* * * God, I pray also for our first mate, Zoe, and pilot Wash. I praise you for them individually and as a couple. I thank you for endowing Zoe with the greatest of all virtues, Loyalty, as well as courage and strength. And Wash, I thank you for giving him a sense of humor, a child-like outlook. They are a blessing to the ship, the backbone and the funnybone, the strength and the heart. Lord, please bless them, keep Zoe out of harms way, keep Wash’s skills quick and sure. But most of all Lord, I pray, bless their marriage. Let it be an inspiration to all who look upon it in this time of trial and uncertainty. Love, no matter it’s form, glorifies you, the Lord of Love, so I praise you for their love, and I pray their love may increase, as your love increases towards your bride, the church. * * * “She’s not a racer, but she’s dependable,” Mal said. “An’ she ain’t never failed to do a job. Now, to Flagstone would take about two weeks, give or take a day.” “Why give or take?” Michele “Puffer” Newvack said, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. “Why not exactly?” “I just ain’t sure ‘bout asteroids, other ships, that sort of thing. No reason to suspect we’d get there in any more’in Fourteen days.” Mal said, realizing that he’d never seen a man with more yellowed teeth. “That a problem?” “No,” Newvack said, shaking his head. “Seems reasonable. Now, you know, tobacco is outlawed on Flagstone.” He let out a long puff of curling white smoke. “Say it’s bad for the health.” “Do they?” Mal said, forcing himself not to cough. “Yeah, that won’t be a problem, will it?” “Why should it be?” “Jus’ if you were to get boarded by customs at Flagstone you might have a hard time explaining yourself.” “For starters,” Mal said very clearly, “There ain’t no call to insult my crew by insinuating we might get caught with our proverbial pants down by some customs officers. We’ve had valuable cargo before an’ been boarded by an official Alliance raiding party in cold space. They looked everywhere for it, even under the gorramn placemats on the dining room table, but they didn’t find the goods.” “You dump ‘em?” “Now what good would that’a done me? Serenity’s got her tricks and so do I. If we get boarded, they won’t find a thing an I can guarantee you your cargo’ll be safe as houses.” “If you don’t mind my asking,” Newvack said. “What kind a cargo where you carrying?” “You can ask all you want, I’m afraid I can’t tell you. Suffice to say it was more dangerous and more valuable than a few smokes and a little chew,” Mal said, his tone making it clear that the topic was closed. “How much would you charge to run my cargo to Flagstone?” Mal pretend to consider the variables, the distance, the risk, the wear and tear on the ship, the manpower required. “I’d say One ten.” “One ten?” Newvack laughed. “You’re joking.” “What price were you thinking?” “I couldn’t see paying more than eighty.” “Eighty?” Mal asked, glancing around the room and letting out a loud laugh. “You could maybe, maybe find a ship to carry that Cargo for eighty. ‘Course, It’ll take a month to get there, with at least two stops at a fueling station along the way.” “Eighty Five.” “Couldn’t do it for less than a hundred, not a chance.” “Ninety,” “I said a hundred and I mean a hundred, I got a crew needs feedin’.” “Are you trying to tell me you’re a family man, Captain?” “I’m trying to tell you that a hundred’s a steal. You won’t get a better offer.” There was a pause as the yellow toothed tobacco trader examined the Captain. This was the most important part of the negotiations. Mal knew that if he blinked, if he flinched, if he demonstrated anything less than total control he would be haggled down to ninety at best. Granted, Serenity could do the trip for ninety, but Kaylee would have to make do without a power converter or Zoe and Wash would have to accept another IOU for their monthly wages. Not that they’d mind, but Mal just didn’t feel right doing that to them. Mal starred at Puffs unflinchingly. “Alright,” Newvack finally said. “Hundred. Fifty now, fifty later.” “Sounds fair,” Mal said, reaching over the table to shake the man’s yellow tipped hands. “How soon can we load it?” * * * “Will’e live?” Izard asked, his voice full of genuine concern. They were standing outside of Old Cash’s room waiting. Simon was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, praying that the pounding headache would eventually stop pounding. He had considered taking some dope, but thought better of it. He needed to be as alert as possible in case there was some sudden complication to the surgery or the psychopaths running the Betty-Lou decided to kill him; both of which seemed extremely likely. He considered pulling the transmitter out of his pocket and signaling the Captain, saying he was ready to go home. But Old Cash wasn’t out of the woods yet, Simon felt duty bound to stay until he was, one way or the other. “I don’t know,” Simon said, leaning against the wall and burying his face in his hands. “I, I stopped the hemorrhaging but . . . it just . . . he should be all right, but then, he shouldn’t be as badly off as he is.” “Wha’re you implying?” Kurt demanded. Simon blinked a few times, looked at Kurt and then shook his head. “I wouldn’t imply,” he said, closing his eyes. “Then,” Kurt said, pulling a revolver out of a hip holster. “What were you sayin?” “Mr. Cash’s symptoms don’t match his injuries,” Simon said. “If they did I’d be willing to say that he’d pull through, the damage isn’t that bad. But, since they don’t, I can’t say.” “Which way are you leanin’?” Izard asked. “Honestly,” Simon said, taking a deep breath. “Unless I can find the reason for these symptoms, I don’t think . . .” Kurt cocked his gun. Simon’s slower-than-par brain finally registered the firearm. He opened his eyes to find the barrel pointing directly at him. For a moment he looked at it, puzzled, and then glanced up at Kurt. “If you kill me he doesn’t have a chance.” “If he don’t have a chance, I sees no reason not ta kill ya.” “Are you insane?” Simon asked, more curious than upset. “Because that doesn’t seem to make . . .” “I don’ take kindly to insults,” “I feel like I just had this conversation,” Simon muttered, resting his pulsing head in his hand. “Kurt, put the gun away,” Izard ordered. “Can’t you see the doctor is already fei chang jin zang?” “It sounds to me like he’s got some damn insidious notions.” “It sounds to me like he’s gotten hit on the head once too often by you.” “Could you argue more quietly?” Simon asked, pressing on his eyes in hopes of reliving the ever-worsening pounding in his head. If either Izard or Kurt heard him, they didn’t pay any attention. Vio, at least, had the decency to not say a word. Simon pulled his knees up to his chest, folded his arms over them, and buried his head, hoping against hope that the torrent around him would either die down or blow somewhere else. And, for a heartbeat, it seemed to. There was a bang, like a door opening, and suddenly the two bickering bodyguards were silent. Not even a second had elapsed and Simon found himself being luged viciously to his feet by Li’ll Cash. “My father’s dead you liu man er bai wu meng gu dai fu!” “Dead?” Simon asked breathlessly, terror quickly overpowering the pounding in his head. “You said you’d save him,” Li’ll Cash spat. “Let go,” Simon muttered, struggling out of Li’ll Cash’s grip and pushing himself into Old Cash’s bedroom. There, laid out on the bed, was Old Cash. Simon rushed to the body and took the pulse. There was nothing. For a moment Simon toyed with the idea of trying to resuscitate him, but that was foolish. The stress on the chest would undoubtedly re-open the wound to the diaphragm and cause internal bleeding while whatever unknown agent was causing the high fever and the jaundice would not have left the body. Simon took a deep breath, glanced at a clock on the wall, and out of habit announced; “Time of death fifteen forty eight.” He reached up to close Old Cash’s eyes when he noticed something. The old man’s nose was broken. It wasn’t very obvious because it had happened mere seconds before death, there was no bruising to speak of and no blood. But the crookedness was unmistakable. Simon licked his lips and casually glanced around the room. There was a large pillow with a satin case lying conspicuously on the floor near the bed. Simon didn’t know where it came from, but he was sure it hadn’t been there before. Suddenly the whole situation, the unexplainable symptoms, the inadequate supplies and the illogical abuse made perfect sense. “Dah Bien,” he muttered. * * * Sweet Jesus, I pray now for Jayne. . . . Jayne, where to begin? I thank you, Lord, for him. He’s saved my life many times. But still, Lord, he closes himself off, he auctions himself off, he pushes away everyone, especially those who would love him. Lord, I do not know what to pray for, so I will simply ask that you move in his life, however you will. Your will be done. * * * Mal and ‘Puffs’ were enjoying a leisurely cigar to celebrate their deal. They were good cigars, Mal had to admit, and good cigars were damn hard to come by. If he’d know he’d get a cigar out of the deal, he might have been willing to settle for ninety. “I like cigar’s,” Newvack said slowly, savoring the smoke that came out with his breath. “Because they are masculine. A woman can smoke a ciggie, but not a cigar, that’s a gentleman’s pleasure.” Mal, who had not treatises on any tobacco product, just sucked in another lungful and enjoyed the full, bitter, musty taste. “Hey, you know how to blow smoke rings?” he asked Puffs gamely. “I had’a man under me in the war, Grunt named Tinner. He’d always blow em ta impress the girls. Always meant to ask him how he did it.” “It’s all in the tongue,” Puffs said, demonstrating. “Really, you, ah, you curl it?” Mal said, trying his luck. The smoke exited his mouth in an unimpressive cloud. “The idea is to create the ring in your mouth and then let it float out.” “Ring in your mouth?” Mal said. He inhaled again and tried to create a ring of smoke with his tongue in the middle. He opened his mouth and, again, an unimpressive cloud floated out. “It’s not an easy trick to learn.” “Yeah,” Mal coughed. The smoke had been in his mouth too long. He coughed some more. “Didn’t you know that smoking is bad for your health,” Inara’s ever-pleasant voice chimed over the Captain’s shoulder. Mal, through his coughing, saw Newvack’s eyes go wide as he beheld the beautiful Companion. “Hey Inara,” Mal said, wiping the tears from his eyes and wishing there was a pitcher of water near by. “I thought you were going shopping.” “We are shopping,” Inara said, walking around the table so she could face Mal. “Kaylee’s buying River some boots.” “Oh, about that, I got some money for . . .” he reached into his pockets to pull out a few of the bills he’d received from Old Cash’s men. “I don’t want your money, Captain.” “It's not mine, it’s the doc’s, he . . .” “Where is the Doctor?” Mal leaned forward, annoyed. “What does it matter?” “River needs him,” Inara said. “She must not need him too much if she’s buying shoes.” “I don’t have time for this. Where is Simon?” Mal took a deep breath, “I lent him out.” “You lent him out?!” Inara said, enunciating every word with cold precession. “He is not a shuttle; you can’t just lend him out.” “He could’a said no if he wanted.” “Did he know that?” “As a matter of fact he did,” Mal snapped. “What kind of lok chat do you take me for?” “Oh, Mal, you’re your own special kind.” “Hey,” Mal said, not faining his hurt. “These men come up to me, say ‘our captain’s dieing you think we could use your doctor?’ I said ‘Yes.’” He took another puff of his cigar. “I’s the only decent thing to do. I’m sure the kid’s fine.” “And River’s sure he’s not,” Inara clipped. “The least you could do is come and tell her what you did.” “Fine,” Mal sighed. He took one last drag on his cigar before putting it in the ashtray. “It was a pleasure doin’ business. Hope to again,” he said to Newvack. “Crew emergency, you understand.” “I understand perfectly, Catptain Reynolds,” Newvack said, standing to shake Mal’s hand again. “I couldn’t say no to her either.” * * * “What killed him?” Li’ll Cash asked. “His treacherous son,” Simon answered, slipping his hand into pocket and feeling for the transmitter. Kurt then quickly demonstrated to the young doctor that there was no such thing as a painless truth by punching the boy in the gut. Simon gasped and fell to his knees, his hand flew out of his pocket as he tried to catch himself and the transmitter slid across the floor. Simon watched it with a sinking sense of terror. “Capi’n Reynolds wan’ you to keep in touch?” Kurt asked as the small black box hit his boot. Simon didn’t say anything, he didn’t have the breath to speak. That was probably for the best, because his pathetic ‘please don’t’ would have fallen on ears that thought such pleas aught to be punished with quick blows to the head. Kurt lifted his heavy boot and crushed the small plastic and mettle box. Simon heard a series of cracks which might as well have been his death knoll. He was so distracted by the destruction of the transmitter that he didn’t notice the drama going on directly to his right. “Of course,” Izard said, turning to Li’ll Cash. “You Hong yan bing huai dan. You murdered your Father! Poq Gai!” “No,” Li’ll Cash said calmly as Kurt and Vio aimed their revolvers at Izard. “You did, you baw lan jiao liu man.” There were four bangs, which drew Simon’s horrified attention. He watched, wide eyed, as Izard’s body hit the floor with a sickening thud. The Doctor wanted to do something but, despite all his brilliance and training, the only thing he could think to do was close his eyes and wait for the built that would kill him. It didn’t come. “On your feet, doc,” Li’ll Cash said, as Vio grabbed Simon’s arm and hauled the young man to a standing position. “What?” Simon gasped. “Too honorable to kill a man on his knees?” “I don’t give a damn how you die, Doctor,” Li’ll Cash said. “Jus’ so long as i’s slow an’ painful, like my father’s death.” Simon stared at Li’ll Cash for a second and then shook his head, “Totally psychotic,” he muttered. “Criminally insane.” “Gun dan,” Li’ll Cash, or perhaps just Cash now, spit and Vio hauled the dazed doctor out of the room. * * * River screamed. You could hear it up and down the street. People stopped too look at her, people got out of her way. The girl ran blindly, or so it seemed. Possibly away from the girl who was chasing her, but River had far outdistanced her pursuer. No one was quite daring enough to try and stop the crazed red, yellow and black streak, with the rather important exception of Captain Reynolds. “Sha ya tou,” The captain muttered, extending his arm and scooping her out of her path. “Hey there River, where you flowin’?” Halted, just for a moment, was enough to jar the girl out of her mad panic. She clung to Mal’s arm and collapse onto the ground in sobs. Mal was dragged down with her, so that he was kneeling over her. Inara looked on, very worried. “Hush,” Mal said awkwardly, stroking the girl’s hair because it seemed like the only thing to do. “It’s all right.” “They’re killing him.” River sobbed. “He dieing.” “Your brother ain’t diein’,” Reynolds asserted, pulling himself up and River with him. “An’ I can prove it.” He reached into his pocket. “Mal you don’t know where Simon is,” Inara said. “How could you possibly . . .” “I know exactly were Simon is,” Mal snapped, pulling a little black box out of his pocket. “An’ this here transmitter ‘ill prove that you girl’s are worrin’ over nothin’.” “They stepped on Simon’s,” River said softly. Mal, ignoring the girl, pulled the transmitter up to his mouth and pushed the button. “Doctor, your there? Doc?” The only answer was static. “Doctor?” Mal said, starting to feel a little uncomfortable. “Hen ga tsan, boy, answer!” “I don’t think he’s there Mal,” Inara said, her voice was trembling a little. River, having had enough of this useless small talk, grabbed Mal’s arm and started pulling him in the direction she’d been madly running, towards the docking ring. “Simon is dieing!” she insisted. Mal opened his mouth to argue with her, point out that there was no way to be sure. All they knew was that, for some reason, Simon hadn’t answered. It was possible that the only thing wrong was the doctor couldn’t figure out which button to push to answer, or maybe he was in the middle of surgery or something and couldn’t be bothered. But as he looked at River the girl’s eyes looked back up at him and he could see nothing but clarity and conviction. He couldn’t dismiss her. Mal swallowed hard, trying to get down his pride and better sense. “You know where he is?” River nodded fervently. “Well, then,” Mal muttered, “Lead on.” The girl almost smiled and started running down the street, dragging Malcolm Reynolds behind her. * * * Dear God, I feel especially compelled to pray for young Simon right now. Lord, he is confused, he is frightened, and he is lost; help him see the way. Grant him your wisdom, that he might find a way to help his sister. Grant him your peace, that he may come to terms with the new life he’s found himself in. Grant him strength, that he may never grow hopeless, or give up. Grant him your love, that he might redeem his sister, who is as lost as he is. Lord, bless his hands, which do your work. Heal his heart, which aches and is broken from all he’s lost. Dear God, just take him into your hands and carry him as he goes through his trials. These things can not be faced with only the strength of man, fill him with your spirit so that he can continue doing your work. Please, Lord, keep Simon near to your heart. * * * It is a fact that, if there is a prolonged irritation on one of the body’s senses, an overpowering smell, an irritating itch, a droning noise, the brain, after a certain amount of time, will stop registering that irritation so that it can focus on more pressing matters. Simon, knowing this, kept hoping that he would stop concisely hearing the slow incessant hiss that indicated the Carbon dioxide was being pumped into this room instead of oxygen. But no matter how he tried to distract his mind he still heard the hiss of poison being pumped into the room. Simon considered, very briefly, going up to the metal door that led to the hallway and breathable air and pounding as hard as he could. He was sure, though, that such an endeavor would be nothing but a waist of energy and oxygen. He also toyed with the idea of finding air ducts or crawl spaces or whatever this ship had and sneaking out. But then, for all he knew, crawl spaces and air ducts were mealy fictitious; inventions of pulp novelist to give their heroes a Deus Ex Machina means of escape. As far as he had observed there were no crawl spaces on Serenity and what air ducts there were couldn’t have helped anything larger than a rat escape. The idea of rescue floated across his mind for a second, but then he dismissed it. Captain Reynolds didn’t know he was in trouble. This was Simon’s own fault, practically throwing the transmitter at the brute Kurt, so he couldn’t even really be bitter at Mal. Doctor sat, and struggled with the notion that he was going to die alone of suffocation in some back room of a ship named Betty-Lou and, in all likely-hood, his body would not be buried but rather dropped into cold space. It was horrible to think about, horrible to realize. The hissing continued. Simon tried to take relaxed, even breaths. He was worried about River who was, in a sense, the reason he was in his current situation. He didn’t regret for a second throwing away his life so that she could have one. But he couldn’t help but feel a little cheated. He’d imagined what would happen when she woke up and saw him, her savior, standing there. He’d imagined she’d run to him and hug him and cry on his shoulder. He imagined that she’d talk the way she used to talk, her mind going so fast that her words meshed together. He thought she’d tell him horror stories about experimental drug tracks and sleep depravation and shock therapy. He thought she’d tell him everything and then she’d be the girl he remembered and everything would be all right. He’d have his River back. But it had become abundantly clear to Simon that his River, the brilliant, articulate, joyful, little girl he’d grown up with, was gone forever. He tried very hard not to cry because that took oxygen. His steady breaths were becoming shallower as his lungs began to burn. The hissing was getting louder. At least, Simon reasoned, River would be all right. Not well off, but alive and free and with people who would take care of her. He had no doubt that, in his absence, the crew of Serenity would adopt River as their own. He didn’t trust the majority of those people, but he knew Shepherd Book would insist on caring for the girl who was, in all practicality, an orphan. Kaylee would help too, she had such a large heart, she’d take in anything that was week and forlorn. And then Captain Reynolds would probably die protecting River, not because he had a particularly charitable or noble heart, Simon thought, but because he hated the Alliance so much. He’d spite them any way he could. The hissing was so loud it blocked out almost all other thought. Simon’s breath came in short, shallow gasps. Darkness was spreading inward from the edges of his vision. At least River would be all right. * * * “I’ve come ta collect what’s mine,” Captain Reynolds said, leveling his gun at Kurt. “Now if you wanna find yerself fulla led, you can stand there an’ stonewall me. But if yer smart, you’ll step aside.” “You said that Doct’r was big city. Old Cash is dead, So’s we gonna kill tha’ boy. Fair’s fair.” “You can’t kill him,” Mal said coldly. “He’s my doctor.” “It’s a shade to late fer that,” Kurt said, with a sickening laugh. “He’s already dead.” “He’s not,” River softly but with unquestionable authority. “Where,” Mal said, his voice hard and sharp with anger, “Is my doctor?” “’Spect that depends on whether or no he said his prayers,” Kurt taunted. “He’s not dead!” River screeched. “I believe this girl,” Mal said. “So’s I’m gonna ask one more time polite. Where is Simon Tam?” “Past your help,” Kurt said, once more with a self-satisfied smile. “I been more than fair,” Mal said, lowering his gun and firing blowing out Kurt’s left knee. The man howled with pain as he collapsed to the ground. The man guarding the entrance to the Betty-Lou, who’d summoned Kurt in the first place, reached for his gun. Mal, never taking his sites of Kurt who was writhing in pain, said, “I wouldn’t do that son. You got no loyalty to this ship or this man. If you run off now, ain’t nothin’ no one could do ‘bout it.” The man didn’t bolt off into the space station, like Mal had half expected him to. But he didn’t draw his gun either. He just watched. “Now,” Captain Reynolds said, pointing his gun more or less at Kurt’s head, “I’m sick of askin’ Tell me where to find my Doctor or by all that is dear to me I will end your life.” “I tell you he’s dead,” Kurt said, between gritted teeth. “Li’ll Cash said to gas ‘im, so we gased ‘im.” “Where?” Mal said, cocking his gun. “There’s not time,” River whimpered, pushing her way past Mal, jumping over Kurt and running into the clean, well lit hallways of the Betty-Lou. Mal quickly uncocked his gun, “Your damn lucky, Kurt.” He muttered as he stood up. “You kill that girls brother, and she saves your life.” * * * Over the ever-present hissing Simon heard a bang, like a gunshot, and then another bang, like a body hitting mettle, then a clink, like a latch opening. Then a series of coughs as carbon dioxide assaulted the lungs of his saviors, as well as those who would murder him. Simon felt like he should react to those sounds but the very notion of moving seemed painful. He did, however, watch with some interest as a blur of red, yellow and black, came running up to him. Soon a face which he assumed to be his mother’s was floating in front of him, “Simon,” the beautiful woman said, her long brown hair flowing around him like water from a waterfall, her soft hand’s petting his face. She coughed, which was an odd thing for the angelic image of his mother to do, but Simon didn’t mind. He smiled up at her weakly and tried to say something, but he didn’t have the breath. “You’re ok,” the beautiful face said between coughs and gasps. “You can stop dying.” Then the face was ripped away and a voice that was familiar but Simon couldn’t place yelled, “There’s not air in here, get out to the hall.” The voice coughed violently. “I’ll get your brother, now get!” Simon wanted to protest. He’d liked that face. He’d loved that face. If he was going to die, he wanted to at least die with that face beside him. But the blur of yellow and red scampered into the hall, where it collapsed, coughing, and Simon felt the deck beneath him shift and the upside down image of Captain Reynolds suddenly appeared hovering over him. The Captain seemed to be coughing and swearing simultaneously so that Simon couldn’t understand anything he was saying. But whatever the captain had seemed to be catching, because Simon started coughing and gasping, and coughing again. Very weakly at first, but as the doctor was dragged out of the room, tossed on the ground next to the bundle of red and yellow, his coughs and gasps became more violent as his lungs desperately tried to expel the carbon dioxide that had been accumulating and take in any Oxygen available. Through the violent respiratory fits Simon realized that the red/yellow blur was River. He tried to say her name, tried to reach out to her, but he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move. All he could do was cough and gasp. Yet, as if she’d read his mind, she, threw her on bought of coughs, crawled over to him. “You won’t die now,” She said, coughing as she lifted her brother to his knees. “You’re saved.” * * * And, Lord, I pray for River. She, of all of us, is most desperately in need of your hand, and yet, I have the feeling that she is the closest to you. I pray Lord, for healing, for comfort, for a silencing of the demons that haunt her eyes. God, she is trapped inside herself, only through your Grace could she be free. Please, God, grant her freedom, and if not freedom, than at least peace. Lord, I beg you, don’t let the child suffer any more than she already has. Take her in your arms, as you have so many children before her, and wrap her in your healing love. * * * “Come on, Come on,” Mal urged as he, with River’s help, hauled the doctor to his feet. Simon looked bad, really bad, bad enough for Mal to feel guilty. There was a nasty black bruise on the boys head, accented by a dark red, almost black mess that looked like a cut that wasn’t going to heal up any time soon. His skin was grayish as he gasped for breath and he leaned heavily on River as they stumbled down the hall and off the ship. And they didn’t have time to coddle the doctor back into good heath. Kurt and Vio may have been dealt with in somewhat of a final manner, but Mal knew that there was still Li’ll Cash to deal with, and that would be no easy task. The longer they dallied in the belly of the Betty-Lou, the more Mal came to dread it. “River, you take the lead,” Mal ordered. “See if you can get us outta here quick as you got us in.” “Captain,” Simon gasped, as River slipped herself out from under her brother, leaving Mal to drag the weak doctor along. “River really . . .” “Be quiet Doctor,” Mal said sharply but kindly. “You ain’t got enough breath in you to walk, don’t be slowin’ us down by tryin’ to speak. Yer sister was clever enough to find her way to you; she’ll be clever enough to find our way out.” Simon didn’t answer, which was exactly what Mal hoped would happen. They wound their way through the clean maze of hallways for about five minuets. Mal would have sworn it only took a few seconds to run to the room where Simon had been held. But he’d been running as fast as he could to keep up with the crazed River then, and now he was dragging her half dead brother, it seemed reasonable that it’d take more time. But not this much more time. “Hey, River, y’lost?” Mal asked, hopping against hope the answer was no. River turned around for just a second, placing her finger to her lips. “He sees and hears,” she said very softly, before continuing to creep forward. They walked about another twenty paces, making too seemingly random turns before River froze. “Psss,” Mal Hissed. “We gotta keep moving.” “Checkmate,” River muttered. That’s when Mal heard the click of a gun. “Wan ba dan,” he muttered, shaking his head bitterly as the barrel of a gun appeared from right around the next corner. “You steelin’ my doctor?” Li’ll Cash asked, emerging from the shadows. Mal took a second to think very carefully about how he wanted to handle this. The answer was clear: he didn’t want to handle this, not at all. This was a losing prospect. Still, better to go down fighting. He leaned Simon against the wall, freeing up his gun hand in case he’d need it, but of course, he was the only one with a gun, Li’ll Cash would down him first, then get to executing the helpless Tams. “He’s my doctor,” Mal asserted. “You been leadin’ me on a merry chase,” Li’ll Cash said with the mock admiration. Mal always wondered why some people felt like they had to justify themselves before they murdered you. Did these men have such low self-esteem that they had to talk themselves into doing everything, or were they really so self deluded that they could convince themselves that they were killing for a reason? It was just stupid, Mal thought. If you were going to kill a man, kill him quick and kill him clean. Pretension never did anybody any good. “This girl knows my ship ‘bout well as I do. I’m not even going to ask how she learned it.” “Good,” Mal said casually, reaching out carefully for River, who was staring at Li’ll Cash with wide-eyed terror. If they lived thru this, which was by no means a guarantee, Mal would have to figure out a way to acclimate River to fire arms. A girl who is paralyzed with fear at the vary sight of a gun was the description of Liability. He managed to grab the girls shoulder and tug her toward himself and Simon. “Tha’s right,” Li’ll Cash muttered. “Pretty thing like that, I’d keep’er close too. Don’t spose’ll do me much good ta ask ya her name.” “Don’t spose it would,” Mal said, passing the girl to the Doctor, who was now standing, more or less, under his own power. He wrapped his arms around his sister protectively as he stared defiantly at the man who’d tried to murder him. “So,” Li’ll Cash said, smiling wickedly. “’S this the Sister Kurt told me ‘bout, th’ one he killed for?” “Don’t see why you need know who she is,” Mal said, edging his way between Li’ll Cash and the siblings. “Your just gonna kill us all in a minuet or so.” “Oh, Reynolds, you got less time’n that,” Li’ll Cash said with a chuckle. “But that girl’s no dummy, she don’t talk much, and she’s real pretty n’ young. She might just be the perfect woman. The kinda woman a man might kill for.” That’s when River screamed. Simon had claimed that River was naturally brilliant at every task she put her mind to. Screaming, apparently, was no exception. Her shriek was so loud, so sudden, and at such a high pitch that, for a second, Mal mistook it for a banshee wail that had stopped his heart. But that was only until his heart continued to beat, and then he saw his opportunity. Li’ll Cash was also stunned by the girls blood curdling scream, but he wouldn’t be forever. Barely taking the time to aim, Mal pulled the gun out of his holster and shot. He missed, by about two feet. Li’ll Cash, reacting to the shot instinctively fired. But River’s screech had thrown him off his game. The bullet ricocheted harmlessly to Mal’s right. Mal fired again, this time his aim was dead on. Li’ll Cash fell lifeless on the ground. “RIVER!" Mal yelled as loud as he could, in a fruitless attempt to overpower River’s screech, as he walked to the dead body, kicking it for good measure. "I’S OVER, YOU CAN . . ." the girl suddenly stopped yelling, the captain didn’t. "STOP!" His last word echoed off the smooth corridors of the Betty-Lou and gave Mal the shivers. This felt for the world like a ghost ship, and with the body of the recently diseased captain’s son lying in front of him, Mal couldn’t imagine the ghosts would be friendly. “Come on kid’s we gotta move,” he said, turning towards the pair, hoping to find them ready to move. Instead he saw Simon lying on the ground, unconscious, and River looking down on him all weepy. “Ow lun dan jhew hai,” Mal muttered. “What now?” River looked up, her large eyes letting out a wash of tears. “I was too loud,” she said, her voice trembling. “I hurt his head.” Mal sighed. It was very hard to be properly angry at a girl who so obviously was scared half to death. “’s all right,” Mal muttered, walking over to Simon’s body and slinging it over his shoulder. “You’re brother’s got a thick a head as anybody. You lead us out’a here and I promise you he’ll be fine. “Simon,” River muttered, tears still streaming down her face. She was hugging herself tightly, staring at the Captain, looking helpless, like she didn’t know what to do or how to act without being secured in the knowledge that Simon was there to take care of her. “River,” Mal said very firmly. “You gotta get us outta here now. We can’t do nothin’ for Simon less we get off this gorramn boat.” The girl stared at him, blinked, then turned and started walking very rapidly down one of the halls. Mal took a deep breath, a relatively hard task with the unconscious Simon slung over his shoulder, and followed. * * * Finally, dear Lord, I pray for Serenity herself. I pray that you can use the ship, use the crew to your greater good. I pray that you can use me, Lord. That I may be a shine your light as the darkness presses down on the small ship. Protect us from those who would do us harm, evil in its myriad forms. Set before us righteous tasks and give us the strength to complete them. Guide us and protect us Lord, this I pray, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen * * * Simon heard humming. It was distant, soft, pleasant. He kept listening. It seemed to be getting closer. Slowly Simon opened his eyes and saw pink. Simon blinked a few times, and realized that he was in a bed with a canopy over it. Now that he knew where he was he closed his eyes again and enjoyed the humming. After another minuet it accrued to Simon that he didn’t know who was humming, and he probably should. Also, Simon couldn’t think of the last time he’s seen a Canopied bed, not to mention lain on one. There certainly wasn’t one on Serenity. “Wh . . .” he groaned as he opened his eyes and tried to push himself up onto his elbows. “Where am I?” he asked the hummer. “You’re with Honey,” a low seductive voice said from somewhere in front of him. Simon lifted his head and had to close his eyes as dizziness washed over him. When he opened them again he saw a busty Asian woman sitting on the bed with a shallow bowl in her lap. She was smiling at him in a knowing way as she rang execs water out of a rag. “Who?” Simon asked. “Honey,” the woman said, leaning forward and placing the cool wet cloth on his forehead. “I think you might wanna lie back down there sweetheart.” “How did I get here?” Simon asked, “Where’s River?” “You’re on Harrper’s Point, Sweetie,” Honey said, “There ain’t no river here.” Simon didn’t want to explain. He put his hand to his head, taking the cloth away from Honey. “Thank you,” he said, glancing at her, “For, ah, everything. But, how, how did I get here?” “Poor baby, so confused,” Honey said, with a pouty expression as she put the bowl of water back on the floor. Simon inched very slightly away from the volupsous Honey. “Your captain brought you in,” Honey said, clearly understanding that Simon was not in the mood to play any of her games. “You were unconscious.” “And where is Captain Reynolds?” “Do it matter?” “Yes, I think it does,” Simon insisted. Honey sighed; she’d obviously had different ideas about what was going to happen when the young man woke up. “He’s about I’m sure.” “I need to find him,” Simon said trying to push himself out of the bed. Unfortunately, his sense of equilibrium hadn’t quite returned. His hand slipped as his head spun and he nearly tumbled out of the bed, if Honey, with her open arms and her large chest hadn’t been there to catch him, he most certainly would have. “Easy now, Baby,” she cooed. “Best take it slow.” Simon tried to push himself up, away from the woman but he was still jittery and weak, and she was not letting him go easily. This was the most awkward, embarrassing situation Simon had ever found himself in. “Please, could you . . .” he said, more or less into Honey’s breast, as he tried to pull himself away. “Well, well, well,” the cool voice of Captain Reynolds said from somewhere behind Simon. With sudden and amazing clarity, Simon pushed himself away from Honey and turned to see Mal walking into the room with a brown package in his hand and very amused expression on his face. “You’re quite the player boy, not twenty minuets ago you were out cold. And here I come back and find you in Sweet Honey’s arms.” “I slipped,” Simon tried to explain. The excuse sounded very week, even to him. “Mind leavin’ us alone for a minuet Hon?” Mal asked the voluptuous woman. “Boy an’ me got some talkin’ to do.” The woman sighed, “’Cores sir,” she said, pushing herself off the bed. She walked around the bed, eyeing Mal like a vulture sussing up a carcass, before leaving, slamming the door behind her. “They told me the woman has very gentle hands,” Mal said more-or-less to Simon as he slouched down in a plush chair across from the bed where the doctor was still sitting, somewhat dazed. “I s’pose it takes more ‘n that to make a decent nursemaid.” Mal looked at Simon, expecting an answer. The boy didn’t really have one, “I suppose so,” he offered weakly. The Captain smiled warmly, regardless. “How you feelin’?” “A little shaky,” Simon admitted. “None the better for waking up in the arms of a prostitute.” “Yeah, well, this station don’t have a clinic and there are precious few places here were a fella can get a clean bed ta rest in for an hour or so. Sides, Madam Kelly runs a full service operation.” Mal tossed a parcel wrapped in brown paper onto Simon’s bed. “Took the liberty of haven’ your shirt and vest washed. They were pretty soaked in blood, figured you’d want em nice and white fer dinner.” “Thank you, Sir,” Simon said, untying the packing string the cloths were wrapped in and pulling out the clean garments. He was truly amazed by the Captains forethought and consideration. “And, ah, here,” Mal said, getting up from the chair and handing Simon about a dozen paper bills. “What are these for?” Simon asked, casually feeling the money to make sure it wasn’t counterfeit. “I’s your wage, what Li’ll Cash paid. Well, minus about five platinum fer restocking the Infirmary. I was able to get everything on your list.” “Captain,” Simon said, his voice truly grateful. “That was . . .” “And minus another three I gave to Inara to get River some decent fitin’ cloths and a toy or somesuch. I know she’s ain’t a kid, but it’s creepy the way she lurks about the ship all day like a ghost. I’d sure like for her to find somethin’ to do.” Simon was so grateful and amazed that he didn’t think to apologize for his sister’s undeniably odd and eerie behavior. “Captain . . . Mal, thank you so . . .” “Don’t have to thank me boy,” Mal said quickly. “You’re the one did all the work then almost got killed on account.’ “Still,” Simon insisted. “Thank you.” “So,” the Captain said crisply, changing the subject. “You gonna tell me ‘bout what happened?” Simon pushed himself to the edge of his bed and pulled one arm of the crisp clean shirt on, “What do you want to know?” “Li’ll Cash said Old Cash was dead.” “He is,” Simon said slowly, pushing his arm through the other shirtsleeve. “He died of suffocation.” “They brought you on the ship to treat him for suffocation?” Mal asked. “Now I don’t know much ‘bout Medicine, but that don’t . . .” “No,” Simon cut him off. The boy licked his lips and started to explain as he started buttoning the crisp white shirt. “Someone, my guess is Little Cash, stabbed Old Cash last night during his sleep. The dagger, supposedly, was never found, but from the injures sustained I’d guess it was about nine inches long, four inches wide, with a serrated edge on one side.” Mal blinked, surprised by the doctor’s grasp of the details, and leaned forward, eager to hear the rest of the medical story. “Old Cash also had some sort of toxin or poison introduced into his system,” Simon continued, having finished the front of his shirt he addressed his cuffs. “Whether it was from ingestion or perhaps some coating on the blade that stabbed him, I’m not sure. In either event, the dosage was not enough to kill the old man, just make him ill. Likewise, the stab wound, while serious, was not fatal.” “So why bother with a doctor if they wanted Old Cash dead?” Mal wondered aloud. Simon shrugged, pulling the clean blue vest away from its brown paper wrapping. “They didn’t all want him dead. Izard seemed very loyal to the Older Cash.” “Maybe they needed the credibility,” Mal muttered. “There’d be no issue of Li’ll Cash takin’ his pa’s place if he’d done everything to save ‘im. But if he hadn’t, them loyal to the old man might just be strong enough for a mutiny. Ya tell Li’ll Cash all this about the knife and the poison, that why he tried to kill you?” “No,” Simon sighed, unbuttoning his collar. He’d buttoned it out of habit, assuming he’d have a tie, but the tie and coat that went with this suit had been left on the Betty-Lou. Simon didn’t really care, he had no use for suites on Serenity. “He decided to kill me after I realized he was the one trying, well,” he hesitated before correcting himself, “who’d succeeded in killing his father. After I performed surgery, closing the stab wound, stopping the bleeding, and the poison had failed to cause anything more serious than a fever, Little Cash smothered his father with a pillow.” Simon looked at Mal, “It wasn’t a crime he could hide.” “So to cover his tracks he decided to put you in a room, suck out all the oxygen and let you suffocate too?” “I think he was planing that from the start, that or something like it.” “More like than not,” Mal nodded. “Now, tell me, why didn’t you ever signal me with that transmitter I gave you?” “I, ah,” Simon said, glancing away, and then back again. “I didn’t want you to think I was weak, that I needed help.” “You did need help, though,” the Captain said. “Yeah,” Simon nodded. “I did.” “So you were gonna let yourself asphyxiate in a back room of a ship named Betty-Lou rather’n ask for help.” “No,” Simon said quickly. “As soon as I realized that Little Cash was planing to murder me I tried to call you. Unfortunately Kurt discovered the transmitter and . . .” “He stepped on it,” Mal said softly. “How did you know?” “Li’ll bird told me,” Mal said quickly. “So that’s what happened? You fixed up his pa, then he goes and kills ‘im and then says you gotta die for not doin’ more.” “Mostly,” Simon said. “He killed Izard, framed him for the murder and then the next moment executed him.” The boy’s voice was chilled and distant, Mal had a feeling the young doctor would have nightmares about this for months to come. “There weren’t any witnesses, I just don’t understand why he’d bother.” “’Cause he knew he’d done wrong,” Mal said. “He was trying to clear his conscience.” “By committing another murder?” “I never said he was sane,” Mal said. Simon nodded, generally agreeing that Li’ll Cash was anything but sane. After a slight pause, Simon broke the silence with a question, “How did you find me, sir?” “What?” Mal asked, he’d been lost in his own thoughts. “The transmitter was broken,” Simon said. “You had no reason to believe I was in any danger. And even if you did you wouldn’t have had any idea where I was on the ship. So, how did you find me?” “River found you,” Mal answered simply. Simon’s eyebrows shot up as he leaned forward in disbelief, “River?” The Captain nodded, “The girls somethin’, that’s for sure. She knew you were in trouble, she knew right where to find you. She even saved all our lives by distracting Li’ll Cash long ‘nough for me to shoot him.” “You shot him?” Simon interrupted, obviously bothered. “You’d rather I did what?” Mal asked, annoyed at the young doctor for questioning his right to shoot people. “Turn him over to the Alliance? He could go on trial, maybe, for the murder of his father.” “That’d be justice,” Simon said very softly, but with conviction. “Oh, and who you spose could testify?” Mal asked. “You?” Simon glanced away, clearly seeing the flaws in his preferred plan of action. “Or maybe we could get River on the stand,” Mal insisted. “Her testimony might be a little confusing, but I’m sure if we just explained that she was a top secret Alliance experiment the Judge wouldn’t make too much a fuss.” “All right,” Simon said tersely. “I get it.” “I’ve chosen my course,” Mal said forcefully, “I’d dedicated myself and my ship to protecting you and your sister. If that means puttin’ a bullet in the head of anyone who tries to kill you and steel her, then so be it. I’d rather see that then see your River get taken off to have God-knows-what done to her brain.” Simon, suddenly, looked very sad, “She’s not my River,” he said, staring at his hands. “I used to think that, with some time, she would be again, be the girl I grew up with. But, that was a pipe dream. What they did to her . . . I might be able to help her, guide her, but I can’t fix her, I can’t heal her. Some of that damage . . . it’s permanent. I realized that she’s, she’s never going to go back to being my River. She’s someone else now.” There was a deep, heavy pause. While the last to lull in the conversation had simply been spaces without words, this was a chasm full of words that were too painful to say and too hard to hear. After a bit, Mal cleared his throat, “Now, obviously I didn’t know her before,” he said. “Back when she was your cute li’ll sister in pigtails or whatnot. And I ain’t gonna say I know her now cause, truth be told, I’ve never understood a person less than I understand that sister a yours. But the one thing I do understand about her is that you are the only thing she cares about. The way she looks at you: she knows what you gave up fer her sake. She knows how much it hurts you to see her like this, such a mess. She knows how hard you’re tryin’ to make things right with her. And, maybe this is the most important, she knows that you’re the only person who looks at her and sees what she was before her little trek through hell. She loves you with all her heart, I’m sure of it. The one thing I know she is, is yours.” Simon looked at the Captain with wonder. He opened his mouth, tried to say something, but he couldn’t find any words. With a little less passion, Mal continued. “She’s the one that saved you today,” he said casually, “She’s the one knew you were in trouble, she’s the one that found ya, she’s the one that got us way from Li’ll Cash. That girls more dedicated to you than . . . well, the only thing I kin think ta compare it to is how dedicated you are to her,” He paused, finally adding. “You’re her Simon.” The young man smiled and laughed, just a little. “Thank you, sir.” He said earnestly. “You don’t know how much that means to me.” “Yeah well,” Mal said, slapping his legs as he pushed himself out of the chair. “I just didn’t want you ta get all sad an’ sentimental. Anyone on the ship walks round with a rain cloud over their head and Kaylee’s cheerfulness alarm goes off. She starts planin’ ‘community acctivities’ an’ forcin’ everyone ta play twister.” Simon laughed this time out of genuine mirth. “Sure, you chuckle away now,” Mal said warningly. “Just wait, you’ll see. ‘Bout seven months back, Inara got homesick. Kaylee’s solution was makin’ stencils and havin’ us all spend a day paintin’ vines around the kitchen.” “I’d wondered about that,” Simon said, smiling. “That girl,” Mal said to himself, shaking his head and taking a deep breath before turning to the doctor. “Speekin’ of, we’re sposed to be meetin’ the ladies outside’a ‘Chien Wa’s Fine German Eatery’ for in ‘bout twenty minuets. You might wanna start quaffing your hair or whatever you do.” Simon gave Mal a half amused, half annoyed glance and then stood up, swaying ever so slightly and having to catch himself on one of the bed post. “’Course,” Mal continued, obviously concerned. “If you wanna stay here, rest up, that’d be fine.” “No,” Simon said, taking a deep breath, letting go of the post and finding his center of balance before walking over to the vanity where he could see how badly he’d actually been hurt. Honey, for all her eccentricity, had cleaned him up fairly well. He knew that blood must have caked both his hands and been all over his face, but there were not signs of that. The gash from the riffle but looked much smaller than it felt, only about three inches long, right over his left eyebrow. There was a huge bruise behind it that was, by this time, a dark uneven shade of blue. He touched it and winced and decided he didn’t want to touch it again. His hair was a mess, but Simon couldn’t quite find it in himself to care. Overall, he looked tired. Of course, over all, he felt tired. He rubbed his eyes and turned to Captain Reynolds. “How far is it to the restaurant?” “Bout ten minuets walk, at a good pace. Course you don’t exactly look up to a good pace.” “We should probably get going,” Simon said. “Probably,” Mal said, nodding his head to indicate the doctor should lead the way out. When they reached the door, Simon pulled it open and held it for the Captain. As Mal passed, the younger man asked, “Just out of curiosity, Captain, is there any place you can go and not fall into some bizarre adventure?” Mal didn’t even have to think, he just sighed and said, “Haven’t found one yet.” Simon nodded, following his Captain out the door. “That’s pretty much what I suspected.”

The End Although, there will be an epilog