me –"

Simon let out a bitter laugh, "Make you do what? Use an innocent girl as a trap to catch your own godson?" he stood up and leaned over the desk, letting his anger vent more than was prudent. "Use threats and manipulation and other forms of cruelty to get what you want, regardless of what's right?"

"Simon," Kaylee whimpered fearfully. He felt her tug on his arm but he couldn't look at her because if he did he knew her white face and trembling lips would make him want to comfort her, defuse his anger, and he couldn't afford to let that happen.

"These games have gone on long enough," Simon spat. "You've been pretending to treat me with respect and I believed it, believed you. But all the while you've been looking for your advantage. Finally, you've found her, congratulations. You win. I give up. Do what you've planed to, throw me to the Alliance, River too. We can be sacrifices to your career. It's not much of a change. We've been sacrifices to our parent's ambitions our whole lives. But Kaylee's not part of this; no one from Serenity is. Let her go. Leave them alone!"

"Why are you protecting them so fiercely?" Comworth asked calmly.

"Because they protected me," Simon said, his fire going out a little as he realized he said more than he meant to. "How many times am I going to have to explain this?"

"Apparently, until I understand," Comworth said, surprisingly not enraged by his godson's outburst. His icy demeanor had melted and now he just looked sad and weary.

His godfather's lack of an emotional response was another blow to Simon's state of mind. He took a step back and collapsed into the chair, feeling shaky and uncertain.

There was a turbid silence, so thick that Simon didn't believe Kaylee had broken it until he saw his godfather lean forward and say, "What was that, my dear?"

"I'll explain," Kaylee said again, her voice was trembling and her pale face made her makeup look all the more lovely.

"Kaylee don't . . ." Simon said halfheartedly.

"You don't wanna betray the Cap'n," the mechanic said, turning to Simon silencing him with the conviction in her own eyes. "I ain't gonna, no fears. But the Gov'ner here he . . . well, I've never heard but that he's a fair man. If that's true, then what harm could come of tellin' him what's happened?"

"He's alliance," Simon insisted.

"He's your godfather," Kaylee said. "Have a little faith."

Simon suddenly felt a wave of guilt. Kaylee believed more in his Godfather's love for him than he did. With a sigh or submission, he folded his hands and pressed his lips in them in them, resting his chin on his thumbs. Kaylee took his resignation and formed her own resolve as she shifted her plea to the older man.

To Be Continued . . .