Full, easily readable archive of previous chapters at my website, www.serenityverse.com/fffanfic

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Mal lay down with relief on the hospital bed that the two calmly pleasant guards led him to; he’d halfway expected to be beaten again as soon as he was out of sight of the cafeteria, and he was so dizzy that staying on his feet had become overly complicated. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, ignoring the pleasantries and explanations swirling around him. Now that he was safely in the hospital he was back to noticing matters like how very much his head hurt.

One of the guards started to buckle his arms into soft restraints mounted on the sides of the bed, and in a split second Mal’s composure vanished. He tried to break free in panic, the sheer terror of his last stay there flooding back in full. Being severely injured and strapped down at the mercy of the enemy had been a horror no drugs or kind words could relieve, and at that moment Mal was willing to fight to the death rather than be restrained again.

Strong hands forced him against the bed, and Mal screamed, overcome with fear and helplessness. “Let go of me, you fëi hün shëng zi of yuán hóu,” he roared, rebounding almost instantly and slamming his fist into the nearest unseen figure as panic turned into dark fury. “You wanna immobilize me, you best make sure in advance I can’t move.”

He felt a hand grab his elbow and lashed out with lethal force, but the guard let him go and dodged the blow easily. “Sir!” the guard shouted. “We aren’t gonna rutting hurt you, you hun dahn!”

“Stop!” yelled a horrified female voice. “Let go of him, now!” she ordered furiously. “Get out!”

The guards obeyed, and Mal gasped for breath, trying to regain his composure as he heard them exit the room. “Who the hell are you?” asked Mal grimly, turning his head in her direction. “And what’s on your agenda, might I ask?” It wasn’t a friendly question.

There was a sort of horror he felt that was completely out of proportion to the situation, and he knew it. He ripped into himself mentally. Get it together, bái yí. They aren’t going to hurt you, they’ve never hurt you. These are the good guys, the people who fixed you when you tried to get yourself killed. Get – it - together!

He felt a hand touch his arm, and the sensation ripped through him like an electric shock as he jumped and forced himself not to cry out. Not being able to see, to track who was touching him and what they might be fixing to do to him was suddenly terrifying. They – aren’t – going – to –hurt – you. He squeezed his eyes shut under the bandage and tried to stop the unpleasant heaving of his chest, his memories taking him to the one place he simply couldn’t handle.

“Be careful, Kelli,” a firm male voice warned from across the room. The hand flinched and pulled away. Mal was indeed a dangerous sight, with a grimly violent expression on his blood-covered face and his fists clenched to attack.

The unseen woman earned several points with Mal by wordlessly, almost roughly jerking loose the restraint that the guards had managed to partly buckle around one arm.

“Listen to me,” said that same voice, much gentler this time. “My name is Kelli, and I’m a nurse. You might not remember me, but I remember you, I know you and I know what you went through last time you were here. Can you hear me?” Her voice was familiar to him, but he couldn’t place her precisely.

Mal nodded. “Good. Don’t worry. I’m going to touch you, please don’t hit me.” Mal felt her touch his arm timidly, an obvious attempt at reassurance. “The guards are gone. You’re not going to be here long, and we’ll take good care of you. Give us just a few minutes and we’ll have you all cleaned up so you can see what’s going on.”

He heard her, but her words hit the same wall that he’d thrown up to block out having to live through a nightmare. It blocked out other things, too. She paused and spoke again. “You’re all right.”

Her hand brushed down his arm, and somewhere in his dizzy haze he felt the prick of the needle that so many times had sent him to a soft, painless, murky place where the world made no sense at all, disorienting him and leaving him with only the faint knowledge that something was wrong, that he needed to do something, but had no idea what it was. As her hand fell away, he realized the needle had existed only in his imagination, and some grasp on reality finally broke through. It was enough to become aware of the present, to make him realize he was sitting relatively unhurt on a hospital bed inexplicably shaken with horror, enough for that fact to embarrass him greatly.

“I’m sorry,” said Mal sheepishly, furious with himself.

“Listen to me,” said the nurse’s intense voice inches from Mal’s ear. “We are not going to hurt you. We are civilian medical professionals, and we want to help you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” said Mal evenly.

He heard a frustrated sigh. “You understand, you just don’t believe us,” said a dry male voice that was terribly familiar to Mal.

“Well, if it isn’t Doctor ‘we’re just gonna slice open body part A and affix it to body part Z while we weld your nostril to your appendix. It’ll feel so much better,’” said Mal with dry sarcasm.

There was an amused chuckle. “Nice to know I’m remembered with such fondness. Name’s Doctor Morgan, if you ever want anything shorter to call me.”

“Oh, I dunno, the other has a nice ring to i-“ Mal and the nurse still standing at his side stopped short as they realized the exact same words were coming from both their mouths.

“Hey, when did you guys clone me?” asked Mal with mock suspicion. She giggled, and laughter spread across the room. Too much laughter, desperately tense people looking for an outlet.

As it died down, Kelli talked to Mal gently. “I know you hate it very much, but I need you to let us restrain you.”

Mal didn’t mean for her to notice the way his breath stopped, or for his dread to be so very obvious. “Do you now,” he said with a cold softness that sounded almost lethal, covering instantly for his nervousness. “And what is it you kind, caring people plan on doin’ to me that I need to be strapped down for? Sein’ as you civilian medical professionals is so intent on helping me and all.”

Dr. Morgan sighed. “I was always taught not to try and handle an injured wild animal. That seems like a pretty good metaphor for you right now.”

“Then I got another,” said Mal. “Wild animals aren’t overly dangerous unless you trap ‘em, back them into a corner. Then they’ll fight you to the death.”

A silence. Mal spoke again. “I’m not a fool. I know you can have an army of men come in, strap me down, do what you will. But I’ll ask you not to.”

“Okay,” said Dr. Morgan finally. “I don’t imagine it’s fair of us to ask for your trust without extending it ourselves.” He moved closer. “Listen to me very carefully. I’m a doctor. I’m highly trained in how to fix people. But it also means I know exactly how to cause them pain. If you come after me or my nurses, I will hurt you more horribly than you can imagine, dong ma?”

Mal had started to relax slightly, but the doctor’s words chilled him. The nurse put a steady hand on Mal’s back, giving him a supportive rub between his shoulders. “That’s – reassuring,” he said sarcastically. He shrugged violently, jerking away from her touch. He had just about zero patience with being simultaneously threatened and patted on the back like a frightened gorram dog.

The doctor’s voice was far kinder when he spoke again. “That marks the only time I will ever threaten you, Sergeant Reynolds. We don’t just use restraints for our safety, we use them so we don’t ever have to threaten or hurt one of our patients. You’re safe here, okay? You just need to understand I am taking a risk.”

Mal nodded grimly, disturbed and angry at having been threatened by the doctor even as he was grateful to him. “Then you need to understand something about me. I don’t turn on them that help me out.”

He turned his head in Kelli’s direction, aware that his anger had targeted a person honestly trying to reach out to him. “Most particularly nice girls who help me even when they’re scared to. Dong ma?”

“Understood,” she said, touched. The nurse slipped a monitor on the end of Mal’s finger, patting his hand. "Just relax now.” "I'm relaxed," protested Mal innocently. "And I can see your monitors," retorted Kelli. "I'm fairly certain you're about three seconds from cardiac arrest." “Gorram monitors,” muttered Mal. He allowed the nurse to guide him to a prone position on the bed and tried not to let on just how vulnerable he felt, lying blinded and injured.

"Kelli, why don't you get a line in so we don't have to turn him into a human pincushion," said Dr. Morgan. "Then hit him with pain meds, antibiotics, vitamin booster, fluids, and an injury immunization pack. Maybe sedate him just a little while you're at it." With an IV line dispensing painkillers and cold packs soothing his bruised arm, the very tense Mal schooled himself to hold still as the nurse carefully cleaned the blood from his face. “Try opening your eyes,” she suggested after a few minutes.

He blinked them open, looking around. It was the scene of his nightmares, clean white walls, monitors and boxes with blinking lights, and him lying on a hospital bed. He looked over at the IV line running into his arm, realizing some very plain differences. He wasn’t strapped down, nor were his bones shattered into a hundred pieces. If he wanted, he could simply stand up and walk out. He relaxed his head back and looked up at the nurse.

“Okay?” she asked soberly.

Mal nodded. “Okay.” He realized he actually meant it, and he closed his eyes, letting the nurse finish her work as Dr. Morgan ran a portable scanner over him. His head was swimming unpleasantly and the gash on his forehead throbbing, but he was slowly relaxing enough to simply wait for it to be over.

Doctor Morgan addressed him calmly. “No broken bones, looks like some deep bruising where you were hit with the baton, and a strained wrist that’ll heal on its own if nobody goes yanking on it again. That’s a very nasty laceration on your forehead, it actually excised a piece of tissue. I’ll tidy it up best I can, put a weave in, and you’ll be good to go. The surface scarring we’ll eventually be able to erase like the rest of your collection, but you’ll probably always have a slight mark there.”

“Okay,” said Mal, wondering as he had so many times what the briefing was for. I was kinda there when they did it to me, he thought sarcastically. And what does he think, I’m gonna suggest an alternate mode of treatment from my vast bank of medical expertise? In a rare act of restraint, he kept his mouth shut.

"Shall we put him under?" asked the nurse. Dr. Morgan thought for a second. "No," he said firmly. "Time Mr. Reynolds here got a chance to see exactly what it is we do." He put a reassuring hand on Mal, who’d tensed involuntarily. "We’ll just use a local.” He met Mal’s eyes. “You’ll be totally numb, and we’re going to be exceptionally careful not to hurt you. I just – want you to experience that, all right? I think it might be a good thing.” Mal nodded. Okay. He saw Kelli approaching his forehead with what suddenly looked like a very large needle. "What was that about NOT turning me into a pincushion?" he asked nervously. "Okay, you got us," said Kelli with a smile. "But it'll be a very small pincushion, I promise." "Ah, the trial size," quipped Mal. "Quit stalling, you big baby," Kelli teased back with a grin, handing the injector to the doctor and carefully brushing Mal's hair back from his forehead. "Turn your head towards me just a bit, and for heaven's sake hold still." Mal obeyed, doing a poor job of hiding his tension. "Here, take my hand," said Kelli, extending it. Mal obeyed, his heart pounding as the doctor started messing with his forehead. He didn’t budge as the needle bit painfully into his skin, determined not to make any move the doctor might perceive as a threat. Kelli felt Mal's grip on her hand tighten painfully, and reached up to the IV bag. She started slowly depressing the plunger on a syringe she had waiting in the line. She trickled the sedative into his vein until she felt his grip loosen and saw his body relax. He was still conscious, just not enough to be quite so terrified.

The unsettling scent of burning flesh trickled through the air. "What's he playin' at up there?" asked Mal uneasily. "Engraving I heart the Alliance on your forehead with a laser, dimwit," replied Kelli cheerfully. Mal chuckled spontaneously, and Kelli socked him lightly on the arm, meeting his eyes with an affectionate grin. "It matches the font on my 'I am evil personified' tattoo rather nicely, I think," added Dr. Morgan. "I think I'm missing my calling with this whole doctor business."

Mal grinned. “At least you label yourself appropriately. We hapless victims appreciate that, you know.” Dr. Morgan and Kelli chuckled, but there was an undercurrent of hurt in their forced smiles. After a minute he spoke again. “Didn't mean to hurt, I -"

The nurse interrupted. “It’s okay, Sergeant.”

“Haven’t I ever told you to call me Mal?” he asked, trying feebly to change the subject.

Kelli pretended to think for a moment. “No,” she said definitively. “I believe you told me to procreate in creative ways with deceased livestock, but not so much with the calling you by your first name.”

“I’m sorry?” Mal sounded like he wasn’t sure if he should apologize or laugh.

She chuckled at the questioning tone of his voice. “It’s okay. We all understood.”

The doctor sat back and stretched, laying his equipment aside. “Well, Sergeant, consider yourself fixed,” he said, admiring his handiwork.

Mal tried to sit up, and immediately regretted it. His head spun, and his body felt like it weighed about a thousand pounds, and he lay back with a groan.

“It – looks like you may want to wait a bit on the walking,” said Dr. Morgan wryly, standing. “Those drugs’ll take a bit to wear off, and some more fluids won’t do you any harm, considering how much blood you lost.” He glanced over at the nurse. “Keep an eye on him for me, Kelli?”

She nodded, and the doctor walked out.

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