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BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - MYSTERY
Plenty of loose ends to tie up before Serenity and Zirondelle dock at the Trahan Orbiter. Armand seems to have given himself the run of the ships again--hopefully without sharp objects this time--and Simon steps up... finally.
CATEGORY: FICTION TIMES READ: 1827 RATING: 9 SERIES: FIREFLY
Author's Note: This has suffered some re-writes as well. I finally figured out what the heck it is I'm doing with this.
All Firefly characters are the property of someone else. All original characters are copyrighted by yours truly. This is not in any way, means or intention meant to infringe on anybody.
The MIGHTY BIG APOLOGY still stands for anyone who can read and speak French, Cajun or Chinese. The translations as I understand them are included, although that doesn't necessarily mean it's grammatically correct. I leave out the more vicious Chinese swearing. Any browncoat worth their salt knows all those anyway, or at least where to find them.
Ecouter, fre. Parti d'ici. Il vous tirera.: Listen, brother. Come away from here. He'll shoot you.
Fre – brother
Parti, Fre. Ce n'est pas l'endroit pour vous - Listen, brother. Come away from here. He'll shoot you
Laissez-le – Let him
Par la Providence – by Providence
Wo dui wo zuo de shi gandao hen houhui— I feel very sorry for what I did
Heartbroken: Meili Long - Part 2
Mal saw nothing but red--red, and the back of the stocky little fella who used to be a member of the Zirondelle crew and was currently standing a little too close to the heart of Serenity.
Storming into Serenity's engine room, Mal heard a little voice that sounded like Kaylee say, "Cap'n?" as he went by.
Mal took hold of Armand Garzon by the back of the neck with his left hand and shoved the muzzle of the gun in his right hand into the base of Armand's skull. The sound of the gun cocking and revving to fire fairly echoed in the engine room's tight space.
"I believe I put out a missive a few days back that said both engine rooms were off limits to non-crew," Mal said ominously. "That means you ain't supposed to be in here."
"Cap'n, he didn't hurt nothin'," Kaylee began. "He was just--"
"Kaylee, when I need to hear from you, I'll ask."
"Green eyes... brown eyes... brown coats... too much time, too much death, too much too much... betrayal," Armand murmured. He tried to turn his head and Mal thought he saw him grimace distastefully. Then Armand started to raise his arms. "Betrayal has a bitter bitter taste."
Mal used the gun barrel to pop Armand on the side of his head. Kaylee squeaked behind him, but Mal ignored it. "Need you to focus here, Garzon."
Then he heard Cariveau’s voice wrap itself around an importunate-sounding French phrase. "Ecouter, fre. Parti d'ici. Il vous tirera."
As if he didn’t hear a single syllable of the fancy French, Armand continued lifting both arms away from himself and started to turn around slowly. Realizing suddenly that he didn't have a hold on him anymore, Mal aimed his gun at the center of Armand's chest, ready to fire at the slightest twitch. It did occur to Mal, if dimly, that Armand’s right arm shouldn't have worked for him at all, what with having been shot only a few days before. At the very least, it should have hurt like a son of a bitch to move it, but Armand didn't seem to be feeling any pain at all.
Their gazes met and Mal could see nothing but raw malevolence. Eyes as black as space itself seared into him, further than anyone had dared go--right down to his very soul. Much as he wanted to, Mal couldn't break his gaze away.
Armand's voice took on a deeper tone. "Laissez-le."
Do it. Pull the trigger.
Mal heard that ominous voice, but didn't see Armand's lips move. Other voices careened around him, but Mal couldn't hear the words. There were too many other sounds--gunfire blended with men’s voices wailing as they died painful deaths. Sounds of war.
When Mal thought to lower the gun, he was alarmed to discover his arm was frozen in place. His finger tightened on the trigger, just a bit, and of its own accord. Then Kaylee's voice broke through the white noise, high pitched and frantic.
"...ap'n! You're in front of the central fuel intake--if the bullet goes through! Zoë, let me go! He can't..."
It's in you. Cold... heartless killing instinct... a natural thing... comes easy to you... Do it.
Then there was a hand on his arm, just above his elbow where his pulse beat closest to the skin. Warm, but firm, it took hold almost painfully as another voice spoke, breaking through the rest.
And it all fell silent.
Mal looked down, into another pair of dark eyes and saw the urgent fear hiding behind stalwart determination. Inara was staring up at him, unblinking.
A strength inside like I'd never known...Opened the door to life and let it go...
The other voice was fading away, but took one last stab.
It's in you... it will never be completely gone...
"The gorram hell're you doing?" Mal asked. He gave himself a little shake, blinked at Inara and looked past the top of her head at Armand who now stood staring at the floor. His left fist was curled over his mouth, pressing his lips solidly into his teeth as if he was trying to keep words from coming out. His right arm was secured against his chest in a sling, just as it had been when Mal first entered.
"You know you shouldn't be waving guns in here," Inara said.
Feeling very much like a chastised little kid, Mal glared down at her as he let his temper flare. "And it ain't never been your place to tell me what to do on my ship," he reminded her sternly. "Not to mention you ain't supposed to be in any engine rooms either--now that you're a bona fide passenger and all."
It stung her, as he intended it to. Taking a tighter hold of her wrist than was needed, Mal ripped her hand off his arm and gave her a little shove for good measure. It was to take her out of harm's way, should Armand get his senses back and try something stupid. The bald fury Mal saw in Inara's eyes told him she took it in an entirely different context, and his rough treatment served to startle her into taking him seriously.
Lifting herself into a companion’s regal pose, Inara’s icy glare told him he’d made his point. She still had to move past him to move back to stand with Kalee and Zoe, but she made sure to angle herself so that no part of her touched him as she did.
Mal nearly turned to watch her go, and stopped himself in time. He needed her to mind this time, he reminded himself firmly. So long as she was kept safe, Mal could be content with the notion that having to hurt her in the pursuit of that singular goal didn't matter in the slightest.
Right. Sure he could.
Armand had started rocking and spoke against his hand. "Green eyes... Brown eyes... brown coats... too much time..."
Looking up, Armand took in the muzzle of Mal's gun, and in a blink his eyes were on Mal's again. It wasn't the same this time--they even seemed lighter in color and held the same kind of tenuous fear that Mal had seen in River's eyes during the more coherent moments that tended to follow her more creepifying ones. Like Armand knew something had happened and that he was at its core, but couldn't begin to explain neither the what nor the why of it.
Armand's gaze skittered away again, past Mal's left shoulder. Only then did he seem to focus. Armand frowned in recognition and the fist shifted aside to allow him to speak. "R...Rene...?"
Mal felt the Acadian captain move up beside him.
"Oui, fre, il moi," Cariveau said.
For the first time since they found him in Zirondelle's engine room and the four days since, Armand actually smiled. "I thought... I thought you were part of it. Something they tried to... to..."
Then his face fell and it seemed like he was struggling to hold his burgeoning hopefulness in check. Moving toward them, ignoring Mal and his gun like they were both invisible, Armand went directly to Cariveau and reached out with one shaking hand. He moved like he didn't expect Cariveau to actually be there when his hand came in contact with the center of the Acadian captain's chest. Armand stared at his own hand as his stubby fingers spread out, then curled inward to dig into Cariveau’s chest. Armand frowned as words spilled out of him.
"What is truth and what is deception? A figment of imagination does not have the ability to transform to corporeal substance. Which came first--the falsehood, the memory or the fact?"
Mal dropped his gun to his side and took a couple steps off to Cariveau's right to get a better view of the spectacle, starkly reminded of the frantic moments right after River was taken out of cryogenic containment. He remembered thinking at the time it was like the girl was being reborn. This was something different, but not in any context that could be misconstrued as reassuring.
Cariveau was trying hard not to scowl at his old friend, to give him the most open expression he could, but the confusion in those expressive blue eyes of his was blatantly obvious. Nonetheless, when Armand touched him, Cariveau carefully covered that hand with his own.
Armand jumped at the touch and tried to pull away, but Cariveau held him fast until he stopped.
"Par la Providence," Armand whispered. Swallowing hard, his gaze was fixed on their hands. "They told me you were dead. They told me you were all dead. They keep saying it. Even now they say it... even now..."
"Fre," Cariveau whispered. "We're here. We're all here."
Armand was trembling all over and his eyes welled up with tears. One fell over, then another. "I saw you,” he said. “And then… I slept… and then when I woke up, you weren't there anymore. You weren't anywhere. They said you'd come back--Maman and Papa, they said it. But I couldn't believe them. Couldn't couldn't."
Cariveau lost his battle with the scowl. He tried to reach his other hand out to his friend, but the motion made Armand pull back so suddenly that Cariveau lost his grip. Armand returned his fist to his mouth again and sent several nervous glances around the room. At least his breathing seemed calmer. For almost a minute, it was the only sound to be heard in the engine room until Mal holstered his gun. Then every pair of eyes switched to him, except Armand's.
Mal's voice fairly boomed in the silence, though he kept the tone low. "If he gets another notion to wander, I'd prefer that it be from one end of a confined space to another--dong ma?"
Cariveau met his gaze and easily read the seriousness reflected there. Mal could also see that Cariveau understood that it was in everyone's best interests for Armand be kept under lock and key. What surprised Mal most, though, was that Cariveau wasn't the least bit upset by it. Far from it--in fact the man even seemed relieved.
Cariveau nodded in confirmation to Mal before he spoke to Armand. "Parti, Fre. Ce n'est pas l'endroit pour vous."
"Oui." Armand glanced up at his friend several times, then nodded succinctly and spoke with resignation. "Oui."
Cariveau held out one hand again. Armand gave it a suspicious look, but stepped forward anyway and let himself be taken in-hand. Cariveau was about to lead him away, but stopped when Armand pulled back and turned to look Mal in the eye again. His dark eyes squinted, then focused.
"It means everything everything. It always did," Armand said softly. "The fear is on both sides."
Then he let himself be led away, and Cariveau did it as quickly as he could.
Left in Serenity's eerily silent engine room, Mal turned to Kaylee who was looking at him with fearful eyes. Words spilled out as he went to her and put his hands on her slim shoulders. "Wo dui wo zuo de shi gandao hen houhui--Kaylee, we're good, right?"
Kaylee stayed still as stone, not even inclined to respond as she normally would to Mal's casual touch. When he looked into her eyes, Mal understood why.
It wasn't often Kaylee got mad. In general, she managed to avoid it altogether. So needless to say, on those extremely rare occasions, it was fairly easy to recognize. Since she was glaring at him now, Mal figured he'd stepped about as far across the line as he could, even further than that time back on Persephone when he said something unfortunate about the flouncey fancy layer-cake dress Kaylee had fallen head over heels for.
They'd traveled long enough together that Kaylee had seen him lose his temper and do one or two things that might be considered heinous if the welfare of the ship hadn't been the ultimate outcome. She'd forgiven him each time, but this was different. This time Mal was the one threatening Serenity, something that shook him down to the core whatever the circumstances. Kaylee wasn't likely to entertain any notion of forgiveness until Mal gave her a gorram good explanation either.
The problem being that Mal didn’t have one.
"It looked like he had you in a trance."
Hearing Inara's voice behind him, Mal turned to give her a long, dark look.
"I'm only telling you what I saw," Inara said defensively.
She wanted to say more, but deemed it prudent to hold her tongue and rightly so. She did it by sinking her teeth into her lower lip, something Mal had thought about doing himself a time or two. Standing in her presence again for the first time in days, with her looking as appealing as always and giving him the same mixed signals, did nothing but further incite his temper. Receptive as she was, Inara could easily see what was going on inside him, and that didn't help him much either. Nonetheless, it did inspire her to keep mum. For the moment, that was a good thing.
"Ain't never seen you like that, Cap'n," Kaylee said finally. Mal heard a tremor behind the fervor in her voice that betrayed her own heightened fear.
It's in you... it'll never be completely gone...
Mal swallowed hard as he turned to Kaylee. He held the girl’s gaze with is own, his voice lowered to a near-whisper as he told her, "I wouldn't shoot Serenity, Kaylee. You got my word on that."
Kaylee bit her lips, still staring at him, comprehending more than he ever meant her to.
"I know that, Cap'n," she said, nodding positively, but her eyes were still serious. "I just gotta wonder if you knew it, right then."
And the worst of it was, Mal couldn't say, one way or the other. So he turned to his first mate instead, who was giving him a look that clearly said she would also appreciate knowing the answer to Kaylee's concern. With Zoe, at least, Mal knew how to get out from under scrutiny.
"Zoë, go down and send the doc after Cariveau,” he said.
Zoë gave him a warning stare first--this ain't over--before she nodded sharply. "Yes sir." Reaching over, she took Kaylee's hand briefly, letting it go as she left the engine room.
Turning, Mal looked to Kaylee again, not at all sure what he could say to ease her mind. Kaylee folded her arms in front of her, her pretty mouth set in a fairly grim line. Mal’s mother had had a look like that one. The kind that made a fella feel insignificant and petulant all at the same time. It also meant she was done talking and he was supposed to go to his room and ponder his own shortcomings. Mal had to wonder now if his mother ever knew that right after he went to his room, he always ducked out the window and headed out to the climbing tree in the grove.
Mal took a long breath and dropped his gaze to the deck before he turned and left. Not entirely sure where he was headed, only that he couldn't stand next to Serenity's beating heart one second longer, knowing he how close he came to nearly silencing her for good.
* * *
"Now, you're just going to feel a tiny prick," Simon said. He took the hypodermic gun loaded with inoculant serum that was known as the “Blue Sun cocktail,” and double-checked the trigger dose. Then he swabbed the arm of one of Sayabec's elderly gentlemen with alcohol, pressed the gun to the parchment-like skin, and squeezed the trigger. "There."
Glancing up as he swabbed a second time, Simon saw that the gentleman, Mr. Trudeau was still looking at him rather suspiciously. Simon figured that word had long since gone around that he had been a doctor on the core worlds. He hadn’t said anything personally, but Simon knew his “core world manners” as Kaylee put it, often gave him away. The younger Sayabec generation seemed to be taking it better, and most were willing to forgive him for where he was born given the work he’d done to treat their loved ones when they came on board. The older generation had larger grudges to bear against the Alliance, and that kind of resentment didn’t rest easily.
Consequently, nothing Siobhan had said to Mr. Trudeau seemed to sway him from his opinion. In Simon’s experience inoculations weren’t the best form of peacemaking either, but at least when Siobhan was working with him the man actually spoke.
Siobhan had left only moments ago to check on her son, Armand, whom Simon had been keeping more or less tranquilized for the past four days. After trying every medication that had shown some effect on River, Simon had been forced to administer two of them to Armand at a fairly alarming dosage. Even then, the effects were not long lasting. To say that the last few days had been trying would be considered an understatement.
"You can roll your sleeve back down," Simon said, and tried the one French phrase he knew and could pronounce properly. "Merci pour votre patience."
Mr. Trudeau was not impressed, choosing to maintain his scowl as he put himself back to rights. He did take Simon’s hand to help himself down off the exam table, then stood ramrod straight, clutched his square hands on the lapels of his coat and headed out the door.
Simon sighed, and turned to jot down notes on the sheet he'd manufactured to track the inoculations going around the Sayabec passengers. He would use it later to create a simple database that would eventually tell him how much he’d given and how much was left. Odd that he found paperwork such a comforting staple in his life these days. Back at the hospital on Osiris, it had been the scourge of his existence. It seemed all things changed once one began traveling in the black.
Hearing footsteps, Simon looked up to see Siobhan returning at a run. The shawl-like scarf she wore flashed about her in a way that reminded Simon of an irritated sparrow.
“Siobhan, how--" was as far as Simon got in inquiring after Armand before she moved right into his personal space, keeping her voice low in deference to the patients still waiting outside. Simon glanced over her head to see three of them had bent to one side to watch them, hoping for some bit of gossip to send around.
“He’s gone,” Siobhan said, her voice tremulous and eyes wide with sheer panic.
Simon put a hand on her arm. “It’s all right, he can’t go far.”
The first step was to alert the captain, a task that would have to be done in person to keep the information contained, and Simon didn’t look forward to in the least. Knowing Reynolds, he was bound to fly off the handle at Simon about some part of it, if not now then later when he had time to do it “proper.” Still, it had to be done. Better that Reynolds take out his frustrations on Simon and track Armand down than to have Armand find some inane fault with someone else and try to cut it out of them. Simon was getting exceedingly weary of tying sutures.
Simon went to the meds cabinet and took out two vials of the medications he had been giving Armand, then grabbed a fresh hypodermic gun from the drawer directly below. Reynolds would bark about Simon tagging along to perform the sedation as well, but that too would be dealt with accordingly. Simon was also getting tired of pulling bullets out of muscle tissue.
“Keep administering the inoculations,” he told Siobhan. “We’ll need to finish before we reach Trahan.
“But what if he—“
“Siobhan, we need to finish,” Simon said. He turned to look at her, knowing that she at least recognized his authority as a doctor and well aware he was taking unfair advantage of her respect for his profession. It couldn’t be helped. “It’s better if we… if I do this. Dong ma? ”
Siobhan stared back at him, then finally nodded. He had been able to have long talks with her in regard to Armand over the past few days. Simon had shared more about River with Siobhan than he had with anyone--even Shepherd Book--to help her understand Armand’s state of mind. Simon’s only prayer now was that she would be able to put that knowledge to good use once they were off Serenity, and left to fend for themselves. It was like telling her that Armand had no chance for survival--one of the worst moments in any physician’s professional life--yet that too couldn’t be helped.
Simon nodded back and turned to head out to find the captain. Figuring he would go up to the cockpit and make his inquiries with Wash, Simon was at the foot of the rear access stairs that led directly up to the back hall on the upper deck just as Zoë came down.
"Doc--just coming to find you,” she said, and quickened her descent.
Since there seemed to be no such thing as coincidence on board Serenity so far as Simon was concerned, he figured there was no sense beating around the bush. “Where’s Armand?”
Zoë looked surprised, lowering her voice accordingly. “You knew he’d gone wandering?”
“Only just now,” Simon said. “Siobhan was helping me and went to check on him.”
“Thought she and her mister were taking turns,” Zoe said.
“They were. Cezar had to go over to Zirondelle for…” actually Simon realized he couldn’t remember exactly why. It sounded like some kind of pre-operation sequence, not unlike the kind that surgical nurses performed before a procedure. “He had to run through a checklist, I think.”
“So Armand was left alone?” Zoë asked.
“Only for a few minutes,” Simon said defensively. Then relented. “Okay, more than a few minutes.”
“Doc, he was up in the engine room,” Zoë said quietly, then raised a poignant eyebrow as she reiterated. “Our engine room.”
"Was Kaylee there?" The question was automatic, but utterly inane. Zoë’s answer came in the impatient look she gave him. After all, where else would Kaylee be?
His next question would have involved an inquiry after Kaylee, but given Zoë’s calm disposition and the lack of an emergency call, Simon surmised that nothing had gone amiss. That meant Kaylee had been left untouched by that lunatic. Whom did she have to thank for that, Simon wondered? Certainly not him, and she was probably better off since it seemed everything other thing he did or said around her just ended up making her mad at him.
Simon’s eyes were dark when he Looked at Zoë and asked a better question. “Where is he now?”
"Captain Cariveau took him across," Zoë said after a thoughtful pause, using the same tone she employed when reporting to Mal. "They're likely near the crew quarters on Zirondelle by now."
"Thank you." Simon turned away and started off at a quick clip. He noted that Zoë had looked a bit taken aback at his sudden fortitude, a rare reaction from a woman as formidable as she. Zoë had seen him doing his work as a physician several times in the past and would likely attribute his current single-minded focus to his Hippocratic Oath. However, what Simon was feeling at that moment had nothing to do with his pervasive healing instinct--far from it, in fact. Apparently, Zoë recognized the look. More to the point, she respected it.
Crossing the cargo bay was more akin to crossing an obstacle course these days. Simon had nearly gotten used to the hodgepodge of curtained living spaces, and to the kind faces that greeted him as he went by. Not wanting to alarm anyone, he did his best to return their greetings as amicably as possible. He'd seen how the Sayabec reacted to any threat exacted against one of their own and had no desire to evoke their protective instincts, which would likely hinder Simon in his chosen mission.
The smiles and warmth of the Sayabec also served to bring a significantly happier image of Kaylee to mind. Her lovely eyes and spontaneous smile; her brightness both in character and understanding--she was like a beautiful wildflower standing alone in a cool deep green meadow at the height of spring.
Before the encounter with Jubal Early, they had reached an understanding between them and Simon had begun to feel as if he could tell her anything. When she had asked him if there was anything on board Serenity that he was glad of, he hadn't been able to answer her, at least not as he would have liked thanks to Shepherd Book's untimely interruption. The opportunity hadn't presented itself again until the night she had come to tell him they were taking on passengers.
Five days ago
He woke up to the sound of knocking and wondered who it could be. It couldn't be River. Simon couldn't count how many times he'd come awake in the middle of the night with the intense feeling that someone was watching him and found River in his room. Once her face had been barely an inch from his, nearly scaring the fei-oo out of him. In the midst of inquiring as to whether she was ill or had another bad dream, he noticed she was grinning enormously.
"Si-mon has a see-cret," she sang, teasing him like they were kids again back on Osiris. Naturally, he blushed all the way down to his toes even when he pretended he didn't know what she was talking about.
He'd been dreaming—very vividly. He and Kaylee had been in the common area by the passenger dorm again, doing a lot more than just sitting. As far as he knew, River hadn't told anyone whatever she thought she knew, but Simon hadn't had dreams like that since he was a teenager.
There was a pause and Simon looked at the door to see someone standing outside. He watched a hand lift to the plastic panel again and knock a little less timidly the second time, followed by a soft voice.
“Simon? Simon, you awake? It’s Kaylee.”
Still half asleep, Simon blinked and saw her slender form silhouetted against the door. Making his way off his bunk, he padded barefoot across the room and slid it away to find Kaylee had bent over to bring her ear close to the plastic, like she was listening to see if he was awake. Consequently, her cheek came very close to his naked chest when he stepped into the doorway. She looked down, noted his bare feet and gray pajama bottoms, and gave her hair a little toss to move it out of the way as she straightened. It felt like silk against his skin and tickled a bit, causing his stomach muscles to clench.
“Kaylee, what... s'someone sick?” Not the first words he would have wanted to come out of his mouth if she ever came to his door, but he couldn't help it. The medical instincts always rushed forward first. Then he saw the way she smiled.
Slowly, her lips curved in appreciation of what she saw, and it took Simon a second to realize that what she was appreciating was him, standing half dressed and sleep rumpled in the doorway to his room. Actively resisting the ludicrous urge to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming again, his mouth went bone dry at the look in her eyes as she took her time, letting her gaze slide from his waistband and right on up. Dimly it occurred to him that his hair was probably messed up and he needed to shave, thoughts that vanished when she spoke.
“Well now. Ain’t you just all soft and tasty.”
Simon’s jaw dropped involuntarily as she grinned, no doubt delighted at catching him completely off his guard. "Kaylee... I... um... "
Of course she had to giggle. She couldn't just move smoothly into his arms like she had in the dream. Actually, in almost every dream he'd been having lately. Simon had to admit he liked the adorable wrinkle it put in her nose, though.
“Oh, stop your frettin'. Shame of it is I’m only here to fetch you for the captain. We met up with a ship in distress and we'll be taking on passengers soon. Could have some folks in need of doctoring.”
Business. She was here on business. Of course she was. “Right. I’ll get dressed.”
“Okay. I’ll wait. Cap'n said to make sure you have all the supplies you need.”
“Oh. Sure. Okay. I’ll be…I’ll be right back.”
“Mm-hm.” Her eyes wandering again, Kaylee was holding back another smile and failed miserably. Simon gave in before she did, blushing even deeper as he slid the door closed between them before he did something really stupid. Like kiss her.
Couldn't some good come out of surrendering everything he knew and everything he was for the sake of his sister? How many delusions of grandeur had he harbored when the opportunity came to him to rescue her? It was supposed to have been so easy--get River out, reunite with his brilliant little sister, live happily ever after, the end. If not for the gorram Alliance, that's how it would have been. That's how it should have been. Yet, if everything had gone the way that he planned, Simon never would have gotten to know the most amazing girl in the 'verse.
God did indeed have a quirky sense of humor.
Thinking back on when he first came on board and that Fed agent, Dobson, accidentally shot Kaylee, Simon felt the bitter sensation of shame that he had used her injury as a means to get himself and his sister as far from the core as possible. All he'd seen at the time was how much everyone on the crew cared for the girl and how that could be used to his advantage. Now that he and Kaylee had gotten much better acquainted, he understood how she inspired such affection and deeply regretted those malicious initial actions more than he could adequately express. Beyond violating his oath as a doctor, he had literally risked the life of an innocent, someone so precious that she made his heart stop just to look at her.
There was no way in heaven or hell that he was going to allow Kaylee to be hurt again. Not when he had the means to put a stop to it.
Not before he took his chance.
Once he was across the cargo bay, Simon's pace quickened. He could hear what sounded like two sets of footsteps up ahead and a male voice, soft and almost distant. The words spoken were in French, but exceedingly clear.
"Deux par deux, les mains de bleu."
Heartbroken: Meili Long - Part 3
Monday, February 27, 2006 10:45 AM
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