A/N: Sad to say, the angst is not really going to ease up anytime soon ... but did you really expect any less from me?

Thanks again to Leiasky for the beta!

I've been trying to think of a really, really good way to beg for comments and keep coming up empty. So here's a thought ... DON'T MAKE ME BEG!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Link to prompt table

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The Right To Love - Chapter 5 (Prompts 31-40)

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031. Parent

As Jayne blew the door off Mal’s cell using one of his precious grenades, River sprinted through the gaping hole, not even waiting until the smoke had cleared. She couldn’t wait – there wasn’t time; daddy was dying.

Despite the urgency with which she felt his life ebbing away she did freeze at the sight of him. Bloody, beaten; her throat constricted as giant sobs, too big to cry, welled and caught there.

“River, gorramit, girl! We gotta go!” Jayne was growling at her, his voice and eyes intense as he tried to hoist Mal’s limp form up and other his shoulder.

River watched for one more second as Captain Daddy’s head fell at a sickening angle against Jayne’s shoulder, before wiping her eyes and turning, gun in hand, ready to fight her way back out – back home.

032. Child

It had only been three days, right?

That was it, three days, seventy-two hours, and yet the woman Simon beheld before him now was barely recognizable. Bruised and broken, her limbs cocked at odd angles, her face – her beautiful face – torn by fists and weapons.

She was unconscious, and as Simon knelt before her, he thanked the Gods for that one kindness – that she was unconscious, that she couldn’t feel, at least, not at the moment. Her face, even mangled, held a look of innocence in sleep, a child-like peacefulness that he had always envied. Now, as he reached his hands to her neck, feeling for her pulse, weak and thready, he just wanted her to blink open those big, green eyes to him, and smile wide.

“Simon, we ain’t got time for starin’.” Zoe’s insistent whisper shook him from his reverie, and pulling a syringe from his bag, he injected Kaylee with a smoother that would ensure she stayed asleep for a good long while. They could not risk her waking and injuring herself further or crying out and marring their escape.

Although, as Simon lifted her limp form as gently as he could into his arms, he realized the chances of her waking up at all were slim to none.

033. Blood

It was all over him. His shirt, his arms, his pants, even his face, blood: red and angry everywhere – Kaylee’s blood. It sickened him. Simon was a trained trauma surgeon, he had dealt with blood, injuries, wounds, most too grotesque to speak of, but never had he felt the very real need to vomit at the sight – until now.

As he worked hurriedly over Kaylee’s body, doing his best to stabilize her, to address the worst injuries first so he could do his job and patch up the captain as well, Simon felt the bile rising in his throat, the acid burning a trail of fire down his spine as he resisted the gagging reflex fighting in his gut. He did his best to block out her; to forget how intimately he knew her body, how completely he knew her face, and treat the injury.

First, cracked ribs, all of them, some having broken through the skin, causing wounds and infections to erupt along her abdomen, then, broken bones: wrist, shoulder, fingers, leg, toes, and finally, stitches, gashes along her forehead, one from the corner of her mouth all the way to her ear, one along the top of her shoulder and down across her shoulder blade, and one down the middle of her chest, between the valley of her breasts and to her belly button.

With trained efficiency he had drawn her blood, noting the pinpricks dotting her arms and back where countless needles containing who knows what medications had been driven into her. With a clinical detachment, he performed the test to determine if anything else had been forced. As he waited for the results, he tended to Mal.

Physically turning his back on her, where she lay on the exam table in the middle of their pathetic infirmary, almost proved impossible, until Inara entered the room. Without a word, she took up a place at Kaylee’s side, her tear-filled eyes never leaving the mechanic’s face. Knowing that at least Kaylee was being watched over, Simon did finally focus on Mal and found it easier, almost soothing, to tend to his wounds.

They were worse than Kaylee’s in many respects, but not. These wounds, this torture, Mal had suffered before. Kaylee, bright, sweet, Kaylee, had not – she had never been held at the mercy of a madman, never been beaten to within an inch of her life. Never had always seemed like such a formidable word.

Turning with a weary sigh from where he had sown up Mal’s last wound, Simon slid down the wall under the second bunk, falling onto the cold floor, his knees pulled into his chest, his arms folded across them. Burying his head there, he wanted to cry, and then he wanted to scream, hurt something, someone the way Kaylee was hurting.

The light hand to his shoulder startled him, and when Simon again raised bleary eyes, he was met with Inara’s concerned gaze. “You did well, Simon,” she told him softly.

Shaking his head, he moved to stand, and took the hand she offered for aid. Moving to where Kaylee’s tests were finishing, he told her, “No, I didn’t. I did what I could and that isn’t even close to enough.” With more fear in his heart than he had ever remembered feeling before, he watched as Kaylee’s results rolled across his data screen. The list of drugs she’d been injected with was a mile long, each more detrimental than the other. The fact that she was still alive was a testament to her strength. Swallowing thickly, he shut his eyes and said a silent prayer as the final result showed up.

“What is it?” Inara asked, her own concern torn between her best friend and her love.

“Nothing,” Simon murmured, his voice rough from the weight of his contained emotion. “I just …”

“She wasn’t?” Inara asked, her eyes again falling to Kaylee’s battered form. Raising her gaze back to Simon as he turned to regard her, she asked haltingly, “Was she?”

Shaking his head, Simon said, “No, apparently they only wanted to drug her, cut her, break her and then kill her.” With despair and rage in his tone, he muttered, “They didn’t think to rape her too.”

Inara swallowed hard at his statement. She looked back to her mei mei and then stopped fighting her heart and focused all her attention on Mal. There was no where on him that she could touch and not run her hand along a wound, only to pull it back with blood wetting her fingers. She could only stare, and so she did.

The room was deadly silent for a long while, until finally Simon asked, “Where are we going? They need real medical facilities, and I –“

“We’re getting help,” Inara answered him, her eyes never leaving Mal’s face. “We’re going to get them help.”

034. Rebirth

River flew Serenity with ease, but the feel of the ship, responding to her will no longer brought the warm satisfaction she was accustomed to. Now, Serenity was nothing more to her than metal and parts, cold and unfeeling; she took no pleasure it dictating its movements, in having control. Controlling the boat was no longer a challenge as she was too busy trying to control herself.

The sight of Mal and Kaylee had reawakened something in her, something she thought she’d left buried in a pile of dead and slashed Reavers; dropped to the ground with the bloody scythes; discarded with the rest of the reconstruction.

But she’d been wrong. River’s blood continued to boil with that rage she’d felt, her gut continued to churn with adrenaline, her body continued to pulse, ready for a fight. She was ready.

River, one-time girl turned experiment turned crazy turned killer turned pilot turned reader had finally come full circle; back to River, the assassin.

035. Life

This had been his life once; hell, this sterile and clean place had almost been his home. Even though Simon’s eyes remained riveted on the scene below, watching as a team of doctors and nurses fought to save his beloved’s life, his mind wandered through a mental slide show of emotions and memories. This brain trip down memory lane was the only way to keep him from hurling himself through the glass of the observation room’s window and keening over Kaylee’s body.

They had arrived at the hospital on Bernadette under false pretenses, keeping Serenity in high orbit, while Inara piloted Simon, Kaylee, Mal and Zoe to the surface. It was too dangerous for the firefly to set down, one look at the ship’s registry and half the Alliance presence on the planet would have her surrounded in no time. With Inara’s usual grace and aplomb she had lied them all the way into this facility, fibbed Kaylee and Mal into receiving the best medical attention, deceived enough to forgo any uncomfortable questions.

Simon had held Kaylee’s hand the whole ride down. Even bandaged, he still held it, needing to touch her, needing to be near her. If he could have managed to hold her, he would have, but her injuries and her unstable condition had prevented that and so he had had to resign himself to just her hand.

If that was the last memory he had of her, Simon knew he would not be able to live. He would waste away to nothing, because without Kaylee he was …

With a heavy sigh and burning eyes, he continued to stare, his arms crossed over his chest, his face stony, expressionless. Yes, this place, this job had once been his life. How ironic to now be watching as this place, held not only his life, but his very soul in the balance. The balance between nothing and everything.

036. Death

Soon, there would be nothing. Inara was certain of that. Nothing of her, nothing of him, just … nothing.

She already felt dead, inside, her heart shriveled and tiny, barely beating in her chest. Having known, all this time that Mal could die, at any moment, was very different than watching Mal die for moments at a time.

He wasn’t doing well – that had been as plain as anything to her. Despite Simon’s best efforts, his condition had gone from bad to worse, just as Kaylee’s had in the past ten hours. River had pushed Serenity as hard and as fast as she would go, burning their fuel cells to the maximum, but those ten hours had been unbearable. Of course, compared to the last two, they seemed almost jolly.

Inara paced in the waiting room, unable to sit still. Zoe was with her, Simon having followed Kaylee’s form on the stretcher, using his knowledge of medicine and his commanding demeanor to get a front row view of her mei mei’s operation. The thought turned her stomach; how Simon could be watching as Kaylee was cut apart and haphazardly put back together again, she did not understand. Just the thought of watching someone place a scalpel to Mal’s already wounded chest made her heave.

With tears again in her eyes, she quickly sprinted across the room to the nearest lavatory and burst into an empty stall, throwing up. Sinking to the floor, Inara allowed her face to drop into her hands and she sobbed, surprised to feel a hand on her shoulder not even a minute later.

Turning quickly and wiping at her cheeks, she saw Zoe’s concerned expression, her deep chocolate eyes conveyed more emotion than Inara could ever hope to feel. Offering her the weakest of smiles, Inara murmured, “I can’t lose him,” before crying once more.

Pulling the woman to her feet, Zoe actually embraced her and whispered back, “Me neither.”

037. Resurrection

She woke when he did, her eyes snapping open, her body instantly tense, alert. With barely a thought, she rose, dressed and started her mission.

The assassin was no longer dormant – she was awake and ready.

***

With a start, Simon jerked his head back as his chin fell to his chest. Opening sleep-laden eyes, he rubbed his hands across his face, trying to increase the blood flow and stay awake.

It was no easy feat, he had not slept for more than an hour or two for almost a full week. His last night of peaceful sleep had been the night before the job; and he remembered with happiness and longing how even that night had been not entirely restful, he and Kaylee finding ways to stay awake and exhaust themselves for hours.

Sitting forward in his uncomfortable chair, Simon stretched his back muscles, his arms reaching far over his head. As he brought them back down, he inched forward a bit more and rested his hand against Kaylee’s, his other against her cool forehead.

She hadn’t awoken yet. It had been almost four days since the surgery and she still had not opened those big green eyes to him. The doctors had told him that the number of drugs in her system coupled with the amount of blood she’d lost and her body’s overwhelming exhaustion would keep her under for a good long while. And while Simon clinically, medically agreed with their assessment, it did not stop him from wanting, needing her to wake up.

Her face was already healing, the doctors having applauded his suturing skills, his talent with a stitch. Now, with the medicine they were pumping into her system, the redness was fading, the bruises starting to lose their harsh purple color. With the gentlest of touches, he ran one finger over a particularly nasty mark, broken blood vessels evident under her skin. Choking back a sob, Simon leaned his forehead onto the hand he held lightly and sighed heavily, waiting for her to come back to him.

***

Zoe watched the captain as his eyelids fluttered open, fighting the urge to awaken Inara who had managed to fall asleep just minutes before across the room. Standing next to his bed, Zoe rested her hand against his and waited as his blue eyes, familiar to her as any, brought her into focus.

He tried to speak and failed on the first three attempts. Just as he allowed his frustration to show, his tongue finally cooperated. “Ya ain’t dead.” His voice was rough and sluggish and after speaking those three words he felt like he’d just given a state of the union address.

Smiling lightly at him, Zoe nodded once and said, “Good to see you too, sir.”

“’Nara?” His voice was almost incomprehensible, but Zoe deciphered it regardless.

With another smile, Zoe walked across the room and shook the woman’s shoulder to waken her. Snapping her head up and blinking rapidly, she turned to Zoe, tears already forming in her eyes. “What is it?” she asked, her voice breathless.

Cocking her head to the bed, Zoe said, “There’s somebody wants to see ya.”

As Inara bolted out of the chair and to Mal’s side, Zoe took her leave, heading to radio Serenity.

“Oh, Mal, Mal, Mal.” Inara kept repeating his name over and over again even as she brushed light kisses all over his face and into his scalp. Her tears fell, hot and heavy against his face, stinging in some of his wounds, but he didn’t care.

Finally pulling back from him just a bit, Inara’s watery brown eyes met his misty blue ones and her knees buckled. Falling back into a chair, she wrapped her hands tenderly around one of Mal’s wishing she could stop her tears, but unable to do so. Smiling weakly at him, Inara ran a hand through his light brown hair, still soft despite all he’d been through and then sat gingerly on the edge of his bed, lifting his bandaged hand in hers.

“You came back,” she murmured, her crimson lips against the white bandage. “You came back to me.”

Nodding imperceptibly, Mal felt the drugs in his system start to work their magic again. Even as his eyes refused to remain open, he managed to murmur, “I’ll always come back to you, darlin’,” before he was again asleep.

038. Dawn

“Kaylee?”

No response.

“Kaylee, bao bei, it’s time to wake up.”

Silence.

“Mal’s awake, Kaylee. He came around last night, so it’s time for you to wake up too, dong ma?”

Still nothing.

Running his hand lightly through her brown-gold hair, Simon leaned his lips close to her ear and kept talking, willing his voice to stay even. “It’s okay, Kaylee, really. Those men, they’re gone, they’re not going to hurt you ever again.

“I’m here, Kaylee, It’s Simon and I need you. I need you to wake up and look at me. Do you hear me? I don’t want you to, I need you too.

“Bao bei, please. We have so much to do, so many things to see. I want to show you … everything. I want to love you for the rest of my life, so you have to wake up. You have to get better.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I let you go. I’m sorry I waited eight months to love you. I’m sorry for every time I said something stupid, for every time I’ve made you cry, for anytime I ever will again. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this. I’m sorry I didn’t come faster. I’m sorry I …”

His voice gave out. It had been a valiant effort, a decent attempt at trying, by sheer force of will, to rouse her, but in the end, futile. With a heavy sigh, Simon turned his head to look out the room’s windows and saw the first crack of light over the horizon – a new day.

It should have been hopeful, a sign of things just starting. But with bitterness in his bones, Simon turned his back to that fake light, that false friend, and continued to will his sunshine back into radiance.

039. Dusk

Mal opened his eyes and blinked quickly, afraid he was going blind. The light was fading. Why was the light fading? His eyes were open, weren’t they?

“’Nara?”

She was by him in an instant, a small smile ghosting over her lips. “Yes, Mal?” she asked, brushing a hand through his hair.

“It’s dark,” he stated, his eyes roaming the room, noting the lengthening shadows.

Her smile deepening, she murmured, “Well, I see we’re back to stating the obvious. Feeling better then?”

When smirking at her in his usual way brought a stab of pain coursing through his face, Inara’s own amused grin quickly faded. Sitting in the chair at his bedside, she tried to soothe him, her hand still against his forehead and blessedly cool. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Looking out the room’s window, she explained, “The sun’s setting and I turned off the overhead lights during the day. They’re so bright.” Bringing her warm eyes back to him, she offered, “I can turn them back on, if you want?”

Shaking his head slightly, Mal realized that the waning sun was allowing ambient light to stream into the room, lighting Inara’s hair and features with a soft glow that made her look like the angel he knew she was. “Nah, I’m good. Don’t go no where.”

Edging closer to him, Inara whispered, “I’m not,” before leaning down and brushing a light kiss to his lips. As she pulled away he saw more tears in her eyes, and he easily guessed at the cause.

“Why ain’t you tol’ me nothin’ ‘bout Kaylee?” His own voice was tight with the emotion he was fighting; he had asked in the past few days, each time he’d awoken, about his mechanic, his mei mei. But Inara had always managed to summon a doc to knock him out or avoid his questions; tonight, he was getting answers.

Swallowing thickly, Inara dropped her gaze to his once bandaged hand; now only the palm was covered, his fingers, still bruised but healing nicely. “She’s healing, Mal. She’ll be fine.”

Managing to squeeze her hand ever so slightly, even though his fingers protested the bending, Mal got her to look back to him. “Now I know that’s an outright lie.”

Inara tried to smile at him, but she couldn’t. It was a lie, a bold-faced, not-a-kernel-of-truth-type of lie and Inara’s cheeks colored at the telling. Holding his hand in her own, Inara met his gaze and said quietly, “She hasn’t woken up yet, Mal.”

His eyes widening with fear and concern, Mal’s heart plummeted in his chest. This was not happening; his lil’ Kaylee was not supposed to suffer – ever. Closing his eyes, he uttered a long string of Mandarin curse words, only stopping to inhale a deep breath so he could continue. When he again blinked his eyes open, he saw that Inara was crying silent tears and in that moment, he knew how very bad this all was.

Thinking to his captor, Mal realized there were no words in English, Chinese or any other gorram language in the ‘verse to describe Adeli Niska. The man wasn’t human, and barely ranked as an animal. He was the worst kind of being to live: an amoral, evil and self-righteous hun dan who took pleasure in hurting innocents like Kaylee. And Mal had let him.

Swallowing several times to be able to speak, he finally managed to get out, “Will she?”

Nodding hurriedly, Inara told him, “The doctors think so. Simon thinks so.” Pausing again, Inara’s mind flashed to that horrible image of Kaylee’s bloody and broken form when they had first rescued her. Shaking her head to clear the mental picture, she told him, “She was in really bad shape. They think her body is just trying to heal.”

With a hollowness to his tone, he bit out, “How bad is really bad?”

With sympathetic eyes, Inara knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to paint the most vivid picture in his mind so he could blame himself for all that had happened. “Mal,” she implored, her eyes begging him not to make her tell.

“How bad?” he bit out again, a resolution flashing in his eyes that Inara had seen one too many times before.

After another heavy sigh, that brought a few more tears, Inara scooted closer to him, his hand still in hers and started to explain.

040. Midnight

Somewhere a bell was chiming. Not a high-pitched annoying clang, but the warm, rich tone of a church bell, ringing resolutely in some steeple. Simon’s ears listened, even as his eyes remained fixed on Kaylee’s face, and counted.

One.

Why had he let her go?

Two.

He should have been there.

Three.

Would she be the same when she opened her eyes?

Four.

He didn’t care.

Five.

What if he couldn’t help her?

Six.

He had to.

Seven.

When had she become his everything?

Eight.

The night of the Reaver attack.

Nine.

No, really. When?

Ten.

The first time he laid eyes on her.

Eleven.

Where did they go from here?

Twelve.

Only one choice: forward.

Midnight. With a sigh, Simon let his head drop to her hand. She had been unconscious now for six days. Bringing his eyes back to her face, he watched as the moon, finally full, shone onto her features, lighting them with an ethereal glow that made her brilliant.

With barely another thought, Simon leaned out of his chair, and brought his lips to within inches of hers. They were still swollen and bruised from the attack, but as he lowered his mouth to brush a kiss across them, he murmured, “Midnight, bao bei. Time to leave the ball. Time to wake up.”

The kiss took less than a second, but as Simon pulled back and again looked to her face, his breath caught in his throat, the wide green eyes he had been dying to see, needing to see, pleading to see, finally seeing him.

“Simon?”

***

Chapter 6