Title: Tales of a Would-be Hostage
Chapter: 4/??
Author: thefalloficarus at livejournal
Characters: This chapter: Kaylee, River, Simon, Mal, Zoe, OC Marisol
Spoilers/Warnings: Completely Alternate Universe. River never went to the Academy, certain characters have WAY different backgrounds. There's a character death in this chapter. Trust me, it's for the best, I can't write for this character worth beans.

Note: plot bunny passed on to me by lj user whitemoonflower. Sorry I've forgotten to credit you till now, and thank you so much for sharing this idea with me!
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Chapter 5: Realizations

Mal sighed, hand on the window of the infirmary as he watched a stranger, his hostage, sew his best friend back together. He had never told Zoe in so many words that she was his best friend, but of all the people in the world, Zoe was one of the closest to his heart, and watching her with someone's hands inside her, sewing her back together, Mal kept finding it increasingly hard to breath. He didn't particularly trust Doctor Tam, after all he was Alliance and they were never to be trusted, but the man seemed competent from what Mal could tell, and he'd even been so kind as to point out medical supplies open and ready for the taking on the deck of the Magellan.

Marisol turned, glancing at Mal from inside Serenity's makeshift operating room, and gave him a look that he couldn't quite discern. She looked frazzled, tired and completely out of her element. Mal knew all too well that he was in for an ear full when the operation was over. He'd already heard quite a speech from Wash, and silently, he vowed that if Zoe could just pull through, the crew could lecture him every day for the rest of his life and he'd keep his griping to a minimum. He would have vowed not to complain at all, but he knew that would have been a lie, and he tried not to lie when people's lives were on the line, even if that lie would only be to himself.

Mal ran a hand through his hair, rubbing his head, trying to wipe out all the worries and events of the day.

"Will she live?" A voice behind Mal asked.

"I don't rightly know." Mal said, turning to face Inara.

There was a moment of silence as Inara searched Mal's face, watching him closely. Mal always kept his cards so close to him that she could never fully read him, even when he seemed so obvious. Now he looked guarded and cold, and she just shook her head. Mal wasn't going to talk about Zoe no matter how hard she pried. "Are we at least going to talk about the two young women you have tied up in the passengers' quarters." She asked, changing the subject.

"Well I couldn't put them in the shuttle; they might get loose and fly away." Mal answered sarcastically.

Pain flashed across Inara's delicate features for a moment. "When are you ever going to let me in Malcolm Reynolds?"

He stood there for a moment, looking down on the slender companion. He'd found himself growing more and more attracted to her as time went on, but not only was whorin' her business, but she was also a paying customer on his ship. No matter how hard he lusted, those two things mattered more to him than she would ever understand. "Not today Inara." He finally answered, shaking his head and brushing past her. "Not today."

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River sat, wiggling her hands loosening the knots that held her ever so slightly. They'd searched her before knocking her out, tying her to a chair, and locking her in a room by herself. She wasn't sure where they were keeping Kaylee but obviously Mal and his crew didn't want her communicating with Kaylee. At first she'd heard her screaming for her, calling out her name, and she'd yelled back that she was fine and to just sit tight. She had wanted to say more, but she knew that in order for them to facilitate any sort of escape plan, they couldn't just shout it out to their captors.

Something inside River tingled suddenly; the sense that she'd had since before she could remember, that let her know what she couldn't, gave her the advantage many times. She stilled herself, leaving the knots for another time, and lifted guarded eyes to the door.

Mal, as she was now sure his name was, stepped through the door. He looked at her, blandly, as if it hadn't caught him off guard that she was watching him when he entered, still and silent as if she'd been waiting for him. He closed the door behind him, shifting his weight from foot to foot, then stilled under River's watchful gaze. A cool look crossed his eyes when he finally spoke. "Your husband's doing a fine job so far."

River's gaze shifted into a glare. "Stop calling him my husband."

Of all the comments she could have made, this seemed to startled Mal the most and he only managed a befuddled, "What?" before she continued.

" Dr. Tam. He's not my husband you moron. Haven't you noticed we look an awful lot alike for husband and wife?" She spat at him venomously.

"Well, I'd..."

"Oh, no, that's right you've been too busying with kidnapping, armed robbery, and for a little extra kick, a dash of assault." She said harshly, with an air of superiority.

"I am rightly sorry about that." Mal said, and for a moment, something that could have been guilt passed over his face. "You wouldn't hold still though, had to do something." He stepped towards her then and gently took her face in his hand. River struggled then, jerking backwards, almost tipping over her chair to escape his grasp, but Mal kneeled on her leg, pinning her to the ground and sighed. "I'm just trying to check your head." He groaned exasperated. "Hold still."

When she continued to struggle he looked at her like a parent would a child that was misbehaving. "This is why you got knocked out in the first place." He said standing up and away.

"I'm sorry. Next time I'm being taken prisoner I'll quietly surrender myself to space pirates." She spat, eliciting a grin, which was not her intent.

"Space Pirates." Mal chuckled, sitting on the bed next to her chair. "I like that." He said to her, shaking his head.

River watched him, her expression harsh. They were silent for a moment each lost in their own thoughts, until finally River said quietly. "Is my brother okay?"

This seemed to catch Mal from his thoughts and he looked up at her puzzled.

"My brother, Simon." She said then rolled her eyes. "The man you assumed was my husband."

"Brother?" Mal asked then.

"Yes. Brother." River returned, growing more agitated. "Are you secretly here to torture me by forcing me to repeat everything I've already said? Because if so you're only succeeding in pissing me off." She growled.

"No." Mal said, laughing. "I'm sorry. Brother. Simon. Gotcha. Simon's fine. Marisol is with him. She's helping him with the surgery. They should be done soon."

"And then what?" River asked.

"And then what, what?" Mal asked, which caused an angry flush to creep up into River's cheeks. "Sorry." Mal said, then, holding his hand up, stopping her from having to explain or repeat herself. "I meant, then we wait. Once Zoe's recovered and out of the woods, then we drop you off planetside and you call your people. Y'all should be gone by the end of the week."

"And what is this Zoe of yours doesn't make it, what then?" River asked.

"If she doesn't... well... let's just say you should pray that she does." Mal said darkly, standing up to go.

"Wait, what about Kaylee?" River asked, trying to stop Mal from leaving now, wanting more answers.

"The interview portion of our day is over little girl." Mal said, looking at her one last time before leaving the room. River heard the click of the lock turning, and with a sigh she began working on her ropes once more.

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Mal took a deep breath and leaned against the wall outside of River's makeshift prison. The girl was spunky, beautiful and a force to be reckoned with. If she hadn't been an Alliance flunky he might even have liked her.

"But I don't." Mal said, shaking his head, not knowing why the thought even came to his head. And with another deep breath he shifted, leaving the wall and River behind, moving towards the infirmary once more, to watch her brother operate, not even questioning why that fact seemed to be somehow very interesting to him.