"Sir." Zoe stood over him, the soft grey top she was wearing moving in the breeze enough so that he could see the brown swell of her belly underneath. "Not dead yet?"

"Seems not, Zo," Mal said, his gaze transfixed for a moment until he had the grace to look away. "Ain't for want of trying, though."

"I'm sure Freya'll be happy to hear that." Her tone was dry, and she was perfectly well aware of the direction of his stare.

"She is." He pulled himself into a sitting position. "Where are the others?"

"Waiting to hear that you're okay." She pulled the com out of her pocket, thumbing the switch.

"No!" Mal said quickly. "Don't."

Zoe released the button slowly. "Sir?"

"Someone told them."

"Someone?" Jayne looked sideways at him. "You ain't thinking it's one of us, are ya?"

"No. Strange to say, I ain't." Mal rested his arms on his knees. "But I've got a fair notion of who it was."

"Sir?" Zoe asked.

River was nodding. "I think you're right," she murmured. She held out her hand to help him to his feet.

"I can get up by myself, little one," Mal said shortly, doing just that. "Tzao gao, why the gorram hell does it have to hurt almost as much as getting shot?" he complained, holding his side.

"So now what?" Jayne asked, standing more easily. "Back to Serenity? Only if they're watching …"

"No, not there. Well, we're not, but the girls are."

"To do what?" Zoe asked, letting his suggestion that she was a 'girl' slide for the moment.

"Tell Freya I'm dead."

"Is that a good idea, sir?"

"It's okay, she knows I'm not, but … did they get your half of the papers?"

"No sir."

"Then they'll be pissed, and want the rest. Except we have to make it on our terms, the way we want it." Mal eased the wet shirt away from his body, biting back a curse as it pulled.

"Are you planning?" Jayne asked, his face falling. "Only you know what happens sometimes with your plans."

"Only when people don't do what they're supposed to." Mal nodded slowly. "No. This time we get the upper hand. And to do that we're gonna have to stay dead."

"And where do you propose to keep your mouldering and corpsified bodies while you decide what next?" Zoe inquired.

"Dismembered and somewhat flattened, actually," Mal pointed out. "Not sure." He grinned. "But I know a man who might."

---

"Mr Kilbrook." Mal nodded at the image on the public booth.

"Captain Reynolds. I'm surprised to hear from you." The lawyer didn't look surprised at all. Something to do with his profession, probably.

"I need a favour."

"Really."

"Just a place to stay hidden for a day or two."

Now Kilbrook sat up. "Are you in trouble, Captain? As I explained before, I don't do that sort of work –"

"No trouble." Mal paused a microsecond. "Well, no more'n I'm normally in."

"Then why –"

"I can't go back to my ship just yet, and I ain't too sure about the hotels around here, whether they're … and Reilly trusted you."

"That's a back-handed recommendation."

"Only one I got."

Kilbrook considered the man on the screen in front of him. Reynolds was dirty, his hair was a mess and he looked dog-tired, but there was a fierceness, a determination in his eyes that he understood. "I have a house. It's on the edge of town, away from everyone. It's not in use at the moment. I think I can let you use it."

Mal smiled. "Thanks."

"I'll send you my bill." His lips twitched.

"That'll be … interesting."

"Or perhaps I'll just let you buy me a drink one day and you can tell me what this is all about."

"You're on."

"I won't meet you there, if you don't mind. Being seen in the company of someone like yourself won't do my reputation any good."

Mal smiled. "Just tell me where it is and how to get in." The smile widened. "Unless you'd like me to break the door down?"

"I'd rather you didn't. It's in the oldest part of town, off Jambeau Street …"

---

Kilbrook's house was, as promised, on the edge of town. It was a three storey building, all carved balusters and curlicued decoration, with a large garden and a high wall, and – more importantly – a rear entrance that wasn't overlooked, leading out into the desert.

"Perfect," Mal said, opening the door with the key he found waiting for him. They'd used River's stolen hover, dumping it while still a walk from the house, leaving Zoe and their psychic rescuer to take their own vehicle back to Serenity to get Simon.

"Mal, you sure got a weird idea of what's perfect," Jayne complained, stomping inside.

"Hey, don't do that." Mal sneezed and winced as the graze along his ribs pulled yet again. "Kilbrook was right," he wheezed. "No-one's used this in a while."

Dust lay thick on the floor, now hanging in the air as it was disturbed by their boots, and the covers that protected the furniture were grey with it.

"How long d'we have to say here, Mal?" Jayne asked, his own nose itching.

"Not long." Mal carefully pulled a cover from a chair, trying to catch as much of the cloying particles as possible. "A day or two max. Probably a lot less." He sat down. "They've got one half of the papers, and by now they've figured Zoe got the other. But they're unlikely to come and try for ours yet."

"How come?" the big man wanted to know, copying Mal's actions and sitting on a hefty sofa. "Why ain't they just gonna try and storm Serenity?"

"Would you?"

"Hell, no," Jayne said scornfully. "But I ain't stupid."

"And you think these guys are?"

"'Cording to Zoe, there's four of 'em who ain't gonna be thinking at all no more. And if'n it had been me, I'd'a shot us dead, first chance. None of this crap with the gunpowder."

"You have a point there," Mal conceded, hearing a familiar shuttle land close by. "So not the sharpest tools in the box. But that don't mean the person they're working for hasn't got all their faculties."

"Any idea who it is?"

"Some. Just find it hard to believe."

"So who –"

He was interrupted by the door flinging open and Freya hobbling through as fast as she could, Simon only half a pace behind her.

"Mal," she said, her heart starting to beat again at actually seeing he was safe, even though she'd known.

"Hey. Missed me?" he joked.

"Looks like they didn't." She leaned on her stick. "Didn't duck in time?"

"Must be getting old."

Finally she smiled a little. "No. Careless, maybe. Old, never."

Simon knelt down in the dust. "Shirt, Mal."

Mal pushed his suspenders from his shoulders. "You just can't wait to get me naked, can you, doc? Something you wanna tell me?" He undid his buttons, flinching as he pulled his arms out of the sleeves. The light glinted on the gold cross sitting around his neck.

"How about … sit still, this is going to hurt?"

"Already does."

"Then this won't make it much worse."

"Much?"

Simon ignored him as he continued his work.

"Mal, can you come back one time without an extra hole in you?" Freya asked, covering her concern with irritation.

"Wasn't my idea." He hissed as Simon sprayed the area with antiseptic. "Dammit, doc, you said it wasn't gonna be much worse!"

"Sorry, Mal, but you were in very dirty environment. And it doesn't look to have improved. Just be glad I'm not intending to clean it out much more than this until I can get you back to Serenity."

"Could be a day or two."

"I'll try and stop you dying from an infection, then." He reached into his bag to prepare a hypo with antibiotics.

"I'd be grateful."

"That could have been permanent," Freya pointed out, picking up Mal's shirt and hugging it to her.

"Still wasn't my idea." He watched her standing there, her brown eyes fixed on his face. "My favourite shirt, too," he said softly.

"I'd rather it was that than you." She could smell his blood on the fabric, through the scent of him. "Mal, when Zoe waved to say there'd been a cave-in … I mean, I knew it wasn't true, that it was in case … but if I hadn't already known you were okay …"

Mal stood up, taking her into his arms, feeling the shirt she still clutched between them. "Good job you did know then." He stroked her back, imagining the tattoo on her skin almost grey with worry and the discomfort she was in. "I'm sorry, Frey." Apologising for almost not seeing his son grow to manhood, for not being able to hold her again, for very nearly not growing old with her …

She let go of the shirt, wrapping her arms around him. "Next time someone offers you six girls, say no," she advised. "Not sure my poor battered body could take it."

"Hey, not sure mine could either."

"So you have a plan?"

"Working on it."

"Something to do with the stuff in Zoe's box?"

"Papers. Well, half. Not too sure what to, but it looks like land deeds."

She moved back enough to look into his eyes. "More clues?"

"No. I think this is the real deal. Only it 'ppears Reilly was still a mite distrustful. We've got the signed section, but the bad guys have the other half."

"They're gonna come looking."

"God, I hope so."

Simon sat back on the sofa. "Can I finish wrapping that now?" He pointed towards the graze still oozing on Mal's side."

Mal let go of Freya and glanced down. "Be glad if you did." He grinned. "Got some planning to finish."

---

"Gorramit."

"What?"

"Is this it?"

"Of course. You think I'd gyp you?"

"That hwoon dahn …"

"What?"

"It's not all here."

"You ain't making sense."

"There's only half here. The other part, with the signatures on, it's missing."

"Well, Jarvis ain't back yet. Maybe he's got it."

"And maybe he's rotting his guts out somewhere."

"Look, I brought back what you said."

"And had to kill Mal to do it, didn't you?"

"He'd seen us."

"And if you'd left him alive we might have had something to bargain with."

"You want I should go and collect the pieces?"

"No. There ain't nothing we can do for a while."

"We could always –"

"No, we couldn't. That's why I'm the boss and you ain't. You'd go charging in there, guns blazing, and get us all killed."

"There's more of us –"

"And they've just lost their captain and their friend. You think that don't make a difference?"

"Well, I guess it might."

"You stick to working out how to spend your share. Let me do the planning."

"You got an idea?"

"Oh, yeah. Surely have."