The Fish Job

by mal4prez

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

4. Part 4

The Fish Job: Part 4 (Chapters 15-19)

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

---

Chapter 15.

River followed Mal as he climbed the stairs from the common room, staying far behind him until the ladder to his bunk clanged shut. She huddled uncomfortably on the few steps that led from the dining room to the crew quarters, staring after him as if she could see through the bulkhead into his cabin. She didn't turn around when the rest of the crew came up after her.

Zoë stood at the head of the table and waited for the everyone to get settled, then she turned to Jayne. "What exactly did you mean by askin' Mal if he had the 'crazies'?"

Jayne leaned over the table, looking around to make sure everyone was listening up. "When I found him in that cell, he was out of it. Talkin' to himself. Then he pulled a gorram gun on me."

"I saw it," Kaylee said, "On the security vid. I figured he thought you was a guard or somethin'."

"Nope. He knew it was me, and he wanted to shoot me."

"Wanting to shoot you has never been a sign of insanity," Wash said half-heartedly. His attempt at humor fell flat.

Jayne turned to Wash. "How about him tellin' me Kaylee got her thumb cut off?" Kaylee sat up at this, and pulled her hands together against her stomach. Jayne didn't notice, he looked around the table as he continued, "Or how 'bout when he thought Serenity was blown up? Or when he started sayin' he wouldn't leave the base without Zoë's baby?"

"Baby?" Wash looked to Zoë, who met his eye and shook her head slightly.

"Baby." Jayne leaned back and crossed his arms. "And he was seein' things on the way out."

"Like the business with the Reavers on the transport," Zoë added.

"Reavers?" Inara asked. Zoë didn't explain further.

"It makes sense," Simon said softly from where he leaned against the kitchen counter. Everyone looked at him.

"Just where do you find sense in that?" Book asked.

"River… saw a lot, and she's been telling me about it. I believe I've worked out a few details of what they did to him.

"Do tell," Zoë said, and she sat down to hear the doctor out.

Simon took a moment to gather his thoughts. It wasn't a good time to be overly technical, so he stated it as simply as he could. "We already knew that they were holding him in a dream state. I believe they actually controlled what was happening in his mind."

"If they can do that, wouldn't they know everythin' about him, and us, already?" Zoë asked.

"No, it doesn't work like that. The brain is a very complicated system. It's not like a computer; you can't copy a picture or an idea off of it, or upload and run a program. But neurologists have a good idea of the function of different parts of the brain. They know which areas handle logic or imagination, and which areas store memories and ideas."

Simon paused; for once the crew silently waited for him to continue. "I believe the Alliance used electrodes on particular regions of the brain to trigger neural activity, to… stir up memories or emotions from his subconscious mind.

"A person's emotional state can be monitored by scanning overall neural activity. That was one thing the holo-imager was used for, to see what resulted each time the electrodes were fired. They Alliance… doctors, I guess, although it's generous to call them that… located the memories and ideas that hurt the most. Then they hit these harder." Simon shook his head in disgust. "They opened the most negative aspects of his psyche."

"Monsters," River said without looking back at the table. "Scary monsters."

Simon looked over to her sister. "Nightmares. Very realistic, very personal, nightmares. Fears, sources of grief, guilt, regret. Bad memories…" Simon's voice trailed off.

"No one can devise a better torture for a man than he can for himself," Book said softly.

There was a short silence, broken only by a sniffle from Kaylee. Inara gently took her hand.

"But how does that help them get information out of him?" Wash asked.

"They wake him up, question him. The worst things he can imagine have already happened to him, how much will he resist? And, I imagine, his questioners can make it hard to separate being awake from dreaming."

"An experienced interrogator could work out enough of the nightmare to make use of it," Book added.

"But this doesn't make sense," Inara protested. "The Prefect said that the people who get questioned aren't harmed."

"They aren't, really," Simon replied. "The electrical charges used to stimulate neural activity are very small; no permanent damage is done."

"Nano-wires." River's expressionless voice floated across the room as she recited: "Guided by high resolution three dimensional holo-images, nano-wires can be manipulated to pass between neural cells and deliver measured electronic discharges to specific areas of neural tissue." She turned to the crew sitting around the table. "No changes. No scars. But they hurt. Takes a while for the bruises to go away." She winced a little as she rubbed her forehead, then turned her back to them again, shifting on the stairs.

Simon paused while he watched his sister sadly, then he continued explaining. "After the questioning, I believe the subjects are held unconscious until the drugs flush out of their system. It's possible that the Alliance doctors have other drugs, or some technique to speed recovery; I'm not sure. But people are able to, essentially, sleep it off. They wake up with no real memories of the process, just like anyone would wake up from a bad dream."

Simon pushed away from the counter and paced in front of it, his voice becoming tight with anger. "No one remembers it happening to them and they aren't physically hurt, so it's not considered to be torture. It's completely legal. They take people in broad daylight and do this to them. They… violate their minds."

"But Mal seems to remember it," Wash said. "He sure isn't himself."

"No, he's not himself." Simon stopped pacing. "We interfered with the process by getting him out. The dreams you remember best are the ones you're having when you wake suddenly, right? Well, we woke him suddenly." He pulled out a chair and sat down before he continued. "And he's not out of it. Those drugs are still in his system."

"That why he's still seein' stuff?" Kaylee asked.

"Yes. And I suspect they drugged him up more than they usually would before they questioned him. River pulled him out of that dream state before they wanted him out; they're not used to that happening."

"So they did question him?" Zoë asked. If Simon's revelations were upsetting her, she didn't show it.

"Yes. But River says he didn't tell them about us."

"You sure 'bout that?" Zoë pressed.

Again River turned away from watching the entrance to Mal's bunk. "It was hard to make him see me because he was awake. But I saw him the whole time. He fought. Fought the questions." She tilted her head to the side sadly, her eyes wandering to the floor. "He was losing. He was about to tell about me."

"But he didn't?" Zoë asked.

River focused on Zoë. "I got in. He saw me, and he knew."

"Knew what?"

"They were lying to him."

"So he knows it wasn't real?"

"Sort of. He's still confused." River turned back to Mal's bunk with a sigh.

"Will he be okay?" Kaylee asked Simon.

"Given time," he replied. "Although I can't say that he'll ever forget about it like other people have. I hope that it will fade away like any nightmare does, but I don't really know. I've never seen this before."

"But how 'bout right now?" Kaylee asked. "Is he okay now?"

Simon shrugged. "It's hard to say. He obviously doesn't want to talk about it, but I imagine he's having some problems with what's real and what isn't."

Kaylee's eyes turned the same direction as River's. "Should he be alone if'n he's like that?"

Simon looked at his sister. "River's keeping tabs on him. She's the best one to do it. After all, she saw everything he went through."

"What can we do to help?" Book asked.

"Not a whole lot, I'm afraid," Simon answered. "Until his system is clean and he gets some sleep, maybe the best thing we can do is to leave him alone."

"I don't like him bein' alone," Kaylee said. "He ought'a know we're here, that we'll help…"

Zoë interrupted in a firm voice. "We can't force it on him, Kaylee. If he wants company, he'll come find us."

"And when he does, we should try to make him feel comfortable," Simon said with a glance at Jayne, who had been sitting silently for some time with his arms crossed in front of him and an angry glower on his face. "Don't fight with him. Be nice, and don't act… abnormal. We don't want him thinking this isn't real."

"For now we leave him be," Zoë said firmly. "Meantime, we need to meet up with the Prefect. He should know what the Alliance is doin' to people."

Jayne suddenly pushed his chair back and walked angrily toward the galley. He stood with his back to everyone at the table.

"What's goin' on, Jayne?" Zoë asked.

"I'm just thinkin' that maybe that Prefect's got the wrong idea."

"How's that?"

Jayne turned around. "Maybe we ought'a be bringin' those rebel folks a whole mess a'things that go boom so as they can deal with the Alliance right."

"You sayin' you wanna kill innocent people?"

"I'm sayin' that you didn't see how he was." Jayne slapped at a plastic bowl on the counter and it spun onto the floor. "I don't know 'bout all this tech gōushī the doc is spoutin', but I do know that it ain't right, man like Mal actin' like that. They had him for one day – one day. I don't give a good gorram what the law says. It just ain't right."

"The people who made those laws are far away from here, Jayne. Blowin' up a bunch of grunts and doctors on Oeneus won't help a thing."

"I know, I just –"

"Put a lid on it," she ordered harshly.

Jayne kicked at a chair in the alcove, then he plopped down heavily into it.

It was Zoë's turn to stand up and pace. "Okay doc," she said. "When they first took the captain, he was just one of, I'm guessing, a hundred people the Alliance thought might have some bit of info they wanted. Now you're tellin' me that he may be the only person who ever messed up their fancy brain-fryin' plan. That don't bode well."

"I don't imagine there are many who've disappeared from their cells either," Book added. "They'll be wanting to know how he managed that."

"So the Alliance is after us, what's new?" Zoë stopped pacing and stood sternly in front of the crew. "We take the risk and stick with the plan, meet with the Prefect. He needs to know. Jayne?"

"What?" he spat in a sulky tone.

"I meant what I said. While you're on this ship you'll keep yourself in line." Jayne swore at her under his breath, but Zoë continued unfazed. "Fàngxīn, you'll get your chance. You and I'll be payin' a visit to our friend Ricky, see if he's got some idea 'bout how we got into this mess."

Jayne's lip curled in a not-so-nice smile, and he looked over his shoulder to nod his approval to Zoë.

Zoë turned back to Simon. "You got any more news to share?"

Simon shook his head. "No, that's all."

"Anyone else got anything to add to this little palaver?" Zoë asked. It was clear that it better be something important.

After a short silence, Wash slowly lifted a hand, "Uh, I have one thing…" Zoë gave him a short nod, and he continued hesitantly. "It's just… about the course we're on. Can you have a look?" He tipped his head toward the bridge.

"Fine." Before she left for the bridge, Zoë cast a look of warning around the room. "Keep it quiet people. Don't bother him, and if he's sleepin', don't be wakin' him up."

River didn't stir when Zoë and Wash stepped over her; she had her head resting against the hatchway, and looked to be sleeping. Simon went to check on her.

"Hard to sleep," she said softly when he touched her shoulder. "Storm's still blowing too loud."

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë walked to the front of the bridge. "What's the problem?" she asked as she checked over the course displayed on the console.

Wash stopped and leaned against the lockers behind the pilot's chair. "You tell me," he said.

She turned around and saw that he was looking at her, not at the ship's controls. "Wash, I don't have time for this," she told him brusquely.

"It's me, lamby-toes," he said softly and he held his arms out. Zoë put her hands on her hips and turned away from him. Wash waited patiently, he knew it'd take her a bit to shed the Acting Captain armor. Finally she did; she turned back to him and stepped into his arms. They held each other quietly for a while.

"I can't ask him what I should do," Zoë said finally.

"You're doing fine."

"Can't even go talk to him. I don't know if I'll make it worse."

"I know."

"He's hidin' in his bunk, Wash. On his own gorram ship."

"It's all right. He'll be all right."

She leaned back to look him in the eye. "You sure 'bout that?"

"I…" Wash paused, then he smiled sadly. "He's tough. He got through our stay at Camp Niska like it didn't bother him at all."

"Maybe it did bother him. Maybe he just didn't talk about it 'cause he was too busy checkin' to see if everybody else was okay. Makin' sure that Simon was all right with usin' a gun, that you and I were good with each other. Maybe somebody should'a been askin' how Mal felt about bein' tortured."

Wash ran his hands up to her shoulders. "Băo bèi, don't start with the maybe's. Don't do that to yourself."

Zoë shook her head. "There's all kind'a of things he should'a been talkin' about all these years. Things that are probably tearin' him up right now. I should'a made him talk about it."

"You really think you could have?"

"I could have tried."

"Are you telling me that you never tried? Honey, you know him better than anyone, but there's no way you'll convince me that Mal would be an open book if only you had tried harder." Zoë didn't argue the point, so Wash continued. "You and Mal have been through a lot, more than I can even begin to understand. You'll both get through this too."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do." Wash kissed her gently and pulled her close again.

.*. .*. .*.

A glum silence hung over the crew all day. It was River who finally broke it.

Zoë and Wash were keeping to themselves on the bridge, and Kaylee was holed up in the engine room, tinkering quietly. Book and Jayne had worked off some energy with the weights, then returned to the dining room to pass the time with Inara and a deck of cards. Simon also sat at the table, but his attention was split between watching the card game and keeping an eye on River. The girl was still at her post on the steps.

It was late afternoon when River sat up suddenly, looking toward Mal's bunk with a hand clasped over her mouth. "River?" Simon asked.

The card players looked toward her as she began to tip back, then she slid down the stairs with both hands wiping at her face in a panic. Book reached her first. "She's not breathing!" he told Simon as he tried to hold her hands still. She fought against him until Jayne helped to hold her down. River's eyes were frantic but she didn't make a sound.

"Hold her head still!" Simon told Book and Jayne. He forced his sister's mouth open and tilted her head back, then took a deep breath and forced air into her lungs until she gasped and began coughing. Book and Jayne let her go and she rolled onto her hands and knees.

"It's okay, mèi mei," Simon murmured, his hand on her back.

As soon as River caught her breath enough to speak, she gave Book a horrified look. "Scary, scary preacher man," she said in a shaky voice. Book backed away from her in confusion as she climbed to her feet.

"River -" Simon tried to hold her arm.

"Let go! Let go of me!" River pulled herself free. "I have to make sure he got back!" She turned toward Mal's bunk.

.*. .*. .*.

He noticed the smell first. It came to him out of the grayness of sleep, faint but growing steadily until it was overwhelming: smoke, mud, drying blood, and sickly sweet rot. After that the pained moans of dying men and women reached his ears.

Mal groaned when he realized where he was. He put his hand to his chest, but the necklace was gone. He remembered who had taken it, and opened his eyes. A tall form stood over him, a deeper shadow against the churning brown sky. The silver cross pendant and its broken chain dangled from the man's hand.

"Didn' wan' it anyway," Mal mumbled. "Useless gorram thing."

The man held up the pendant; it glinted white against the fires burning on the side of the valley behind him. When he crouched beside Mal, dull orange light fell across his face. Book's eyes were hard and his mouth was set in a straight line.

This can't be how it ends, Mal thought. This can't be where I end. Not in this place.

He lifted his hand to Book's arm. "Shepherd, don' leave me here," he whispered.

Mal felt hard fingers digging into his jaw, forcing his mouth open, then the necklace dropped between his teeth. The chain trickled into his throat, making him gag. Mal tried to roll his head away as Book's hands closed over his mouth and nose, cutting off his air, but the hands were too strong. The force of them pressed his head down into the bodies of the dead. Mal tried to push the arms away, but he was too weak. Black flowers bloomed in the corners of his vision, spreading until they covered the Shepherd's face.

.*. .*. .*.

A thin stream of air somehow leaked into his lungs. He clawed weakly at the smothering hands on his face, but there were none. Finally, his throat opened and he drew in a full breath, then rolled to his side, coughing hoarsely. Mal's vision slowly cleared and he realized that he was laying on his bed in his bunk. His hands groped against the bed and the shelves behind it, looking for something solid and familiar to reassure himself of where he was.

The entrance to his bunk clanged open; he wasn't surprised to see bare feet on the ladder. He forced his hands to be still as River climbed halfway down and stopped in a crouch, leaning her head to the side to look down at him. Light from above caught in her hair, making an oval halo that floated in the entryway.

"That was a bad one," she said. She was slightly out of breath.

Mal tried to control his own breathing. "What the… ?" He didn't even know what to ask.

"Just a dream. You fell asleep."

"A dream," he repeated, but he couldn't quite believe that. The horror of it clung to him. He coughed a few more times to clear his throat, then pushed himself up to sitting, propped up against the wall behind his bed.

"It's because of the drugs. And your brain is bruised," she continued matter-of-factly. The cool reason in her voice was somehow soothing. He watched her as she put her legs through the ladder and hooked one foot through the next rung down. "Bruised by the electrodes. I know how it is." She held on with one hand and leaned to the side again. "They used them at the Academy. To experiment. To plan surgeries."

Mal wiped his face with a hand that shook a bit. "Surgeries?" he asked.

"Knives to open up my mind. Make it open like a window." She turned her face toward the floor, watching the light that played in her hair.

"You tellin' me it's like this for you, all the time?"

She sighed. "Sort of. My window opens to the outside. Your door is on the inside. It let the monsters out to play."

Mal rubbed the back of his head: still sore. "River, how 'bout you try n' talk straight."

"They made you have nightmares."

"Right," Mal said doubtfully. But the dream was starting to fade a little, and he began to remember the things that had come before - crazy things. Things that couldn't have happened.

The girl might have a point.

River was studying the parchment of calligraphy hanging on the wall across from his bed. "It wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't woken you up," she said. "You wouldn't remember."

Mal thought about it. "But I'd have told 'em about you and Simon."

"Yes."

Mal's breathing was just about back to normal now. He felt his body relax and sighed with relief. He was no stranger to the aftereffects of an adrenaline rush; it was almost pleasant. "I thought I did tell 'bout you."

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop it before then."

"You were there the whole time, weren't you?"

"Tried to help when I could."

"You took the cuffs off." He glanced at his wrists. There were no bruises, he'd never actually been cuffed.

"I've been in dreams before," River told him. She was tipped nearly upside down, as she studied the things hanging on the back wall of his cabin. "Know how to do things."

"You showed me how to wake up."

"Yes. Made them very mad." She laughed suddenly and pulled herself upright. "No one's supposed to be able to do that."

"You were there when the Fed questioned me. That was real, right?"

"It was. It was mean of him, telling you he had Zoë and the baby." She was looking past him at the shelves behind his bed.

Mal shifted uncomfortably; suddenly he felt naked. He didn't like dealing with the things in his head, he especially didn't like that this girl knew it all.

River stopped her scrutiny of his cabin to look at him. "Tried my best not to tell anyone what was happening. It was very personal. No one's business but yours."

Mal relaxed again and smiled. "River, sometimes you're awful wise for a crazy teenager."

"You're just saying that because you're crazy too."

"Maybe." Mal took a deep breath. "Maybe I am."

He sat still for some time while River played quietly on her makeshift jungle gym. Then he spoke up again. "Thanks for gettin' me out'a there. I'm glad you did."

"No problem." She was still watching him. He wished she'd go back to looking at his stuff; it was unnerving to have River staring at him. "I can stay here with you," she said, "if you want to sleep."

Mal was surprised by the offer. "Thanks… I'll pass on that for now. You go on."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Come up for dinner anyway. Everyone's worried. They'd like to see you."

"I'll think about it."

River looked at him doubtfully. "You sure you don't want me to stay? I can be very quiet."

"I'll be fine, River." He smiled to reassure her. "Anyway, if I'm not fine I expect you'll know before I do."

She hesitated still. "You will get better," she told him.

Mal shooed her away. "Go help with the cookin'. I don't want to be eatin' nothin' your brother makes by himself." River was expressionless as she studied his smile, then she untangled herself from the ladder and climbed up out of his cabin.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal took his time getting ready to go up for dinner. He studied his reflection in his shaving mirror; with a clean shave and some scrubbing, he looked pretty much the same as he always had. Just a bit tired in the eyes. He shook his head and put the mirror away.

He pulled his boots on and checked that his shirt was tucked in straight. The only change in him, on the outside, was the gun and holster. Both were spares he'd dug out and dusted off. He'd lost his real gun, the gun he'd had since the war, and his coat. He'd had them when he was taken on the station.

He didn't let himself ponder the changes to his inside. Time to put his best face on and move ahead. That's the only way to get past bad times.

He found himself standing at the ladder, one foot up on the bottom rung. He didn't want to go out there. Too many bad things and not enough good. Then he felt a wave of disgust with himself over his hesitation; he'd never been one to cower. His face set in determination and he climbed the ladder.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
gōushī: crap
fàngxīn: don't worry
băo bèi: sweetheart
mèi mei: little sister

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Chapter 16.

Everyone but Wash was gathered at the dining room table, busy with their own thoughts as they picked at their food. Despite the silence in the room, no one noticed when Mal stepped through the hatch.

"Someone die or somethin'?" he asked, and they all turned to him in surprise. He exaggerated counting the bodies around the table. "Okay, seven here, plus me makes eight. Where's Wash?"

"Bridge," Zoë replied. "Checkin' the scans."

Mal came down the steps. "Then I guess we got ourselves a full house. So why y'all so gorram glum?"

He forced a grin and noticed how they all relaxed in response. Kaylee even jumped up from the far end of the table with a smile.

"Cap'n!" she said, and started around towards him, but Mal nodded to her and took his seat before she could reach him for a hug. She stopped uncertainly, and Mal saw her swap a look with Simon. She took a deep breath and brought her smile back. "Good to see ya, Captain," she said more sedately, and returned to her seat.

"Thank you Kaylee." Mal glanced around at the rest of the crew, his eyes skipping past a few of them. "And thank y'all for coming in to get me. I'm sorry about earlier, outside the infirmary. I wasn't quite feelin' myself."

"Not to worry," Book said as he passed a serving bowl along. Mal took the bowl but didn't reply.

"Did you get some sleep?" Simon asked.

"Sort of." Mal didn't elaborate as he dropped a few spoonfuls of protein mush onto his plate. He didn't feel at all hungry, and the options they had for dinner didn't help: brown gunk and green gunk.

"So, we out of seafood dinners or did I make that up too?" he asked awkwardly.

"Jayne polished 'em all off," Kaylee replied with a mischievous smile.

Jayne hurrumphed. "I'd have saved you some," he told Mal, "but I kind'a forgot, bein' busy with the rescue and all." Kaylee jabbed him with an elbow. Be nice, Mal heard her whisper. I am, the merc replied.

"That's fine, Jayne," Mal said after watching their exchange, then he returned to his plate. "It was a good plan. Must've taken some doin'."

"We got River's boyfriend to thank," Jayne said.

"Not boyfriend!" River snapped. She was sitting on Mal's right, and turned back to him to say in a quiet but defensive voice, "I remind him of his daughter, that's all."

"Who's this?" Mal asked.

"Trevor," River said, then glanced at Inara. "Prefect Marone."

"He was my client's houseguest," Inara explained, "on Oeneus."

Mal didn't look at Inara. "What's his part in all this?" he asked Zoë.

"We couldn't have gotten you out without him," Zoë replied. "He plugged us into the security system at the Alliance base, and got Jayne in."

"Jayne had to shave," Inara said. Mal glanced at her long enough to take her teasing smile, and also to see that she was watching him closely. Damned woman had to see that he didn't want to talk to her. Didn't want to deal with her at all, if he could avoid it. He lowered his eyes.

"I noticed that," he said, then he continued in a sarcastic tone, "That's a heavy sacrifice for a man to make. Hope you're bearin' up okay."

Everyone looked away from him and no one replied. After an uncomfortably silent couple of seconds, Mal sighed and added, "Actually Jayne, from what I recall it went off real smooth, and I certainly wasn't much help. You did good workin' it out."

"Oh, well…" Jayne looked like he wasn't sure how to respond to praise. He tipped his head toward Zoë. "It was a good plan."

Mal nodded agreement. "Where's this Prefect guy?"

"He'll be meetin' us on New Melbourne," Zoë said as she started filling a plate for Wash.

"Don't tell me we're gettin' more fish," Mal said.

"Nah," Jayne said. "We got a big fish to fry though. A Big Ricky fish." He grinned at his own wit.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Captain," Zoë said. "You just rest up." She headed to the bridge with a full plate, pressing a hand to Mal's shoulder on her way out.

"And eat something," Simon nodded at Mal's untouched plate.

Mal considered his dinner and made a face. It didn't look like real food; it looked like melted plastic. But he was feeling light headed, and having something in his stomach would likely help. "I'll do my best," he told Simon as he picked up his spoon.

He managed to get down a few mouthfuls while Kaylee launched into a description of some new toy of River's. The crew all watched her avidly, faces cheerful, and no one turned back to Mal. Such a polite group, he thought, allowing him privacy to be moody at the dinner table.

His eyes flicked between them. It was clear they knew he wasn't right, that they weren't sure how to act around him. He didn't know how to treat them either. He studied Book as the preacher replied to a comment of Kaylee's. The man looked harmless, but Mal knew that wasn't the way of it. Book could do things, knew things, that no preacher had any business with.

Kaylee was laughing, hands in front of her as she mimed something that looked vaguely like juggling. Her eyes caught Mal's for a second and she quickly looked away. Poor girl had never been anywhere but some backwater world and this ship. Probably wouldn't be a bad thing for the doctor to take her someplace better.

Kaylee's gestures got more expansive, and Inara caught one of her elbows before it could bump her face. Inara playfully slapped Kaylee's shoulder, looking open and kind and unguarded. Looking real. Mal felt his expression turn bitter and he forced himself to look away from her. He realized that he'd been scowling for some time.

He looked down at the spoon in his hand, then dropped it onto his plate. It didn't feel right, being here. What he needed wasn't food. What he needed was to go back to before this all happened, try to figure out what was real and what he'd invented in his own head.

"How long was it?" he quietly asked his plate.

"They had you for a day," River replied from his side. "Another day since you got out."

Mal looked up at her. "That all? Two days?"

"What's wrong?" Simon asked from River's side. "Captain, are you feeling sick? You look pale."

Simon sounded oddly far away. Looked far away too, like down a tunnel. Mal tried to steady the spinning in his head, but it sped up. "I ain't hungry. Two days, you'd think I'd be hungry. Ain't right."

"It's probably all the drugs," Simon answered, his voice still fading. "They're affecting your system." Simon fell silent and the conversation around the table tapered off; the room grew unnaturally quiet. Mal stared down at his plate again. He could hear his own breathing, sounding slow and heavy and ragged. He also heard a buzzing: quiet, high pitched, distant.

"Not again," he whispered and dropped his head in his hands. The bright light reflecting off the table under his plate made him squint. Fluorescent light on a clean white table. He glanced down at the neutral gray carpet. It looked familiar, and he didn't like it. There were no blood stains on it, not yet, anyway. His eyes returned to his plate, then wandered the length of the table.

Mal was on his feet before he knew it, gun in hand and pointed at the Fed across from him. His chair tilted back and banged on the floor behind him. "What the hell you playin' at?" He spat at the Fed. "You think you're gettin' in my head again?"

Faintly he heard – Captain! Mal! And a slimy shuddering feeling went up the back of his neck. Why would the Feds let him wear a gun? He shook his head. No time to think about that. One of the guards, a big guy who looked familiar, stood up. Mal swung the gun at him.

"Sit. Down." he ordered coldly. "Y'all just stay settled." He backed away from the table so he could cover them all, and they did as he told them.

Mal returned his gun to the Fed at the head of the table. "You won't be hurtin' her again," he told the man. "She ain't done nothin' wrong." He heard steps coming down a corridor behind him and he slid to his left so the guards couldn't come in at his back.

"You tell them to let her go. Now," he told the Fed, "or I will mess up that pretty uniform."

Mal was bluffing. He wanted to shoot the húndàn while he had the chance, he wanted to bad, but he couldn't pull the trigger. His finger wouldn't obey him.

At least the officer had the grace to look terrified.

He heard the guards clatter through the doorway, but didn't look over. He didn't want to see Kaylee's limp body and her shocked, empty face.

"Sarge! Stand down! Sarge!"

The familiar voice cut through him. "Zoë?" Mal said, and he looked to his right. Zoë was on the steps down from the bridge, Wash behind her. Mal looked back down his gun sights, at a terrified Kaylee sitting at the far end of the table.

"Lăo tiān, bù," he whispered and all the breath left his body. He tilted his gun up to the ceiling and staggered back a few steps till his shoulder hit the wall. He dimly felt Zoë take the gun out of his hand as he sank to the floor.

"Mal - " A hand was on his shoulder. He buried his face in his hands.

"Don't touch me," he muttered.

"Doc, a sedative might be helpful," Book said.

"I can't give him anything, not until those drugs clear out of his system." Simon replied. "It's too risky."

Mal looked up. "No. No more drugs," he ordered.

"Mal, you just pulled a gun on your own crew," Zoë said softly.

"I am aware of that," he replied sharply and quite unfairly. Was he really aware of anything?

"He wasn't going to shoot anyone," River said with confidence. "He was just confused."

Jayne grunted. "If I ever got confused like that I'd get spaced."

"Wasn't ever going to pull the trigger," River insisted. "He knew it wasn't right."

"Well, that is a comfort," Jayne said with a snort.

Mal tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Gimme a sec," he muttered quietly, but they seemed to have heard him. The crew waited while he forced himself to take a few deep breaths and think this out, then he opened his eyes.

"Zoë, go in my bunk. Get all the guns, put 'em somewhere. Put 'em in your bunk and set a lock code on the door. Jayne, lock up your bunk too. And change the code on the gun locker. Any'a you others got guns, weapons of any kind, you make sure they're put away." Mal paused to think of what other kidn of damage he could do. "Wash, put a lock on the helm controls. And Shuttle Two. Inara, get your shuttle."

The crew stood in shocked silence. No one moved. "You heard the captain," Zoë said. Mal looked up at her, grateful to have her being practical and cool, and he caught her giving the Shepherd a look. Then she tipped her head toward Mal. Book nodded in return, and Zoë turned to follow Jayne and Wash out the hatch toward the crew quarters and the bridge. Inara put her arms around a trembling Kaylee and guided her out the opposite hatch, and just like that, the room was nearly empty.

Simon was standing next to the table, looking lost. "Doc," Mal said, "may as well keep the infirmary locked up tight." Simon nodded and headed aft.

Only Book and River remained. River was still sitting at the table; she picked up a piece of bread, bit off a chunk, and chewed on it like she was bored. Mal looked up, then quickly closed his eyes against the sight of the preacher standing over him.

"You want to talk about it?" Book asked.

"Not so much."

"Captain, after what just happened, I think it may be time for you to accept aid, for your crew's sake if not your own."

Mal laughed softly. "Out here in the black I'm all I got. There's no one for me to be leanin' on."

Book sat down next to Mal. "What gave you that idea?" he asked.

"You did."

Book gave him a long look. "I never said that. If you heard it, it was you saying it to yourself."

Mal let his head fall back against the wall, trying to recall where he'd heard Book say it. It came to him: on the catwalk, just before he went into Inara's shuttle. Just after he woke up with a headache. Not real, never happened, he told himself.

"I guess I got myself a little free psychotherapy, courtesy of the mighty Alliance," he said to Book.

"One could look at it that way. What you've been through is, in a way, a rare opportunity for insight."

"Lucky me."

"I didn't say that."

Mal sat still for a moment, then he said softly, "You tried to tell me. About the path."

"Do you see one now?"

"Don't know if it's in front or behind, but I saw where it went to."

"Where's that?"

Mal didn't respond, but River did for him. "It was Hell," she said in a clear voice. "You were there, Shepherd."

"Thought you weren't gonna air my personals, little girl," Mal told her.

"Sorry. I slipped." She came over to sit beside Mal, and used the cuff of her sleeve to wipe the cold sweat off of his forehead. He closed his eyes and let her do it.

"Captain," Book said, "if you think you're headed for a dark place, I suggest you take a long look 'round." Mal turned his head toward the preacher, eyes questioning. Book continued, "There're folks on this ship standing tall beside you. You may want to try grabbing a'hold of some of them."

"What, to drag along with me?" Mal asked.

Book smiled. "You'll find we're not so easy to pull down."

"You just gotta have faith in people," River said in a sighing voice.

Mal had heard that before, but he couldn't place it. He didn't know how to answer Book, so he turned his mind to the business at hand. "I gotta make sure Zoë finds all my guns," he said in a tired voice, but he didn't move to get up.

Book rose next to him, and Mal looked up. Light shone on the hand that stretched down to him. Mal took it and let Book pull him to his feet.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal climbed down the ladder to his bunk. At the bottom, Niska was waiting for him. The old madman had a crooked smile on his face and he stroked his snaky torture pet.

"Welcome back, Mister Reynolds," he said fondly. "Eh - where were we?"

Mal stepped back and put a hand over his left ear.

"You all right, sir?" Zoë was standing alone in his cabin, next to a small pile of guns on his bed.

"Yeah, just makin' sure it's still there."

"What?"

"Certainly not my mind," he said under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"Not important." Mal dropped his hand from his ear and walked around the ladder. "How many you got there?"

"A rifle and two handguns, including the one you had upstairs."

"You missed a few."

Mal popped open a small panel in the wall over his bed. "It don't work, but…" he shrugged and tossed her the Lassiter. Then he reached above one of the beams running through the cabin, pulled up a strip of tape and took down a handgun. He checked the safety and threw it on the bed. Another tiny gun was tucked under the mattress, a third hidden in the sink drawer.

"I guess you're prepared for the dreaded bunk siege, sir."

"Exactly. Never can tell when you might get attacked by a well-spoken seductress with drugged up lips. And it'd be a good thing to have a gun to reach before you pass out."

"Good plan sir. That's it then?"

"There's one more taped overhead outside." Mal pointed up the ladder.

"Really?"

"Bounty hunters in the hallway."

"Right."

Mal stood and waited while Zoë stacked the guns carefully in a box. She started to pick it up, but then hesitated. "Sir, you know you can talk to me, don't you?" she asked Mal.

Mal threw up his hands. "Réncí de Fozu!" he said . "I get a little năo-cào and suddenly everybody wants to talk."

"A little talkin' ain't always a bad thing."

"Maybe I just want some quiet," he snapped.

Zoë shrugged and picked up the box. She turned away, but then stopped at the bottom of the ladder when Mal spoke up in a casual voice. "Hey Zoë, you ain't expectin'. Are ya?"

She turned back to him. He leaned against the wall and looked at the floor, hoping his expression looked neutral. "Expectin' what?" she asked.

"You know. In a family way."

"No, I'm not. Why you askin'?"

"Just wonderin'." Mal sat down on the bed but still didn't look at her. "Because if you were, or you were trying, and, say, you wanted to leave the ship, I would understand."

"That's very… understanding of you, Captain."

"And you'd be better to leave sooner rather than later. Cause I would want you to be safe. I can manage the ship without you, there'd be no need for you to be riskin' your little one."

Zoë set the box of guns on the floor. Then she crossed her arms and looked down at Mal. "So that's what happened?"

He finally looked up at her. "What d'you mean?"

"I got pregnant. And somethin' bad happened to me and the baby. And you figured it was your fault."

Of course the damned woman could see right through him. Mal shook his head; he didn't like it being so easy for her. When he looked at her again, she smiled and put a hand on her swollen stomach. Mal started to smile back, then he noticed the blood pouring out of a hole in her temple. But I never saw them shoot her! his muddled mind protested before more obvious things occurred to him. He turned away from her.

"You ain't pregnant, Zoë. And nothin' bad happened to you."

"Then why you lookin' so shaky?" She sat down next to him, her unpregnant self again.

"Cause my brain is bruised," he said, trying to laugh.

Zoë sighed. "Captain, I guess you picked up that Wash and I have been talkin' about havin' a kid. We ain't agreed on it yet. But there's one thing I know for sure." Her voice turned serious. "I am not leavin' this ship."

"But Zoë - "

"I know things ain't good right now, and we're runnin' from hot place to hot place. That's one reason Wash and I are waitin'. If things settle down, well, maybe we'll be wantin' to set up a nursery. But no matter, I got your back, and I ain't goin' nowhere."

Zoë got up and stood in front of him again, but Mal didn't look up at her; he found himself busy studying his hands. She continued in a firm voice. "If that's gonna cause you pangs of worry or guilt that you can't handle, I suggest you find a way to get past it. I'm with you till whatever end we got comin' finds us." She paused but Mal didn't reply. "Now, you got any more guns squirreled away?" she asked.

Mal swallowed before he replied. "You got 'em all."

"Good. But there's one thing you missed." She nodded to a large gray and blue bag sitting in a back corner of the cabin. He recognized it; it had been on the transport when they left the Alliance base.

"You got me somethin'?" Mal asked her with a tired half-grin. "Really, you shouldn't have."

"Cap'n, you won the Alliance charitable donation sweepstakes. Take from the criminals, give back to the criminals. All it took was a little finagling to get the right form." Zoë opened up the bag and pulled his coat out of it, followed by his gun and holster and the clothes he'd been wearing when he disappeared from Atalanta station. She tucked the gun in her belt and left the coat and clothes on the stool.

"Congratulations, sir."

Mal didn't reply. He stared at his coat for a moment, then smiled and looked down at the floor.

"You want some company?" Zoë offered. "You don't have to sit down here by yourself."

Mal shook his head. "No, you go on. Check on Kaylee, make sure she's okay."

Zoë paused to consider arguing, but then she picked up the box and balanced it on her hip. "You're the Captain. Try to get some sleep."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal knew he wouldn't be sleeping, not with the dreams he had waiting for him. He sat on his bed, leaning back against the bulkhead, trying to breathe deep and easy. The back of his head still ached dully where the wires had been injected. He put his hands over his eyes and sank into the silence of his bunk, occasionally aware of faint clomps as someone passed along the corridor outside.

He supposed that this was what Book had been talking about, when the preacher told him to grab ahold of someone. Sounded easy, and he knew these people would do it, most of them anyway. They'd sit with him, keep him awake or watch over him while he slept, if he asked. River and Zoë had offered already. But that just wasn't his way. He couldn't be the captain he was to these people after he let them hold his hand over nothing more than bad dreams.

Maybe there had been a time he'd have gone to Zoë; she'd seen him messed up plenty of times. But she had a husband now and Mal couldn't bring himself to make the demands on her that he used to. No, he told himself, it was better that he sit it out, wait until all this wasn't so close to tearing him to pieces. Then he'd be able to talk and joke about it, but not yet. For now it was best he keep it to himself.

"Once the drugs flush out, you should be fine."

Mal started and lifted his hands off his eyes. "Doc. I didn't hear you come down."

Simon held up a small flashlight, shone it in one of Mal's eyes, then the other. The light was painfully bright.

"No, this is all wrong," Simon said to himself, shaking his head as he studied Mal's face. "I need to do something about this."

Simon turned to Niska, who was standing behind him with his glass of cognac. Niska's free hand tapped a tray full of surgical tools, all lined up and ready for use. Simon set down the flashlight, and picked up a scalpel. Niska nodded with a smile, pointing to one of his own eyes, then tipped his head toward Mal. Simon turned back to his patient and raised the scalpel.

Mal was unable to move while he watched this exchange, but as the scalpel hovered an inch from his eye it occurred to him that he wasn't tied down. He used both hands to shove Simon's arm away, which didn't work so well seeing as how the doctor wasn't actually there. Mal tumbled to the floor and pushed himself back so he was sitting against the curved back wall of the cabin.

"So then," Niska said, "we will have to make do with the other man." He tipped his glass to Wash, who was strapped to an apparatus Mal recognized. Wash's shirt was open and electrodes were attached to his chest. Simon stepped up to Wash and brought the scalpel to his face.

Mal pressed his back against the curved wall and closed his eyes. Not real, he thought. Nothing I can do. He spread his hands on the wall on either side of him. I'm on Serenity, my brain is messed up, but I'm here. I'm here.

He concentrated on the surface beneath his back and arms, feeling in it the slight vibration from the engines. Behind the steel, cables and wires ran from the bridge to the rest of the ship. On the other side of the gap, the solid outer hull held back the emptiness of space. Less than a meter from his body: empty, dark, quiet space.

Wash's screams pierced the blackness.

Focus, Mal told himself, keeping his eyes shut. He slid his hands along the wall, picturing the curve of it extending up and around the 'neck' of Serenity, over the hallway at the head of the ladder, down the other side behind Zoë and Wash's cabin, under and up again to meet his back. He held the closed circle in his mind until it was solid, then he stretched it out to his right, over Kaylee's cabin next to his and Jayne's across the way, then on over the bridge. To his left the circle widened over the body of the ship, enclosing the dining room and kitchen, and underneath those the cargo bay.

A frame model of the ship pieced itself together in Mal's mind. He knew his girl, knew every knobby bend in every corridor, every secret hidey hole where two rooms didn't quite line up. Knew the air ducts and the spaces between walls where the systems that kept her alive and breathing had their vessels and lines. The Serenity in his mind looked like one of those cutaway doll houses he'd seen when he was a boy on Shadow, but his doll house had hinges everywhere. He could open her up however he pleased, admiring the sensible beauty of her form and exploring each compartment and everything in her.

There were little toy piles of crates in the cargo bay, and tiny curtains and candles decorating Inara's shuttle. The cushy chairs and sofas in the common room could be shifted around. (He avoided looking into the infirmary; he didn't want to see the glint of the silver instruments there.) He put mismatched chairs and a tiny wooden table in the dining room, with a lamp in the middle and placemats neatly arranged. Delicate strands of lights were strung around the entrance to Kaylee's bunk, and buttons and displays flashed on the console in front of the pilot's chair.

He finished building his model ship and found himself hovering in the blackness of space, looking down at it. Then the whole bridge section swung upwards of its own accord, showing him a cutaway view of the crew quarters. In his own cabin, Mal saw a little toy captain sitting on the floor, eyes closed and back pressed to the curving outer wall. A Niska doll holding a tiny amber cup was placed next to a plastic haired doctor with red hands, and the Wash doll strapped to the orange metal pyramid had empty, gaping eye sockets.

Mal whimpered as the ship in his mind shattered. He slid sideways to the floor and stretched out on his stomach, arms spread to the side with palms down. He pushed his thoughts into the steel of the deck, then under the bulkhead and into the next room. Slowly he built his frame model of Serenity again, with meticulous attention to every detail. When it was complete, he sped up time. The crew he imagined inside his ship moved faster and faster, pausing here and there before continuing on their business. They became grey blurs whizzing silently through the corridors, filling the seats at the dining table or the beds in their bunks, but never for long enough to be recognizable. Only the captain doll laying on the deck of his cabin was still, and the walls and floors of his ship grew more solid around him as time flew by.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon found River laying in the corridor outside Mal's cabin, her eyes closed and arms stretched out to her sides. When he touched her, planning to lift her and carry her off to bed, she pressed herself down, whispering, "I have to stay still. He can't see me, but I'm there. I'll disappear like everyone else if you make me move." Simon stroked her hair once, then left her. He returned a few minutes later to spread a blanket over her still form.

He chose a chair from the sitting area and pushed it toward her. Curled up in the chair under another blanket, Simon watched over River until his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
húndàn: bastard
lăo tiān bù: Oh, god, no
réncí de Fozu: merciful Buddha
năo-cào: hell

---

Chapter 17.

Zoë descended the ladder into Mal's bunk slowly, taking care with the steaming mug in her hand. She didn't notice him on the floor until she stepped off the bottom rung. He was laying on his stomach with his face turned toward her, eyes closed tightly and arms stretched out to his sides. His palms were pressed against the steel as if he was trying to hug the deck.

"Captain?" she asked. He didn't move.

"Mal?" Zoë crouched next to him and set down the mug. Given recent events, she was hesitant to startle him, but she gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Mal, wake up."

He opened his eyes calmly. "M'not sleepin'," he said.

"So what are you doin'?"

Mal blinked a few times. He started to draw his hands under him but stopped as his shoulders and neck cramped. Zoë helped him sit up, then left him alone while he rubbed his neck with one hand, keeping the other pressed to the deck.

"Don't think I can rightly answer that," he told her, seeming a bit disoriented.

"You looked a lot like River just now."

Mal smiled. "Has been a few days since I had a proper hair wash."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

Zoë picked up the mug and offered it to him. "I brought you tea."

"Everybody's gone to bed?"

"Captain, it's nearly lunch time."

"Huh." Mal carefully took the mug from her. "Guess that would explain why my neck is so stiff."

"Are you okay?"

Mal sipped his tea. "How's Kaylee?"

"She's a little shaken. But mostly she's worried about you. We all are."

"With good reason," he muttered.

"Sir, are you okay?"

Again Mal paused to sip the tea, and didn't answer her question. "Zoë, I need you to do somethin' for me. I want to talk to Kaylee. Come along, and stay close. If I start doin' anything… anything odd," he looked up at her, right in the eye to make sure she got his meaning, "you do what need to take me out."

It was Zoë's turn to be at a loss. She studied him; he certainly didn't look rested and she wouldn't swear to him being sane, but his gaze was steady on hers.

"Will you do that?" he asked.

"Whatever I can do to help. Sir."

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë waited in the dining room for Mal to have a little personal time. She watched Simon gather up a sleeping River and carry her to the passenger dorm, glad that they would be gone before Mal got there. It didn't seem a good time for the captain to be saying casual hellos.

Damned stubborn man had probably been up all night fighting his ghosts. She wished she could convince him that he didn't have to do that. At least, he didn't have to do it alone. She sighed; that was the thing though, Mal did need to handle it alone. It had become his way. There'd been a time when he would have talked to her about his troubles, but things had changed since the war and that terrible time after the war.

A person can only bleed out for so long, Zoë thought. At some point you learn to hold your wounds closed and trudge on the best you can, with nothing but your own two feet. And once you start doing that, it's hard to go about life any other way. Now Mal was the captain of his own small corner of the 'verse, and the fragility of this life was a burden that he didn't know how to share.

Zoë came out of her reverie when Mal came up his ladder and gave her a small nod. She followed him up the aft stairs, but stopped in the corridor a few meters short of the engine room. She gave him a questioning look.

"Why don't you go on in and check," Mal said quietly. Zoë understood. She entered the engine room and found Kaylee laying in her hammock.

"Hey, Zoë." Kaylee sounded tired. "Any word from the Cap'n?"

"Actually, he'd like to have a few words with you, if that's okay."

"He's here?" Kaylee tilted out of the hammock and stepped toward the door. She stopped when she saw Mal standing in the shadows of the corridor, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and head down.

"Cap'n," she said.

He looked up at her for just a second, then away. "Hey li'l Kaylee."

"How you feelin'?" she asked.

"I'm… just fine. Except I'm a little concerned 'bout you."

"You don't need to worry 'bout me, Captain." Kaylee stepped up the stairs and leaned against the wall across from him. "I know you didn't mean nothin'. I know you was just… " Kaylee couldn't finish.

"I was plumb crazy Kaylee. Still am a bit." Mal smiled wanly at that and looked over to Zoë, who had followed Kaylee up the steps, staying close. "But I want you to know… I thought you were a Fed. Or… I thought there was a Fed at that table who had you locked up somewhere and was gonna hurt you."

"Oh Cap -"

"But here's the thing. I really, really wanted to kill that Fed. I had my finger on the trigger and wanted to pull it. But I couldn't. River was right - I must'a known it wasn't a Fed, that it was you." Mal shifted his weight between his feet uncomfortably. "Point is, I ain't capable of hurtin' you Kaylee. No matter how crazy I am, I will never hurt you." Mal couldn't look her in the eye. "I don't want you bein' afraid of me."

"Cap'n," Kaylee's tone was admonishing. "I know you wouldn't hurt me. You don't have to tell me that." She stepped across the hall, started sliding her arms around Mal to hug him, but he pushed her away.

"No, Kaylee. I can't," he said, then he turned and walked back down the corridor.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë followed Mal as he stepped down into the dining room. Warning bells went off in her head when he stopped suddenly, standing very still and staring at the table. Then he did the damnedest thing: he turned aside, walked to the bulkhead, and pressed his palms against it. He leaned forward to touch his forehead to the wall between his hands, and stood there. After a while his breathing evened out.

Finally he straightened up, and slowly turned to Zoë.

"Doc's been sayin' he wants to draw some blood," she told him. "See if the drugs are clearin' out."

Mal was visibly relieved that she hadn't asked him to explain. He nodded and headed to the infirmary; all the way there he trailed his left hand along the bulkhead.

.*. .*. .*.

"Captain, how did you sleep?" Simon asked Mal as he unlocked the hatch and led the way into the infirmary.

"Didn't sleep exactly," Mal said as he followed him in, Zoë close on his tail.

"You really need to sleep."

"Not like I'm wantin' to stay awake." Mal flashed a tense look at Zoë as he leaned against the exam table. She stood almost facing him, but keeping her right side, the side with the gun, turned away.

"Are you still hallucinating?" Simon asked Mal.

"Now and then." Mal rolled up his sleeve.

"What are you seeing?"

"Rather not say."

"Captain, I am trying to help you." Simon tied a tourniquet to Mal's arm and turned to pick up a syringe. Zoë saw Mal tense, and put a hand on his shoulder. Simon pressed the needle into Mal's arm, not noticing how Mal's other hand gripped the edge of the bed.

"Thank you kindly, Doc, but you just stick to the blood and guts and let me keep my crazies to myself."

For once, Simon didn't argue the point. "It should get better as the drugs clear out of your system. Of course, sleep deprivation doesn't help." Simon pulled the needle out and turned away. Zoë exhaled and let go of Mal's arm.

"Have you eaten today?" Simon asked.

"Not hungry."

"That won't help either." Simon picked up a small flashlight. He flicked it on and raised it, but Mal slapped it out of the doctor's hand. "Don't do that!" Mal snapped.

Zoë stepped between Mal and Simon, but Mal had already pushed himself away from the table and taken three quick steps to the door.

"It's not the best time for a full check-up," Zoë told Simon.

"I can't help him if he doesn't –"

"You can't help me if I go and break your arm." Mal said.

Simon did a little throat clearing. "Fine," he muttered. He stepped back to the counter, looking from Zoë to Mal. "It'll take me a while to run the test, but if your system is clean I can give you a sedative."

"I don't want a gorram sedative."

"Captain –" Simon protested, but Zoë silenced him with a look.

Mal turned back to Simon. He took a calming breath and spoke softly. "You do real good work doc. I appreciate that. But not now. Dŏng ma?"

Simon nodded, then he stood silently as Zoë followed Mal out toward the cargo bay.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë let Mal stay ahead of her; the man was plainly not wanting to have words. He needed private time, but had to get out of his bunk. She knew how that was. She watched him settle on the deck of the cargo bay, out of the way where no one walking by would see him. She climbed to the catwalk and sat where she could see his legs sticking out from behind the crate he was leaning against.

She'd been sitting for a while when Jayne stepped onto the catwalk. She hushed him with a look, and nodded down toward the floor of the bay. Jayne spotted Mal, then quietly came to sit down next to Zoë.

"We'll be landing on New Melbourne in a few," he whispered. "Wash just talked to the Prefect. He'll be waitin' to meet us."

"You ready to have a talk with Ricky, explain why this kind'a thing won't be happenin' to the captain again?"

Jayne looked down toward Mal, then pulled out his knife and inspected the edge. "I'm real good at explainin' things."

Zoë continued staring down into the cargo bay while Jayne cared for his knife.

"They messed him up, Jayne," she said after a while. "I ain't seen him this bad off in a long, long time."

Jayne's mouth curled up a bit like it hurt him to say something nice, but he did it anyway. "He's a tough old wáng bā dàn Zoë. He'll be okay."

"Yeah. He better be."

They sat quietly for a bit longer. Eventually River entered the bay, looked up to nod at Zoë, then wound her way through the crates until she stood in front of Mal. The girl didn't say anything, just sat down against the bulkhead facing the captain.

Zoë turned to Jayne. "Let's take that as a signal to go on our way. River'll keep an eye on him now."

Jayne looked doubtful. "You really think that's a good idea?"

Zoë smiled. "Somehow, I think she can handle this." They went to gather what they needed for their planetside business, and joined Simon and Book in Shuttle Two a few minutes later.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal was sitting with his elbows on his knees, one hand clasping the other wrist. He didn't look at River when she sat down.

"When do I stop seein' things?" he asked her with a clenched jaw.

"Are you seeing something now?"

"Don't you know?"

River tipped her head up to the roof of the bay, staring into the shadows with empty eyes. Then she looked down and focused on the space beside Mal. "That's not really what Wash thinks," she said.

"I know. I think I know. It don't matter what I know." Mal was struggling to keep his eyes on the floor.

"Your brain is creating these things," River told him. "A part of your mind believes it; that's hard to fight."

"My mind needs to cut it the dìyù out."

She smiled. "It will. Soon."

Mal was quiet for a while, then he spoke half to River and half to the space beside him. "It's not like I make Zoë stay with me. I told her she should leave."

"She doesn't want to leave," River said. "Wash knows that. He doesn't want her to leave either."

He looked up at River. "How do you know?"

She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

"Fine, right," he said, looking away again.

River shifted to sit against the crate next to Mal. She passed right through Wash where the pilot kneeled, stabbing his finger in the air as he ranted.

"He'll go away," she said. She leaned her head against Mal's shoulder and waited. Neither of them reacted when the ship lurched slightly, entering atmo.

A few minutes later Mal exhaled and closed his eyes in relief. "It's gettin' better," he told her. "At least I sort of know it's not real, even if it still… ain't fun."

"Simon says the drugs are gone. But it won't go away till you sleep. Bruises need to heal."

He shook his head. "You saw what my dreams are like."

"They won't always be that way."

"Yours get any better?"

"I learned to live with them."

"You're a tough one," he said with a smile.

"Being tough is better than giving up. Laying down to die."

Mal shook his head. "I'm sorry you know about that," he said softly. "At least I had a few more years on me before I learned it."

"You gave me a chance to figure it out. Helping get me away from them." She looked up at him. "You know, it's not as bad as you think."

"What's not?"

"Everything."

Mal smiled. "No, I suppose not. Tough and smart, ain't ya?"

"Very smart." River climbed to her feet and stood up in front of him. "There's something important I know," she announced.

"What's that?"

"You need to talk to Inara. She's looking for you."

"Crazy girl, I'm not so sure Inara's wantin' to see me right now."

"Trust me. Smart, remember?"

.*. .*. .*.

Mal sat still for a while after River left. He heard footsteps clattering along the catwalk above and disappearing into Shuttle Two. He waited for the mechanical whirr and clunk of the shuttle undocking, then stood and looked toward Inara's shuttle. No matter how smart River was, she couldn't ask him to risk going through that again. He shook his head and turned away.

As he stepped out of the cargo bay toward the infirmary, he saw Inara talking to Simon in the common room. She glanced up at him, as did Simon. They were clearly talking about him. Mal whistled to himself and turned around again.

He was just reaching the catwalk when Inara caught up to him. "Mal – wait."

He took a deep breath; might as well deal with this now. He turned back to her and held his hands up. "Uh, hi. No gun, see?" She frowned at him. "OK, not so funny," he admitted.

"I wanted to talk to you."

Mal eyed her suspiciously. "You gonna start yellin' at me?"

"I have no plans to yell at you. At the moment." Despite her words, he could see her concern as she studied his face. "I have an idea, though – "

Mal interrupted her. "Look, I am havin' a bad day. I am havin' a bad week." He started backing away. "So as much as I like hearin' about your travel plans, or your rent, or your fancy client list, I think I'd rather have a little alone time."

"What, so you can get some sleep?" she asked pointedly.

"Maybe." Mal turned away from her.

"Mal, I just talked to Simon."

He stopped with an impatient sigh. "Bout what?"

"About how you can't sleep. Or eat. And apparently you're still… hallucinating?"

He didn't answer.

"Mal?" she prompted.

He turned back to her. "Fine, I am seein' things. There may be a few loose screws rattlin' around in my brainpan. So you may guess I ain't much into socializin'."

"Neither am I. But I think I can help. Come to my shuttle."

Mal laughed awkwardly. "Whoa, Inara, that ain't the brightest idea. You don't owe me a thing, and I…" he stopped himself.

"Yes?"

"I got no money to give you. Even if I did, I ain't interested in no high class whorin', no matter what fancy name you put on it." He said it harshly and waited for her to explode at him, but she just smiled patiently.

"Mal, don't get your boxers in a bunch. I have no designs on your… honorable person; there is nothing for sale here. I just want to talk to you."

She grabbed his wrist, and Mal found himself being pulled toward her shuttle.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
dŏng ma: understand?
wáng bā dàn: S.O.B.
dìyù: hell

---

Chapter 18.

Shuttle Two set down at a public landing pad a few blocks up the hill from the fish market in Sydney. Jayne waited while Zoë locked up the shuttle and sent Simon and Book off to meet the Prefect, then he started downhill, figuring she'd do what she needed to keep up.

He had a few guns hidden under his clothes, as did Zoë. They weren't too sure what would be waiting for them at the Delight of the Sea; the Alliance had asked Mal about Ricky, and the captain had told all.

When they got to the fish market, Jayne pushed through the crowd without pausing. He wasn't interested in the seafood displays on this visit; he had business to settle, and he meant to do some talking of his own this time around. He slowed down as they approached Ricky's stall, scanning for uniforms or smashed doorways, but nothing appeared to be amiss. He got a nod from Zoë and went up to the counter.

"Jayne Cobb and guest to see Ren-ren Lu," he told the worker.

"Sorry," the man replied. "Ricky very busy. May I ask what matter is?"

The worker stepped back in alarm as Jayne pulled up the hinged section of the counter.

"Matter is, your boss needs a little educatin'," Jayne said as he grabbed the worker by the collar and pushed him through the door in the back of the stall. He heard Zoë closing the gate and following behind him. By the time she caught up, Jayne had taken care of the worker. He tossed aside a large wooden cutting board he'd made use of and left the worker slumped unconscious in a corner.

Ricky was sitting by himself in the small office behind the kitchen. He rose with a startled look when the two of them crashed through the door, but tried to make the best of it.

"Mr. Cobb, pleasure to see you–" he started, but found himself lifted off his feet and shoved against the wall.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara pulled Mal into her shuttle and led him to the red sofa. "Have a seat," she instructed.

Mal looked at the peice of furniture, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the memories it brought up. "Can't we just talk standin'?"

"Why are you being so skittish? Sit!" she insisted.

"Skittish? Me?" Mal made a sound of disbelief, but then he shut his mouth and sat down. He wasn't about to do any explaining about his uneasiness.

Inara perched next to him, her hands folded in her lap and her manner all business. "Simon told me that there's no sign of those drugs in your blood anymore. The lingering effects you are experiencing are due to trauma and lack of sleep."

"That's very interestin', Inara. Thank you for the update." He started to stand up.

Inara put her hand on Mal's elbow to stop him. "Don't be stubborn. You need to do something about this."

"Which is why I am tryin' to get to my bunk to get some rest."

"You've been sleeping well there, have you?"

He pulled his arm away from her, but didn't stand up. "Sleepin' like a baby," he said sullenly.

"A baby insomniac? Sounds about right." She smiled sweetly.

He exhaled impatiently. "Very funny. Get to the point. What is so gorram important?"

"This." Inara picked up a plain black box from the table. It fit snugly in the palm of her hand.

.*. .*. .*.

"You set us up," Jayne growled as he held Ricky against the wall.

"I gave you easy job!"

"You knew the Alliance'd be waitin' for us."

"I gave you legal cargo! I paid tariff. I gave you bonus - big bonus! Even free food!"

"And a cavity search of our ship, courtesy of the Alliance. Could'a got us in a whole heap a' trouble."

"If you have something to hide, is your problem, not mine."

"It's your problem now, ain't it?" Jayne's grip tightened on the man's neck.

"Jayne, sit him down," Zoë ordered, like she was done letting her work out his mood. Jayne gave the man one last look, swung him around, and pushed him into a chair. He towered over Ricky while Zoë sat facing him, her carbine tapping casually against her knee.

"I don't think you realize the situation," she told Ricky in a calm, reasonable voice. "Our captain's brain got put through a shredder on account of your 'legal' cargo, and we're not real happy 'bout that."

"Not my fault!"

"Funny you should say that, 'cause the Alliance was real interested in you, and in your buddy Kamath. Just why is that?"

"I know nothing."

"Kamath asked us to carry something hush-hush for him. I got a notion 'bout what that was, but I'd like to hear what you have to say."

"I ship food, that's all."

"But you're workin' with him, and he sure as dìyù ain't shippin' no fish."

Ricky glanced nervously up at Jayne, who was cracking his knuckles with a look of anticipation. "Fine – I tell you" he said. "Is not bad thing to do." He tone became self-righteous and more than a little proud. "I been here long time, know everything happening, know who goes where. Is why Kamath come to me to make deal. I find people who might help and send them to him. If they get through, fine, he offers better job. More risk but more pay."

"So you know what he wanted to hire us for?"

"He never tell me details. I ship food and he ship what he wants. Not my business."

"But you get a little kick back."

"Not easy times, money welcome."

"You knew the Alliance would be onto us," Jayne interrupted.

"No!" Ricky replied quickly, a little too quickly. "All secret!"

Zoë tipped her carbine up against her shoulder as she studied Ricky. "Cap'n told the Alliance all 'bout you," she said finally.

"Then you lucky I not sending someone after you."

Zoë smiled at his flimsy threat and continued smoothly. "Which makes me wonder why it's lookin' like business as usual 'round here. You ain't even got any muscle in the place. I'm thinkin' that you ain't real worried 'bout the Feds."

"Alliance already knows about me. All I ship is food. My hands clean."

Jayne wrinkled his nose. "Hardly. So how come you told Mal that they don't know 'bout you on account a' how you're so careful?"

Ricky shrugged. "I tell little lie. But I am careful. They know about me, they leave me alone. I just sell fish, nothing else."

Zoë leaned back in her chair. "Does that story seem smelly to you, Jayne?"

"Yep. I'm thinkin' it's even a little fishy." Jayne was obviously pleased at his own wit.

Zoë managed not to roll her eyes. "Well then, you got any ideas as to what to do 'bout it?"

Jayne pulled out his knife. "I think I can come up with a few suggestions."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara looked down at the small box in her hand. "Companions screen their clients very carefully," she said, "but it's unavoidable that some… bad characters get through now and then. Especially out here on the rim where there are so many new clients and the Guild is far away." She looked up, but not at Mal. "Men can tend toward… violent tastes and may not understand the consequences of mistreating a Companion."

Mal stared at Inara, confused by her choice of topic.

"When a Companion has a bad encounter, she needs to heal." Inara held up the box. "This helps." She opened the lid; the box contained small white pills. "It relieves anxiety, allows one to feel at peace."

Mal had to chew on this idea for a bit.

"You ever need to take one of those?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Since you've been here on Serenity?"

"Yes."

Mal's face hardened. "Who?"

"It's been taken care of. The Guild takes abuse very seriously."

"I see."

Mal didn't see, but he couldn't handle thinking about this. Made him angry. Reminded him of another bad thing that had happened to a woman on his crew.

No, that never happened, he reminded himself.

"These provide restful sleep," Inara continued, "and if you dream, they're good dreams." She set the box on the table and rose to her feet, then continued talking over her shoulder as she left the room. "I talked to Simon about this after your… episode in the dining room."

"Episode. One word for it." Mal said softly. He rubbed his forehead, trying to shake the image of Kaylee, arms pinned behind her back, being dragged through a dark doorway.

"Simon ran some tests," Inara continued from the other room. "One can't just look this up in a medical catalog. It's not a common medicine, but something designed at the Academy." Mal wasn't listening, he was focused on ignoring a voice in his head: Look what we found, Captain Reynolds.

Inara returned with a glass of water. "He says it's safe, but wanted me to wait until those drugs were out of your system before offering it to you."

Mal didn't notice her sitting down next to him. He was staring at the rug next to the table. Wŏ de mā, he thought. I cannot take seein' Kaylee like that. Real or not.

"Mal?" Inara noticed his ashen face and followed his gaze. "What do you see?" She touched his shoulder and he started.

"I think it's 'bout time I got some sleep," he said with a nod and a tight smile. He took a pill from the box and washed it down with the glass of water she'd brought him.

.*. .*. .*.

"I no soldier! You can't cut on me!" Ricky yelled, clearly frightened of the large knife Jayne brandished in his face.

"That just makes the cuttin' easier," Jayne said with a grin. "All pudge, no muscle."

"I do business, get by. Did not want part of this!"

"You got a nice pair a'ears there, Ricky. You really wanna lose one?" Jayne moved the knife toward the body part in question.

Ricky leaned aside as far as he could to keep away from Jayne. "No! Not ear! Okay! I admit, I talk to Alliance. But I tell about Kamath, I say nothing about you!"

"That is interestin'," Zoë said. "You told them about Kamath, they followed him, and they got our captain. Did they pay you a lot?"

"I did not do it for pay!"

Jayne didn't look away from the cowering man as he asked Zoë: "How 'bout I get us some fillet a' whiny Alliance stoolie?"

"I'll stick to the protein," Zoë replied, "but please yourself."

Ricky didn't like Jayne's idea much. "Yes! Okay - I get pay from Alliance!"

Zoë's eyes narrowed. "Not a bad deal. You get to sell your fish without worrying about Alliance interference, and they get help flushing out insurgents. Plus, you make money from both sides."

"I don't want to work for Alliance. I have no choice. They shut me down if I do not help, and they say they will go after Mokhing!"

"Mokhing?" Zoë asked.

"My son - my only child! Lives on far side of New Melbourne. His mother not like me, take him away when he was very small. I not see him seven years, thought no one knew I have son. But Alliance know and say they will take him and make him work in mines in Georgian System. See, I have to do what they say!"

"Jayne," Zoë said. Jayne caught her eye and got the message. He curled his lip and reluctantly backed off Ricky a bit. "Ricky, when did the Alliance pull that on you?"

Ricky didn't seem relieved about Jayne giving him some distance. He continued to eye the knife nervously. "Two weeks ago."

"You wouldn't happen to be missin' a few days right before that?"

"What you mean, missing?"

"Like a few days passed that you can't remember."

Ricky looked away from the knife to throw Zoë a suspicious look. "How you know?"

Zoë shook her head. "Huài le. Jayne, sit down."

"But…" Jayne started to argue but stopped when he saw Zoë's face.

"Put away the knife."

Jayne did as he was told, but kept an eye on Ricky. Zoë put her gun away and stood up to pace the room, her head down in thought.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara took the glass of water out of Mal's hand and set it on the table. "Could you sit tight for a minute?" she asked. "I need to see to a few things."

He watched her stand up and walk across to her cabinet; apparently she felt it was necessary to light some incense. "So that's all you wanted to talk 'bout?" he asked.

"No, there's a few more things."

Mal waited, but she didn't continue. "Well?" he prompted finally.

"Can you just give me a few minutes?"

She sounded suspiciously like she was stalling; he didn't like that. But he was feeling less inclined to get away from her than he had a few minutes ago. Someone had hurt her. Someone had hurt Inara while she was living on this ship and he hadn't even known. She had turned to some fancy drug for help instead of talking to the people around her. Mal considered what the preacher would have to say about that, and he couldn't help smiling.

Inara was still moving about the room, placing candles and lighting them. Mal shrugged to himself and leaned back, waiting for the drug induced peace to come.

This whole idea didn't sit quite right with him. There certainly were enough feel-good pills to be had in the 'verse, but the easy way out often took a man a little more 'out' than was healthy. He couldn't argue at this point, though; something had to be done. His stomach felt hollow when he remembered the look on Kaylee's face when his gun had been aimed between her eyes.

Mal realized his eyes were closed and sat up. The heady scent of incense was spreading through the room, which was now completely lit by candles. The bed covers were folded to one side so that more than half of the bed was bare to the bottom sheet, and Inara was now spreading a thick blanket over that half of the bed. This all made Mal very uneasy.

She noticed he was watching her. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Ain't at peace, if that's what you're wonderin'." But the candlelight felt good on his eyes. Calming. It looked good on Inara, too. Mal shook his head; this was exactly where this shouldn't be going. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder why he was still there.

"Inara, I 'preciate this, thanks." He leaned forward to stand up, but the distance from sitting to standing was a lot further than it should have been.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she sat down next to him.

"I might be feelin' a little odd. I'll just be headin' to my bunk before I get any odder. I'll let you know how the sleep goes." But he still couldn't get himself to stand up.

"Why don't you stay here?"

"Cause I got a perfectly good bunk." He rubbed his eyes. "Very comfy."

"It's comfy here too."

"No it ain't." Mal propped his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his hands. He had to get out of here, but the idea of walking all the way to his bunk was overwhelming.

"Mal, it's okay. You can relax; you're safe here."

He turned his head to look at her. "You promise you won't start doin' any… Companiony things?"

"Companiony things?"

He rubbed his hands over his face again. The little pill was getting to him, no doubt about that. "I just need sleep, that's all."

"Won't be a problem." She gave him a warm smile and took one of his hands in hers.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë stopped pacing and looked at Ricky. "When did Kamath talk to you? Was it after those missing days?"

"Yes." The man was clearly perplexed by Zoë's change of attitude.

"So," Zoë summarized to herself, "they did the brain fry to you before you started working with Kamath, then they used your son Mokhing to get you to tattle later on."

Ricky didn't answer. He might have been figuring out that he wasn't in so much trouble with Zoë after all, but he clearly wasn't so convinced about Jayne.

Zoë sat down again and leaned toward him. "Ricky, there's some people havin' bad things happen to them because of you. But I'm gonna give you a chance to make up for it."

Ricky sat up straight. "I listen," he said.

"We're gonna take you to meet a friend of ours. Real dandy of a fellow. You and he are gonna make use of these contacts you've got."

"Oh no, if they catch me – "

"Our friend has some power of his own. And he's not real happy about the things that you and Kamath have been into. I suggest you play nice."

"Alliance bullies, dandy friend… either way bad for me!"

"He's a powerful, rich guy. You make yourself useful to him, I think he may be able to help with your son."

Ricky frowned as he looked from Zoë to Jayne. "I do not trust you."

"You got a choice?" Zoë asked.

He threw his hands up. "No, no choice. I will talk to dandy friend."

Jayne cut Zoë off before she could reply. "That's a real good decision, Ricky. You'll go see the man in a few. First, I think you're owin' us a little more in the way of a bonus."

"Jayne – " Zoë started.

"I kept my cool on the ship Zoë, now you just let me take care a' this my way."

Zoë was doubtful, but nodded to Jayne. She was a little curious to find out what he had in mind.

Ever since Jayne had dropped the word "bonus," Ricky had been staring at his money on the table with an expression of alarm. Jayne followed his look. "That there ain't enough," the merc said. "I think you might be needin' to call some friends to help you pay up." Ricky's look changed to a mix of confusion and dread.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal sharply pulled his hand out from Inara's grasp. "See, that's what I mean right there," he told her. "I don't want any a' that." He folded his arms over his stomach and glowered.

"Mal, you can tell me what happened, as much or as little as you want," she said gently.

"What happened when?"

"You know when. You're upset with me." When he didn't answer, she added, "River said that whatever happened, it hurt you."

"She told you that? She tell you anythin' else?"

Inara hesitated. "No, she didn't… tell me anything." She started to say more, then stopped. She seemed to be arguing with herself about what to say. Finally she continued awkwardly, "It might… help you if you explained it to me."

"It's none a' your damn business," he said harshly. Inara smiled gently, but Mal caught the hurt in her eyes. He found himself talking on. "It's just… I was down. Zoë was leavin' and everyone was actin' weird, and the preacher said…" Mal stopped. He was feeling relaxed, he realized, and that included his ability to direct what was coming out of his mouth. Keep it simple, no details, he told himself. "You were nice to me is all. It was just like this, in your shuttle. Little messier though. You were packin'." He looked around at the artwork and lush draperies, then his gaze settled on Inara. "You helped me."

"I can help you again."

"Oooh no," Mal said, trying not to remember how it had felt to let her help. Reclining on this same gorram sofa, his hand in hers, her thumbs working into his palm. Then she'd pulled him against her…

He redirected his thoughts. "Later. You got mean." You thought there was something between us? Poor Mal.

"What did I do?"

"You told me it was all Companion stuff. Like you were playin' me. Like you didn't…" Gōushī, too much detail. "I'm just sayin', I don't need any a' that. Okay? No Companion stuff." He looked at her. "Just let me get some sleep. Okay?"

"Mal. First of all, I wouldn't play you. You don't deserve that; you're a good man."

He looked away. The memory that brought back should have made him bitter, but oddly he found himself smiling at it, just a little. "That's 'xactly what you said before," he said, "right after you called me a pain in the ass."

"Then I was right on both counts." Mal shared her laugh at that. "But it's wrong to say that if I employ Companion techniques I must be 'playing' you. Especially if, by using them, I can help you."

Again, Mal suspected that this was dangerous territory, but he couldn't bring himself to be alarmed. "Help how?" he asked.

"How are you feeling?"

Mal thought about it a bit, then he smiled lazily. "Kinda nice actually."

"Then I… I have to tell you something." Inara suddenly sounded a little nervous. "Those pills have some… physical effects."

Mal needed a few seconds to consider this. He looked at her. "You tellin' me now?" She nodded, and Mal had to consider it a bit more. "If I didn't feel so 'at peace', 'nara, I'd be a mite ornery with you." But he smiled as he said this, and Inara let out a relieved sigh.

"Which is why I waited until now to tell you," she said. He managed to straighten his face enough to shoot her a dark look. "I'm telling you everything about it," she stammered, "I just… chose my timing."

"Physical effects?" he reminded her.

"It heightens sensation." His continued grumpy stare, though a struggle for him to hold, made her nervous enough to turn away and resort to lecturing. "The idea is to allow a person who's been through physical or emotional trauma to feel good in his or her body."

"Huh." Mal reclined fully and forgot to scowl as he pondered the meaning of that. Then he looked back at her. "Sensation?"

Inara shifted on the sofa so she faced him. Mal was sprawled, legs stretched out, arms limp at his sides, head tipped back but turned toward her. He thought that maybe this wasn't the most dignified pose, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

Then she touched the wrist cuff of his shirt lightly, and slid her hand up his arm to his shoulder. Mal felt molten heat radiating from her palm into his muscles, down to the bone. His eyes fell closed as his arm melted.

"Ooooh..."

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë left Jayne with Ricky's coworkers to finish collecting his bonus. She felt an all new respect for the mercenary; perhaps his motives weren't purely unselfish, but it was a damn fine idea. She wasn't about to argue with him over it.

She pulled Ricky along with her as she followed the directions the Prefect had sent. They passed into an older part of town and found Book making idle conversation with a well-dressed chaffeur outside an abandoned building. Simon was inside, sitting on a rickety stool at a dirty counter next to the Prefect. They both turned to Zoë when she came through the door with a bewildered Ricky in tow.

"My dear Mrs. Washburne," the Prefect said with flourish. He rose and seemed to want to do something silly like take her hand and kiss it, but he wisely settled on giving her a graceful bow. "I am relieved to see you arrived safely. It all went as planned, then?"

"Smooth as my man's left cheek. You all done, Simon?"

"Yes. We've just been discussing some of the implications – "

"That's nice," she turned back to Marone. "Prefect, I'd like you to meet our good friend Ren-ren." Zoë pulled Ricky up beside her.

"Call me Ricky," Ren-ren said distantly, clearly out of habit.

Zoë continued, "Ricky, this is the Honourable Prefect Trevor Marone. He's all kinds of interested in how things get from here to Oeneus. Prefect, Ricky here happens to be holdin' the hand of the Alliance. His other hand is holding onto a man named Kamath who likes hirin' people to run black market guns into your homeworld."

The Prefect gave Ricky a decidedly hostile look, but Zoë didn't give him a chance to talk.

"Prefect, I'm tellin' you now: walk soft around Ricky. He got his brain tore up by the Feds – you get all that stuff Simon's been tellin' you?" The Prefect nodded. "Well, they did it to him. And now they're threatening his little boy. I suggest you two sit down and do some talkin', and maybe you'll find a way to help each other out."

The wealthy politician and the grubby fishmonger studied each other doubtfully, but Zoë nodded with satisfied approval of her own matchmaking skills.

.*. .*. .*.

"Nara," Mal said in a bleary voice, "I'm thinkin' this might not be a 'propriate thing to be doin'." Liquid fire poured from her fingers into his neck and shoulders, and dripped down his spine in thick waves. "What 'bout my honorable, uh, whatever?"

"Fàngxīn. This relaxes everything. Your 'honorable whatever' is safe whether you want it to be or not."

"Damn." The word slipped out before he realized he was thinking it.

"You don't sound relieved."

"Don't I?"

"Come on."

Inara pulled a pliant Mal to his feet and helped him cross the room, sitting him on the blanket she had spread over the bed earlier. Then she pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Bein' a Companion's 'bout more than sex, ya know," he told her seriously.

"Is that so?" she asked with some amusement. "And who told you that?"

"You did." He gave her a lopsided smile. "You think I don't listen."

"Uh-huh." She pulled his shirt off. Mal sighed and closed his eyes as the fabric slid over his skin.

"This is some crazy medicine 'nara," he said, head lolling back a bit.

"Yes it is." She folded his shirt and set it aside. "Mal?"

"Hmmm?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but your pants need to come off. Would you prefer to do that yourself?"

Mal opened his eyes again. "Oh. Uhhh … sure." He grinned proudly. "Yeah, I can do that."

Inara discretely disappeared while Mal fumbled with his belt. It took some doing, especially when he realized a little late that his boots were still on, but he finally managed to get all of his clothes off.

"Lay down on the blanket, on your stomach," she called through a doorway. He heard running water.

"Don't know why you're so worried," he called back. "You seen me nekked 'afore." But he stretched out on the soft blanket with another contented sigh.

"Your being naked doesn't worry me." Inara returned to the room with a large bowl of steaming water. She set it on the table next to the bed. "But you're going to be mad enough as it is."

"I'd never get mad at you," he mumbled into the blanket.

"Of course not," she replied doubtfully as she spread a folded blanket over Mal's bare backside. "I'll just respect your modesty, Captain, to be on the safe side."

"That's ver' proper of… " Mal's voice broke off with a shuddery inhale as a soft cloth full of hot water touched the back of his neck, then slid down his spine to the small of his back.

.*. .*. .*.

The Prefect turned to Zoë. "I regret that I was never able to meet your captain," he said.

"I 'magine you'll get over it."

"He must be quite a man, to bring together such a crew."

"Yes, he is. Quite a man." Zoë turned toward Simon. "You ready to go?"

"Um, sure. Let me just…" Simon handed the Prefect a data chip filled with notes about the Alliance's new interrogation method. He looked at Zoë, then turned back and shook hands awkwardly with the Prefect. "It's been… uh… " Simon gave up. "Bye, now." He nodded to Ricky and headed for the door.

"This job's done." Zoë said, and she followed Simon out.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal had melted. At some point he was vaguely aware of Inara helping him roll onto his back. He was less aware of having arms or legs or, well, bones. He was a pool of molten metal bliss, stirred to flames where the soft cloth passed over him.

The fire continued to spread over the front of his body for a wonderfully long time, then he felt a blanket pulled over him, trapping in the heat, and a soft body stretched out beside him.

"Mal?"

"Hunnnh?"

"Would you like to sleep now?"

He didn't open his eyes. "Ain't I?"

"No. You should take a second pill to sleep."

He smiled just a bit. "No need t' hurry."

Mal heard a soft laugh, then he felt his head tilted forward and a pill placed in his mouth, followed by the rim of a glass. He sipped obligingly.

"This is nice," he murmured after she lowered his head back to the pillow.

"I'm glad."

He felt Inara lay down next to him again, this time with one arm stretched across his chest. That may not have been appropriate, but at the moment he didn't much of a damn.

.*. .*. .*.

The Prefect stepped out of the empty shop in time to see Zoë, Simon, and Book disappear around a distant corner. He pulled out his comm and gave some instructions to one of his most trusted aids.

"And get it done quickly," he finished. "I doubt they'll be staying on-world long."

He turned back and smiled to see Ren-ren following him out of the shop. This whole bizarre business had worked out quite well in the end, he thought.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal surfaced when he felt his hair brushed back from his forehead, and a gentle kiss pressed to his brow. This happened before, he thought. And then she left. She was lyin' about everything.

He decided he didn't care. Without opening his eyes, he turned his face toward Inara and reached across to caress her cheek. He felt her soft lips brush his, her warm breath making his skin tingle. Perfect. The word echoed through his mind and that hot fluid metal feeling poured from her lips to his, spreading slowly down through his body. His hand slid into her hair to pull her closer, and the kiss deepened. The silken softness of her hair burned his fingers, and she tasted like spiced wine: hot, heady and just a bit sweet.

An irresistible heaviness was taking over his mind. He couldn't fight it; he drifted into quiet emptiness.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations

wŏ de mā: mother of god
dìyù: hell
huài le: shit on my head
gōushī: crap
fàngxīn: don't worry

---

Chapter 19.

Mal stretched lazily and wondered why in the hell he felt so good. He was sprawled on his back under warm covers, eyes closed, still half-asleep, trying to remember if there was something he was supposed to be doing. A contact to make, goods to deliver, or maybe just a little old-fashioned bossing around of his crew.

Ah hell, he figured, it could wait. He was too warm and comfy to get up. He rolled to his side, bunched up the pillow under his cheek, and pulled the soft blankets tighter around his shoulders.

It felt like a couple of hours later that he approached waking again, dimly surprised that no one had come knocking at his bunk or hollering over the comm about whatever impending disaster the new day brought. Maybe it was time for him to check in. Well, almost time, he decided. He rolled to his other side, planning to curl up for another hour or two, but he felt something in the bed that wasn't quite right. He opened his eyes and lifted his elbow to find a slender white arm under him.

Huh.

He slid back a bit, his gaze followed the arm to a shoulder, a mass of curly dark hair, and a pretty sleeping face. Inara?

Mal was suddenly very awake. And very aware of being naked in soft silky sheets. "Shén shèng de gaōwánn!" he swore as he sat up.

"Mal?" Inara looked up sleepily. "Oh, I must have drifted off." She rubbed her eyes.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, clutching a blanket around his middle, and looked around with eyes still fuzzy from sleep. "Where're my clothes?" he asked.

"Next to the bed." She gave him a confused look.

Mal realized that "next to the bed" meant next to Inara's bed, not his own. "Zhè zhēn shì ge kuàilè de jìnzhăn," he muttered as he grabbed his pants and tried to pull them on without losing the blanket.

"Mal, it's all right…"

"No." He held a warding hand out toward her and shook his head. "No no. Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Know what?" Inara sat up and frowned.

"Whatever the guĭ happened here. And I don't want the crew knowin' either. Gorramit!"

He gave up his efforts with the blanket. He turned away from Inara, threw it off, and yanked his pants up as quickly as possible with a muttered "Ow, damn!" He fastened his fly and grabbed his shirt from the floor. "I don't need to deal with all their, ya know…" he waved a hand in the air in front of him as he tried to come up with the right words, "looks and comments and fèihuà." He finished by punching his arms into the sleeves of his shirt.

"Mal, nothing happened."

"I. Was. Naked," he told her, then he grabbed his boots and went to the sofa to put them on.

Inara rolled her eyes. "Nothing like what you're thinking happened."

"I got enough grief over Saffron," he grumbled.

"Saffron? That comparison's not insulting at all."

"We are just gonna pretend this never happened. Dŏng ma?" Mal stood up, banging his leg against the table. A little black box fell to the floor and white pills scattered all over the rug. He swore, stepped over them, and strode to the hatch.

But he didn't quite make it there. The sight of those pills started him to thinking, and he stood still while the fuzziness of deep sleep was replaced by memories of what had come before that.

After a long moment, he went back to where he could see Inara. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking composed and patient. He leaned against the bulkhead, folded his arms and stared at the floor. They were both still and quiet for a spell.

"It must have been nice to forget it all," Inara finally said.

"Be nicer if I didn't make an ass of myself."

She smiled and didn't argue. "So you feel better?"

Mal raised his head to look at her. "I feel fantastic," he said, sounding a little surprised. He went to the table and crouched to collect the spilled pills back into the box. "Powerful stuff, this," he said, holding one up.

"Indeed."

Inara rose and went into the shuttle's head; he heard water splashing. He was grateful for the time to gather his thoughts. He set the pillbox on the table and sat on the sofa, replaying what he could remember of recent events in his head. Āi yā, there was a lot that needed sorting out.

Inara returned with her face glowing from cold water, her hair neatly pinned back. She didn't join him on the sofa, but sat on the edge of the bed across the room from him.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"A little more than a day."

"A day?" He stared at her in disbelief.

"I brought you in here yesterday afternoon; it's almost dinner time now. Kaylee and Book have been cooking up something special. I came in to see if you were awake, and I guess I drifted off myself."

"A whole gorram day," Mal repeated to himself.

"You really needed the sleep."

"I did at that." Mal thought about it a little more, then he cleared his throat before continuing. "Inara, if I recall it right, you did Campanion-y things. After I told you not to."

Inara took a deep breath. "Actually, you phrased it as more of a request…" she gave up that argument at the look he gave her. "Mal, you needed to feel good. You needed to feel safe." She met his eye for a second, and then they both looked away. Mal had no reply to that, and Inara suddenly became very interested in one of her thumbnails.

But after a bit, she broke the silence in a small voice. "I hope you did," she said, "feel safe." She glanced at him then returned to her nail inspection.

"Well, I felt…" Mal didn't finish that thought. "Ah hell, Inara. This ain't my thing, talkin' 'bout all this. But I came in here a mess, needin' rest, and I got it. I got it in spades."

"So you're not mad?"

"No, I ain't mad," he said softly.

Inara smiled and moved on to a pinky nail. Then her smile took on a worried edge. She peeked at him one more time before she asked uncertainly, "You do understand that I wasn't 'playing' you, right?"

Mal watched her, thinking how odd it was that a "professional" could look so innocent. And the thing was, he had a pretty strong feeling that she wasn't acting.

"Yeah, I know that," he said. A relieved smile spread across her face.

Mal dropped his head and ran his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. Time to start sorting things out, he thought. The things that weren't so easy.

"Inara, I think I owe you a few apologies."

She looked up in surprise. "There's no need - "

"Yeah, I'd say there is," he interrupted in a voice that was maybe a bit too forceful. This was not his forte. But he took a breath and forged on. "I'm sorry about being such a húnqiú the past few days, and just now. All the stuff I was sayin' when I woke up."

Inara didn't reply while he paused to scratch his cheek.

"And I'm sorry 'bout the other day. Pointin' a gun in your direction and all."

"You weren't aware of what you were doing."

"Wasn't much of a comfort to the bunch a'you at the time, was it?"

"No," she admitted.

"And…" This was the tricky one, he thought. "I'm sorry 'bout last night."

"About what last night?"

Mal had to clear his throat again. "I'm afraid I took advantage of you."

"Mal. I drugged you, undressed you, put you in my bed, and gave you a sponge bath. Just how did you take advantage of me?"

"Well, when you put it that way." Mal grinned for a few seconds, then felt his smile fade as the uncomfortables came back again. "Actually, I, uh, feel I might'a crossed a line. When I kissed you."

"Oh." Inara chewed her bottom lip, then noticed she was doing it and stopped. "You remember that?"

"Not likely to forg– Uh, yeah, I remember it. Thing is, you were very clear bout respectin' my… honorable… modesty, and kissin' was not the right thing for me to do."

Inara surprised him by jumping to his defense. "Mal - I know about those pills. I know that, when in that state, kissing is…" She was, for once, at a loss for words. "Let's just say I'm glad you got to experience it."

"Ya are?" Mal asked doubtfully.

"Yes."

"But… you weren't in that state and I should'a thought 'bout that. Especially after what you told me. About those pills. What they're for. And you needin' to take em."

Inara plucked at her robe, looking thoughtful. Then she smiled. "Mal, you have been through hell in the past week and don't need something else on your overburdened conscience, so I'm going to tell you this." She looked up at him and her voice turned stern. "But I never want to hear another thing about it, all right?"

Mal was perplexed, but he nodded agreement.

Inara took another minute to think about it, then she continued. "You kissing me was… not entirely unpleasant."

"Really?" Mal's face lit up.

"Yes."

"Huh."

"Now… go do… captain things."

"Not unpleasant," Mal repeated to himself with a chuckle as he stood up. Inara stood up too, but busied herself straightening the bedding, her back to him. Clearly, she was done with this talk.

Mal crossed the room to the hatch, but stopped there. He wasn't quite done.

"Inara?" he said softly.

She paused in her bed-making, straightening with a sigh but not turning toward him. Expecting some sort of smart-ass comment, most likely.

"What, Mal?" she asked.

"I'm 'specially sorry I ever called you whore," he said. "I ought not've done that."

He left before she could reply.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal had a powerful need for a clean-up and some fresh clothes, and, more importantly, a little time for his mind to catch up. His understanding of the world he was living in had undergone some drastic shifts of late.

There was a bunch of activity happening in the dining room, but he managed to slip by the hatch and climb down into his cabin unnoticed. He sat on his bed, thinking. Remembering. Drawing lines between the real and the not real. He was relieved to find that the lines seemed to be staying put. Maybe it was time to finally make sense of things.

Not real:

Inara's cold rejection.

Jayne's betrayal.

Book's condemnation.

Zoë and Wash's desertion.

He shifted to lay on his back. He felt a knot growing in his chest, a sob of relief that threatened to force its way out. No one would see it here in the privacy of his bunk, but he suppressed it anyway. He didn't like to break down; once he started, he might not stop.

I never told about River and Simon.

I never went back to Serenity Valley.

The ship is whole.

Kaylee…

He rubbed his hands over his face, barely holding his calm. Stubble scratched at his palms, and that gave him something to focus on. Gotta get cleaned up, he thought, grateful for a task to busy his hands.

He went to the sink, hung a small mirror on the wall, and lathered up. He had to take a few deep breaths to steady himself before he picked up the razor, and he didn't meet his own eyes while he shaved.

The ship and crew were safe; he understood that now. Safe not only in terms of their well-being, but in terms of deserving his trust. He was less sure about himself. The Alliance hadn't put all this feìwù in his head, they'd just pulled it out into the open. He'd had to look right at it, and his gorram crew was bright enough that they'd figured a lot of it out too.

I'll never get anything but played, betrayed, damned, and abandoned

He had to set down the razor as the thought went through his head. Was that really what he believed?

The people on this ship depended on him. Their lives were in his hands, and now they knew as well as he did just how shaky his hands were. These troubles in his mind made him weak, made him vulnerable, and made him dangerous. He had to do better. He had to conquer this.

Mal finally looked himself in the eye, determined to stare down his self doubt. But he didn't make it long before he noticed something that had him leaning over the sink and laughing good and long. Wŏ de mā, had he just talked hard truths with Inara with his hair sticking straight up on one side of his head?

If Inara could take him seriously when he looked like this, maybe the crew could cut him some slack for having a few issues. Stranger things had been known to happen.

.*. .*. .*.

Once he put himself in order, Mal quietly climbed out of his bunk. He paused to look into the dining room at the crew. The table was set for dinner, but everyone was still scattered, doing their own thing.

Zoë and Wash were sitting on one side of the table with their heads tipped together, talking in low voices. Jayne and Simon were at the far end of table, engaged in a tense game of cards. In the galley, a giant stew pot was leaking curls of steam around the edges of its poorly fitted lid. Book lifted the lid to peek inside while he chatted with Kaylee, who stood next to him stirring something in a small saucepan.

Mal stepped through the hatchway, and he saw River laying across a chair in the alcove, her hair trailing on the floor as she examined the dining room upside down. She lifted one hand to wave at him.

All the conversations stalled when he came down the stairs. Everyone looked toward him but no one spoke; they seemed too unsure of his frame of mind to venture a comment. Mal focused his gaze on Kaylee, who nodded to him with an uncertain smile and returned to her saucepan.

He walked directly to her, took the spoon out of her hand, and set it on the counter. Unmindful of the silence and curious looks from around the room, Mal gathered the mechanic in his arms. She gave in to it easily, hugging his waist and burying her face in his chest, and he set his cheek against the top of her head. The room was quiet while they stood like that, rocking a little, Mal gently rubbing her back.

After a bit, he kissed the top of her head and tipped to the side to try to catch her eye, but she turned away from him with a self-conscious smile, wiping her cheeks. Mal smiled back and fluffed her hair, then went to take his seat at the head of the table.

Zoë was watching him with a smile of her own. "You feelin' better, Captain?" she asked.

"I am feelin' a great deal better." Mal sat back in his chair and put a hand on his stomach. "And I'm hungry as a gorram horse."

"Worked up an appetite with 'nara, did ya?" Jayne asked with a suggestive grin. The card game had been scrapped when Simon went to help in the galley.

"Jayne!" Zoë admonished.

"All right, here we go," Mal started in a raised voice (and the back of his mind had a second's confusion, remembering giving a lecture like this before.) "Before any a' this nonsense gets goin', y'all need to know that nothin' happened. I don't want to be hearin' any –"

"It's all right Mal," Wash interrupted. "Inara explained at breakfast that she slipped you a sleepytime pill. And I seem to recall her saying that anyone who gives you a hard time may find themselves feeling the adverse effects of certain other medicines." Wash gave Jayne a meaningful look. "I believe the term she used was 'long term limpness'." He demonstrated with a floppy hand, then wiggled his fingers at Jayne.

"A man can't help but wonder," Jayne replied defensively.

"But a man can keep his trap shut," Zoë said.

They were interrupted by an unusual sound from the kitchen, a soft hollow pop. Mal turned to see Simon holding something he'd not set eyes on in quite some time: a wine bottle.

"Who'd like to do the honors?" Simon asked.

Mal was too dumbfounded to respond, but Wash held up his mug eagerly and Simon poured him a splash of red wine. Wash made a show of holding the opaque mug up to the light and staring at the bottom of it, then he swirled, sniffed, held it up again, swirled and sniffed once more, slurped, swished, gargled, and finally swallowed the wine down.

The crew waited for his judgment.

"Kaylee?" Wash said.

"Wha'?" Kaylee responded from the kitchen.

"You're not allowed to use this to clean engine parts."

Kaylee guffawed in response, and Wash held up his mug for a refill. Simon ignored him and went about things in his own order, filling Mal's cup first with a quiet, "Welcome back, Captain." Then he moved on to Zoë, Kaylee in the kitchen, the mug in front of Inara's empty chair, and finally the last little bit in the bottle went to River.

"Never fear," Simon said with a smile, and he went to a box in the galley for another bottle.

Zoë figured it was time to explain to Mal. "Gift from the Prefect. He was awful sad that he never got to meet you, sir, but he sent a case of vino along to show his regards."

"Huh," Mal said, sniffing at his mug.

"It's an excellent vintage, from Chateau Allechante on Londinium," Simon said as he examined the label. "Must have come from his private cellar."

Mal took a sip. "I like this Prefect," he declared.

Zoë sipped from her own cup and shrugged, "I still ain't entirely sure what the man's up to, but this does go some way toward winnin' me over."

"We're just glad to have you back, Captain," Book said, and set a plate in front of Mal.

Mal sat still, his face frozen in shock as he stared at his plate. He looked around at the crew, then needed another long stare at his plate. River took his mug from his hand and set it on the table before he could spill it.

Finally, Mal managed to put a few words together. "What the hell is this?"

Jayne smiled proudly that he knew. "Lobster."

"I know that, but…"

"Bonus pay from Ricky," Zoë said, then she added dryly, "He's real sorry 'bout what he got you into, sir."

Book had also set a little bowl next to Mal's plate. Mal looked into it. "Is that butter?" he asked. "Is that real melted butter?"

Kaylee followed Book with a larger bowl. "And this is a salad, with tomatoes and carrots and cucumbers. Your baked potato will be right up."

"Sour cream?" Mal asked doubtfully.

"Of course!" She tucked a napkin in the neck of Mal's shirt and kissed him on the cheek. "Better get started Cap'n."

"But do y'all get…" Mal's question was answered when Book brought two more plates of large red shellfish, setting them in front of Zoë and Jayne.

"Turns out," Book said, "Jayne here is quite good at negotiating."

"Gorram straight I am," Jayne replied. He glanced at River. "Like this?" he asked, then he held his lobster up in front of him and tore it in half.

Simon, who had finished pouring wine and was just sitting down across from Jayne, dodged the spray of lobster juice and bits of shell with a fairly mild swear word. Kaylee congratulated him, but then suggested something stronger he could have said instead.

"Just aim toward your plate and you've got it," River told Jayne cheerfully. She was dismantling her lobster with neat precision.

Jayne grinned as he explained to Mal, "These here were easy to get," he held up the top half of his lobster to make it clear what he was talking about. "They had piles of 'em at the market. But I knew a man like Ricky'd have connections with local farmers and such, so I got us lots a' good veggies. And the dairy stuff too."

Simon made a disgusted face and griped, "But you should see what he got us for lunch tomorrow. It's hideous."

Jayne gave the doctor an offended look. "You could try bein' a li'l grateful. It's called manners." Simon opened his mouth in shock at having his etiquette corrected by the man-ape, but Jayne turned back to Mal. "You 'member the first time we went through the market?" Mal nodded and Jayne continued, "Well, I figure any fish 'at looks like part of the Cobb family has gotta be good, even if it's a funny color."

Mal was too busy pulling his dinner apart to reply, but he remembered the blue bearded fish from the market. He had his doubts as to how tasty it was likely to be, but wasn't about to complain.

"I have never seen an uglier fish in my life," Wash commented as his own dinner arrived. "Who gets to cut its head off?" He raised his own hand to volunteer.

There were soon lobsters and side dishes all around, and Kaylee and Book sat down to join the feast.

Mal was in the middle of tearing open the lobster claw with his teeth when Inara made her appearance, formally dressed and fully made up. There was no visible smirking from the crew, but there was a lot of watching.

To hell with it, Mal thought, and he gave her a smile and a nod of greeting. To prevent any comments, he turned to Zoë.

"So, what else did Ricky have to say for himself?"

Zoë told him about a budding partnership between Ricky and the Prefect. "The folks on these worlds got themselves a mess to deal with, but maybe those two will work a few things out."

"And it was all about some group gettin' guns? On some far out little world?" Mal asked.

"Appears so."

"And they're rippin' up people's minds for that," Mal said softly.

There was a short silence before Simon asked softly, "Captain, do you remember a lot?"

"Simon, don't bug him 'bout that now!" Kaylee admonished.

"It's all right Kaylee," Mal said. He took a drink from his mug of wine. They all waited as he thought for a minute, then he looked up. "I remember a lot a' very… odd things happenin'." He glanced around at his crew. "But for the life of me I do not know why I believed it."

"It was a construct of your own mind." Simon answered. "They took every doubt, every unreasonable little fear you have and they amplified it. You had no choice but to believe it. I'm just glad it passed."

Mal picked at the last of his salad. He didn't want to share what he was thinking, that there were bits of this that might never go away completely. But he let it be; he was back to himself and could handle it his own way now.

"You say they're doin' this to people all the time?" he asked.

"You're probably the only one who's ever remembered what happened," Simon said. "But yes, they've had people plugged into that imager ever since it was built."

"Mm-hmm, and I got away. Makes me think they might be wantin' to talk to me some more."

"That's not something you need to be concernin' yourself with," Zoë told him.

"Is that so?" Ma asked her. For the first time in a few days, it occurred to him to wonder: "So, just where exactly are we, and where're we goin'?"

"We're stayin' deep in the Black until we get out this quadrant," Zoë replied. "We got full fuel tanks, a few spare parts, a bunch of chow, and a little cash left over. And that's all you need to know right now." She seemed to realize too late what she'd just said to him. "Um… sir," she added.

Mal frowned at her for a moment, then he shrugged. "Okay."

Zoë turned to Wash to make sure she'd heard that right. Wash looked as perplexed as she did.

Mal drained the last of his wine and continued, "But only because I'm stuffed full of good food and wine and I'm tired."

"Tired?" Kaylee asked. "Already?"

Mal smiled. "Yeah, believe it or not," he said, "I think I could use some more sleepin'." He pushed back his empty plate. "Thank you kindly for making dinner, Kaylee, Book, Simon. And good work with the deal-makin', Jayne. The bunch a'ya put together quite a meal."

He stood up, then paused and turned back with a grin. "In fact, I'd have to say it was, uh… not entirely unpleasant." He flashed a wider grin at Inara, then turned away with a self satisfied chuckle. Inara dropped her head in her hands.

Everyone but Inara looked at each other in confusion after Mal left. "Ya think he's still crazy?" Jayne asked.

"No, he's not," Inara answered. "Mal is definitely Mal again." She took her plate to the kitchen to start cleaning up.

"Door's shut, no monsters," River declared. "But Simon, just to be safe, no playing with wires."

"Pardon me?" Simon asked, but River picked up her plate and went to help Inara.

.*. .*. .*.

A half hour later, Zoë climbed down the ladder to Mal's bunk, a box balanced on her hip. The bright overhead light was on, but Mal was stretched out on his stomach on the bed, fast asleep. He was fully dressed, like he'd barely made it there before passing out.

She set the box of guns down, then paused to study the captain. He appeared peaceful and unburdened in his sleep, and younger than he'd looked in some time. She glanced around the cabin. All the blankets in the room appeared to be trapped under him, so she picked up his coat. He didn't stir when she spread it over him. That surprised her; he probably hadn't slept that deep in years.

She dimmed the lights before she headed to bed herself. Wash would be waiting.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
shén shèng de gaōwán: Holy testicle Tuesday
zhè zhēn shì ge kuàilè de jìnzhăn: this is a happy development
fèi huà: nonsense
guĭ: hell
húnqiú: fink
feìwù: junk
kě wù de: horrible
wŏ de mā: mother of god