Long Road Home – Chapter Twenty One
Author owns no rights to Firefly or. . .why do I keep writing this when you already know it?
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Jayne watched the area in front of him closely. He and River had accounted for all he could see, but how many more men were there? He looked at her, eyebrow raised in question.
'No more' he 'heard' her say in his mind. 'All who faced us are down, one still lives but is wounded. Goldie has. . .' The voice broke off.
"Goldie is injured," she told him openly. "Come, we must get to him quickly."
Jayne raced after River, already running to the last place she'd sensed Goldie's presence.
They found him face down, blood already pooling around him. Jayne quickly gathered his old comrade in his arms, and started for Serenity.
"Go and tell Simon," Jayne grunted. What the hell did Goldie eat, anyway? River nodded, and ran ahead. Jayne made a few more steps and Zoe was at his side.
"What happened," she asked, her voice showing her concern.
"Ain't rightly sure," Jayne grunted. "Looks like a gunshot on his shoulder, and that's a knife slash 'cross his chest. He's lost a good bit o' blood. River's gone to get Simon alerted." Zoe nodded, not wasting anymore time or breath on questions.
Simon was waiting in the infirmary, along with Inara, who often assisted him when things went sour. Which, unfortunately, was often these days.
"Get him on the table, Jayne," Simon nodded, already gloved and gowned, as was Inara. Jayne gingerly laid Goldie's still form on the table, and stepped back. His own clothes were now bloody, but he ignored that. He'd been bloody before.
"Gunshot to the shoulder, knife to the chest," Jayne informed him. "Slash wound, not stabbed, but he's lost a lot of blood." Simon nodded, already working to staunch the flow of blood.
"Okay, we've got it," Simon said tersely, his normal tone when working on a patient. Jayne and River left at once, heading back out to secure the area, but Zoe hovered.
"Zoe, you really shouldn't be in here," Inara said softly. "It's not something you'll want to see, I'm sure," she added when Zoe's piercing gaze fell on her.
Zoe stood for a moment, hovering on arguing, but Inara's words, and intent, sank in finally. The warrior woman nodded, her eyes asking Inara to let her know when they knew. Inara nodded in affirmation to the unspoken question and Zoe left, walking slowly out of the infirmary.
Her feelings were in a tangle, she knew. On the one hand, Goldie was a member of 'her' crew, and she was responsible for him. And he had been wounded defending 'her' ship, and their livelihood.
On the other hand were her feelings for the man himself. Butler Tarrant. He wasn't an enigma, like Jayne had been. Just a former soldier, like she was. A man who had seen a great deal in his life, and not only survived, but came through the stronger for it.
And, if she was honest, was a very good looking man. She'd been lonely without Wash, but her feelings for her late husband had kept her from seeking out any sort of companionship. Her feelings for Wash would never die, never fade, but his memory had, a little. And the pain that struck her so often when she remembered him was growing less with each passing week.
At first she'd felt guilty about that. But River was right. Wash would not want that. He'd want her to live, even if he hadn't. She knew that she would have felt the same way, had the situation been reversed. She wouldn't have wanted Wash to go through the rest of his life alone, with nothing but her memory to keep him warm, keep him company.
When she'd met Tarrant, there had been an undeniable spark between them. She'd felt it even if he hadn't. Something almost electric had passed between them. His touch had been as shocking as a live wire in Kaylee's engine room.
And she had seen the same look in Tarrant's eyes. He might have recognized it, or might not, but he'd felt it, none the less.
And now he was lying in the infirmary, hovering near death if she was any judge. How unfair was that? How unkind could the 'verse be? she wondered.
"You okay, Zoe?" Mal's voice broke into her train of thought.
"Fine, sir," she nodded, stoic formality sliding firmly into place. "Got a man down, is all." Mal nodded.
"Simon'll see to him. Jayne and River are policing the action," he told her. "Jayne thinks at least one is still alive, but for how long he don't know. River says Withe was along, but lit out when things didn't go so well. He's likely hitting atmo by now."
"Orders?" Zoe asked stiffly, trying to force her worry aside.
"Just waitin'," Mal shrugged helplessly. "Harwell's on his way, already notified the law. We'll have to host that damn Sheriff Grippen again, I conjure. All we can do is let it play out."
"I'll be with my ship," Zoe nodded. "All my crew are off, so someone has to stand the watch."
"I'll let you know," Mal said softly. Zoe wondered, as she walked the short way back to the Companion, if Mal meant about Goldie, or the Sheriff.
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"Well, lookie here," Jayne said, standing over the one survivor of the attack. The man looked up at the big gunman, and grimaced.
"Need a doctor," he gasped out.
"An' that's a right shame, too," Jayne nodded. "Seeing as how he's so busy working on a friend o' our'n. A friend that your pals laid up. Might be so busy that you die in the meantime."
"You can't just let me die," the tough whined. "Ain't right!"
"Look at me close," Jayne growled. "See any concern about lettin' you pass on my face? I'm the one what shot you, hundan. Think I meant to just wing ya?" The tough paled at that.
"Reckon I'd be more amenable to helpin' ya, was you to tell me who it was hired you, and where I might find him. If," Jayne added with an ugly smile, "I was inclined to look for him."
"Don't. . .don't know what yer talkin' 'bout," the man on the ground gasped out. "Just got caught up in the fight s'all."
"Uh huh," Jayne grunted. "Just happened to be out here, shootin' at me and mine, in the middle o' the night, all on your lonesome. And just happened to run into a buncha others wantin' to do the same, I conjure." The man didn't answer that. There wasn't any point.
"Get me a doctor!" he exclaimed again, instead.
"How 'bout I just put you outta your misery, instead?" Jayne asked, drawing his knife from his belt. "Seems like a more fittin' thing to do, from my point of view."
"Withe!" the man didn't quite yell. "Withe hired us! Wanted to kill you all, and set fire to the place! Paid us, and promised us your women if we could take them alive!" Jayne's eyes hardened at that, and the man realized that he'd been a bit too forthcoming.
"I wasn't aiming to. . ." he tried to hedge, but Jayne wasn't buying.
"Like hell," he snarled. His hand was moving when another voice spoke.
"Jayne," River's voice was soft, but carrying. She'd 'felt' the coldness surround her lover. The blackness that meant that his hidden alter ego was loose. Jayne's movements stopped, but he didn't back away. His eyes were so cold that the man beneath him shivered.
"Jayne," River said again, just as softly. "Do not. There is no need. Not like this." Jayne still didn't move, and River was afraid that even she would not be able to stop him.
'We want this to be our home, ai ren." she pushed the thought at him. 'We cannot take a step like this, and expect to be accepted here. We have defended ourselves, now we must show restraint. Do not do this, bao bei.'
Jayne withdrew. Slightly. River sighed in relief as the darkness surrounding him brightened somewhat.
"'Spect the law'll have use for you," he said flatly, laying the knife away. "Just you lay here, and try not to die. If the doctor ever gets where he's got a minute, and I can remember that long, I'll tell him you need to see him."
With that Jayne stalked away, leaving the man lying on the cold ground, trying to stop the blood streaming from his shoulder. He tried to get up, but that voice stopped him.
"I wouldn't," a woman's voice said from the darkness. "He spared you for now, but knows no forgiveness. Or mercy. Stay down, stay quiet, and you may yet live."
He sank back to the ground. He didn't want to get up so bad anymore, anyway.
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Simon worked feverishly. Butler's wounds would not have been so serious had he not lost so much blood. And, Simon hadn't known his blood type. He'd started plasma right away, and then used one pint of Universal O-negative type blood to help try and stabilize the man. He'd type his blood as soon as he could.
The shoulder had been relatively easy. Remove the bullet, repair the damage, and sew it closed. The slash wound, though, was more problematic.
The problem with knife wounds of this sort was the clean-cut edges around the wound. There was little to work with, and the cut was deep. Had, in fact, been a good deal deeper than first inspection had revealed. It had nearly been mortal.
It wasn't the first knife wound Goldie had ever gotten, Simon noted in abstract. His body was cris-crossed with old wounds, much as Jayne and Mal were. That wasn't really surprising. He was a friend of Jayne's, after all.
"Simon?" Inara asked quietly.
"It's a bad wound," he grunted, working. "Went deep. Very deep. I've repaired the damage, but now I've got to double stitch it. With a wound this deep, surface stitches aren't sufficient. What a mess," he added, more to himself than Inara.
"Will he make it?" Inara asked.
"Maybe," Simon was non committal. "If we can get him stabilized. His blood loss has put a strain on his system. If we can keep him from going into shock, then he should be okay. Won't be working on any engines for a while, though."
"But he'll recover?" Inara pressed.
"If he lives, then yes. He should recover fully."
Inara wished she hadn't asked, now. 'If he lives' wasn't something she wanted to tell Zoe.
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Withe was almost to his ship when a familiar voice stopped him.
"Goin' somewhere?"
Withe whirled at once, hand dropping to his gun. Grippen shot him as he turned. Withe hit the ground hard, a slug in his abdomen. Grippen walked over to him, kicking the ship owner's gun away.
"Told you not to go over to Guilford's, didn't I?" Grippen growled. "Told ya not to even think o' backing out of our deal, didn't I? And here on the same day, you go and do both." His head shook in mock exasperation.
"That just ain't no way to do business, Wit," he said, looking down. "Now here you are, all shot. See what happens when you cross me? Bad things happen."
"G. . .go t...to hell," Withe managed to gasp. Grippen smiled at that.
"Well, as you'll be gettin' there first, be sure and save me a good spot," he said, and raised his pistol.
Withe never felt the bullet.
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"Funny how trouble seems to keep popin' up around you, Reynolds," Grippen said, eyeing Mal sharply. "Used to be a nice, quiet little place, here."
"Conjure that went south 'fore we dropped in," Mal replied evenly. "Seein' as how we was struck upon within the first hour we landed. And then as did it hadn't followed us here, neither."
"I allow for that," Grippen nodded in agreement. "Wasn't your fault what happened then. But since? Things has been a bit noisy with you around since then."
"Ain't our doin', and you well know that, Sheriff," Mal shot back. "We look after what's our's. That's all."
"Look after in a mite permanent way, I can't help but notice," the Sheriff observed, as bodies were being trucked away from the plant grounds.
"Sheriff," George Harwell said, stepping around Serenity from where he'd been listening. "How are you?"
"Fine, Mister Harwell," Grippen nodded, recovering quickly. "Just trying to get a handle on what happened. Was telling Reynolds here that his bunch seem to have brought a good bit o' violence to our fair home."
"That's a load, and you know it, Grippen," Harwell dropped his forced nicety. "Malcolm Reynolds has done nothing, nor has his crew, that hasn't been in defense of themselves, or myself and those who depend on me for work. Something," he stressed, "I might add, that you weren't able to do." Grippen's face reddened at that.
"Did what I could about your difficulty, Harwell," he growled, also dropping the false amenities. "You got no right questioning that."
"I have every right, Sheriff," Harwell smiled. "I'm a voter, taxpayer, and business owner. And I'm tired of this foolishness. I don't know if you were in on Zhang's plot against me or not, and don't really think I want to know." He eyes narrowed.
"But I'm giving you notice, right now. Any more 'incidents' that are beyond your ability, and I'll be taking the problem higher. Is that clear? Whatever you're doing, I don't expect it to involve me, or my people, in the future. And 'my people' include Captain Reynolds, and his crew. His entire crew. I trust I make myself clear?"
Grippen looked apoplectic. George Harwell was a powerful man, well connected in the planetary government. The Sheriff had been surprised that he hadn't called for help in dealing with Zhang. He might have, had it not been for Reynolds.
"You got no call to threaten me, Mister Harwell," Grippen blustered. "Nor interfere in my obligation to do my job. Laws against it, in fact."
"There are laws against corrupt officials, as well," Harwell shot back, unfazed. "I don't know, for a fact, that you are one. But listening to your little tirade against my ship owner and his crew, when you know damned well what happened, makes me wonder. Wonder a great deal, in fact."
"That's a harsh charge to be makin' against a man for doing his duty," Grippen snarled. "I'm only tryin'. . ."
"Enough," Harwell raised a hand. "I've made no such charge, yet. If your persecution of my shippers continues, I will ask for an investigation, however. Have in fact already made a record of everything that's happened in the past year, and forwarded it to a trusted friend, just in case anything 'untoward' should happen to me. If you take my meaning," he added.
Grippen was furious. But he hadn't been Sheriff so long by being stupid. He knew his 'office' couldn't bear any close scrutiny by the planetary judiciary. And he knew Harwell had the connections to make such scrutiny happen.
"Ain't no call for threats," Grippen grated out as politely as possible. "Like I said, just doing my job. Speaking on which," he turned to Mal, "I owe you a thanks for that information on Jenkins. Turns out you were right. It was Withe that did him in. At least according to their partner, Ball." Mal started at that.
"Glad to be of help," he nodded, to cover himself. He was glad George had heard him say that, seeing as how it meant Grippen couldn't use it against them later. It also meant that he wouldn't have to keep his promise to Jayne.
"Well, I'd better be goin'," Grippen nodded. "Got that one to talk to about his boss. Won't matter much, I expect. I got enough from Ball to arrest Withe on sight when I see him, and hold him for Astra. Be seein' you."
Mal watched the Sheriff walk away, wondering just when they'd see him again.