Steve yelled and yelled and yelled until I wrote this. It’s pretty much the longest chapter I’ve ever written. Also, admit it. I am evil. Or Steve is evil. Whichever.

WARNING: Much violence is about to ensue! Don’t read if you can’t stomach blood/gray matter splattering/dripping.

Also, a few folks have been asking me who Liam is. He’s mine. My creation, so don’t go looking for him in canon. You won’t find him there.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Fess Higgins stared through the little window, watching the medics operate on his father. His own scars attested to the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of those men. The ones who had come looking for Inara three days ago. He’d barely escaped with his life, but his father wasn’t looking to be so lucky. Three days of almost non-stop surgery, and all the old man had to show for it was yet more complications and the discovery of deeper and more severe wounds. Fess winced and looked down at his bruised hands, realizing that he’d unconsciously been clenching his hands into fists.

His thoughts trailed back to Inara. Did she know? Did she know that she had trouble on her tail? Why were they after her in the first place? He’d been fully prepared to die rather than betray her or the Hero of Canton- apparently he had so much more honor and integrity than his father, who could never care for anyone but himself. Fess wondered idly if he was still a hero, even though in the end his silence hadn’t done anything.

No. A true hero would give Inara a heads-up. A true hero would make sure that she was prepared, that she was safe. A true hero, like Fess, went to do just that.

-------- -- - - --- -- -- -

Inara Serra gently closed the door after her client, and moved to her seat. As soon as she had activated the controls, a little remainder popped up on the one of the screens, telling her that she had a few new messages- and that one of them was marked ‘Urgent’. Inara frowned slightly and opened that one up first. A face appeared on the screen. “Inara…” he said. His face was bruised and bandaged, barely even recognizable, but the voice gave him away. Fess Higgins. “You have trouble. Big, damn, trouble.”

--- -- -- -- - -----

Liam arrived on Persephone a few short days after the crew of Serenity had. It hadn’t been too hard to track them down- he’d visited the docks they had parked at over Unification Day, and found where they were registered to go next. Then it had been a simple matter of finding a good ship going in the same direction. He exited the August Presence- a ship that really didn’t live up to its name- and wandered around the docks, taking care to scan the surrounding ships for a Firefly. This was supposed to be the very same docks Serenity was headed for-

Liam stopped in front of the first Firefly he saw. He snorted. It was a piece of luh sa (junk/garbage)! How anyone could get that thing in the air was beyond him. He was about to pas sit by when he saw the name on the side. Serenity. Of course Malcolm had to pick the ship that would be the most challenging to keep space-worthy! Idiot!

Liam settled down against a small shack with the word ‘bathroom’ scrawled on the side, and waited to see if Malcolm would come out himself.

He didn’t have to wait long. The cargo bay door dropped open, and he could see inside, where Mal and some big lug of a man were loading up a mule. A young girl, probably even younger than Liam himself, was following Malcolm around, apparently begging him for something. Liam didn’t pay her any attention. Instead, he was wondering if he could get away with shooting Mal on the spot. Then the girl looked at him, and Liam, who’s mechanical hand was halfway to his gun, stopped. He decided to wait. He wanted to looked Malcolm Reynolds in the eyes when he blew his brains out.

---- -- ----- ----

“Said I could go on next job. You! You said!” River complained, hugging herself. “You’ll need me.”

“What makes you say that?” Mal asked, throwing the last of the cargo up on the mule.

“Bad feelings. Jitters,” River said ominously.

Wash laughed. “You’re Jitterbug now,” he muttered to the girl. She shot him a half-amused, half-exasperated glance. It reminded him so completely of Zoe that for a few minutes he felt frozen there. He was only stirred when River was dragging him out of the way. “They’re leaving!” she informed him. “You’ll get run over, standing where you are.”

Mal nodded to her. “You stay safe, y’here, lil albatross? No more fits, and maybe your brother will be nice enough to let you go on the next job.”

“He’ll find another excuse to keep me back by then,” River scowled, plopping down on the stairs. Mal grinned and drove the mule out of there.

Jayne grumbled beside him. “River only gets jitters when somethin’ bad is about to happen. You don’t reckon somethin’ bad is about to happen, do ya?” he didn’t look too pleased at the thought of getting shot again.

“Denver Collase knows us, we’ve dealt with him before, He ain’t gonna cheat us, or shoot us,” Mal said.

“That’s what you said about Trayce!”

Mal slowed the mule down, complaining to himself about Persphone’s crowded streets. “We’re here, anyhow.” They stopped in front of a small, rickety warehouse, squeezed between one sagging hardware store and another. A handful of men exited the warehouse as Mal and Jayne clambered down from the mule. Mal glanced over them and didn’t see Denver among the men. “There a problem here?” he asked. “I was meetin’ with a man called Denver Collase.”

One of the men snorted derisively as the others drew their guns. Jayne muttered under his breath, something like ‘told ya so’, and Mal’s own hand remained close enough to his gun to draw it in a hurry, if need be. “Collase ran into a bit of a problem,” the man drawled, toying with the hilt of the knife strapped to his side. “Now, I hear tell you run with a certain high-bred woman by the name of Inara Serra.”

Mal’s heart seemed to pick up its pace, but he kept his face smooth and his breath even when he replied. “Dropped her off a week back, when we were on Greenleaf. She’s probably found a new transport by now, gone off-world again.”

“And you got the smell of a liar. I don’t like liars,” the man, obviously the leader of the group, spat into the ground. “Now. You’re gonna take us back to your ship, real quiet-like, and we’re gonna nose around, see for ourselves if your story has any truth in it. It does, we’ll leave, no harm no foul. It don’t, we kill you and your entire crew, and take Ms. Serra to a meeting which she’s several years late for. Dong ma (understand)?”

He could tell that Mal was still unwilling to cooperate, so he applied a bit more pressure. “We already know you fly a Firefly, Serenity, and that you run with a shipful of nine. Five men, four women, one of them supposing to be Ms. Serra. I was hoping to leave you and the most of your crew alive, but you refuse to show us where your ship is, we shoot you, and track down Serenity ourselves, and kill all those you’re trying to protect. It will be especially unpleasant for the women-folk.” A cold chill ran down Mal’s spine at that last, and vivid images of these men hurting River and Kaylee played through his head.

“I suppose you got me at that,” Mal relented. “But just so’s you know, I’ve since lost a few. The Shepherd and my first mate… ain’t flyin’ with me anymore.” He phrased this last carefully. “They’ve been off longer’n Inara.” Mal added.

“I’m sure they have,” the leader sneered. “Leave that go se (crap) mule behind. We’ll take my shuttle. Considerin’ that Collase is indisposed at the moment, I’m fair certain he won’t mind you losing a few boxes of goods.”

------ -------- -- --- - --- - --

Wash drummed his fingers on the console. “I’m thinkin’ of getting me a bug. To add to the dinosaurs, for you,” he said amiably. River nodded distractedly, her thoughts far away, trying to find Mal’s, or Jayne’s. “’Cuz I’ve got a dinosaur for every other crewmember, even still have one for Bester, but I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to get one for you. Y’see, I needed to find just the right one. The kind of dino that’d fit your personality.” River smiled at her friend’s strangest quirk. “By the way, did you like that book I read to you the other day? It originated form Earth-That-Was, isn’t very popular anymore, dunno why, it’s a good book.”

River understood why he was talking so much. He was trying to take her mind off the job, trying not to let her dwell on it too much. Wash didn’t understand that she needed to watch over the captain, that without Zoe he was far more vulnerable than he thought. “Jurassic Park. Lots of dinosaurs.”

“And therein lies its greatness!” Wash enthused. “Ah, nobody gets it.”

“I do,” River said softly. “Fantastic creatures, feeds the imagination. Lets it run wild, lets the mind escape reality.”

“Huh. I guess you understand more than I do,” Wash frowned. ‘Lets the mind escape reality.’ He’d always prided himself on how clearly he thought he saw things, at least, privately, to himself. Maybe he wasn’t as focused as he thought he’d been. “Anyway, there was supposed to be some movies based off that book, but I haven’t managed to get my hands on them. Yet.”

River perked up at this, filing this information away for Wash’s next birthday. It should be easier for her to find them than it was for him. She was the psychic genius, after all. “Might soon. Many things have been preserved from Earth-That-Was, to pay homage to the future’s past, to never let us forget our origins. To remember all the good, and all the bad.”

“I haven’t heard too much about the bad,” Wash admitted. “They always make that place sound like paradise.”

“Not so. That was Eden, in Book’s Bible. There were wars on Earth-That-Was, there were massacres and… and racism…”

“Racism?” Wash repeated, shocked. Racism was unheard of. Unheard of!

“Pride of one’s own race and the hatred of another’s has been replaced by pride of one’s homeworld and hatred of another’s,” River rattled off, matter-of-factly.

“Oh…” Wash said in realization. Could that really be as bad as racism? Yes. He sighed. At least there was no chance he’d ever be guilty of that one. New Canaan didn’t exactly have much cause for patriotic feelings. “Well, one thing I gotta say- River?!” She’d left. “That’s a little rude…” Wash said out loud, but inwardly he was pretty worried. She could be having another fit, or something could be wrong with the ship, or… something could’ve gone wrong on the job.

River broke into Jayne’s room, hearing the men land their shuttle outside Serenity. She snatched a couple of his guns off the wall, hurrying herself along as she listened to them dragging Mal and Jayne toward the ship. She then slipped back out, not bothering to close the hatch behind her. River raced gracefully out of the bridge and onto the catwalk in the cargo hold.

She felt her stomach flop about uncomfortably when she saw Mal’s face covered in bruises and cuts. The ear Niska had cut off was hanging off the side of his head. The hun dans (bastards) pushing him along had apparently found the remaining scar, and decided to reopen that particular wound. Jayne wasn’t in much better condition. River raised her guns, taking aim at the backs of the intruders’ heads. No feeling, no attachment, no empathy, she told herself. Weakens the weapon. Doesn’t let it work right.

She heard Wash coming up behind her too late. “River? Something’s up?” the alst wasn’t a question, but now the men knew she was there. She half-turned to Wash, wanting to tell him to get out, that she could handle this. She heard the guns firing, and watched in horror as Wash stumbled back. The Weapon kicked in and screamed at her to turn around, to shoot the men who’d hurt Wash, WHY COULDN’T SHE MOVE?!

Wash raised his hand up to his chest, just above his heart and just under his collar bone. He stared at the blood on his hand, then looked back at River, reaching out to her. His hand brushed against the hole in River’s own chest, the wound she hadn’t felt. The bullet nestled in Wash’s chest had torn straight through her to get to him. They collapsed together, Wash forgetting his own injury and trying to stem the flow of River’s blood.

Their blood mingled together and dripped through the holes on the floor of the catwalk, some of it landing on Mal’s face, as if mocking him for this, reminding him of how much this was his fault. A roar of pain and rage tore form his throat, and he surged against the men holding him back, screaming, cursing and struggling until they beat him into unconsciousness.

--- --- - -- -- --

“Hand me that wrench, would ya Simon?” Kaylee asked from under the engine. Simon glanced down at the toolbox.

“Which one?” There were several lying around.

She pointed again. “The one with the big red handle. Big ol’ scorch mark on the side, came from when her back-up started fussing at me.”

Simon found the one she had indicated and passed it to her. “This is just a routine check-up, right?”

“Yeah, figured as long as we was parked I could take a peek under her engine, and make sure there isn’t anything she’s needing. If there was, then maybe I can try sweet-talking the captain into letting me pick up a replacement,” Kaylee chattered, her explanation somewhat muffled under the engine. They heard gunshots coming from another part of the ship. A loud thump let Simon know that Kaylee had been startled enough to hit her head. “OW- Simon, what was that?”

“Sounded like…” Simon stepped out of the engine room. “From the cargo bay,” he told Kaylee.

“Whatcha reckon is happening?” Kaylee asked, sliding out from her spot and following him.

“I- I don’t know. Stay here,” Simon gently pushed her back into the engine room and stealthily sneaked down the hall, following the gunfire down the stairs. Just as he was rounding the corner, about to pass the medlab, someone stepped out from the shadows behind him.

“Might wanna hold still there, pretty-boy,” a low, hoarse voice growled. Simon froze when he felt the gun nuzzle the back of his neck.

“Who are you? What’s-”

“Shut it!” the man snapped. Simon clenched his jaw with an audible snap. “Step real quiet-like back up them steps,” the man instructed.

Simon turned hollowly, his fear for River and Kaylee’s safety warring with his angry desire to fight back. Seeing as how there wasn’t much he could’ve actually done at the moment, Simon quietly let the man push him along, at least until he figured out where River was and how to warn her and Kaylee- and the rest of the crew, if he could.

The man dragged him into the common room, where he saw Kaylee, Mal, and Jayne already held up and bound to the chairs around the table, each of them turned away from the table and at different ends. Mal’s head was drooping, and he was definitely out. Then Simon’s eyes focused on the two limp figures that had been thrown so callously to the floor, left to lie in the growing pool of blood. His heart stopped, his throat tightened, and the entire ‘verse just seemed to freeze in that one moment. Cold sweat poured down his face and back, and for a longest of times he lost the ability to think coherently. River…

“No…” Simon choked out. Then his wits returned, or most of them. “No! River! No, no, River! NO!” He jerked away from his captor and raced toward her. One of the other men standing free in the room tried to grab him, but with the strength and fury born of adrenaline rush and desperate concern, Simon was able to beat him away, brutally. He reached the bodies and automatically checked for pulses. He found that both of them were still alive, but barely hanging on. It was then that the other men finally caught up with him. They dragged him up and away, kicking and screaming. “I need to help! I need- I need to see to them, I’m a doctor, they’re hurt, please- gorramit, let me go!”

He fought back with wild abandon, but there were too many of them. They grabbed his arms and legs and threw him into a chair. Simon bucked frantically against their strong grips, but they inexorably twisted his arms around the chair and bound him there. Then they did the same to his legs, and stuffed a dishcloth in his mouth to keep him quiet. River…

Angry and frustrated tears welled in his eyes, but he blinked them away. He didn’t want those men to see this weakness. Simon now hated them, hated them as much as he hated the men who’d held River at the Academy, as much as he hated the Operative who’d methodically killed all in his way when he was after River, diyu (hell), he hated them as much as he hated his own father, for abandoning River and for rejecting him. Simon’s chest heaved with the screams he couldn’t voice because of the gag in his mouth.

Kaylee bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to hold back her sobs. She didn’t want to look at Wash and River, or at all that blood, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the horrific sight. One of the intruders seized her by the jaw and jerked her gaze from her friends to his face. “We got us a call coming in from Ms. Serra. You’re gonna be a good little girl, and tell her park her shuttle. If you can’t act well enough to hide your fear, then lie and tell her something went wrong on the job. Well… that ain’t exactly a lie, so no sin against you today.” The man laughed coldly and cut her bonds.

“Don’t do it Kaylee,” Jayne blurted. This earned him a quick and cruel blow to the face. He spat out a mouthful of blood and glared defiantly at the man who’d hit him, daring him to do it again, even if he couldn’t respond in kind.

Kaylee stood up, trembling. She couldn’t see Simon’s face- they had him turned away from. She gave the leader a teary nod and followed him onto the bridge. She settled down in the pilot’s chair, pulling up Inara on the cortex screen. She half-hoped that the man would be stupid enough to stand in full view of the camera, but that was pretty wishful thinking. “Hey, ‘Nara,” she said miserably, stifling yet more hysterical sobs.

“Kaylee? Kaylee, what’s-” Inara’s face flooded with concern when she saw the tears on her friend’s face.

“Somethin’ went wrong- very wrong… on the job, is all. Just- just land the shuttle an’… an’…” I’m like that Judas fella from Shepherd Book’s Bible, she thought to herself. The thought brought on a fresh wave of tears. “P-please, ‘Nara…”

“I’ll see you soon,” Inara promised quickly. The man behind her was obviously satisfied with that, and reached over and switched off the link, being careful to keep every inch of him out of sight. I was gonna break, an’ beg her to stay away, Kaylee pouted.

“There ya go. I done it,” she said quietly.

“Good girl,” the man chuckled dryly and pinched her cheek. Kaylee grimaced and flinched back from his touch. This caused his face to flash with anger. He back-handed her across the mouth. “I been good to you so far. Ain’t damaged you none. Don’t make me hurt you more,” he threatened.

Kaylee nodded frantically, too stunned for anything else. She stumbled blindly back down the hall and collapsed in her chair. They re-bound her. Then, most shockingly, the leader tipped his hat to her, Simon, and Jayne, and backed out. His thugs followed suit. “Wait!” Kaylee called. None of them listened.

“Kaylee, what in the good diyu (hell) d’ya think yer doin’?” Jayne demanded.

“Why’s they leavin’ us?” she asked, bewildered, frantic, and scared.

“D’ya want ‘em to stay?” Jayne said in disbelief.

“Why would they just go, though?”

“Could be they was just after ‘Nara,” Jayne reasoned.

Kaylee struggled to grasp that concept. “I… she gonna be okay?” she asked in a small voice.

“Well I dunno,” Jayne mumbled.

“And what about Wash and River? They gonna make it? And the captain? Are we just gonna be left to die?” Kaylee rushed on, her voice gaining volume as she went.

Jayne was getting alarmed by her questions. “Kaylee, slow down would ya? Ya don’t know-”

“And that’s it! That’s it exactly! I don’t know! I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know if we’re all gonna be fine!”

A few of their captors stomped back in. One of them looked right at Kaylee. “Quiet, little girlie, and I’ll make this quick.” He raised his gun and aimed directly at her face, not even three feet in front of her. Jayne heard the gun fire, and felt blood and gray matter splatter across the side of his face, but couldn’t bring himself to see the corpse that toppled to the ground at the foot of Kaylee’s chair.

END CHAPTER

Please read and review!

Okay, so I was in the shower when Steve started babbling to me this time. Kinda embarrassing. Anyhoo, y’all are getting chapter six a bit earlier than I was expecting.

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CHAPTER SIX

This was bad. Bad, bad, bad. Bad, for many, many reasons. Wash had an entire list of the bad, had it all memorized. Bad because it was Unification Day. Bad because this was an Alliance-friendly bar with Alliance-friendly (and big, and strong, and scary) men about. Bad because he was here with Mal and River. Just. Plain. Bad.

Also, a good deal of Wash’s bad feelings could be attributed to the large crowd of large men hovering around him, all of them joyfully (and some a little weepingly) sharing their thoughts on all the good the Alliance had done. There were many, many toasts being made, and Wash was certain that anytime now they’d realized that he wasn’t toasting. He tried to distract himself by making small talk with River, but she kept steering it in directions like, ‘I’m old enough to drink’, or, ‘Simon doesn’t ever have to know!’.

This continued until Mal finally slammed down a small drink in front of her. River smirked at Wash, grinned at the captain, and greedily snatched up the glass.

“Wait, is that an alcoholic beverage? A beverage with actual alcohol in it? And we’re giving it to our favorite, young, and admittedly crazy little Doodlebug?” Wash protested.

“Ain’t too much,” Mal shrugged. “She can handle just a bit, can’t you, lil’ albatross?”

River nodded forcefully. “Don’t ruin this, Wash,” she chided.

Wash sighed. A new round of Alliance-friendly toastage began, and his bad feelings increased. Mal stood up, and suddenly the sirens in the dinosaur-loving pilot’s heads were screaming at the top of their lungs. “Whoa, whoa, hold it! Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get another drink,” Mal said innocently. Wash watched with certain dismay as the captain ordered his particular favorite-Ng Ka Pei- he couldn’t understand how the captain could even stand swallowing that stuff.

“If anything happens, River, I’m gonna have to be the responsible one- don’t look so horrified, Doodlebug!- and get you out of here,” he said.

“”Niska’s skyplex, Maidenhead, Reavers,” River rattled off. “I’m spreading my wings, not so little anymore.”

“Doesn’t mean that Simon won’t kill us if you get hurt in some stupid-”

River bolted up. “A toast!” she cried out. Everyone stared at her, some of them grinning, obviously finding this display cute. “A toast, to our great Alliance! Never has this universe been graced by such a militaristic and tyrannic government! May the political swine always live free and fat on our hard-earned tax money!” Her words hung in the air for a few minutes before any of them quite caught the insults. Then there roars of general dismay and displeasure. Mal chose this moment as an opportune time to ram his glass into the face of the nearest Alliance-friendly (and big, and strong, and scary) man.

And then the bar exploded into mayhem. People were rushing at Mal, choosing him to vent their displeasure on, since, of course, they were far too noble to beat on a little girl like River. Speaking of, there she was right now, dancing through their numbers, looking so innocent and charming that none of them could ever guess just how much damage she was really doing. Men (big, strong, scary, Alliance-friendly men) were falling around her, like a trail of destruction, and Mal was obviously so proud of her right now.

Wash could have refused to join in. Could have slipped out now. But he owed it to Zoe- he had to get in a few good swings for her, before one of those Alliance-friendly (and big and strong and scary) men knocked him out.

-- -- -- - -- -- - - --- - -- --

Liam leaned against the counter, nursing his drink. The bar was filled with the typical lowlife and vermin that one would expect to find in such a seedy establishment. Snatches of conversations around him grabbed at his attention. Most of them seemed to center on the browncoats who’d charged into this bar, yesterday, and started quite a brawl. Everyone seemed aghast by their audacity- it had been Unification Day, of all things!

Liam snorted derisively. Just another group of fools, couldn’t accept that the war was over. Right now one fellow, who’d had his jaw cracked by one of the Independents, was complaining loudly to anyone who would listen, and was taking Liam’s silence as a sign that he sympathized with the man.

“-I’m tellin’ ya, ‘e was huge! ‘E ‘ad a club in iz ‘ands, an’ I tried to let ‘im go, I did, I did, I told ‘im, whawazzit, ‘Ya can jus’ go, I got no grudge on ye,’ an’ he ‘it me, ‘it me in the jaw, an’ whaffor? I don’ know, don’ got no idea,” and so on. Liam found the man’s inability to use English remotely decently highly aggravating. “Jus’ up an’ ‘it me on the jaw!”

“Excuse me,” Liam interrupted, unable to bear hearing the man tell his story one more time. He moved over a few seats, and let the man he’d just ditched find a new victim. “Ng Ka Pei,” he said shortly to the bartender. The motors in his mechanical hand clicked and whirred when he handed over the glass.

“Now ain’t that funny,” Lima’s attention was diverted to someone else. Great, another drunk, just waiting to tell him his sob-story. “That’s exactly what that Independent got yesterday, right ‘fore he conked me in the head with his glass.” At least this one was still sober enough to form his words fully. Most of them, anyway. “And that fella you was just talking to, he weren’t hit by no man. Got his jaw broke by a woman. Little one, too, was just a slip of a girl.”

“Really?” Liam prompted. “At least this story was slightly more interesting than any of the others that have been forced down his throat this evening.

The other man nodded gravely, as the bartender handed Liam his glass. “She moved gracefully, though, like she was just dancing. And grinning, too, the entire time. She was knocking the go se (crap) out of every Alliance sympathizer in the bar, and having fun doing it.”

“Fascinating,” Liam said dryly, already loosing interest in the story.

“Funny thing is, I recognized one of the men…” the man trailed off, probably hoping for Liam to prompt him along. When Liam remained silent, he decided to just plow ahead. “His name was Malcolm Reynolds.” He’d been hoping for some sort of reaction from the name, but he wasn’t expecting what happened next.

Liam’s reaction was sudden and violent. He seized the front of the man’s shirt and hauled him up and onto the counter, sending drinks flying everywhere. “Reynolds? Malcolm Reynolds? Are you sure?” The sudden silence in the bar dragged out, as everyone stared at them in shock. Liam’s right hand, the one he’d lost in the war, and replaced with a machine he’d made and designed himself, tightened its grip on the man’s neck when he wouldn’t answer.

“Y-y-yes! I swear, I swear! It was him! I saw him a prison camp on Hera, after the war, I’d recognize him anywhere, he tried to organize a prison riot, or he was one of the leaders there!” the man spread his hands out and made plenty of appeasing noises, to convince Liam he was telling the truth. Liam stared fiercely in the eyes for a few more moments, before releasing him.

The young man directed his cool gaze at the other habitants of the bar. “Does anyone know where he went?”

No one dared to speak, at first. Finally, one man tentatively raised his hand. “Yes?” Liam barked.

“Uh, uh, I dunno where he went, but he took off in a Firefly. Uh, think it went by Serenity…”

Liam’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. Serenity. Well, wasn’t that all manner of interesting?

END CHAPTER

Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Firefly. Don’t sue.

Author’s Note: This is set during War Stories, a little AU-ish, definitely Mal/River. One-shot. Seriously. I have no intentions of continuing this.

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REWARD

The entire situation has a dream-like quality to it that makes Mal wonder if he is really awake. The girl in front of him is kneeling in supplication. Blood and tears roll down her face, and drip off the edge of her jaw to mingle on her collar. Mal’s own head is ringing from the force of the blows to his head, and his entire body aches with the abuse he has recently suffered.

The man who stand behind her speaks softly, his voice has a distinct accent. “She is quite young, no?” The man pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “And yet, your crew, they give her a gun. And she shoots, and kills my men. Good, faithful men, all. They will never return to their families, because of this girl. But they are not the only ones whose lives, uh, she has destroyed, no?”

Mal tries to catch River’s eyes, but she will not look at him. Instead, she inclines her head far enough to press her lips against the knuckles of his hand. He moves his hand away from her mouth to brush against her cheek, careful not to aggravate the numerous, though shallow, cuts on her face. This display is not missed by Niska, whose sadistic smile widens. “Ah, Mr. Reynolds… do you want to kiss her? Now?”

Mal catches his breath. The question surprises him, but he still cannot tear his gaze away from River’s fragile face. The answer is yes- God, yes, he wants to kiss her, so, so badly- yes. He wants to capture her lips with his, to taste the salt of her tears and the copper of her blood and the sweetness of her mouth. He says nothing, though, does not have to, Niska already knows. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he says, and Mal gets the feeling that he is quoting something. “Kiss her then. Kiss a woman, one last time before you die.” The implication is that Mal will not survive, that the rest of his crew will arrive too late to save him.

Mal stares at her face, outlined by the hair falling in curtains around her shoulders. As he stares, he feels like he is falling. It is only after one knee hits the ground, and his body is protesting in pain at the sudden downward movement, that he realizes that he is not falling, but kneeling down, to look at River face-to-face. Finally she looks at him, raises her brown eyes to meet the burning intensity of his blues. No dream has ever felt so alive. No moment has ever been so unreal.

He feels River’s breath, soft against hi face, unhurried and unlabored. Mal finds her calm to be disorientating and freakishly attractive. Her eyes briefly focus on his butchered ear, or whatever bloody mess is left of it. River’s gaze travels down his body, counts his wounds and measures the toll they take on him, calculates how much he is able to do, and how far they will go, should they try to escape. She looks back up and directly at him when she is finished. “Mal. Bad. In the Latin,” she says softly, and that is all the encouragement he needs. Mal kisses her, slow and soft, but with all the passion a tortured prisoner can muster. Niska sneers at his weakness. “You have both faired admirably. And so you get your reward.” He spreads his hands, and they waver in the air, mimicking scales. “But you have both also crossed me. And so you must be punished.”

Mal is barely following what his torturer is saying. This is his dream, isn’t it? He can do what he wants. And so he kisses River again. She tastes like childhood’s games, like life’s great trials, like a girl’s sweet laughter and like a woman’s wise mysteries.

Niska mutters something in an unintelligible language, and his guard moves to the pair on the floor. He pushes Mal back against the torture boards, and does not bother to be gentle. Mal closes his eyes and braces himself against the pain that penetrates the hazy fog in his mind. He can hear the bullets whistle through the air, can see Niska and his henchman fall to the ground, blood pouring from their wounds, but none of it registers. Mal’s universe centers on the girl crouched before him. He wants to kiss her again (isn’t this, isn’t this, his dream?), but someone pulls him away, tells him that they need to leave, asks him if he can stand on his own.

Mal does not answer. He just wants to kiss River, to hold her close to him and dry away the blood and the tears… This is his dream, his reward for being strong and for enduring the torture Niska put him through.

Mal sees River smiled at him, secretively, conspiring, but misses Zoe exchange a worried look with her husband.

THE END

--- - -- - - -- - - - - - - - ---- ----- ---- --- ----- -

Okay, if anyone liked this, please take the time to leave a review, ‘coz they’re shiny and my muse is hungry!

CHAPTER THREE

YEAR: Circa 2507 AD

Simon ran down the streets, dragging Kaylee behind him. They were both laughing in a breathless fashion when they got back onto Serenity.

Kaylee leaned on Simon. “Wow, this is fun.”

“I love welcome mats. Malefactors like us can just walk right in,” Simon smirked. “A welcome mat is just as good as an invitation… or even better!’

“Well, I’m so glad the both of you had fun on your little excursion.” They looked up to see Mal standing on the walkway. “Tell me, have either of you heard of ‘curfew’?”

Simon laughed. “Yeah.”

“Oh, but the greatest thing happened to us, cap’n!” Kaylee enthused.

“I don’t rightly care. I thought you was supposed to be bringin’ our girl back some needed parts. Where are those needed parts?”

“We left ‘em,” Kaylee shrugged. Mal stopped in his tracks and stared at her. Such a blatantly mutinous attitude was unusual for his mechanic.

“Kaylee,” Mal began, but Simon cut in impatiently.

“Shut up. Listen, I have a debt to repay.” Before Mal could retort, Simon bounded up the stairs and met him halfway up. He pushed Mal down roughly. “Where is everyone else?”

“Probably in their bunks,” Kaylee answered for Mal.

Mal fumbled for his gun. Simon casually knocked it out of his hands. “Go and check on them for me, would you Kaylee? The captain and I have some business to take care of.” Kaylee nodded and skipped off while Simon straddled Mal.

“Simon-“ Mal started angrily, but Simon hit him across the face.

“I said shut up! Now, you’ve taken me in, me and River. You’ve looked out for us. I appreciate this,” Simon paused. He covered Mal’s mouth with his hand and kept him pinned down. “You’ve given us a home, a family, protected and sheltered us. I need to return the favor.” Mal stared up at him defiantly, but also definitely curious. Simon leered at him. “I’m going to introduce you to a brave new world, Mal.”

Kaylee peeked into the cockpit. “Hiya, Wash!” she said cheerfully.

Wash bolted out of his seat. “Kaylee! Hey- you- where have you been? We’ve been worrying, and we looked for you guys, but you weren’t anywhere in town…”

“Sorry. The past few days have been a little… hectic…” Kaylee answered vaguely.

“Yeah, I’d say,” Wash looked down sadly. “Uh, Kaylee… Book’s dead. They found his body in an alley… no one really knows what happened to him, but… Well, Inara’s in town with Zoe, they’re talking to the police about it…”

Kaylee’s eyes filled with tears and her lip quivered. “W-what? H-he’s dead?” Wash hugged her tightly. She sobbed into his shoulder.

“I know… it’s awful…” Wash said lamely, not entirely sure what else to say. “Uh, are you all right? I mean, you’ve been gone a while…”

“Yeah…I’m fine,” Kaylee morphed into her vampire face. “In fact, never been better!” She pulled back and cupped Wash’s face in her hands. “And you’ll feel the same, soon enough.”

Wash’s eyes widened. “Kaylee? What-“ his last words were drowned out as Kaylee bit into his neck.

YEAR: 2807 AD

Daniel replayed the footage from Three Hills again. And again. The news reporters were covering the crucifixion of River, and then the demons came… he watched the Prince break down the cross and pick up his bride. Daniel ignored the screams and random violence of the townspeople, soldiers, or newscast- he focused on the worst of the vampires. Mal turned, holding River close to him, his face set coldly in dark fury. Behind him his faithful werewolf companion prowled. Even over all the noise the slaughter was making, he could hear Jayne’s hair-raising howl.

“Sir?” the Alliance soldier behind him dared to interrupt him. “Your ship is ready.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” he answered in his typical clipped voice.

“Yes, sir.”

Daniel watched the clip one last time. “Do you remember, monster, what you did to Fess and Inara Higgins?” he asked the image of the Prince. “Do you remember siring him and burying him alive? Do you remember throwing her from her balcony?” The image didn’t, couldn’t, hear him. He stepped back. “Would you? Are they just lost in your long list of homicides?”

He turned off the screen and left the room, heading for his ship. He would catch the Prince- and he would make him suffer for his crimes.

END OF CHAPTER THREE

RandR

CHAPTER TWO

YEAR: Circa 2507 AD

Kaylee nervously held the bags closer to her chest as she stood outside the local spare parts shop. She’d collected the parts she’d ordered (at least, the ones that she had managed to convince the captain that they needed), and now she was waiting for Book and Simon to pick her up. They were only supposed to make one tiny stop on their way.

She forced herself to take a deep breath. The store had closed hours ago, and it was nearing midnight. Usually that alone was enough to make her skittish, because she was really more of a daytime person. But now, with all those strange rumors and stories that had been circulating, night was starting to seem like a downright dangerous time.

Kaylee started whistling under her breath, trying to keep her spirits up. She shouldn’t have insisted on coming out alone when the captain offered to have someone escort her.

“Shouldn’t girls like you be home in bed by now?”

Kaylee almost dropped her packages. “Simon!” she was so glad to see him that she forgot to reprimand him for startling her. “God! Where’s Shepherd Book?”

Simon looked at her strangely. “He’s… he’s waiting for us. Come on.”

Kaylee followed him, grumbling to herself about the unfairness of having to carry all the bags by herself.

“Just drop them,” Simon told her irritably.

“Drop them?” Kaylee repeated, shocked. “Simon, what’s wrong with you tonight? You look a little off.”

“I’m fine,” Simon spread his arms. “Better than fine, Kaylee, and you’ll see why soon.” He pointed to an alley a few blocks ahead. “There. That’s where we’re going.”

“Why?” Kaylee asked. “Simon-”

Simon spun on her in a fury, knocking the bags out of her arms. “Stop asking so many questions, and just follow me!” He struggled to control himself as Kaylee shied back from him. “Look, I’m sorry okay? Come on… I just really want to get there soon.”

Kaylee bit her lip. She’d never seen Simon act this way, and it was really scaring her. She covered her hesitation by bending down to pick up the parts.

“I said leave them,” Simon pulled her away from the bags.

“But Serenity needs those! She’ll just fall right out of the sky if I don’t put ‘em in before she flies again!” Kaylee protested, tears forming in her eyes from her fear and confusion. “Please, Simon!”

“We’ll come back for them! Come, now!” he commanded her, squeezing her wrist so hard she started to bruise.

“Ow- ow, Simon, you’re hurting me!”

Simon ignored her, already walking to the alley and dragging her behind him. “This won’t take long, I just need to get you out of sight…”

“Out of sight? Ouch, Simon!”

“Yes,” Simon pulled her into the shadows with him. “Yes, out of sight, no one can see this.”

“See what?” Kaylee pulled her hand away from him, massaging her wrist. She looked back over her shoulder at the bags. “Simon, someone could steal those, or-”

“Or- or! Who cares?” Simon snapped. “They won’t matter anymore, not when I’m done, so Kaylee, please, just relax!”

Kaylee stared at him. “Simon… what are you doing?” she asked quietly.

“I’ve been given something wonderful, Kaylee, and I want you to have it, too. I want all of Serenity’s crew to have it,” he said slowly. Then, with a pained expression, he glanced toward the other side of the alley. “Well, everyone but Book…”

Kaylee followed his gaze, down the dark path, and landing on a sprawled form in a puddle of something dark and fluid. “Oh God! Book! Shepherd Book!” she cried out, stepping toward him.

Simon stopped her. “He’s beyond our help, Kaylee! I tried to sire him, I really did, but I did it wrong, fed too long or something, and now he’s gone. And stop screaming.”

Kaylee stared at him in horror. “Fed? You ate him? How could you eat…oh…” she stepped back fearfully.

“Don’t run from me, Kaylee. I’m only trying to-”

“No!” Kaylee screamed. “No, Simon, no! Not you! Please, god, no…” She tried to will her weak legs to run, but they weren’t working right.

“Kaylee, stop!”

“No, don’t hurt me!” Kaylee held up her hands.

“I love you! I wouldn’t hurt you, not ever! I promise! I only want you to be with me forever!” Simon pleaded.

Kaylee stopped when he told her he loved her. She leaned against the side of the building, with her hands over her chest and her mind still reeling from too many shocks and losses in a row.

“Now please, just stand still…” Simon whispered reassuringly, stepping closer to her and brushing her hair away from her neck.

YEAR: 2807 AD

Hoban Washburn III stared into his fireplace. He was a quiet, peaceful young man, and the war and bloodshed just wasn’t in his character. He hated the role her was forced to play in the slaughter of thousands, hated the way he was used for the Prince’s own destructive purposes. But he had no choice in the matter. For three hundred years the Prince had watched over his family, making sure that they were protected. He owed the Prince his life, and that of his entire family. Of course, at the moment, he was completely alone, with his parents recently deceased, and he having no wife or children of his own.

Times like these he wondered if he could get away with running form the Prince. Which, speak of the devil, almost quite literally… he walked over to his door and opened it to see who was knocking. Predictably, the man (uh, vampire) in question was standing right there, with his typical look of disdain.

“Can I come in?” he asked without any formalities whatsoever.

“Of course!” Hoban hastened to get out of his way. “You’re always welcome here. You should know that.”

“Good to know,” he whistled, and his giant werewolf trotted in obediently after him.

Hoban scratched Jayne behind his ears. The werewolf leaned up against him and thumped his tail on the floor. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure, Mal?”

The Prince flopped down on Hoban’s favorite chair. “What, no small talk?”

“Uh, how are you?” Hoban shrugged, sitting down across from him.

“Could be better,” Mal said. Jayne settled down on the floor in between them with a muffled groan.

Hoban smiled thinly. “I’m guessing that Jayne has seen better days as well?”

“Yeah, well, he’s older than most werewolves- not that a werewolf doesn’t live for a fair spell, but Jayne here- oldest one around,” Mal said glumly. “He has a few more miles left in him, though.”

Jayne woofed quietly, as though he could tell that they were talking about him.

“I’ve never seen him in human form,” Hoban said casually, still wondering why the Prince was here.

Mal scowled. “Thanks to the Alliance and their gorram ‘subhuman experiments’, he doesn’t have a human form anymore. Got stuck in wolf mode early on in the war. Doubt he even remembers what it’s like to be human. Not that it’s a bad thing.”

“And how is River?”

Mal stood up suddenly. Hoban, startled, quickly stood up with him. Mal started pacing agitatedly. “Mal?”

“You heard what happened to her?”

“No- no, I’m quite cut off from everyone else here,” Hoban answered, alarmed. As much as he was wary of Mal, he quite liked River. She was kind to him, and usually less actively anti-human than her partner.

“They crucified her,” the Prince moaned, collapsing back in the chair. “The dirty hun dans stole my Bride and crucified her!”

Hoban slowly sank back down. “How… how is she?”

“How is she? How is she?” the Prince laughed bitterly. “Weak- awfully weak. If a small cross can scar us bad, then just imagine how terrible it is to hang on a rutting big one.”

Hoban rubbed his eyes. “So do you want a spell?” Hoban knew that the only reason why the Prince guarded his family so zealously was because vampires couldn’t exactly perform magic, so he needed someone completely human to do the spellwork. “Because I think-”

“I don’t want a spell. I want my sire. I want Ripper.”

Hoban slowly tensed up. “Well, it’s hard to tell where he is now, he travels around a lot…”

“But you know where he’s been last?” Mal interrupted.

“Uh, yes…” Hoban swallowed hard.

“Good. Then tell me where that is, and I’ll be one my way with Jayne here.”

“What about River?”

Mal looked at him like the answer was obvious. “You’re staying with her.”

“Oh, of course…” Hoban smiled. “Well, that should be interesting.”

The Prince smirked. “Thank you for your cooperation. Now, for Ripper’s location…”

END OF CHAPTER TWO

RandR

CHAPTER ONE

YEAR: 2807 AD

Shepherd Cray Fullern locked the door to the church. It was very late at night, but he had gotten caught up in an interesting conversation about the Great Flood on Earth-That-Was with his good friend, Shepherd Mark Brammel. Brammel had apparently already left, so Cray was left to wait for the city transport to pick him up at the transport stop.

Cray Fullern sat down on the bench and flipped open his Bible to one of his favorite passages. He read in silence until he heard the whir of the city transport’s engine. The door opened, and Cray stepped inside.

“And where will you be headed, Shepherd?” the driver asked, looking at him over the edge of the seat. “This here’s my last run for the night, seein’ as how there’s no one but you two on board.”

“Ah, yes. Flinchly Alley, please, Apartment Complex D,” Shepherd Fullern said, looking back through the transport, and saw a man several rows back, fast asleep.

“Right then. Settle yourself down, Shepherd, and we’ll be on our way.”

Cray sat down in the seat right behind the driver. The transport door closed, and soon they were off.

“So, Shepherd, how come you’re out alone so late at night? All manner of nasty beasts are roaming the streets at these hours,” the driver said conversationally.

“I’m well aware of that. But God is watching over me, and I will put my safety in his protecting hands,” Shepherd Fullern told him.

“That’s a lot of faith you’ve got there,” the driver chuckled. “Ever wondered if maybe it was a little misplaced?”

“No,” Cray said, frowning slightly. “Wait- you missed the turn.”

“Well ain’t that a shame?” the driver laughed again. “Hang on, we’ll make a turn up here and go back.”

Instead of turning, they pulled over to a rickety old house and stopped. Cray stood up. “Excuse me, but I thought…” Cray noticed for the first time that although he could see his own reflection in the rearview mirror quite clearly, he couldn’t see the driver’s at all. The transport door opened, and a young woman stepped in, with dark brown hair hanging in curtains around her face.

“You brought me dinner,” she said a little abstractedly. “How nice.”

“Well, I couldn’t let my little albatross starve, could I?” the driver told her.

Vampires! Cray realized, stumbling back. He had landed himself with vampires! He looked around frantically, and saw an emergency exit at the back of the transport. He scrambled to it, making one last, fatal mistake halfway through. He stopped to save the sleeping man, only to discover bite marks on his neck and a badge identifying him as the real driver of the city transport. Then he was grabbed from behind by the male vampire. He got one scream out before he was gagged.

The vampires dragged him and the body inside. Cray was thrown to the floor of the old house. The full moon shone in through cracks in the wall, and a horrible rustling noise came from the back of the house. An impossibly large wolf padded forward and into the light, panting in its eagerness for a fresh meal.

“Here, Jayne, got you a nice young transport driver here,” the male vampire said enticingly.

The werewolf sniffed the body and growled.

“Sorry,” the vampire said apologetically. “I couldn’t resist a little nibble.”

With another growl the werewolf dragged the body into the shadows. Shepherd Cray tried to block out the horrible noises it made as it feasted on the driver.

The female vampire knelt before Cray and poked him a few times. “This one’s so old, Mal. He’ll get stuck in my teeth,” she complained.

“You have to eat, River,” the male vampire said gently. “You need to keep up your strength- especially after our last run-in with purple-bellies.”

“If you insist,” she sighed.

“Next time I’ll get you a pretty little girl. With flowers and bonnets and dollies for keep,” Mal promised.

“Okay,” she brightened up.

Cray leaned away from the vampire as she closed in, but inside he knew it was a futile gesture.

YEAR: Circa 2507 AD

“Why are you so worried about this?” Mal groaned in frustration. “It’s just the kind of stories that you tell your children to make them behave. You know- ‘eat your vegetables or a vampire will get you!’.”

Inara threw the newspaper on the kitchen table. “Because they’re more than just stories, and you know it! There have been rumors about this for ages-“

“And that’s all they are- rumors,” Mal cut in.

Inara ignored him and rushed on. “For ages, but only recently have they become a significant threat. Mal, this is the thirtieth body found like this in one week- and that’s just for a small border moon like this one! It’s even worse on other planets, especially on the Outer Rim! Look at the bite marks on this girl’s neck-“

“What makes you say they’re bite marks?”

“Because they’re also on the bodies of so many other victims- Mal, this is getting out of control! The facts are all lining up, and there’s too many of them to ignore-“

“There’s no facts! Only superstitious suspicions! People don’t have enough proof to find the real murderers, so they’re blaming all these killings on ancient myths from Earth-That-Was.”

“What about the werewolf sightings?” Inara asked passionately. “What about them?”

“I believe them about as much as I believe all the alien scams that folk come up with. ‘Sides, I’ve seen some pretty big dogs,” Mal shrugged.

“Fine!” Inara gave up, storming out of the common area. “Just keep ignoring what’s right in front of you!”

Mal wore his smirk until he was sure that he was alone. Then he looked down at the picture on the main page, focusing on two tiny little punctures on the dead girl’s neck, his face a solemn as it had ever been.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

RandR

CHAPTER FIVE

Simon stood at River’s side, looking down at her fragile face, and wishing that he could just crawl inside her mind and know what she had seen. Her face twitched, and for a moment, and agonized expression encompassed her face. His hand was halfway to her shoulder when she calmed down again.

“I know what she saw,” Wash said from behind him. Simon glanced over his shoulder. Wash took a deep breath before continuing. “It was my wife. She saw Z…” he found that he couldn’t say her name. “River saw her.”

“How come you know this for sure?” Mal asked.

“It was something River said. She said- corpse-ified and gross…” Wash received blank looks from the other two men in the room. “Uh, it was, uh, something I once said to- well, we were pretending that- that Jayne was a power-hungry maniac and he would kill us- and I started composing poetry…” Simon looked baffled, but Mal obviously didn’t care to know anymore. “Well, you were a bit busy trying to get yourself impaled on a sword, Captain,” Wash added.

Mal felt a certain chill creep down his spine. “She’s still here, Mal. You just don’t know how to listen to her yet.” He wasn’t sure if this was something that he should be telling Simon. Maybe after he talked to River about it himself. “Could be that’s the case. Even if it is, I’m sayin’ that it was just another one of her fits, an’ she’ll be right as rain with a little help from her brother, right Doc?”

Simon nodded. “It was probably caused by something she saw or heard on the job. Or even something she saw in our minds, if any of us were… were thinking about Miranda- and all that… Well,” he cleared his throat. “I’ll try a few different medications, but I really thought she was getting better…” This last bit he said to himself, already rummaging through his medical supplies. He pulled out a ruttin’ big needle.

Mal winced. He knew that River might hold a tiny grudge against him for allowing Simon to inject her with more of that go se (crap… right?), but Mal figured it was better to let the doctor think it was a reaction to stress rather than something much more serious.

Wash shot Mal a suspicious look, fairly sure that the captain wasn’t telling Simon everything. He didn’t voice his curiosity though. Pointing at Simon, he mouthed to Mal, “Is he talking to us?” Mal shook his head very slightly, then signaled that it might be time for them to leave.

---

River awoke with a start, much, much later. She was lying on the cold, hard ground, with grass forming a peculiar halo around her body. She stood up slowly, taking in the strange environment around her. River recognized the area around her as a military camp. A young man stepped out of one of the tents.

Malcolm Reynolds stretched idly, allowing the cool morning air to soothe his aching muscles. Huddled on the ground was a group of other Independents. One of them scowled at Mal. “’ow can y’stand it, Mal? Iffin ye’re askin’ me, it’s t’cold fer this time o’ year.” River could read quite clearly in Mal’s mind that this was Jasper. There was another one of Mal’s close friends in the group- Deverall.

“Ha!” Monty boomed. River half-smiled. She’d seen a lot about Monty in Mal’s mind, and before, in Zoe’s. “I hail from the coldest of all planets spinning! On Aberdeen it was considered to be a warm day if got anywhere near five degrees Celsius!”

“Ya, well, there y’go exaggeratin’ again, y’old carp,” Jasper said bitterly. “I don’ like m’summers to be any less’n sixty Cel! Even that’s perty cold.”

Mal and Deverall exchanged exasperated looks. River wondered how often Monty and Jasper fought. She hadn’t been able to get a lot about Jasper from either Mal or Zoe, so she could only guess that he hadn’t been around for long. “Deverall, when were we supposed to be getting our new batch of soldiers?”

Deverall scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I thought they’d be here by now. Career military- aren’t they supposed to be better at staying on time than volunteers?”

“No need to wait! Here they are now- our angels,” Monty motioned at the new batch of soldiers.

Deverall swore under his breath. “I’ll be, Mal- isn’t that our damsel in distress? The one who stole your gun?”

Mal and River followed Deverall’s gaze to the young black woman. He whistled. “I’m thinkin’ you’re right on that.” They both recognized Zoe, but for Mal it was only on a subconscious level. He was reliving a memory, and he wasn’t supposed to know her name yet.

Jasper snorted. “She’s the hussy who attacked you, after y’gone saved ‘er life?” River shot him a dark look. She did not like him calling Zoe that.

“Well- she’s very-very- strong and… agile-like,” Mal flushed.

The woman also seemed to recognize him too, because she lifted her chin up at him, a silent acknowledgment. Mal nodded at her. The moment seemed to somehow hang in space, dragging on for much longer than it rightfully should have. River could see that this is when their close bond started. From this moment on they would be almost inseparable-

-With a twinge of pain and guilt, River remembered that Zoe was dead. This was no memory- it was yet another dream, but it wasn’t hers, and-

She fell to the ground, screaming. “River!” Someone was calling her name, but he seemed very far off, almost indistinct. River felt as though icy cold hand had wrapped its fingers around her heart and was squeezing. She whimpered from the pain.

Suddenly Wash was pulling her up. River gasped and touched his face. “You’re real.”

He blinked. “Yeah, okay. So… bad dream?”

“Wasn’t mine,” River pulled away from him and hugged herself very tightly, trying to shake off the chilling pain in her chest.

Wash threw one arm around her shoulder companionably. “Well, since you’re talking mostly sane-like things, why don’t you share?”

“It was Mal’s. Mal’s mind, Mal’s darkness, Mal’s… Mal hurts,” she felt tears running down her face. Wash quickly snatched up a tissue.

“We’re fast sinking into psycho-babble again, Doodlebug,” Wash said, dabbing at the tears. River smiled, and she felt the warmth from Wash’s half-smile melting away the chill in her heart. “It’s pretty late, so I’m guessing our captain had a fairly depressing dream?” She could read quite clearly in his mind, his worry that she could also see his dreams.

She pulled in a long breath. “Dreams pass in time. Don’t bother me for long.” River relaxed enough to let him put her back in her bed.

He sat on the floor, leaning against the side of her bed and resting his chin on her mattress. “You had us all pretty worried about you.”

River bit her lip and nodded. “I saw Zoe.”

“I thought you did.” Wash paused. He wasn’t sure if River was ready to share what had terrified her so much.

“Just an echo,” she lied, not wanting to go into more detail, afraid of making Wash’s dreams even worse.

“Right.” Wash sighed and leaned back. “Hey, I brought a book! I’ll read it to you,” he offered.

“Simon wants me to stay calm,” River told him. “Doesn’t want me leaving my room, or doing too much. I’ll have to sit out on the next job.”

Wash glanced at her sheepishly. “Yeah. That’s what he said. Basically I’m kidnapping you until you get better.”

“I’m fine,” she said agitatedly, sitting up.

“No-no! I’m kidnapping you, remember, so lay back down and let me read,” Wash said firmly, pulling a chair up to the side of her bed. River groaned in frustration and flopped back down. “I’m going to be a good kidnapper, as long as you’re a good… kidnappeder.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m still going on the job.”

“You mean the job that Mal and Jayne are doing now?”

“What?” River bolted upright.

“You’ve been out a while. A few days, I think,” Wash informed. He made a great show of opening the book and clearing his throat. “You can go next time, though, as long as-”

“-I’m a good kidnappeder, I know,” River said irritably, settling back down. “Don’t like this.”

“Don’t have to, Doodlebug, but please, humor your brother? He’s driving us crazy.”

She finally acceded, and listened to his story. It was one she’d already read, but she didn’t have to heart to tell him that. Wash seemed pretty enthusiastic about introducing her to his favorite book.

---

Millions of miles away, on a quiet border moon with a population so small that it didn’t even have a real name, a young woman raised her bloody arms feebly, one last time. “P-p-please. I don’t- I don’t know,” she begged, her voice hoarse from screaming so much.

The men attacking her were brutal and professional. They didn’t waver at her panic-stricken pleas. Their leader seized her hair and jerked her closer. “Your master was seen some months ago in the company of a Companion named Inara Serra. Do you know what vessel she left this pathetic moon-”

“No! No, I don’t! I swear! I never even saw her, I swear, I swear, p-please!” the woman shrieked. “Please believe me!”

“The slave doesn’t know anymore than her master does,” one of the other men said, motioning toward the broken body of a man in the corner. “Told you this was a dead end.”

“We’ll try another lead then,” the first man said, relenting. “Kill her. It’s time we tried the Higginses.”

END CHAPTER

RandR

By the way, I’m not sure if I’ve done this yet or not, but I DO NOT OWN FIREFLY OR THE CHARACTERS OR PLACES THEREIN!!! Heck, even this fic doesn’t belong to me. It was all my muse’s creation…

CHAPTER THREE: What's To Come

“No! Stop!” Private Malcolm Reynolds paused in his tracks. Beside him, Monty and Deverall also stopped. “Wait…” Mal looked around for the source of the noise.

Again, the woman screamed. This time, they were able to tell which direction it had come from. Immediately they took off running toward the sound. They found about a dozen Alliance soldiers, a few of them beating a young black woman, with the others looking on and laughing. Hatred and rage pounded through Mal’s skull, and he was hardly aware that he and his friends were outnumbered four to one. They still fought.

Monty, in battle, was as unstoppable as the tide and even more ferocious and terrible than any lion. Especially when he was rather pissed off. Mal and Deverall could barely keep up with their friend. When half the purple-bellies had fallen, the rest of them scattered. Monty roared insults and made to chase after them, with Mal right behind him. Deverall, being the most level-headed of the three, held them back.

“No, no! We’ve saved the girl, no need to go all blood-lust on the cowards,” Deverall said, jerking Mal short.

“Ha! Should I ever catch another scum playing at hurtin’ women, I’ll make ‘em pay tenfold!” Monty thundered.

Deverall rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Yes. Of course. But for now, let them be. You’d probably just chase them into their encampment, and then where would you be?”

“I’d be in paradise!” Monty grinned ferociously. “Shooting down hordes of purple-bellies before going down in blazing glory!”

“And Mal?” Deverall smirked.

Monty laughed. “He’d be a smudge on the ground! … but he’d be a brave smudge.”

“Ha-ha. I find this all kinds amusing,” Mal said sarcastically. He knelt down next to the woman. “Hey, think you can get up?”

This was the first time that he would ever hear Zoe’s voice. “Yes, sir…” she looked up at him.

“Well, then,” Mal stretched out a hand to help her up, letting his guard down for a bit.

The young woman immediately sprang up, snatched away Mal’s gun and struck him across the face with it. Then she raced off, leaving Monty and Deverall roaring with laughter and Mal lying half-conscious on the ground, with a bemused smile on his face.

(Brief interlude, wherein the story changes scenes…)

Mal stared into his cup. It was late, and really, drinking wasn’t such a good idea, but he’d been dreaming about the war again. It had been awhile since he’d had nightmares about, but Zoe’s recent death brought them back. Of course, the nightmares weren’t the only things on his mind right now. He was also being choked by the memories, and by all the numerous “what if’s” that plagued his thoughts.

“Dwelling,” River announced her arrival in her typical (and seemingly random) way. “Dwelling dweller dwells dwellingly.” She frowned. “Dwellingly isn’t a word…”

“Feelin’ like some alliteration, lil’ albatross?” Mal asked, half-smiling.

“Feelin’…” she scowled at him, as though her slip into the common English spoken in out here in the Black had been his fault. “Feeling like some tea. To drink. Tea to drink.”

“And what else would you do with tea?” Mal teased.

“On Earth-That-Was, there was the belief that you could read your future in tea-leaves,” River started fixing a pot of tea. “That same belief does still exist today, but it is not nearly as popular as astrology.”

“Had a woman read my palms, once, when I was a kid. She weren’t too accurate, though. Predicted that I’d get married and have three kids and live a long, prosperous life.” Mal almost laughed at the memory. He had never really put much store by the supernatural, but this one prediction seemed especially ludicrous to him now.

“Could still come true,” River said. “Are married, if only in name, and Liam-“

“Shut up!” Mal said suddenly, harshly. It came out with much more anger than he had wanted. She stared at him with those wide, too-wise, too-pretty eyes.

“And I’ve held out as long as I can,” River said softly. “Now I’m letting go and holding out my hand…”

Mal stood up, swaying slightly. “Think I’ve had enough to drink for tonight, darlin’…” he washed out his cup, but before he could do anything else, River presented him with a cup of tea. She had made one for herself and one for him.

“Stay with me,” she asked.

Mal hesitatingly took the cup from her, but didn’t drink any of it. Instead he stared at her for a good long while, but she avoided his eyes. He wasn’t very comfortable with apologies, but he definitely owed River one.

“River…” he began awkwardly. She shook her head very slightly, her eyes fixed on something which apparently only she could see. “River?”

“They still talk to me,” she said, her face pale. The cup slipped out of her fingers and crashed to the floor. “They’re still in my head! They won’t get out- they won’t leave- she’s scared…” River crumpled to the ground. Mal automatically looked around for Simon, but the doctor wasn’t nearby. So instead he knelt down next to her.

“Hey… hey, no!” Mal pried the broken glass out of her hands. “You’re cuttin’ yourself, lil’ one. Gonna need those pretty hands if you wanna keep going on jobs with us, dong ma (understand)?”

She sucked in a shaky breath, and nodded jerkily. “Yes… no… still scared…”

“Who’s scared now?” Mal asked.

“She is,” River answered. Her eyes were still glued to that one spot in the air. Mal followed her gaze, but it was useless gesture. He couldn’t see what frightened her so much.

“River…”

“No! She sees it coming- storm’s brewing, Mal. It’s bad and it’s coming. And the leaf gets tossed around… she wants to protect her leaf…” River stopped rambling and looked at him in sudden clarity. “Cap’n! Simon, now, please!” she begged. She buried her face in her hands, trying to block out the images that were flooding her head. “Go away go away go away goawaygoawaygoawaygoaway…”

Mal reached out for her, but River flinched away. “Hey, hey now, River!”

Wash peered into the kitchen. He had been woken up by her screams. “River,” he started toward them.

Mal heard Wash at the door. He turned around and yelled at his pilot, “Get Simon! Now!”

Wash ran out, leaving Mal kneeling on the floor besides his terrified albatross. River rocked back and forth on her heels, unable to tear her eyes away from Zoe’s mutilated corpse, hanging from the ceiling, its dead, blank eyes staring at her, the rotting mouth forming words promising death.

END CHAPTER

RandR