"River?"
She didn't want to open her eyes. Didn't want to see everyone a stranger, every face a mask. Masks slip, reveal the truth, expose the dead and rotting beneath a façade of ivory and gold.
"River, I know you're awake. We've been livin' together a while now. Ya think I don't know when my moonbrain ain't asleep no more?"
Not him. Not him. She didn't want to see his demons looking back at her, ready to pounce, to rend her limb from bloody limb in their haste to drown her.
"Just saying I'm here. 'N' I love you, no matter what you are. Loved ya when you were crazy, and when you … well, you're still crazy. Think that's gonna change? Just 'cause you might not be who you think you are, you figure that's gonna make it different somehow?"
It was so gentle. Stroking her mind, curving and cupping her thoughts as he did her skin, seeing the good inside, hidden by pain and layer upon layer of tormented memories not her own. Not hers. Who, if not hers? Who was she? Who was she?
---
Serenity landed in the middle of the storm that had been lashing Regina's main port of Queenstown for three days.
"We gonna be okay?" Mal asked, watching the lightening illuminate the clouds and the rain coming straight down.
"I've got us grounded, so we should be okay, even with a direct hit." Hank flinched as a particularly violent fork pierced the sky.
"You sure about that?"
"Course I'm sure." He managed to sound a lot more positive than he felt.
"Well, they'd better be here. I'm not in the mood for hanging around waiting on folks." Mal strode off the bridge, another flash throwing his shadow tumbling down the steps and along the corridor.
---
She could feel the electricity sending tendrils down her flesh, lifting the fine hairs on her arms, even though she was insulated against the shocks hitting the ground. It lit the corners of her mind, flares of insight and inspiration, burning into the eyelids of her soul as she hid from them.
"Jayne, we're down."
The captain, a good man, better than he thought, his heart more open and welcoming. Don't look. Don't see the darkness waiting inside.
"Figured that."
"You need to be getting to pick up the cargo."
"Not going anywhere, Mal."
Tightly wound, all knotted, wrapped around a core of certainly that he was who he was, nothing more or less. He knew. He was grounded, like the Firefly.
"That wasn't a request."
"Mal –"
"She'll be here when you get back, and the sooner you get going the sooner that'll be."
No room for negotiation. Do it now or wallow in the pit of corruption.
"You'll look after her?"
"She's my sister. Of course I'll look after her."
No 'of course'. No sister. Just a jumble of unknown cells orbiting a fragmented mind that won't look, can't see. Sliding a thumb between lips and biting down. Tastes like blood. But whose? Who am I?
---
Three people were waiting in the lea of a large container, a couple and a lone woman, trying to keep out of the worst of the rain, while keeping as much distance between them as possible.
"Do you think they'll take us?" one of the women asked the man.
"If it's God's will."
The ramp lowered, and Jayne stomped down, pulling his green combat jacket higher around his neck. He glowered at them.
"Excuse me," the man said, taking a step forward into the rain. "We heard you were taking cargo to Three Hills. Would you be taking passengers?"
Jayne looked him up and down, seeing the slightly old-fashioned clothes, the shirt buttoned right up but no tie, the tall hat. "Ain't me you wanna see." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "See the Cap." He strode off towards one of the warehouses, hunched in his coat to try and keep dry, mud and water flying up around his feet.
The man looked up into the ship's interior. Another man was standing in the dry, the gloom obscuring his face.
"Sir, my name is Cyrus Hetter. This is my wife, Ruth. Are you taking on passengers?"
Mal moved further forward into the light. "I'm Captain Reynolds, and that depends. We're headed for Three Hills, if that's your destination. Can you pay three fares?"
"Two. My wife and I." Hetter didn't even look at the woman standing a little way off, but there was something in his manner that made Mal's skin crawl.
"I see." He moved enough so that he could see her. "And you, miss? Sorry, ma'am." He smiled at her, noting the large swelling at her waist.
She smiled tiredly. "Miss is fine. And Three Hills is okay. Anywhere but here."
"And can you pay?" His voice gentled.
"I've a little coin. And what I can't pay I can work off in chores."
He laughed a little. "Can't see you scrubbing too many floors."
"Oh, I've done my share." A flash of fire lit her face.
"Figure maybe you have. Well, maybe we can negotiate, perhaps argue some. That's fun too."
"Sir … Captain Reynolds." Hetter spoke loudly to get his attention back. "Will you take us?"
"We've got the room. But if you're needing time to get your belongings –"
"Everything we have is here," Hetter said, indicating a small pile of boxes. "The Good Lord didn't see fit to grant us too much."
Great, Mal thought to himself. Another Bible thumper. "And you?" he asked the lone woman.
"He didn't give me that much either." There was humour in her tone, but an edge of steel as she glanced at the other couple. Mal wondered what Hetter had said to her.
"Then you'd better get on board before you wash away." Again he smiled, and this time hers was more real.
"Thank you, Captain," she said, picking up the large carpet bag at her feet.
"Here, let me," Mal said quickly, striding out into the rain to take it from her.
"Thank you."
He put his hand under her arm and escorted her up the ramp, making sure she didn't slip in the water that was pouring down it.
Hetter waited for similar assistance, but Mal didn't turn back for him. With pursed lips he picked up the first of his boxes.
"You planning on telling me something?" Freya asked, waiting in the cargo bay as Mal brought a very heavily pregnant woman on board.
"Well, I always kinda hoped you'd never find out, darlin'," he joked. "I guess I'm the epitome of that old saying – a girl in every port."
Freya laughed. "I didn't think you've got the energy."
"Not with you around, xin gan." He smiled, leaning in to kiss her gently.
"So we've passengers?"
"We do." Mal nodded back over his shoulder. "That there's Mr and Mrs Hetter, and this is …" He paused. "Don't think I caught your name."
"I didn't throw it." The woman smiled. "But it's Roxanna. Roxanna Caldwell." She glanced back. "And you're Mrs Reynolds?"
"No, Mal just goes around kissing all his crew," Hank said from the top catwalk. "Can get downright embarrassing sometimes."
"That man up there used to be my pilot, so you can ignore him," Mal instructed. "And yes, that's Freya. My wife."
"I like that name."
Freya smiled. "I like Roxanna."
"Thank you."
"You'll get to meet the rest of the crew soon enough," Mal added.
Simon looked out of the common area doorway, attracted by voices. "Mal, how long do you think we'll … oh, sorry. I didn't know we had guests."
"Passengers, actually."
The young doctor hurried forward. "You're joining us?"
"That's the plan."
Simon looked at Roxanna, his mind performing medical calculations. "How long until you deliver?" he asked.
"Don't worry," Mal said, smiling. "He ain't just being perverted. He's our medic, and if you're likely to drop while you're on board –"
Roxanna smiled. "Another month yet. If you get me to Three Hills on time, you won't need to worry."
"All but a week," Mal assured her.
"Still, I'd like to examine you. If you don't mind," Simon added quickly.
"No, that's not necessary." Roxanna folded her hands protectively over the large mound at her waist. "I saw a doctor only a few days ago, and everything's fine."
"I'd still prefer –"
She turned to Mal, effectively cutting him off. "If I could be shown to my room, Captain Reynolds. I'm a little tired. Unless you'd like to start some of that arguing now."
He grinned. "Not quite yet." He nodded at Freya. "My wife will make sure you're comfortable, and there's a meal in about an hour."
Freya smiled at Roxanne. "Come on. Let's get you unpacked and then you can have a rest. I know what it's like to be feeling as if you weigh as much as a house."
"You have children?"
"A son. He's taking a nap at the moment, but you'll meet him later." She turned to the Hetters. "There's a nice double room for you. Leave your boxes. If you need anything out of them, I'm sure we can find someone to help you."
"Thank you, Mrs Reynolds," Hetter said, nodding his head as if accepting his due.
Mal waited until they were all out of earshot before turning to Simon. "You think she's lying?" He'd picked up on the young doctor's unease when Roxanna had said she wasn't due for a month.
Simon shrugged. "It is possible she doesn't know. But any competent doctor would be able to give her a fairly accurate due date, just from the size of the baby."
"So you think she's further along than she says."
"I think it may be days, not weeks. Maybe even hours."
"Why'd she lie?" Hank asked, walking down the stairs, an odd feeling sliding up his spine, like he was in crosshairs or something.
"In case I wouldn't take her on board, I'm guessing," Mal said.
"Some ships won't carry pregnant women at all," Simon put in. "In case something goes wrong."
"So she ain't exactly telling the truth."
"Is Freya …" Simon began diffidently.
"I think so." Mal smiled. "Figure we might know a lot more about our passengers before we sit down to eat." He looked at his pilot. "Speaking of which, you'd better go see what you can get us in the way of supplies." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of notes.
"It's raining."
"Then you'll get wet."
"Do I get a wet weather bonus?"
"How about I don't leave you behind?"
"I catch pneumonia and Zoe'll be pissed."
"Then dodge between the drops. Get going."
Hank muttered under his breath but took the proffered notes, thrusting them into his pants before walking out into the rain.
Mal turned to Simon. "How's your sister?"
"Withdrawn. She won't speak to me. Not even Jayne. And he wasn't very pleased about being ordered off Serenity."
"He'll get over it. It was his contact got us the job, so it's up to him."
"He didn't want to leave her." The young man looked unhappy.
"I know, Simon."
"How long until we're back in the air?"
"Soon as they get back."
"I'm afraid, Mal."
"We'll get there in time."
"Not about Andrew. Well, not only about him. But for River."
"Maybe Freya can help. You know how that little girl looks on her."
"Perhaps."
"Can't hurt, Simon. Remind her family isn't just blood."
"You might be right."
"Sure I am. I'm captain. Comes with the job."
---
Jayne drove the borrowed mule up into the cargo bay and began unloading the several boxes from the back.
"Anything likely to explode?" Mal asked as he humped the last crate to the floor.
"Machine tools," Jayne said, climbing back on board the vehicle. "I checked."
"Good."
"She okay?"
"No change."
"Maybe I should take her back to the shuttle," the big man pondered. "Ya know how she hates that infirmary."
Mal nodded, as always surprised by Jayne's flashes of sensitivity, although since he'd been sleeping with River they'd increased in number.
"I think that might be a good idea. Speak to Simon when you get back."
Jayne nodded and reversed the mule back out into the rain, gunning its engine to throw a spray of thick muddy water behind before speeding away.
"We ready to go?" Mal asked Zoe, looking out into the murk.
"Hank's stowed the supplies and he's back on the bridge. He says thank you for the shower."
"He's welcome. Did he get enough?"
"I think so. There was nothing much in the way of fresh produce, but he's got some."
Mal nodded, still staring outside. "Frey needs it. You too."
"I'm fine, sir."
"I know that. I meant for Ben."
"I'm still breast feeding, sir." Her lips twitched as she saw him squirm, just a little. "I will be for a few months yet."
"Don't need to know that, Zoe." He still couldn't get his head around seeing her doing just that two days ago when he'd been making his last rounds, and gone into the dining area without checking first. As much as he'd seen her tackle almost anything, breast feeding a baby was one he'd never imagined.
"Although Hank said he'd be more than happy to feed Ben if I expressed the milk. He offered to help."
"Zoe …"
"Apparently you can get a pump, or do it by hand, only I think that might make me feel like a cow."
He turned on her. "Go. Away. Anywhere. Now."
She smiled at him and headed up the stairs, leaving him to await the return of Jayne. At least she could tell Hank she got a little back for making her man get soaked to the skin.
---
"You okay, honey?" Kaylee asked, stepping quietly into the infirmary.
Simon turned to her, trying hard to smile. "I'm okay."
"You sure about Andrew?"
He nodded. "I don't think Eli Harris was exaggerating. If Andrew's let anyone know he's ill, it must be bad."
"Dying?"
Simon pulled her close into him, inhaling her personal perfume of engine oil and hot metal, a scent that had been known to drive him insane with need, but now just soothed him. "Harris thinks so."
"He's a nice man. Andrew, I mean. Even when he was trying to persuade you to stay on Corvus."
"They'll be without a doctor now."
She looked up at him. "Not thinkin' of taking on the job?"
He shook his head. "No. Not now. I haven't changed my mind – I think Serenity's still the safest place for us. But I wish I could help them."
"You're a good man, Simon."
He tightened his grip on her. "I can't help her, though." He glanced at his sister, apparently asleep.
"You will, honey." She ran her hand down his cheek. "Can I sit with her a while?"
"Of course."
Kaylee pulled gently out of his grasp and moved the stool closer to the bed, hitching up onto it.
"Doc, can you join us in the galley?" Mal's voice echoed tinnily through the com system.
Simon crossed to the wall and thumbed transmit. "On my way." He looked across at his wife and sister. "Will you be okay for a while?"
"Shiny, Simon," Kaylee said, smiling at him. "We'll sit here and have a good old chin wag."
"I won't be long."
"Long as it takes." She turned back to River. "Got a lot to talk about, ain't we?"
Simon hurried out of the infirmary, but looked back before going up the stairs. Kaylee was holding River's hand, patting it gently, her lips moving as she spoke softly. He had to be able to help her.
Touching. Skin to skin, but nothing inside. No-one is who they say they are. Can't look. Won't see the lies within. Easier to pretend there's no-one home than be forced to confront the one who isn't there. Keep the masks in place and not peek. Not ask the question … who am I?
