The next day passed much faster than Camille would have liked. After being woken by the giggles and leers from the crew, Camille and Mal had both been thrown into a whirlwind of activity. Over breakfast, they discussed everyone's roles for the heist. Afterwards, Camille and Mal walked through the layout of Rutledge's house, quizzing each other until the knew where every bathroom, ever alcove, and every hallway was. Camille's contact--Fredrick--had given them both a blueprint of the house as well as pictures. On the off chance Camille or Mal went blind before the party, they'd still be able to navigate successfully.
Not that Camille was planning on letting anyone go blind. But she did make them both walk around the hold, which she'd set up as close to the main hall and ballroom as she could, blindfolded.
Mal only crashed into two walls before he swore at her and refused to do it anymore.
Before Camille let him go, however, she forced him to learn two more dances. "We have to blend in," she'd insisted.
"The last thing I want is to blend in with a buncha limp-wristed, mealy mouthed purple-belly lovers," he'd snapped back.
"Do you want your big huge diamond or not?"
That shut him up.
The dress only needed a few final adjustments. Camille had cut the pattern a little crooked; costuming had always been her worst class back at base. She couldn't cut in a straight line to save her life. Luckily, Inara was terrific with a needle and thread and, although the dress didn't turn out exactly like the pattern showed, it was still elegant enough to pass in society and wouldn't get in Camille's way if she needed to climb down the side of the building or anything.
Hair and make-up were a little more complicated. Fredrick, who lived in the bolt hole on Beaumont, didn't have any red wigs, and the fabric matched her current color. However, she couldn't go to a party with her hairstyle; she'd stick out and be laughed at. Fancy Alliance women all had long hair.
Inara saved the day again, suggesting hair extensions. Fredrick had some blond hair at the bolt hole; Camille dyed it to match her hair and Inara helped to arrange it so it looked, if not natural, then at least tasteful. She borrowed make-up from Inara, too, just because she could, and, by nineteen thirty hours, Camille was bejeweled, coiffed, and painted so perfectly, she looked like she was a Companion.
Except for the weapons hidden underneath her dress, of course. Generally, Companion's were more welcoming in their choice of undergarments.
"Wow," was Mal's response when Camille emerged from Inara's shuttle.
"That's all you can say?" Kaylee protested. "She's beautiful!"
Mal looked Camille up and down, nodded and said again, "Wow."
Camille flushed, unable to stop her reaction. "You're pretty wow yourself," she replied, trying to remember not to lick her lips nervousness or hunger at the sight of Mal.
He stepped towards her and tentatively took her hand. "Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be. You guys?" She glanced at Zoe and Jayne, who were armed with both weapons and radios. They were both going to be positioned and hidden outside the house, ready to assist with escape if a quick one was needed. Wash was staying behind with Serenity's engines on and ready to go; Camille wanted to be able to leave the minute everyone was onboard.
"We ready," Zoe said. "You going on ahead now?"
Camille glanced at Mal, who nodded. "Inara, I thought you were goin' to the party, too," Mal said as he helped Camille put on her wrap. He looked up at Inara, who was still standing on the upper level.
Inara shook her head. "It turns out my client would rather meet me here tonight." She had a sort of mysterious smile on her face and she met Camille's eyes.
Mal glanced at Camille, then up at Inara. "I don't like this. You shoulda..."
"Frederick hired her," Camille broke in. She slipped her hand into Mal's and tugged at him. "I talked it over with both him and Inara and said I'd be more comfortable if they were both on the ship. Just in case."
"You think something is going to happen that we need them here?"
Camille frowned, tried to shake off the heavy feeling that'd settled in her stomach and said, "No. Of course not. It's just... speed is of the essence and all, and I want her here. And it might be good to have my contact on board."
"Why?"
"Can we just get a move-on?" Jayne broke in irritably. "If I'm gonna be sittin' around all night, at least let's do something."
"Yeah. Let's go." Gripping Mal's hand more tightly, she led him from the ship and into the cool night air.
As they walked along the streets that were just now coming alive with the night, Camille tried to pinpoint what was wrong. All day, as much as she'd tried to ignore it, she'd felt... off. For no reason, her monitor had gone off three times and her blood chemistry was still slightly lower than normal. And she was anxious. Sleeping with Mal on the couch had helped a little, but something was still wrong and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
If she was smart, she'd call this off. A psychic couldn't afford to ignore her feelings, and Camille was definitely ignoring hers. But River had seem to be fine, for the most part. A little distant and definitely dreamier than normal, but she didn't seem anxious or upset. So... maybe Camille was just being...
"What are you doing?" she exclaimed when Mal suddenly dragged her the bushes that lined the walkway to Rutledge's house.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath hot on her face. "I'm sorry, I have to..." And then he was kissing her.
Camille moaned softly and reached up to wind her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. His tongue breeched her mouth, twining with her own and his calloused palms rubbed up her spine, caressing the bare skin where the back dipped.
"God, you're so beautiful," Mal said. "What the hell are you doin' to me?"
She rose onto her toes, trying to follow his mouth and he pulled away. Her mind had expanded out of her skull, delving into his until it swirled around her, making her feel drunk.
"Mal." She kissed him, pressing her body into his, feeling his heat seep through her dress, warming her.
"Okay. Okay, we gotta stop." Mal straightened and tried to untangle himself from her.
"No. Please."
"Camille, we have a job. Two jobs. We can't just... mess around in the bushes."
Sanity penetrated her haze. She forced herself to think, rubbing her forehead, trying not to give into the feelings churning in her body that told her to jump him now.
She had a job to do. "Right. Right." Camille shook her head and breathed deeply. "All right. Let's get in there." She stretched and looked at him with a crooked smile. "If I'd've known all it would take to get you hot is to dress all pretty, I woulda done it weeks ago."
Returning her crooked smile, Mal stepped into her and put his hands on her waist. "It's different tonight. We're married, ain't we Mrs. ..."
"Lee," Camille reminded him. "And don't you know that properly married members of the Alliance don't sexually molest each other in public, Mr. Lee? Or ever, as far as I can tell."
"Yeah, I knew there was a reason I never wanted to be a part of society." He gently pulled a twig from her hair and tucked it into a pocket. Then, threading his arm through hers, Mal led Camille out of the bushes and into the party.
It was show time.
Last time he'd been to one of these shindigs, Mal had felt greener than a kid seeing the stars for the first time. Only he hadn't been impressed by the glitz and glamour, just... overwhelmed and turned off. This time, though, it was different. What with Camille dressing him, teaching him how to walk, and hanging off his arm like a jewel shining on plain leather strap, Mal felt not like he belonged, but like he blended in.
In other words, no one paid him any notice unless it was to compliment him on his wife.
She really was a chameleon, too. Everything about her was different here than on the ship. Her voice was muted so she talked like any lady here, and her grammar was more like the Tam's than his own. She moved like liquid, smiled demurely, and cast her eyes downwards any time anyone paid her any heed.
Truth be told, Mal was enjoying showing her off. She made it so easy, hanging off his arm like he was her protector or something, and smiling at him over the shoulder of the few men who asked her to dance. Camille fit in this world and because she did, she made him less conspicuous.
The necklace was paraded through on Mrs. Rutledge's neck about forty-five minutes into the part. The necklace itself was a silver rope; from it hung a huge, deep blue diamond shaped in a heart. The heart was surrounded by smaller diamonds that sparkled and shone in the lamplight. It was gaudy and ugly except for the color, but Tyber was right: it'd haul in a fortune.
"All right, they're puttin' it away," Camille said, returning to Mal's side. She'd been asked to dance by a man twice Mal's age who'd spent the entire time gazing down her top. Mal had wanted to kill him, but Camille had kept flicking secret smiles his way as reassurance.
"How long do we wait?" Still throwing dirty looks at the dirty old man, Mal put his arm around Camille's waist and pulled her to him.
"Fifteen minutes should do it." She looked up at him and smiled. "You remember the way?"
"Out that door, down the hall, up a flight of steps. Third door on the left. What I ain't clear on is how we're getting in there."
"Don't you trust me?"
"Dunno that I'd be here if I didn't."
Camille smiled tightly at him, then pat her hair. "Then watch for my signal." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then wend her way through the room to the buffet table. Mal watched as she put together a plate, smiling and flirting with the men in that area, blushing bashfully when a woman spoke to her.
He watched, trying to figure out what on earth she was doing when, just as she raised a whipped cream cover strawberry to her own berry-stained lips, she bumped into Rutledge himself.
The man grabbed her immediately, steadying her. Camille, who had a smudge of cream on her lip, said something to him. They fell into conversation, Camille at her flirty best, touching his arm, batting her eyelashes. She laughed softly, blushing, when he wiped the cream from her mouth and Mal just managed to stop himself from charging across the room.
But he didn't. Instead he watched as Camille convinced Rutledge to dance with her. He watched as they moved gracefully across the dance floor as they minutes ticked by and then, exactly fifteen minutes after the necklace had been put away, Camille suddenly went crashing to the ground.
Mal rushed across the floor to his "wife's" side. "You all right, darlin'?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she gasped, allowing both Rutledge and Mal hauled her to her feet. Camille immediately fell into Rutledge, crying out with pain.
"What is it, my dear?" Rutledge asked, all gentlemanly concern. He held her tenderly, gazing at her with more emotion than he'd even shown his wife.
A flush colored Camille's cheeks, and, looking embarrassed, she said, "I think I hurt my ankle." Turning to Mal, she pressed her cheek into his arm and said, "I'm so sorry."
"No, it's all right," he said, arms coming around her automatically. "I guess we should be going back to the hotel, then."
"No!" Camille protested, pulling back. "I'll be fine. I just need to sit down for awhile. Rest it a bit." She turned back to Rutledge and fixed him with a blue-eyed stare. "I don't suppose... I feel so embarrassed for falling like this in front of everyone, but I don't want to leave this lovely party. Is there anywhere..."
Rutledge nodded and took her hand to kiss it. "Of course there is, my dear. Come with me. You can sit in my library until you feel better." Tucking Camille's hand in the crook of his elbow as if Mal didn't exist, Rutledge led them out of the ballroom and down the hall. As Rutledge opened the door to the library, Mal glanced further down the hall and saw the flight of stairs they needed to get up to.
Hopefully, Rutledge didn't have some kind of elaborate security system. But Camille promised that she'd taken care of all that.
"Rest here, my dear." Rutledge settled Camille in a comfortable chair, then turned to Mal. "Can I send anything for you?"
"No, thanks, we'll be fine," Mal said. He held out his hand. "I appreciate this, sir. Seems like I'm always telling her to be careful, and she's always twisting those pretty little ankles of hers no matter what I say."
Rutledge laughed and glanced at Camille, who was caressing her "hurt" ankle. "Well, when you have such a delicate little flower, you must be prepared to care for it."
"And that I do."
Rutledge simply smiled tightly, bowed to Camille, and left.
"Sex is how you deal with everyone, isn't it?" Mal asked when the door was closed.
Camille shrugged and rose, smoothing her dress down. "It works. Come on."
The library was connected to three other rooms that led parallel to the hall. Camille led Mal through them, then out into the hall and up the flight of stairs. The room they needed to get into was locked, but Camille pulled an electronic key from her top; after pressing it into the lock and hitting a code, the door opened.
"And there's your necklace," Camille said, nodding at the necklace sitting in its display case. She crossed the room to the desk, pulling the jump drive out. "Don't touch it yet; I'm powering down the security system... now." Her fingers flew over the computer keyboard and, just as she said now, the lights around the necklace turned off.
Mal quickly grabbed it, replacing it with a mock up made of glass. It weren't a pretty or as big, but it weighed the same and the system was fooled. When the lights clicked back on a minute later, the alarm stayed silent.
"You ready?" he asked, coming behind her.
"Give me a minute." Camille's face was a mass of concentration as she set the computer up for download. The driver was in place, but she was typing in codes and stuff that Mal couldn't quite understand faster than his eyes could follow. Her bottom lip was caught in her teeth, lipstick now staining the pearly whites.
She hit enter then straightened. "Okay, it's downloading. Unzip me."
Mal handed her the necklace and unzipped the back of her dress. At the small of her back was a small, flesh-colored pouch made of an insulated, putty-like material. Camille had hidden her weapons from the scanners with the same materials, and now she was being turned into a human cargo hold. Carefully, Mal pulled the pouch open, then took the necklace and pressed it against her back. "Comfy?" he asked as he patted the putty onto her skin.
"Oh, yeah," she said wryly. "Wonderfully so."
He started to zip the dress back up and hesitated a moment. Then, before the last of her lower back was covered, Mal bent down and kissed her spine.
Camille shivered. "You're makin' a lot of promises here, Mal. You better deliver."
"Makin' a lotta money always puts me in an adventuring mood."
She turned and put her arms around his neck. "You consider sleepin' with me an adventure?"
Mal smiled. "Somethin' like that." And he bent down to kiss those tantalizing lips once again.
"Crime makes you amorous, don't it?" Camille said breathlessly when he released her.
"I guess it does, especially when my partner in crime is a pretty little thing."
"Simon not pretty enough for you?"
"Oh, he's pretty, sure, but he's prickly. And he gets nervous when doin' crime." Mal frowned, then said, "Actually, it is rather cute. Can't think why I ain't never kissed him out on a job."
Camille smiled at him before she turned back to the computer. "I shouldn't be complanin'; works out better for me that..." She stopped talking abruptly, her body turning to stone.
"Camille?"
For a long moment, she said nothing, just stood there, her head cocked in an eerier imitation of River, fingers frozen over the keyboard, somehow not even in the room. And then, just as Mal was starting to get really worried, a facade seemed to crack and even though she was back, Mal got the sense that the girl in the room with him wasn't the Camille he'd been flirting with the moment before.
"They're here," she whispered in an icy cold tone that sliced through Mal. Then, louder and with a lot more panic, "They're here. Aiya huai le! We've gotta go." She hit a few buttons on the computer and swore again. Then, pressing one of her earrings, the one doubling as her comlink, she said, "Zoe, Jayne, we're under attack. Meet me and Mal at the end of the street, guns on. Tell Wash to fire up Serenity; we've got to take off as soon as we get back."
"Camille..." Mal started, but Camille wasn't listening.
Camille yanked the drive from the computer and stuffed it down her top. "Tell Book and Simon to arm up, too. They might go for the ship." Then, grabbing Mal's hand, Camille pulled a gun from its holster on her thigh and shot open the window. "Let's go."
"What's goin' on?" he demanded, running with her to the broken window. He tried to pull her back so he hit the cracked glass first, but the damn girl ran into it full speed, smashing through the glass with her left shoulder.
Glass shattered around her, ripping into her skin and dress, giving rise to rivers of blood down her face and arms, but it didn't phase her in the least. She burst onto the balcony above the garden, determination making her face hard.
"What the hell," Mal swore, looking at the scene below.
The party guests who just moments before had been talking and laughing were now fleeing from the house, screaming and shouting. A few fell to their knees, hands at their ears, bodies convulsing. When Mal looked closely, he could see that most of the ones that fell were the ones who'd been dancin' with Camille earlier.
"Tamade!" Camille whirled to Mal, hiking up her skirt, baring the putty holding a knife on her thigh. She ripped a couple small pieces off and dropped her skirt once more. "Do you trust me?" she asked, rolling the pieces between her fingers and stepping up to him.
Looking down into her blood-stained face pale in the moonlight with eyes so dark and determined it seemed he'd never seen her before, Mal found himself nodding wordlessly.
Camille rose on her toes and stuffed the putty into his ears. The noise around him dimmed to nothingness. He saw Camille's lips moving.
Frowning, he pointed to his ears.
She rolled her eyes and gestured at his shirt collar, where he'd hidden his com-button. It must have turned off at some point; no wonder he hadn't heard Zoe respond.
"Follow me. We've got to get around to the side."
"What's going on?" he asked.
Furious, Camille shushed him and pointed at his mike; apparently, he'd shouted the last. She didn't answer, though, just slid past him and started leading him away from the panicked party crowd.
They ran over the balcony that surrounded the second level of the house. Every few windows, they had to climb over a small partition that divided each room's balcony from the others. Camille's dress got caught on one, but instead of letting Mal help untangle it, she simply tore it off, ripping the dress up to the waist.
Modesty didn't matter in an escape, and Mal knew that. What he still didn't know was what they were escaping from.
"Here. There's an alley." Camille stopped at the end of the balcony and pointed over the hedge that separated the alley from the grounds. "We'll double back around the mansion and come out on High Street to meet Zoe and Jayne. I'll figure out where to go from there."
"Cam, how are we gonna get into the alley? There's no way through the hedge from her."
"Over." Camille hiked up her skirt to her waist, revealing a thin chord wrapped around it. She pulled the end free and unwrapped it. Then, she started to climb up the railing, when Mal stopped her.
"I can do it." He took the rope from her and flung it over the loop in the railing. He tied it tight, and tested it. "All right. What's your plan?"
"Guess." Camille climbed onto the railing and, holding onto the rope, leaned over the gap to the bushes.
The gap was about six feet wide. Instead of swinging across it like Mal thought she was gonna, Camille leaned out real far, holding the rope, then jumped onto the bushes over the remaining feet. She rolled across the top, since they were cut flat, then disappeared on the other side; Mal heard her land with a thump.
"Hurry up," she said into the comlink.
"Wonderful," Mal grumbled. He pulled the rope back, took hold, and jumped. Crashing into the top, Mal felt twigs and branches scrape his hands and face. He started sliding down the wrong side, but quickly pulled himself up the rope and onto the top of the bushes. With absolutely no grace or any form, he scrambled to the top and somersaulted haphazardly over the other side to land next to Camille.
"You all right?" she asked.
"Fine. Wonderful. Let's go."
Camille took off down the street, leading him past the back exit of the house. There were people comin' out this was, too, mostly servants and the like. The back gate was flung open, and Mal could see light pouring out from the house. Inside was a disaster area, with food and tables and chairs all over the place, flung around. People ran back and forth, trying to get away from somethin', and Mal saw yet another familiar lookin' guy--a young servant who'd flirted with Camille--on the ground, blood pouring from his mouth and eyes. What the…
Camille suddenly tripped, a gasping moan wending from her throat over the com. He heard her whispering frantically, almost too soft for him to hear, something that sounded like, "Hands of blue, two by two," over and over again.
Mal pulled Camille to her feet, propelling her past the gate. She was still muttering under her breath, never stopping as she ran. "This way!" Camille grabbed Mal's wrist and turned the corner, down another side street.
"Camille, what's going on?" Mal asked. He'd finally gotten his gun free from where it'd been puttied to his thigh; he felt less naked now that he was armed, but he didn't know exactly what he was supposed to be defending themselves against.
"They're after me," was her clipped response.
"Who?"
"Them." Them was said with great significance and terror. Mal had no idea who They were, and was about to ask again when Camille went flying.
"Camille!"
Blood blossomed from her back, spreading over the light green fabric in a tidal wave.
Mal whirled, gun drawn. At the end of the street were two men, both dressed in suits. One held a large gun and he was lowering it slowly. A nearby lamp caught his hand as he lowered it; he appeared to be wearing blue gloves, but once his hand was back in the shadows, Mal couldn't tell.
The man next to the gun toting fella was shorter, but otherwise looked the same. His hand was out, too, and he was holding a silver wand. It looked like he was frowning, and he shook the wand with a blue-gloved hand of his own.
The two men exchanged looks.
"Mal," Camille groaned. She'd struggled to her feet, holding her side. "Shoot them."
"But…"
Camille pulled another gun out and fired at the men. One shot went wild, but the other hit the shorter man in the head. Both he and his wand went down.
"Let's go," she said, her voice shaking. Dropping the gun to her side, she started running once more.
"What about the other one?" Mal asked, catching up to her.
"They're early models," Camille replied, not making any sense. "They can't function without the other. He'll have to go back and get a new partner."
"Then why are we still runnin?" He assumed she knew what she was talking about even if she had no clue.
"There might still be more." She picked up speed, heedless of her wound.
Zoe and Jayne were waiting with the mule on High Street. Camille leapt on and handed both of them putty, ordering them to put it in their ears. Zoe complied after a quick glance at Mal, but Jayne whined and complained until Camille punched him in the jaw and said, "Put them in your gorram ears unless you want what passes for brains to leak out through your nose."
Surprisingly, that shut him up.
The trip back to Serenity was quiet and tense. Mal didn't envy Camille, the only one without putty in her ears. He could see Jayne complaining loudly the whole time, but Mal had switched his comlink off so he didn't have to hear it. From the serene and focused expression on Zoe's face, it seemed like she'd done the same. Camille, though, kept shooting Jayne dirty looks in between bouncing anxiously and straining as if she could make the mule go faster just by wishing.
Camille leapt off the mule the moment it hit Serenity's ramp. Her com was still off, but even so, Mal could faintly hear her shouting, "Wash! Go, now!"
Mal pulled the putty out of his ears and jumped off after her, the blood staining the back of her dress reminding him of her injury. The moment he took the putty out, he could hear River and Kaylee. River was in the infirmary, screaming, shouting, and throwing things as Kaylee, Simon, Book, and a man Mal didn't know tried to calm her down.
Mal went to the intercom and hit it. "Wash? We're all on; go."
"Yeah, I got that," Wash replied tightly. "Mind telling Camille to stop breathing down my neck?"
"Camille! Get down here now," he ordered, wondering when the girl had escaped his sight.
The ship shook and engines whined. A moment later, they were in the air.
Camille appeared from the cockpit, white and shaking. "Yeah?" Her gun was clutched tightly in her hand.
Mal gestured at the infirmary, which River was now trying to break free of. "Mind seeing what you can do to help River calm down? Since the two of you seem to share some kinda special bond."
"Okay." Still holding the gun, she sprinted down the stairs to the infirmary. "River. River!" Camille pushed Kaylee and Book aside, pulling River to her. "It's okay. We're safe. It's okay." She kissed River's cheek, smoothing her hair down. "We're fine."
"Two by two, hands of blue," River moaned, holding Camille tightly.
"Killed one of 'em. Don't know how many others." Camille shuddered and unwound herself from River's embrace. She turned to the stranger. "Hey, Fredrick. Thanks for helping out."
The man, whom Mal now recognized as Camille's contact, shook his head ruefully. "Didn't do much help. Why ain't she medicated?"
"Garrison didn't spring her. I'm gonna take her there as soon as we're able. How many days if we go direct?"
"Two weeks," Fredrick answered warily. "But if we was just chased by the projects, Garrison won't let us go direct."
Camille nodded and scratched at her side. "Probably right. I'll call him." She turned like to go and ran straight into Mal.
Mal grabbed her by the shoulders before she could step around her. "Mind tellin' me what's going on? Who are you plannin' to contact?"
"My boss." She continued to scratch, harder, this time closer to her armpit. Her face screwed up like she were in pain or something.
"And you're givin' him River why?"
Camille furrowed her brow, scratching vigorously. "Because... because..."
"Camille, what's on your arm?" Kaylee gasped suddenly.
She looked down and eyes went wide. "What the hell?" The knife was in Camille's hand before Mal could stop her. To everyone's horror, she plunged the knife into her arm, just above some kinda squirming bump under her skin.
"Lao tian ye!" Simon exclaimed. He shoved Kaylee aside, trying to get to Camille. "Camille, stop it!"
"Get it out, get it out, get it out!" Camille was changing, digging into her arm with the knife.
The bug-thing under her skin moved, running away from the knife. Camille was gushing blood, slicking the floor around it as she went after whatever it was, panic in her voice, face, and hands.
"Stop it," Mal ordered, grabbing at her hand.
She elbowed him in the stomach. "Get it out!" she screamed.
"Help me," Simon said, trying to get hold of Camille.
She started screaming in earnest, fighting and kicking as Simon, Mal, Fredrick, and Jayne tried to wrest the knife from her. "Get it out!"
"We're trying, just stop fighting us," Mal grunted, struggling. He forgot how gorram strong she was.
"Where's her medication?" Fredrick asked. He'd gotten one arm and was twisting it behind her back, pinning it.
"Her what?"
"She can't take medicine," Simon said. He was trying to get her into the room, onto the operating table.
Camille's foot came free of Jayne's hand and kicked him in the groin. Jayne went down with a groan, eyes crossed.
"She can't take painkillers," Fredrick says. "But she's got to have some kinda... carrying case for her meds. The ones that even out her blood level, but she's also got sedatives in case something like this happens."
"Let me go!" Camille shrieked. She ripped her arm free from Mal and clawed at the thing.
"I know where it is!" River said. Then she fled the room.
Book took Camille around the waist and they all managed to get Camille to the table.
"Strap her down," Simon said, moving away for his instruments.
Camille immediately came off the table but was caught by Zoe, who slammed her back down. "Stay," Zoe ordered. She clapped on hand the juncture of Camille's neck and shoulder, trying to block the path of the thing under Camille's skin, which was climbing up towards her neck. "Doctor, you better hurry."
"Do you have her down?"
"Camille," Zoe said loudly, over Camille's cries and struggles. "The doctor is gonna take the thing out, honey, so you better stop fighting us."
"Just get it out," Camille moaned, tears flooding her eyes.
"I got her medicine!" River shouted, flying back into the room. She was holding a book, open, in one hand; in the other, she had a syringe.
Fredrick finished tying Camille's leg down, and then turned to take the book and syringe from River. While he fiddled around with it, Simon returned to the table and made an incision into Camille's skin just above the bump in it.
Camille screamed, arching her back. A sob shook her body and she closed her eyes, shaking.
Without realizing what he was doing, Mal bent over and pressed his forehead into hers. "I'm here, Camille. Just calm down, everythin' is gonna be fine. Just calm down and stay with me. Please."
"Mal?" Camille's eyes opened. She looked barely conscious of what was going on, but she locked onto Mal's
"I'm here." He kissed her, tasting tears and sweat.
"Camille, turn your head," Fredrick said.
"Don't wanna sleep," she moaned.
"Turn your head, and that's an order, Agent."
Camille sniffed, kissed Mal, then turned her head. Mal straightened and watched as Fredrick slid a needle into the base of Camille's neck and injected something. A moment later, Camille went limp.
"She gonna be okay?" Mal asked nervously. He took her hand and squeezed it.
Fredrick nodded, taking the needle out. "She'll be fine. We just have to monitor her blood chemistry and all that. I'll show you how to do it, Doc; I was trained to deal with them before I was sent out, but you got the medical experience." He set the needle down. "What's wrong with her?"
"This." Wielding a pair of tweezers, Simon extracted a metal device from Camille's arm. It was beeping and clicking, waving tiny little metal claws that had bits of blood and flesh in them.
"Kill it," River ordered, voice full of dread. "Kill it now."
"It's a machine, River, it's not..."
River snatched it from her brother and slammed it against the wall. "Now they can't find us."
Mal glanced from her, to Fredrick, and down at Camille's still body. Simon and Zoe were working to stop the blood still pouring from Camille's wounds and patch her up.
"Anyone mind telling me what the hell is goin' on and exactly who this girl is?"
River frowned, tugged at her hair, then sighed, "I will. Let him call his boss first. I want to be fixed, and so does she."