Chapter 8

“If you want him to heal correctly, his hands must be completely non-functional for at least three weeks. After that, I can start him on a gradual physical therapy routine to get him back to full mobility and use. He will recover fully, but it’ll still be at least two months before he’s piloting again, maybe more. It depends on how quickly he heals and how hard he’s willing to work once he does.”

Mal sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration at the young doctor’s words. He felt bad for his pilot, awful in fact at the thought of what one of his own had suffered, but that didn’t negate the fact that he had a ship to run and jobs to do, none of which could wait two months while his pilot healed.

“What about the rest?” he asked, almost afraid to hear it as he watched Zoë gently stroke her husband’s hair. “He’s got more burns and bruises and cuts than skin! Makes a man think he’s not doin’ so well....”

Wash lay on the bed, his upper body bare, the skin raw and blistered where it wasn’t black and blue. Simon might have been working on him for hours, but Mal still thought he looked downright awful, especially now that his hands were wrapped tightly in white bandages and each was incased in a hard, plastic splint.

“He suffered a mild concussion, but while I’m still monitoring him, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about now. And, just to be safe, I ran my tests again. There is no trace of any poison that I can find. As for the rest, I’m still keeping a close eye on the burns. The last thing Wash needs right now is an infection, but everything else was rather superficial, despite what it looks like. He’s going to be very sore and tender for a week or so, but he’ll heal,” Simon answered, the weariness heavy in his voice.

“Thank you, Doc,” Zoë answered quietly, content just to listen and let Mal ask the questions. Her emotions were still churning more than she liked from Wash’s gift, and she had no desire to show just how much. As long as Mal was asking what she needed to know, there was no reason for her to do anything other than sit there and listen and hold onto her husband.

“I just wish I could do more for him,” Simon continued, slumping back against the cabinet. “I feel so helpless here. Back at the hospital, I could have fixed this and had him better in a week, but here he’ll have to suffer through the hard way.”

“You’ve done your best, Doc. Ain’t anyone can ask anymore’n that, ‘an I’m sure Wash would agree. We’ll just have to take it one step at a time from here.”

“I know. It just doesn’t seem right, or very fair.”

“Right and fair are things most of us gave up about six years ago, Simon,” Mal said heavily. “But that’s a story for another day. He stable?” the captain continued, standing as he gestured toward Wash.

“Yes.”

“Gonna be wakin’ anytime soon?”

“Probably within the hour, but he should be out for a bit longer yet.”

“Alright. Means we got time for that little meetin’ I’ve been puttin’ off.” Mal held up a hand to forestall Simon’s predictable response. “Everyone’s presence is requested, Doc. Wash ain’t goin’ nowhere; he’ll be fine without you for a few minutes. Zoë, need you there as well. Only one exempt is Wash, and if I put any stock in that osmosis stuff, I’d have him be there, too. Got stuff everyone needs ta be hearing.”

“Mal, osmosis requires water…” Simon said, shaking his head in tired confusion.

“Which we got plenty of in the kitchen, so if you’d be so kind as to be headin’ there with me now,” Mal answered without batting an eye. He placed a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder and steered him toward the door, Simon casting reluctant, worried glances back at Wash over his shoulder, but not resisting. If there was one thing his time on Serenity had taught the doctor it was to recognize a losing battle when he saw one, especially when it was one that pitted him against the captain’s stubborn will. Zoë followed the two men out the door, carefully hiding a smile as she watched the exchange and deeply missing the commentary from her husband she knew such a conversation would have drawn.

*****

Mal sucked in a deep breath as he looked over the faces sitting around the table. Each person met his gaze with expressions that were mixtures of expectance, anger, fear, and unease, waiting for him to speak. Discreetly, he drew another large breath. He was stalling and he knew it, but he didn’t care. He was not looking forward to what he had to say, and unfortunately, he had a lot that needed saying.

“Okay, folks.” Mal closed his eyes, steeling himself to keep the emotion out of his voice. They were all hurting for Wash, and they didn't need to see their captain breaking down, too. “Wash is - badly hurt. He got himself worked over pretty good. He's been whipped, burned - you saw that, know the mess he was in. But they also smashed up his hands, and he ain't gonna be flyin' any time soon. That's our immediate problem.”

“Ain't Wash’s health our immediate problem?” asked Kaylee. “Is he gonna be all right?”

He should have known he wasn't going to get off that easy. He bit back his inclination to snap an answer, vividly remembering the fact that he had already reduced his mechanic to tears once today, but it also wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all Kaylee, to beat around the bush about this. “He's gonna live, gonna make a full recovery,” he said. “But he's got about two months a' painful healin' to do first. He can't just stand up an' walk away from this.”

Kaylee bit her lower lip and tears started streaming down her face once again. Without a word, Inara reached over and placed an arm around the girl’s shoulders, drawing her into a gentle hug. Book muttered a short prayer to counter-balance the small, angry curse that Jayne spat out, but the rest of the crew remained mostly the same, already knowing or expecting that piece of news. Mal sighed again, wondering when the ‘verse got so messed up that news his goofball pilot was so badly tortured he would take months to heal wasn’t a shocker.

“Kaylee,” he said, his voice weary but kind, “he’s gonna be okay. Be rough for awhile, for all of us but especially Wash, but he is gonna be fine. But won’t none of us be okay for much longer if we don’t figure some things out soon. I’m not tryin’ to ignore what Wash went through, or make it seem like he’s not important, but I don’t have a lot a’ choice right now. I gots nine people on this ship an’ they all gotta eat, Wash included, and eatin’ costs money, which we don’t get without jobs. Dong ma?”

Kaylee made a noble effort to dry her eyes as she nodded. “Yeah, Cap’n. I’m just worried, s’all. I mean, it’s Wash…”

“I know, little Kaylee,” Mal said, letting a fond smile cross his tired face for a moment. “Would think somethin’ was wrong if ya weren’t.”

“This feelin’ sorry fer Wash is all well an’ good ‘n fills me chuck full a’ warm fuzzies, but it ain’t gonna solve our problem, Mal. How you fixin’ ta fly a boat with no pilot fer two months?” Jayne chimed in impatiently.

“Jayne!” Kaylee rounded on him in shocked disappointment.

“Man has a point, little one,” Book said gravely, holding up a hand. “Much as we all hate to press the selfish side of this, best hear him out.”

“An’ what ya gonna do about that recordin’?” Jayne’s voice dropped to a whisper and he unconsciously glanced over shoulder as he spoke the rest. “He could be watchin’ us now fer all you know! I ain’t signed on ta get stalked by no crazy person.”

“What recording?” Inara asked sharply at the same time that Book intoned, “Crazy person?” Mal shot Jayne a glare that could have frozen a stream in mid July. “Anyone ever told you that you have a big mouth?” he spat to the mercenary. He’d wanted to keep that little recording a secret, at least for a while.

“Cap’n, just tell them. They need to know,” Zoë spoke up for the first time in the conversation, giving her captain a steady, unyielding gaze. Mal found he couldn’t look into her eyes and not remember the fact that her husband had been beaten horrifically, just for a twisted man to send him a message, postage free. If anyone deserved the deciding vote in this, it was her.

Mal closed his eyes briefly as he pondered what to say, and for the first time in this crazy, crazy day spared a thought for how tired he was. It was early morning by the local planet’s time, and he’d been up since at least that time the day before. But more than that, he felt old, aged, used-up. So many untouchable things had been breeched since then, so many promises and trusts held sacred shattered… It left him weary beyond belief in a way that went far past being tired, but he could feel the eyes of everyone in the room staring at him, waiting for answers from their captain. He forced himself to open his eyes.

“The monster who done this left us a little display at the warehouse they took Wash to when they kidnapped and – ” Mal sucked in a breath “ – hurt him. Not a very pretty sight, an’ for Wash’s sake you don’t need to be knowin’ what we saw there, but apparently Wash was just part a’ the message. Found a recording there, like the one Tracey had. Long an’ short of it is, someone out there doesn’t like me too good. If fact, seems they have a powerful dislike of me, to the point of bein’ downright murderous.”

“Who?” Simon asked, his eyes wide.

“Don’t rightly know. Man didn’t see fit to explain that part an’ I didn’t recognize him from either his voice or Wash’s description. But that ain’t the point. Thing we need ta be worrin’ about is the fact that he knows me an’ mine, way too much for comfort. Know’s about each an’ every one of you, even you an’ your crazy sister, Simon.”

There were gasps all around the table from those who weren’t already privy to that information and Simon blanched.

“What?”

“How?”

“Mal, how could someone know…”

Mal held up a hand to stop the outbursts and then continued, looking grim. “Don’t know how, but it doesn’t matter. Ain’t tellin’ you this to start a debate. I’m tellin’ you so you understand exactly what the situation is here. Man says he's after me, but he's got some twisted, sadistic idea that hurtin' you will get my attention. Well, it surely has," he said, gesturing toward the infirmary and unable to stop the rush of anger, shame and guilt that coursed through him as he ground out those words. “Already know that he’s willing to back up those threats. Now, the way I see it, there ain’t no need to play right into his hands, so I’m layin’ down some rules for the foreseeable future, an’ just so you know right from the get-go, they ain’t up for negotiation.”

The captain paused to make sure he had the attention of every single person in the room before continuing.

“No one, and I mean no one, leaves this boat alone. You wanna pick some pretty flowers just off the bow while we’re docked, you bring back-up, just incase. And when you do leave, you leave armed. Not good with a weapon, take someone who is – Zoë, Jayne, myself… Doc, you an’ your sister are stayin’ on the boat until further notice unless I give you express permission an’ accompany ya to wherever it is you’re going. And anyone gets left behind on the ship, you lock her up tight an’ don’t open until you’re good and sure it’s our own crew you’re openin’ up for. Wash is the only one who knows for sure what this guy looks like, and when he’s feelin’ better he’s gonna describe him in detail for us all, but don’t take that for granted. Appearances can change. I want you always on the look out. Don’t trust anyone, or anything, no matter how familiar or ordinary. Dong ma?”

“Mal, we can’t walk around for…whoever knows how long, being paranoid!” Inara spoke up, shaking her head.

Mal rounded on her, his face deadly serious. “Paranoid is exactly what I want you to be! This guy is good, and patient. He’ll wait us out, watch until we let down our guard, get careless. I don’t intend to let that happen! My boat, my crew, my rules. As I said, not negotiable, even for you.”

Her eyes darkened. “And exactly how do you expect me to entertain clients if I’m not to leave the ship alone?”

“You’ve entertained clients on my ship before. How come you got issues with it now?”

“That’s not the point, Mal!” Inara threw up her hands. “A companion needs to have the freedom to go where she pleases, see the clients she chooses, on her own terms and alone. That’s why I rented your shuttle in the first place. So I’m supposed to just tell all my clients no, try back later, because you decided to make some new rules?”

“You think what happened to Wash ain’t real? That it’s some kind a’ joke? Think I’m making this up just to inconvenience your precious schedule?”

“Of course not, Mal!” Inara said, rising from her seat. “But this is far from the first time someone’s made threats against us and I – ”

“Inara,” Mal cut in, his voice hard as ice, “this ain’t the time for this. My pilot and my friend, your friend, too, is lying in there in pieces, so you will play it safe. Choose clients you know on planets we all dock at, and do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t end up in that infirmary next ta Wash while the doc here tries to put you back together again!”

Inara’s eyes flashed but she sat back down, not so much conceding victory as postponing the argument.

“Same goes for the rest a’ you!” Mal growled, piercing his crew with a hard stare. “I ain’t gonna argue this, understand?” He waited for some sign of acceptance from every person before he let the subject drop.

“Right, now that’s settled, we’re back to our original problem; how we’re gonna work for the next few months so’s we can eat while Wash heals.”

“You could hire a temporary pilot,” Shepherd Book suggested carefully. “Every docking port from here to the Core is teaming with pilots looking for work.”

“Already thought of that, preacher, but don’t think that’s the way for us to go. Too predictable, and too easy for this crazy who’s after us to plant one a’ his own right in our laps. Besides, Wash’n Kaylee’d have kittens if I let some stranger fly Serenity, an’ I tend to agree with ‘em.”

“So, what are we gonna do, Mal?” Jayne growled. “Cause I don’t much like the idea a’ starvin’!”

“We tighten our belts a little, an’ we all pinch in, that’s what we do. Zoë, ‘Nara, you both pilot the shuttles…”

Inara looked up in surprise while Zoë started shaking her head. “Sir…” she said, her voice low just as the companion joined in, “Mal, there is a world of difference between flying a shuttle and actually piloting Serenity!”

“Exactly what I was gonna say,” Zoë added for good measure, eyeing her captain like he’d grown a second head.

“As my mama always used to say, beggars can’t be choosers, and at this point we’re about as close to beggars as I care to get, so you’re both drafted.” Neither woman looked happy, but Mal didn’t give them time to object.

“Kaylee?” he asked, hoping for some hidden talents he’d never been told about.

“Nuh uh, Cap’n. I only fix ships, I don’t drive ‘em. Last time my daddy let me fly, I took out the mayor’s favorite pine tree.”

Mal winced, moving on quickly. “Simon?” he tried, hopefully.

“City boy, remember? I’ve only driven land transports, and those usually come with big red buttons and signs that show you how to turn them on.”

Mal winced again. He looked around for the youngest member of his crew and suddenly realized he was one person short. His face darkened. “Doc, where’s that nutty sister a’ yours?”

Simon looked nervous, but his voice was still clear and firm. “She slipped out about twenty minutes ago. She was getting more agitated and fidgety, and I figured it was better to let her go than to have her disrupt the meeting. I can go get her if you want.”

Mal decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “Let her be, but you make darn sure she understands what we talked about here.”

“I will,” Simon promised.

Mal nodded, then turned with his original question to the solemn black man sitting quietly and observing. “Shepherd?” he almost begged.

Book folded his hands together and looked down at the table, taking a moment before answering as if thinking through his words carefully. “I have…flown a bit in my time. Nothing fancy, mind you, nothing like Wash, and it’s been a long time since I did. A very long time.”

“You break and enter atmo?”

“It won’t be pretty,” the shepherd stressed with a grimace.

“Preacher, nothin’ about the flyin’ that’s gonna be done on this ship in the next little while is gonna be pretty. You’re hired.”

“Hey, Mal?” Jayne spoke up, his face creased in a frown. “What about me?”

“What about ya?” Mal replied, his expression blank.

“Ain’t ya gonna as me if I can fly the boat?”

“Nope.”

Jayne looked indignant but Mal ignored him.

“So, here’s how it’s gonna be. I can fly her myself if we don’t need nothin’ fancy, but I can’t always be on the bridge. Got captain-y things need doin’, so were gonna hafta take turns. Zoë and ‘Nara, I figure with a little practice, you can handle her when we’re in the Black as long as we stick to standard routes an’ take it easy. When he’s feelin’ better, Wash can ride shotgun with ya an’ talk you through any tricky bits. Give him somethin’ ta do. When we near our destination, or run into anything a bit more complicated, the preacher or I will take over. An’ until we get our pilot back an’ get ourselves outta this mess, we keep our heads down, stay outta trouble, stick to known contacts, easy routes, an’ hope an’ pray the ‘Verse is in a good mood.”

Nobody looked the least bit happy about this arrangement, but everyone nodded.

“Good. Zoë, ‘spect you’ll be wanting to get back to that husband a’ yours. Don’t wanna see ya on duty for the rest of the day, dong ma?”

Zoë nodded, and Mal saw the gratitude in her expression that most people wouldn’t have been able to pick out. He nodded subtly to show he understood. Then he stood, letting the rest of the crew know the meeting was over and there were dismissed. “Now, we got a job to try an’ salvage and I want off this crappy planet, so I’m gonna get her in the Black.” He turned away, and started up the steps, then stopped and turned back. “Um…you all might wanna hang on ta somethin’, just for a little while…”

*****

Groggily, Wash pealed back one swollen eyelid to let in a sliver of light.

He’d been awake, or at least a rather loose definition of that word, for quite awhile, but it had taken him this long to work up the energy to try such a task. He’d first had to come to terms with the army of small gnomes playing nine-pins inside his brain. Then, as the rest of his body parts chimed in for roll-call, he’d decided he should have just stayed asleep where he was blissfully unaware of the intense pain. Unfortunately, once he knew how much everything hurt, he found he couldn’t just ignore it and sleep again, so he’d decided that since he was awake for the time being, he might as well open his eyes.

When only dim grey lights and bland grey ceiling met his eye, he gathered up his courage and rolled his head sideways, opening the other.

A bright, blue beast starred back at him, mere inches away.

Wash squeaked and flinched instinctively and tried to raise a hand to shield his forehead, then gasped with pain and closed his eyes again at the agony that movement brought, turning his head away as he swore profusely in Chinese with a raspy, dry voice.

“I don’t think you should move that.”

Wash took deep breaths through his teeth until he was sure his stomach would obey his desperate command to remain where it was meant to, then carefully opened his eyes again.

“Yeah, I think I figured that out,” he said slowly, his teeth still gritted. He rolled his head sideways. “River, why is there a stegosaurus staring me in the face?”

“He missed you,” the girl said, not moving from her perch on the padded countertop. She gazed at Wash intently, her arms wrapped around her knees and her long, tangled hair falling about her.

Not feeling at all up to a River conversation right now, Wash just sighed and tried not to move…anything.

“River, where’s Simon?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Could you go get him?”

“No.”

The gnomes in his head playing nine-pins invited their neighbors – the giants – over to join in.

“Why not?”

“Daddy is giving them rules.”

Wash gave up. He knew when he was out of his league.

“So, why are you here?” he asked, turning his face away and not bothering to hide the weariness or pain in his voice. There was no need to, not with River.

“No one should wake up alone,” she said solemnly, that statement somehow more lucid than anything she’d said so far. It gave him the chills.

“Thanks,” he said softly, and meant it.

They were silent for a long while. Wash tried to drift back to sleep, but couldn’t. The cuts and bruises and bumps he could mostly ignore if he tried, but his skin burned like it was still covered in tar and his hands throbbed mercilessly. Any time he even got close to sleep, visions and memories assailed him; the smell of tar, the sound and feel of flesh hitting flesh, a leering man with a ponytail… And, just for kicks and giggles, since he didn’t have enough messed up issues to sort through right now, other memories were dragged out and added to the lot; Reaver ships closing in, electricity dancing over his tender skin as Mal’s screams joined his own, the sound of a whip cracking from long, long ago… All in all, it was really much simpler just to stay awake and deal with the pain.

“I’m sorry,” River eventually broke the stillness. Wash dragged an eye open again and turned to look at her.

“Why?”

“I should have known the chickens would hurt you. Should have stopped them.”

Wash didn’t have a clue how chickens became a part of their conversation, but decided not to dwell on that fact right now. He latched onto what he could understand.

“River, I have no idea what goes on in that creepy brain of yours, and I don’t really want to know either, but there is no way any of this is your fault, okay? And don’t argue with me, I’m liable to puke on you if you do.”

River cocked her head as if in deep thought. “The angle of projection from your mouth to me is all wrong. You would have to…”

Wash groaned. “A figure of speech, River,” he whispered as his stomach rolled. “Mostly…”

“You’re awake now. I’m not needed anymore,” the girl announced suddenly, slipping gracefully from her perch and starting for the door. “And the others will come soon.”

“River, wait,” Wash rasped before she could disappear out the door. His voice was hesitant when he continued. “Could you…um…move Steggy down farther so I can see him better?” he asked sheepishly. He really didn’t want to be alone.

More gently than Wash would have thought possible from a deranged, psychotic, freaky girl, River placed the plastic toy so it rested lightly against his arm, well within his line of sight.

“Thanks,” he said weakly, letting his eyes fall closed. When he opened them again several minutes later, River was gone.