*Out of bullets; time for phase two...* Dropping her now-useless firearms, River Tam sprinted for the cover of a nearby building. *It’s okay; only six targets left...* Tearing around the building and racing down the next street, she circled the block, coming back behind the surviving mercenaries. They raised their weapons when they noticed her, but River was too fast. Disarming the first with a kick, she slammed his head into the nearby wall, then attacked the remaining five. She made quick work of them. Standing alone now, chest heaving from the exertion, River was motionless for a moment. Finally, she turned and glanced toward the sky. Hanging from the belly of Serenity like a large, bearded spider, Jayne gave her a quick thumbs-up. Hesitating no longer, River returned her vision to the ground-level and headed back across the street toward the opposite side of the warehouse.

“Go ahead,” Mal urged, nodding toward the gun on the roof but not looking away from Niska. “This is your last chance to point a gun at me. Take it.” His expression frozen in one of intense curiosity, Niska knelt and retrieved the weapon. Straightening, he flashed Mal an evil grin. “My, Captain Reynolds, but you are an old-fashioned man.” He pointed the gun at Mal’s head. “In zis case, however, I do believe it will be your last-” Malcolm Reynolds, former sergeant in the Independents army, veteran of the Battle of Serenity Valley, and captain of the Firefly-class starship Serenity, drew his pistol and fired a single bullet through Niska’s skull before the other man could even twitch his finger toward the trigger. He blinked once, and Niska’s now-lifeless body crumpled to the rooftop. “The only ‘last’ about this day,” Mal muttered, “is us lookin’ over our shoulder for you.” Holstering his gun, he moved to retrieve the other from Niska’s motionless hand.

“We’ve got to get you to the infirmary as soon as possible,” Simon implored, injecting a coagulant agent into Gabriel’s arm. “You are in very bad shape.” Leaning back in his seat and gazing out the open hatch at the mess outside, Gabriel grumbled, “Not leavin’ ‘til I know the sergeant’s alive.” “I don’t think he’s getting talked out of it,” Zoe admitted to the frustrated doctor. “At least we got him sittin’ down.” “Didn’t take too much coaxin’,” Gabriel mumbled. “Seems talkin’s enough of a chore.” “Then don’t,” Simon told him, applying disinfectant solvents to his patient’s multiple wounds. Gabriel growled at the contact, and Simon gave him a painkiller shot. A moment later, Inara entered the shuttle. “How’s he doing?” she inquired. “He’s in pain,” Gabriel revealed. “An’ a mite pissed off.” Simon sighed. “He’s in horrible shape, and his condition is unstable.” He paused from his work to dig through his bag. “I’m actually shocked that he’s conscious.” “Conscious,” Gabriel thought aloud, “but not altogether here.” Simon pulled an IV kit from his bag. “I thought we’d decided you weren’t going to talk, anymore.” He took hold of Gabriel’s arm, but the man pulled away and struggled to his feet. “…Hey!” Simon stood as well, turning to see River approach. When she neared the shuttle, she broke into a run, throwing her arms around Gabriel’s neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. Simon, Zoe, and Inara exchanged bewildered looks. “Well, ain’t this the happy family reunion,” Mal commented, walking into the shuttle. Simon grabbed Gabriel by the arm and pulled him back into the chair. River went with him, sitting on Gabriel’s lap. “I can’t work under these conditions!” Simon exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Your friends out there sure did a pretty job on those unfriendlies,” Mal said, looking at Inara. He gave her a small smile. “Thanks.” “Oh, it took a little bit of persuasion to get the prefect’s help without many questions asked,” Inara assured him, “but persuasion is what I do best.” “It surely is.” Mal looked around at the occupants of the shuttle. “Now that we’re all present and accounted for, can we go home?” “Let’s please,” Simon agreed. “The police are securing those who surrendered,” Inara informed, “but I think we can slip away without questioning.” “Good,” Mal said, moving for the pilot seat, but River beat him to it. He shrugged, turning back to the group. “Questions are bad. Let’s go rescue Kaylee.”

“Well,” Simon reported to Mal in the calm and safety of his infirmary, “he’s stable. I had to do some surgery to repair some of the damage, especially from the bullet wounds.” He glanced back at the bandaged, unconscious form of Gabriel on the table. River was sitting on the stool, holding his hand. She had refused to leave his side from the moment Simon was finished with the surgery. “No broken bones,” he continued, “but there’s a lot of bruising and knife wounds. Niska’s men actually did more damage pulling the bullets out than putting them in, but I doubt that gentleness was their intention.” His gaze returned to the captain. “He’ll pull through.” Mal nodded his approval. “How’s your sister?” he asked, ignoring the fact that she was in the room with them. “River’s fine. Nothing more than a split knuckle from hitting one of the mercenaries.” He smiled. “You know River.” Mal looked at her. Although she was ignoring them, Mal was sure she was listening to their every word. “Sometimes I like to pretend I do.” A squeal of delight from River drew both of their attention from the conversation, and she stood, grinning from ear to ear. Moving closer, Mal noticed that Gabriel’s eyes were open. He smiled at River. “Hey…” “Hey…” she returned. Looking groggily at the captain, “Hey, Sarge,” he greeted. “You know, for bein’ a shiong-muh duh duang-ren so obsessed with torture an’ all, that Niska guy didn’t really have nothin’.” Mal gave Gabriel a tight-lipped smirk. “Personally, I didn’t much care for it las’ time he had me, Gab.” He rested a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Gabriel let out a small cough. “Don’t call me that, Sarge. My name’s Gabriel.” Mal chuckled. “You couldn’t get me or Zoe to stop callin’ you that in the war,” he reminded, “an’ don’t go thinkin’ that’s changed. And don’t call me Sarge; my name’s Captain.” “Right,” Gabriel said, then added, “Now, is that Mr. Captain Reynolds, or Sir Captain Reynolds?” Mal laughed. “You always was a smartass.” He took a step back, shaking a finger at Gabriel but addressing River. “You watch yourself with this one, Albatross; he’s liable to go an’ get shot for ya, or some other such nonsense.” River looked up at the captain long enough to flash him a quirky smile. “No he’s not, because I’m never letting him off the ship.” She leaned down to whisper to Gabriel. “You almost take as much looking after as my brother.” Mal turned, clapping Simon on the back. “Good job, Doc,” he said. “Time for me to go an’ be a captain.” He left the room.

Kaylee caught Mal in the cargo area. “Glad you came back in one piece,” she told him. “’Course, I had the hard part, tryin’ to keep this girl still in the air.” “An’ I’m still shocked that you didn’t drop the gorram thing on me,” Jayne joked, replacing his barbell on the weight bench. “Never happen,” Kaylee assured him. “You would have come back up through the hatch. Might’ve hit the ceilin’, though...” “I’m right here!” Mal protested. “Stuck between the two of you!” He turned for the stairs. “I think our li’l albatross was right some months back; it’s getting very crowded.” “Aw, c’mon, Cap,” Jayne teased, and they followed him up the stairs. “You know the ship. This’s us you’re talkin’ about.” “That’s what scares me,” Mal retorted over his shoulder. He stopped short on the catwalk when Inara exited her shuttle. Exchanging knowing glances, Jayne and Kaylee disappeared. “Well, you clean up rather well,” Inara commented unconvincingly. Mal leaned one arm on a railing. “I’ve been prettier in the past,” he joked. “Remember the bandit job on Triumph? Admit it, I looked pretty damn good in that bonnet.” Inara laughed. “Yeah, too bad you didn’t keep it.” They shared the laugh, and then Mal’s smile faded. “Yep,” he added. There was a moment of awkward silence where both of them let their eyes wander about their surroundings. Finally, Mal took a step forward and extended his elbow. “C’mon,” he said, “I’ll buy ya a cup of coffee.” Smiling, Inara hooked her arm through his. “I accept,” she told him, and they made their way toward the common area.

“I’m just glad Sinclair was still willing to hire us,” Zoe confided as they walked along the dusty street the next day. “What with our tardiness.” “If it’s legal, I don’t see why he’d need to wait around on us,” Mal responded, “but he said someone put in a good word for us, and if it’s a job, I ain’t complainin’, especially if it goes as smooth as it promises.” When the reached the arranged meeting place, an overweight man in a suit stepped away from the wall on which he was leaning. “Captain Reynolds?” he queried, and did not offer his hand. “Well,” Mal began, “that depends on whether or not you are a torturous psycho.” He smiled at the man’s confusion. “Never mind that. Sorry about the lateness, but I guess you heard about the little bit of unpleasantness yesterday.” The man huffed his chest. “Heard something about a Firefly being involved with that,” he commented. “If not for your recommendations, I probably would have sought another vessel by now.” “Well, we appreciate the wait. Now,” Mal continued, “what can Serenity do for you, Mr. Sinclair?” Sinclair tugged at his suit jacket. “Transport for myself and my cargo to Liann Juin. You may have heard of their numerous competitions this time of the year.” Mal and Zoe exchanged a glance. “No, I don’t believe we have.” “Well,” the man continued, “I have a team of eight prize-winning dogs for the Eurithicon Pageant in two weeks, and we need to be there days early, as well as our training equipment. I trust you can make it in a decent time.” Mal and Zoe’s eyes widened. “You have a shipment of… dogs?” Zoe blurted out. Mal was choking too badly to speak. Sinclair eyed them oddly. “Yesss… and an assortment of training equip-” “They wouldn’t happen to be b…beagles?” Mal managed. Sinclair frowned, his confusion growing. “Well, no… they’re daschunds, and…” He trailed off as Mal and Zoe burst into raucous laughter. Trying to stifle the laughing, Mal thought, *I so wish Wash were here...*

That was a year ago. Mal sat at the end of the common room’s table, staring blankly at the surface. He’d lost track of time; he could have been there for at least an hour. *Whole ‘Verse is gonna change over this one...* he thought somberly. Gabriel stepped tentatively into the room. He paused in the doorway, then moved to a seat diagonally from the captain, sitting silently. They sat, motionless and without speaking, for several long minutes. There was no real need to speak; both knew exactly what was on the other’s mind… the Independents had regrouped bigger, stronger, and more convicted than ever, and the civil war had begun again. Finally, Gabriel muttered, “Big choice, huh?” Without looking up from his tabletop, Mal replied with, “Yep.” Gabriel pressed his palms flat against the table, blowing out a puff of air. “Know what you’re gonna do?” “Nope.” “Zoe?” Mal finally locked eyes with his friend. “Zoe’s a soldier. She’ll go if I go, and she’ll stay if I stay, an’ I ain’t got no say in it.” Gabriel nodded absently. “Been thinkin’ about askin’ River to marry me.” Mal’s eyes widened in shock, and his blank expression grew a softer tone. “Oh, really?” Gabriel nodded. “Yeah. Kinda hard to spring it on her, though, since she already knows I been thinkin’ about it.” “Yeah, I can see where that might put one in a bit of a bind.” Gabriel took another breath. “Where I’m goin’ with this, Malcolm, is that we’ve all got a damn good thing on this boat. A damn good thing, although sometimes it don’t much seem like it at times. And although you and me and Zoe have a hell of a lot to hate the Alliance for, I love River, an’ this boat, an’ this crew more than I could ever hate the Alliance.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Another moment of silence before Mal said, “I agree with you. However, on the other side, we never got the chance to finish our last fight. We’ve got two weights on both sides of our conscience. So the real question here still remains: what are we gonna do?”