E-Mail: browncoat.malcolm@gmail.com

Status: Completed 4/13/2008

Word Count: 2,430 _____________________ Mal licked his dry, cracked lips. His throat was also parched making swallowing difficult. He was grateful, in a way, for the dehydration. It meant he wasn't sweating anymore, which meant there was no more sweat to roll down and aggravate his raw back. He had no idea how long it had been since he'd had any food or water, or how much longer it would be before he was given any. Reginald was still playing his hot/cold game. Seeing as how he'd been roasting for a while, he was sure it was only a matter of a few minutes before the temperature would drop again.

Sure enough, some time later, Mal could feel the temperature dropping. At first, it was a relief. The cool air helped to sooth his sore back and the burns. Soon, though, it became so cold he started shivering again, causing his already raw wrists to rub against the metal of his restraints. He was pretty sure there wasn't any skin left on 'em, least ways there wouldn't be by the time Reginald was done with him. His ankles, covered by his pant legs, were fair just a might bit better. His teeth began to chatter so hard, he was certain they'd be breaking anytime now.

After what seemed like an eternity, Reginald and his goons returned. He waited for the temperature to start to get back to normal again, but it remained frigid. He braced himself for what he was sure would be coming next, but the freezing cold water didn't come. After a few minutes he looked up. Reginald was standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at him with eyes that held a level of burning hatred and loathing Mal had never seen before. He shivered in spite of himself. It was somewhat frightening to know it was all directed at him, for something that wasn't really his fault.

Well, not entirely anyway.

Reginald continued to stare at Mal silently. The intensity of his glare sent shivers up and down Mal's spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Mal refused to look away. No way in hell was he going to let that _BUN tyen-shung duh ee-DWAY-RO_ break him. After several more minutes, Reginald turned and walked towards the rack with his 'toys'.

He stood in front of it for several more minutes. Mal knew he was just screwing with his mind. Making him think about what device he'll choose. Letting him dwell on the intense pain Reginald will use the chosen device to inflict upon him. Mal was sure he knew which one his tormentor would choose.

After several more minutes, Reginald picked something up and turned back around. Sure enough, it was the cattle prod. Mal sighed in resignation. He supposed it was better than the whip. At least the pain from the burns eased after a spell. The pain caused by the lashes from the whipping was persistent.

Reginald remained silent as he approached the focus of his malice. He held the prod up, taping the business end against his open palm several times. The he touched the prod to Mal's chest. Mal flinched slightly in anticipation of pain, but it didn't come. The bastard hadn't turned it on yet! He did it again and again, grinning every time Mal reacted, no matter how slight the reaction.

Mal cursed himself for flinching, for giving Reggie the satisfaction of knowing that his stupid mind games were having an affect on him. He really, _really_ wanted to wipe that ruttin' smile off his face. He just wished Reggie would hurry up and get started for real, just get on with and get it over with. Not that he particularly liked being tortured; he just hated having his mind screwed with more than he hated physical pain.

Without warning, Reginald hit the 'on' button and touched the prod to Mal's chest. Mal reflexively tried to back away, but couldn't move more than an inch or so. Reginald held the prod in place for several seconds before pulling it away. Mal gasped. He glared at his torturer. He opened his mouth to make a smart-ass remark, but it died on his lips and was replaced by a scream as Reginald touched the prod to the same spot on Mal's chest. He repeated the process several more times, touching the same spot each time.

*Well now, that's gonna leave a permanent mark,* Mal thought as Reginald stopped again and his brain had actually registered that the pain had stopped. He waited for the inevitable touch of the prod again, but it didn't fall. It was a good thing Reggie didn't want to question him 'cause his throat was raw from screaming. He opened his eye again and glared at his captor.

Mal kept himself from flinching as Reggie raised his hand, but no blow fell. Instead, Reggie gestured to one of his men, both of whom had remained behind Mal and out of his site. He took some satisfaction in noticing the tall, dark haired man's face. His spilt lip puffy and he had a dark bruise on his chin. He walked over to the wall and grabbed the hose. Reginald took a few steps back.

What with being tortured and all, Mal had forgotten how cold it was in the room, but now that he wasn't be electrocuted any more, he remembered just how cold it was. And it was about to get colder. While the dark haired man held the hose and aimed it at Mal, the shorter man turned the water on. While the freezing cold water to help to soothe his sore back and the burn from his recent encounter with the cattle prod, that's about the only good to come of it.

The water continued to flow over him for several minutes. The dark haired man took great pleasure in his assigned ask. He grinned as he moved the hose slightly and the water hit Mal's groin.

"You stink, Reynolds," he said as he moved around behind Mal sprayed his backside.

The force of the water directly on his back made him gasp in pain. He angled the hose down and continued to spray until he reached Mal's feet. Then he moved back in front of Mal and laughed as he turned the hose up so the spray hit Mal directly in the face. He wound up with a mouth full of water before he realized what was happening, the force of it causing him to choke. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to do the same with his mouth, but the water kept getting in.

Suddenly, the water was gone. Mal gasped for breath. When his breathing finally returned to normal, he opened his eyes again. The hose had been replaced and, once again, the only one he could see was Reggie. Who still had the cattle prod in his hand.

Reginald stepped forward again. The nasty gleam in his eye told Mal he was enjoying this way too much and would continue to do so until he got bored with it or Mal died. At that point, Mal didn't particularly care why it stopped just so long as it all stopped. Reginald touched the cattle prod to the same spot on his chest yet again.

Mal was surprised that it didn't really hurt. *Then again, it's hard to feel anything when you're nerve endings are frozen.* He spasmed uncontrollably as Reginald continued to use the prod to electrocute him twice more. Even after Reginald stopped, the spasms continued.

As Mal's spasms finally slowed then stopped, Reginald spoke, "It's your fault I'm stuck here at this detention center, still a Major, instead of being promoted and given command of a starship as I should haven been." He turned and went back to the torture rack, replaced the cattle prod. Then he picked up something else. When he turned, object in hand, Mal cringed. It was the wide blade with the hook-like tip.

* Oh, _juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean jan_. . . .*

Reginald walked slowly towards Mal. He stopped when he was less than a foot from his prisoner. He held the blade up, admiring it. Mal tensed, waiting to feel the bite of the blade in to his skin. A knock on the door caused Reginald to lower the blade and curse under his breath. He made a waving motion with his hand and one of the other men opened the door.

A young woman in uniform walked briskly into the room, stopping beside Reginald. She glanced at Mal, but no remark to or about him.

"Sir, new orders just came in over the cortex. An agreement has been reached with the Independents. All prisoners are to be release immediately. You will be contacted at a later time and given the location of your new duty station."

Mal released the breath he'd been holding and sagged against his restraints. It was over. It was finally all over.

Reginald spoke with barely contained anger. "Thank you, Corporal. Dismissed."

The young woman gave a smart solute then turned sharply and left the room.

Mal watched as Reginald stared at the blade, turned it in his hands a few times. For a terrifying moment, he though Reginald was going to use it on him anyway. Thankfully, after staring at it for another minute or so, he replaced it on the rack.

Reginald gestured towards Mal. "Release him. Put him back with the others." That said, he stormed out of the cell.

Each guard released an ankle from the manacles first then opened the ones securing his wrists. They caught him as he crumpled, his legs unable to hold his weight. He hung limply between them. His arms and shoulders were so numb he couldn't feel the guard's rough grasp on them. They each slung one of Mal's arms over their shoulder and dragged him out of the torture room and back the cell where his men were being held. He tried to move his feet as much as possible to avoid dragging them on the ground

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Zoë was still seething. Due to her head still hurting from the rifle butt she'd been hit with a few hours before, she couldn't pace, which just pissed her off more. She hated being so still. She especially hated that they had murdered that boy right before her eyes and she hadn't been able to do a damn thing to stop it.

Mal would have, she knew. He would've realized what they were up to and stopped 'em.

She had no idea what those _go tsao de_ son of-a-bitches were doing to Mal, which just made everything that much worse. He hadn't screamed in a while and she wasn't rightly sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.

She reached up and touched her cheek then winced. The medic had patched her up while she was unconscious and she felt around the edges of the bandage. The stitches made the skin on her cheek feel tight.

The low clomping sound of boots on cement caught her attention. It was getting louder. Quickly as her aching head would let her, Zoë got to her feet and walked over to the cell door. She grabbed the bars and tried to look down the hall. After a minute, she saw two guards coming towards the cell with a bare-chested and bare-footed, brown haired man hanging limply between them. She knew who it had to be. She was relieved that he was finally being brought back, but was worried that he wasn't moving. He couldn't be dead. They surely wouldn't bother bringing a dead man back to a prison cell.

Zoë let out a string of expletives that would have even made her own foul-mouthed mother want to wash her mouth out with soap. She heard one of the others whisper, "_Lao TYEN yeh_," as the guards dropped Mal unceremoniously onto the cell floor.

The guards said nothing as they backed out of the cell and locked the door. As soon as they were out, Zoë dropped down to Mal's side. "Son of-a-bitch", she muttered as she saw the bruises and welts on Mal's back. Mercifully, only a few were open wounds and they didn't seem to be deep. There was very little blood on his back. She reached out and touched his shoulder and was shocked. He was ice cold to the touch.

Gently, she rolled him onto his back. Her rage grew exponentially. He had a thin gash by the hairline over his right temple. His left cheek was bruised and his eye was black and blue. The right side of his face seemed to have faired better. Seeing no apparent injuries to his neck, she looked at his chest. He had what looked like several small electrical burns on his chest and abdomen. There was one really bad burn on the left side of his chest, about two inches below his shoulder. There didn't seem to be much bruising, but she knew that could be because of how cold he was. She gently felt his ribs and sighed in relief that there was no give in them. Nothing was broken. She quickly did the same to his arms and legs. No breaks there either, as far as she could tell anyway.

Zoë removed her tattered coat and folded it up to use as a pillow. Then she carefully raised Mal's head and positioned the coat under it. "He's freezing," she said as she removed her shirt and draped it over her friend's body. Experience and training had taught her that body heat was the best way to warm him up, so she laid down next to Mal and positioned herself close to him, gasping a little as his cold skin made contact with his.

Moving quickly and saying nothing about the corporal's nakedness, those who still had jackets took them off and put them over Mal and Zoë. Those who didn't have jackets removed their shirts. One of them followed Zoë's suit and folded his jacket like a pillow and gave it to the corporal. She gave him a grateful smile. She prayed that his injuries were minor and that he wouldn't catch pneumonia, if he hadn't already.

Knowing there was nothing more they could do for Mal, Zoë let her eyes shut and allowed herself to drift off into a restless sleep.

TBC

BUN tyen-shung duh ee-DWAY-RO = Stupid inbred stack of meat

juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean jan... = this is a happy development...

go tsao de = dog humping

Lao TYEN yeh = Jesus