CHAPTER FIVE
The week following River's departure was very long and slow for Mal. Sitting still in one place for so long was making him terribly itchy to get out and do something, but he was stuck here on this dustball moon with nothing to do but think. He hadn't decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he sure had a lot going through his mind, most of it about River.
She had unnerved and exhilarated the hell out of him, and Mal might have been a lot of things, but he knew it was pointless to try to argue what was staring him straight in the face.
Didn't mean he couldn't take issue with it. He kept telling himself every reason why he couldn't—shouldn't—be with River. He had no right to have her like that. He was the captain, and he should have been acting like one. Still, all the reasoning in the 'verse didn't do him a lick of good, because this wasn't reasonable.
And what had River been thinking? That was a question that burned at Mal's mind. She'd said she hadn't known how he felt, and since River had never lied to him, Mal trusted her word—which only left him asking why. Why had she done it? For love? River'd never had a beau of any sort; her teenage years had been spent being tortured or running from her torturers, mostly. What had made her sweet on him, of all people?
Fortunately, there were only two people on his boat at the moment, and one of them had a head thicker than the bulkhead. Zoe, on the other hand, noticed his brooding, and the day after he'd sent her out to see how River was getting along, she pointedly told him, "She'll be fine."
Mal shot her a look. "Who said I was worried about River?"
Zoe gave him one of her looks and raised her eyebrows at him. "She's a fighter. Doesn't give up easy on nothin'." And when Zoe walked away, Mal had a very sinking suspicion that there had been a double meaning in that.
Things got a mite more interesting when a wave came in from Simon. Mal answered the call and knew he was in for the long haul when Simon said, "Can I speak to River?"
Mal crossed his arms. "She ain't here just now."
Simon's eyes narrowed slightly. "Not there? Where is she?"
"Out on a job, of a sort," Mal said.
"Of a sort," Simon echoed.
"You gonna repeat everythin' comes out of my mouth? She ain't here, doc. You need somethin' or you just look to chat?"
"I was just calling to say hello. Is River all right?"
As Zoe had just reported her to be fine, Mal thought it safe to say just that. "She's fine. She'll be back on board in a few days, and then we'll be comin' for you. I'll have her send you a wave soon as she can." Without giving Simon time to argue, Mal cut off the wave and sank back into his seat. Simon was another headache in all of his thinking on River, for more reasons than he wanted to contemplate. He had enough to deal with—forget Simon; he still didn't even know what he was going to say to River when she came back to the ship. How was he supposed to tell her all the reasons this couldn't be when he wasn't even sure he believed it himself?
The day that Rina Duncan was supposed to arrive finally dawned, and Mal was grateful. She was set to arrive mid-morning at the hotel, according to the schedule River had left, and with any luck, River would be able to find out what she needed to and be back on board by supper.
Of course, their luck wasn't always the best, just like the job didn't always go smooth. This time was no exception. Shortly into the afternoon, Zoe called him up to the bridge, saying there was a wave for him. From her tone, he knew something was wrong, and hightailed it to the cockpit.
A slight, dark-haired woman was on the screen, and she wasted no time in getting straight to the point. "Captain Reynolds? My name is Laurel Ishida; I'm an agent with the Bureau of Internal Affairs."
Alliance. Shiny. "What do you want?"
"River Tam has been shot."
It was amazing the effect those five words had on him. Mal gripped the console tightly and asked, "Is she alive?"
"For now. She was taken to the med-center in the city."
Mal whirled on Zoe. "Prep the mule, now."
:-:-:
River was present in the lobby, cashing in her credit tips from breakfast at the register, when Rina Duncan arrived. She usually cashed them at the end of the day, but she was hoping to be gone by then.
She hadn't been sure what she had been expecting, but Duncan looked less like an Alliance politician than any River had ever seen. Of course, she was likely dressed the way she was so that she wouldn't draw attention to herself on this Outer Rim world. A gray-haired, stern-faced woman in plain, homespun clothing, she looked like she could be a rancher's wife. She definitely didn't look like someone who could have helped enslave people and ordered the murders of Mal and River, but River knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving.
With her was a man dressed in rough clothes—a bodyguard, only one, and not one of the ones that had been at the party. Having only one bodyguard was also unusual for most politicians, but again better for traveling unobtrusively.
River didn't get anything from Duncan's thoughts in the lobby except that the woman was tired, had traveled a long way, and wanted to rest before her meeting. So at least River knew there was going to be a meeting. She might have tried to glean more from Duncan's mind as she disappeared upstairs with her suitcase, but she was distracted when the manager came over to talk to her about her afternoon performance.
When lunchtime rolled around, three of the feds made an appearance in the dining room. Agent Burnham and Agent Tristram sat together, and the other woman, Agent Ishida, sat alone near the door. River could feel the feds' eyes on her as she went through another mundane dance performance, not even thinking about the motion of her feet, but instead focusing on the waves of thought patterns assailing her from all over the room.
It wasn't long before River noticed a woman walk into the dining room. She sat in a chair near the door and kept glancing furtively around, every bit of her posture speaking of nervousness. Her thoughts were very disjointed and unclear, but River caught one name in the clutter, which she immediately recognized as Rina Duncan's alias on this world.
So it wasn't terribly surprising when Rina Duncan herself appeared and slid into the table opposite of the strange woman, while her bodyguard sat at the table across from them. By that time, River had edged her way over to that side of the room, where she could hear the conversation with her ears and not just her mind, because it took less concentration.
The woman—Sarah Elliot, rancher, four children, widowed this month when her husband died in an accident off-world—sounded just as anxious as she looked when she spoke. "You said you might know somethin' that could help me?" The reason for her unease suddenly became quite clear as an onslaught of images struck River. Late night, house invaded, men yelling, wanting something, something that Sarah didn't have and didn't know, and children screaming Mama Mama help me Mama please, and then the intruders were gone, and so was her eight-year-old, taken away by the strangers.
"I knew your husband," Duncan said quietly, glancing subtly around. She paid little heed to River, standing in the corner with her head down, trying to keep quiet against everything just deposited in her brain. "We had business dealings."
"My husband had lots of business dealings," Sarah replied.
"I'm sure he did," Rina Duncan replied wryly. She rested her chin on her fingertips. "Mrs. Elliot, didn't you ever find it unusual that your husband went off-world for business trips?"
More than a little uncomfortable now, Sarah shifted in her chair. "Well, my daddy done left me the ranch when he died. Ollie, he never did want much to do with ranchin', so I mostly saw to it, what with the hands we hired on." She was silent for a moment, and then she said pleadingly, "Your message said you might know somethin' about my little girl?" There was so much emotion inside of this woman, and River felt it all—guilt, anger, desperation, fear—terrible, horrible fear. Her thoughts were so strong that it was harder to pick out Rina Duncan's, which were vague and subtle and shifty.
"I saw your husband just before he died," Duncan said in a low voice. "He told me that some people were angry with him; that they thought he'd cheated them on a deal."
"Ollie never cheated no one," Sarah said stoutly, though in her mind she wasn't so sure. Her husband hadn't spoken much of his work bringing trade in and out of New Canaan.
"Well, these men believed he had something of theirs. When I heard your daughter was kidnapped, of course I immediately thought of these men." Finally, Duncan's thoughts were beginning to have a bit more clarity, and River didn't like the implications of what she was seeing. "Did Ollie mention anything to you during his last trip? Send any messages home, or—"
Sarah was shaking her head. "I ain't got nothin', else I would've given it to them. I'd give them whatever they wanted, if only they'd give me Savannah back." Her voice broke. "Is that all? You don't got any notion who the men were?"
Yes, she did, River saw. Rina Duncan knew exactly who the men were, because she had been the one that sent them to Sarah's ranch to take little Savannah away. Why? River's whole body was tense as she concentrated as hard as she could upon Duncan's thoughts, hoping that something would rise to the surface, that she would be able to finally figure out what all of this meant.
Hostage. They had taken one of Sarah's children hostage so that if she did have what they were looking for, she wouldn't think to use it. To use—evidence.
Evidence of Rina Duncan's association to the slave ring. Evidence of deals made and silence kept, so that the Alliance's empire could run smoothly.
River was reeling from the impact of a great deal of sudden insights, and it took her too long to realize that Rina Duncan never meant Sarah to walk out of here. Never meant her daughter to be returned to her. Was quite willing to kill in order to protect this secret, and would take no chances about Sarah ever finding out how her husband Ollie had really died.
River noticed the thoughts of Duncan's bodyguard too late. He was already cocking the gun hidden under his jacket, and River lurched forward, screaming, "Gun!" She grabbed Sarah Elliot, swinging them both around at the exact moment the gun went off. No matter how much River knew it was coming, how fast her reflexes were, she had no time to move out of the way. The bullet pierced her back, burning into her, and she toppled to the ground on top of a stunned Sarah. She heard a voice yelling, "Federal officer! Freeze and put your gun on the ground," but it seemed very faint and far away.
Agent Ishida's face came into view, and she carefully moved River off of Sarah, lying her flat on her stomach. River heard her clothes being torn away from her back, and the low hiss Ishida gave when she saw the damage. She looked up and spoke to someone River couldn't see. "We've got to get her to a hospital."
Guests at the hotel were panicking, and Sarah Elliot was still crouched on the ground in front of River, looking stunned.
"Mal," River whispered. Her brain was starting to get a little muddled, a little fuzzy, and the searing pain in her back was starting to feel strangely numb. She found the strength to grab Ishida's arm. "Tell him. Have to help. Get Sarah and her children somewhere safe. They can't stay—too dangerous."
Sarah started at the sound of her name, and Ishida only looked confused. "Who's Sarah? River! Who's Sarah?"
"I-I am," Sarah stammered. "But—"
"Tell Mal," River mumbled, and then the world swirled and faded to black.
:-:-:
"Captain Reynolds."
Outside the operating room in the city's small med-center—not quite a hospital, but a little more than a doctor's office—Mal and Zoe were greeted by a woman with red hair, and beside her stood Agent Ishida. Ishida, he noticed, had a spattering of blood on her shirt, but she didn't seem to be hurt at all. It suddenly jolted him that it was probably River's blood, and that left his head feeling all spinny.
"Where is she?" Mal demanded. He had loads of questions, but they could wait till he knew if River was all right.
"She's in surgery," Ishida told him. "She was shot in the back—it looked pretty nasty…" She trailed off at the smoldering look on Mal's face, and the red-haired woman quickly stepped in.
"I'm Kari Burnham, the agent in charge of the investigation here."
"What investigation?" Mal asked through clenched teeth. "What the hell are gorram Alliance agents doin' on this rock, and what have you got to do with River? If you're the ones that caused this—"
"I assure you, we did nothing to harm River," Burnham said.
"How did you know who River was? How'd you even know we were here?" Zoe asked.
Burnham and Ishida exchanged glances, and then Burnham sighed. "That's a long story."
Mal crossed his arms. "I got nothin' but time here."
"I'm afraid I only know pieces." Burnham quickly explained how she and four of her agents had followed them from Olympia, and then tracked Zoe to the hotel. "We spoke to River last night, but she wouldn't tell us exactly what she was doing at the hotel. We believed she had found the next step in this slave ring, and judging from what happened, I'd say we were right." She folded her arms across her chest. "Everything just—exploded. One second, River was fine, and the next she was screaming about a gun. She took the bullet that was meant for some woman—"
"Sarah Elliot," Ishida interjected.
Mal shook his head, the name not meaning anything to him. "Who?"
"Mrs. Elliot was having lunch with—" Ishida pulled out a computer pad and looked at it "—Elle Burgess, and—" She trailed off at the look on Mal's face. "You know that name?"
Elle Burgess—Rina Duncan's alias. "Do you know what happened to her? This Burgess?"
"She slipped out of the hotel in the mayhem. We haven't been able to locate her, though we do have the gunman in custody. As of yet, we've been unable to identify him," Burnham said. "I'm about to go question him."
Mal muttered several curses in English and Chinese. "What about this Sarah Elliot?"
"Just after River was shot, she said to tell you to help—that Mrs. Elliot and her children had to be moved somewhere safe."
"Where is she now?" Zoe asked.
"One of my agents has moved her and her children to our ship, until we have a better understanding of what's going on," Burnham said.
Mal pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to piece it together in his mind. River had taken a bullet for a woman meeting with Rina Duncan, a woman she had obviously seen was in danger. And though it seemed these two agents were being truthful—and they had brought River to the med-center, which at least gave them a small edge in their favor—he had been lied to by the Alliance far too many times to just accept what they said completely. The only way to know exactly what was going on was to talk to River. If she came through this.
God, oh, God. He'd spent the whole gorram week trying to figure out how he should and shouldn't be dealing with her, and he hadn't really stopped to think that he might not even get a chance to figure it out. To see her again. She'd come through a lot—been shot in the arm once, stabbed, been bruised and bloodied, but none of it had ever been life-threatening. And despite all he knew about how quickly someone could be taken away, how fleeting life could truly be, for some reason he'd come to depend on the idea that River always came back. Times when anyone else would have fallen, she stood.
He had let go of a lot of things in his life—been forced to let go of them. The war for independence. Book. Wash. Inara.
He wasn't ready to lose River.
Which was why, though he still doubted, he prayed, like he had never prayed before, that if God Almighty truly did exist and care even half a whit, He wouldn't take River from him.
Taking a deep breath, Mal pulled Zoe to the side. "I want you to go back to the ship. I want you and Jayne to go pick up Simon and Kaylee—might need the doc on hand; don't know how these border-world medics are." And as much as that wasn't going to be a fun reunion, Mal had a lot more faith in Simon's medical abilities than any other doctor around. Of course, considering it would take twenty-four hours, round trip, to collect Simon, River was likely to either be out of the woods or…
"You be all right here?" Zoe asked, flicking a glance back at the agents.
Mal chopped a nod. "I'll keep an eye on the situation here. Just get them and get back, fast as you can."
Zoe nodded and strode for the door. Burnham left, as well, to question to shooter, while Ishida stayed behind—to keep an eye on him, or River, maybe, but Mal didn't care, as long as she didn't go asking him questions right now. Which, to her credit, she didn't.
It was a good few hours before a doctor stepped into the waiting room and glanced around. "River Tam?"
Mal stood. "How is she?" he asked roughly.
"Stable," the doctor replied. "We were able to stop her internal bleeding. She'll be all right. We've moved her to the recovery ward."
Relief sank onto Mal like one of Jayne's weights, and the great knot that had twisted up his stomach loosened slightly. "I want to see her."
"It might be best to—"
"I want to see her," Mal repeated, his tone giving the doctor no room for arguments.
The doctor studied him a moment, then nodded reluctantly. "Follow me." He led Mal to a small room. River was in the bed, propped on her side. Her hair was messy and half tied up, and someone had washed most of the white paint off of her face, but Mal could still see traces of it. She was pale as anything, and had a tube running into her nose and IV in her arm, but seeing her lying there, alive, she was beautiful.
Mal stopped beside her bed and carefully covered one of her hands with his. To his surprise, her eyes flickered open, though they were dull and unfocused. She blinked at him, a confused expression crossing her face. "Mal?"
"Hey, there. Got yourself in quite the mess here, didn't you?"
"What…" River swallowed, and her forehead creased. "I got shot."
"I noticed that."
"Too crowded. Always too crowded. Is she all right?"
For a moment, Mal wasn't sure if River was referring to herself in the third person or talking about the woman she'd saved. "You mean your Sarah Elliot? Fine and dandy, accordin' to them Alliance agents."
"Safe. Keep her safe," River whispered. "She's the key; just have to find the lock."
"The key to what, ai ren?"
"Stopping it. Stopping…" But her eyes drifted closed, and she didn't finish her thought.
Mal stood there for a long moment, her small hand in his, and he turned his eyes heavenward and muttered, "That's one point in your favor."
