Chapter Thee:

“Here’s the deal,” Mal told what was left of his crew as they sat, quietly assembled, around the Frye’s kitchen table. Almost the entire family had quickly, and pretty rudely, been sent home with assurances that, as soon as Kaylee was feeling up to it, they could see her. Al and Nora were upstairs, smothering their daughter with parental affection. The young mechanic, however, was presently the least of Mal’s worries. “Little Kaylee’s gonna be just fine.” There was an audible sigh of relief, even though everyone had known that. They’d all seen Mal carry the girl in; she’d made a point to wave and smile at the crowd. She’d tried to tell them that she was fine, an assertion weakened by the fact that she and her captain stunk with the acidy smell of vomit and there was a bruise on her head that looked absolutely horrific. “Local doc says she’s got a concussion. She’s gonna rest easy tonight and hopefully by tomarra she’ll be right as rain.” “Speaking of doctors,” Zoë said, leaning forward. “Any clue as to Simon and River?” “No,” Mal said. “They were taken by the governor’s guard. An’ I don’t have ta tell all’a you that the governor on this here planet was appointed by the Alliance.” “So then we’re rid a them?” Jayne asked, just a little too hopefully. “Jayne!” Zoë gasped, horrified. “Alliance will kill ‘em.” “Or worse,” Mal said. “So’s we’re gonna find a way ta get ‘em back.” “Isn’t Inara with the Governor?” Wash asked. “Could she maybe do something?” “My thought exactly,” Mal said. “I sent a wave ta her shuttle, fer reasons that are pretty obvious I didn’t want it goin’ through official channels.” “What if she isn’t in her shuttle?” Book asked. “I’m waitin’ fer a reply for I start jumpin’ ta ‘ifs’,” Mal said. “Nara knows enough to check her messages. Plus it might just be that she’ll have a chance ta see Simon an’ River in which case she’ll be contacting us.” “What do we do now, sir?” Zoë asked. “Ain’t nothin’ we can do fer the Tams ‘till morin’,” Mal said. “We’ll meet here after breakfast and see what our options are. In the mean time, I suggest we all try for some sleep. Regardless of whether or not Inara can help us, gettin’ them kids back ain’t gonna be a cakewalk. I want everyone ready fer whatever action we might see.” * * * “Peppermint?” The governor of Newhope asked, offering a tin full of small white candies to his godson. “No,” Simon, now unbound and standing stoically in the governors office, said, not even glancing at the candy. He didn’t have to. He knew the tin in the governor’s hand about as well as he knew any object in the entire universe. He knew how much it weighed, he knew where the dents were, and how they’d come to be there, he knew what the small shiny white balls that filled it looked like and smelled like and felt like in his hands and in his mouth and he knew what they tasted like, too. “These are your favorite,” Comworth said, a little hurt by Simon’s coldness. “Governor,” Simon said, his entire demeanor was as icy as he could make it. “I am your prisoner and you are my captor. Any confusion of these roles will only complicate what we both know has to happen.” “What’s that, Simon?” the governor asked, truly curious. “You’re going to turn me into the Alliance,” Simon said, although his conviction had slipped somewhat. The old man looked at the boy for a long moment and then said kindly, “Simon, do you know who I am?” “Yes,” Simon nodded. “You’re the Alliance-appointed governor of Newhope.” “I mean, do you recognize me?” Comworth said, almost pleadingly. “Do you remember all the—” “I remember,” Simon said, cutting his godfather off before the old man’s recollections were able to melt away all of his cool determination and aloofness. “I just,” he said a little uncertainly. “ . . . you had us kidnapped.” “No,” Comworth said. “I sent a party to retrieve you.” “I’m not seeing the difference.” “Simon,” the Governor said compassionately, putting the peppermints down and walking over to the boy. “I don’t think you’re quite well.” “It might be the blow to the back of the head one of your ‘party’ gave me,” Simon spat a little viscously. “That man will be dealt with.” “That sounds vague and ominous. But then, I suppose upright government officials can’t really talk openly about their kidnapping schemes.” The governor didn’t respond to that. He just starred at Simon with his world-weary blue eyes. Simon wanted very badly to apologize, to make it up to the old man who’d been so kind to him throughout his childhood, and take a peppermint and forget all about the Academy and Serenity and, to a point, even River. He wanted to be a little boy with the godfather he idolized. But that wasn’t an option, and so he forced himself to remain stoic. “Are you going to tell the alliance?” “Tell them what?” “That you found us.” “I hadn’t thought of it, but, I suppose, eventually. . .,” Comworth sighed. “No,” Simon insisted, real fear hedging his voice. “You can’t.” “I know you don’t want to be caught, but . . .” “You don’t understand. They’ll kill you.” “You really are mad,” Comworth said sadly. “There were these, these police officers who caught us. They were alliance police, we were being officially processed.” “Simon, what are you talking about?” “We managed to escape,” Simon continued. “River, I and a third man who was large and strong. He wanted to fight his way through the police and run out the way we came, the way we knew. River was in hysterics, she insisted that they were coming.” “They?” “Alliance agents,” Simon said with a shrug. “People from her school, people sent to retrieve her. She calls them two by two with hands of blue. She screams about them in her nightmares.” “Why are you telling me all this?” Comworth asked. “I didn’t see what happened,” Simon said. “But there were screams. The most horrible . . . like these people were being tortured, or . . .” A shiver flew down the doctor’s spine. When he looked up at his godfather, his eyes were set and cold and dead serious. “I worked in the emergency room. I treated people with multiple gunshot wounds, severed limbs, the most atrocious and painful wounds that you can imagine. Still, I’ve never heard screaming like this. And then, after a few seconds, complete silence.” “Maybe the people passed out,” Comworth said. “Maybe,” Simon nodded, although his tone made it clear that was not his favored theory. “And how did you escape from these blue-handed fiends?” “The people who we’ve been hiding with, they helped us. Helped us escape. If they hadn’t come when they did the other man, he would have been killed right there, I’m sure of it. If I wasn’t killed I’d have . . . They want River, that’s it. I don’t know why those police officers were killed, but I do know it was because of their contact with River and me.” “Do you know how paranoid that sounds?” “Yes,” Simon said. “But that doesn’t make it untrue. Please, promise me you won’t tell the alliance for your sake. Not until you really understand what’s going on.” “That’s a very unreasonable demand, Simon,” Comworth said with a sigh. “No it's not," Simon insisted, "And even if it was, what harm could it possibly do for you to humor me? The worse thing that could happen if I'm wrong is a slight delay in our processing. But if I'm right . . ." Comworth took a deep breath and regarded his godson critically. Finally he said, “I can’t make any promises, but for now I will sustain from contacting them until I have this entire situation figured out. What happened, Simon?” Comworth finally asked. “Do you care?” Simon asked, trying to sound callous. “Of course I do,” Comworth said, a little angry. “I care very much. You are my godson, wei le ji du .” “Well then, have you read my warrant?” Simon asked, his voice trembling just a little. “It’s not something I want to look at,” Comworth admitted. “Or even consider. Simon, what came over you?” “You should read it,” Simon said. “I didn’t want to at first but, ah, after a bounty hunter shot me, I thought it might be a good idea.” “Shen di yu, you were shot?” Simon nodded dismissive, “Do you know what I’m wanted for?” “No,” Comworth sighed. “Simon, I don’t care what you did; I just want to help you.” “I’m wanted for stealing government property,” Simon said. “Whatever you took . . .” the governor started. “Don’t you see,” Simon said passionately. “What I took was River.” “What, exactly, are you saying?” Comworth asked. “I’m not charged with kidnapping because, to them, I didn’t take a person, a human being, a girl, my sister. I didn’t take River. I took government property.” “They who?” “The Alliance,” Simon said. “They tortured her, they cut her brain for some experiment or program or something. She called out for help and I was the only one that heard her, or maybe I was the only one that cared. I don’t know.” He sighed, and his eyes drifted to the elegant oriental rugs on the floor as he considered River. “She . . . she doesn’t know what’s real, not really. She told us once she understands, she just doesn’t comprehend. There are connections, somewhere, that aren’t being made. And, at night, she had these nightmares that . . .” “I know you think you did the right thing,” Comworth said, putting a supportive hand on Simon’s now-lax shoulder. The doctor knew he should shake it off, he just didn’t’ have the heart. “But do you know what I saw when she greeted me earlier tonight? I saw the same lovely beautiful child I remember, not someone who’d been experimented on, not someone who suffers from a tenuous grip on reality.” Simon stared at his loving godfather, horrified. “You think I’m psychotic,” he said, suddenly realizing that nothing he said would matter. “My parents, they told you I’d displayed paranoid tendencies and you think that the stress of being a surgeon or a failed romance or something stupid like that coupled with the anxiety of a prolonged separation from River sent me over the edge.” “What?” Comworth laughed, somewhat warmly, somewhat nervously. “You read minds now?” “I just know you,” Simon said. “I wish you knew me.” “You honestly think you saved her, don’t you?” “Does it matter what I answer?” Simon asked. “It’s what you think, isn’t it? You’ll interpret everything I tell you as a delusion, me projecting my own schizophrenic behavior onto River in order to justify my paranoia-driven actions, regardless of the truth.” “I must admit, boy, you don’t sound insane.” “Thank you,” Simon said sarcastically. “Your confidence means everything to me.” “But you don’t sound like my godson either,” Comworth noted a little angrily. “You have changed, Simon.” The young doctor didn’t have a response to that, his eyes drifted back to the floor. After a moment of silence, the governor picked up the tin box again. “Do you remember when you gave this to me?” Simon glanced up. The personal, comfortable way the governor had asked the question caught him off guard. “No,” he admitted without a cool edge on his voice. “I’m not surprised,” the older man chuckled, putting his hand on Simon’s shoulder and gently pushing the boy towards a pair of very comfortable-looking armchairs in the corner of the large office. Simon considered, for a second, resisting his godfather’s gentle leading. But his impassive approach had practically convinced the older man that he was insane. Being a little more honest and a little less defensive might change the governor’s mind, and if the governor’s mind could be changed, then maybe he and River would be able to get back to Serenity. That’s all that mattered, getting back to Serenity. “You were four when you gave me this for Christmas,” the governor said, sitting down in one of the overstuffed chairs, Simon followed suit. “You’d picked it out yourself.” Simon let himself smile and chuckle, “For Christmas I gave you my favorite candies. How generous of me.” “The thing of it was,” the governor continued. “You never asked for one. You would always accept them when I offered, but you never asked.” “I suppose,” Simon said, not really remembering that detail of their relationship. “But I don’t see what that has to do with . . .” “With your current situation?” Comworth asked. “I’m not sure I know either. But that always impressed me.” “It impressed you that I didn’t ask for candy?” Simon said, a little baffled. “You were always very polite. You never demanded things. I liked that about you.” “Well,” Simon sputtered, not really sure what to say. “Thank you.” “And what I don’t understand is how such an undemanding child could grow up and demand so much.” “I didn’t ask you to kidnap us,” Simon said, suddenly reconsidering his new non-defensive strategy. “I never asked you to do or to risk anything.” “You demanded your sister,” Comworth said. “You had to have her, immediately, and you’ve ruined your life and might very well ruin hers unless--” “Her life was already ruined,” Simon snapped. “She needed me. I saved her life.” “You do believe that,” Comworth said softly. Simon closed his mouth angrily. He’d been tricked into answering his godfather’s question, and he couldn’t help sounding arrogant and paranoid in the process. “I wish,” Comworth continued. “I wish I could have my godson back. My sweet, kind, godson.” “I’m afraid you’re going to have to live with the fact that your godson is a federal fugitive, wanted dead or alive,” Simon spat. “I’m sorry if that’s hard for you.” “You want my compassion, don’t you?” Comworth asked. “It’s been made very clear that I can’t expect it.” There was another long pause. Finally, the governor said, “You can go, Simon.” “What?” “Go.” “Go where?” “I don’t know,” Comworth said, “Back to wherever you came from. That small town Fresh Well or whatever its name was. You can go.” “You’re letting us go?” Simon asked, amazed. “No, I’m letting you go. I’m keeping River.” “No,” Simon said. “You can’t.” “I can,” Comworht said. “I don’t want to see you imprisoned or committed, or whatever punishment would befall you. But River can still go back to her school and—” “No!” Simon said, pushing himself out of the chair and standing imploringly in front of his godfather. “You don’t understand. They cut her, into her brain. They hurt her.” The governor looked up at the boy, sad but not convinced in the least. “Please,” Simon said. “I never asked for candy, I never asked for everything, but tonight I have to. Please don’t send River back. I don’t care if they put me in prison or whatever, you just . . . she can’t go back.” “I understand that separation from her must break your heart,” the governor started. “It’s not separation from her,” Simon insisted. “They hurt her. Talk to her for twenty minutes and you’ll see. I don’t care what happens to me, I don’t . . . If I never see her again, but I know she’s safe, that they don’t have her, well, I could live with that. But if you send her back then . . .” “Do you understand how you sound, Simon?” Comworth asked. The old man looked near tears. “Yes,” Simon said. “I understand perfectly well how I sound. But I’m telling the truth. I’m not going to lie to make you feel better or instill confidence in a government which finds it perfectly all right to torture little girls.” “So, you won’t leave without River?” Simon hesitated. If he left without River, it was possible that he could contact Mal and they could mount a rescue. But then, it was also possible that he could never see his sister again, that she could be dragged off to the Core and cut into and programmed and generally turned into nothing more than a weapon for the Alliance to use. “I won’t,” he finally said, his voice was firm with determination. “I’d rather die than abandon her to them.” “I see,” Comworth said, this time it was his voice that was cool and detached. “I’m not quite sure how I want to handle this just yet. Until I determine the best course of action, you will be kept in a guestroom. There will be an armed guard at your door and you won’t be allowed to see River at any time.” The doctor felt like he’d been shot in the chest. He staggered back a step and for a moment he entertained the idea of jumping at his godfather and strangling the old man he loved so much. The idea, the mental image, was so disturbing that he took another staggering step back. “Simon,” Comworth said, standing. The older man’s voice was filled with concern and he reached out for the boy. “Are you all right?” “No!” Simon snapped. He took a deep breath forced a stance of composure. “Don’t send her back. Not until you’ve talked to River, asked her if she wants to go.” “You’re tired, Simon, and emotional,” Comworth said, walking over to his desk and pressing a small button under its edge. The door to the outer office immediately opened and a pair of armed guards entered. “Take him to the quarters I had prepared. Make sure that all the windows are secure and that his door is guarded at all times,” he told the guards before turning back to Simon. “We will talk again in the morning, after you’ve rested and collected yourself.” “Don’t you think I’m a little old to be sent condescendingly to my room?” Simon asked as a guard garbed each of his arms. Comworth suddenly looked guilty, “I wish it was different, Simon,” the older man explained. “I wish you would let me help you.” “And I wish you could help me,” Simon said, just as sadly, before being shoved out the door.

MONDAY “Good morning, Genie,” Inara said, walking up behind the young girl and her new friend, who were both sitting at the table in the rose garden, eating breakfast. “’Mornin’,” Genie stared before quickly correcting herself. “I mean ‘good morning Miss Inara’.” “Very good,” Inara said. “Now, why don’t you introduce me to your friend?” “Why?” the new girl asked, turning her head so Inara could see her round face and deep brown quizzical eyes. The girl was very lovely, Inara thought, with her hair pulled up in a series of braids and curls and a charming royal blue dress cut in the latest style. She was somewhat familiar, still, Inara couldn’t think of where she could possibly have made the young girl’s acquaintance. “It’s for practice, River,” Geine explained quickly, turning to her friend. Inara felt like her heart stopped. She blinked, several times, and stared, very impolitely, at the young girl, who stared back innocently. “Come on, stand up,” Genie insisted, oblivious to Inara’s shock. “Simon said it was a secret,” River insisted as she followed Genie’s directions and stood. “I tried to tell him but he never listens.” “Quit kiddin’,” Genie said lightly. “I need ta know this stuff.” “That’s right,” Inara said, struggling to keep her composure as her mind raced, trying to determine how and why River Tam would be eating breakfast with the granddaughter of the governor of Newhope. River had said Simon wanted their relationship to be a secret. Inara didn’t quite understand that, but she was so surprised by the girl’s sudden appearance that she decided to follow the doctor’s advice blindly and figure it out later. Simon was smart; he probably had a very good plan. She would have hated to mess it up before he got a chance to act on it. “And I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.” River looked at Inara skeptically before smiling slyly. “I’m not telling.” “Kay now,” Genie said, drawing both their attentions. “Miss Inara Serra, I would like to introduce you with . . .” “To,” Inara prompted. “Right,” Genie nodded, “Introduce you to my old friend, River Tam.” Inara took a steep forward, “I’m very pleased to meet you, River.” “No, you’re not,” River said. “You’re confused and worried.” “River, that ain’t, I mean, that is not polite, to say things like that,” Genie scolded as she glanced up at Inara. “Genie’s correct, it’s not,” Inara said, smiling down encouragingly at the girl. “Now, why don’t you two return to your breakfasts and River, you can tell me how you came to be in the governor’s mansion.” * * * “So what you people are telling me is that it’s hopeless,” Mal said frankly. “The bloody governors guards tramped through this forest not one day ago, an’ yet there ain’t no clues as to where they came from or where they went.” “Nothing is hopeless,” Book said. “Just sometimes the only hope is a miracle.” “Ain’t the fact that they was the governor’s guards a pretty good clue to where they came for and where they went?” Jayne asked. “I mean, how hard is it ta figure out?” “Why would the governor care?” Zoë asked, looking around the clue-less forest. If Simon and River’s lives weren’t in danger she would have liked to dally in this little spot with the soothing sounds of a waterfall and the rustling of the wind through the trees and warm filtered light and the soft forest floor with Wash for a while. “Reward?” Jayne asked. “Governor’s got plenty of money,” Zoë said. “But for some plenty is not enough,” Book pointed out. “What I want to know is how they knew the kids were here?” Mal said. “What, in the woods?” Jayne asked. “On the planet,” Mal said. “The governor knew they were on the planet.” “Someone could’a tipped him off,” Zoë suggested. “Maybe a local who looks at the postings in the sheriff’s office.” “Then wouldn’t they’av told the sheriff?” Mal asked. “Al said the governor’s guards only work for the governor, no one else.” “What if the men were working without orders?” Book asked. “To many humping ifs,” Mal muttered. * * * Wash stared the T-Rex in the eyes and tried to find some reassurance in the yellow molded plastic. “No human ever saw you,” he told the toy. “You all died in tar pits and from dust storms and ice ages long before any human had evolved enough to even be considered a decent meal. And yet, I know all about you. Your bones were buried in the mountains and deserts of a planet that doesn’t even exist anymore. But still, here you are.” The T-Rex didn’t have any philosophical reasoning for his preeminence to offer Wash. With a sigh, the pilot put the dinosaur back in his spot on the control panel where it was battling an oversized anklyosaurus. “Ya think it’d be easier to find two kids who were here just yesterday,” he muttered. As if in divine response to his musings, the consul in front of him chirped. “Finally,” he said, pushing a few buttons and establishing a comm link with Serenity’s shuttle One. “Hey Nara,” Wash said, smiling as the companion’s pretty, yet clearly worried, face appeared on the vid screen. “How’s it going?” “Wash, what the hell is going on?” Inara said. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you didn’t see the wave Mal sent last night.” “I didn’t notice it,” Inara said dismissively. “I had a very unusual morning. You’ll never believe who was at breakfast.” “The charming Dr. Tam and his always interesting sister?” Wash asked. “Just River,” Inara clarified, shocked that Wash had guessed so easily. “What happened? How did they . . .?” “We were actually hoping you’d know,” Wash said seriously. “They were nabbed yesterday by the governor’s guards.” “They, you mean River and Simon?” “Yeah, Kaylee was there too but she just got a knock on the head.” “Is she all right?” “Fine,” Wash said. “Just a little concussion.” “What a nian di bu ,” Inara muttered to herself. “You say they took Simon too?” “Best we can figure,” Wash said. “You had breakfast with River?” “Yes,” Inara said. “It was the oddest thing. I guess she knows the governor from before she went to that school. She told me she sent the governor a letter and he sent his personal transport to bring her here.” “Did she mention the armed guards that came with the transport?” “She was very vague,” Inara said. “I think she was afraid of saying too much.” “Too much how?” Wash asked. “She knows you.” “But Genie, the little girl I’m tutoring, was there. River kept almost saying things, stopping herself. I think Simon told her not to mention Serenity.” “I take it you haven’t seen Simon.” Inara shook her head sadly. “Well,” Wash said nervously. “I guess he might be . . .” the pilot couldn’t think of an optimistic way to end that sentence. “What is Mal planing to do?” Inara asked after a second. Her voice was trembling a little. “He doesn’t have a plan yet,” Wash sighed. “Till you called we didn’t even know where the kids were.” “I’ll try to find Simon,” Inara said. “And I could talk to the governor. He’s a very kind old man. If I explain things he might understand.” “Or he might come and arrest us all for aiding and abetting federal fugitives,” Wash pointed out. “You should talk to Mal before you make a move.” “You’re right,” the companion sighed. “I just . . . I don’t think River realized what danger she’s in and Simon . . .” “Hey,” Wash said quickly, “None a that. Companions are supposed to be chipper and bubbly. No one wants to sleep with a sobby Susan.” “You’d be surprised,” Inara chuckled. “But I really should go, Genie and River . . .” “Yeah, hey, when can you chat next, ya think?” Wash asked. “Once Mal hears you got River, he’ll want to start with the scheming.” “I don’t think I could get free ‘till after dinner,” Inara said, a little guilty. “I had to invent a reason to steal away now.” “So, what, like around 1800?” “Later,” Inara said. “Tell Mal I’ll call him at 2200. And I’ll try to find out about Simon.” “Will do,” Wash said. He tried his best to smile at the companion. “See ya then.” She tried her best to smile back at him, “Yeah,” she said. “See you then.” * * * Simon stared at the ceiling and worried. He didn’t have much else to do. He worried about River. She was going to get sent back to the Academy. She was going to be tortured and used. She was going to be lost to him forever. The thought of it made him sick, his stomach turning in painful knots, his throat constricting so he had to gasp for breath. He closed his eyes tightly. He couldn’t think about River, it was fruitless; he had to think about something else. He had to think constructively, find a way out. He opened his eyes and started thinking of plans. He could feign injury or illness and then, when the guards came in to check on him, he could daringly grab their guns, spring up, and lock the men in the room. Then he could sneak, unobserved, through the large mansion. Oh, maybe he could even steal one of the guard’s uniforms: then no one would suspect him. He could grab River and they could fly away to Serenity on the magic Pegasus that would undoubtedly be waiting for them if he pulled off the first half of his plan. Simon laughed at himself. If he was going to escape he’d have to come up with something much better than that. The prospect of contacting Mal didn’t seem impossible, but he’d probably have to jerry rig something or bypass some safety and he didn’t know how to do that. Kaylee would have. He opened his eyes and stared back up at the ceiling, the sound of her pretty laugh ringing in his ears. Simon smiled softly at these thoughts. He remembered how pretty she’d been outside of that church. The way she’d smiled at him, at River. His stomach started twisting again. He remembered how her pretty face had turned into a scowl when he’d started heaping judgment on her for being less chaste than he’d assumed she’d been. He remembered River saying she’d been hit in the head and fell down. If Kaylee had been killed, or was seriously injured, it was his fault. So not only had he cruelly insulted Kaylee, the sweetest, kindest, most joyful and all around wonderful, person he’d ever know, but she could be dead, and it would have been his fault. “Stop,” he told himself, closing his eyes again. Worrying about Kaylee was as futile as worrying about River. “This won’t work,” he muttered, rolling off the bed. “The key is to be goal-oriented. My goal is to get River out of here. Before that can happen I need to be free. I need to find River, and I need to convince her that we should leave. That could take some time, so I’ll need to find River, hide for a while, and then it’s just a matter of escaping the guards and . . . that’s enough for right now,” he said. “In order to escape I’ll have to . . .” His voice trailed off as he heard an unusual squeaking noise. He paused and listened for a moment. It seemed to be coming from the ceiling in the bathroom attached to his chamber. Very cautiously he walked over to the doorway to the bathroom and paused, leaning on the doorframe, watching as one of the panels in the ceiling moved. “Huh,” he said softly to himself. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.” He watched for almost a minute before there was a loud crack and the panel fell from the ceiling onto the tiled floor in the spacious bathroom, and with the panel there was a man. “Auuughhh,” The man groaned as he laid writing on the floor. Simon was so shocked that, for a moment, it didn’t occur to him to run up and help the obviously injured man. He was drawn out of his shock by a banging on the door of his chamber. “Dr. Tam,” the guard’s voice called through the thick wood. “Are you all right in there?” “Ah, yes!” Simon called. “Just a little accident in the bathroom. I’m fine though. Thanks for checking.” Simon waited expectantly to see if the guard would believe him or press the point, demanding to come in and be sure that the governor’s beloved godson was not hurt in any way. But after a tense moment, Simon realized this particular guard was not that dedicated. “Are you all right?” the young doctor asked the groaning man on the bathroom floor. “Man, that totally sucked,” the man, who was not much older than Simon said. He had shaggy blond hair, an unusual tattoo around his right eye and was wearing a jumpsuit not unlike the ones Kaylee usually wore. “Gan tian hua ban .” “Can you move your feet?” Simon asked. “Someone should fix that ceiling,” the man said, turning seriously to Simon. “That could have killed me.” “Yes, it could have.” Simon said, a little bewildered. “Can you move your feet?” “Dude, I just feel through a ceiling,” the guy said. “Move your own humping feet.” Simon stared at the man for a second, amazed. “I’m a doctor,” he finally said. “I want to make sure you’re not badly hurt.” “You got any painkillers?” the man asked hopefully. “No,” Simon admitted. “Dai dai gan mei yong yi sheng! ” “Well, clearly, your lungs are working just fine,” Simon said tersely. “What hurts?” “My humping zao gao back mostly.” “Kindly prove to me that you haven’t snapped your spine by moving you’re feet.” “What happens if I snapped my spine?” the man asked. “In all likelihood, a very painful surgery followed by six months of recovery.” “An’ if I can move my feet?” “Then we can move you to the bed.” “Yu tian bu yu yu yuan qi wei de di di qian yi sheng, you qi ni! ” the man muttered, wiggling his feet. “Ya happy?” “Very. You’ve probably just got a sprain. Nothing to worry about,” Simon said, walking around the man and kneeling down behind his shoulders. “Now, I know this will hurt but if I tried to carry you, we’d both end up with sprained backs.” As gently as he could, Simon eased the man who’d fallen through the ceiling up and half led, half carried him to the very soft, very comfortable bed as the man swore in Chinese under his breath the whole way. By the time Simon had him reclined with pillows supporting his neck and a blanket to keep him warm, the doctor and his family had been cursed several times in several different, creative, ways, back several generations. Simon felt particularly bad for his mother’s father’s father who was cursed to have chickens peck his face until he was so ugly no woman would willingly sleep with him so that Simon would never have been born. “There you go,” Simon said. “Are you comfortable? “My humping back’s killing me!” “Yes, well,” Simon said, hedging away from the bed back towards the bathroom. “There’s not really much I can do about that.” “Ain’t you a doc?” “Well, yes,” Simon said, glancing into the bathroom up towards the hole in the ceiling. If he dragged the chair from the desk in his chambers into the bathroom, he’d be able to reach the hole without a problem. “Are you a mechanic?” he asked, glancing back to the injured man on the bed. “Is there a maintenance catwalk up there or something?” “Yeah,” the guy said. “Some of the com wiring runs though those ceilings. A day ago we got some wired local transmission, I was tryin’ ta figure who hacked it when your la shi ceiling gave way.” “I see,” Simon said. “And the catwalk, it leads to what, a maintenance closet somewhere?” “Yeah, you gotta climb a ladder, which I won’t be doin’ for a gorramn humpin’ while,” the man muttered. “You don’ got any alcohol or anything?” “I’m afraid not,” Simon said as he walked fixedly towards the desk and grabbed the back of the solid wood writing chair. “You’re back is just sprained, it will be fine. You’ll want to get a lot of rest and not stress it.” “What, like, stay in this bed?” “Excellent idea,” Simon said as he carried the chair into the bathroom. “You ah, you just, you stay right there and call if you need anything.” “What?” the guy said, craning his neck so he was, more or less, looking in the general direction of the bathroom. That hurt, so he quickly turned back to stare at the ceiling above him. “You goin’ up ta the crawlways?” “I, ah,” Simon called from the bathroom, his voice was strained as he tried to pull himself up into the hole. “I want to see what kind of conditions you’ve worked under.” There was a grunt as the doctor finally swung himself on to a secure crossbeam. “You understand, don’t you?” Simon called. “Uh,” the man called back. “Yeah, I guess.” “Just lie there and rest,” Simon yelled. His voice began to sound muffled and distant. “I won’t be gone too long.” “Yeah,” the man muttered. “You got it.” It seemed odd that the doctor would need to crawl around in the ceiling, or would want to for that matter. But he was a doctor, and who was Bester to question what a doctor thought was best? * * * “So,” Mal said. “Plan is, Nara lets us in, we grab the kids, we get out. Easy-peasy.” The crew of Serenity, gathered around the Frye’s kitchen table, didn’t look convinced. “Won’t there be guards?” Jayne asked. “We’ll be sneaking,” Mal said, “At night. Guards’ll hardly notice us.” “And what if they do?” Zoë asked. “Well, then, ah, we shot ‘em,” Mal said simply. “Wouldn’t that just bring more guards?” Wash asked. “Look,” Mal said a little defensively. “This here’s just a prototype, I’m open ta any suggestions you all can give me!” “What if,” Kaylee said softly, “What if we did it durrin’ the day?” “Kiddnapin’ in broad daylight,” Jayne grumbled, “Brilliant plan, why didn’ anyone think a that before?” “Well,” Kaylee said uncertainly, “It ain’t really like we gotta steal ‘em, is it? I mean, it’s more like were helpin’ them escape. An’ everyone thinks ‘bout escapin’ in the night time an’ no one much worries ‘bout that sort of thing in the day. So, why try too sneak around at night when we could just walk ‘round easy as pie in the day?” “What you know that I don’t, Little Kaylee?” Mal asked, leaning towards his pretty little mechanic. “Nothin’ much, sir,” the girl said timidly. “Jus’ it ain’t hard ta get in an’ out a the gov’ner’s mansion. Folk do it all the time with no one battin’ an eye.” “How?” Zoë asked. “Tours,” Kaylee explained. “Twice a day, one in the mornin’ and one in the afternoon.” “Tours?” Mal said a little skeptically. “Governor lets people just wander round his house?” “Oh, no,” Kaylee said. “There’s a guide an’ a route’cha take and they point ta a wing an say stuff like ‘This is the Governors personal quarters, we can’t show ya that cause he hasn’t had time ta clean up his room’ an’ the whole party laughs. But them parties is big. If a few people snuck off, no one’d notice.” “Hunh,” Mal said, nodding. “That ain’t a half bad idea. An’ it don’t put Nara in no tricky position, which I like. But if we do manage ta sneek off and grab the kids, how we gonna escape? I don’ like the idea of tryin’ ta blend River into a group a innocent tourists. ‘Specially when what Jack told us makes me wonder if she’ll want ta come at all.” “What if,” Wash said slowly, “We steal the shuttle?” “We don’ know where they keep the shuttles,” Mal started to say dismissively, “Nor, what kind they got, nor the types of security . . .” “Not one of theirs,” Wash said quickly, “Ours.” Zoë laughed softly and proudly at her husband’s idea, “Steal Inara’s shuttle?” “Yeah,” Wash said, his wife’s smile giving him confidence. “Look, she could say that it was broken or something and then I could come in and say I was going to repair it. I’ll prep the shuttle for launch, you get the Tams, jump in, and we’re off.” “Couldn’t that transfer suspicion to Inara?” Book said. “I thought we didn’t want that.” “Not if she makes a fuss about it being gone,” Zoë pointed out. “If she play’s it right, we might even be able to make a profit on this.” “That ain’t a half bad idea,” Mal said with a roguish glint in his eye. “Seems kinda mean,” Kaylee interjected. “When I meet the Gov’ner he seemed like the nicest guy.” “You meet the Governor?” Mal asked. “Well,” Kaylee amended, “We all did, at the end a the tour they show ya his office and I guess most time’s he makes a point a bein’ there, sayin’ ‘hi’ ta all his constituents and such. But still, I ain’t never heard a bad word ‘gainst him.” “Kaylee,” Mal said, “His guards knocked you on the head and took Simon and River. That’s not exactly a nice thing to do.” “I know,” Kaylee muttered. “But the tour thing is a good notion,” Mal said. “And a notion I think we can use. Wash, how long ‘till we talk with Inara?” “Another couple of hours, sir,” Wash said. “Right,” Mal muttered, “I guess we’ll just have ta sit tight ‘till then.” * * * “I will say this for Reginald,” Gabriel Tam said as the Governor’s transport pulled into the mansion’s courtyard. “He’s brought civilization to the rim.” “I know,” Regan said, smiling sadly. “To look around us, one would hardly believe that we’re not in the ore.” “I like the way he’s landscaped the place,” Gabriel was looking out the window. He didn’t want to look at his wife, he was afraid he’d catch her crying. “It’s very classic.” “Reginald always had a taste for the classics,” The woman said; she was looking at the fabric of her skirt, rubbing gloved hands over tweed, smoothing wrinkles that didn’t exist. The conversation dropped off there, as neither husband nor wife could think of anything else to say to each other. The transport landed softly on its pad, right outside the governor’s private office. From the window the Tams could see Reginald Comworth waiting for them. It was odd, Regan thought, that he was not smiling. It was also odd that Genie was not waiting with him, which was the first thing she commented on once they were off the transport and standing under Newhope’s warm afternoon sun. “Genie’s in the garden, with a surprise for you,” the Governor said, almost hesitantly. “But before I take you to her, I was wondering if we could have a serious talk.” “I’m not sure we’ll be able to oblige you,” Gabriel said jokingly. “We came here to relax, not be serious.” “Of course,” Comworth said, nodding. “I don’t mean to be rude, but something’s happened and I didn’t want to discuss it with you over the Cortex, I feel there are some things that need to be said face-to-face.” “You want to talk about Simon and River,” Regan said, with a small smile and an eager look in her eye. “Reginald,” Gabriel sighed, “We came here to try to get away from all that.” “They haven’t contacted you, have they?” Regan asked. “I know Simon always trusted you so completely, I’ve wondered . . .” “Come into my office,” the governor said. “I have tea set out . . . unless you want to go rest, I know these interplanetary trips can be . . .” “A cup of tea sounds perfect,” Regan said quickly before turning to her husband and adding, “Your not too tired, are you, dear?” “No, not at all,” Gabriel said cagily. “By all means, let's go into your office and talk about our wayward children.” * * * River stared at her hands in horror. They were turning red. Everything was turning red. She was still sane enough to know that the color red was in her brain; that it wasn’t real. But that only made the world’s sudden tint change even more frightening because she also knew that soon she wouldn’t be able to remember the world with more than one color and she wouldn’t know what voices were real and what voices were fake and there would be screaming and monsters and darkness and cold. A tear streamed down her cheek. “River, dear,” Inara’s calming voice said. The girl could feel a steady hand on her shoulder and another stroking her hair. She hoped that she wasn’t that far gone yet; she hoped they were real. “Are you all right?” “It’s leaving. It’s almost gone,” the girl choked. “What’s the matter?” Genie asked, glancing up from her calligraphy practice sheet. “My body’s running out,” River said, her blood-red hands were starting to shake. “It’s the only explanation. Soon I won’t know, and it won’t matter and you’ll want to lock me in my room again. Because I won’t know.” “River,” Genie said, leaning across the table, “That don’t make sense.” “Doesn’t,” Inara corrected quickly. “River, we don’t understand you.” “And all my words will be lost,” the girl said, truly crying now. Her speech came in gasps and her hole body was shaking. Inara stepped around the chair so that she was next to the trembling girl and pulled her close in what she hoped River would interpret as a protective embrace. “And no one who listens could hear and all the voices will scream and the darkness will come in the night. Oh, God . . .” River sobbed. “She can’t make it stop. It’s started and it won’t stop until she’s gone.” Genie looked up at Inara, horrified by her friend’s sudden and disturbing speech. The companion had no comforts to offer. “Genie, dear,” the companion said. “You need to go get your grandfather. Tell him that River is very upset.” “She’s talkin’ crazy Miss Inara,” Genie said, pushing away from the table slowly. “This’s gotta be a game or something.” “It’s not a game,” Inara said a little snappishly. “Go get your grandfather. And get her brother, too.” “Gramp’s said Simon was not quite right in the head,” Genie said, backing away from the scene but much, much too slowly. “Yes, well, River obviously is having some troubles of her own,” Inara said, her patience growing thin. “Please, Regina, your friend needs you to go get her brother!” Genie nodded, looking pale and frightened and nearly worried sick. Still, she managed to turn and run out of the Rose garden with the same exuberance with which she tackled every task. Inara was very glad that Genie, and not any other girl her age of her class, had witnessed River’s episode. Genie was the kind to forgive and offer compassion to one who suffered from nervous fits, that and she could run three times faster in a dress than anyone Inara had ever known. * * * “When you wrote me and told me Simon was having emotional problem’s with River’s prolonged absence, I didn’t realize how bad it’d gotten,” the Governor said. “To steal his sister . . . Were there any warning signs?” “All of them,” Gabriel said. “He was overtly paranoid, confrontational, obsessive . . .” “We thought if we intolerant of his behavior he’d realize how inappropriately he was acting,” Regan said, regret lacing her voice. “We didn’t take him seriously, treated him like a child and now . . .” She dabbed the corners of her eyes with a small white handkerchief. “This may seem like a harsh question but, if you could do it over again, how would you have handled the situation differently?” Comworth asked, hoping his question didn’t sound too pointed. “I’d make sure the boy got medical help,” Gabriel said without hesitation. “He’s so brilliant; it’s such a shame. With the right kind of help he could still have made an impact. In research, perhaps, something where he’d have minimal contact with patients. This didn’t have to be the end of his career.” “So you wouldn’t have taken him seriously?” Comworth asked. “You didn’t hear him,” Gabriel said, before Regan could answer. “The things he said, the things he did . . . it was impossible to even humor him. It was all just so ludicrous.” “The reason I ask . . .” Reginald started, but he was interrupted by his office door being thrown dramatically open and a gasping Genie running up and grabbing his arm. “Papa, Papa,” She said, not even noticing the Tams. “Ya gotta come quick. River’s all crazy and Miss Inara thinks she needs Simon but you told me . . .” “My God,” Regan gasped, springing to her feet, “Genie, did you say River? Do you have River here?” The girl turned, startled, “Mrs. Tam,” She said, blinking and confused. “Where’d you . . .?” “Please tell me it’s really River,” Regan said, taking a pleading step closer to the young girl. “My own River.” Her eyes were moist but she didn’t bother raising her hankie to wipe the tears away. Genie nodded silently, ogling the Tams as if they were ghosts. “She’s kinda goin’ nuts though,” the girl said slowly. “River,” Regan gasped, tears flowing freely out of her eyes now. “Is that why you asked us here?” Gabriel said, standing to put two supportive, bracing hands, on his now-trembling wife. “Because they contacted you?” “Yes,” Comworth said. He was, at this point, the only one still sitting. “I didn’t want to go through official channels. I didn’t want your children to be hurt.” “Where is she?” Regan said. “I have to see her.” “Genie, would you . . .” Comworth said. “’Course, Papa,” the girl said, stepping forward and taking Regan’s hand. “I’ll take you right to her,” the girl said as she led the older, very troubled woman out. “But you gotta know, she ain’t a pretty sight just now . . .” “You said 'children',” Gabriel said, easing himself back into a chair so he could look his old friend in the eyes, as soon as his wife was out of the room. “You have them both?” “Simon is here, too, yes,” Comworth said. “But he’s not . . . he’s like a different boy.” “I know,” Gabriel said sadly. “I had such high hopes for him . . .” * * * Simon eased the maintenance closet door open and looked, very cautiously, up and down the hallway. It looked empty, and entirely unfamiliar. “Qiong cangn fu zi wo,, ” he muttered, carefully stepping out of the small room and closing the door behind him. Now that he’d escaped, he’d have to find a way to prowl the grounds unnoticed. That wasn’t going to be easy. Especially considering that the maintenance man with the sprained back would probably raise the alarm sooner rather than later. He’d have to be very careful, he thought, as he crept around down the hallway, every one of his senses keen, trying to figure out where the guards were, where the cameras were, where the exits were. He edged his way, sticking to the shadows, treasuring the mild form of darkness that fills building in the late afternoon when the light of the day has faded but no one’s yet thought to turn on the lights. Simon reached the end of a hallway and found that he must chose between turning right or left. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and listened very carefully. There were definitely steps coming down the hallway, but the echoes on the polished marble made it difficult to tell from which direction the noises were coming. Simon ducked into a deep, shadow-filled doorway that lead he knew not where. He’d wait for the footsteps to echo away and then he’d continue in his search for River. Maybe by the time he found her, it’d be late at night and they’d be able to sneak out unnoticed. Then all he’d have to do is scrounge up enough credits to send a wave to Mal in Sweet Well and they’d be as good as safe. And he’d never see his godfather again. And he’d have purposely and finally cut all ties with his former life. Simon buried his face in his hands and pressed down on his eyes so hard the darkness turned into light. He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t have regrets. Regrets were for people who had choices. He didn’t have choices. He had River and the only road he could take was the one that lead to her, to her being safe, to her getting better. He became aware that voices were accompanying the footsteps. They were hushed voices, it was a very private conversation, but as soon as Simon could distinguish the first few intonations of each voice, he knew exactly who was approaching and he found his hands shaking and his heart beat quickening and his resolve wavering. “I understand that perfectly,” his godfather’s voice said firmly but quietly. “And he has changed, but he doesn’t sound mad, or irrational. I spoke to him in detail just last night and his thoughts seemed clear, as did his determination to protect River.” “Protect River from what?” Gabriel Tam asked. His voice was a little louder that the Governor’s, its slightly incredulous tone and absolute unshakabilitly were so familiar that Simon couldn’t mistake the voice, no matter how much he wanted to. It was his father’s; his father was here. If he left, he’d have to not only leave his godfather, but he’d have to leave his father, and undoubtedly his mother as well, again. He’d have to steal River, their own daughter, from them -- again. He’d have to break their hearts -- again. And he’d have to break River’s heart -- again. And he’d be breaking his own heart -- again. In his dark corner, Simon felt like someone had just heaved a load of sandbags or a huge chunk of lead onto his back. He could feel his chest constrict; he couldn’t breathe. The doctor sunk to his knees, leaned his back against the wall, and covered his mouth as he gasped for breath. He willed himself to be totally silent, not to move, not breath, if he could have, he would have willed his heart not to beat. “Surely he doesn’t still cling to the delusion that her school was hurting her?” Gabriel continued. “Is it a delusion?” Comworth wondered. “He’s so persistent and he was always such a cautious boy, he never, never jumped to conclusions. He had such a scientific mind.” Gabriel muttered something Simon couldn’t quite hear. “That’s unfair,” Simon’s godfather snapped. “Did you ever even consider, perhaps, the possibility that he could be right?” “Be serious, Reginald,” Gabriel scoffed. “She attended a government run academy. Lord Terrence Harritt submitted her name for consideration. The Secretary of Education himself took us on a tour of the facilities and explained the program. Then, months later, Simon takes some perfectly normal sounding letters and constructs the most ingenious code out of nothing, forcing them to say what he wanted to hear.” “I can’t imagine Simon wanted to hear that his sister was being tortured,” Comworth said, levelheadedly. “He wanted to hear that she needed him,” Gabriel amended, audible disgust for his son’s actions creeping into his voice. “So he created a scenario where only he was clever enough and noble enough and loved her enough to notice it.” “It just seems, though,” Comworth pressed, “that he was so happy in the hospital. His letters, they were so excited. I can’t imagine that he would just leave that.” “He’s not well,” Gabriel said. They’d paused, right at the fork in the hallway. Simon, deep in his protective shadows, could see them standing and talking. His father looked older, somehow, but he couldn’t pinpoint the cause. He was standing straight and proud, his suit immaculate, his shoulders squared, his shoes polished: the perfect businessman. But there was something else, a sort of hardness in his stance that Simon had first noticed when his father had bailed him out of jail. Something about the way the corners of his mouth and eyes seemed frozen, or maybe how very straight his shoulders were and how his hands never seemed to relax, the muscles always looked tense. “There is another factor in this,” Comworth said softly. “I’m convinced that saying Simon’s mad is too simple an answer.” “You were always too generous with him,” Gabriel said. “We all were. If we had –” Simon never got to hear his father’s regrets because the discussion was interrupted by another voice that forced the boy to close his eyes. He could feel hot tears store up in his eyes but he wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t going to make a sound, he had to stay secret. “Gabriel, Reginald,” his mother’s voice called down the hall. “Regan,” his father said, surprise and a little perturbed at having his conversation interrupted. “I thought you were going to River.” “Reginald,” Simon heard his mother say. Her voice was more troubled than he’d ever heard it, and that frightened him. “River is manic. What’s happened to her?” “I don’t know,” Comworth said. “Simon insists . . .” “Simon is not well,” Gabriel snapped. “And neither is River,” Regan insisted. “She’s frantic, calling for him. Reginald, please, I’m her mother and . . .” The woman’s voice trailed, she was too heartbroken to finish her sentence. Simon understood exactly how she felt. “Come on, then,” Comwoth said, taking Regan’s forearm gently and leading her in the direction the two men had been originally heading. “We’ll fetch Simon and see what sense can be made of this mess.” “Quickly,” Regan said, glancing behind her, presumably towards River, “It’s not good for her voice, screaming like that . . .” Simon, hunched in the shadows, listened very intently as the steps faded into the distance. Once he was sure they had gone reasonably far down the hall and wouldn’t hear or see him, he slinked out of his hiding spot. If he could just reach River, grab her and then run off before his parents realized what he’d done there was hope. “I can do this,” he whispered under his breath as he gazed down the hallway, first in the direction his parents had gone, then in the direction he hoped would lead towards River. “This . . .,” he muttered, turning decidedly towards his sister, “This is doable.” But as he jogged down the hallway, he couldn’t help but throw cautious and sometimes longing glances behind him. “Defiantly,” he told himself, a little louder. “I can . . . I can do this.” * * * “River,” Inara pleaded, reaching out towards the girl who continually batted her hands away. “Please, just -- just calm down.” “No!” River screamed. “Listen to my words; they come out like blood from a wound and they stain the pretty silk dress. It’s ruined and we pretend it’s just grape juice and change clothes and go back to the party!” Inara had nothing to say to that; she changed subjects. “Simon will be here soon, River, sweetie, just . . .” “The doctor can’t fix it. The surgeon can’t sew it. He puts bandages on it but the bandages got dirty and infected and now there’s more blood!” “Riv—“ Inara started but then she heard rapid, almost panicked footsteps behind her. She turned around and saw Simon speeding towards the gate of the guardian. For a second, she left the girl to her hysteria and rushed to met Simon. “Zan yang fo tuo you’re here,” Inara said, not registering the look of utter shock on the young man’s face. “River is totally out of control. I haven’t seen her this bad since we had the reaver on board.” “I—Inara?” The doctor finally managed to stutter as the companion took his arm and started pulling him bodily towards his sister. “What are you . . .?” River screeched, high-pitched, horrified, “The ghosts are coming back! They’ll drag us down, down to the graves, the blood stains on the pretty dress will be covered with mud and lavender when they bury us.” “River,” Simon called, setting his shock at seeing Inara aside as he ran to his sister. “River, calm down,” he knelt in front of her, firmly grasping her flailing arms; his clear blue eyes steady as a lighthouse trying to guide his sister out of the tempest in her mind. “River, I’m here; you’re safe.” “Simon,” the girl gasped, calming a little as she sank into her brother’s embrace. “It went away. And the world is red and I’m seeing the ghosts.” “Shh, shh, mei mei,” Simon soothed. “It’s all right. Everything is going to be just fine.” “It ran out,” River sobbed. “And I’m slipping.” “The medicine,” Simon realized. “You’re talking about the medicine.” “It’s all bloody,” River whimpered. “It hurts.” “I know,” Simon said, lifting himself up and his sister by proxy. “It’s gonna be all right; we’ll get back to Serenity and . . .” At the mention of the ship, Simon suddenly remembered that they weren’t alone in the rose garden. Still holding his sister close to him, he turned to Inara, who looked almost pale with worry. “What are you doing here? Where’s Mal?” “I was hired by Governor Comworth to tutor his granddaughter. I heard you were kidnapped.” “Yeah,” Simon said, glancing around for guards. “We’re escaping now. I don’t suppose you’d know the quickest way out?” “As a matter of fact, I don’t,” Inara said. “But, Simon, where would you go?” “We’ll . . .” Simon said, “We could . . .” “Mal knows where you are,” Inara said. “He’s going to come. And I don’t think you are immediate danger. It might be best to wait.” “What if the ghosts are real?” River said, her voice sluggish and distant. “Can you be a ghost and not die?” “No,” Simon said shaking his head fervently. “We can’t stay, that will only . . .” “There was a woman here, Simon,” Inara said, putting a kind hand on the obviously frightened young man. “She said she was your mother.” “She is,” Simon clipped, pulling his calm, but clearly inconscient, sister out of the rose garden roughly. “Simon,” Inara demanded. “I need to know what’s going on!” “Later, just. . . just, not now. Now we have to get out, we need to . . .” “Simon,” River said, her voice was less murky, more insistent. “I think the ghosts are real.” “Tell Mal we’ll be in the city, hiding,” Simon said quickly as they reached the edge of the garden. “This is madness,” Inara said, grabbing the boy’s arm, trying to pull him back into the garden. “You won’t be safe out there, you know that. You’re safe enough here until . . .” “If we stay, now, I . . . I don’t think we could leave,” Simon said, turning to look at the companion, and the intensity in his eyes made her gasp. She had known that his briskness was a result of fear, but she had assumed he was afraid of the governor, of the guards, of being caught. But Simon’s eyes told a different story. He was afraid of himself, afraid that his courage would falter, and his dedication break and all his struggling and suffering would end up being for nothing. Inara realized that he wanted more than anything else to stay, and that was why he couldn’t waist a moment in leaving. “And,” the boy continued shakily, “I’m sure Mal could find us we just . . . we can’t stay.” Inara nodded; she was about to tell the young man that she understood. A series of confusing lies were already forming in her head which, when told, would hopefully give the brother and sister enough of a head start to evade capture. But, before any of those lies took a true form, she was distracted by River, who suddenly and violently pulled away from Simon, shoving her brother into the garden gate and running back into the green sanctuary. Simon was stunned and a little disoriented--River had shoved him with more force than either he or Inara would have given her credit for. The whole gate rattled at the force of the blow and Simon's knees gave way as his breath was knocked out of him. The companion's first thought was to make sure the young doctor wasn't too badly hurt. She rushed over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder as she started to kneel down. “Simon.” “I’m fine,” The boy said, although his voice sounded slurred. “Jus’ get . . . find River.” “Simon you should . . .” “I’m fine,” the boy said as he pulled himself back up to a standing position using the fence as a brace. He turned to look at her, presumably to convince her that he was fine, or perhaps snap at her for not following his instructions, but before he could say anything, he winced in pain. Inara gasped, as he turned towards her she saw that there was a huge gash on his head, just over his right eye, spewing blood. “No,” Inara said, taking his arms more firmly. “You need a doctor.” “Head wounds look worse than they are,” he said, pulling his left arm away from her, pressing it against the cut. “We have to find River.” “You have to sit down,” Inara insisted, holding on to him tenaciously as the boy tried to untangle himself from the companion. His eyes were scanning the garden, trying to find his sister among the greens, browns and reds of the rose bushes. “You can’t wander around the villa trailing blood with River screaming at the top of her lungs,” Inara insisted, holding on to the doctor, forcing him to listen to reason. “That’s not going to help matters.” “We can’t stay here!” Simon insisted. “You can,” Inara insisted, and then, in a more hushed voice; “Mal knows where you are, he’s going to come.” Simon shook his head, woefully, “You don’t understand. I can’t see them. Not after what I did.” “Your mother?” Inara asked, bewildered. “Simon, you saved your sister she’s going to . . .” “No one’s going to believe me.” “You can’t know that,” Inara said. She was pleading him in a very womanly way, her body bending, always moving just a little. She felt a little guilty, playing her companion tricks on him, but this was his life, and River’s, and he was not thinking clearly. She had to appeal to his emotions because that seemed to be what he was running on. “I do know that,” he said, starting to nod his head. Then he winced in pain and closed his eyes. “Sit down,” Inara ordered. “You’re not thinking. Mal is —” She was interrupted by a high-pitched, tear-soaked, voice calling “Simon!” The two Serenity crew members froze for a second. Simon, who still hadn’t opened his eyes, muttered, “Xian, fou. ” Inara turned her head to see Simon and River’s mother running towards them. The governor, another man who Inara assumed to be Simon and River’s father, and a host of guards, followed her. “Oh, Simon,” Mrs. Tam said, running up to her son who stood there, eyes closed as if clinging to the childish belief that if he didn’t see it, it wasn’t really happening. She wrapped her arms around him, and started bawling into his chest, while everyone watched. Inara felt like a voyeur. Simon wouldn’t have wanted anyone from Serenity to see him like that, like a lost child. She looked away. “Son,” Mr. Tam said, his voice was hard and, despite herself, Inara turned back to the family drama. She was felt she needed to know what would happened to Simon next, she told herself it was for Mal, for his plan, and ultimately for the Tam children too. It was, after all, their rescue. Simon opened his eyes and turned towards his father. Somehow, even though his once-white shirt was now a dirty brown-gray and blood washed over half his face, he looked strong, proud, and nobly defiant. “Hi,” was all he said. “Hi!” Mr. Tam yelled. The older man’s face grew red, his eyes, which were the same pretty blue-gray as his son's, bulged. “You run off! Leave your job, leave us! You abduct your sister! We don’t see you for months and all you say, all you can think to say, is 'Hi'?!” “Hi, Dad?” the boy asked. Inara tried not to laugh. Simon could be very entertaining when he was terrified. “Don’t yell at him!” Mrs. Tam said, stepping away from her son, positioning herself between him and her husband, a protective, loving, unmovable wall. “We all know what happened, yelling won’t solve a thing.” “I have a right to yell!” Mr. Tam said, looking at his son over his wife’s head. “We’ve been through hell because of his selfish actions!” “Selfish?” Simon said appealing to his father. “I certainly didn’t gain anything personally by leaving. Everything I did, I did for River. All you have to do is talk to her and you’ll see that . . .” “You’re diluted,” Mr. Tam said dismissively. “We can’t trust a word you say.” “How very convenient for you,” Simon spat back. “I, however, can’t dismiss reality so casually.” “The reality is that you need medical help,” Mr. Tam insisted. “You’re not right.” Inara looked away again. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to see Simon struggle like this. Perhaps most importantly, she didn’t want anyone to see how angry she was getting on Simon’s behalf. Governor Comworth must have felt the same way, because he walked up to her, and touched her arm gently, drawing her away from the bickering family. “I think we should leave them to themselves for the moment, don’t you?” “Indeed,” Inara said softly. “I hope that they can come to an understanding.” “Regan has a gift for finding understandings,” Comworth said. “Is River in there somewhere?” “She ran off and hid. Simon wanted to take her away.” “Yes,” the governor sighed as he led Inara out the gateway to the garden into the thick marble halls of his villa. “Simon. We found the maintenance man in his room lying on the bed with a sprained back and a large hole in the bathroom ceiling.” “That sounds like an interesting story,” Inara said gravely. “Simon is very good at seizing his opportunities,” Comworth said, in the same grave tone. “Add to this his life is charmed with the most uncanny good fortune.” Inara had to literally bite her tongue to keep from laughing in the governor’s face. Everything Inara knew about the boy lead her to believe that too much good fortune was not Simon’s cross to bear. In the short time of their acquaintance the young man had not only been hunted by the Alliance, but also beaten by a total stranger, nearly burned at the stake, and just about suffocated to death on his birthday. But, sometimes, misfortune would find a formerly lucky person and stick with them. Still, Inara found it hard to believe that Simon fit under that category. The boy never complained, never talked about how things could have been, he never even seemed to expect anything to go his way; all proofs that his life in the Core had not been charmed. “You know,” she said, trying very hard to sound like she had no greater experience than one rushed conversation in a garden. “I understand that you’ve known him all his life, and, of course, so have his parents. But I can’t help but feel, and please don’t take offense, that you are somewhat blind to who he really is.” “Really?” the governor asked, more amused than anything else. “I know it will be easy to discount my observations,” Inara said, trying to make herself sound as innocent and legitimate as possible. “But you must remember that Companions are trained in reading men, in understanding them in an instant.” “Is the male so easily dissected?” the governor asked, his tone was still amused. “Some more than others,” Inara said, chuckling lightly. Because, after all, she didn’t know Simon, she didn’t care for him, or for his sister, and she certainly wasn’t trying to rally an accomplice in the conspiracy to steal the siblings back to Serenity. “And I won’t say that Simon is an open book, far from. But he’s not mad.” “You know this?” “It’s obvious,” Inara said flippantly. “The only thing more obvious than the fact that he’s completely sane is the fact he adores his sister.” “No one questions that,” Comworth said, his voice was less amused, almost suspicious. Inara smiled, “And now my keen senses are telling me to drop the subject. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on such a private matter. It’s just I hate to see someone suffer for crimes others commit.” “What do you mean?” “Well, someone hurt River,” Inara said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the ‘verse. Which, in a way, it was. “Clearly it was not Simon because he loves his sister and is not insane. But, because you, and their parents, don’t see this fact, he’s going to be punished, or something, I suppose.” “The world is very clear to you,” Comworth said. There was admiration in his tone, not suspicion. Inara smiled very naturally and breathed a little easier. “Some parts more than others,” Inara laughed. “Other’s lives are always easier to understand than one’s own.” “If that is the benefit of Companion training, I’m starting to think it should be given to everyone.” They both laughed. This was good, Inara thought. She’d made the governor critically rethink the assumption that Simon was mad and she’d done it without revealing any of her personal knowledge of the young doctor. The governor didn’t even suspect that she had any personal knowledge to reveal. “I do have one question though,” Comworth said casually. “Well, then, please ask.” “Who is Mal?” For a second, Inara lost all her composure. He knew -- he’d overheard something or he’d somehow figured it out. She didn’t know what Simon had told him. She didn’t know what River had let slip. She didn’t know how much the guards had discovered when the kidnapped the siblings. But, as she pretended to cough to hide her shock, she reminded herself that she’d talked to Wash, and he hadn’t said anything about guards or police. The best path would be total denial, at least, until she knew more. “I’m sorry,” she said, pressing her hand against her chest. “Do you need a glass of water?” “No, no thank you,” Inara laughed. “I’ll be just fine. What was that question again?” “Who is Mal?” “Who is . . .” Inara said uncertainly, shaking her head. “Mal, was it? Am I supposed to know the answer?” “I imagine you do,” Comworth said, regarding the companion slyly. “When we walked in on your conversation with my poor godson, you were telling him that Mal is . . . going to do something, I assume.” “My conversation with Simon,” Inara said, thinking as quickly as she could. “Oh,” she finally said with a careless laugh. “You misheard. I said ill. Ill is going to befall you if you leave. I was trying to talk him out of escaping.” “I see,” Comworth said after a moment. “I can understand how that would sound confusing.” “Yes, well,” the governor said. He looked a little embarrassed; Inara felt a little sorry for him. “Given the circumstances, perhaps you should take the rest of the afternoon off.” “That’s very generous of you, sir. But doesn’t Genie need . . .” “Genie will be too worried about her friend to concentrate. Dinner is at 20:00, I’ll expect to see you there. Until that time, there are some matters of state . . .” “Of course sir,” Inara said, smiling graciously, innocently, at the governor. He bowed, very genteelly at her, and then turned and hurried off towards his office. Inara stood for a moment and watched him go. Then, after taking a very deep breath, muttered “Nage, neige tai kao long, " before hurrying to her shuttle so she could tell Mal everything that had just happened. * * * "Genie," Governor Comworth called into his granddaughter's suite. There wasn't an immediate answer. "Genie, are you in here?" "No!" The girl called. "I'm not in here, go look somewhere else." Comworth laughed and stepped full into the room. This was their game, their code. She was miserable and wanted to be comforted, she just didn't want to ask. The Governor walked up to her closet and knocked, "Can I come in?" He didn't wait for her to answer before he opened the door and found her scrunched in the back corner, leaning on the soft cloth of all the pretty dresses she owned but never wore. When she was much younger, and her dresses where much shorter, she'd created a world for her toys in this closet. It was her favorite pay room, totally cut off from the outside world. It was still her sanctuary. He stepped in, as he had a thousand times before, he was the only one who could. "All right, sweetie, tell me." "River's rutting nuts," the girl said, not bothering to look up at her grandfather. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, lacing and unlacing a pair of dress boots she'd worn only once and were, surly by now, too small. "She's had a very difficult time but . . ." "Oh, papa," Genie said, shaking her head wisely. "She's gone." "Gone?" "Remember how she was always clever, always makin' jokes." "I remember you two laughing a lot." "She's not like that. Not no more . . . not anymore." "People change, people go through hardships and they change," he reached out and pulled his granddaughter's pretty face up towards his. "People go through puberty and they change." "Bu zhe ban " Genie said, shaking her head. "You and River were never very close, you have to admit," the governor said, hoping a different angel might brighten Genie's perspective. "We weren't pen-pals or anything, but we were close when we were together," Genie insisted. "But that's got nothing to do with it." "I'm not sure what it is," Comworth confessed. "You spent all your time with Simon and the Tam's, which was shiny 'cause River and me, and, and I?" "I," Comworth said, nodding. "Well, anyways, we would just play around, explore, whatever. River was carefree. She was kooky, but not psychotic." "River is not psychotic." "She's not the same," Genie insisted, shaking her head. Her eyes were cool, set, convicted. "Are you afraid of her?" Comworth asked with a note of bewilderment in his voice. "Is that why you're hiding?" "No," Genie said with a sigh, shaking her head. "Nope." "Well, then, why?" There was a moment’s pause; finally the girl settled on, "I'm sad." "Sad?" "Sad for her, I mean, she lost something. She's not happy." "Genie," Comworth said gently. "You know, she was kidnapped, that kind of trauma . . ." "She was kidnapped from a school by her older brother who she idolizes!" Genie said. "That's most kid's fantasy." "Fantasy's aren’t all they are supposed to be." "I'm really scared for her," Genie admitted, yanking on the pink boot laces. "She's gonna . . . well, she ain't gonna . . . I don't know." "Come on, Genie," her grandfather coaxed. "I want to know what you think." "She's really hurt," Genie said. "In her head. I'm sad 'cause she's hurrin' so much, and I'm scared 'cause I don't think she'll ever get better." "River's parents are here, they'll be sure to see that she gets the best care available." "She'll never be like she was." "I suppose . . ." "Somebody, somebody not Simon, messed her up, but good." "You can't possibly know that." "Ya only gotta talk to her ta see she's messed up." "I mean about Simon." "Right, 'cause Simon would totally do that." "You just admitted you didn't really know the boy." "Oh come on!" Genie said, exasperated, picking up one boot and throwing it violently over her grandfather's shoulder and hitting the closet door with a loud thump. "This is a complicated situation." "River's torn up," Genie said as thick tears of frustration and compassion rolled down her cheek. "It's like someone took a rake to her brain and mushed it all to di yu ." "She's just traumatized." "Losin' both yer parents," Genie said, looking at her grandfather seriously. "That's trauma. I know all 'bout trauma. River's been more'n traumatized. She's been ta hell and back." * * * Dinner at the Frye household was a somewhat morose undertaking. Wash had downloaded Inara's wave and Serenity's crew had listened to it once, and then again, and then, at Books prompting, a third time. Kaylee asked her mother if they could have dinner alone. Nora put up a fuss, but Al convinced his wife it was for the best. He was wise enough to understand that, while Kaylee was happy and safe on Serenity, that didn't mean they had a right to, or should even want to, know all of the things that went on on that ship. "It just seems," Wash said, shattering the silence as they all, with the exception of Jayne, stared at their plates. "I mean, should we maybe see if the kids even want to be rescued before we go all out and break into a Governors palace?" "If they think Simon's the one who's done that to River, I'm thinking he at least might want some rescuing," Zoë observed. "Kidnapping, child abuse, that's some pretty serious jail time." "But Simon didn't do that to River," Kaylee pointed out. "Everyone's gotta see that." "No," Mal said. "Simon and River's parents ain't keen on what's real, only what's neat." "How do you mean?" Book asked, implying, 'how could you know?' "When the doc figured out that thing with River's letters, they didn’t believe him." "We don't know that," Book pointed out. "We know the boy's got no help from any side. He's got no money and no protection, side from ours. He started out runnin' blind, no where to go, no one to go to. That don't sound like a situation where Ma and Pa were behind him all the way." "We don’t know that he ever told his parents." "He spent all his money, left his cushy job, and jumped headlong into a fugitive's life without tryin' ta solicit his parents, her parents help first?" Mal asked. "I appreciate that you don't wanna think ill a folks ya don't know, preacher, but no one's helped those kids. No one but us." "But that was then, wasn't it?" Kaylee asked. "I mean, Simon said no one'd seen River for years. After they see her, maybe . . . " "Inara made it pretty clear what Mr. and Mrs. Tam thought after seein' River," Mal said. “Anyways, all this is a moot point.” “Sir?” Zoë asked. “We’ve been assumin’ he’d get due process of the law, or what have you,” Mal said. “Which, considerin’ how ‘special’ River seems to be, I don’t find too likely.” The table fell into an uncomfortable silence. No one, with the possible exception of Jayne (who was too busy eating to comment one way or the other), liked the thought of Simon in prison. But the dark, unknown prospect Mal had just presented, none of them had dared think. It was made all the more horrible, because everyone knew it was true. "We're still on ta talk with Inara in a couple a hours," Wash said, trying to make his voice sound hopeful. "Might be best to wait. Hear if she's got any new insights." "I'm sick a waitin'," Jayne said, his mouth full of home made mashed potatoes. The rest of the table looked at him, bewildered. "You eager ta get the doctor back?" Mal asked, arching his eyebrows. "Well," the large mercenary said, clearly uncomfortable under so many inquisitive stares. "Not . . . I'm just sick a all this talk and all this waitin'. I wanna do something." "Yeah, well," Mal said, turning back to his own dinner, small portions, all untouched. "You ain't the only one." * * * "Simon," Regan said sharply. "Get you're elbows off the table." The young doctor, who's elbows were indeed on the table as his chin rested in his palms and his fingers tried to massage the splitting headache out of his temples, did not do as he was told. Instead, he sent his mother a silent, spiteful glare. "Don't look at your mother that way," Gabriel snapped. "How dare you?" "I'm a criminal, Dad," Simon said, lifting his head and letting his arms rest on top of the table, elbows and all. "I've done all sorts of improper and impolite things." Inara, who knew better, glanced at him, but didn't say a word. She couldn't blame him for being surly. As they feasted on roast beef, honey-glazed carrots, whipped potatoes, and lime sherbet, he picked at a skinny roast beef sandwich. A discrepancy which, Inara thought, he could probably tolerate, if the reasoning behind his poorer fair had been logical, not because he was too unstable to be trusted with silverware. Governor Comworth sat at the head of the long, formally set, table. Genie was to his right, and Inara was across from her. River, pail, trembling, and muttering to herself as she ignored the food and everything else around her, sat between Genie and Regan with a full place setting of shiny forks and knives in front of her. Gabriel was sitting at the end of the table, his eyes were continually, accusingly, fixed on Simon, who was sitting to Inara's left. This was, easily, the most uncomfortable dinner party the companion had ever attended. "You're not helping your case, young man," Comworth practically growled. "I have a case?" Simon said, mock surprise coloring his voice. "I didn't realize I hadn't already been tried, judged and sentence." He laughed coldly, "I mean, you've already condemned River to madness so . . ." "Condemned River," Inara said, turning first to Simon, who doggedly refused to look at her. Remembering herself, and their current position, she turned to Comworth. "What does he mean?" "This isn't really your business Miss Serra," Gabriel grumbled. "They won't give her any medicine," Simon said, staring at his sandwich. "They think it's causing her psychoses." "Oh," Inara said, forcing herself not to react beyond that. She pulled the napkin on her lap up to her mouth and hid a quick sob. Genie looked about as pained by River's predicament as Inara was. She leaned forward and addressed Gabriel with a frankness edging on uncivilized. "She obviously ain't well, sir," the girl said, then, turning to her friend, said. "Sorry River." If River understood or even heard the comment she didn’t react. “And, could givin’ her that medicine for a little while really hurt? I mean, she ain’t . . .” “Isn’t,” Inara corrected, her voice was trembling a little. “And, Genie, dear, don’t drop your G’s in the present participle phrase.” “She isn’t,” Genie continued, passionately, “Isn’t gonna, going to, get any better if y’all ignore that she’s not right.” “And what sort of medical expertise qualifies you to make that assertion?” Gabriel asked. “Well, Simon said,” Genie started. “Oh,” Gabriel harrumphed, “Simon.” “Let her finish,” Comworth snapped. “Simon said that she was taking medicines. If she’s acting like this on account of stopping the medicines. . . . before, I mean, she was still off, ya know, but she was a little like the River I remember.” “Before she talked,” Inara observed. “Before she had the ability to tell the difference between her nightmares and reality,” Simon observed, glancing up at his sister. “Or, at least, the self possession to understand that the nightmare wasn’t a reality. Didn’t you River?” Her brother’s direct address must have penetrated River’s world on some level, because, without looking up, she laughed and nodded. “The ghosts caught us,” she said. “They caught us both and now we’ll live haunted lives. We’ll be see-through, invisible, and every day will be a horror story.” “River,” Regan said, putting her hand gently on the young girls shoulder. “River, are you listening to us? Can you understand?” The girl turned her head so quickly that her mother jerked her hand back. “I hear everything,” River told her mother. “I hear the secrets people don’t tell me, and I hear the lies people tell themselves,” the girl said with an eerie seriousness, then, laughing, she added. “Just, sometimes, I can’t tell the difference.” “River,” Simon said a little desperately. “You don’t have to answer any questions.” “Children who disobey don’t get their dessert,” River said, looking intently at her brother, smiling. “But I remember. Mary Antoinette could tell you that some things are more important than cake.” Simon stared at her for a second, then, smiled softly and leaned back in his chair, apparently relieved. “What does she mean?” Gabriel demanded of his son. “Is this another one of your codes?” “This is River,” Simon said. His tone was serious, but Inara knew him well enough to hear the hint of a smirk in his words. The boy had the distinct advantage of having reality on his side; she hoped he was wise enough to, when the time came, keep his gloating subtle. “Who she is now.” “River,” Regan said, drawing back her daughter’s attention. “You know we love you, don’t you?” The girl turned to her mother, reached out, and touched the woman’s cheeks, “’Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked , thinks no evil.’” “What the di yu is she rambling on about?” Gabriel asked. “It’s from the bible,” Comworth said. “What does it have to do with anything?” “River’s developed her own type of logic,” Simon said. His voice was soft and distant as he stared at the interaction between his mother and his sister. “’Does not rejoice in iniquity,” River continued. “But rejoices in the truth; Bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.’” “Oh, River,” Regan, said, tears welling in her eyes. “It says ‘Love never fails,’” River said, her hand drooping away from her mother’s face and turning to Simon. “It doesn’t say ‘love comes’, though, does it Simon?” “I got stuck on the part where ‘love believes all things’ and ‘rejoices in the truth’,” the doctor said, a little pointedly. “But it should say love comes,” River insisted, clearly getting upset with St. Paul for his grievous omission. “He was writing about Jesus and Jesus came. That’s why he was important. The preacher explained it all. I can draw a picture.” Her eyes started darting around the table for something to write with and write on so she could recreate one of Book’s evangelical sketches. “River,” the governor said, crisply after a moment, catching the girl’s, and the rest of the table’s, attention. “Before you can bear, believe, hope or endure, you have to be there. You have to have come.” For a second, the girl just stared at him, with an open mouth and a quizzical expression. Then she broke into a smile. “I knew love came,” she said triumphantly, before turning to her brother and sticking her tongue out, as if to indicate her victory over his assertions. “We came, River,” Regan said, excitedly. “We came here for you, and for Simon.” “No you didn’t,” the girl said, shaking her head. “You came here for yourselves.” All the color drained from Regan’s face. She turned quickly to look at Gabriel, who was just as shocked at his daughter’s pronouncement as his wife. “That’s not kind, River,” Gabriel said. The girl shrugged, “I wasn’t going to get dessert anyways.” * * * Inara looked tired, almost haggard. “God, you look like hell,” Mal noted. “Thank you,” the companion said, smiling at the captain sarcastically from the vid screen. “You always know just what to say.” “I take it the governor’s mansion isn’t quite a paradise.” “I’ve been so worried about Simon and River,” she said, her voice shaking. Mal realized that Inara had been struggling to hold her cool, unconcerned composure for over 18 hours. He’d been able to swear, and scheme and kick things to express how incredibly frustrated he was. She’d been trapped, forced to lie and watch and pretend she didn’t care. “I feel ill. I haven’t’ eaten all day.” “You should sit down,” Mal said, regretting his inconsiderate greeting. “I am sitting down, Mal,” Inara snapped. “But I wish I were pacing.” “Well, just, take a deep breath, make yourself some tea and try ta relax. I can wait.” “No,” Inara sighed, “No, we should talk now.” “Kay,” Mal nodded. “You wanna start, or should I?” “Do you have any good news?” she asked, the smallest hint of desperation in her voice. “Ah, no.” The companion sighed and rolled her eyes. “What do you want to know?” “Are the kids in any immediate danger?” Mal said. “We got a plan, but for it to go smooth we’ll need least a day. Or, we could be a little less subtle. In Serenity it’d only take ‘bout twenty minutes to—” “No,” Inara finally interrupted. “No, they . . . I think they’re safe, for now. I mean, as long as they are here, in the Governor Comworth’s villa, I know they will be safe.” “You know I trust you,” Mal said. “But I’d feel a hell’of’a’lot better if you could give me some assurances.” “The day’s been so hectic,” Inara said, taking a deep breath and looking up at her shuttle’s plain gray ceiling. “I’d hate to repeat myself.” “I’d rather that than have anything left out,” Mal said. “Best start at the beginning.” * * * "Here, Simon," Governor Comworth said, handing the boy a fine china cup filled with coffee. The young doctor took it sullenly. "Thank you," he said, very quietly. "Sugar?" The governor said, an almost coaxing tone in his voice. "Cream?” "No," Simon shook his head. "What?" Gabriel harrumphed. "I've never know you to drink your coffee black. Is this part of your knew criminal image?" "Some decorum, Gabriel," Comworth said in a low, commanding voice. "What's the point?" Gabriel said. "Pretending we're all civilized when my son here has made it clear that he has no desire to act as such." "Because I don't want cream and sugar?" Simon said, lifting his head. As he'd been lead into Comworth's study for what had been described to him as a serious discussion, he'd promised himself that he wasn't going to react to his father's prodding. It seemed clear to Simon that his godfather was eager to figure out what was really going on, and his father was eager to have the whole mess cleaned up. It was possible, Simon knew, that he'd be able to convince them he was not insane, but that River was, and that the best course of action would be to let the two of them go and slip off into the darkness of space. True, it was a very, very slim possibility; he was probably more likely to be struck dead by lightening as he sat there. Still, while that possibility existed, he felt he should do everything in his power to make it happen. And not smirking at his father was one of those things. Unfortunately, at times, Simon couldn’t help himself. "I never realized polite society was so strict about after dinner refreshments." "I'm just trying to understand what happened to you," Gabriel said, with enough fatherly concern in his voice to make Simon feel guilty. "I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but the changes in your behavior, both drastic and subtle, are disconcerting. I hope you can appreciate that." Simon nodded and when he spoke his throat was oddly dry. "I can and I'm sorry." The apology seemed to catch the two older men off guard, "Sorry, Simon?" Comworth asked as he lowered himself onto a couch, facing Simon in his stiff-backed chair head on. Gabriel Tam was had sunk into a plush chair perpendicular to his son, which suited them both, as neither were quite yet ready to look in the other's eyes. "I am," Simon said, nodding, staring into the black depths of his coffee. "This whole . . . I never wanted . . . I did what I thought I had to do. Nothing I did was ever malicious. It's hard to see that, I'm sure, because I know what I did . . . it hurt you." The boy glanced up to his father and for the briefest second their eyes meet. Simon quickly glanced back to his coffee, "And it hurt Mom and, probably, other people." "You have quite the ability to underestimate the effects of your own actions," his father observed icily. "The boy is apologizing," Comworth snapped. "If you're so determined to prove you're civility you might think about accepting it." There was a cold silence as both Tam men sulked, trying to find a way to accept what the other had said. When the governor finally shattered the silence, his voice was crisp and filled with a forced brightness. "Simon, I think it would profit us to know what you've been doing, what you and River have been doing, for these last months." "What we've been doing?" The young doctor said, looking up to his godfather, intentionally avoiding his father's glare. "I don't think . . ." "Yes, Simon," Gabriel prompted. "Where were you two off playing as your mother and I desperately longed for any word, wondered if you were dead or alive, fenced the most atrocious questions any parent--" "I think that's quite enough, Gabriel," Comworth snapped. "Your son apologized, what more do you want him to do?" "I think I deserve an explanation," Gabriel said. "I can't tell you where we've been," Simon asserted, before it was asked of him again. "I wish that I could." "Why can't you?" Comworth asked. The boy sat, with his mouth open, searching for the right thing to say for a moment. Finally, his eyes returning to the dark coffee, he said, "People helped us, people I'm not going to betray." "By telling us about your lives you’d hardly be betraying . . ." Gabriel started. "You have money and influence," Simon said, his eyes darting up, meeting his father's and holding the stare. "They don't. You should be grateful to them . . . what they did . . . but, I don't--don’t think you see it like that." "There was a substantial reward for you and your sister," Comworth said. "They knew that, and still hid you?" "You sound skeptical," Simon observed. "You can take River’s and my presence here as proof." There was another chilled silence in the room. Simon's point was well made, and truthfully, indisputable. But of all the things he'd said, this somehow seemed hardest to accept. Simon was not a genuinely amiable fellow; everyone who knew him knew that. It wasn't that he wasn't kind, or wasn't generous, or wasn't in possession of a host of likeable qualities. But an unusual combination of natural shyness and well-deserved self-assurance tended to keep his more pleasant character traits hidden to new acquaintances. It seemed inconceivable that he could have found people who would take him in at all, and even if such people were to be found, they would surely sell the boy and his sister for the substantial reward. It was as if Simon's father and godfather didn't believe that anyone other than his family could find a way to accept him. A notion with which Simon would have resigningly agreed with up to the point Mal had come back for them on Jiangyin. River had stumbled onto a surprising truth that night at dinner, Simon realized. His parents may have conceived him, housed him, fed him, taught him, and indulged him his entire life. But when he and River had been in their most desperate strengths, Mal had been the one to come. And Simon would not betray the pirate to his parents, not if his life depended on it. "Well," Comworth said finally. "I suppose the fact that whomever you've been with has valued your freedoms over a cash reward speaks highly of them. Still, we do have a right to know." "Speaks highly?" Gabriel scoffed. "Simon is a criminal; he's undoubtedly fallen in with criminals who protect him to protect themselves." "Is that true, Simon?" Comworth asked, clearly upset by what Gabriel had suggested. "In . . . in part," the young doctor admitted, quickly adding, "But River and I have been . . . it's been a while, now and . . ." "River," Gabriel said, his voice was sharp with condemnation. "In the state she's in, the state you put her in . . ." "That school put her in that state!" Simon interjected. He was ignored. "Is being cared for by criminals," Gabriel looked at his son with a newfound disgust. "Instead of being taught . . ." "She wasn't being taught she was being tortured." " . . . by the finest faculty in the Core, she's being schooled by some group of boarder world dunces on the finer arts of pocket-picking and grift." "They've taken care of us," Simon asserted. "It doesn’t matter what insults you fling, the fact of the matter is that River and I would be dead if not for their aid." Before the words were fully out of Simon’s mouth, Regan Tam burst into the study, a nightgown-clad River being dragged behind her. "Simon," Regan said with all the motherly authority her voice had ever possessed as she presented the girl to her brother. "Explain this to me at once." Simon was about to tell his mother that he couldn't explain River, when he realized that she was not upset about her daughter as a whole, but rather the fresh red scars up and down the girls forearms. “Fan shi bei " he muttered.

To Be Continued . . .