“You’re thinking,” River stated, walking straight into Gabriel’s room and sitting beside him on the bed. She’d done this countless times in the past week since Gabriel had found himself a nook on Serenity. Gabriel never minded her intrusions. Looking off-handedly at River, his expression devoid of any emotion, Gabriel responded with what could quite possibly have been obvious to her. “I’m always thinking.” *You know that, already*, he thought. “I still like to hear you say it,” River informed him. “I like to hear your voice.” Gabriel unconsciously ran his fingers through his longish hair, as River had seen him do so many times before. “Not many people hear it,” he stated. River scooted closer. “I like it when you talk, especially for that reason.” Gabriel waited for ten seconds of silence before standing. “What is it about me that you find so gorram interesting?” River grinned, pulling him back down onto the bed by his shoulder. “Why does it matter?” She clutched his calloused hand in her tiny digits. “You need to relax; you’re almost as bad as my fong luh boob of a brother.” Gabriel eyed her incredulously. “Don’t be comparin’ me to your brother. He’s a good guy. He don’t deserve that.” “Oh, you’re too hard on yourself.” River stood and performed a small flourish in the middle of his room. “You are more than you give yourself credit for.” Gabriel stared absently at the floor, apparently ignoring River’s sitting back down beside him and gripping his hand again. *I’m no good for you*, he thought to himself before he could stop. “Liou coe schway duh biao-tze fuh ur-tze!!!” he shouted, immediately cussing at himself. “There’s no need for that,” River assured him, applying a bit more pressure to the squeeze on his hand. “People can’t help what they think, only what they say.” She gave him a shy smile. “Just then, you were having problems with both.” There was a pause, and then Gabriel smiled. His smile turned into a laughing grin, and in turn, her smile widened. “First time I’ve heard you laugh,” she stated. “I like it. Your real face suits you better than your mask. I know you can’t help it, but maybe someday it will let you remove the mask more often.” Gabriel knew that by ‘it’ will let you, she meant his mind. “No surprise that you know me so well,” he stated. “Sometimes, I wish I could read minds. Other times, I’m glad I can’t.” River shot him a glance that let him know she was all-too in concurrence with the latter of his statement. “You’re an empath,” she pointed out to him. “That’s closer than most humans get.” She rested her head lightly on his shoulder. “You know what I’m feeling right now, and I know what you’re thinking right now.” She grinned at some of the thoughts crossing his mind at the sudden extra contact between the two. “What do you want?” Gabriel whispered. “I mean, right now?” River was silent for a moment. “I want you to talk to me. Speak straight from your heart, and not your brain. That way, I won’t know what you’re going to say before you say it, and you won’t have time to alter it, filter it, before you say it.” Gabriel released a small, breathy sound from the back of his throat as he exhaled. There was a moment of silence before he thought, *What do you want me to tell you?* “What do you think of me?” River suggested. Gabriel drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Okay, um… All of us are alone. Even though there are other people in our lives, family and friends, we all live alone. We talk to, hang out with, live with, sleep with, and eat with others. We love other people, and we hate other people. But in the simplest of senses, we all live alone in our own little universes that we call 'the mind'.” The rapidity with which he could come up with something so deep with such an uneducated voice conveying the message actually blew River away. She lifted her head from his shoulder and stared at him. Surprising River was something that was rarely done, particularly when engaging in conversation. Gabriel made fierce eye contact with her. “Yer the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t make me feel alone. You are truly a special gift. You invade my universe, making me no longer truly alone. It affects me on a level deeper than anything in my life ever has done before. And for that, I thank you.” As a tear rolled down River’s cheek, Kaylee popped her head in the door. “Hey, we’re…” She froze in mid-sentence upon seeing River in Gabriel’s room, and the close proximity with which they were engaged. “Oh, sorry… Was I…” “No,” Gabriel responded, using one thumb to brush the tear lightly from River’s cheek. He stood to look at Kaylee. “We were just talking.” Kaylee frowned in curiosity. “Oh.” She didn’t look convinced, even though Gabriel was telling the truth. “Well… I was just gonna letcha know, we’re comin’ up on Persephone real quick. Should be in orbit within the hour.” She looked from Gabriel to River, and back again. “So… you can get ready!” With the last part, she flashed them a cheery grin and cheerfully departed.

As Serenity shuddered from its close proximity to the ground, Mal rested one hand lightly on a railing to steady himself. When Inara appeared, walking in the direction of her rented shuttle, he straightened. “Good luck with your appointment,” he told her, managing the most friendly smile he could. When Inara gave him a funny look, he rethought his statement, adding, “I really mean that.” Inara smiled, and it was a genuine smile. “No, you don’t. But I appreciate it anyway. Really, thanks.” He watched her enter the shuttle, then blew out a breath and looked around for the nearest wall to bang his head against. Instead, he turned and descended the stairs to the floor of the cargo bay. He felt the ship finally touch down as Jayne entered the bay from the rear, crossing the distance between them in long strides. Jayne hefted his belt, which had two pistols in it, and gestured with his head to the shotgun strapped to his back. “This ain’t one of those gun-limit meets, is it?” Mal glanced down at his own single pistol, then back to Jayne. “Nah. Long as you ain’t got no grenades.” “Seem to remember how well things went las’ time you tol’ me that.” Jayne added a grunt to his reminiscence, but didn’t argue. Mal thumbed a switch, opening the hatch and lowering the loading ramp. He turned to see that Zoe had joined them. “All accounted; if everyone’s ready, let’s do this.” “Ready, Sir,” Zoe informed him, and they walked down the ramp and into the street. Although he didn’t entirely trust River yet, they were on the ground and shut down, so Mal had left her with instructions to tend to the ship. Gabriel he wasn’t concerned with; the kid wasn’t exactly a member of the crew, and Mal could care less if he wandered about, as long as he was back in time for takeoff. Gab was a good enough guy, and he may or may not possess talents that he could contribute to the crew, but Mal had no intention of sticking around for him if he happened to disappear, even with their history together. He still had a ship to run, and Simon was the resident babysitter, anyway, not him. As they continued down the dusty dirt road, passing stone, wood, and stucco-covered buildings, a bearded gentleman in a black, upper-middle-class suit sidled up casually beside Mal. “Malcolm Reynolds?” They stopped, and Mal cautiously eyed the man up and down. “We’re just passin’ through,” he replied, giving the man neither a ‘yes’ nor a ‘no’. The man nodded in understanding. “This way, if you please.” He gestured in the direction of a side street. Giving Jayne and Zoe a ‘be on guard’ look, Mal followed the man for a block. They turned left onto another narrow street, passing alleys crowded with crates, old machinery, and the occasional bum, and stopped before a two-story warehouse. “Your client is waiting inside,” the guide explained, opening a side door for the shipmates in tow. Mal gestured toward the door. “We’ll follow you, if you don’t mind.” When the man nodded politely and turned his back, Mal checked his holster instinctively. As it was five minutes ago, the catch was unlashed. The warehouse wasn’t well-lit; in fact, the boarded-up upper windows made the gloomy catwalks above nearly indiscernible. *Don’t much like that at all*, Mal thought to himself, and instantly, his caution was tripled. He checked his holster again. As they crossed the open, gravel-paved cavity, Mal spotted a group of twelve to fifteen men near the far end of the warehouse. The man in the front was flanked, men on either side and slightly behind. When the group was ten meters away, and the bearded man cut to the side, Mal froze in his tracks. It was Niska, and he had a new group of flunkies. “*Hwoon dahn*,” Zoe whispered behind Mal’s ear. Still a bit shocked, the only thing Mal could think to say was, “You ain’t Sinclair.” “Hell no, that ain’t Sinclair,” Jayne growled. “That’s Niska.” Mal and Zoe rolled their eyes. “Zis is very true,” Niska stated, taking one casual step forward. “And also, I have no affiliation with zis, ‘Sinclair’.” His creepy, toothy smile widened, and he folded his shriveled hands in front of him. “My brilliant team of decryption specialists intercepted your transmission, Mister Reynolds,” he continued in his slow accent, “and I thought it the perfect opportunity to arrange a little ‘interview’.” Mal’s mind raced furiously, details, experience, and plan after plan rushing through his head in a desperate storm. As good as they were with guns, he was fairly confident that, with Zoe and Jayne, they could take all five down before the others could get off a shot. However, Niska was sure to have placed sharpshooters on the overhead catwalks, and he and his crewmembers would be gunned down before Niska’s body even had time to hit the ground, The nearby crates and machinery that could serve as cover would do them no good against overhead shots. “Well,” Mal began cautiously, “considerin’ how our last ‘interview’ went, I ain’t too impatient for the next one to start.” His right arm was already loosening for a draw, should this come to it. Niska almost looked tickled. “Ohh, Mister Reynolds, perhaps you misunderstand my intentions.” He leaned forward a bit. “I think you should lay down your arms for ze time being. You are in a losing situation, and you have no reinforcements available to you.” “They won’t need it,” came a voice from above. “But you surely will.” Mal strongly resisted the temptation to turn his attention from Niska, but the voice was definitely familiar. Niska and his men glanced up as a figure dropped from the catwalks and landed heavily on the gravel. “Gabriel!” Zoe exclaimed, and Mal frowned, blinking in surprise. Niska’s men aimed their weapons at the newcomer, but he raised a hand for them to hold their fire. “Ahh, and who is zis? Gabriel, was it?” Despite his unflinching appearance and perpetually pleasant tone, he nevertheless took a step back. “A pleasure. I am Adelai Niska.” Gabriel stood square before the slighter man, flexing his hands open and shut. “Who am I?” He took another step toward Niska. “I am a bad dream. Not quite the nightmare that you are, but still a bad dream.” Niska looked amused. “My apologies, but I-” “Yer a nightmare,” Gabriel interrupted, “but yer still a frail, pathetic little worm. A twisted, filthy tah mah de with a superiority complex… and a poor taste in role models.” He cocked his head sharply to the side, like a curious dog. “But I do have one very important question for you. Have you ever seen the back of your head?” Without waiting for even another breath, his head snapped forward, bashing Niska in the face and crumpling him like a rag doll. Immediately, he dropped to the ground and dove into the group of gunmen at knee-level, bowling the first few over like a raging bull. Mal and the others immediately began firing and diving for cover as all hell broke loose. As he plugged three shots into another gunman, Mal noted that he was almost as surprised by this display of combat skill as he was when River went fong luh in the club, back before the Miranda affair. Whatever was done to them by the Alliance, the difference in their fighting was most definitely apparent. Gabriel lacked all of the finesse and fluidity with which River moved. However, he was just as fast, and moved more similarly to a combination of a tank and a meat grinder on wheels. Mentally slapping himself for taking the half second it took to introspect, Mal ducked behind his stack of crates to reload. When he popped back up to seek another target, he witnessed Gabriel taking one, two, three rounds. It did not slow him down. “Mal!” Jayne yelled into his ear, coming up right behind him, “we gotta get outta this luh-suh firestorm. All these stray bullets, and someone else is liable to get hit!” Mal could barely hear him. He dismissed whatever the suggestion may have been, anyway. During a quick break in the firing so the enemy could take cover and regroup, Gabriel shouted, “Get the hell outta here! *GO*!!” He took another round, collapsing behind a stacking of crates. His war instincts kicking in, Mal immediately turned and dashed for the nearest exit, which happened to be a decaying, boarded-up window. He smashed through the barrier, splinters of rotten wood creating a haze around him, and rolled across the dirt outside. Jayne was right on his heels, and both hit the far wall of the alley in a tangle before scrambling to their feet. “Where’s Zoe?!??” Mal yelled, his ears still muffled from the thunderous gunfire. Right as the words left his mouth, there she was, tumbling to the ground and righting herself. Without hesitation, Mal dashed for the alley exit, broke a hard right, and took off at a sprint. A bullet whizzed past his ear, and Mal hit the dirt, pivoting on his hip to fire off several shots behind him. One round struck a man in front of the warehouse, and his comrade dove for the ground. Jayne plugged him twice from twenty five meters away, and then the trio were off again.

Simon and Kaylee were inspecting a merchant’s stand wares when there was a commotion down the street. Turning at the sound of people shouting objections and scrambling to and fro, they spotted Mal, Zoe, and Jayne running full-throttle through the throngs of pedestrians. Unnoticing of Simon and Kaylee, the three dashed right past, heading in the general direction of Serenity. Giving each other an, ‘Oh, no. Not again,’ look, they hurried after their comrades. “What do you suppose they’ve gotten us into this time?” Simon wondered aloud, trying to keep his breathing even as they ran. “Oh…” Kaylee replied, breathing erratically, “you know the captain and Jayne. Always sayin’ the wrong thing to the wrong people…” A breath. “…at the wrong time.” When they finally made it to the ship, Jayne and Zoe were leaning against anything they could find, sucking oxygen into their fatigued lungs. Mal, clutching his gut, thumbed the intercom switch and the ramp/hatch button at the same time. “River!” he managed to bellow out between gasps, “get us the gorram hell outta here!” The engines were already firing up before his thumb hit the intercom, and Simon placed a hand on Mal’s shoulder. “What’s going on?” “Niska…” Zoe panted. “He set a trap for us.” “Is Gabriel on the ship?” Kaylee asked. “I know Inara shouldn’t be back yet…” “Don’t worry about Gabriel,” Mal ordered, pointing a finger at Kaylee. “And don’t say nothin’ to River, neither, in case she hasn’t read our minds yet.” Still panting heavily, he turned and hastily made his way to the stairs. “We’re gettin’ off this rock right now! Kaylee, I need you in the engine room!” Simon and Zoe followed the captain to the bridge, while Jayne was content to catch his breath next to the hatch. In the pilot’s seat, River’s head turned to look at them as they entered. Her hands never left the controls, but Simon saw tears welling in her brown eyes. “Something’s wrong,” she whimpered, and her lower lip began to tremble. “Something happened to him.” Mal stepped up next to her, pointing to the window. “Don’t you pay that no nevermind. Just tend to yer flyin’.” River suddenly lost all self-control and, cussing under his breath, Mal had to sidle her out of the way and take over the flight controls. Simon took his sobbing sister by the arm and led her to the back of the bridge, where she collapsed in a huddle. “Simon,” she cried, clutching at him, “Gabriel’s hurt! He’s hurt and alone, and there’s dark! Not the same, it’s not! It’s not!” “Okay, okay,” Simon assured her, stroking her dark hair. “It’s not the same, I get it.” “No, you don’t!” River shrieked. “Don’t lie! It’s not the darkness, it’s dark! We can’t let him have what he wants!” “Who?” Simon pressed, hoping that if River focused more on explanation and less on ranting, it might help calm her down a bit. “It was Niska,” Jayne announced, having finally joined them in the bridge. “Gorram trap. Creepy kid gave us a diversion, an’ we got the hell out.” “No!” River cried. “Not what *he* wants! What Gabriel wants! We can’t let him do this!” “Well,” Mal called over his shoulder, “we’re in orbit now, an' Gabriel went down, so there ain’t much we can do about it.” Pulling from her brother’s grasp, River suddenly leapt to her feet. “We have to help!” she pleaded. “We have to!” “Ain’t nothin’ to help,” Jayne cut in, and there was actually a surprising touch of sadness in his tone. “Man got shot. Saw it myself. Shot four times. Even if they din’t kill ‘im, Niska’s men finished him off when the bullets dropped ‘im.” “He’s right,” Zoe agreed. “I really am sorry to say it, but there’s no way Gabriel should be alive." “He is!!” River exclaimed, pulling away from her brother when he tried again to grab her. “He’s just hurt!” “We ain’t slowin’ down,” Mal growled, eyes locked on the stars before them. “We’re getting’ away from this dump before Niska gets on our tail. We…” He was cut off by River’s piercing cry. She collapsed again, clutching her face. “GABRIEL!!!” she screamed, and became such a mess that Simon could no longer determine any of her words.

Niska, his broken, bleeding nose bandaged, held the pliers in front of Gabriel’s eye. The molar was still dripping blood. “You knocked out one of my teeth with zat move,” he informed the captive. “Now, I must remove ten.” Growling through a mouthful of blood, Gabriel lunged at the chains holding him in place like a wild animal. “If you think, after what I’ve been through, that any pathetic attempt on yer part to torture will break me,” he rasped hoarsely, “you are sadly mistaken.” Gabriel was quite upset with himself for losing consciousness shortly after Mal and the others escaped. The blood loss from the bullet wounds had just been too much, even for his technologically-advanced physique… Niska chuckled. “You underestimate me, Mister Gabriel…” He was apparently waiting for a last name, but Gabriel did not answer him. “…Mister Gabriel it is, zen.” He dropped the tooth to the floor. “I have had quite a lot of practice in zis area. And since you seemed to enjoy my digging your bullets out,” he continued, gesturing to the three bloody, ragged holes in Gabriel’s side, “I think zat you may be a bit less than you pretend.” He nodded to the two bulky guards, who held the young man’s head in place again. Sticking the pliers back into Gabriel’s mouth, he grabbed hold of the matching rear bottom molar on the opposite side. Gabriel gagged, then growled again. “Just hold still now,” Niska warned him. “We wouldn’t wish to damage your pretty mouth, now, would we?” He chuckled a bit, then gave the pliers a good yank, and Gabriel gave a sharp grunt of pain, more blood flying up to patter onto his chin, neck, and hard, ample chest. “There,” Niska soothed, inspecting the second molar. “Zat wasn’t so bad, was it?” He dropped the molar to the floor, setting the pliers aside. “I think zat we will wait on ze other eight. What do you think, Mister Gabriel?” Gabriel roared. “Chu ni duh!!” he spat, splattering flecks of blood across Niska’s aging face. “You can kiss my ass, you filthy liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze!!! Rrrrrgh!!!” Niska grinned. “Zat was ze opinion I was hoping for, my friend.” He motioned to one of the guards. “Now, we will begin recording and transmitting ze proceedings to your friend, Malcolm Reynolds. Perhaps, he can be persuaded to join us.” After a few more choice expletives, both in English and in Chinese, Gabriel retorted with, “Malcolm Reynolds is a smart man. He knows I was his diversion, and I don’t mean nothin’ to him, anyhow.” He tried to clench his jaw, instead wincing from the stabbing pain. “He ain't comin’ for me.” “Perhaps,” Niska conceded, “he will come, and perhaps he will not. If he will not, zen I suppose I can entertain myself with you. For,” he added, holding up a finger, “ze time being.” He leaned in very closely to Gabriel’s face. “Your friend, Malcolm Reynolds, may be a smart man, but he is also a soldier. He will come for you. He thinks he knows what I am capable of, but he only received a small taste of what you are about to experience.”

Malcolm Reynolds was a mess. Finally shaking his head and grinding his teeth one final time, he brought the ship to a halt and stood. Turning to River, who had calmed down by this point, he spoke. “I’ve made a decision,” he announced to the other occupants of the room. “River,” he began, “can you *guarantee* me that Gabriel is not only still alive, but not on his deathbed as we speak?” Blinking at tears that still ran, River stared at him. She said nothing. Mal sighed. “Then I have no choice but to…” “If you do not turn this ship around right now,” River declared, standing again, “I am stealing your shuttle, and unless you think you can draw faster than I can take you down, there’s nothing you can do about it.” It was blatantly obvious that she was entirely lucid, and meant every word she said. An ominous silence, with the exception of electronic hummings, filled the bridge. Mal and River stared each other down for seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity. The tension in the room was so thick, one could barely see through it. Fortunately, a cackle of static from behind Mal broke the soul-lock in which the captain and the girl had become stuck. Everyone turned to the noisy screen in time to see a bloody Gabriel, chained from abs to ankles onto a post, choke back a scream as a by-now-equally messy Niska began the task of hammering short nails into individual ribs. Niska glanced at the camera, flashing a smile as if he were some satanic movie star. “Now,” he explained, “we are continuing with our study of ze human skeletal system. I understand zat zis is a bit more crude than my earlier demonstrations.” He winked. “But I believe ze effect will be ultimately successful, despite ze simpleness of my technique.” *Obviously a trap*, Mal thought to himself. *Obviously a trap*. Bringing her hands to her mouth, River dashed from the room. Mal could hear her vomiting in the corridor. He felt sick himself, and thumbed the ‘mute volume’ on the display screen as quickly as possible. Simon was already moving to see to her, and Mal rapidly sidestepped past Zoe and Jayne when he heard the sound of running feet. “River!” he called out, and River stopped at the end of the corridor, turning to look past her brother to the captain. His eyes locking with hers in a look of deep understanding, Mal said, “We’re goin' back to get Gabriel.”