The Fish Job

by mal4prez

A simple but smelly job goes wrong in the usual way. Until things get... unusual.

2. Part 2

The Fish Job: Part 2 (Chapters 5-9)

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

---

Chapter 5.

A spider had burrowed into the back of Mal's head. Its fat body sat at the top of his spine, and its long spiny legs pushed through the inside of his skull. The spider glowed white.

With a painful effort, Mal pushed this image away. It wasn't helping. He tried to think more cheerful thoughts, but for a while nothing came to him.

Oh yeah, he remembered, we got paid. We got well paid. But after that, things hadn't gone so good. The events on the station came back to him with an odd clarity, and he pictured it in his mind: taking out the lights, finding the service lift, climbing the stairs back up to the docks, heading for the platform. Then it just… ended.

Someone got to him; had to be the Alliance.

Gradually, he became aware of a faint background noise. A buzzing. A ship's engine? If it was, it was a small - too high pitched to be a cruiser. A transport maybe? Only one way to find out: he decided to try waking up. Not that it was likely to make the situation any better. But hell, optimism had worked once today, maybe he ought'a try it again. Could be he was still on the station, or planetside, so the crew would have a chance to get him out. If he'd been shipped to that cruiser he was humped. Not a cheery idea, he thought. Better avoid that one.

Here goes.

Blinding white light jabbed into his head and woke up the spider. He closed his eyes again and waited for it to stop its fussing. After a bit, he peeked out through squinted eyes. Gorram light. He held up a hand to block it. Hands not bound, that's something.

"Oh, sorry about that," a familiar voice said, sounding distant. The light turned off and a figure leaned over Mal. "How do you feel?"

"Ask the spider," Mal said very slowly.

"Um …"

"It's okay, doc. Just got a headache." Cautiously keeping his eyes at narrow slits, Mal focused on Simon.

"I'm not surprised," the doctor said. His voice and the sight of his face seemed to draw closer and clearer as Mal drew further up out of unconsciousness. "You've got a concussion where they hit you."

"Hit me?"

"You got lucky, sir." Zoë's voice floated to him.

"Ain't no such thing. Zoë?"

"Over here."

Mal turned toward her, but this involved rolling over the back of his head, which was a bad idea.

After things settled again, he asked, "Who hit me?"

"Jayne and I came to meet you, saw two guys draggin' you off. They have headaches at least as bad as yours right now."

"Good. What's with the buzzin'?"

"Buzzing, sir?"

"This should help," Simon said from Mal's side. Mal felt a sting in his arm, and a few seconds later the ache in his skull subsided. Things came better into focus, and he saw Simon putting away a bottle.

"Thanks, Doc." He carefully looked over to Zoë. "Two guys?"

She shrugged. "They weren't very good."

"Alliance?"

"Might have been. Not in uniform, but real clean cut."

"Funny there was only two of 'em."

"They must not've known who they're after, or they'd have sent a whole squadron."

"Snuck up behind me. Very quiet."

"They got behind you? I take it back, sir. They must have been top agents. The best."

"Nice of ya to say it." Mal smiled and let his eyes close. The painkiller was working its way further into him.

"You did get lucky."

"Ain't no such thing as luck."

"You're here."

"Guess I am. Rest of the crew?"

"Yep. We met up with Inara and hightailed it."

Mal opened his eyes to give her a questioning look."We bein' followed?"

"Oddly, no, we're not."

He frowned. "They let us leave?"

"They did."

"Zoë, somethin' smelly 'bout that job."

"I smelled it too, sir."

"And I ain't talkin' 'bout the fish." Mal's eyes drifted shut again.

"That's a different kind of stink."

"Let's talk 'bout it later."

"Sure Cap'n. Sleep well."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal sat alone at the table, sipping tea and nibbling a rice cake. It was early morning on the ship's clock, but his sleep schedule had been messed up by all the unconscious time. They were already more than a day out of Oeneus, and this was the first time he'd been able to hold down any solid food. He still felt weird in the head; he must have got hit mighty damned hard.

But now the worst of the ache was gone and he was able to think a little. He forced himself to focus on the fish job; something wasn't right and surely it'd be back around to bite him in the ass if he didn't figure it out.

He could tell by the dark looks he'd gotten from a few of the crew, namely Book and Inara, that they thought this new trouble was the result of his little temper tantrum with the kid on New Melbourne. Mal didn't agree. The Feds had come after him in the bar instead of meeting him at the ship, and they hadn't known that Zoë and Jayne were with him. So the Feds must of ID'd him as a target after they'd all gotten off the lift and split up. Must have ID'd him in the bar. They had to be after him because he'd been talking to the Kamath guy, that's the only thing that made sense. But why did they show up in the bar after the guy left?

Then there was the issue of the two gents who'd given him the achey head. Most likely they had been Feds out of uniform, trying to blend in so they could jump him. But why only two guys? And why such a sloppy job?

The Alliance was just moving in to a remote world, and it was clear they weren't fully staffed. The guy that led the search of the ship certainly wasn't up to the usual Alliance snuff. But still - they knocked him out then let themselves get jumped? That last part didn't sit right. Feds couldn't be that stupid, could they?

So maybe those two guys weren't Feds. It wouldn't be the first time in his career that he had two separate groups of people out to ruin his day. But who else would be after him out here?

Mal set the questions aside as Inara came in.

"Good morning, Captain."

"Mornin', Inara."

"How is your head?"

"Feelin' a little too full at present."

"That must be uncomfortable for you."

"Hmm." Mal narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out if that was an insult. Guĭ , at least she was talking to him. He smiled, this optimism thing was starting to take hold. "Did I pull you away from an important client back there?"

"Actually, yes, you did."

"I hope there weren't no broken hearts."

"Not on my account. I believe River did all the heart breaking this time around."

"Did she, uh…"

"Never even took her veil off, but she's very good with body language. She would make an excellent Companion."

"That's all I need."

"It wasn't a suggestion." Inara sat at the table. She took a deep breath and continued awkwardly. "Actually, it's funny you should ask. My client took my early departure quite well."

"Really?"

"Because I should be seeing him fairly often in the future."

"How's that?"

"I made a contact, and I've found a good… situation. On Patton. It's not far from Oeneus. It's a good offer and it saves me the trouble of finding transport all the way in to the Core."

Mal stopped the question on the tip of his tongue: situation as in permanent client? He set down his cup and rubbed his neck. Did he really have to deal with this right now?

"I'll see what I can do about gettin' you there."

"Thank you."

"We can't go straight in. There's a lot of Alliance on Patton."

"I understand. There's no need to hurry. The situation will wait for me."

Again Mal resisted the urge to ask the situation's name. "Have you told everyone yet?"

"Not about this particular offer. They know I plan on leaving eventually."

They sat for an uncomfortable moment, until a groggy looking Zoë stumbled in.

"Morning, Captain," she mumbled.

"Morning, Zoë. You're up early."

"Looks like I ain't the only one."

"Nothing like a cracked skull to muck up your sleep schedule," Mal said with more cheer than he felt. "What's a matter with you? You look a wreck."

"Just feelin' a mite icky this morning." Zoe brought a fragrant cup of mint tea to the table.

"You get straight to the doc. I don't want no sickness spreadin' around my boat."

"Actually, Captain, I seen him already. I ain't sick." Zoë slid her teacup aside she could set her elbows on the table and rested her face in her hands.

Inara gasped. "Really?" Zoë looked up and the women exchanged smiles. "Oh, Zoë, that's wonderful!"

"What? What? A little help here?" Mal demanded. His headache was coming back.

"Mal, she's pregnant."

The headache hit full stride.

.*. .*. .*.

"I promised Wash we'd all talk about this together," Zoë stalled.

"Get him out of bed then!" Mal ordered.

"That's all right, Captain," Wash said from the doorway. "I'm up. Zoë, you told him?"

"Actually, I didn't."

"I guessed," Inara confessed with a smile. "She's got that glow."

"The 'I just spent the last half hour vomiting' glow?" Zoe asked.

Wash smiled. "It does give you away, honey."

"So… y'all are pregnant?" Mal asked.

"Technically, it's just Zoë," Wash commented from the kitchen.

"As in… baby?"

"That's generally what happens," Inara said with a teasing smirk.

"Come on, sir," Zoë said. "You must have known we've been thinking on it for some time."

"Well, ya, but… pregnant? Now?"

"Careful Mal, you're gonna reopen that crack in your head," Wash said, then he kissed his glowingly pregnant wife and sat down next to her.

"How long has it been?" Inara asked.

"Almost three months," Zoë said. "We wanted to give it a little time to make sure before we told anyone."

"Three months," Mal repeated.

"Ya, that's three of nine," Wash displayed the appropriate number of fingers. "Six to go. Then – hey! Baby! Diapers, spit up, no sleep…" His face lit up in a joyful smile at the thought of his future hardships.

Mal ignored Wash as the idea sank in. He turned to Zoë. "Why the hell did you go on the job?"

"It was supposed to be an easy grab-the-dough-and-go. Wasn't even illegal cargo."

"But with the Alliance all over the place?"

"It worked out fine."

"Barely." Mal found himself starting in on a lecture. "Zoë, you need to put some thought into this –"

"We have thought on it," Zoë interrupted, then she and Wash shared a long silent look which Mal couldn't decipher at all. He wasn't used to that. Wash and Zoë had their private moments, no doubt about that, but Mal always knew what was on Zoë's mind. Suddenly he understood how the unspoken conversations he and Zoë had on a near daily basis might bother her husband.

"It won't help anything to wait," Wash said in a low voice.

Zoë nodded. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then looked at Mal. "Captain. We didn't want to say anything until your head was all better."

"My head will get by just fine. You say what you need."

"It's just all the stuff that's been happening the past months... and this last job, should have been a cake walk." Zoë looked to Wash for support. He answered by clutching her hand. "Babies ain't born easy in my family –"

"You're leavin'," Mal guessed.

"It's just until the baby is born. A quiet and peaceful place, with good med facilities. Lay up a bit." Zoë sounded like she was still trying to convince herself. "I spent a lot of time wrestlin' with this, and I think it's the way it has to go."

Mal put his head down. Then he pushed his chair back and walked to the kitchen. He forgot to take his mug with him to provide an excuse, so he ended up just staring at the tea pot.

Jayne came stumbling into the tense quiet and fell into a seat on the table. He looked like he'd been up late drinking – maybe something he had hidden away in his bunk. It took him a minute to focus his red eyes and take in the other folk in the room.

"What's goin' on?" he asked.

Wash took on the job of answering, short and to the point. "Zoë's pregnant. We're thinking of leaving."

"Oh," Jayne said stupidly, then he stared at the table for a second and thought about it. "Can I have your bunk?"

"Captain ain't said yes yet," Zoë replied, then glanced toward Mal.

She shouldn't have to ask him this, Mal realized. It's her right to move on with life, to leave the death and despair of the war behind. Who was he to hold her back, keep her in a bad place just because he can't get himself out of it?

"Course I'm saying yes," Mal finally said, returning Zoë's look and trying to force a smile. "You take all the time you want."

Zoë turned to Wash for a hug and kiss. Mal watched them celebrate, his face expressionless because he couldn't hold that smile. He returned to his chair.

"You two got enough money?" he asked softly.

"We've been setting some aside, just in case." Wash replied. "We'll be okay."

"You put any thought into where you're goin'?"

"Barnard's world," Wash said. "I got a cousin there. It's got good med facilities, but not much Alliance presence. Good climate too. Nice place for my woman to get some rest, and we're less than a day from it."

"Inara," Mal said, "Barnard would be a good place for you to find a charter back to Patton. There's a refueling station in orbit that gets a lot of traffic."

Wash and Zoë looked to Inara in surprise.

"Oh – yes, it would be a good place," Inara answered Mal.

"Inara, you're leaving now?" Wash asked. Zoë swore under her breath.

Mal stood up. "Yup, our companion has got herself a proper sit-u-ation. Wash, if you'd set our course. I got some work to do." Mal set his mug in the galley and left.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal kept his feet moving as he walked down the corridor toward the engine room, but it wasn't easy. His headache had spread and gotten a kind of floaty edge to it, like he'd been smoking something that proper responsible captains don't smoke. He stopped where the corridor split off toward the cargo bay, holding the bulkhead as his sense of balance did a long slow circle. Wasn't like he'd never hit his head before, but this one definitely got a tender spot. Of course, the news that he had three people leaving his ship tomorrow didn't help any.

As he waited for up to become up again, Mal noticed two pairs of feet stretched out on the deck just inside the doorway of the engine room. He smiled. It pleased him to see Kaylee finding some company. The girl deserved all the affection she could get.

"No, you can't be serious!" he heard her say in a teasing tone.

"Really," Simon replied. "We had a few weeks between terms, and anyone who could get enough people to sign up for a class could teach it. And that was one of the classes."

"But… a' artichoke? Who cares how ya eat it?"

"Manners are very important to a top surgeon. You have to be funded, which means wining and dining very important people."

"Again I'm askin'... a' artichoke?"

"That was just the title, the gimmick to the class. It actually covered many aspects of proper manners for Core high society."

"Like eatin' a' artichoke in polite company?"

"Yes," he admitted with a laugh. "That was covered."

"Now I gotta be on the outlook for one so as I can watch you eat it like a gentleman."

Simon laughed, and Mal heard a soft kiss. This had now gone beyond what he had any business eavesdropping on; actually, this was something he ought'a be going in there and putting a stop to, or three months from now he could have Simon and Kaylee asking to be let off on some safe, comfy world.

But Mal stayed put. His head wasn't quite settled and, despite himself, he liked to hear Kaylee being happy.

"Get two of them," Simon was saying. "I'll teach you how to cope with an artichoke too."

"Really?"

"You never know when you might find yourself at a vital hospital fundraiser, served a very troubling appetizer while discussing the necessities of trauma surgery with a parliament member's top assistant."

"I would do you proud, Simon Tam."

Mal smiled again. He hadn't realized Kaylee and Simon had gotten so close. He'd definitely have to put a stop to it. Eventually.

"I know you would, Kaylee."

"You think me and you'll ever get settled in the Core? Really?"

"I know we will. Someday."

Mal's smile faded.

"But what about River?"

A long silence followed Kaylee's question. "I'll find somewhere safe for her, someday," Simon finally said. "I'll do everything I can. But I'm not sure how far I can take her."

"You done so much," Kaylee said. "But you got to live your own life too. You deserve that."

"I do miss Osiris. It was good there. If I could just take you back with me, it'd be perfect."

"Don't tell the captain, but I would like to see what it's like in the Core. I know everyone says bad stuff about the Alliance, but I'd like to see for myself, ya know? And be settled somewhere, not runnin' around all the time gettin' chased by just about everybody."

"It is best to judge things for yourself, and you can't do that if you don't experience all the options. Being a common criminal on the rim is not the only way to live life."

Mal turned away before he could hear any more; he made it to top of the stairway and sat down heavily. Kaylee and Simon, a happy high class couple in the Core? Of course Simon belonged there, but Kaylee? Mal sighed. The girl deserved more comfort and stability than she could get on this ship; that was the hard truth. Simon could give it to her. He'd have to give up on his sister, though, and Mal couldn't accept that the doctor would really do that. No way the Allance would take Dr. Tam back, in any case.

Mal started to rise, but plopped back down as a lance of singing heat cut through his head. Damned concussion. He held his hands over his face until his vision began to clear again.

As the ache subsided, he felt a wave of rage rush up in him. Simon had taken on more than his share of risk and loss to rescue and protect his little sister, but ould that boy mean to abandon her now? And Kaylee, talking about the Alliance like that? Like she wanted to be part of it? Mal wanted to go back in there and give them both a sharp slap or two. He actually stood up and took a step toward the engine room before he stopped himself.

Idiot! the word rang in his mind, sounding like a voice through headphones with the volume up way too loud. It applied though – was he really thinking of doing violence on his own crew? Had he fallen that far?

Those two were just talking fanciful. It wasn't fair for him to be judging them based on something he wasn't meant to have heard. He forced himself to turn back toward the cargo bay.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal sat with his feet dangling over the edge of the catwalk. His arms were hooked over the lower bars of the railing, his eyes focused somewhere beyond the walls of the bay.

"Am I interrupting?"

Mal pulled his attention back to the here and now. "Not at all, Shepherd."

"You look as if you're carrying a heavy load, son."

"I got nothin' on my back."

"That so?" Book settled down next to Mal.

"It is."

"I hear tell Zoë and Wash have formed some plans of late."

"They have at that."

They sat silently for a moment before Mal continued. "It's a good thing for them."

"Yes. There is joy in new life."

"Bouncing bundles of it."

"You don't seem joyful."

Mal hesitated before answering. "I am happy for them, Shepherd."

"But…?"

"You ever get the feelin' that stuff ain't right?"

"How do you mean?"

"Like… like everything got shook up, and ain't what it's supposed to be?"

"Can't say as I have." Book studied the Mal. "Captain, it's not surprising you feel off. You can't be happy to lose Zoë and Wash. And Inara as well."

"Guess I'll get by."

"Living is about more than getting by."

"Is for some."

"Could be for you. That's something you have control of."

"How you figure that?"

"Mal, you need to think about the life you're creating on this ship. Of course people won't want to stay with you if you let things go to hell the way you have."

Mal looked at Book in surprise. "Pardon me?"

"Taking jobs with folk you have no idea about. Letting your rage rule you. Playing the tyrant. I don't know if you've noticed, Captain, that you have some special people on this ship. But they're not stupid. You have to earn their trust, and you haven't done so well with that."

"What exactly are you tellin' me Shepherd?"

"I'm telling you to get your house in order, and don't be waiting for someone else to do it for you. Out here in the black you're all you got. There's no one for you to be leanin' on."

"How about all those special people on my crew?"

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's not so many as there used to be. As I said, they aren't stupid. They know a sinking ship when they see one, and they won't let you drag them down."

Mal opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't think of a thing to say. He looked down into the cargo bay, thinking on the bitter truth in the preacher's words.

Book stood up and Mal turned to watch him leave, wanting to say something, to explain that things weren't really so bad. He'd even been optimistic lately, for chrissake. His gaze passed the hatch to Inara's shuttle, then returned there to linger.

Out here in the black you're all you got.

He didn't want to believe that.

---

Chapter 6.

The shuttle's hatch opened and Inara loooked out. For a short second, she gaped, plainly surprised that a knock had announced Mal's arrival.

"Captain," she finally said, collecting herself.

Mal fidgeted, not sure where to put his hands. He wasn't used to standing outside Inara's door like some nervous suitor, not sure if he'd be welcome.

"Just wanted to tell you," he said, resorting to business talk, "we're dockin' at the refuelin' station tomorrow. 9 AM ship time, early afternoon local."

"Oh - thank you."

When he just stood there, not turning away, she smiled and stepped back. "Would you like to come in?"

He shrugged, like the idea hadn't even occurred to him. "Sure."

He stopped just inside the hatch. The sofa was piled with clothes in various states of folding and the table was stacked with candles and knick-knacks. Inara cleared half of the sofa.

"Please, have a seat," she invited with a gesture.

"Need help with the packin'?" he asked as he sat down.

"No thanks, it's really not that much. I'll have it all cleaned out for whoever comes in next."

"Don't have a new renter lined up. Not many would want to take up with us right now, seein' as how things are."

"It can be difficult running a business from this ship," she said with a smile. At this point, Mal wasn't seeing the humor in that. He found himself studying the pattern on the rug under the table, not sure how to break the silence that followed.

Finally Inara sighed. "Mal – I'm sorry about Zoë and Wash leaving." Mal looked up at her, then he leaned forward and picked up an hourglass from the table, turning it in his hands. "That can't be easy for you," she continued, "losing Zoë."

"No. No, it's not."

Inara seemed to have decided it was his turn to carry on the conversation, but he still didn't know where to start. She gave up the wait fairly quickly, after an awkward half minute she went to a cabinet, returning with half full bottle and two small glasses.

"I happen to have an open bottle of whiskey," she explained. "It's not Kaylee's engine brew, but it does need to be finished off, if you can stomach it."

It was a kind comparison – the whiskey was obviously several grades above Kaylee's homebrew. "A little drink would be welcome," he said.

Inara filled the glasses. "There's no cattle to drink to this time."

Mal smiled at the memory. They tapped their glasses together without a spoken toast, and Inara sipped while Mal tossed his drink back.

"That bad?"

"Not my best day." He refilled his glass.

"Take it easy, Mal."

"What's the point?"

"The point is, there's a lot to be done. Getting drunk doesn't solve anything."

He drained his glass again. "You didn't say the drink would come with a lecture."

"Nor did I invite you in just so you could get inebriated."

"I ain't inebriated." Mal filled his glass again.

"Yet. I have a lot to do before morning, it'll be difficult to finish if I have to pamper a moody drunk."

"Ain't that what you do, pretty much?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I do. Or I would if I had a little free time in between the insults said moody drunk is constantly flinging at me."

Mal started to reply, then sighed and set his full glass back on the table. "It's been a very… trying day."

"I understand. But I'm not here for you to vent your frustrations on. Even if you were a client, I wouldn't accept that."

"Agreed. You shouldn't allow it." They sat silently again. Mal felt his head begin to swim as the whiskey worked in him. He relaxed back on the sofa.

"Inara, you noticed anything weird lately?"

"Besides you?"

"I seem weird?"

"You seem angry. And paranoid."

"How 'bout everybody else?"

"What do you mean?"

Mal didn't know how to explain. "Never mind." It was better he left it alone anyhow, wouldn't want to sound paranoid. He picked up his glass and sipped it. "So how bout that new situation of yours?" The question came out sounding more like an accusation than he had intended.

"What about it?"

"Well, what kind of situation is it?"

"Do we really need to talk about this?"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't much like your mood."

"What, you scared of me?" He smiled a challenge, expecting her to snap back at him. She didn't.

"Sometimes I am."

Mal rubbed his hands together, touching the fading bruises on his right knuckles. "You shouldn't be." The words came out bitter.

"Why are you so angry?" she asked.

"You been payin' attention lately?"

"Mal, Zoë's not leaving forever."

"You think not?"

"Of course. They told you they'd be back." Her face relaxed into a smile. "With an addition."

"Inara, this boat ain't no place for a babe. Ain't no place for a couple startin' out, really. Not if they aim to have a life."

"Being on Serenity is a life."

"You're leavin'." Mal sipped his drink again. "No, this ain't a life. Serenity. Still Serenity. Zoë's gettin' out. She's got Wash and he's pullin' her out. It's good for her to go. Move on."

"But you'll miss her."

Mal took a breath to speak, then stopped. He sat still for a spell, nursing his drink.

"Don't know how I'll do anything, without Zoë at my back." He finally said. "I've had her with me since the beginning of the war, and I was a different person back then. It's like I never was without her."

"Mal, maybe this is a chance for you to get out too."

He frowned at her. "Do me a favor and don't be blowin' any sunshine my way."

"Maybe it's time for you to build your own life. When you and Zoë are together, all those memories, all those horrible things that happened in the war, are with you. You can't escape them. I can see it, like a weight hanging on both of you."

He finished his third drink and leaned forward to refill his glass, but she took it from him, set it down, and held his hand in both of hers. "You can't stay in this place forever Mal. You have to move forward too."

"Like you are?" She didn't answer him. "What do you care?" he asked.

It was Inara's turn to hesitate. She looked down at his hand. "Mal, you can be… exasperating." She smiled, then laughed. "OK, you can be a pain the ass, you know that." She took a breath and looked him in the eye. "But you're a good man." She looked down again and began working her thumbs into his palm. Knots in his hand let go, and the warmth of her fingers spread up into his arm. He let his head fall back on the sofa, closed his eyes, and felt the liquor swirl through him.

"I wish you would stop punishing yourself," she told him. "You don't deserve it."

"How d'ya know wha' I deserve?"

"I'm a trained Companion, remember. I read people."

"You readin' me?"

"Yes. You care very much about your crew. We care about you too."

"We?" Mal opened his eyes to look at her.

"Of course."

"This here a Companion thing?" He glanced down at his hand in hers.

"Well, yes." She grinned at him. Mal had never seen Inara grin like that before. Wasn't anythign plastic about it; it was infectious. He returned her smile.

"I'm in a state to be easily taken 'vantage of, ya know."

"I would never do such a thing. There are rules."

"Wha'? A Companion can't take 'vantage of a shi'-faced, petty, thievin'…"

"Now cut it out. That's my captain you're talking about."

Mal laughed at this and closed his eyes again. He was feeling more than a little blurry. Inara massaged his hand silently for a while, then set it down gently and reached for his other hand. Barely above a whisper, he asked her, "How'm I gonna get by without Zoë?"

Inara paused, then set down his hand. She slid closer to him and pulled his head onto her shoulder. Mal's arms wrapped around her waist, and he felt her warm body mold comfortingly to his, one arm behind him, across his shoulders, the other stroking his hair and neck.

"Do you have to leave now?" he asked her, so quietly he thought she might not hear him. Inara didn't respond at first, but then she gently brushed his hair back from his forehead and planted a kiss there.

"You're going be just fine, Malcolm Reynolds," she said, just as softly. He looked up at her, and threaded his fingers into her hair. Without planning it, he pulled her to him and his mouth closed on hers.

The reaction was immediate. Inara returned his kiss eagerly and her body moved to fit tighter against his. A rush of pent up lust went to his head with the drink, and he reached past her to shove her piled belongings onto the floor. He pushed her onto her back across the sofa so he could stretch out over her. The soft curves of her body pressed against him, releasing a wave of heat that seared him, took his breath away. He felt her fingers twisting in his hair, her mouth opening to his.

He slid one hand to her breast, and she arched against him. His other hand cupped the back of her neck and he kissed her hard, almost desperately. She pushed his suspenders over his shoulders, then pulled open his shirt and wrapped her arms around his waist, fingers dancing on the scars she found on his torso.

He moved to her neck, finally, after nearly a year, tasting the smooth skin there. He heard her breath catch as he pushed the shoulder of her robe aside and his mouth traveled along her collarbone.

"Mal," she gasped. He cut her off with another deep kiss, but she used both hands to push his face away from hers. "The bed…" she told him.

"No. Right here." Too many had had her in that bed, he didn't want to be one of those. She was still holding his jaw, looking up at him with dark eyes, lips swollen from kissing. He took her hands away from his face and pinned them together above her head, both of her wrists in one of his hands. With his other hand he lifted her chin and his mouth closed on hers again. She moaned into his mouth as he reached down, pulled up her skirt, and briefly stroked his thumb between her legs. The heat in him was unbearable, uncontrollable. He was kissing her so hard he tasted blood, and wasn't sure if it was his or hers. She lifted her legs to help him pull her silk panties off, then he opened his pants.

His knees pushed hers apart and his hips slid between her thighs. He pulled his mouth away from hers and laid his cheek against the side of her forehead. "Oh god, Mal," she panted in his ear. He pressed against her, then he was inside her.

Her body lifted to his, tilting up against him, and her legs folded around his hips. He let go of her wrists and wrapped one arm around her waist, his other hand in her hair holding her forehead against his cheek. He began to move inside her, slowly. She moved with him, her hands finding their way down his back. He heard himself saying, "Inara, please…" but he wasn't sure what he was asking for. More than this. He wanted more of her than this.

Her lips tickled his throat, whispering his name over and over against his skin as he sped up. He felt her hands slide inside the back of his pants, pressing him into her. "Now, Mal, now…" A few more strokes and Mal groaned and poured himself into her.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal was seated in a comfortable chair in an office. His gun was gone and he felt groggy, but his hands weren't bound, and no one was threatening him. There was a Fed sitting behind the desk; Mal couldn't make out his face. Everything looked fuzzy in the dusty blue light that streamed in through the windows to his left.

Mal knew the Fed in the office was a dream. He was still half awake and could feel Inara laying beneath him, softly kissing his neck.

"You met with a man on the station. What did you discuss?" the Fed asked.

"You worried about me gettin' hired to move some seafood?" Mal asked. It was difficult to get his lips to move. "It's good to know the Alliance is on top of all this awful crime."

Mal dimly felt his clothes sliding off of his body; she was undressing him. He felt a rush of shame. This amazing women - he had taken her on a sofa without bothering to undress either of them fully, like a rutting animal. He'd treated her like a whore.

"It's not your place to ask, but to answer. What did you discuss with him?"

"Maybe it'd help if you explained." Mal said. "I'm a li'l curious –"

"Sergeant Reynolds. I are not interested in your curiosity. The organization that hired you is involved in more than food. And if you're not aware of that than you're a bigger idiot than we thought."

"A possibility you should consider."

"What did you talk to him about?"

"He paid me for my cargo."

"And the cargo was food."

"Yeah."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"Who gave you the job?"

"There was nothin' illegal. A man named Ricky hired me to ship some Seafood Delights. On my honor," Mal raised his right hand, "that's all there is to it."

Mal felt Inara take his raised hand and he opened his eyes. Her soft eyes met his with a smile and his shame melted away. It was all okay. The shuttle's warm lighting and the heady scent of incense embraced him, and the harsh blueness of the dream faded away. She pulled him to his feet and guided him across the shuttle to her bed, pulling him down into her arms. He worked a hand into her hair and tried to lift his mouth to hers. Do it right this time, he thought. But his head was too heavy. He let his cheek rest on her shoulder as his eyes fell shut.

"Sergeant, I know that isn't all. Our records tell of a few encounters with you and your ship: Firefly class transport Serenity. You are clearly nothing more than a gnat on the ass of the Alliance, but I doubt you're really that stupid."

"You'd be surprised." Mal rubbed his upper left arm with his right hand. The muscle was sore there.

"Let me be clear." The man leaned forward and the fuzzy blue light fell across one side of his face. "We will find out what you're up to. But you can save us time and expense as well as avoiding discomfort for yourself by telling me now."

"Gonna beat it out'a me? Gonna lock me up like ya did after the war?" Mal glanced at his sleeve; there was a small blood stain, looking black in the blue light. In the middle of it, a little hole in the fabric, about the size of a tranq gun dart.

The Fed settled back into the shadows. "Many regrettable things happened during and after the war which were beyond our control. The Alliance would never resort to torture; that would be against the Peacetime Accords. But we will find out what you know."

"How's that?"

"Telling the truth is the right thing to do. You are a righteous man, are you not?"

"Uh… sure. But I don't know anythin'."

"We'll see about that."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal woke with a dull ache in his head, which pulsed through his skull before focusing on the tender spot at the top of his spine. The dream faded away before he could place it, leaving only a faint high-pitched buzzing in his ears.

Must remember to talk to Kaylee about that, he thought. Could be something odd with the engine. He put a hand to his forehead, rolled onto his side and felt silky sheets under his cheek. Wait … silky?

He opened his eyes. Dark curtains, warm soft lighting. "Huh," he grunted.

"Good morning Captain." Inara said brightly. She was sitting on the sofa, wrapping up her tea set and packing it in a dark wooden box.

"It mornin' already?" he asked, feeling more than a bit awkward.

"Yes, we'll be reaching Barnard's World in two hours. I have a lot of packing to do."

"You're leavin'?"

"Yes." She gave him a confused look. "You knew that."

Mal forced himself to sit up, squinting as his headache pulsed a few more times, then thankfully settled into the background. He saw his clothes folded neatly next to the bed

"Did you sleep well?" Inara asked.

Blue, he could remember something blue, but he couldn't get a hold of it. "I believe I did."

There was a long silence; Inara was quite focused on her packing. Finally, Mal swung his legs over the side of the bed and began to dress. She didn't look up at him.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked as he buttoned his shirt.

She still didn't look away from her packing. "Not at all."

Mal tucked in his shirt and pulled his boots on, then sat for a second, at a loss. "I guess I should get ready for landing." He finally said. "Captainy things to do, you know."

"Of course." She was intent on closing up the wooden box.

Mal stood and walked to the door, but he paused there. "Look, uh … about last night."

"Yes?" she prompted.

"I, um… I was in a bad place. You helped. A lot."

"I'm glad. It's so nice to part on friendly terms, don't you think?" She finally looked at him, favoring him with a lovely smile, then began to pack the collection of candles on the table into another box. She didn't seem to notice his puzzled expression.

Mal looked at the door for a second, then back at Inara. "It was a little more than friendly terms, Inara."

"Yes Mal," she admonished, that smile so warm and distant, "it was sex."

"But…" Mal tucked his thumbs in his belt, leaned against the wall beside him, and continued sheepishly. "It wasn't just that. Talkin' to you, and... well, last night you seemed, I dunno, so real."

She paused and looked him full in the eye, "Meaning that I usually don't?"

"I don't mean that. Look, I just mean…"

"It's alright, Mal, you don't need to thank me. It's what I do. I'm very good at it."

He felt something twist in his stomach. "Very good at what?"

She looked up again with that damned smile. "Mal, you've never understood. Being a Campanion is about more than the physical act of sex."

"Oh?"

"That's the difference between a Campanion and a whore." She said the last word archly. "A Companion knows how to be emotionally comforting."

"So you're sayin' last night, all that… those were your fancy… Companion wiles?" Mal started to turn angry but then he buried it down and snorted. "The ones that earn you the big bucks?"

"Mm-hmm," she laughed coyly. "Of course. What else would it be?" The last candle packed, she closed the box and set it down on the floor.

"Well then. How much do I owe ya?" Mal folded his arms in front of him, not sure whether he ought to take offense at her attitude or feel embarrassed at his own.

"Oh, it's on me," Inara's laugh positively tinkled, but she managed to stifle it as Mal scowled. She continued more seriously, "Mal, I'm glad to help you out. It's the least I can do." She stood up and started pulling down fabric from the wall behind the sofa. "This past year I've expanded my client base extensively. And not just the clients I've serviced." She paused and threw a sweeping glance over her shoulder at him, eyes flicking up and down, then she went on, "but also those I've screened. Military and business contacts within the Alliance who travel, and come to Patton often. I'll be able to set up my own place there and enough clients will pass through to support me quite well." She gathered the fabric in her arms, folding it loosely. "I could never have had this kind of job security without you. All for the very affordable monthly rent on this shuttle." She glanced fondly about, then added in a conspiratorial whisper, "and even a few odd petty thieving adventures thrown in." Her smile turned just a little smug as she watched his reaction to that. "So you see, I really felt I owed you."

Mal chewed his tongue for a few seconds. "And now we're all square."

"Yes." Her gracious smile returned, and she placed the folded curtain in a large black container. "It's so satisfying when I can put my training to good use, to bring peace of mind to those in need."

Mal flashed a tight smile. "Must be." She turned her back to him, but he didn't leave yet. He watched her unpin the next curtain; when she finished taking it down she glanced up as if she didn't expect him to still be there.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? Book? I noticed you two seem a bit at odds lately. I'd be glad to help you sort through it." Her smile took on a challenging edge.

Mal clenched his jaw. "No thanks, I think I can handle it." He looked around the shuttle. All the candles and artwork were packed. The grated metal walls of the shuttle were half bared, and harsh white light poured out from the cockpit as Inara removed the curtain from the doorway.

"I guess I won't ever be calling you whore again," he said softly.

"No, you won't," she answered with her back to him.

---

Chapter 7.

Mal stopped in the corridor to make sure his shirt was tucked in straight. He wasn't looking forward seeing the rest of the crew; it wasn't possible that no one had noticed where he spent the night, and of course they were just waiting to have their say about it.

He turned back toward the galley and nearly tripped over River. She was sitting with her back against the bulkhead, staring up at him with sad eyes. He must have overlooked her when he first came up the stairs; as odd as the girl's talents were, he didn't recall her being able to appear out of nowhere.

Her mouth began to move, forming words without sound.

"Uh… what was that?" Mal asked.

She kept talking silently, and a tear slid down her cheek.

Mal wiggled a fingertip in his ear, but it didn't help. "You need to actually speak," he told her. "As in, use sound."

River pressed her lips together in frustration, and just looked at him with her sad eyes.

"River, there you are!" Simon said from the dining room. He stepped through the hatch, but stopped when he noticed Mal. "Oh. Good morning, Captain."

Mal straightened, ready to defend the direction he was coming from – clearly, he hadn't just left his own bunk. But there was no hidden ridicule in Simon's voice. In fact, he seemed eager to avoid conversation; he took River's arm and pulled her to her feet.

"She needs her medication," he murmured.

River let Simon guide her down the corridor toward the infirmary, but she stared over her shoulder at Mal the whole time. As the Tams turned the corner, Mal thought he heard her whisper: She cares.

Mal stared after River for a long moment, then he shook his head, uttering dismissively, "Crazy girl." He checked his shirt and his fly one last time, took a deep breath, and walked into the lion's den.

Kaylee, Jayne, and Book were sitting at the dining table, already at breakfast. Jayne whispered and nudged Kaylee as soon as he saw Mal come in, and Kaylee hopped up. She trotted into the kitchen to top off her mug while Mal poured one for himself, and she chucked him on the shoulder.

"Nice goin'," she whispered with a big grin.

"Nice goin' what?" Mal asked belligerently. He glanced toward the table – Book kept eating, but with his head slightly cocked to the side so he could hear. Jayne turned around in his seat so as not to miss a thing.

"You know!" Kaylee arched a brow and tilted her head towards the hatch Mal had just entered. The one that came in from the cargo bay, and Inara's shuttle.

"Now I am sayin' this once," Mal said in a loud voice, heading to the table with Kaylee in tow, "so all ya listen up ..."

"Yes Mal?" Wash asked as he walked in with Zoë. "Important announcement. Something about crew relations?"

"Wash. Honey." Zoë shook her head slightly.

Mal gave Wash a drop-dead stare as the couple passed by him, heading toward the kettle. Then he continued having his say.

"I need y'all to just relax with the commentary, dŏng ma? No 'nice goin.' No 'crew relations.' Nothin' of the kind."

"Come on, Mal," Jayne said. "You 'spect us to believe you spent Inara's last night aboard Serenity in her shuttle, all night, and nothin' happened?"

"That is exactly what I expect you to believe," Mal said as he sat down.

Jayne snorted. "You two been so tens-ual with the sex'sion it's makin' my own balls turn blue."

Mal fixed Jayne with his best swallow-your-tongue-and-choke-to-death stare.

"Come on," Jayne continued. "No way you'd let her leave without tryin' something. Everybody knows it." He turned back to his vittles. "Anyone with eyes would be into Inara. And for some reason she seems to be, I dunno, in-terested in you."

"That so?" Mal looked around at all the smiling faces and downturned eyes. "Perhaps y'all been a little mistaken about that." He huddled around his mug gloomily, then took a sip to avoid the incredulous stares.

Jayne stopped shoveling tan colored mush from his plate into his mouth, thankfully swallowing it down before his mouth fell open. "What? You tellin' me you struck out?"

"Gorram it, can we get some real damn coffee once in a while?" Mal slammed his mug down and turned to Jayne. "No. I did not 'strike out.' I was not 'at bat'."

"The captain's an honorable man," Book chimed in for the first time. "I'm sure he would never try to form improper relations with anyone on his ship." He ended with a questioning look at Mal.

Mal turned his glare on Book. "I would thank y'all kindly for minding your own business for once," he said pointedly, then he slid his chair back. "How long till we get in, Wash?"

"Little over an hour till we drop Inara at the refueling station, then head into atmo."

"You two all packed and ready to go?"

"Yes sir," Zoë replied. She, at least, was all business and no teasing.

"Good."

Mal took his mug and headed to the cargo bay. As he walked out the hatch, he heard Kaylee ask Jayne, "What does 'struck out' mean?"

"Means he got de-nied."

"No way! You really think so?"

"Course. Man is plainly lackin' in the satisfaction department."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal opened the weapons locker. Ammo wasn't top on the list of items that needed inventory, but it did fit his mood. People attacking him on the space station was something he was used to, but the things happening on this ship were beyond him. Annoying words from Jayne, sure. But Zoë and Wash leaving so quickly, and apparently without a regret? Kaylee and Simon talking like they had yesterday? And Book, telling him his crew was leaving him out of nothing more than good sense?

Then there was Inara. Mal shook his head, he didn't want to think about that. But he could still feel her mouth against his neck, repeating his name, and her hands…

He slammed the locker door shut and opened the next one over. He couldn't believe he was so gorramn stupid. He'd always known what the woman was and shouldn't have set himself up like that, shouldn't have gone to talk to her when he was down, and given her the chance to play him. …the clients I've serviced, she'd said, looking him up and down. That look had cut through him, made him ache in a way he thought he wasn't capable of anymore. It's so satisfying when I can put my training to good use…

He tried to distract himself by sorting scattered ammo into their proper boxes, but his mind wouldn't stay put. He thought over all the trouble he seemed so good at finding, like letting himself get jumped by a couple of Fed goons, probably untrained local recruits, too. Taking a job from a virtual unknown like he hadn't learned his lesson from Niska. Getting in fights... Mal stopped himself; it wasn't his way to be telling lies in his own head. That was no fight. What happened on New Melbourne was him being a crazy bastard and lashing out at an innocent. The kid in the gun shop was doing his job like his elders taught him, not too different from the boy Mal himself had been at one time. That boy didn't deserve a broken face because those who reared him were fools.

Mal leaned against the locker and rubbed his neck; he still had a sore head. He grimaced as a sharp jolt ran through his cranium, accompanied by a buzzing sound that quickly faded into the background again.

He straightened, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed River, sitting on the stairs watching him.

"How long you been there?" he asked.

"Followed you down. But I didn't see us walk by." She glanced back through the hatch, toward the common room outside the infirmary. No one was there.

Mal cast her a doubtful look and turned back to the locker.

"Walls are wearing thin," she said. "Getting easier. Easier for me, I mean."

"Uh-huh," Mal said, his back to her as he continued his sorting. "Be careful with the walkin' through walls. You got enough talents as it is."

"You can hear me?" River asked, her voice rising in excitement. "Really?"

Mal whinced and turned back to her. "Loud and clear, poppet. Just take it easy with the shrill, all right? Some of us have had head trauma lately."

River calmed herself with a visible effort and then gave him an intensely serious look. "You have no idea."

"I guess not. No offense, but why don't you go play dress up with Kaylee?"

"No time. Listen: imagination is important. Pay attention to imagined things. They tell the truth."

"You learn a lot of truths that way, do ya?" Mal asked, then he turned his attention back to the locker. He moved past the half assembled boxes of shells in favor of the guns, pulling out a rifle and cracking it open.

"Yes," she said. "Dreams too. I saw your dream."

"What dream is that?" He checked the bore – shiny clean.

"The questions. You didn't know the answers. Still don't."

"Never was good at tests." He snapped the gun back together; it made a satisfying sound. Hard and cold.

"Not a dream. A memory. Memorys look blue a lot of the time."

That reminded Mal of something, but he couldn't place it.

"Do you hear it?" she whispered, then her voice rose several pitches. "Buzzzzzz…"

Mal turned to her, suddenly very interested. "What did you say?"

"Captain?" Book called through the hatch to the passenger dorm.

River looked toward Book, then leaned back against the stairs. Softly she began to chant: "Once upon a time when pigs spoke rhyme …"

"Do you have a minute?" Book asked as he entered the bay.

"Hang on." Mal held a palm up to Book as continued watching River.

"…and monkeys chewed tobacco…" She stood up and began hopping down the stairs in time with her rhyming, "…and hens took snuff to make them tough…" Her voice filled the bay. "…and ducks went quack, quack, quack-O!" She landed on the deck with a light balletic hop. "Too many distractions!" she finished, and she skipped toward the dormitory.

"Sorry, Shepherd," Mal said, watching her disappear. "I thought there was somethin' important for me to hear in all that. You get anything?"

"Besides… quack-o?" Book asked.

Mal shrugged.

"What were you hoping to hear?" Book asked.

"She seemed to know something…"

"About what?"

"Do you hear that?" Mal asked.

Book tipped his head, then gave Mal a questioning look.

"Never mind." Mal shook his head. "What can I help you with?"

"I thought I ought to let you know. I've been talking to Wash about the situation on Barnard. I think I can be of use there."

"What kind of use?"

"Helpin' out people who want the aid."

Mal realized he was still holding the rifle from the gun locker. He turned to put it back. "So you're gettin' off too?"

"I feel my stay here has been overlong."

"Shepherd, if this about what happened back on New Melbourne –"

"There's more to it than that Captain. I think you know what I mean."

Mal shut the locker and turned back to Book. "This here is a conversation I don't need to have," he said angrily. "Get your stuff packed and get the hell off my ship if that's what you want."

He passed the preacher and climbed the steps to the engine room. To his relief, Book had nothing else to say.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal turned in a slow circle, feeling like he was lost. But it wasn't himself he couldn't find, it was the source of that damned noise.

"Cap'n?" Kaylee came down the steps into the engine room, studying him curiously.

"Hey, Kaylee."

"Wha'cha doin'?"

"Just wonderin' if she's turning like usual."

"Sure. Not a thing wrong with her."

"But… do you hear that?" Mal waved a hand, motioning at the general area over his head.

Kaylee listened. "Hear what?"

Mal walked around to the other side of the room, cocking his head to the side. "It's a buzzing. High pitched like."

Kaylee listened for a minute. "I don't hear nothin'."

"Kinda… electrical."

Kaylee shrugged.

"Huh. Well, it don't seem louder here than anywhere else." He thought about it, then smiled, feeling a bit silly. "Maybe it's just something left over from gettin' my bell rung by the Feds."

"I hope not, Captain. Your head still hurtin'?" Kaylee looked concerned.

"No, I'm fine now," Mal lied. "Don't you worry about me." He took one more listen around the room. "Still, s'mighty odd."

"Maybe you should talk to Simon?"

"No need to trouble him. Guess I'm just imaginin' things."

"I'll check over the 'lectrical system, just in case."

"Thanks. It would put my mind at ease."

Mal stopped at the hatchway. This was one of those times he ought to keep his mouth shut and leave other people's business to themselves, but the words were coming out before he could stop them.

"Kaylee," he said, "you ever curious about livin' in the Core?"

His question took her by surprise; it was a long silence before she put together a reply, though he didn't really need to hear it. He could see the answer in her face right away.

"Well, I guess I just… I never seen what it's like there. Big cities with lots of lights, and fancy shows and good food. I wouldn't mind seein' it sometime." She looked up at Mal and guilt washed over her face. "Not now though! Not for a long time!"

Mal nodded. "Yeah, I figured."

"I'm sorry Cap'n. I like it here, I really do…"

"That's all right, Kaylee. It's only natural you should wonder what life is like other places."

Another throb pulsed in his head. Mal tried not to react to it, but Kaylee saw.

"Cap'n, you're not okay. Why don'cha go see Simon?"

He couldn't deny it. "I will li'l Kaylee, first chance I get."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara was leaving her empty shuttle as Mal stepped down onto the catwalk. She turned to him with a smile and he couldn't avoid going to join her. After all, he didn't want to look like he was pouting. Didn't want to look like it'd been a big deal.

"All ready to go?" he asked.

"I've arranged for my things to be picked up. Shouldn't take long to be rid of me." She seemed to think that was a funny thing to say.

Mal turned to look down into the bay. The crew was assembling to say goodbye as Zoë checked the docking seal. The finality of it hit him – it wasn't like Inara toured the Rim. Once she walked through the airlock, he wasn't like to see her again. Ever.

"Inara," he said. "You don't have to leave." That might sound pathetic, but what could it hurt to say it?

Inara laughed. "Mal – why in the 'verse would I stay?"

"Ship's gonna be awful empty."

"Oh," Inara cooed, "you thought there was something between us, didn't you?" Mal looked up at her, and she gave him a pouty look. "That's so sweet. Poor Mal."

He felt something in his chest harden. "Did I do something to make you tetchy?"

"Captain, someone with your limited experience is easily overwhelmed by the service of a Registered Companion. Don't let it get you down that you misunderstood the situation. I'm sure there's a little lady somewhere that… well..." She bit her lip and looked to the side, charmingly out of words. "Anyway, best of luck." She finished with a smile and offered him a hand to shake.

He looked at her hand but didn't take it. "When did you become cruel?" he asked.

Inara patted his cheek with a look of pity and turned away.

Mal watched from the catwalk as Inara exchanged hugs and kisses with the rest of the crew, then she disappeared into the station without a backwards glance. He rested his elbows on the rail.

…overwhelmed by the service of a Registered Companion… Was that what was happening? He rubbed his eyes. How did he get himself into this?

"That was bullshit," River told him. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Mal looked up – true to her new habits, she'd appeared beside him without a sound.

"What… weren't you just down…?" Mal looked back down to the bay. It was empty and dark, the airlock closed tightly.

"But the other thing she said was right," River continued. "Remember? Said you should stop punishing yourself. She was right. Not helping. Actually, you're making it all get worse."

"What are you talkin' about?" Mal asked. "Have you been eavesdroppin' where it ain't your business?"

River gave him a long look, then she leaned toward him and whispered, "Captain, things are going to get weird. Weirder. Just hang on." She glanced dramatically down to the cargo bay floor. "Going to take a little while to work it all out, but I'll keep an eye on you when I can."

"No! Now you stay out'a my head and don't be airin' my business with the crew."

River sighed and rolled her eyes. "You'll see," she said, like she was talking to an exceptionally slow child, then she headed off toward the galley.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon was busy in the infirmary as usual. Mal wondered what the boy found to occupy himself; there couldn't be that much needing to be sorted out.

"Hey, Doc."

"Um, Captain?" Simon looked completely lost as to why Mal would be there.

"I just wanted to check in."

Simon's confused expression didn't change. "About what?"

"The bump on my head."

"It should be getting better by now." Simon turned back to the counter.

Mal didn't like talking to Simon about this, especially after what he'd overheard the other day between the doc and Kaylee,but he was going to be running things without Zoë from now on. He couldn't have these headaches slowing him down.

"I'm not sure about that," he said.

Simon turned back, looking interested now. "What do you mean?"

"I'm havin' headaches."

"That's to be expected."

"They're gettin' worse. And…" Mal shifted uncomfortably. "I think I'm hearin' things."

"What kind of things?"

"Just… buzzing."

"Probably an effect of the concussion, but I'll have a look." Simon nodded at the exam table. Mal had a seat and Simon shone a small flashlight into his eyes. Mal pulled his head back away from the light and blinked several times.

"Are your eyes sensitive?"

"That light was damned bright, if that's what you mean."

"Your pupils are dilated." Simon attached a clip to Mal's finger. "Have you taken any painkillers?"

"No."

"No meds at all?"

"A little drink last night, that's all."

Simon looked up at the screen. "I'm not seeing anything in your blood. Lie back, I'll run a scan."

The infirmary was equiped with a coarse scan that worked well for broken bones annd the like. Simon ran it on Mal's head, then stood and stared at the screen blankly.

"I'm sorry, Captain," he said. "I don't see anything but some bruising. There's nothing else I can do for you here, except I can give you something for the headaches if you'd like."

"No thanks. I'll get by." Mal yanked the clip off his finger and sat up. He paused for a second and stared at the brain-shaped image on the screen.

"Tell me if it gets worse," Simon said mildly. He really didn't sound concerned.

"Sure. Hey, Simon."

"Yes?"

"Would you really leave your sister to get your old job back?"

Simon leaned back against the counter, blood draining from his face. "Wow. Where did that come from?"

Mal studied Simon's response, then slid off the table. No point in forcing the issue. "Bad week. Headache. Forget I said that."

.*. .*. .*.

"Mal, you're all welcome to stay for as long as you like," Wash told him. "I bet you could use a little time off. It's a large ranch, there's always lots to do. Stay and lend a hand, breath real air for a while, eat real food, work the land a bit. They don't have much cash, but they can pay in food and supplies."

Mal shook his head, not even tempted. "Maybe next time we come by this way we'll stop in for a spell."

"You can't stop now?"

"I'm feelin'a powerful need to keep movin'."

Wash ran his hands over the controls with a smile. "You sure you can handle her?"

"I'll do my best."

"I'm gonna miss her," Wash said. "You've got a good ship here, Mal."

"But you'll be back to her before too long, right?"

Wash was studying the control board like he didn't expect to be seeing it again. He shut the ship down, then looked up at Mal. "What was that?" he asked.

"I said when you get back you'll have less free time. For practicing stunts while we're en route. I hear those diaper things take some doin'."

"It's mostly the lack of sleep and constant cleaning up the path of destruction that worries me."

"You'll do fine, Wash."

"I know we will. I can't wait – it's like starting a new life."

"I imagine so."

"Hey, Captain, if you're really so keen on getting back to the game, I know a guy in a village called Morristown on the far side. He handles a lot of off planet transport, could be he'll have a job for you."

"Thanks. It'd be good to have a somethin' solid to move us along."

"I'll get his info to you before you leave." Wash stood up. "Guess I'll go see if my wife is ready to go. Finally, a real hot bath for my lady tonight!" Wash smiled in anticipation as he left the bridge.

Mal looked out the window at the green land that appeared as the landing dust settled. A few clouds drifted over the crest of a gently sloping hill in the distance. As the clouds passed, sunlight brightened on a collection of wooden buildings and sparkled in a lazily winding stream. A soft breeze stirred the large trees which crowded around the stream, and made a tire swing sway.

It was a good place for them, a good place to raise a family.

Mal sat down heavily in the pilot's chair and rubbed his sore eyes.

.*. .*. .*.

Translation
dŏng ma?: understand?

---

Chapter 8.

Mal sat alone on the bridge, watching the world pass below Serenity as she followed the course he'd set toward Morristown. The leave-taking had been mercifully short: a passel of Wash's family to carry off the baggage, then three handshakes and Mal was out a preacher, a pilot, and whatever the hell Zoë could be called.

He had just shaken hands with her, like she was some business partner. What could he do? How else could he say goodbye to Zoë?

He switched the controls off auto and took over the steering, just so he'd have something to do. He was grateful that Wash had found him a local contact. It was a relief that he had a plan, something to focus on. He needed to stay busy and keep it simple: keep flying, get money to buy fuel and food, keep the Tams away from the feds and Kaylee on board.

Mal shook his head as he realized it was even important to keep Jayne; he had no one else left.

A voice broke the silence. "Don't worry, she'll never really leave you."

He glanced over his shoulder. "River, you gotta quit sneakin' up like that."

River came to stand next to him. She wasn't interested in the blue sky outside; she stared down at him. "She's got it all worked out," River said, "how to get you. Does your head still hurt?"

"Don't you know?"

She studied his face with unsettling intensity. "I do," she said softly, then she reached out to touch his cheek. He tipped his head away from her, and she dropped her hand.

"I'll tell them to hurry," she said. "I'm sorry I can't help more."

"I don't need your help, crazy girl."

River gave him a sad look, then her eyes lost their focus. She started humming an indistinct tune and turned to wonder off the bridge, her left hand trailing along the bulkhead. Mal smiled bitterly. His ship now had a backstabbing mercenary, a moody doctor, and a teenager with a few light bulbs out. He'd have to start spending more time in the engine room.

.*. .*. .*.

As he approached Morristown on foot, Mal narrowed his eyes to scan the landscape. The town was huddled in a shallow dusty valley, and roasted in sunlight that seemed much brighter than it had at Wash's ranch. Stark brown buildings were separated by the white glow of dust scraped up by the shifting wind. A few dark figures trundled down the wooden sidewalk, then disappeared into a black doorway. Mal held a hand over his eyes, trying to make out the signposts outside the buildings. This kept up, he thought, he'd have to get himself some eyeshades.

"Don't know why we couldn't a' stayed," Jayne said with more than a little bit of a whine.

"Cause I said no," Mal replied, hoping to make the point stick this time.

"It was exactly what we needed, Mal. Lie low, save some cash. Get some real food. And did you see all those women? Who'd a' thought Wash's relations would look like that?"

Jayne and Mal had left Serenity where she rested just outside of town. The place was too small to have a proper landing field, but it did boast several saloons and a few shops that had lured Kaylee off the ship already. There was no way she'd let herself get stuck on board this time around, but Mal had ordered Simon and River to stay safely tucked away. If there was a single town on Barnard's World where the Tams shouldn't be seen, this was it. The Alliance kept a small outpost just down the valley, their one footprint on an otherwise happy little world.

"Jayne, I am the captain. I decide what's needed. And we need to work."

"I'm just sayin', it wouldn't hurt for ya to think a little more about crew morale. While you still got a crew."

They stepped up on one of the covered wooden walkways that lined the street, and Mal blinked his eyes in relief at the shade. "Is this what it'd be like, having a child on board?" he asked himself, since talking to Jayne did no good.

"If you kept your crew in good spirits, things'd go better."

"I don't know why Zoë and Wash are worried, if Jayne Cobb can get by on my ship…"

"Sexual frustration impairs a man's abilities. Oh, I guess you know all about that." Jayne chuckled at his own joke.

"Should'a left your frustrated ass on the ship."

"Should'a left my frustrated ass out at the ranch so it could get un-frustrated."

"Jayne, you got any idea what a peckin' order is?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my ship's got a peckin' order and I am the head… pecker. Now there's the place up ahead. You go on in and get a seat with a view of things. And don't screw it up."

Jayne went in first, taking a stool around the bend in the bar where he could see the whole place. Mal followed a few seconds later. He ordered a drink and dropped the right name for the bartender, then chose a table on the other side of the room from Jayne, sitting with his back to the wall.

Late afternoon sunlight poured through the windows set high in the front wall of the bar; thick dust floated in the slanting beams. Out of habit, Mal let his gaze wonder casually over the clientele. It was hard to make them all out. The place was all indistinct dark shapes and creamy white sunbeams. No color, just shades of brownish-gray and dirty white. He rubbed his eyes.

"…gorram trash. Don't even know when they've lost a war…"

The words floated past him. Mal sipped his drink and told himself to mind his own business.

"…gotta be slinking around stinking our town up."

Despite his own advice, he followed the voice back to a trio of dark shapes sitting nearby, a pile of empty glasses on their table. Mal studied them in the dusty light; he could guess their story just by looking at them. Local kids who grew up reading Alliance comic books, dreaming of touring the 'verse in a shiny cruiser. Most like they'd developed cocky attitudes because their folks pushed papers at the Alliance outpost, and they got away with everything they did on account of having connections with the Feds.

Arrogant cods, Mal thought. Barely settled into manhood and lookin' for trouble.

They noticed his lengthy stare. "Maybe that one's needin' a reminder a'what it means to be the loser," one of the kids said in a slighty louder voice.

"You'd be the expert," Mal mumbled to himself.

"What was that?"

Oh hell. "Not a thing," Mal said, and he raised his cup to them. "Y'all just enjoy your victory toast there."

One of the kids gave Mal a long look. Blond, full grown and obviously the leader of the pack on account of his charming manner and impeccable taste in headgear: a cap worthy of the best Alliance thug. Gray fabric and a plastic-y black rim.

The kid was taking in Mal's outfit as well. "Nice coat," he told Mal with a sneer.

"Thanks. It ain't for sale."

"Damn. We're low on toilet paper at home. I really need something to wipe my túnbù with." They trio laughed laughed and slapped hands.

Mal sipped his drink and looked over at Jayne, who gave Mal a small headshake. Mal got the message - it was only a few dumb kids, not worth blowing a job for. Gorram, he thought, is this not the day I wanna be dealin' with this. His head still ached. He brushed a hand over the back of his neck and closed his eyes.

A glass slammed down on his table. "Mind if we join you?"

The blond kid stood over Mal, his face hidden in bright sunlight falling on him from behind. He pulled out the chair next to Mal and settled into it without waiting for an answer.

"You see, we got this bet goin'." He looked to his two buddies for supporting grins. "We bet that you're not from around here."

"Well, I'm glad that's obvious," Mal replied with a bright smile. "Sure hate to blend in." He noticed Jayne, sniffing trouble, sidling down the bar.

The blond kid leaned toward Mal. "So maybe you don't know that garbage ain't so welcome in this town."

"Maybe you ought'a post a sign. Seems a lot of folk don't know when they ain't welcome." Mal was still leaning back in his chair, seeming at ease. He raised his glass to finish off his drink, but the kid slapped it out of his hand.

"I don't think you're gettin' it."

Mal looked at his empty hand, then down at the shattered glass on the floor. And it ain't even U-day, he thought sadly.

"What I'm gettin'," Mal replied, "is a little tired of things not goin' smooth. Now, if you boys will do me a favor and take a long walk, I won't even insist on you gettin' me a refill."

The kid didn't properly appreciate the deadly stare aimed his way. "Sure, Browncoat. Why don't you come along with us and we'll have a little chat outside?"

"Why wait?" Mal asked, and he hooked his toe around the leg of the blond's chair and yanked it forward, spilling the boy backwards to the floor.

Mal was up in a flash and a quick right hook took care of one of the buddies, and Jayne handled the other. The blond came up spittin' mad and swung a fat fist at Mal's face. Mal caught it and twisted the kid's wrist around, forcing him to turn into an arm lock. Mal twisted a little harder than he intended; he felt a bone in the forearm snap and the kid went down with a howl of pain.

"Damn," Mal swore.

Stupid kid. Living out in this dead end place, he ain't likely to be med-vaced somewhere for a proper bone fix. Probably have a bum arm the rest of his life. Right arm too.

Mal shook his head. Why was he thinking about this? He had more important things to deal with – Jayne had a pair of guns out, just in case anyone else in the place had a problem with coat colors. Good that one of them was keeping their wits, but scary that it was Jayne.

Mal looked down at the boy on the floor, and he didn't know how he hadn't seen it before. It was the same kid from the gun shop in New Melbourne, the same exact one who'd tried to sell him a seeker. Mal had broken his face not even a week ago, and now he'd broke his arm too.

"Mal – I suggest we move along," Jayne said coolly. "And I mean on the soon side."

Mal took a dazed look around; the local folk were staying put, but clearly weren't happy with the situation. Then he glanced down again – it was still the same face, and now there was blood dripping from the kid's mouth and a bruise forming on his cheek. Just like the kid in the gun shop.

"Yeah, good idea," Mal said, and he headed for the door with Jayne backing out behind him.

Mal stepped into the white light of the outdoors and squinted a look around the near empty street. He wiped a hand over his mouth; the hand was shaking. How could it be the same gorram kid? Put this under things to be dealt with later, he told himself firmly.

"Wanna stop in next door and beat up on some more kids?" Jayne asked, still pointing a gun through the doorway, "or you wanna hang out here till his friends come lookin' for payback?"

"Back to the ship," Mal said. "To hell with the job." He took off along the wooden walkway at a fast walk, Jayne following behind.

"Where is Kaylee?" Mal asked himself, hoping she'd be back on Serenity already.

Turned out she wasn't; she was sitting on the edge of the walkway a few doors down. He didn't see her in the bright light until he nearly ran her over.

"Hey Cap'n, I saw you go by before. I have to show ya - look what I got!" She started pulling open a bag.

"No time Kaylee. We gotta go."

"Again?" she whined. Mal grabbed her arm and tugged her along.

"Local color, always makin' my life complicated," he muttered. He looked behind him. A few locals were standing outside the bar looking after him, but Jayne was nowhere to be seen. "Great, now where's Jayne got to?" he muttered, then he winced at a sharp pain in the back of his head.

Too damn much to deal with, he managed to think. Way too much.

"You all right Cap?" Kaylee asked. Mal forced his eyes open and scanned the sidewalk across the street. No Jayne anywhere. Mal was having a very, very bad feeling about all this.

"He can do for himself," he decided, and he turned back Kaylee. "I gotta get you back to the ship."

He grabbed her wrist in his left hand, pulled out his gun in his right and held it low as he continued down the raised wooden walkway. They stepped down at the corner, and a big body flew at them from the side. Mal let go of Kaylee and twisted out of the attacker's reach. The guy stumbled to the ground, then found himself looking up the barrel of Mal's gun. He was blond and looked vaguely familiar.

"Gonna murder me?" the man said. "You messed up my little brother, that ain't enough?"

.*. .*. .*.

"Hold there, we've got the electrode placed. Start at the lowest setting."

.*. .*. .*.

A searing pain went through Mal's head. He tried to keep the gun pointed straight but his vision blurred, and 'Older Brother' tackled him, knocking the gun out of his hand. Mal shook his head and tried unsuccessfully to pull his arms free. He barely managed to roll to his side to avoid getting completely pinned down.

The pain receded and his head began to clear. The thug was expecting him to try to pull away, so instead Mal twisted back into the arms locked around his shoulders. This got him inside the grip enough to free an elbow, which he drove into the man's gut. The arms loosened and Mal climbed to his feet.

He found himself facing an arc of four men, obviously buddies of Older Brother, who was still lying in the dust coughing. Mal saw the goon to his left go down – reaching for Mal's dropped gun. Instead of going for the guy, Mal slid onto his left knee and used his right foot to kick the gun under the wooden walkway. This put him in an excellent position to make use of his elbow again, and he used the momentum of his slide to land a crushing blow on the man's crotch. He wouldn't have to worry about that one anymore.

Mal got up and turned around just in time to see a fist coming at his face. He dodged to avoid the punch, but this took him off balance and he stumbled back against the walkway, catching himself against the corner of the building.

He had a moment to consider the situation as the three remaining men stepped around Racked Man to close in on him. Mal wasn't worried about being able to take these guys down; they were a little older but not much brighter than that poor kid with the broken arm and broken face. Truth of the matter was, his hands were itching to make fists. He'd had too many weighty issues on his mind and could benefit from a little fisticuff therapy.

Violence ain't done by those who love doin' it so much as those who've had it done on themselves.

Gorramn preacher. Mal dropped his hands and backed along the wall of the building. He'd brought this on himself by reacting to the jibes of an ignorant fool who didn't know any better than to mess with a hardened soldier, and he'd left that fool maimed, possibly for life. It panged his conscience. Guĭ, if he had a bit more time to consider things, he might be inclined to question the effect his conscience was having on his sanity.

Mal swore, unsure of himself in a fight for the first time he could recall since before the war.

"Captain!"

It was Kaylee. Older Brother was up, and he had her in an armlock. The thug grinned at Mal.

"Browncoat trash. You mess with my brother, I'm gonna mess up your little lady." He grabbed Kaylee's chin and yanked her head to the side so he could rub his grimy cheek on her neck, and finished by flicking his tongue along her jaw. "Tasty!" he said with a grin, and Kaylee cried out in disgust. She struggled, but her efforts only earned her an arm wrapped tight around her neck.

Any doubts Mal might have had about his place in this fight were gone in an instant. He may be a mean and possibly crazy old man, but anyone who threatened Kaylee was worse. He'd be damned ten times over before he let her get hurt.

He made it three steps toward the man holding Kaylee when he was tackled from behind. He twisted to his side in the dust and tried to kick his legs free, then saw boots running at him, a pointy toe aimed at his head. Mal ducked back as he grabbed the boot and wrenched it upward. This tilted the would-be kicker enough to make him flop onto his back, and the boot came off in Mal's hand.

"What the - " Mal started, then he shrugged, grabbed the boot by the back of the ankle, and beat his tackler on the head with the solid wooden heel. The third man grabbed the back of the neck of Mal's coat, most likely with the intention of pulling Mal's head back and landing a punch, but all he got was a pointy boot toe to the eye that sent him flying. His nickname was likely to be Patch in the future. A few more whacks to Tackler Man and Mal was able to roll free. Bootless Man was the only one up at this point, but when he saw that he had no buddies to help him, and he was facing the prospect of getting beat with his own boot, he held his hands up and backed off.

Mal threw the boot away and flung himself down next to the walkway, reaching underneath to pull out his gun. As he got up he pointed it in turn at Racked Man, Tackler Man, Patch (who was no condition to notice), and Bootless Man, as warnings for them to stay the hell out of the rest of this business. Then he broke into a sprint after Older Brother and Kaylee.

He saw them heading into the doorway about twenty feet ahead of him. He took aim at the húnqiú, but never got the shot off. A powerful blast caught him in the side. He knew that feeling – a sonic rifle, the favored 'non-damaging' weapon used by the Alliance for crowd control and the like. It knocked Mal down and stunned him; he couldn't grip his gun right.

"Malcolm Reynolds, you are bound by law!"

He rolled to his side and saw Alliance troops coming at him. He managed to struggle to his knees, but the sonic weapon hit him again.

Then the soldiers were on him, holding him down and yanking his gun out of his hand.

"You gotta help her!" he told them. "There!"

Mal tried to point to the building Kaylee and Older Brother were just entering, but the soldiers caught his arms and pinned them behind his back.

"He's gonna hurt her!"

They weren't listening, didn't care. Cuffs fastened over his wrists, then he was pulled to his feet. Mal managed to land a hard kick, which earned him a fist to his side. They held him up by his arms as he doubled over, coughing, then they began dragging him toward a shuttle just settling out of the sky. He twisted to look back to the dark doorway where Kaylee and her captor had disappeared.

"Kaylee," he gasped, trying one more time to struggle. The butt of a rifle connected to his temple.

.*. .*. .*.

"We're reading a strong response, we've got him."

"Extraordinary reaction – this won't take long."

"Has he said anything useful?"

"Not a talker, unfortunately."

"It doesn't matter. We'll get good intel when we debrief him. Please continue."

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
túnbù: butt
guĭ: hell
húnqiú: no-good bastard

---

Chapter 9.

Mal rose toward wakeulness, a journey made slow and grueling by a throbbing ache in his head. He gradually became aware that he was sitting up. He tried to move, but cold metal bit into his wrists; his arms were bound to the chair.

A heavy weight of dread settled into his gut; he wasn't clear on how he'd got here – wherever here was – but it was fair bet that he wasn't in for a good time. He pried his lids open despite a flood of bright flourescent light that made his headache liven up with a tingling jolt. The pain felt like it had when he'd woke up in Serenity's infirmary a few days ago; the long, spindly legs of the spider were still there, poking into his brain from the back of his neck.

The image was so vivid that he rolled his head against the chair back, as if he could brush a giant arachnid off him. Of course, that didn't happen, but the pain began to fade. His eyes focused as he got used to the light, and what he saw took him a bit by surprise.

Jayne was sitting across a small white table from him. Unbound, and looking mighty pleased with himself.

"Hello, Mal," the merc said.

"Jayne."

Jayne leaned forward with his elbows on his table, watching still like he was just waiting for Mal to come around completely. Mal did his best, but it was hard to think straight. The only thing he was sure of was that he really didn't like the look on Jayne's face.

"Okay, Jayne," he finally said, "you wanna tell me why you ain't helping me out'a this chair?"

"I ain't got keys to the cuffs."

"Fair 'nough." Mal took a long look around the room: gray carpet, white walls. Standard Alliance cell. "You wanna tell me where we are?" he asked.

"I think you can figure that one out yourself."

Mal let his long look settle on Jayne. "You wanna tell me how we got here?"

Jayne smirked. This was the question he'd been waiting to be asked. "Seems you made a li'l mistake. Somethin' about a peckin' order."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Ain't no joke, Mal."

"What did you do?"

"Plannin' for my future. Ten percent just ain't gonna cut it. Specially when all we do is run around cleanin' up botched jobs. Jobs that you screwed up cause you got a hardon for goin' after any Alliance bonehead looks at ya sideways. Ten percent of a big damn mess is a helluva lot less than the reward I'll be gettin' today."

"Did you tell them –" Mal stopped himself from saying too much. In a place like this, someone was always listening. "Have you been tellin' tales about our passengers?"

"Give it up, Mal. Them two are làn dōng xi. They done nothing but brought trouble on us all. Best thing to do is send 'em back where they come from."

"The rest of the crew –" Mal started to ask, but he lost track of the question when something unpleasant crept into the edge of his memory. Something about the rest of the crew. The crew he had left, that was.

"It's a good deal," Jayne said. "It's all about the timin'." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Everybody off the boat right now is clear, and the Feds won't do nothin' to Kaylee but send her home. The only one losin' out on this, besides those two gorramn prigs, is you. I guess the lesson you get is that you should'a spaced me when you had the chance."

Mal missed the opportunity for regrets on that score. All he could think of was Kaylee being dragged through a dark doorway.

"Kaylee…" he breathed.

"Thanks for the good times, Cap'n." Jayne got up and tapped the door behind Mal, which opened for him.

"That húndàn took Kaylee," Mal said softly. He noticed, too late, that Jayne was gone. In his place were two men in uniform. One sat down at the table, folding his hands in front of him. The other stood beside Mal; he was holding a club.

Mal tried to twist back toward the door. "Jayne Cobb, I am gonna find you and I am gonna rip your–"

A hard blow cut him off.

.*. .*. .*.

"Increase the dosage. Place another electrode… here."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal's interrogator sat across a spotless white table, his arms crossed and an impatient frown on his face. "Where is River Tam?" he asked again.

If they want to know where she is, they must not have her yet, Mal thought. "Which river is that?" he asked innocently.

The questioner sighed and waved off the guard before the club could swing down again. Mal was glad for the break; truth of it was, he was struggling.

It wasn't the beating; bruises he could handle. It was the pain in his head that wore him down. Shards of it climbed from his spine upward and inward, spreading behind his eyes in webs that shimmered and tingled and then turned to fire.

The flare of pain made him wince and squint his eyes against the light reflecting off the polished table top, but the Fed wasn't concerned with Mal's discomfort.

"You do make things difficult for yourself," the man said. "Very well." He spoke an order into a comm unit: "Bring her in."

Mal heard steps coming down a corridor behind him. Two guards entered the cell and dropped a limp body on the floor – it was Kaylee, hands cuffed behind her back, clothes torn, face bruised and bloody, eyes staring vacantly in shock.

"Look what we found, Captain Reynolds."

A wave of horror passed through Mal. They couldn't be this bad – the war was over, and there were rules now. They couldn't just hurt an innocent.

Not Kaylee, he begged in his mind. Please not Kaylee.

"We found her in a building in Morristown," the interrogator said lightly. "Appears a few low lifes were trying to have their way with her. I don't think we got to her in time. She's not looking so good, is she?"

Pure hatred overcame Mal's horror. He looked up at the Fed and clenched his fists; the cuffs bit into his wrists as he strained against them.

"Private," the Fed said, and he turned to the guard with the club. "Find something imaginative to do with this little lady."

"Don't you fucking dare!" Mal spat at them both.

The interrogator smiled. "How exactly do you plan on stopping us?"

The guard removed Kaylee's cuffs. He spread her right hand palm down on the floor, then pulled a knife from his belt.

"Excellent idea, Private. Ten fingers. It could take a while to get through them all."

"Oh god," Mal muttered. "Don't do this. Please don't do this."

"River Tam?" the Fed asked.

Mal shook his head, a stream of no's falling from his lips.

The guard slammed the blade of the knife down on the base of Kaylee's thumb. She came out of her shock with a scream.

"Stop!" Mal cried out.

In all the hell he'd been through in his life, he'd never been broken. He'd lost all he thought he could, but never had he felt his will collapse in the face of something he couldn't take. He hadn't thought it could happen so quickly; he never made a conscious choice to give in, he just knew that it was done. He would do anything, tell them anything, to make them stop.

" Shàng dì, leave her be," he said, beyond caring that he was near begging. "I don't know where River is."

The interrogator leaned toward Mal eagerly. "So River Tam has been on your ship?"

"Yes." Shén me.

"And her brother?"

"Yes."

"Where did they get on?"

"Persephone. Tiānshā de èmó."

"You see," the Fed said, leaning back with a satisifed smile, "it's all about proper motivation."

The questions continued. With a sense of unreality, Mal heard the whole story come out of his mouth. The Tams, the preacher, Dobson. Suiting up River and Simon in spacesuits to hide them from Harken. Ariel. Jubal Early.

They left Kaylee huddled on the floor next to him the whole time, clutching her wounded hand to her chest and sobbing. Just let Kaylee go, he wasn't sure if he said the words or only thought them. Help her, treat her, and let her go. Please.

Where's the rest of your crew? they asked. They brandished the knife again, and Mal heard himself telling them about Zoë and Wash, the baby coming, on this very planet. He told them about Book, and about Inara, who had been on her way to safety and security. Not anymore.

It seemed hours before the questions ended, though it passed in a formless blur. When he nothing left to say, they took him out of the chair and cuffed his wrists to the wall above his head. No sitting. No resting. Kaylee was left on the floor. No mercy.

He hung from his wrists; his legs wouldn't hold him. Did he really just tell them everything? Did he really tell them about the Tams? About Zoë and Wash? "I'm so sorry," he whispered into the darkness. Then he gasped: River was standing in front of him, clear light shining on her from nowhere. This light didn't hurt his eyes.

"It's all right," she said. "We're nearby now; I can help you."

"How did you…?" Mal shook his head. "It don't matter. Get out."

River stepped closer to him. "You didn't need to do this to yourself." She put her hands up to his face. He pulled away at first, but the bruises didn't hurt when she touched him. Her fingers felt cool, soothing. "I could show you how to control it," she said, "but I'm afraid they'll know I'm here." She stared up at his wrists; Mal felt the cuffs let go and he collapsed to the floor. The relief was so great he couldn't even ask her how she did that.

"Don't be afraid." She was crouching next to him, touching his face again.

"I told 'em everything. They're gonna find you. I'm sorry."

"No, they won't find me. They don't know anything yet. You have to believe me."

Mal turned his head toward Kaylee, who was lying still and silent. "Help her. Please. Get her out." River looked over her shoulder at Kaylee, then turned back to him.

"Captain. Captain, look at me. This isn't real. Kaylee is fine. They're playing with your mind."

"Don't you get it? I told 'em everythin' you gorram fool. S'too late."

"It's never too late. Trust me." She put her hands over his eyes. The cool, soothing feeling spread back through his head, easing the burning inside.

"I don't understand," Mal said.

"There's no time. But we're coming for you. You have to hold on. Jayne will help."

"Jayne?" Mal had to laugh at that. "Jayne turned me in!"

River moved her hands to the side of his face and forced him to look her in the eye. "Never give up Captain. Very important. Don't tell them anything, and don't stop fighting. Ever. Okay?"

She held his gaze until he nodded. "I'll try," he said. Then he blinked and she was gone.

Mal crawled to Kaylee and gathered her in his arms, then white lightening flashed in his head.

.*. .*. .*.

"How many milligrams has he been given? Fine, let's see if we can finish this up. Increase the voltage on the marked contacts. Charge it up."

.*. .*. .*.

A bright light shone from the darkness, blinding him, scorching into his brain. Simon's face moved in front of the light.

"How do you feel, Captain?"

"Hell." Mal squinted. "Kaylee?"

"What about her?"

"She okay?"

"I think you know the answer to that." Simon stepped away and the light cut into Mal's eyes again. They were in the infirmary on Serenity, Mal lying on the exam table.

"Dead?"

Simon didn't answer. Mal tried to lift his arms, but they were tied down. He could only lie still until Simon returned, holding a thin silver wire, about five inches long.

"You betrayed River and I."

"M'sorry." Such an inadequate thing to say.

Simon began to bend the wire into smooth bendy curves. "Don't apologize to me, I'll be fine. They wouldn't harm such a very good surgeon." He studied the wire intently, and made a small adjustment to its shape. "I'll get my job back on Osiris. My old life. Honestly, it will be a relief to live amongst the sane again." He put one hand on Mal's cheek and pushed his head to the side. The tip of the wire touched the back of Mal's head, just at the top of his spine, then it plunged in to the center of his brain.

Mal screamed as the spider in his skull grew another leg. The pain crackled like the electric current that crazy old bastard Niska had used on him.

Gradually, he regained awareness of what his eyes were seeing: River was standing beside him. He ignored her and turned his head back to Simon. The doctor had another wire.

"Why'd you do that?" Mal asked, his voice slurred with pain and disbelief.

"River told me to."

"No!" River said. "Just wanted to show you what they're doing! I didn't invent all this."

Carefully, Simon began shaping the new wire. The white light glistened on it. "It'll only sting for a second," he said with a small smile.

"Captain." River was clutching his shoulder. "It's too much for you. The walls are falling. You have to get out." She leaned over him and whispered in his ear. "Can you hear it?"

"Hear wha'?"

"Follow the noise. It's time to wake up."

The buzzing. The high pitched buzzing. Mal focused on the sound and it grew inside his ears. Then his head was pushed sideways and another spike slid into his brain.

.*. .*. .*.

He was standing in Serenity Valley. The sky was brown, the ground was red. Bodies piled around him, everywhere. He couldn't walk, couldn't take a step without trodding on shattered limbs.

There was Zoë, laying in the pile of bodies. Pregnant Zoë, a big stomach, and blood on her face. Mal's hands were covered in blood. His clothes too, blood everywhere. He heard a buzzing, and looked up; giant med ships were passing over him.

That's not right, he thought. They should be silent. They were silent before.

Something sharp jabbed into the back of his head. Mal folded up and fell onto the pile.

.*. .*. .*.

Book's voice came out of the darkness. "You're in Hell, you know."

Mal breathed unevenly, trying to find his voice, trying not to smell the smoke and decay or to think about what he was lying on. "Been here before," he finally said.

"You put yourself in this place. You chose this path."

"I tried to be a good man."

"You didn't try hard enough. You turned aside."

"Wanted to live life my way is all." Mal opened his eyes and looked up. Book was standing over him, in front of a sky heavy with brown smoke.

"You think that's a right you're born to? Tell me son, how many of these kids would still be alive if you had laid down arms sooner? Quit the fight?" Book looked to the piles of dead; he didn't seem to notice the brown haired girl standing on a rock behind him.

"Didn't know we'd lose."

"What did you think you'd win? Billions of people live in the Alliance just fine. You think you got some right to try tearing that down just cause it don't suit you?"

"Shepherd, they ain't good, they do stuff…"

"Grow up, Captain. No government can make everyone happy. The Alliance isn't the real problem here. You are. Insisting that it's not good enough, always trying to make things how you want them. It was those like you caused the war, caused all this death."

"I din' start the war."

"You fought it. You fight it still. You take it to them as have no business with it."

Mal's hand crawled to his chest, clutching for something under his shirt. "I just wan'a find peace."

"You stubbornly cling to your idea of peace, and you drag those around you into your battle." Book crouched down beside Mal. "You watched them die for you, and you went right on fighting. That is why you are Damned."

Mal watched Book reach toward him, lift his own hand off his chest. Mal took in a deep breath, tried one last appeal. "What should I do, preacher? Give up, lay down in the mud and die?"

"You've already done that." Book lifted a chain from Mal's neck, pulling a silver cross out of his bloody shirt. "There's nowhere else for you to go."

"Isn't there salvation in your Bible?"

"Not for you." He yanked the cross, breaking the chain from Mal's neck. Mal rolled to his side, curling in on himself.

.*. .*. .*.

They pried Kaylee out of his grasp. "We have something to show you," one of them said with barely suppressed glee. They left Kaylee lying next to the white table and dragged him to an observation deck, a large dark room with tasteful comfortable furniture and big leafy plants. Scattered about the room were violet glass lamps which glowed with a high pitched electric buzz.

One long wall was transparent to the black outside; they stood him up in front of it. His ship drifted out there, looking forlorn. Empty and lifeless.

A green ball of fire streaked out from under the window, striking Serenity toward the aft end of her cargo bay section. For an instant she remained unchanged except for the gaping hole in her hull, then her center section silently erupted in gold flame. The pressure wave blew out the windows over the dining room and bridge. A second green ball struck her in the neck, shattering the crew quarters. The force of the blast pushed the bridge section forward and it spun slowly into the black, leaving an arcing trail of debris. The explosions in the aft section of the ship spread backwards through the Firefly's tail.

Mal watched as his ship disintegrated and the rubble drifted gracefully apart.

He felt a soft touch on his abdomen. River wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest.

"Listen, Captain. Can you hear it? You have to wake up now."

Mal tried, but the only thing in his head was the sight of the spreading debris field. That and the glowing white spider. River clung to him as his knees gave out.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal was cuffed to the wall again. I'm in Hell. They blew up my ship.

He didn't want to open his eyes, to see Kaylee on the floor. Was she dead? He couldn't remember. He pulled against the cuffs and felt them bite further into his flesh. Didn't River get me down? How'd she do that? She just looked...Mal twisted his head up, tried to see the cuffs in the darkness. He couldn't, but he could hear… buzzing.

Something about that. I'm supposed to listen…

"Captain Reynolds."

Mal turned his head forward. He was seated in the same chair as before, facing the interrogator across the white table. The man with the club waited beside him, but Kaylee was gone. Mal slouched in his seat, dully wondering if they hadn't brought her in yet.

"We've been making every effort to recover your crew. Unfortunately, your Companion's charter was hit by Reavers."

" 'nara?" Mal asked, not lifting his head.

"I guess you could say we recovered her, but not enough to be worth looking at. Unless you'd like to see?" The man and the guard both laughed and Mal felt something else tear inside him. Mutely, he shook his head.

The interrogator shrugged. "Up to you. But we did manage to find these two."

Wash and Zoë were pushed into the cell. Wash was asking: "What did you get us into? Why did you tell them about us?"

Zoe was pregnant. How long have I been here? She was really pregnant. Glowingly beautiful, and fully pregnant. Her hands were cuffed over her swollen stomach.

"Zoë?" Mal croaked hoarsely.

They put a gun to her head. Wash cried out, but another voice was louder.

"Focus, Captain!"

River?

Mal squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear it: the buzzing. He concentrated, and it grew closer… He might have heard a gunshot, far away, but he didn't open his eyes. He wouldn't believe that, couldn't even consider believing that.

"Good. Follow it up," River told him, "All the way up."

The high, electric humming… filling his head, all around him. Then shifting, now coming from only one place. Above. Behind.

.*. .*. .*.

A big beige circle in front of him, with black in the middle. Lights all around, not so bright. Warm soft lights. Can't move his head. Can't move anything. Strapped in tight. Something firm holding his neck and head still, cradled. Soft voices he can't understand. Too fuzzy.

Mal's eyes fall closed. Buzzing – coming from above him. Behind him. No, under him. His stomach lurches.

His eyes open again and he understands better. He's laying on his back. The black is the ceiling; it's a round room, beige walls, very clean. An IV stand next to him. He recognizes that, seen that plenty of times. The buzzing comes from the rack which holds his head in place: the barely audible electric hum of a generator.

There's something floating above his forehead; he rolls his eyes up. A pink globe. See-thru. Colored lines all around, words, squiggles. The pink globe – it's wrinkly. Irregular. Has two blue spots in the middle. And silver lines from the bottom/back of the globe, from a place where something - a stem - pokes out. The lines snake through to the two blue areas in the middle. Two hands pinch the air on either side, and move slowly around. The pink thing rotates with the hands. A third hand points into the globe, traces along one of the silver lines, and voices mumble things with lots of big words he can't comprehend.

Mal blinks and his mouth falls open – he should know what the pink thing is. Familiar shape. Areas of green and red slowly blossom in the globe. The hands let go and the pink thing snaps back to where it started. He hears loud voices to his right.

"He's awake!"

"That's impossible."

Faces enter Mal's field of view. They're all talking at once, he can't understand. Then he feels a sting in his upper arm, and it all goes away.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
làn dōng xi: trash
húndàn: bastard
shén me: I'm sorry
tiānshā de èmó: goddamn monsters