Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: I had the unfortunate experience of standing too close to someone who'd just been given a safety whistle by her overprotective parents and just had to try it out. I do not advise it. The label says '180 decibels' for a reason.

This chapter's just a little bit of fluff. I needed it, though, because the story's about to start running down some very dark paths.

Brompton Cocktail

Chapter Thirteen

The job went down like most of their legal ones did – with nary a hitch and a decent payment that included a bonus for being earlier than expected. Mal had gone through the entire encounter with one eye on his mercenary and the other on their client. The faintly green tinge Jayne'd had in his bunk was gone, and even the man's slight loss of weight wasn't noticeable, not while wearing that heavy canvas coat of his. And if there were a few more lines radiating out from the corners of his eyes, then that could be expected. After all, Jayne was pushing thirty-seven, and in the life of a gun-for-hire, that's something that just didn't happen without a bit of premature aging. That all made perfect sense in Mal's mind, particularly when he tried to look at the situation as though he'd not learned what he had that morning.

And so, once Mal, Zoë, and Jayne returned to Serenity with a bundle of fresh credits, Mal was all for finding them a new job and heading back to work, half-formed notions of maybe figuring out where Jayne hailed from and if he was like to want to drop by home for a spell. His vague ideas were grounded when, on divvying up their take, Zoë met his eyes and said, "I've an errand to run while we're here, sir. Do you mind if I commandeer Jayne for the afternoon?"

The last time Zoë had made a request for 'commandeering' one of the crew had been about two months before Mal had accidentally walked in on her and Wash making use of an empty passenger dorm. So he really couldn't help the flicker of surprise that flashed through his eyes. On seeing it, Zoë's expression shifted slightly to one of indignation. A twitch of an eyebrow seemed to be calling him all sorts of nasty names, while a slight narrowing of her eyes said, 'Of course I have better taste than that, you gorram fengle man! This isn't exactly about me!'

It was probably a very, very good thing that the pair of them could communicate so much, so quickly. He just nodded his head. "Any idea how long you'll be?" Probably need to find medications for Jayne, then. I wish them luck and low prices.

"Shouldn't be more than a few hours, sir," Zoë replied. "I'll take a com-unit with us and call if there's any change in plans."

Not five minutes after Zoë and Jayne left, Oriole appeared with a bright red whistle in her hand. "You might want to plug your ears, captain. This is going to be extremely loud."

She didn't give him a chance to reply before lifting the whistle to her lips and blowing hard through it. She hadn't been lying. The deceptively small whistle let out a shriek that set Mal's ears ringing and brought Kaylee running from the engine room. "Daodi shi shenme, wo de feichuan baozha!? Women bei tunshi biyinao!?"

Simultaneously, Simon came running from the opposite direction. "Who blew the kidnap alert!?"

Oriole removed the whistle from her lips and blinked at it. "Is that what this is called?" She shrugged. "No matter. Give me a couple of minutes, please?" The blonde was wearing another soft t-shirt – done up in pale pink with a stylized cherry tree in bloom screen printed on it – but today it was pared with an ankle-length red skirt made up of some sort of crinkly fabric and her typical knee-high boots. She strolled to the end of the ramp and seemed to be content to wait, basking in the sunlight.

Kaylee rushed down the stairs and exchanged looks with Simon. "What the hell?" she muttered.

Simon shrugged. "Don't look at me."

They both approached Mal, who was trying valiantly to equalize the pressure in the ear that had been closest to the whistle. "Captain?" Simon tried to get his attention.

"Gorram thing's worse than a flash-bang!" Mal said. Or rather, he thought he said it, but with his ears ringing so badly, he wasn't entirely certain. And judging from the way the doc just winced, I don't think it was as quiet as I wanted.

"Kaylee, would you get my bag?" Simon asked.

She returned in short order, then stood back to watch as Simon checked both of Mal's ears, positioning herself so she could see Oriole, too. Using the portable cortex he carried in the bag, he typed in a quick note for Mal to read. No permanent damage done, though it might take a day or two for the tinnitus to clear up. If your ears begin bleeding or you don't gradually begin to regain your hearing, let me know.

"Ain't that just so shenhua ban de he teshu de!" Mal exploded. "Oriole! What the gorram hell you just do to me?" He paused for breath, "And why?" With his hearing temporarily out of commission, his inflection was all over the place and both Kaylee and Simon had to hide smiles at the unmistakably whiny note on the last word.

The three of them turned their full attention to the blonde. "Hey, I warned you to cover your ears, captain." Further explanations were halted as a dockrat ran up to her and threw skinny, dirty arms around Oriole's waist. "Ah! Tilly! You're still here, sweetheart. How's your momma doing?"

The waif grinned up at Oriole. "Better 'an last time ya was here, miss. Sends her thankees to ya."

Oriole waved off the thanks. "Don't fret on it, little one. You looking for work?"

The girl, who could only be six or seven years old, let out a weary sigh. "Ain't I always?"

"Good. How about you take this and find us some decent eats. Enough for seven grown-ups for, say, five good meals. No mystery-meats this time, though. Beef, goat, or chicken would be preferable." She handed the girl about half of the cash she carried.

Tilly counted the money and peered up at Oriole. "Too much here."

"Ah, possibly so, love. Tell you what, you also manage to find me a new set of guitar strings, too – good steel ones – and the change, however much is left, is yours to keep. Deal?"

The girl grinned, showing off one missing front tooth and one that was only half-grown. "Deal!"

Once the urchin was gone, Oriole looked back at her crewmates. "What were you saying?"

"What was that?" Simon asked, ignoring Mal's increasingly irate demands that someone tell me what the gorram hell's goin' on around here.

"That was Tilly," Oriole explained, her face faintly puzzled. "She's going shopping for me. I'm honestly glad it was her and not Mikel. Mikel's not nearly as quick, nor as reliable."

Kaylee was the one who connected the dots. "Oh! That's so sweet! You get the li'l ones to do your running around for you, so they feel all useful and won't see the money you give 'em as charity!"

Oriole shrugged. "Something like that. It's more of a case that kids are everywhere, and there aren't too many opportunities to earn some honest money in places like this for them. Some of the best sources for information are kids. Who pays any attention to them, after all?"

Seeing he was being ignored, Mal stormed off in a huff, heading for the bridge. I can see about finding us another job. Searching the cortex doesn't need me hearin' after all. The others continued ignoring him. "That…" Simon searched for the right words. "Actually, that makes a surprising amount of sense." He could clearly remember being a little kid and spying on his parents. To this day, he could probably give detailed reports on that one meeting his father'd had about the Christmas party they'd hosted when he'd been six.

Up on the bridge, River was already paging through the cortex. Mal halted at the door, feeling rather irritable. River turned her head and looked at him, a slow smirk spreading across her face. She did warn you, you know. Though Mal was positive River had probably actually said the words – he'd seen her mouth move – what made him startle was that he'd heard them, too, but not from his ears. They seemed to resonate in a tiny bit of bone between his eyebrows.

"Shenme?" Mal whispered. Or hoped he did.

River rolled her eyes. Reader, she thought at him, pointing to herself. That isn't just a one-way street. But it's harder to project, just like it's harder to write a story than it is to read one.

"Good to know, 'Tross. You findin' us any shiny new employment?" Mal wasn't entirely certain this previously-unknown aspect to River's abilities was altogether welcome, but he had to admit that it did have its uses.

You don't have to shout, I'm sitting right here. River rubbed idly at her own ears. Mal wondered just how loud that had come out. But not yet. Some hopeful nibbles, but nothing definite. Why don't you go read a book or something? I'll let you know when I find anything.

Sulking, Mal headed off to his bunk, wondering just when it was he'd lost control of his own damn ship.

A/N2: This'll be the last chapter I've got planned for today. Look for more tomorrow (or the day after if RL intrudes).

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