Disclaimer: The Firefly 'verse is the property of Joss Whedon and the good people at Mutant Enemy, and 20th Century Fox. Thanks, folks. Keep flying.

Cat and Mouse

By Bookworm

Chapter 1: Unwelcome Passengers

Simon was feeling apprehensive as he limped into the mess: Wash was in charge of cooking this morning. One whiff and he felt sure his concern was well founded.

"You're all in for quite a treat!" Wash assured them all, clapping his hands together. "Dig into the mashed protein with onion powder and canned tomatoes while I open a few cans of--hey, what's this?" He was staring into an open drawer at a mass of shredded cloth.

Jayne stood up, walked over, and poked at the shreds. Zoe came and looked around his shoulder. "Oh, this is unpleasant," she remarked coolly. "We've got a rodent problem!"

Jayne backed up hastily. "Rats?"

She pushed the shreds around in the drawer a moment, searching. "Well, from the size of the droppings, I'd say a mouse. Probably nesting."

"Mice? Here in the kitchen?" Wash asked. He looked left and right and shifted his feet uneasily.

"Droppings?" Simon asked around a mouthful of food. He swallowed sickly and dropped his fork. Inara laid her fork down, too, quickly followed by Kaylee. Book looked up from his silent grace with mild interest.

River laughed. "Beady little minds! Hungry!" She popped a forkful of food into her mouth, swallowed it, and grinned at Simon.

"River!" Simon gasped. He grabbed her silverware from her and pushed her bowl out of her reach. She reached for the food once, and then settled for pouting when he slapped her hand.

Mal swept in from the bridge. His step was energetic, but the doctor noticed circles under his eyes and thought his face looked drawn. "Looks like we might have us another job. I need to know how long it would take to get to Greenleaf, Wash." He stopped, perplexed at the number of people in the kitchen. "Is there a problem?"

Kaylee spoke up. "Nothin' serious, Cap'n. We might have a little issue with mice in the kitchen, is all."

The captain pushed Jayne aside and inspected the damage himself. "Looks like maybe it confined its attention to this drawer."

"And this one, sir," Zoe added, looking into another drawer.

Jayne backed out of the kitchen while Zoe continued opening drawers and lockers. Wash hovered behind her. "You're gonna protect me, right, hon?" he asked.

"Rodents in the kitchen are a serious health hazard," Simon lectured. "They can spread bacteria of all sorts, not to mention their historical connection to bubonic plague and Beaumonde fever."

Mal raised his eyes from the drawer and glowered. "I think we're all aware of the implications, Doctor."

"What're ya gonna do, Mal?" Jayne asked. "We gotta get rid of 'em before they grow into rats!"

The captain blinked. Twice.

"Yes, Jayne, mice grow into rats, just like asses grow into horses," Wash teased. "Any sign of a tail coming in yet?"

"When you've grown into a man, we can have a conversation about that," Jayne growled.

Inara chimed in. "Jayne's right, Mal. We have to do something."

Mal pressed the spot between his eyes. "OK. OK. Let's not panic. I'll think of something. We've got some time until we reach Greenleaf--if we can't catch them before then, we can surely find some remedy there. Meanwhile, we're extra careful. We wash all silverware, plates and utensils with soap before eating, and we clean up thoroughly directly after. All food and towels go in the lockers, not out where they can draw attention." He skewered Simon with his glare. "That do for now, Doctor?"

Simon nodded. "Yes. That--that should help."

"Shiny. Get yourselves some breakfast people," Mal ordered. He strode from the mess and headed down the stairs towards the cargo bay.

Kaylee blinked her eyes and shook her head vigorously. "Wake up!" she chided herself. She let out a determined sigh and redirected her attention to the salvaged parts she was cleaning and inspecting. She was rubbing a cloth around the inside of a fitting when Mal walked into the engine room like a man with a purpose.

"Hey, Cap'n!"

"Hey, Kaylee. I've just about got some traps put together, but I need some springs. Got anything that'll do?"

"I think so, Cap'n." She put the parts aside, wiped her hands on the cloth, and stood up. "You know, if you'd let me get that kitten on Persephone, you might not have this problem!"

"I was pretty sure I could count on you to bring that up again!"

She smiled at him brightly. "Well, I'd hate to ever let you down!"

"You haven't yet."

"How'd we wind up with rats? Serenity's a clean ship!"

"Mice!" Mal corrected. He shrugged. "We've been moving livestock. Livestock means grain, and, far as I've seen, grain means mice. Now the grain's gone, they're looking around for food and a place to nest. Can't hardly blame 'em."

"Well, I hope you can catch 'em. I think I've got some springs we can salvage in here." She started sorting through a crate of junk parts. "What kind of traps are you makin'?"

"There's only one kind of trap I've ever seen work. Nobody's ever improved on it."

"Cap'n! You mean you're gonna kill 'em?" She was horrified.

Mal chuckled. "Kaywinnit Lee Frye--just what did you think a cat was gonna do with 'em? Dress 'em up in petticoats and have 'em in for tea?"

She grinned sheepishly. "I hadn't rightly thought it through. But that's a cat's nature--yer not that way!"

"Ain't true, Kaylee. You yourself, on more'n one occasion, have called me a pussycat. Are you sayin' now you didn't mean it?"

She thumped him in the chest with her fist. "You know how I meant that!"

He caught her hand and waggled a finger at her. "Striking your captain is a serious offense!" His eyes narrowed and he added with concern, "You look tired, Kaylee. You all right?"

She looked at him defiantly. "So do you, Cap'n!"

"Well, I'm fine!" he snapped.

"So'm I!" she snapped right back.

He locked eyes with her a moment, then released her hand and stepped back. "Well, fine, then. Observation withdrawn." He gestured towards the crate. "Show me what you've got."

Mal sat up in bed with a groan and rubbed his cheeks. Tears. He'd lost count of the number of times Early raped Kaylee while Mal watched helplessly. Funny that tossing his sorry ass into the Black hadn't been enough. Seems the liou mahng was still aboard. Back when he was sergeant, Mal had always been able to snatch deep, dreamless rest during the worst conditions--threat of enemy fire, plague, injuries, fever, or all of the above--as long as Zoe was on watch. 'Course, these days they were trying to live like normal people, keep normal hours. He could hardly inflict watch shifts on the crew at this point--particularly on Wash and Zoe.

He gave up on sleep and rolled out of bed with a heavy sigh. He put his pants on, pulling the suspenders over his bare chest. Like a sleepwalker, he strapped his gun on, felt for the ladder, and groped his way up, his bare toes curling away from the cold metal.

The halls were dark. Everybody else was sensibly asleep. He kept his right hand on his gun as he padded to the mess: truth be told, he felt a little silly prowling the ship alone and armed, but ever since Early took him by surprise in the night, he had taken to always being ready for trouble. Well, as ready for trouble as he could be without messing with putting his boots on: sometimes he liked to feel Serenity's hum through the soul of his feet.

Tonight his perambulations had a goal: the traps he had set in the mess and the cargo bay. As he passed Kaylee's room, he paused, checking to see if her hatch was locked. She had been locking herself in every evening since Early's visit. Mal knew she was finding sleep to be as elusive as he was--he was just at a loss as to what to do about it.

Resignedly, he continued on.

In the kitchen, the trap was sprung and the bait gone. No mouse. Son of a bitch. "I'm just feeding the gorram things," he muttered. He grabbed more protein from the refrigerator and plunked himself down on the floor to bait the trap again. The trap sprang shut twice--son of a whore, ni ta ma de--before he succeeded in setting it.

Then he repeated the entire performance--rutting mice, rutting trap--in the cargo bay. Finally he stood, yawned hugely, and stumbled up the stairs and down the corridor towards his bunk.

As he came even with Kaylee's room, he could hear her talking within. Her voice sounded shrill, afraid, though he couldn't make out any words. He pounded on the hatch and called to her. "Kaylee! You all right, little girl?"

She screamed.

"Kaylee! Open up! Kaylee!" Mal beat on the hatch, throwing his weight against it. When it suddenly clicked open, he barely saved himself from tumbling through the hole in the floor. He dropped down the ladder, spun around, and pulled Kaylee into his arms.

She was sobbing and clinging to him. He looked wildly around, seeking whatever had threatened her, but saw nothing. Finally, he pressed her head against his chest and comforted her. "Shhh, little Kaylee. Shhh. It's all right."

He heard footsteps above and Zoe called down softly, "Everything okay, sir?"

"Under control, Zoe. Go back to bed."

"You heard what he ordered, pumpkin," he heard Wash say.

"Good night, sir."

Mal turned his attention back to his engineer. She had stopped sobbing and was sniffling. She broke away from him, snatched a tissue from her bedside shelf and blew her nose furiously.

"What happened, Kaylee? Bad dreams?"

"I guess so, Cap'n. I woke up, and I heard somebody walkin' upstairs. I keep hearin' that, every night, and I can't help thinkin' that it's Ear--Early, gotten back on the ship somehow. Then I rolled over in bed, opened my eyes, and saw him standing right where you are!"

"But he wasn't really here, right? It was just . . . just your mind having fun with you."

"I know that, Cap'n--but it seemed so real." She looked down at her hands, twisting the wet tissue. "I can't get one thing that he said out of my mind. I was wondering where he came from, and he said maybe I've always been here." She looked up into his eyes. "Makes me think maybe he's still here somehow."

Mal pulled her to him again. "I know. I do. I've been walking the halls at night, with my gun, looking for the xiong meng de kuang ren, I guess. Don't make sense, but I could swear I've caught a glimpse of him more'n once."

She looked up into his face, surprised. Mal's lip crooked in a self-deprecating smile. "The man said those things just to be creepifying."

"Worked, too, didn' it?"

"Mmm hmm." He tightened his arms around her. "Yes, it did. And if you tell anyone . . . "

"Secret's safe with me, Cap'n!" she hastily assured him.

"Well, that's shiny, 'cause I--"

His reply was cut short by two loud blasts and a barrage of muffled cursing.

"Stay here!" he ordered and scrambled up the ladder. He followed the noise to Jayne's bunk. One tap on the hatch caused it to open--Jayne never locked it, probably in the hope that one of the females would wander his way in the middle of the night. "Jayne! You all right?" he called down.

"Geez, Mal!" came the shaky reply. "I--I'm okay."

"You decent?"

"Hardly ever."

"Ask a stupid question . . ." Mal grumbled as he descended the ladder. The small room was pungent with the smell of gunpowder. When he looked around, he discovered Jayne jammed into the far corner, a gun in his hand and a glazed look in his eyes. "Mighty small quarters for gunplay!" the captain observed.

"Yeah--I figgered that out. The ricochets were--well, the bullets just kept flyin'!" Fresh marks on the walls bore out his story.

"What the hell were you shooting at?"

"It was a rat, Mal. A big ol' mean-eyed, yeller-teethed liou mahng. Right here in my room!"

The captain peered into every corner and pulled the bedclothes back. "Nothin' here now. Can you get to sleep on your own, or do you want me to tuck you in and tell you a story?"

"Gorram it!" Jayne snapped, disgusted. He threw his gun down at the head of the bed, slammed his pillow on top of it, and flung himself down. "Turn the light out on yer way out!"

"Sweet dreams," Mal laughed as he climbed out.