Author's Note: Chapter 7 of 8

Summary: As the situation spirals from bad to worse, Mal is visited by a dead man, River's journey for peace takes her to a startling moment of discovery and freedom, and Simon makes a choice that could change the crew of Serenity's lives in a way they never thought possible.

Choices

"To be a good soldier you must love the army. But to be a good officer you must be willing to order the death of the thing you love. That is . . . a very hard thing to do. No other profession requires it. That is one reason why there are so very few good officers. Although there are many good men."

"There was this truth about war: it taught you the men you could depend on." - The Killer Angels

Dead is Safe

Golden light spills in through an open door, glows golden through the walls as a clean breeze sweeps through the courtyard.

"Time to wake up."

***

Outside the abbey gates, Simon stands in the rain, overlooking the rolling hills that stretch below to the north. His hair falls unheeded into his eyes, and the warm rain can no longer keep away the chill that has seeped into his bones.

Skin numbed, he stares unseeing to the horizon, and Chow has no difficulty dragging him back under the relative dryness of the thick abbey wall, where it arches over the gate.

Simon barely notices, but continues to stare vacantly out, in the direction of a herd of cattle in the northwestern fields.

Chow watches him, a shadow falling over his face, but doesn't speak for a moment. Instead, he turns his gaze to the herd who stand huddled against the storm, the calves unseen in the middle, protected.

The rain pummels the grass flat across to the horizon, and streams course down in undulating paths along the roll of the land.

***

In a decrepit bar, rain pounding on the tin roof and leaking through the cracks, a grizzled man sits. His shoulders and hair are rain-spattered, the stained table his hands rest on is in the back corner by the occupied phone, tucked away in the shadows. Scars line his face, jagged hooks and starbursts of pale tissue that interrupt his beard. He doesn't blink as the man behind him ends the phone call and joins him, pulling up a stained chair.

One eye is obscured by a patch, his jaw smooth, and his shoulders and hair also damp from the rain that drips on the table.

"Deals confirmed," One-Eye says. "Man on the inside says wait for details on the target."

Scar allows a small smile of satisfaction, "Grudges are a profitable thing."

One-Eye smiles widely, "Our target makes a nice bragging right if this goes through."

"That would be a foolish thing to do," Scar advises, his voice cold as ice as he stares hard at his protégé.


***

Eyes furtively look away as a man approaches a security station. The senior officer stands smartly and accepts the ident card handed to him. Sliding it through he regards the older man before him with reverence, looking away in respect after a brief moment, "Scuttlebutt said you were aboard, sir. To what do we owe this honor?"

A smooth, rich voice replies, "I have business that I mean to collect on." Brown eyes smile at the officer, "You have a man here that I would like to speak to. A Captain Malcolm Reynolds."

The officer nods, "Of course, sir. This way."

***

River watches impassively, indifferent, as another blow rocks Mal back in the grip of the younger fed. She ignores the captain and peers over the older feds shoulder, to where the door should be, and still isn't.

"You know," Mal spits, head rolling back as the bench connects with the floor again, "If you're not hungry yet, I'm starting to feel a mite peckish myself." Blood trickles from a split in his brow.

River sidesteps the two feds, leaving Mal behind her as she calmly approaches the far side of the room.

"Independent scum. Don't know when to stay down." The older fed punctuates this with another blow to Mal's face.

River glances over her shoulder and rolls her eyes, returning to her investigation of the wall. She runs her hands along the blankness, curious, confused, and hears Mal from behind her.

"For a winner you sure seem a mite sore." A smile tinges the captain's voice, "Some of your own give it to you one too many?"

The older man lashes out just as the younger fed glances up in surprise when the door opens, loosening his hold on the captain.

No longer help upright, Mal is sent backwards from the force of the punch as the bench under him topples--

His back hits the ground hard, his head ringing. Looking right he sees the pale sightless face of Bendis.

Beyond that he sees bare feet and the torn hem of a skirt, scraped knees.

Turning his eyes upward in surprise he sees a girl, impervious to the violence around her. At first she doesn't realize he is staring at her, and their eyes meet in mutual shock.

She quickly steps over Bendis's body and kneels down, "He is coming wearing the dead man's name, don't be afraid."

Mal continues to stare, surprise turning to horror, "River?"

She stands back up, flicking a cool gaze to the rain of bombs and fire over the sandbags. Turning her eyes back to him, she asks, "Please let me go."

The burning valley rushes away, sweeping River with it and--

Mal opens his eyes and flinches at the bright lights of the interrogation room. He groans as he feels his arms crushed beneath him, sound still fuzzy in his ears.

As hands haul him up, setting the bench to rights, he hears a new voice, faintly familiar.

***

River slips down the wall, brow beaded with sweat, gasping weakly in momentary relief. Collapsing completely to the cold floor, she closes her eyes as she places a hand against the solid implacableness of the locked door, almost smiling.

Her eyes fly open in sudden remembrance or realization of something, and she quickly clamps them back shut, ducking her head in shame. Drawing her knees up, she wraps her head in her arms, and quietly begins to weep, her face twisting with self-reproach.

In the other cell Inara raises her head as River's voice falls silent, her eyes searching the blank wall.

***

"Those are our cattle out there," Chow begins, his soft voice cutting through the pounding of the rain, "We should have moved them this morning to the south pasture, but for the rain."

Simon doesn't reply at first, seeming to not have heard the shepherd.

Finally: "But for us," he clarifies blackly, still staring out into the rain.

Chow studies Simon's face carefully, "Our purpose here is to ease the burdens of others." He smiles, "Generally that means taking the weight upon ourselves." Chow looks from Simon back out to the cattle in the distance, "Many of the local ranchers here on Grenfield scrape by, under vigorous restrictions of the Alliance that the we at the abbey don't have to abide by."

Simon doesn't respond.

"Most ranchers can't afford the labor to keep their farms running. We shepherds do what we can to assist them. It is all part of the work we do in God's name."

Simon laughs bitterly, "I guess you could say that we were doing God's work." He finally looks at Chow, giving a vicious smile, "Our jobs aren't all that different."

Chow looks mildly offended by this idea, "How is that?"

Simon continues his mirthless laugh, "The only reason we're on this shee-niou planet is because we were doing a favor for one of your 'local ranchers'."

Chow overlooks Simon's insult, "Do you really believe that coming here endangered you?"

Simon sobers, "No." He looks slightly ashamed for his outburst, "No, they would have found us, sooner or later. If not here, then somewhere else . . . out in the black, maybe."

Chow nods his approval, looking out at the huddled herd as they wait for better weather. They stand in silence a moment.

"Who was this rancher?" Chow tries again to distract Simon from his thoughts.

"Shuh mu?" Simon starts, looking at Chow as if he forgot they had ever spoken.

"Perhaps I know the family."

Simon looks distant, thinking a moment, "Chet . . . might be Reynolds, I'm not sure."

The shepherd pauses, trying to remember, "Reynolds? No."

Simon has already stopped listening.

"But I know a Chetham Farrel. Old Time hand out from one of the more prosperous border moons. Worked for a lady there before things got bad. He fled here with his family when the Alliance started pushing."

"Why didn't he go back?" Simon asks, not really interested, only going through the motions of conversation, "After the war was over?"

"Nothing grows on Shadow anymore."

This catches Simon's attention, but Chow is thinking on other things, "Chet is a good man, but he has a lot of troubles. His children left him after this life proved too hard." Chow extends a sweeping hand toward the horizon, "If we weren't here, him . . . and half of these ranches would fold. It's nearly impossible to stay afloat on Alliance terms." Chow lets out a breath, "Now it's just an old man and his wife and several transient hands." He pauses and looks at Simon sidelong, "You're not the first merchant ship to have under the table dealings with him, and you won't be the last."

Simon is lost again in his own thoughts when Chow takes him by the arm to lead him back inside.

He shakes loose, giving Chow a suspicious glare.

The shepherd insists, "You should go back inside, you're not well."

Simon shivers in response, sharing a quiet look, and follows him back into the abbey, the way back to the courtyard not so mysterious or elaborate as it had seemed the night before. Behind him, out on the plains, the rain begins to slow.

***

Mal is set back down on the bench, blood running into his left eye, blinding him. The cuffs are removed from his wrists and he quickly blots at his face with his torn sleeve, the other arm hanging limply in his lap. He can hear the two feds moving away. The door opens, two sets of footsteps move out into the corridor, and the door swings back shut.

The room is silent.

He blinks his eyes clear and hears a step at the other side of the room. Stopping, one hand clasping the crusted gash on his arm, he raises his head, finally seeing the other man standing in front of him. For a moment Mal's face goes slack as he stares in surprise. The other man steps closer as Mal ducks his head, his face hidden for a brief moment by his fallen hair. When he looks back up, his face is schooled into a blank mask, a hint of a challenge in his eyes as he meets the gaze of the new come stranger.

***

River finally quiets, murmuring as she drifts off into the oblivion of utter exhaustion,

"Names . . . everyone has a story to tell . . . need to forget the name . . . start a new book . . ."

***

"I don't like it," Zoe says, pacing the bridge.

Wash tries to still her movements, "Because the past two days were so very likeable."

"No," she shakes her head, pulling away, restless. "Something's going to happen."

He raises his hands in exasperation, asking rhetorically, "Yes, and I vote that it involves us staying here and worrying in relative safety."

Zoe stops and gives him a pointed look, her mind made up, "I'll be back."

***

Simon sits back in the chair in the infirmary and allows Chow to drape a blanket over his wet shoulders, staring indifferently at the floor.

The monitors beep steadily as Jayne rests quietly, mingling discordantly with the steady rap of the deerchaser in the courtyard.

The shepherd watches Simon for a moment and is about to say something when a frail tap at the open door alerts him to Old Father.

The smaller man whispers quietly to him, not out of secrecy, but from old age and a respect for the two injured men inside. Chow looks over his shoulder at Simon, but the younger man doesn't notice. Without a word he leaves, sliding the door closed on Simon and Jayne.

Simon raises his head tiredly, glancing at the closed door, then lays his head in his hands.

Outside the rain continues to fall, but softer now, and the deerchaser continues to tap.

On the back of his eyelids he sees an elongated square of blue on black. He rubs his eyes till there is only black. A wind rushes in his ears as he is pulled in a black undercurrent, through familiar corridors that he knows from sleepless nights.

Over all this he can hear a steady tapping, dull and heavy, still faint and far away. A small teardrop of blue cuts through the blackness ahead, growing larger.

Echoing loudly as he bursts through the doorway into the vastness of the cargo bay, and with an deafening abruptness, the rushing wind ceases.

Silence.

The moonlight spills through the open door, reflecting off the floor and filling the open space with a silver light. A thousand stars are captured in the drops of rain on the ramp. Tiny rivulets still trickle down to the wet grass outside. Water drips softly outside from the neck of Serenity, and a cool clean wind picks up, ruffling his hair softly.

Simon can hear breathing not his own, and the soft tapping of a gun against Mal's thigh.

The captain stares out into the night, looking to the soft glow of the capital on the horizon, his face bathed in moonlight.

Simon watches silently, waiting.

Mal glances at him briefly, the captain's face cut sharply in half by shadow. One eye glints brightly, the burn a black stain on the captain's cheek. Mal turns back to the stars, muscles tensing as he clenches his jaw. He looks to the side, the back of his head now to Simon, as he places one hand on the doorway, reaffirming Serenity's solidity. He lets his hand slide down, turning back again to night sky as he begins to flick the hammer of his gun.


Simon lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, the muscles relaxing in his shoulders, unclenching his own empty hands. An expression of exasperation and not a little bit of anger replacing the fear.

"You're not going to kill me," he states, and the rhythmic whine of the gun stops.

Mal blinks once at him, slightly startled, then, in a quiet voice, "There's a notion."

With a swiftness the barrel of the gun presses against the middle of Simon's head and a cold glint is in Mal's eye.

Simon's hands rise inadvertently, and he stares with renewed uncertainty at the captain.

***

Mal ignores the blood that resumes to trickle down his face till he can't bear it any longer, swiping at his brow. He glances briefly up at the man on the other side of the room, shaking his head in an abortive gesture, waiting for the newcomer to make the first move.

The man takes a step closer, his soft deep voice cautious, "Captain Malcolm Reynolds."

Mal looks back, not a flicker of recognition in his eyes, "Should I know you?"

Book nearly smiles, "No."

***

Mal's face twists in anger. "You don't know me boy, and that's a dangerous thing."

Simon nods slowly, hands still raised, "That's not entirely my fault."

"I mistook you." Mal smiles at Simon's refusal to cow. "Overestimated you. Just as you've underestimated me."

Simon says cautiously, "I think we've both fallen prey to perilous misunderstandings."

"I'm thinking you're not wrong about that," Mal agrees, "It wasn't a light thing I did when I took you and your sister in."

"Mal, I kno--" Simon begins to explain.

"No. You apparently don't know. So let me make clear where it was I thought we stood."

Simon juts his chin out, trying to keep from shaking as the gun digs into his forehead, refusing to back away.

"I've kept you despite the trouble you bring. Made you crew--"

Simon opens his mouth to speak but Mal cuts him off, pressing the gun harder against his brow.

"Which makes me accountable for you, including your sister. Again, not a thing I'm apt to take lightly."

Simon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"As such, there are certain things I expect back in return." Mal releases the pressure on Simon's forehead. "I understand that you have your own responsibilities, and I've gone out of my way to respect that. As crew of this ship, however, it follows that I am your captain. Which means you listen to me."

He lowers the muzzle to Simon's chest, giving it a painful jab, "Crew." Mal knocks back the hammer one last time, "Captain."

***

Mal asks, his tone cautious, "You Alliance?"

"You might say that." Book smiles.

***

Simon swallows.

"Dong ma?" Mal's voice is quiet, strained.

Simon opens his eyes, "Yes."

Mal gets his anger back under control, waiting the space of a few breaths as he keeps his gun trained on Simon's chest.

"Have you ever been responsible for a life, Simon?"

The doctor gives him a dumb look.

***

"What business you got with me?" Mal demands quietly, his eyes cold as death.

Book takes a step closer, his posture arrogant and assured, "I didn't believe it when I'd heard."

Mal stares warily.

"Your deal," Book continues, "Seems you have quite the silver tongue."

Mal smiles tightly, his eyes never wavering from their distrust, "Yeah, almost got everything I wanted."

Book darkens, "At whose cost?"

***

Simon stares at the captain as if he had lost his head, "You keep forgetting--"

Mal cuts the doctor off before he can finish.

"I'm talking to a doctor, yeah," He mentally kicks himself. "I don't mean healing people-- taking something broken and putting it back together. I mean looking a person in the eye and knowingly sending'm off to their death. The power to make things worse, not better. That kinda responsible."

Simon shakes his head, "No."

"You made hard choices in the trauma room." Mal waits a moment, "Right?"

Simon nods.

"Then you know that you can't let them see your doubt, no hesitation. You can't afford others questioning your decision, can't let them know how bitter the choices are. That's not their weight to bear." He looks back, "Out here, Simon, it's not yours anymore. It's mine."

"But you're right." Mal lowers his gun, holstering it, "I'm not gonna to kill you, Simon."

***

"Doesn't matter," Mal heaves a frustrated breath through his nose like a caged animal. "I couldn't hold up my end."

Book says slowly, his voice rhythmic, "I can't help but wonder if you ever intended to honor this deal."

Mal cagily eyes the older man for a moment, the situation far out of his control, "No."

"I didn't imagine so," Book agrees, believing Mal.

"Glad to hear it. " The older man pauses in amused reflection, "What if the deal were back on?"

Mal looks nervous, still wracked with misgivings over the other man's intentions, shaking his head, "I can't give them what they want."

Book looks the captain straight in the eyes and states, "I can."

Mal curses softly under his breath, his battle over trusting Book suddenly falling to the side of not.

Book continues, leaning close to Mal, "And I can put you back in a position where you can make good on your word."

Surprised and off-balanced, Mal quickly rethinks the situation and asks carefully, "What's in it for you?"

"I'm looking to turn in my wings for good," Book announces, standing straight. "I have been retired all but officially the past decade, and I'd like to free myself of the last vestiges of this name and title. Not have to work anymore. I find all this . . ." he gestures vaguely, "Distasteful."

Warily, with a look of dawning realization, Mal asks, "Don't believe I caught your name."

"I never gave it." Book smiles as Mal finally understands.

"No," Mal's face is studiously blank. "You didn't"

Book smiles coldly as he introduces himself, "Gabriel Godsey, former commander of Echo Force."

Mal stares, impassive, the name not visibly registering.

"Black ops," Book explains, "You wouldn't have heard of us. I acquired a certain rep amongst the fringers as the Angel of Death."

Mal blinks, shrugs, waiting for the shepherd to continue.

"Long before you ever took to the skies, Captain," he offers in a fatherly tone. Gingerly, he explains as much as he is able, "Most of what I've done never happened, things that I am unable to speak of. Even now I travel with no footprints. It'll be nice to have a name that stays." He stares pointedly at Mal, "Live simple. Find some trustworthy folk."

***

"You're not going to kill me." Simon recites the words back. His brow furrows in comic confusion as he bluntly asks, "Why not?"

Mal doesn't answer as Simon stares him down, and the captain shifts uncomfortably.

The younger man waits a beat, then, "So, what are you going to do?"

Mal doesn't answer right away, and Simon lets out a shaky breath as his future is no longer so certain.

Turning calm eyes back to Simon, "We need a location before we can do anything, right? I'll get that for you." Brightly, a plan of action warming his blood, he says, "Figger they left some feds back at the shuttle who are just itching to give me a ride straight to wherever it may be they're holding River."

"That's insanity," Simon protests. Blurting out before he realizes what he is saying, "I'll go."

Mal laughs at that. "I don't think our cover story will work quite so well coming from the mouth of the Federal fugitive himself." He smiles patiently, "They've got Inara. She needs to be gotten free and clear of this. If me and her manage to convince the feds, could be all's we need worry about is your sister, which isn't much of a stretch from the norm."

Simon comments dryly, "I know I didn't hit your head that hard."

Mal rubs absently at the back of his head, "We beg to differ."

Simon sighs in frustration, "You can't . . . Mal, they need you here."

"No. They don't," his voice is tinged with resignation. "Actually, right now they're in much more need of you than me."

Softly, "I can't--"

He cuts him off, all steel again, "Gorramit! I'm asking you to trust me for once, Simon!"

Simon stops short, acquiescing, looking down at his hands. "What do you need me to do?"

His voice is laced with bitterness, "You're gonna have to prove to me you truly understand your obligation to me and the rest of my crew."

"How?" Simon glances at Mal with distrust, still not ready to blindly accept Mal's orders.

Mal says quietly, almost choking on the words, "You wanted command? Well, you got it."

***

"It's a hard thing to find: trust." Book's gaze bores into the captain.

Mal works his jaw, "It's hard to know what the right choice is when people aren't being up front."

The shepherd raises an eyebrow, conceding, "Indeed."

***

Simon struggles, fighting back the protest that forms in his throat, his eyes widening. Mal watches him, gives him time to let it sink in.

Silence threatens to swallow them again.

"You are insane. Zoe should be the one--"

"If things go badly, and she's in charge, she will turn you in. Or kill you. She wants to. I'm trying to keep us all alive."

Simon tries one last time to escape, "I meant to kill you."

The corner of Mal's mouth trembles, and his eyes soften, "I know." Mal lets that register, listening to the steady drip of water outside.

When Simon makes no further protest, he steps back from the open cargo door, all business.

"Book's clammed up around me, might be he trusts you more," Mal turns away from the ramp, stepping closer to the edge of the moonlight and shadow, "Might be he can think of a way around this."

He turns and watches Simon, who seems to be lost in thought. "Listen," he begins.

The doctor focuses his eyes on Mal.

"There's an abbey not far from here, might be you can lay low, take the heat off Serenity." He steps back, shadows slipping over his shoulders.

Finding his boldness, Simon calls after him, "If Inara wasn't there, would you even be doing this?"

Mal considers this as he looks back out onto the moonlit fields. Quietly, without meeting Simon's gaze, he asks, "Are you still questioning my intentions?"

Simon freezes, then, "Yes."

A sad smile pulls at the corner of Mal's mouth, "Just so we're clear."

Simon relaxes and pushes further, "If this works, if you somehow miraculously manage to clear everyone's name . . . You know that any attempt to break out River will undo that freedom in a moment? It'll all point right back to Serenity."

Mal smiles, eyes distant even in the dark, "Let's just deal with what's in front of us." He turns, completely engulfed by the shadows.

Simon follows him deeper into the darkness of the cargo bay, "Do you even have any intentions at all of freeing her? My sister?"

Mal stops, turning, his face barely a blur in the deeper shadows. Simon can't read his expression.

Only the ghost of a voice that murmurs, "You still don't get it." Mal gives a half-hearted laugh as he turns and rummages inside a dark locker, finding what he needs. His voice muffled, his back still to Simon, he says absently, "Ship's yours."

Mal turns to face him again, clothed in shadow, his voice stronger, "And Simon."

"Yes?"

Mal unfastens his holster, handing it and the gun to Simon, who reluctantly takes them.

"Time for fessin' is over. You keep this dark night of the soul to yourself. Kaylee-- nobody need know 'bout it."

***

Zoe pilots the small shuttle, the rolling fields whipping past below in the afternoon sun. The sprawl of the abbey is a swiftly approaching shadow ahead. Her face is stony, her hands clenched on the nav controls, as she curses under her breath.

***

"Time to wake up."

It takes a moment for Chow's voice to register.

Simon rouses himself, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he looks up at the shepherd's somber face, then to the open door.

Golden light spills in through the doorway and glows golden through the walls as a clean breeze sweeps through the courtyard. Looking back to the shepherd, he realizes that Chow is now wearing Alliance gray, complete with a standard issue firearm at his side.

Simon's eyes open wider, a flicker of surprise fading into mild alarm. "Book?" Simon deduces.

Outside the deerchaser has fallen deafeningly silent, almost marking the stop of time.

Chow nods, "I've just spoken with him. He's with your captain at the I.A.V. Beltaine."

Simon stands stiffly, the blanket falling from his shoulders, "What did he say?"

"Your captain's plan has failed in part." Chow pauses, grimacing in distaste before he continues, "But there is a way to get it back on track."

Simon listens as he neatly folds the blanket and lays it on the chair, "How?" He schools his face to suppress the excitement.

"Book can ensure the full pardon of the Firefly and its crew if sister and brother are both turned into the authorities."

Simon stops moving, his expression darkening. "What happens to River and I after we are taken into custody?" He walks over to Jayne, his voice studiously casual, and begins checking the bandages, hands shaking.

"Then the Alliance will immediately notify those persons most interested in you and your sister . . ."

"And there won't be any chance at all to break us back out," Simon concludes, looking quietly up at Chow.

The shepherd nods.

Simon crumples a bandage wrapper in his hand, defeat and hope mingling in his voice, "This is the real thing? You're not going to tell me that you and Book have some fiendishly spectacular plan of escape?"

Chow is pained as he says, "I'm sorry, Simon. Book has only made the Alliance keep their word on a deal your captain made in jest."

Simon stares at the shepherd a moment before his face hardens, "Bullshit."

Chow looks surprised as Simon continues, his voice cold,

"I'm not giving up on my sister."

"There's no other way, Si--" Chow begins.

Simon throws a steel tray against the wall, scattering it's contents across the floor in a loud clatter. "No!" he shouts, his eyes fierce. "You know where she is! We can--"

Chow suddenly brings his height to bear as he looms over the doctor, "Even if you find a way to save your sister, what about your crew?"

Simon swallows his outburst, inadvertently backing away from Chow, and repeats quietly, "I'm not giving up."

"Giving up is the only way your crew will get through this."

Finally, Simon nods, and Chow backs away, giving him space. The doctor's face darkens as a new thought occurs to him, "What about Inara?"

Chow grimaces at the bitterness of more bad news, "She has implicated herself beyond doubt."

He sees Simon's indecision. "No one can help her now. But you have the chance to spare the lives of five others."

Simon pales, swaying a bit on his feet as he is suddenly overwhelmed.

"You have to make a choice now, Simon."

The young doctor stands motionless for a moment, feet steadied. Then, with his mind made up, unbuckles the holster and hands it to Chow, "I'm ready."

He seems suddenly lost, glancing in confusion around the infirmary. He seems to remember himself, and says softly, his confidence gone, "I only ever wanted to keep her safe."

Chow replies compassionately, "The only people who are truly safe are the dead."

Simon continues to stare inwardly.

"Come," the shepherd says softly, "We should go."

Simon looks up in sudden revelation as Chow turns towards the door. He backs towards the cabinets and begins searching through the bottles that rattle as he fumbles through them. His fingers find what they were looking for just as strong hands clamp over his wrists from behind, forcing him to drop the bottle, pills rattling inside. It rolls across the counter, skull and crossbones facing up.

Turning, he looks at Chow's angry face as the shepherd growls, "That is the voice of despair."

Simon stares back, panicked, "You don't know what they did to her--what they'll do to her again!"

"Don't beckon death to your door. It will come in it's own time. That time isn't now." Chow lets Simon's hands go and reaches in warning for the restraints at his side.

Simon straightens, getting the hint. He gives one last look to Jayne on the table, before preceding Chow out the door.

***

Zoe opens the hatch and rushes out of the shuttle, booted feet splashing through the puddled grass to the abbey gate.

Her footsteps echo through the alleys and walkways, pounding on the stone as she breaks through into the courtyard. Swinging hard around the corner, she rushes into the infirmary.

Jayne lies peacefully alone, the monitors beeping steadily.

She looks behind her, the courtyard is empty. Cutting across the lawn, she reaches the guestrooms.

Empty.

In the kitchen strangers stare back at her in surprise.

Impatiently she asks, "Where's--"

She hears a whine above her, outside. Pushing back from the doorway she looks up to the rooftops and sky.

Racing through narrow alleys she reaches the twisted stairs that lead up, taking them three at a time.

She bursts out of the darkened passageway onto the rooftop in time to see the battered abbey shuttle disappearing into the western sky.

Panting breathlessly, she turns her eyes to the other figure on the rooftop.

Old Father.

The brittle old man watches her and holds out a slip of paper.

Walking slowly towards him, she doesn't take her eyes off his face. She takes the paper from him, unfolding it as he walks away, leaving her alone with the sky.

She doesn't recognize the writing, but then again she has never seen Simon's script. The words are his.

Comms may not be safe. Only one choice left. You should be safe soon.

Tagged on the end as an afterthought: We were both wrong.

He didn't sign it

***

Book moves away, "Simon Tam should be arriving shortly. I need to make sure the reward is credited to my account once he arrives."

He turns to leave.

Mal queries, "How did you find him?"

Book turns.

Mal elaborates, struggling with the phrasing, "Won't the Alliance think it odd you bringing in a fugitive all serendipitous and such?"

"They don't question me," Book assures him.

Mal nods and watches Book leave.

Book turns back one last time, "You and Serenity are free. Once Simon arrives, a certain party is going to be contacted to come for him and River." Book seems nervous, "There won't be much time before then. Wait on the docks. And Captain Reynolds--"

"Not a word," Mal agrees.

***

Mal is led down the pristine and sterile corridor, hands swinging free at his side. At a junction ahead, he sees a squad of feds walking past. A familiar face follows.

The captain quickens his pace.

Hands cuffed, face white as a sheet, Simon doesn't see him, but stares straight ahead.

Mal passes his escort as they both reach the junction, the escort grabbing Mal's arm and holding him back.

Five more guards follow closely on Simon's heels, and he is lost to sight as he continues on down the corridor.

***

"What are the charges against me?" Simon says loudly, vainly resisting his guard as he tries to stop in front of the commanding officer.

Kibrom doesn't answer.

"Never mind that," Simon amends as he is dragged away, his voice rising, "What crimes has my poor kidnapped sister committed?"

Kibrom gives a signal to one of the other guards.

"You've arrested her as well!" he screams, his voice almost cracking as he frantically tries to make himself heard. "Where is she--"

The guard gags Simon and ushers him into the waiting prisoner transport class shuttle.

Kibrom turns on his heel, walking away as a gray-eyed fed, long blond hair pulled back severely, falls in step with him.

***

"Contact the party in question," Kibrom says to the comms officer. "Let them know the package is in transit. Keep this quiet."

He turns to the waiting woman, "Ma'am?"

The blond fed walks him out of earshot of the comms officer, her voice low in confidence, "What are the charges against the Tam's?"

Kibrom looks annoyed, "It's not our--"

"Don't bullshit me Kibrom. Why were we not allowed to question the sister? Why did I spend the entire morning banging my head against a wall with the Companion? What are the charges?"

Gruffly, trying to brush her off, "Kidnapping."

She lets him, nodding, "He kidnapped his sister?"

Kibrom nods back.

"And that is all?"

Kibrom gives her a stony look before walking away, leaving the interrogation quickly behind.

Softly, to herself, "Indeed, I do have a choice."

***

The blond fed hears her own voice, weak and hollow, speaking faintly from the vid, "It is not for me to decide the truth of my orders."

Her eyes fall for a moment as the companions voice plays, stronger and more assured than her own, still tinny in the speakers, "No, you only enforce what you know to be an injustice."

She grimaces as she listens to her own feeble protest, "Miss Serra--"

"You wonder why I would remain in the company of fugitives?"

The blond woman raises her eyes as the Companion continues to talk with an unfeigned passion, "Because Simon was right in what he did. River is an innocent, a victim of our own government. Her brother did what was best for her." The fed watches as the companion approaches her, ignoring the two guards on either side of her.

"A young girl is tortured and her brother sacrifices all he has and is for her sake," Inara says on the vid screen. "It was men within our own government he was protecting her from, and now you are helping to return her to that nightmare. The truth is that keeping them safe no matter your laws was and is the right thing."

The fed hits a key and the vid squiggles in reverse. She hits another key and the vid resumes play, watching as Inara is approached by the two guards. She hears her own voice, "Miss Serra, I am recommending your release."

She hits stop, hesitates.

Purges the rest of the document.

***

Mal stands very still amongst the rushing of the crowd around him, lost, without direction. His face is muddied with smeared blood, haggard and starting to bruise. Brown stains his shirt and the torn sleeve hangs loosely as he cradles his arm absently against his stomach.

No one notices, they all just rush on past, his tired body swaying easily in the sea of people, the air buzzing in a blur of voices and footsteps.

He stares vacantly at the docks, his head higher than the rest.

Ships stretching on seemingly forever. Doesn't matter, none of them are his.

Somewhere a musician strikes up a duduk, softly beginning to wail. The noises fade away into a numbing white noise as his body is jostled by the passerbys, leaving only his breath in his ears.

He feels it before he sees. A rippling in the crowd, like a wave, pressing in from behind. Turning, he sees the crowd part as a detail of feds march on through. The duduk drifts back in, hauntingly beautiful.

Glimmering in the center of the detail, as a light house rises out of the fog to call the lost ships home, is Inara.

The crowd crushes in and the tumbling of voices assails him again as he puts his feet to motion, pushing through to intercept her. Wading through the crowd, he struggles to keep his eyes on her as she passes a gate and out of sight.

When he breaks through to where she had been, the crowd sweeps into the wake of her passing, and several feds scatter past him.

Turning desperately, he catches sight of her just ahead, where the crowd has lessened, her dark hair swaying loose behind her. Only one fed remains as her escort, and Mal doesn't stop to wonder at it.

Pushing past the last gathering of travelers, he sets his eyes once again on his goal and jogs up behind her, easing his way around to just within sight of the corner of her eye. He matches pace silently, staring ahead.

Slowly, a ghost of a smile forms on his face as he sees her eyes flit sideways.

The docks sweep past them as they continue onward, neither looking at the other as small smiles illuminate their faces. Mal reaches up and lightly clasps her arm, moving fully alongside her.

"It's a damned fine feeling," he says, keeping pace, a foolish grin on his face, "Besting the Alliance."

She smiles broadly, against her will, the light reaching her eyes as she removes his hand from her arm.

They continue on in a heady silence, stride for stride, until they reach a checkpoint, and a hand on Mal's shoulder stops him. A fed holds him back as Inara continues onward.

His hand reaches out, her fingers slipping from his in the grip she hadn't let go of until now.

He watches her move proudly and gracefully down through the sloping concourse, till he is alone again on the docks of the Alliance cruiser, in a sea of strangers.

The grin fades from his face as he turns back to where the feds had gone, swiping his hand over his tired face as the adrenaline suddenly leaves him staggering.

Turning, he stops short of almost running into a very broad chest.

Looking up he sees a man, larger than Jayne. Alliance uniform and soft almond eyes, hand resting on a gun.

"Captain Reynolds?"

***

The engine of the prisoner transport hums in warm-up, sounding sharp through the open door.

Simon eyes the guard as he is cuffed and strapped into the webbed bench along the wall inside the shuttle, his eyes raised up under a dark brow, mouth gagged.

When the gray uniform leaves his sight, he drops his challenging gaze, which swiftly turns to distress when he sees his sister, sitting across from him. She is also bound and gagged, secured to her seat, their knees only two feet apart. Eyes closed, she whimpers softly, trembling in her sleep.

Simon's eyes begin well with tears, his face reddening.

Her head sags forward, chin on her chest, hair falling in wisps to hide her face. Glimpses of her closed eyes revealing dark circles.

Simon tears his eyes away from his sister and turns his head to the side as the door slides shut, sealing them in with the silence.

Alone in the shuttle, with only their breathing to break the deathly hush. He looks back at River, straining against his bonds. Silently, tears slip down his cheeks.

Restrained and silenced, he stomps his foot on the deck.

A strangled sound of frustration and despair escapes him when she doesn't respond. Looking wildly around, it begins to sink in that there is no help, and no one is coming.

Simon feels the prison transport begin to move, and hangs his own head.

***

The afternoon sun beats down, no wind to cool the air or stir the drying grass.

One Eye listens to a comm as he watches the sky. Putting it down on an open weapons case, he turns to the older scarred man next to him, "Target's on the move."

"Same trajectory?" the other man asks.

The one-eyed man grins, "Just like our guy said."

***

Simon raises his head in alarm as the cockpit door unlocks and opens, looking to his sister in renewed fear.

The fear subsides, but he watches warily and uncertain as Book glances briefly at River, whose head bobs lightly, eyes still closed.

Keys jangle in the shepherd's hand, and Simon forces his shoulders to relax as Book approaches him. The shepherd smiles softly, undoing the gag before unfastening Simon's hands.

As soon as he is freed, "Was this your plan all along?" Simon asks, outraged.

Book has the decency to look shame-faced, "I apologize for the deception." He unfastens River, his back to Simon, "I wasn't at all sure if this would work. Convincing the commander that I should be the one to pilot this prison transport was touch and go."

Simon doesn't believe him, "How could you have risked our lives like that?!"

"Nobody forced you to turn yourself in, Simon." Book frowns as he removes River's gag, "Yet here you are. Almost on your way to a very bad place."

Book stands, smiling enigmatically, "In fact, we still are."

***

The scarred man squints his eyes in the sun, shading the screen in front of him.

"Money's in our account. Old man was good on his word."

One Eye smiles, "I would do this for free."

***

Simon pushes past the shepherd, kneeling next to River almost protectively, touching her face gently. Her eyes flutter open, confused, a brief smile flickering across her face as she focuses on her brother.

"Ge ge," she murmurs tiredly, smiling fondly before almost immediately slipping off again.

Simon smiles back, his eyes bright.

Book steps toward the cockpit as River stirs, remembering something, for she cries out suddenly, "I'm sorry!"

"Shhh, mei mei," Simon hushes as he reaches out for her, drawing her gently down into a tender embrace, "It's okay now."

She slips into his lap, draping her arms around Simon's back and burying her face in his neck, sighing as her dark mood flees as swiftly as it came.

Simon wraps his arms more tightly around her, burying his face in her hair, whispering, "You're safe now." He closes his eyes, smiling unconvincingly for a moment before it falters. He gives Book a panicked glance, "Serenity--the arrest warrants? Mal and--"

Book smiles, "Don't worry, son. Only a few more loose ends that need tying up."

River raises her head to look at her brother, voice sleepy and full of smiles, "Dead man's here."

She looks at Book the same time her brother does. One sweet smiles and the other fear and worry.

"How--they'll connect this to--" Simon calls to Book, who has disappeared back into the cockpit.

"Going to die." River lays her head back on his shoulder and he finds himself staring at her hair. Simon can't stop feeling a growing dread.

The shuttle lurches as something hits it.

***

Scar puts the comm down, "Won't be long now."

One Eye squints at the screen of the radar, "Can't see'm yet. Still in that gorram field."

"Not for long."

***

Simon carries River over to the door, grimacing as she presses into his ribs. He glances back toward the cockpit where Book disappeared for reasons unknown. He thumbs the control panel to open the door.

He is suddenly standing face to face with Mal, a stupid grin shining through the captain's exhaustion, arm cradled against his stomach.

Simon breathes out a deep sigh of immense relief, his face softening at the sight of the captain. Mal grins even more at him and Simon seems to look inward, surprise coloring his face.

"Hiya doc," Mal greets, his eyes flickering down to River, almost limp in her brother's arms, lightly gripping his neck.

Mal steps out of the way, raising an eyebrow, "Miss me?"

Simon recovers from his shock, smiling wryly, "Next time Zoe's in charge. I really don't care if she kills me."

Mal's smile fades as he stares at River, and Simon seems to understand, grimacing as he shifts her in his arms. "Can you?" he asks.

The captain quickly closes the gap between them to catch her up, and she unwraps herself from her brother and fastens on to Mal.

For a moment, Simon is looking at the captain over his sister's shoulder. Only Mal doesn't see him, nor the awe and understanding on the doctor's face. The captain's eyes are closed in his own relief as he takes her slight weight completely into his arms, placing his hand on the back of River's head.

***

"I've always wanted to kill the Angel of Death" The one-eyed man grins.

The man with the scars looks annoyed, "It's just a name."

"Names are power, my friend."

***

Book closes the door and joins Chow in the battered cockpit, "We're in."

The shuttle gives a lurch as Mal lowers River gently onto a mismatched bench. She mumbles, "Ba-ba."

The captain smiles indulgently, kneeling next to her and brushing the hair from her brow. "What did they do to you?" he murmurs.

She struggles to focus her eyes on him, settling for the ceiling, and mutters faintly, "Got lost. The tide . . . I didn't mean to." Her eyes drift closed, still apologizing, "Didn't want . . . so tired, couldn't get out."

Simon opens a locker and watches, grabbing a blanket out as River continues to ramble, still holding valiantly onto consciousness.

"Had to float, and it was better. But I did, and I tried . . . I'm--"

Mal hushes her, "Never you mind that. It's okay now." He smiles slightly and straightens the torn hem of her skirt, a thoughtful look passing over his face as he rests a hand on her scabbed knees.

Simon stands next to Mal and drapes the blanket over his sister as he asks quietly, "Inara?"

Mal stirs from his thoughts, a black look passing briefly over his face before he replies evenly, "She's fine, I think."

Simon begins to speak softly, "I heard--"

Mal stands quickly as River's heavy eyes suddenly open wide in alarm, small hands clinging to Mal, "Don't make her go away!"

Mal sends a frantic look to Simon, "A little help here?" He tries to pry himself away.

River starts crying, "She can stay!"

Simon is at her side, and she looks at him, tears streaming fresh down her face, "We'll be good! Don't let him send her away!"

Mal steps back a safe distance, not knowing what to do.

Simon hushes her, "No one is going away, mei-mei. It's okay, we're safe now. We're going home."

***

Over the bright plains, the capital scraping the sky not too far away, the prison transport glides, gaining altitude sharply as it changes trajectory to leave the atmosphere.

The sun continues to beat down as the man missing an eye smiles balefully, "Got it."

***

Simon sits on the old and scraped floor, legs stretched out, his back to the bench River sleeps on. Across from him Mal's boots stick off the edge of the other bench, the captain stretched out, oblivious as he sleeps.

Book leaves the cockpit, glancing softly at his two sleeping passengers. "They have the right idea," he says quietly.

Simon looks thoughtful, "I don't think either of them has had any sleep in the past day and a half." He strokes River's hand absently.

"Part of the interrogations, but that's over now."

Simon looks at his sister, marks her sunken eyes, says almost to himself, "What did they do to her?" He glances up at Book expectantly.

The shepherd assures him, "They left her well alone. But the mind can be an incredible source of suffering if left to itself."

Simon looks at the sleeping captain, "Something's not right."

Book agrees grimly, "Not yet."

In the cockpit, Chow opens a channel, "This is prison transport five-zero-echo-two-four-nine, ready for intercept."

Simon watches Book, worry and lingering distrust barely concealed.

***

One-Eye watches the radar as the moving blip reaches the center.

The other man waits, finger held steady above the trigger of the surface-to-air missile.

The blip reaches the core.

"Now."

***

"We've been targeted," Chow announces offhandedly, maintaining his course.

Simon looks sharply at the cockpit, then back to Book, alarmed.

***

High in the atmosphere, where the air is thin and the blue of sky begins to wash away, the prison transport flies steadily upwards to meet an inbound ship, still far off in the black of space.

Far below the plains recede, the capital merely a mar in the land that stretches out around it in the bright afternoon. The horizon wraps distantly below, curving away in all directions.

The transport begins to shudder as it fights to break from the gravity well. A black speck below glints and curves through the air below, drawing closer. As the blue fades to black, silently, the prison transport explodes.