Matthew Mitchell Reynolds
This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole
ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a
court of law.
To borrow a phrase: Firefly no mine......no money, no sue, please?
"Doc!" Mal yelled as they bounded back into the ship. The nearly unconscious woman lay in the Captain's arms, murmuring incoherently. The Doc emerged from the infirmary, his sister trailing after him.
"What happened?" he demanded, rushing along with Mal, who laid her out on the bed. The other members of the crew were gathering just outside the door, trying to see who the Captain had brought back with him.
"Looked like an Alliance attack" Zoë answered the Doc's question. He was hurrying around, sticking needles in her arms and using his tools of the trade to determine how badly she was hurt.
The sound of squawking reverberated against the bare walls of the cargo hold and Kaylee squeaked.
"Cap'n!" she called, "There's a bird in here!" Mal could hear the thing flapping around wildly but he didn't care.
"Leave it be!" he ordered, "It's hers!" He was standing out of the way, though he was itching to touch her. He'd once vowed he'd never see her in this condition, and he was finding it all hard to believe. Not that he was letting on. Zoë was the only one who could tell he was feeling anything at the moment.
"Who is she?" Simon asked, still working, now on her head. Zoë and Mal exchanged another look, but neither answered.
"Wash? I got a feelin we should get off this planet" Mal said instead.
"Right" Wash answered and headed up to the cockpit.
"Kaylee, I want you to give him everything we got" Mal added.
"You got it, Cap'n" the girl replied and headed off to the engine room.
"I'll get the raven" Zoë said and the Captain could hear her calling to the creature, trying to get it to calm down. Jayne wandered off to restow their unsold cargo, again, and the Shepard moved into the infirmary to offer the Doctor his assistance.
"Mal, is there anything I can do?" Inara asked quietly, not oblivious to the woman's importance.
"Two by two, hands of blue" River murmured beside her. Both Mal and Inara gave her quizzical looks. The poor girl looked terrified and she was staring at the patient.
"Two by two, hands of blue" she repeated, then looked up at Mal, "They took him, too" Mal didn't know what she was talking about.
"Just...take care of her, huh?" he answered Inara, pushing River towards her. Inara took the girl by the hand and led her away. Zoë had finally convinced the raven to calm down a bit and rejoined him just outside the infirmary.
"I can't believe it's her, sir" she said quietly. Mal stood there, watching the Doc work on her with the assistance of the Shepard and his mind drifted back....
One Year before the Battle of Serenity
The newly promoted young Lt. Malcolm Renyolds followed the Captain through the frontline headquarters toward his new assignment. The night was acrid with smoke and the young man's stomach lurched as they passed the medical tent. The niceties of life were few and far between, but morale on the side of the Brown Coats was high. Despite immediate appearances, it looked like they were going to win this war.
And Malcolm Renyolds was on his way to help protect one of their greatest assets. Morgan Mitchell was a strategic genius. He had taken a rag tag handful of ranchers and miners and used them to beat back the mongrel that was the Alliance. And he had specifically requested Malcolm for his security detail!
The Captain led him to a double-room tent in the corner of the group of tents that housed the brightest minds in the Brown Coat camp. He flipped back the panel and allowed the Lieutenant to enter first.
Before Malcolm could make even a swift glance around the tent, something loud and black flew into his face. It was a bird, flapping its wings and clawing at his eyes.
"Raven!" a strong, though obviously female voice, commanded and the bird swooped off to its perch. The Captain followed the Lieutenant and stood at attention. Malcolm couldn't take his eyes off the young woman...well, really more of a girl. She couldn't have been more than 18 years old. She was dressed just as he was himself: brown coat and combat boots, though there was no sign of a rank anywhere on her uniform. There was nothing extraordinary about her physically. Never the less, she managed to give off a "larger than life" vibe. She had piercing green eyes, red- highlighted brown hair held back in a tight braid and full, but hard lips. Malcolm knew she was beautiful, but for some reason he instantly disliked her.
"Lt. Malcolm Renyolds, this is General Morgan Mitchell. You're under her command now, you take orders from her and from her only" Malcolm could only stare. Surely the Captain was joking? But the other man left him then, and never did return.
"Malcolm Renyolds" the girl repeated, and started rolling up one of the many maps spread across her desk.
"Sorry about Raven" she continued, while Malcolm was still trying to come to grips, "It doesn't like men very much. Two boys were in the process of ripping its tail feathers out when I came upon them and rescued it. Follows me everywhere, ever since. Real strong flier, despite the handicap" Malcolm took in hardly any of this story. This little girl was the great Morgan Mitchell? He, a seasoned soldier, was expected to take orders from a girl probably almost ten years younger than himself? Maybe someone was playing a trick on him. Maybe the real Morgan Mitchell was going to walk through that door any minute now...
"Lt. Renyolds!" Mitchell barked harshly and Malcolm's military training asserted itself. His hand snapped into a salute and he pushed his misgivings away. Mitchell shook her head and started rolling another map.
"I realize I'm not what you expected" she said, "The details are kept under wraps as much as possible. The damn Alliance would love to kidnap me. They've tried before, and they'll try again. That's not why you're here"
"Sir?" Malcolm asked, confused. Mitchell stopped her work and faced him.
"I didn't hand pick you for security detail. I'm not so self involved to waste good men on myself. I picked you to be part of my personal special opps team. We run enemy territory missions. Rescue much of the time"
"Rescue?" Mal repeated.
"I don't leave my men behind, Lt. Renyolds. Ever." She said this very firmly, and Malcolm suddenly had the idea that she was responsible for that particular Brown Coat standard. At this point, the panel leading to the second part of the tent moved aside and another woman joined them. Unlike Mitchell, Malcolm immediately took a liking to this woman. She was tall, dark and dangerous. She had entered so quietly that had Malcolm had his eyes closed, he never would've known she was there. She had dirt and blood smeared on her face and looked to be just about his age.
Mitchell smiled fondly at her.
"This is Zoë. Zoë, meet Lt. Malcolm Renyolds" The two soldiers merely nodded at each other.
"Zoë will be part of your team. She's the best soldier this side of the war, so I suggest you make good use of her knowledge and skills" Mitchell told him. Malcolm didn't have a hard time believe that, at least.
"Now, you're first mission..."
"Sir?" Zoë said again. The Doc was working on washing the woman's hair, and Shepard Book was praying. The Captain had been staring for nearly an hour. Finally, he shook out of it.
"It's her" he said. He turned to finally walk away.
"Captain?" Simon called. Mal turned back. Morgan had the Doctor by the wrist. He hurried to her side.
"The drugs must be wearing off" Simon said, surprised. Malcolm ignored him.
"Morgan?" he breathed. She turned her face toward him. Her eyes were just as green as they'd always been, but there was something there Mal had never seen before. Fear.
"They took him!" she croaked, "They took him! We...we have to find him, Mal!"
"Who, Morgan, who? They took who?" Malcolm demanded tenderly. What could they have done to terrify Morgan Mitchell, the fearless Morgan Mitchell?
"Matthew! Matthew, they took Matthew!" she answered. An inkling entered Mal's head.
"Matthew?" he asked quietly. Morgan was losing consciousness again, but she stared up at him for a second more.
"Our son"
To borrow a phrase: Firefly no mine......no money, no sue, please?
"Doc!" Mal yelled as they bounded back into the ship. The nearly unconscious woman lay in the Captain's arms, murmuring incoherently. The Doc emerged from the infirmary, his sister trailing after him.
"What happened?" he demanded, rushing along with Mal, who laid her out on the bed. The other members of the crew were gathering just outside the door, trying to see who the Captain had brought back with him.
"Looked like an Alliance attack" Zoë answered the Doc's question. He was hurrying around, sticking needles in her arms and using his tools of the trade to determine how badly she was hurt.
The sound of squawking reverberated against the bare walls of the cargo hold and Kaylee squeaked.
"Cap'n!" she called, "There's a bird in here!" Mal could hear the thing flapping around wildly but he didn't care.
"Leave it be!" he ordered, "It's hers!" He was standing out of the way, though he was itching to touch her. He'd once vowed he'd never see her in this condition, and he was finding it all hard to believe. Not that he was letting on. Zoë was the only one who could tell he was feeling anything at the moment.
"Who is she?" Simon asked, still working, now on her head. Zoë and Mal exchanged another look, but neither answered.
"Wash? I got a feelin we should get off this planet" Mal said instead.
"Right" Wash answered and headed up to the cockpit.
"Kaylee, I want you to give him everything we got" Mal added.
"You got it, Cap'n" the girl replied and headed off to the engine room.
"I'll get the raven" Zoë said and the Captain could hear her calling to the creature, trying to get it to calm down. Jayne wandered off to restow their unsold cargo, again, and the Shepard moved into the infirmary to offer the Doctor his assistance.
"Mal, is there anything I can do?" Inara asked quietly, not oblivious to the woman's importance.
"Two by two, hands of blue" River murmured beside her. Both Mal and Inara gave her quizzical looks. The poor girl looked terrified and she was staring at the patient.
"Two by two, hands of blue" she repeated, then looked up at Mal, "They took him, too" Mal didn't know what she was talking about.
"Just...take care of her, huh?" he answered Inara, pushing River towards her. Inara took the girl by the hand and led her away. Zoë had finally convinced the raven to calm down a bit and rejoined him just outside the infirmary.
"I can't believe it's her, sir" she said quietly. Mal stood there, watching the Doc work on her with the assistance of the Shepard and his mind drifted back....
One Year before the Battle of Serenity
The newly promoted young Lt. Malcolm Renyolds followed the Captain through the frontline headquarters toward his new assignment. The night was acrid with smoke and the young man's stomach lurched as they passed the medical tent. The niceties of life were few and far between, but morale on the side of the Brown Coats was high. Despite immediate appearances, it looked like they were going to win this war.
And Malcolm Renyolds was on his way to help protect one of their greatest assets. Morgan Mitchell was a strategic genius. He had taken a rag tag handful of ranchers and miners and used them to beat back the mongrel that was the Alliance. And he had specifically requested Malcolm for his security detail!
The Captain led him to a double-room tent in the corner of the group of tents that housed the brightest minds in the Brown Coat camp. He flipped back the panel and allowed the Lieutenant to enter first.
Before Malcolm could make even a swift glance around the tent, something loud and black flew into his face. It was a bird, flapping its wings and clawing at his eyes.
"Raven!" a strong, though obviously female voice, commanded and the bird swooped off to its perch. The Captain followed the Lieutenant and stood at attention. Malcolm couldn't take his eyes off the young woman...well, really more of a girl. She couldn't have been more than 18 years old. She was dressed just as he was himself: brown coat and combat boots, though there was no sign of a rank anywhere on her uniform. There was nothing extraordinary about her physically. Never the less, she managed to give off a "larger than life" vibe. She had piercing green eyes, red- highlighted brown hair held back in a tight braid and full, but hard lips. Malcolm knew she was beautiful, but for some reason he instantly disliked her.
"Lt. Malcolm Renyolds, this is General Morgan Mitchell. You're under her command now, you take orders from her and from her only" Malcolm could only stare. Surely the Captain was joking? But the other man left him then, and never did return.
"Malcolm Renyolds" the girl repeated, and started rolling up one of the many maps spread across her desk.
"Sorry about Raven" she continued, while Malcolm was still trying to come to grips, "It doesn't like men very much. Two boys were in the process of ripping its tail feathers out when I came upon them and rescued it. Follows me everywhere, ever since. Real strong flier, despite the handicap" Malcolm took in hardly any of this story. This little girl was the great Morgan Mitchell? He, a seasoned soldier, was expected to take orders from a girl probably almost ten years younger than himself? Maybe someone was playing a trick on him. Maybe the real Morgan Mitchell was going to walk through that door any minute now...
"Lt. Renyolds!" Mitchell barked harshly and Malcolm's military training asserted itself. His hand snapped into a salute and he pushed his misgivings away. Mitchell shook her head and started rolling another map.
"I realize I'm not what you expected" she said, "The details are kept under wraps as much as possible. The damn Alliance would love to kidnap me. They've tried before, and they'll try again. That's not why you're here"
"Sir?" Malcolm asked, confused. Mitchell stopped her work and faced him.
"I didn't hand pick you for security detail. I'm not so self involved to waste good men on myself. I picked you to be part of my personal special opps team. We run enemy territory missions. Rescue much of the time"
"Rescue?" Mal repeated.
"I don't leave my men behind, Lt. Renyolds. Ever." She said this very firmly, and Malcolm suddenly had the idea that she was responsible for that particular Brown Coat standard. At this point, the panel leading to the second part of the tent moved aside and another woman joined them. Unlike Mitchell, Malcolm immediately took a liking to this woman. She was tall, dark and dangerous. She had entered so quietly that had Malcolm had his eyes closed, he never would've known she was there. She had dirt and blood smeared on her face and looked to be just about his age.
Mitchell smiled fondly at her.
"This is Zoë. Zoë, meet Lt. Malcolm Renyolds" The two soldiers merely nodded at each other.
"Zoë will be part of your team. She's the best soldier this side of the war, so I suggest you make good use of her knowledge and skills" Mitchell told him. Malcolm didn't have a hard time believe that, at least.
"Now, you're first mission..."
"Sir?" Zoë said again. The Doc was working on washing the woman's hair, and Shepard Book was praying. The Captain had been staring for nearly an hour. Finally, he shook out of it.
"It's her" he said. He turned to finally walk away.
"Captain?" Simon called. Mal turned back. Morgan had the Doctor by the wrist. He hurried to her side.
"The drugs must be wearing off" Simon said, surprised. Malcolm ignored him.
"Morgan?" he breathed. She turned her face toward him. Her eyes were just as green as they'd always been, but there was something there Mal had never seen before. Fear.
"They took him!" she croaked, "They took him! We...we have to find him, Mal!"
"Who, Morgan, who? They took who?" Malcolm demanded tenderly. What could they have done to terrify Morgan Mitchell, the fearless Morgan Mitchell?
"Matthew! Matthew, they took Matthew!" she answered. An inkling entered Mal's head.
"Matthew?" he asked quietly. Morgan was losing consciousness again, but she stared up at him for a second more.
"Our son"