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Firefly: All the World's a Stage

Chapter 3: Anger

Part I

She was holding her child in her arms. Her family was around her, and for now, all was right in the world.

Almost alright. She still had some pain in her abdomen. And if all was right in the world, she wouldn't have had to have given birth to her daughter in Serenity's infirmary of all places, nor would she have done so alone. In an ideal world, she'd be on solid ground. Her daughter would have known the touch of her father's hands as he held her. She'd be able to show her daughter the stars, and tell her that "they're all yours." In an absolutely perfect world, she could have told Joseph and Gina Alleyne that they'd become grandparents. Something that had become an impossibility long ago.

But it was still as right as it could be. Her crew, her family, had been allowed back into the infirmary. Simon stood to one side as he continued cleaning his hands from the operation, but the rest of them – Inara, River, Kaylee, Mal – they all stood at her bedside. Looking at the newest crew member. Who, as she opened her to let out a cry, stared back at them through her innocent eyes.

"She's beautiful," Kaylee said. "What's her name?"

"Hoban," Zoë said, looking down at her daughter, who looked back at her with eyes the size of moons. "Just like her dad."

"Oh," Kaylee said. "That's, um…that's a beautiful name."

Zoë laughed – the first time she'd done so in a long time. "It's a joke Kaylee. Her name's Emma."

"Oh," the mechanic said. "I like that one better."

"Me too," Inara said. She put her finger on the newborn's chin, causing the infant to let out a sound that sounded like a giggle. "Hello Emma."

Emma opened her mouth again, as if trying to say "hello" back. Inara laughed softly. Kaylee smiled as only Kaylee could. River just stood there and stared, tilting her head to the side. To Zoë's surprise, Emma tried to move her head to mimic the girl. Tried, but didn't succeed. But that seemed just fine with her as she yawned, and adjusted herself in the blanket that was her bed.

I love you little one.

If any of the crew members had asked why Zoë had chosen the name she did, she'd have told them that there was no reason. That would have been anti-climactic, but it was true – as her pregnancy wore on, as months of isolation and loss took their toll on her, she'd started to think of her child as an "it." So much so that she'd never stopped to consider any names for her offspring, female or otherwise. There was no-one in her family called "Emma," nor any particular close friend or great woman. Not even her fellow vesselsiders on the Torres from what she remembered. But in the moment, it was the name it had come to her. Emma. "Em" for short. In having a nickname, she shared at least one thing with her father.

But I know he's in there, Zoë thought to herself, watching as Emma closed her eyes. Now, tomorrow, years from now…I'll see him in you. And you'll know him. Through you. Through me. Through family.

Family that she noticed didn't include Mal right now. Or Simon. Craning her neck, she looked around the room, but couldn't see them anywhere. Least not inside it. What she could see through the windows of the infirmary was the two men talking outside, and not in a way that made her feel that everything really was all right in the world.

What you doing captain?

She wasn't psychic. There was only one psychic aboard this ship, and she was currently sticking her tongue out at the baby in her arms. But it was as if Mal heard her thoughts, because he suddenly came walking back to the infirmary's entrance. Moving like he had a purpose, and looking like it as well.

"Kaylee, fire up the engines. River, you're with me."

"Mal, what-"

He didn't stop. He just walked out of her sight, up the stairs that led to the upper deck. Kaylee looked at her. Then River. Then back to her, given that River looked as confused as the mechanic.

"I'm sure it's fine," Kaylee said. "Nothing a little elbow grease won't fix." She put a hand on River's shoulder. "Ain't that right?"

"Elbow grease doesn't fix anything. Just makes it pretty."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Go on," Zoë said, forcing a smile. "Sure you're right Kay – nothing."

Kaylee forced a smile as well, before she followed the footsteps of her captain. After one last tongue stick-out, River followed, passing by her brother as he walked back into the infirmary.

"Well?" Zoë murmured.

"Well?" Simon had apparently decided to be a parrot.

"Well what?" Zoë said. She rubbed a hand against her head – she wasn't feeling too good. "I know this isn't 'nothing.'"

Simon paused in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. He looked as tired as she felt. Probably was as tired as she felt, given how long he'd spent bringing Emma into the world. Eventually he walked over to the bed, giving Inara a look before resting his hand on the side.

"Zoë, you're bleeding internally."

She didn't say anything. No-one did. Not until she whispered, "is Emma going to be-"

"Emma's fine," Simon said. "Perfectly healthy. But…" He sighed. "We need to get you to a hospital Zoë. Without imaging hardware, well, I can only treat the symptoms, not the cause."

"A hospital…" Zoë tried to get up in her bed, but failed. She just didn't have the energy for it, and she still had to hold Emma in her arms. "Simon…I can't…the Alliance…"

"Tell that to Mal." He gave Zoë a small smile. "Granted, you'd have to get to the cockpit and drag him from the pilot's chair, but, well, y'know…"

"His boat, his rules, his wind," Inara said, repeating Mal's words bar certain pronouns. She gave Zoë's arm a squeeze. "You'll be fine Zoë. Mal will get you to help in no time."

"I don't…need…help."

It was a lie. She knew the effects of internal bleeding – she'd seen it in the war. The dizziness, the exhaustion…not that she could see it, but she suspected that if she looked at her abdomen, she'd see plenty of purple. She didn't deny that she needed help. What she did deny was the notion that the crew should put their lives at risk for her. They went to a hospital of any kind, there was a strong chance the Alliance would be right behind them.

"Inara's right," said Simon. "Once Mal's got a course set, he isn't going to change."

Problem was, saying all that about the Alliance and hospitals would require more words than she could muster right now.

"So don't worry," Simon continued. "Everything will be fine."

Another lie. But she was feeling too tired to call him out on it. Instead, she nodded, closed her eyes, and drew her child in close. A child who would never know her father, and, a small voice in her head told her, might never know her mother either.

That won't happen little one. I promise.

Emma began to cry, and Zoë hugged her close, even as the crying continued. Feeling faint. Feeling cold. Feeling angry.

It's not fair.

It wasn't fair that Wash would never know his daughter, or his daughter him. It wasn't fair that after all this that she had to put the crew's lives in danger because her body had glitched. It wasn't fair that the Alliance was still hounding them, that Miranda had been for nothing. That everyone who'd died on the planet, and to get their story told, had died for nothing. Wasn't fair that nine months on, all Serenity could do was keep running, out in the Black.

In one hand, she held her daughter.

With the other, she clenched her fist.

"I ain't feeling so hot."

A few hours had passed since Mal had left the infirmary. A few minutes after he'd done so, she'd felt the kick of the ship's grav drive kicking in – that strange, almost imperceptible feeling of artificial gravity and inertial dampening. In that time, she'd been mostly left alone, Simon and Emma excepted. Simon had kept tabs on her condition, and given the look on his face, it wasn't good. Inara had eventually left, only for Kaylee to come down. If Zoë had been a cynic, she would have guessed that Kaylee wanted to spend time with her bunkmate (to put it mildly). Granted, she was a cynic, but she didn't think that was the case. Not this time at least. Kaylee was simply being Kaylee. Buddying up with Simon Tam didn't change that.

"You're gonna be fine," Kaylee said, putting a hand on Zoë's shoulder. "We're taking you to a medical ship right now. They're gonna get you feeling ship-shape, Zo."

"But-"

"You need help, Zoë," Simon said. "Just rest now. We're almost there."

Zoë sighed – Emma had fallen asleep hours ago, and hadn't woken up since. Which was just as well. Right now, more than anything, she wanted to sleep herself. And yet-

"Where is 'there' anyway?" Zoë murmured. If her team was walking into the lion's den on her behalf, least she could know its name.

"Paquin," said Simon. "Or rather a private medical ship in orbit."

Paquin. Zoë leant back on her pillow. If they were headed for Paquin, it would explain why they'd got here so fast. The ship had gone to ground in the Red Sun system, while Paquin was the second planet in orbit of Heinlein – a brown dwarf helioformed back when the 'Verse was being colonized. She didn't know too much about it, only that it was an oddity in that it was a terrestrial world surrounded by a ring system, rich in all kinds of minerals – gold, iridium, even water was a valuable resource.

"Heads up people," came Mal's voice over the intercom. "We're about to dock."

Zoë held her breath. Not from fear of docking, but rather the fear that it would wake up Emma. It wasn't until a 'clunk' echoed throughout Serenity that she let herself breathe again. She watched as her child turned over in her sleep, but to her relief, didn't wake.

Oh for the touch of dreams, for in them, the world's our own.

She didn't usually quote 24th century philosophers with unpronounceable names, but her world wasn't just her own, and the world as she knew it had been upside down the last few months. She heard the sound of more 'clunks' in quick succession. Someone was coming down the stairs to the ship's lower level.

Hello Mal.

A moment later, she saw her captain arrive. Looking mighty tired, and mighty concerned. Still, least his footsteps sounded the same.

"Hey Zoë."

And his voice.

"So," Simon began, as the captain walked in, said captain pretending to take great interest in a syringe on the bench. "We got a plan?"

Mal remained silent for a moment. Zoë wondered if he was thinking what she was – that Mal's plans had been best buddies with Murphy for years.

"Yeah," he said eventually. "We got a plan."

"Please tell me it's a good one," Zoë murmured.

He forced a smile, but it quickly faded. "Ship's given us berth – no questions asked, no answers given."

"Just like that?" Simon asked. "Like, don't they need-"

"It's called the Saint John," Mal said. "Charity ship. Accidents are common in Paquin's ring mining operation, and Shang Di Mining Inc. ain't big on compensation, so workers get sent here if they need a fix. Turns out that includes us. But…"

"But?" Kaylee asked.

"But we're gonna be ID'd as soon as we walk onto the ship. And given the Alliance is still a mite touchy about our stunt at Siren nine months ago, chances are they'll want to get here in a hurry." He put a hand against the wall, leaning against it – he looked exhausted. "Not doubting this girl's speed, but she ain't one for a shooting war."

"So what do we do?" Simon asked.

"Well, we're wanted fugitives, so we do some fugiting."

That isn't a word, Zoë thought. But Mal continued, as he looked at Simon. "You, me, and Zoë are going to get onboard the ship. Rest of us stay here. River's already tapping into the system's communication net, so if we're pinged, we'll know ahead of time. If that-"

"What about Emma?"

All eyes turned to Zoë. She, and the infant she was holding in her arms much tighter than normal. Eyes that, in Mal's case, told her the answer already.

"Emma…I think she should stay here," he said. He looked at Simon and Kaylee. "I mean, if it comes to it…well, not saying it will, but…"

Kaylee nodded. Simon put a hand to his chin. Zoë did nothing but look at her daughter, still sleeping soundly. Oblivious to the world, and all the lā shǐ happening in it.

"Alright," said Zoë. She looked at Kaylee. "Kaylee, if you could…"

"Hmm? Oh, sure," the mechanic said, taking Emma in her arms. "I'll look after her, no problem Zoë. No problem. None at all."

"Good." She gave her a smile. "You'll do fine Kay."

Kaylee didn't say anything. Nor did anyone else. Not Simon, who sighed, taking a sip of water. Not Mal, who looked torn between fighting, running, and a third option he was searching for. And not herself. Not even as she wanted to tell her daughter that everything would be alright. That she'd be back on the ship before she knew it. That she'd wake up, and find her mother looking over her.

She didn't say that though.

She didn't want to make promises she didn't know if she could keep.

The Saint John was so quiet, she could have mistaken it for a tomb ship rather than a hospital ship.

She remembered the time when she and the others had snuck into Saint Lucy's Hospital on Ariel – Simon's first plan for a heist after joining Serenity, and a plan that had succeeded better than most of Mal's. She remembered how busy it was, how full of people it had been. How for a place for the injured, dead, and dying, the living were still out in full force. Granted, that time she'd been posing as an EMT, and had been on full alert for any sign that the plan was going to go the way of Earth-That-Was. In contrast, she was now being wheeled through the halls of the hospital ship, this time as an actual patient, and not feeling particularly shiny at that.

Yet she felt like the only one. Mal was wheeling her, while Simon was conversing with one of the station's doctors, using jargon that she barely understood. Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see a few doctors making their way through the ship's labyrinthine halls, but no patients, whether they be walking around, or being taken for treatment like she was. Did that mean the ship didn't have that many patients, or that they came in and were treated quietly? Or died quietly...she'd seen what decompression could do to a person. Even if they managed to escape suffocation, having one's suit breached could lead to a person dying very quickly, very fast. And while sound didn't travel through space, radio waves did.

As it turned out, people could actually hear you scream in space

She tried to keep her mind off it. But as memories of the Unification War filled it, she instead filled her mind with pictures of her daughter. The little girl she'd get back to as soon as this was over. Because the Alliance wasn't going to show up, she told herself, because the 'Verse could only kick someone so many times before it hopped away, complaining of a sore foot.

"There's an obstetrical haemorrhage, but we don't have the tomograpy equipment onboard our ship to determine its severity."

That was Simon. Still talking about stuff she didn't understand beyond "she's bleeding internally, and we need to see how bad it is."

"Hmm," said the doctor – she hadn't got his name, and had only seen him long enough to gauge that he was probably older than all of them. "Your ship – Series Four Firefly, right?"

"Three," Mal murmured, his voice low, but carrying the pride he usually did when it came to discussing his boat.

"Three," the doctor repeated. "Well, I understand that. Mid-bulk transport ships often have rudimentary facilities. You a doctor yourself son?"

Zoë could tell he was talking to Simon. And likewise, heard him say, "oh, no. Not really. I know some basic medicine, but out in the Black, people have to take what they can get."

"Ah. Well, don't worry. The Saint John has the best medical facilities on or above Paquin."

Probably the only medical facilities Zoë reflected.

She respected Simon for keeping his mouth shut – bad enough that all of their faces might have been tagged as soon as they cleared the docking bay, but since the Alliance knew everything there was to know about Simon Tam, him presenting himself as less qualified than he actually was might make some difference. At the least, it was enough to keep the doctor talking. Not that she understood much of what he was saying either, but she was fine with it. More he talked, the less likely he was to see that she, Mal, and Simon each had an earpiece that operated on a low frequency band – enough to keep them in touch with the ship and each other without being picked up by any eavesdroppers.

Hopefully.

"And here we are," the doctor said. Zoë heard a door open. "I'll just help Miss Al-Dehaani get onto the bed here, and we'll be all set for a scan."

"Great," Mal said. He put a hand on "Rachel Al-Dehaani's" arm. "We all doing okay?"

"Okay," Zoë murmured.

"Still good," came Inara's voice over the radio. "Far as we can tell, you haven't been pinged."

Zoë coughed.

"Emma's fine as well."

She smiled as she was helped off the stretcher onto the bed in the room before her. It was partly to help her deal with the pain of moving. But, in the knowledge that her daughter was still doing well...that could get her to smile through anything.

"Alright then," said the doctor, giving his own smile to his patient. "Just sit in tight Miss Al-Dehaani, and we'll have you sorted out in no time."

Could even get her through being patronized.

She didn't see the others leave, but she could hear their footsteps. Could hear the sound of the door opening and closing. Through the corner of her eye, she could see a room on the other side of a window, where her friends and her doctor had gathered.

"Alright, so, I'm going to run a quick scan," said the doctor. "Just sit still please."

"Sitting still," Zoë murmured. "Not like I can go anywhere, right?"

A red, circular light began to make its way over and under the bed. It made a humming sound, thankfully not so loud that she couldn't hear Inara's words over the radio.

"Still nothing," the companion said.

Zoë remained still – her heart was beating faster than she cared for, which probably wasn't going to help her bleeding issue. But she couldn't help it. She wanted off this ship, on Serenity, and to be back with her daughter.

"So it's done?" she heard Mal ask.

She couldn't hear the doctor's words, the radios weren't that good.

"How long till she's back on the ship?" Mal asked.

Whatever the doctor said, she still couldn't hear it. Turning her head to the side, she saw him exit the control room, leaving the two men behind. Just standing there.

"Guys?" Zoë asked. "What's happening?"

"Nothing yet, but-"

"Not you Inara," she snapped.

She regretted the words immediately. If...when...she got back on Serenity, she'd apologize to her straight away. Still, if Mal or Simon heard her, they showed no signs of it. But they did walk back into the operating room, their gazes low.

"Mal?" she asked. "What's happening?"

Her captain rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze.

"Mal?" she asked, more forcefully this time. "Come on Captain, you know I don't take bullshit. If..." She swallowed. "If I'm going to die, I...I want to-"

"You're not going to die."

It was Simon who spoke. He came over to her bed, not sounding or looking particularly happy. "I mean, if we didn't get you here you would have been, but they're going to send in a trauma team."

"Oh," Zoë said. Her chest felt lighter, and her heart beat slower. "So, how long until-"

"Five days."

Her chest sank. Her heart stopped. Simon looked like he wanted to say something more, but didn't. After all, what else could be said?

She watched the two men walk over to one of the room's corners. Neither of them exchanged a word. Silence permeated the room as surely as the 'hospital smell' did. That sickly clean smell that made one forget what the smell was there for in the first place. But she didn't forget. Even as the pain remained in her, as sleep tempted her with its gentle oblivion, she found herself clenching her fist. The 'Verse was still intent on kicking her while she was down. And right now, she didn't even have a gun to shoot at it.

"Mal...we've got a problem."

No.

It was Inara's voice. She heard it. Looking at Mal and Simon, she could tell they'd heard it as well.

"Mal, you've been pinged."

It's not fair. She clenched her fist ever tighter, as her blood flowed ever faster, anger tearing down the dams of her spirit.

"Mal...they're coming," Inara said – her captain hadn't said anything yet, so she kept talking. "You need to get out of there."

"How..." Zoë could tell Mal was struggling, and not just for words. "What's our scope?"

There was a sound of scuffling on the other side. A second later, she heard Kaylee speak.

"It, ah, ain't good captain. Looks like a Shortbow-class patrol ship."

"ETA?"

There was no immediate answer. It gave Zoë enough time to reflect on what she knew on the Shortbow, which wasn't much. Only that it was a patrol vessel that was usually attached to Alliance capital ships. They didn't have a long range, but they could burn hard, and burn fast.

"Kaylee, don't bullshit me."

"...minutes, Captain." Kaylee sounded as tired as Zoë felt, and not like the perky mechanic she'd called friend for years at all. "We're talking three minutes tops. Likely less."

"Three minutes?!" Mal yelled. "How the gorram hell did we not see this?!"

"Stealth tech? Just that fast? I don't know!"

Zoë closed her eyes. Three minutes. That was only short of five days by...however many minutes there were in five days minus three minutes.

God damn you.

God, if he existed (which she doubted) had been silent for years. She doubted she was damning anything or anyone. But if so, damn him. Damn him for doing this to her. To them. To Emma – a girl who would never know her father, and now, potentially her mother as well.

Damn you!

"Alright," Mal said. Zoë saw her look at him. "We're going to get you back to the boat, and-"

"Mal, she is going to die if she doesn't have this operation," Simon said.

She saw Mal turn around. "Doctor, if she don't get on my boat, she's going to be in the hands of the fēicháng zāogāo de rén that got us here in the first place."

"You think I don't know that?" he hissed.

"No. But I think you can do something on Serenity. Might not be as fancy as this place, but-"

"Christ sake's Mal, I'm a doctor, not a magician," Simon said. "I can treat bullet wounds. Knife wounds. Concussions My sister. But I can't treat Zoë with equipment I don't have!"

"Two minutes," Inara's said. "Kaylee's firing up the engines."

"Listen carefully," Mal whispered. "You been on my boat awhile, and while it pains me, you're family now. But Zoë's been in my home longer than you have, and-"

"Go."

Four eyes turned to Zoë.

"Mal...you need to go," she whispered.

Now only two eyes, as she saw Simon turn away, taking a peak outside the room. Mal, on the other hand, walked over to the bed, knelt down, and took her hand.

"Zoë, listen to me," he whispered. "They're not just after River this time. They're after all of us. And I don't think they much care if we're dead or alive."

"I can take care of myself."

"Zoë, I ain't leaving you, no way. You stayed with me through worse."

"One minute!" Inara yelled over the radio. Mal didn't seem fazed though, though Zoë knew her captain, her sergeant, well enough to tell what was going on with his head. The knowledge that yet again, they'd have to run. Run as they always did. Maybe even for the rest of their lives.

"If you stay, they'll get Emma," she whispered. The anger that had been building up in her had begun to subside. In its place was grief, a tear trickling down her cheek. "Please."

"Mal, they're inside," Inara said. "They're going to be here any second."

Mal didn't say anything.

"Mal..." Simon said. He was holding the door open and looking back at them. Mal didn't look back though. He just took Zoë's hand in his. Just like he had on New Melbourne. Di Yu. Ares. Hera. Those worlds, and others whose names had long escaped her.

"We'll come get you once you're well," he whispered. "You got my word."

She forced a smile.

"Mal, get back on the ship now!"

Even as Inara gave her last warning.

"Go," she whispered."

She watched Simon head out the door first. Saw her captain hesitate in the doorway, before following the doctor. Saw him disappear out of sight, leaving her alone in the room. Likely to soon be dead, either through internal bleeding, a bullet, or something worse...such as being taken alive.

No.

Being taken alive wouldn't be worse. Being taken alive meant that there was a chance, however slim, of seeing her daughter again.

Emma.

She clenched her fist once more. Nothing would change what was about to happen. She could hope that Serenity could escape – if the Shortbow had docked, it would mean that Serenity at least had a head start. Why they'd docked rather than go after the ship, she didn't know – maybe Serenity had been hidden in the station's wake? Maybe the ship had come from the wrong direction?

The door to the room burst open, and she supposed she'd never know. Six purple bellies stormed in, all of them carrying guns, all of which were pointed at her, and all of whom looked ready to use them.

Hello there.

She just lay there on the bed, staring down their barrels. None of them said a word – she supposed that laid out here, helpless, there was no need to order her to get down on her knees, drop her weapon, or anything like that. If they saw her clenched fist, if any of them was aware of her desire to spring up, fight her way through them, and get back to her daughter, they didn't show it.

"Zoë Alleyne Washburne?"

The marines stood aside. She looked up and saw a seventh marine walk into the room – the bars on his uniform suggested he was lieutenant.

"Zoë Washburne?"

She remained silent. She had nothing left to say to the Alliance.

"Zoë Wasburne, by the authority of the Union of Allied Planets Marine Corps, I'm placing you under arrest under charges of terrorism, sedition-"

She spat at him. The projectile didn't go far, but it did give the leatherneck pause, as he looked at the saliva land on the bed before him.

"Charming," he murmured. He looked to one of his men. "Escort Miss Washburne to the ship."

The purple belly obliged and put his arm around Zoë's. She was tempted to give him a fist full of knuckle, damn the consequences. However, never seeing her daughter again was among those consequences.

"I wouldn't do that," she said. "Not unless you want a corpse aboard your ship."

The marine paused, glancing at his commander.

"Internal bleeding," she said, patting her belly. The incubator that had given her daughter life, now slowly killing her. "Ask the doctors if you want."

She saw the marines look at their CO. Saw the CO chin to his mouth. A chin that more and more, she'd love to punch. Only thoughts of her daughter kept her at bay.

"Hathway, get one of the doctors here, I want a readout on the prisoner's condition. Taylor, contact the Fu Xi. Let them know they'll have a patient inbound."

"Yes sir."

"Right away sir."

Zoë glared at the CO. The anger. It was still there, but it was getting harder and harder to sustain. Her mind raged against the dying of the light, but her body just wanted to rest. "Heh."

"Hmm?"

"Didn't think...you'd want me...alive."

Sleep. It was coming for her. But not so fast that she couldn't hear the lieutenant's next words.

"Trust me Miss Washburne, we have every intention of keeping you alive."

She wanted to scream. To spit. To tell him it was Mrs Washburne, because those bastards may have taken her husband from her, but they hadn't taken away the vows she'd made half a decade ago. Wanted more than anything to hold her daughter in her arms.

But she couldn't do any of that.

All she could do now was let sleep take her into oblivion's embrace.

And the marines to wheel her off the ship.