A man strode through the crowded streets of Tigress, a port on the planet of Boros, trying to blend into the bustling nightlife of the small tropic town. He kept his eyes on the faces of the milling people around him, trying to see if anyone was giving him a second glance. In this respect, he was fortunate: no one was. Of course, who would look at this man and see anything out of the ordinary? He was dressed in the relaxed island style of an affluent man at play: a white seersucker shirt left half-unbuttoned, a pair of crinkled brown linen pants, and soft-soled brown leather boots. His hair was tousled and windswept, highlighted by the island sun and scented by the salt of the sea.

The man shook his head, flashing a friendly grin to a passing girl who had smiled his way. Perhaps he was just being paranoid. Seeing shadows where there were none. It didn't surprise him, not really. He had spent his whole life being so cautious, and now...

He had never done anything like this before. Never broken a law, never defied the authorities, never kept secrets from the state. A few weeks ago, he would have never thought himself capable of such trespasses. He would have lived out his life in obedience, never once stepping over the line. He would have never harbored a fugitive. And now, here he was, harboring three.

It was funny to say, but he felt a little proud of himself. While he was a good and civil servant to the world at large, in his heart, he had always sensed something was amiss. Stories of the Alliance government had reached him, like so many others. And like so many others, he had chosen not to turn a deaf ear. He had begun to question the intentions of the mighty Alliance. Perhaps it was those very doubts that had led him to do what he had done.

He had been working at one of the trading posts, going through the transmissions and helping the island residents as they stopped by with questions that required his expertise to answer. Living each day identical to the last with few exceptions.

Until two weeks ago. Until that fateful day that he had gone into one of the back storerooms to get a crate of reference materials for his latest customer. The man closed his eyes a moment, reviewing the events that had led up to his new life of crime.

Walking into the darkened room and pressing the button for the lights. Crossing the space, paying no thought to the rows and rows of metal shelving that held supplies, stationary, piles of books and emergency supplies of food. Finding the row of texts he had been seeking, and crouching down before them, sifting through the crates to find the one he needed. And then hearing that cough. The little cough that had turned his simple life around.

Startled, he had looked up. There, at the very end of a row of shelves, huddled into corner where they would not be seen in the dark and scarcely used storage room. Three bodies, cowering from the sight of the man who now stared at them in shock. Two young boys and an even younger girl, quaking in the fear of having been discovered. All three sets of eyes turned to him, and the message he saw in each was the same: Please. Help us.

He had snuck them out, taken them to his home. Fed them, clothed them properly. And in return for his kindness, they told him their terrifying tale. Struck by their plight, he promised to help, in any way he could. And though what they asked required him to break the laws that he had once obeyed fastidiously, required him to operate under the law as they had been forced to do, he did.

And now, a man who had once envied the courage of those who had fought the Alliance, such as the now-legendary River Tam, had become a bona-fide freedom fighter.

He would have thought that he would feel righteous or proud, protecting the little people. Like David battling bravely against Goliath. Or Robin Hood, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. He thought he would have felt like a hero.

Reaching the small building where he lived, he entered his code at the main door and let himself in. He nodded to one of his neighbors as she passed on the stairs, then turned to his door and placed his hand over the palm scanner. The light shone green, and the main door to his apartment slid open. Closing it swiftly and quietly behind him, he smiled at the sight that met him.

Crumpled food packets lay strewn over his formerly neat and tidy domicile. Blankets and clothes were crumpled in corners and tossed haphazardly over the furniture. His cortex cast a flickering light over three bodies that slept soundly in his living room.

No, he did not feel like a hero. He did not feel like a revolutionary. He did not feel pride or fire or courage. All he felt was fear, fear that these children would be torn from his protection, would be taken to the horrid place that he had heard of only twice, and twice too many times. Fear that he would not live up to his promise of saving their lives.

He stepped over the first, of a boy in his late teens who lay curled on the edge of the rug on the floor, facing the main door, a position of protection over the other two. Turning back, the man could spy the form of the other boy, a young man of fourteen years, asleep on the couch, the back of one hand over his face as he snored quietly against the low volume of the cortex. At last, he came upon the youngest of his charges, the seven-year old girl, dozing peacefully on the opposite sofa, huddled under a soft blanket and sucking her thumb.

A warm smile crossing his face, the man turned his eyes down and saw that the girl's ever-present stuffed dog had fallen to the floor beside the sofa. Kneeling down slowly, he picked up the girl's constant companion and lifted her arm, placing it back beneath her hand. The girl stirred and brought the toy closer to her body, fluttering her eyes open hazily. She lifted her head and smiled in thanks. "Thank you, Mr. DuFresne."

"You're welcome, Enida," the man whispered, so as not to disturb the boys. Sliding her covers up over her shoulder, he patted the stuffed dog's head and bopped his finger against her nose, causing her to giggle. "What did you all do today?"

"Nothin', sir," the girl replied, yawning widely. "Jus' watched the broadwaves." She lowered her eyes, suddenly ashamed. "Nye says they're still lookin' for us."

The man glanced back at the oldest boy, his slumbering body anxiously twitching at every noise. "He does?" The girl nodded, her gaze still cast towards the floor. "Well, don't you worry. I'm sure that Rahjiong will get back to us soon. Then we can get you three to someplace safe. Somewhere they won't be able to find you."

Enida turned her eyes up to him, the young eyes that had already seen so much of the cruelty in the 'verse. "Promise?" she whispered.

He nodded in reply, smoothing a wispy black strand of hair back from her round face. "I promise."

The little girl let a tear slip from her eye then, and reached out for the man, her protector, hugging him with her all her might. A silent thanks for sheltering her and her "brothers." Sighing sadly, he hugged her back and sat beside her on the sofa, shushing her and stroking her small back. It pained him to feel her ribs sticking out. He had been trying to feed her properly since she had arrived, but she had been starving for so long that it seemed her body was not used to the sustenance. "It's going to be alright, Eenie. Don't be scared."

She nodded into his shirt, shamed by her weakness. The boys had been so strong; they never cried. She tried to be like them, and sniffled back her tears before looking back up at the man. He drew a thumb across her cheek, wiping away her sorrows, then gently eased her back down onto the sofa and drew her blanket back over her, tucking her in. "Thank you, Mr. DuFresne," she whispered again gratefully.

"Eenie, I've told you a thousand times now," he said, giving her a warm, comforting smile. "Call me Christopher."

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Zoe scratched at the back of her neck, watching the others on the bridge as they read over the wave again. "What's your opinion, Cara?"

The woman sighed in confusion, shaking her head. "I dunno. Don't make much sense, to be perfectly honest."

Mal nodded in agreement. It had been almost a year and a half since they had last seen Rahjiong Suhndi, the monk who presided over the temple at Willowsrun. The temple for those who were different, who had inordinate abilities or characteristics, like Cara had once and River currently possessed. It was community of peace, where those who did not fit into normal society could be trained, taught and sheltered from the rest of the 'verse by a reclusive order of Buddhist monks. Men, women and children forced to hide away from the world who had created a society of their own, where they welcomed and protected those like themselves. And Rahjiong, the senior monk and a powerful seer, led them all.

Mal had gone to him once, with Cara's help, to find the source of vicious and vivid nightmares that had been plaguing him for weeks, visions of the people he had lost along the way. The monk had helped, but did so reluctantly, and for a price. And at the end of the day, it had led Mal into his first fight with River. Needless to say, Mal did not associate the name Rahjiong with good times. The captain would have been fine to leave the man and his people on their forgotten moon and gone on his way.

But now the man had come into their lives again, this time by wave. Requesting them to transport four passengers out of Boros and to the Willowsrun moon. Offering them a small fortune to do so. And leaving not so much as a hint as to why.

The captain mulled over all this in his head a moment, then turned to Cara in the co-pilot's seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, then let's start with what does."

Cara raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "Gotta be potential students. Maybe kids on the run. That might account for the fee."

"I'm a-countin' the fee jus' fine," Jayne said, leaning over the read the sum again. Eighty platinum, paid upon the safe arrival of the passengers. "Lookin' like a gorramn load a money in my pocket." Cara punched him lightly in the ribs, and he sneered in response. "I'd share."

Shaking her head, the woman braced her palms at the small of her back, supporting herself as she walked over the pilot's cortex. River slid lithely out of the chair, relinquishing her seat, and Cara nodded thankfully as she sat down and leaned over to peer at the screen. "Where's the pickup again?" she said, scrolling her fingers over the text.

"Tigress," Zoe stated from memory.

Kaylee looked over at her. "Tigress? Ain't heard of that town."

Zoe reached over her head and brought up the navsat on one of the screens. Tapping her fingers over Boros, she zoomed in. "It's a port-town in the southern hemisphere, near Nasya. Bordered by the Tahoi on three sides."

"The Tahoi Sea?" Simon interjected, stepping across the room to take a closer look. His voice became worried. "Isn't that where-"

"S'okay, doc," Mal said, shaking his head slightly. "Akers place was on the other side of the Tahoi. 'Sides, he been in the clink for a while, an' I'm thinkin' he'll be there a mite longer for what he's done."

Simon shook his head. The memory of the young businessman who had killed a family of three and used them to pay a gambling debt still stung in his mind. "Lovely. I feel so much better." Kaylee reached over and rubbed his shoulder for reassurance.

"Hmm," Mal replied noncommittally. He looked over at River, silently asking for her input. But she only shrugged. She was getting no reading off the wave, at least nothing that helped them. Whatever Rahjiong's intentions were, good or bad, she could not tell.

"So, Rahjiong wants us to help some of them kids," Kaylee said, breaking the silence. "Maybe get 'em some help." Off Jayne's greedy smile, she added, "An' get paid fer it. Pardon me, but I ain't seein' the ulteriors here."

But Cara shook her head as she turned around. "Naw, Kaylee, sumthin' stinks here."

Mal, Zoe, Jayne and River all nodded. Seeing this, Simon spoke up. "What do you mean?"

The woman rubbed a hand over her belly thoughtfully, meeting his eyes. "'Cause when last we left my former employer, we weren't 'xactly seein' eye to eye on the type of crew I was runnin' with. Asked me to make a choice, an' when I did, turned out not to be the choice he woulda liked." She shrugged it off. "Sorta dissolved our business relationship."

"He fired you?" Kaylee asked, surprised and slightly hurt. "Over us?"

"Aw, don't take no offense, lil' Kaylee," Cara said, smiling sincerely to comfort her. "Rahjiong's always had a bit of a hard head. He sees things in black an' white."

"An' this 'verse tends towards the grayer side of the color wheel," Zoe added.

Mal had to agree. "So it begs the question, what would make a monochrome fella such as himself reach out to folk like us?" It was not an idle question. He looked to Cara for a response.

"See, that's the other thing. Man's got ships at his beck," she said, ignoring the inquiry completely. She was still slightly shocked to hear from her old teacher. "Others out there doin' what I did. Shuttlin' students to an' from that ol' moon. Why he'd contract out, I'm havin' trouble conjurin'."

Kaylee tilted her head in thought. "Maybe they're all busy."

"Well, then wouldn't it be the decent-like thing t'do to help 'em out. And get PAID," Jayne insisted. He didn't understand what all the talking was about. There was eighty platinum pieces on the horizon, and he was just itching to get at it.

Ignoring him easily, Mal continued his train of thought. "If'n there's some impatience on the ol' man's end, it would definitely add to your fugitive theory, Cara." Again, he looked to River, who was leaning over Cara's shoulder, trying to squeeze out any hidden meaning imbued in the monk's written word. "Albatross, you been pretty quiet. What's your two cents?"

River grumbled softly, and Mal could not deny the way the sound seemed to echo in his heart. "Questions. Many questions and no answers." She straightened up, turning to Mal with folded arms. "Yet."

The captain sensed her meaning and grunted in agreement. Rising to his feet, he turned to the others. "Why don'tchall give us the room?" The "us" he referred to was implied. River and Zoe stay put as the others turned and filtered out, Jayne giving Mal a silent thumbs-up as he left.

Rolling his eyes, Mal caught Cara's arm as she moved to follow. "Not you, Miss Cara." As the woman turned in surprise, she could hear Zoe close the outer door behind the others. The captain dropped his voice. "How long you been under my employ now?"

"Uh," Cara stammered, glancing at the other women in the room. River had seated herself at the pilot's seat and, having read Mal's mind, was now typing into the cortex to open a live wavelink. Zoe stood before the door, arms crossed. Cara looked up at Mal again. "'Bout a year an' six months now, Capt'n."

He nodded. "'Bout time I got a reference, don'tcha think?"

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In the misty hills that surrounded the Willowsrun Temple, there was a calm that seemed to permeate the air. A lone monk and a great shaggy hound strode through the quiet mountain forest, savoring the crisp, fresh oxygen as it filled their lungs. The trees around them were silent and still, only the sound of the woodland creatures to resound against their solid and sturdy trunks. It was a tiny place in the galaxy where peace could be found.

Yet despite this, the monk found no peace within himself. Instead, there was worry and distress. He could feel his responsibilities tugging at his heart, and his fear racked within his mind. He had to admire the irony: he had come to the forrest to find serenity, because Serenity was nowhere to be found.

As they reached the base of the dizzying flight of stairs that led to the temple campus, he absently reached out to pet the dog that loped beside him. The wolfhound turned his narrow head up with concern. Even the animal could sense it: Rahjiong was not himself.

A daunting climb later, the elderly monk and the dog reached the crest of the stairs, just as a flurry of yellow robes rushed over to the older man. "Master Suhndi, Master Suhndi!" he called.

Looking up, Rahjiong saw the person who had belonged to the voice. It was a young prefect named Peter, holding the knees of his robes so as not to trip over the hem. "Yes, Peter, what is it?"

The prefect bent to his knees and touched his head to the ground respectfully as he reached the Buddhist master. "Sir, you have a wave on the central cortex. I've directed it to your screen."

The old man felt his heart begin to race. He knew the answer to his question before he asked it. "It's them."

"I believe so, sir."

Gathering his robes, the surprisingly quick elder bowed his thanks to the prefect and hurried down the hall towards his rooms. Students stopped to watch their senior instructor as he bustled past them, and some leaned over to whisper to their companions. Whatever had gotten Master Suhndi into such a tizzy must be either very good news, or very bad.

Entering his chambers and closing his door behind him, Rahjiong did not notice as the wolfhound who had followed him curled up on a cushion near the door. He only stepped over to the curtains that obscured his cortex and knelt on the pad before it. Whispering a soft prayer to Buddha, he reached forward, touching the screen and bringing it to life, the familiar face of a woman meeting him as it did.

"Hello, Rahjiong," said Cara, furrowing her brow.

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He looked just as River had remembered. Withered and wrinkled skin resting over a thin face of Asian descent, and the clear and intelligent eyes that shone with a light from within. The shaved head, the orange robes. Everything was the same. Only, nothing was the same.

The normally serene and placid monk let out a sigh of relief as the bridge of Serenity came into view on his cortex screen. "My child. How are you?"

"Puzzled," the woman replied quickly, and a little harsher than any of them would have expected.

"I see," Rahjiong replied, clearing his throat. He could see the three others in the room with his former student, could feel them watching their conversation intently. Though he would never let it show, it was uncomfortable to feel their eyes and ears on him. "No small talk, then. Yes, I imagine your captain would prefer it if we discussed business directly."

Cara crossed her arms. "He ain't the only one."

She turned her eyes up to Mal, and the captain nodded, leaning into the camera's sight. "We got your wave, Mister Rahjiong. 'Bout the job."

The monk stared at his former pupil a moment longer, then brought his glance over to Mal. The look in his eyes was a mysterious one, and only River was able to decipher its meaning. He doesn't like you, Mal, she thought. He's opened you up, and he doesn't like what he's seen. Rahjiong spoke then, and River abandoned her passing thought to hear what he had to say.

"And? You'll take my offer?"

Mal shook his head once. "Hold onto your horses, friend. Ain't said that yet." Mal could almost hear Jayne's outburst of objection, had he been in the room to make it. "We gotta coupla questions need answers regardin' your 'offer.'"

Rahjiong nodded sagely. "And I would be pleased to answer them." He glanced at River pointedly, yet without the venom he had reserved for the others. "I harbor no secrets from you."

Mal leaned over Cara's shoulder, blocking River from view. "Let's start with the passengers, then. Who are they?"

"Three potential students. Nye, he is the oldest, contacted me a few months ago, hoping to be brought to the shelter of our temple," the monk said softly. "I had made preparations for him to be brought in, but then he..." The monk lowered his head, and River could feel the concern emanating from him. He was not blocking her from his mind as he could have. He had not lied. There were no secrets to be found in him. "He disappeared," Rahjiong continued. "When he was finally able to contact me again, he had found two more children, like himself. All in need of help."

Zoe, as always, picked up on the hole in his story. "Wave said four passengers. Who's number four?"

"Their chaperone," the monk replied truthfully, which River confirmed through a small nod to Mal. "The man who took them in when they needed shelter. He has insisted on accompanying them for their journey, seeing them safely to the temple." Again, he looked at the young lady at Mal's right hand. "I trust his intentions to be good."

"Why us, Rahjiong?" the woman in the center asked, and the monk moved his gaze to meet with hers. "Why call us? Why not go and pick 'em up yourself?"

Here, the monk sighed, and River felt a flurry of emotions pour from his mind. Visions, imagined and real, more frightful and harrowing than either of them could have put into words. "Because they are being followed." He closed his eyes fretfully, lowering his head. "By the Alliance."

Mal balked immediately at the words, but it was the firm grip of River's hand on his arm that brought him back. He turned his face to her, and found her expression to be quaking with fear. "By the Academy."

Mal stared at her a moment, laying his hand over hers comfortingly. Cara and Zoe snuck glances at them, at the suddenly terrified look on River's face. "No," Mal said softly, and with urgency. He turned to face the cortex screen again. "No. Sorry, but we can't."

Zoe darted her eyes back and forth between Mal and River's faces. "Sir-"

"Appreciate the 'offer,' Rahjiong, but we'll have to decline," the captain leaned forward and reached out towards the cortex power switch.

"Please!" the monk cried, and his tone was enough to stay Mal's hand a moment. "Please, Captain Reynolds." The man looked at the monk's pleading face once more, his index finger hovering over the switch. He could feel River's hand slide up to his shoulder, gripping it in a silent request that he hear the man out. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he dropped his arm back to his side.

Rahjiong let out a grateful breath. "I cannot send one of our ships. If the Alliance is watching these children, my people could not hope to defend themselves against a military attack." He looked once again at Cara, and once again took a rather demeaning tone. "They are all strictly non-violent."

But Cara only kept her arms folded over her belly, staring daggers back at the monk. "You're supposed to be makin' your case here, remember?"

To her surprise, the monk bowed his head in apology. "I'm sorry. I... I have not been getting much sleep." He looked up at Mal and River. The captain had slid a protective arm around River's shoulders and was looking at her with earnest concern as she stood at his side, eyes closed, wordlessly fighting back the memories of the Academy. "I did not know who else to turn to. You have fought the Alliance before, and with success. We could not hope to achieve the same, if it were to come to that."

"And if it don't?" Zoe said quietly, raising her eyes to the monk's face.

Rahjiong faced her politely, knowing what her silent question was. "You will still be paid the full sum."

River opened her eyes, having defeated the deluge of images that had rushed into her brain at the very thought of her hell. She looked at the face of the monk, who had silently shared her mental episode. His eyes shared an understanding with her, brimming with respect from and for them both. He knew her fears, and he shared them, only his concern was for the three children for whom he felt responsible simply because they were like him, and like her as well. And though River did not realize it yet, she felt it too.

Mal saw the connection they were making, and it bothered him. Despite their problems, he still knew River's heart, and he could feel it go out to these children in need. That, mixed with her vague sense of invulnerability were all warring against the immovable instinct he had to keep her safe. She wanted to go, and he did not agree.

"You trust us?" Cara said, breaking the tension in the room with a comment filled with only more of the same. "You trust us to bring 'your' people in? Last we spoke, Rahjiong, you didn't seem to think much of the likes of us." She did not hesitate to group herself with her crew rather than the man who had raised her.

"I did not mean to leave things between us the way I did," the monk replied, meeting her glare unflinchingly. "And for that I apologize. But I cannot say I agree with your methods or practices. Unfortunately for both of us, you were right, my child."

"About what?"

"The world outside these walls is much different than the world within it. And to protect the innocent..." He sighed, closing his eyes in defeat. "Some necessary evils must be performed."

Mal could feel River look up at him from his side. Her eyes were firm, strong. Assuring him that this was right. That it was the honorable thing to do. That these people needed help, and they were possibly the only ones that could help them. And in this moment, Mal wished that his honor could shove itself.

Still, he nodded at River, giving his consent. Seeing their exchange, Zoe spoke. "Necessary evils. Well, that's us." She bent over Cara's shoulder and rested her hand on the power switch. "We'll take the job." With that, she shut the cortex off, and Rahjiong's grizzled face faded into nothingness.

Mal turned to River, keeping his voice low. "You're sure, lil' albatross?"

She nodded stoically, her gaze cast towards his boots. "The Academy wants them, Mal. Wants to turn them into me, or worse." She raised her head, and Mal recognized the determination he saw there. "We can't let that happen."

The captain squared his jaw, then nodded his head towards the pilot's seat. "Go on. Set a course." River bobbed her head once in response, lowering herself to fill the chair that Cara had just vacated.

"I'll tell the crew," Zoe said, crossing the bridge and opening the door. She turned back to Cara. "Grab a mop on your way out. Jayne very well could wet hisself." The pregnant woman and Mal both hid smiles as she made her way through the door and into the corridor.

As Cara moved to follow her, Mal cleared his throat. "Thanks," he grunted. She looked over her shoulder, slowly turning to face him. "Knew that couldn'ta been easy for ya."

She shrugged casually, but Mal could see her hand gripping her unborn child protectively. "He ain't my concern no more. I'm under your orders now, Capt'n."

Mal dug his hands into his pockets, averting her disquietingly loyal eyes. "If'n you wanna sit this one out, I'd under-"

But she held up a palm and smiled, hoping her captain would believe the lie. "Stop. Don't concern yerself with me. I'm a big gal. An' a washin' might do my dirty ol' soul some good." Mal cocked his head quizzically at her, and she smiled, clarifying. "Get these kids get to Rahjiong, so he can help 'em liked he once helped me."

"Okay," Mal said, accepting this. Cara smirked and nodded once, turning again to leave. "Cara?"

She paused a moment at the door. "Yeah?"

"The baby name." He said, forcing a smile of his own. "You was right. It's a real... a real fine name."

It was a lie, and they both knew it. But still, the ends of Cara's mouth tugged into an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Capt'n." She turned and followed Zoe's path, out the door and down the stairs, and the sound of her bootsteps could be heard as they echoed into the galley.

"She's faking," River said softly, as soon as the woman was out of earshot.

"I know it." Mal lifted one of his hands out of its pocket and drug it through his hair. He peered around him, his gaze finally settling on the young woman seated at the pilot's controls, preparing the turn the ship towards Boros. "She ain't the only one."

He could have been talking about either one of them, but River knew which he meant. "I am afraid." She lowered her head, still holding the invasive nightmares of the Academy at bay within her mind. Flashes of faces, of needles, of the horrid visions of behavioral conditioning that had been pumped into her brain. Having her powers pushed to the limit, just to see how far they could go, how far they would be useful for. Having her amygdala stripped to boost her perception. Giving up on God, on hope, and on her brother one by one.

And for all that they had done to her, she knew there was more. If Simon hadn't come, if she hadn't been rescued, they would have done more. They would have turned her into the mindless killing machine they so desperately wanted. And then she would have been lost. Dead, but not quite. Trapped in her own mind as her body disobeyed. That would have been the true torture, the true hell.

If she could save one child from that fate, much less three, she had to take her chances. And she knew in her heart, as Mal did, that the crew would agree. Save Jayne, of course.

She could feel Mal's callused palm slide over her shoulders and grip them supportively, and she was knocked from her vengeful reverie. "I know," he said quietly.

River leaned forward, taking the controls. "But this is right, Mal."

"I know that, too."

The young pilot smiled to herself. "Well, don't you just know everything, then?"

She could feel Mal smile for no one in particular. "Boros is twelve clicks to our starboard, a thousand miles out," he said, though he was confident that she already knew that. "When we get there, we'll find out."