The ship was dark and silent when Camille opened her eyes again. She groaned softly as she stretched; God, she hadn't even meant to fall asleep, let alone sleep twelve hours.
She rolled onto her side and slid out of bed. She was hungry--starving--and sore. The stitches in her side were burning like fire. For the umpteenth million time, Camille roundly cursed the Alliance, Garrison, and the ben tian sheng de yi rou who'd come up with a mix of chemicals that'd fix her brain yet interact badly with most, if not all, pain killers.
Her monitor buzzed softly. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her medicine out of its hiding place. It wasn't an emergency like it had been last night, although normally she didn't need her medicine every day anymore. The monitor had been doing it's job perfectly, teaching her blood how to make the correct chemical mix to keep her stable. But the blood transfusion had been too much for it to handle, hence the needed dose.
Not to mention she was completely off anything resembling a normal schedule. That had to stop. No matter what, she was up at six hundred tomorrow and doing laps. If she couldn't run, then she'd walk, but she had to get active and have something to do or else she'd have to medicate herself every day.
Doing her best to stay quiet, she slid open the door to her room and stepped into the silent hall. She could hear Simon snoring softly in his room and River tossing and turning in hers. She hesitated, considering going in to visit River and unburden her soul. Or, she could go into Simon's and see if he was pale all over. Both options sounded appealing.
But, she was good and chose the one that would get her in the least amount of trouble. She went to the galley to get something to eat.
"Hello," a voice greeted her softly when she entered.
Camille stopped, heart thudding. "Captain Reynolds. I didn't know anyone was up."
Mal was stretched across a couch at the far end of the dining room with his socked feet propped on the arm and a book resting on his chest. He had his head lifted and he was looking at Camille with an expression of lazy interest and quiet amusement.
Unaccountably flustered, Camille raised her hand to her hair and tried to comb it down; she could feel how tangled and disarrayed it was from sleeping, and when she glanced down, she saw her clothes were disheveled as well. "Am I allowed to be here?"
"Course. Part of what you're payin' for is the right to eat." He gestured to the galley and picked his book back up.
There was still some fresh food, and something that looked like stew in a pot on the stove. Camille heated it up while she cut a thick slice of bread off a staling loaf. To this, she added an apple and a cup of tea, and she had herself a meal. Before she started eating, she washed the now empty pot out and found a tray; no reason to stay at the table alone, she figured. She might as well eat with company.
"Mind if I join you?" she asked, sinking onto the arm of the couch. Carefully, she balanced the tray on her knees and started eating.
"Sure." He sat up, pulling his legs closer to him. "You can even sit on the couch proper like," Mal added, looking at Camille's legs from under his eyelashes.
"Thanks." She slid onto the couch, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs as she did. Currently, she was wearing a loose top and flowing short skirt that made her look more delicate than she usual allowed herself to seem. It wasn't her favorite outfit by any means, but it'd seemed to fit in with the abused girl act she was playing
She had a feeling, though, that she was going to drop that act soon. What with River being there, drawing Camille out of the role, it didn't make sense to stay in something so contrary to her personality. A role was only good if she didn't have to think too much about how she was going to go about it. River was too distracting and kept dragging her back into what she really was when Camille was supposed to let those around her mold her into what she was supposed to be.
"So," Camille said after inhaling half the bowl. "What's keeping you up?"
"Things."
"Things?"
He shrugged and said, "The usual things that keep a body up at night."
"I take it you don't sleep a lot."
Mal nodded, frowned, then shook his head. "Um, yes, I often have nights where I can't sleep."
"Me too." She bit into the bread and chewed thoughtfully. "I mean, if it ain't the dreams then it's just the ...
"Blackness," they said together.
"Yeah." Camille shot him a smile that didn't feel real and took another bite of her bread. "Whatcha reading?"
"Stories about Earth-that-Was. 'Bout ranches and cowboys and the like."
Camille nodded, thinking about his dream from last night. Mal definitely seemed like the cowboy-type, the good kind. The one rough on the edges, but with a heart of gold. Reckless but loyal. The kind of person you wanted on your side.
"You ever been on ranch?" she asked.
"Grew up on one," he said slowly. "My momma owned a ranch on Shadow. You?"
She sighed, mentally berating herself. Still, she'd brought this on herself, really. And then walked right into the question. "I have," she said after a moment of deliberation. "Before the war." Appetite gone, she put the tray on the floor and sat back.
"You was just a kid then," Mal said, like that meant she had no right to remember anything bad about that time.
"When I was growin' up or durin' the war?"
"Both."
"My family lived in the Core until I was about... ten? That's when the Unification push started. My daddy pulled up stakes, moved us out to a ranch on the boarder planets. And then..." She bit her tongue hard, furious at herself. What the hell was she planning on doing? Tell him how her father had left to fight with the brown coats and her mother had gotten kicked in a head by one of the bulls and died? How the Alliance had taken her from the ranch hands who were taking care of her and treated her like their own personal lab rat? How she didn't know she was an orphan until three years later when Garrison liberated her and she learned about Serenity Valley?
She never talked about it. She never even thought about it. And now, not fifteen minutes alone with this man, and she was doing both.
"Camille?"
She pushed her bangs off her forehead. "I don't talk about this much. Ever. I prefer my past stay in my past."
Mal nodded. "I know whatcha mean. I don't talk about myself much either. In fact, so far as I can remember, I only ever told on other person about where I grew up on this ship, and she were a passenger, too." There was a sudden uneasiness in Mal's voice, and his eyes turned suspicious.
She stood and took her dishes back to the sink. She didn't know why he was suddenly so uneasy, but she was pretty sure that it didn't have as much to do with her as whoever it was that he told all this in the past. "Funny how you can go for years not talkin' 'bout something, only to have it all come rushing back when you meet someone new."
"Why do you suppose that happens?" he asked, sounding guarded.
"Well, different reasons I suppose. Suppose there's sometimes that, wherever you been living, there ain't anyone you can talk to about it. So, when there's someone new, one gets the urge to confess."
"I've got a shepherd on board ifin I never get that urge."
"Right," she drawled, walking back to the couch. There was a deck of cards on the table that she grabbed and shuffled them idly. "Because you're exactly the type to bare your soul to a religious man."
Mal gave her something that was a smile but wasn't, like he was trying hard not to show that he was amused. She wondered who the passenger he'd told his past to was, and what she--or he'd--done to him. And, of course, if Camille resembled that person at all.
"Well, maybe your right. Maybe I'm not the type, but then, I'm not the type to talk much about myself, neither."
"Well, maybe I'm just lulling you into a false sense of security," Camille said flirtatiously, dealing the cards.
He leaned forward to take his, but didn't pull back. "And to what purpose would you be doin' that?"
She lowered her eyelashes and let the tip of her tongue touch her bottom lip. "Why, Captain, a girl never reveals her reasons." Bad hand. Go shi.
A quick flick of her wrist revealed the orange as the tall card.
"You ain't after somthin' of mine, is you?" More suspicious than playful; she better back off.
She shrugged. "Well, if I am, it ain't nothing you'd be unwilling to give up by the time I got it, believe you me."
"Oh, is that how it is?" He relaxed every so slightly. "And what makes you think I'd ever willingly give anything up to you?" Mal put down two cards.
"Ouch," Camille said, laughing as she gave him his new cards. She took one for herself and picked up the tall card. "Am I all that unpersuasive?"
"I'm just saying that a gentleman like me don't give nothin' up easily." He laid down his hand.
Damn. "Fold." Then, as he took the deck and shuffled, she replied, "Seems to me that you don't know much about me. I've got a lot of ways to persuade a fella to give me what I want." She looked at him through her eyelashes.
"Maybe." Still shuffling, he allowed his eyes to meander down her body before answering, "But maybe you ain't never come up against a fella like me, neither." He dealt the cards.
"One fella's just like another in my opinion," Camille said, looking at her hand. It was the worst hand ever.
Mal set his cards down. "No, we ain't."
She could count cards, why wasn't she? Camille didn't lost, she...
The air around her changed, darkening and growing colder. Surprised, Camille lookd up from her hand.
Mal's face was like stone, his eyes flinty hard.
Obviously she'd missed a step somewhere.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "We ain't all the same," Mal said flatly. "All men, we ain't. Some of us are decent folk, capable of treating others... women... people they love right. With respect."
Oh, tamade, how could she have been so stupid? "Captain..."
"Look, you got dealt a bad hand with your boyfriend. Maybe more than the one, I don't know what your life's been like. But just because you've run into a few bad guy, don't mean we're all cut the same or nothing."
"I know," Camille said, looking away from the intensity of his eyes. "Cap... Mal, I know all men aren't the same. That'd be just like sayin' all women are the same, or all stars or all ships. I was just teasing you, and I wasn't thinking."
"It wasn't funny."
Now she did look at him. "I'm sorry." Tentatively, Camille put her hand on his knee. "I didn't mean to insult your honor."
He just flashed a close-lipped smile. "It's fine. Cards?"
Fantastic. Way to ruin the evening, Camille, she mentally berated herself. She placed three cards down disgustedly; her replacement three weren't any better.
"Ha!" Mal crowed, looking at his hand.
"Worst poker face ever," Camille said, folding. She threw her cards down.
"I'm on a roll," Mal said, flashing his cards as if to rub her face in the fact she was doing poorly. "We should be playing for something."
"What do you usually play for?" She kept a close eye on the cards as he shuffled, trying to keep track. Losing was not an option; she had to win. "Money?"
"Chores, mostly. But since you ain't got to do no chores..."
"I want to." She took her hand and glanced at him. Go shi! "I go pretty darn crazy when I ain't doing anything. I'll wash dishes, cook, or whatever."
"That's real fine of you," Mal said. "Cards?"
She rolled her eyes and put three of her cards down. The plum card was tall, and she grabbed that. Mal dealt her two bum.
"I don't believe this," she sighed, folding yet again. "Are you giving me bad cards on purpose?"
He laughed and shook his head. "I'm just lucky tonight, that's all. Look, I'll shuffle them real good this time."
"Thank you."
Mal shuffled again, eyes on the cards. "Can I asked you something?"
"Sure."
"What's goin' on between you and River?" He asked all casual, still shuffling the round cards in his hands, fingers dexterously sliding them in and out of each other.
Camille watched his fingers, marveling at their masculine grace. "River? We're friends."
"And that's all."
She blinked and raised her eyes to his face. He was still studiously not looking at her.
"Of course," Camille said. "She's with Kaylee. And I wouldn't try to come between two people I barely know."
"You just seem awful close awful fast."
"Well. I guess I... I sort of a connection with River. Like we're on the same frequency or something."
Now he did look at her, but through his lashes again, looking almost coy. "You do realize that she's got... problems, right? Mentally."
"You'd have to be blind not to," Camille responded. "But she's smart. And fascinating."
"You're smart too, ain't you?"
There was a trap here, somewhere. She didn't quite know what he was trying to do, but something was falling apart. Oh, all right. She knew what it was. Her story was falling apart because of River's presence, and Mal was beginning to see that something didn't add up. And, so, he was poking at it, trying to prod at the cracks and watch it unfold.
"You gonna deal those cards or keep playing with them?"
He nodded and dealt without a word, but his smile and the way he met her eyes told her that he hadn't missed her deflection. And she knew without a doubt that Mal was going to keep poking and prying until he got the story to unravel.
Which just meant that, tonight, Camille was going to have to weave a new story, this one tight enough that no matter how he tried, he'd never get to come undone.
"I don't know if I trust her," Zoe said, frowning at the ceiling.
"Not unusual for you." Wash was sleepy. Sated. And not in the mood to talk about their passenger. Not right now.
"Did you see her eyes when she was lookin' at Mal earlier?"
"Like she just saw her first planet from space." He rubbed his face. "I also saw the way she looked at you and Inara. So she's attracted to him. She's attracted to you and Inara, too, and that don't worry me." He rolled over and slung an arm across her stomach. "Or should I be worried."
Zoe smacked him lightly on the back of the head. "What was with her reaction to Jayne."
"Have you smelled him?"
"Wash, be serious."
He sighed. "Fine. You want me to say it, fine. She reminds me of River."
"Me, too."
"What's the problem, then. We like River."
"River's family."
He kissed the dip where Zoe's collar bone met and said, "We'll keep an eye on her. Bur really, Zoe, Camille might not be so bad. I mean, did you see the way Mal looked at her?"
Zoe frowned and ran her fingers through his hair. "Yes, I did," she said dourly. "And that's what worries me."
Mal frowned and leaned against the railing of the deck surrounding the cargo hold. They were about a day away from Dyton Colony. Wash was trying to wave their contact, but as yet there'd been no response. Mal wasn't really surprised; Dyton Colony had the shoddiest technologies and nothing almost every worked they way they was supposed to. He weren't really worried, neither. Despite Dyton being a haven for ex-cons, their cargo was legit. Some medical supplies they was short on, and a buncha rations on account of a drought that wiped out over half their crops.
So, for once, the job weren't the problem. The problem was the pretty new passenger they'd picked up on Persephone. The one with the big cut on her stomach and the eyes full of sadness. The one who'd played the abuse card and wormed her way right through Mal's suspicions so that he took her story at face value.
A story that, the more he thought about it, she hadn't told him at all. He'd told it to himself based off cues and suggestions from her and Camille, well, she'd mostly agreed with him.
He was probably being paranoid, but being paranoid had never led him wrong in the past. In fact, when he wasn't paranoid was when he go himself into trouble, like with Saffron. He'd just taken everything she'd said at face value and almost lost his ship in the process.
Camille, though, didn't strike him as the ruthless type. Not like Saffron had been. Yeah, she was hiding something, but she was also keepin' to herself mostly, and keepin' herself outta the way. Saffron had been all over him like flies on honey, trying to get what she wanted. Camille was ... normal. After she'd lost six rounds of cards the other night, she'd finally given up and gone to bed. That morning, she'd joined the crew for breakfast, talking politely, deflected Jayne's crudity, and spent a lot of time throwing glances at both him and Inara. After, she'd offered to wash dishes and then help Simon organize something in the infirmary. That afternoon, she'd played checkers with River--a series of games that were so fierce and competitive that, in the end, both Kaylee and Simon literally had to take the board and drag them away.
Later, she'd spent some time in the cockpit with Wash, peppering him with questions about flight, something that put Mal on edge, so he'd stayed with them, watching her narrowly. She helped Book make dinner, swept the dining room, and was generally so well behaved and pleasant that, by the end of her third day on board, Mal was havin' a hard time remembering that she weren't actually on his crew.
She was a good girl. Beautiful, too. If Mal were any less than a gentleman, he'd be mighty tempted...
He chased that thought away quickly and leaned harder against the railing. It bit into his skin, focusing his mind.
"Morning, Captain," Simon said, coming up beside him.
"Morning, Doc." He nodded down at Camille and River, who were in the center of the cargo area. "What do you suppose they're doing?"
Simon shrugged as he sipped coffee from the mug he was holding. "Camille said that it's called Ti Chi. It's an ancient form of meditation and exercise that originated on Earth-that-Was. Last night, she told me that she was going crazy from not moving." He smiled and shook his head. "She wanted me to sign off on her, let her be more active than she's been. I told her moderate exercise only."
"She was running laps earlier. Didn't look moderate to me."
"How long have you been watching her, Captain?" Simon asked, sounding surprised, glancing at him. There was an expression on his face Mal didn't like.
"Don't rightly know. A while, I guess." He glanced back down at the girls. "Where'd River learn how to do that?" They were moving in perfect unison, both seemingly lost in the movements.
"Um, as far as I know, from Camille. River picks up on things quickly." But he frowned as he watched them.
"Uh-huh. And how does a girl from nowhere who's seen next to nothin' pick up on an ancient form of martial arts from Earth-that-Was?"
"I don't know. Why don't you just ask her?"
Mal frowned and rubbed his chin. "She'd just give me a buncha go shi about it instead of a straight answer."
"How do you know? She might just surprise you."
"That's what I'm afraid of. Don't much like surprises, prefer to have all the information up front. I've learned from experience that what you don't know can kill you."
Simon groaned and rolled his eyes. "Is this about her being some kind of spy again? Or a criminal out to steal Serenity? Or an assassin?"
"All I'm saying is that something ain't right about that girl. She lied to us."
"You have no proof of that."
"Maybe not, but I've got my gut. And it ain't never wrong."
Simon snorted. "Right. Because you're choices have never gotten this crew in trouble before," he said pointedly. He turned to Malcolm, arms crossed over his chest. "Do you want to know what I think this is about?"
"No."
"I think," he said, acting like he hadn't heard Malcolm, "that this is the same reason we never got together. You're making excuses."
"Oh, wo de ma," he groaned, dropping his head to his arms.
"You use every excuse you can so you don't have to get close to anyone, Mal. With me, it was the Alliance and River..."
"You're crew, too," Mal said, not lifting his head.
"Ah, yes, how could I forget that?" he asked wryly. "Not to mention Inara."
"I don't like complications, Simon. You're complicated." He lifted his head. "It wouldn't have worked, neither."
Simon nodded. "I'm not bitter, Mal. I'm just saying that... it's a pattern with you. Any time anyone you find attractive comes into your sphere, you start coming up with excuses why it can't be. When was the last time you had sex, anyway? Nadine?"
Yes. But Mal wasn't about to admit that. "I ain't attracted to her. She's a passenger with a secret, nothing more."
"And you haven't taken your eyes off her for three straight days," he said with a lopsided smile. "You follow her every movement, don't think I haven't noticed. No secret is worth that much scrutiny."
"Maybe, maybe not." He glanced at Simon. "You like her so much, why ain't you making a move?"
Simon shook his head and turned back. "For one thing, she's a patient and it'd be unethical. For another... there's something fragile about her that reminds me too much of River. It's disturbing. And, finally, I can't be sure that, if I did make a move, as you say, it won't put my captain into a funk. I'd prefer not to have to deal with that."
"Simon..."
"Mal," Simon said in a tone that didn't allow man to say a word. Those eyes tuned to him again, and killed the protest in Mal's throat.
He exhaled slowly and took Simon's coffee from him. Taking a good sized gulp, he glanced back down at Camille.
Camille and River moved into one last, slow pose. They held it for the same number of beats before falling out and turning to one another. Their faces were flush and held identical expressions of peace on them.
"I like that," Mal heard River said softly. He frowned and leaned forward. There was a tone in River's voice that he'd never heard before and couldn't quite put his finger on. But it were something he'd never heard in River before, something very... adult and creepifying.
"Yeah," Camille answered, and, at the sound of her voice, all the blood in Mal's body went south. "I always feel like a completely different person after doing that. Much more centered and alive."
Wu de tian ah. Next to him, Simon cleared his throat and shifted to put some space between them. A quick glance showed that Simon's cheeks were a deep red, telling Mal that it wasn't all in his imagination.
It was sex. That's what had touched River's voice and flooded through Camille's words and movements. At least River still sounded young and innocent enough for it to only be a mild discomfort, but Camille...
Camille's voice brought to mind images of sweat flushed skin, rumpled sheets, and heavy-lidded satisfaction. The look on her face right now was sleepy, sated, and relaxed, like a cat who'd had a whole bowl of cream. It was obscene.
"I want to do it again," River said, eyes fluttering.
"River!" Simon snapped sharply. He sounded much like he did the first few days after he'd caught River and Kaylee in a liplock inside of River's room. Mal had thought Simon had been protective of his sister before, but proof of the girl's womanhood pushed him into overdrive.
River looked up and smiled. "Simon. Did you see?"
"I did." He pulled away from the railing and clambered down the stairs. "And now, you need your medicine, and then we should get breakfast."
River frowned at her brother. "You're upset."
"I was talking with the captain, mei mei, that's all." The implication was clear; Mal was a bad, bad man.
Oh, sure, Mal thought sardonically. Blame him. But he didn't contradict the boy, simply followed him down the stairs, his eyes on Camille. "That was right interesting what you just did there," he said as Simon protectively led River off to the infirmary.
Camille gave him one of those half-smiles she was so good at, like she already knew everything he weren't saying. She propped one leg on a box straight out from her hip and slowly lowered herself over it, taking hold of her foot. "Thank you."
"The doc tells me it's some kind of somethin' from Earth-that-Was. What exactly did you say you did on Persephone?"
"I didn't, actually." She rose gracefully then stretched out over her leg sideways, eyes on Mal. "Would you believe that I was a dancer?"
Well, that would certainly explain why she moved like River. "I might believe you more if you didn't answer me with a question. All I want is a straight answer."
She rose again and dropped her leg. "I did dance on Persephone. In a bar."
He felt a little warm as he realized what sort of dancing she'd probably done. And how much he might like to see her do it. "Uh-huh. So, you were a dancer and learned that exercise thing where?"
"My boss," Camille said.
"Your boss?"
Gracefully, she leaned against the boxes, arms crossed over her chest. "Yes, my boss."
"And your boss, who teaches you ancient stuff from Earth-that-Was, didn't have a problem with lettin' one of his dancers come in all bruised?"
She took a deep breath. "I didn't have a boyfriend."
It should have been more surprising, but it wasn't. What was surprising was that she was admitting it to him. "You didn't."
"No."
"Then who stabbed you?"
"It happened on a job."
His eyebrows hit his hairline. "On a job. Dancing or somethin' else?"
"I'm not a whore, if that's what you're implying," she said evenly. Everything about her was very deliberate and confident, like she was taking off a mask or something. "And, no, it wasn't dancing."
"Then what was it?"
"Let's just say that, besides dancin', I'm a bit like yourself. I look for jobs all over and take thems that don't go against my moral code. This one happened to go south."
"What was the job?"
Her shoulder raised and lowered briefly before she said, "You know that admiral that Inara had the appointment with? The one who died right after she left?"
"Yeah."
"He was a bad man. Someone wanted to teach him a lesson. When he didn't learn the lesson, they wanted him out of the way so he couldn't hurt no one anymore. That was my job."
Mal frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. Assassins and bounty hunters made him uncomfortable and cross; they profited off the lives and deaths of others and weren't too different from slavers in his mind. But, at the same time, he knew the rumors about this admiral. 'Bout how he conned a bunch of good, simple folk into selling off all they had to move out to a newly terraformed colony, only to have the promises of a good life fall through. Rumor was something near two hundred people died that first year, and it weren't getting much better.
"Reports say the admiral died of natural causes," he pointed out.
Camille nodded. "Then I did my job, right. And now that he's gone, someone with an actual conscious is stepping up to help all those people the admiral condemned on that colony." She stepped closer to Mal. "It ain't always killing, Captain. It's just whatever work I can that ain't gonna cause me grief."
He still didn't like it. Didn't like people killing people for money, even if them people was bad. But, truth was, no one was ever going to make anyone in the Alliance pay for their misdeeds. And it weren't like everyone he met was gonna approve of what he did. Simon and Inara barely did, and yet, they both stuck around.
"Why didn't just tell me this in the first place?" he asked. "I don't much like being lied to."
"Ah, well. I needed a quick flight off and you seemed the best choice. Plus, I was in pain and all distracted-like. It was easier to go along with what you was already thinking then try to explain the truth. And, once I was on, I figured it was easy to keep on going with it, 'till I couldn't no more."
"If you put any of my crew in danger, your gone. No questions asked. And if you do something I don't approve of..."
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
"Good." He turned to walk away, when something occurred to him. "You ever work for the Alliance?"
Camille snorted and shook her head. "I only work for thems that have consciences. Never found anyone in the Alliance with one of those."
"Well, then, maybe you are a girl after my own heart," he found himself saying.
"Yes, Captain," she answered, voice like sex once again. "Just maybe I am."