Mal was not one to be sitting around waiting to be rescued. He was the ‘act now, shoot now, fight now, ask questions later’ type of guy. Truth be told the only reason he hadn’t slit the throat of one of these hwoo dahn’s was because one he didn’t have a knife and two because it turned him on to no end to think of being rescued by Inara. That was the greater of the two reasons as to why he had waited this long without making a gorram move; would she even come?

She would never let him live it down, hell she would never let him die it down either, she’d follow him to the Gates just to see him squirm. ‘Mal the master escape artist being saved by a companion or as he would plainly put it, a whore’; he would never hear the end of it. Knowing she might have that little bit of power over him got him excited just thinking about it.

It would be a rare thing indeed because nobody in this ‘verse had power over Malcolm Reynolds, not even the gorram Alliance however much they might argue otherwise. He would never allow his underbelly to be shown to anyone, it made for too much of an easy target, but ‘Nara always found a way to expose his weaknesses. Damn he loved that women but hated what she did to him.

Mal’s life was confusing enough without that beautiful example of pure radiance causing him to have clouded vision. Mal was anything but a simple man, a fact not reflected in the simple life he led. True, he was a criminal but his life was very systematic, always had been.

First it was take care of the ranch and take care of Mama and when both disappeared from his life, wisps of what was, it became take care of himself, take care of Zoë, and take care of his platoon. When the war ended brutally it became take care of Serenity, take care of his crew; at times it seemed he wasn’t even doing that much. Now that Serenity housed his family it was get a job, make good on that job, get paid, and support his family the best he could.

Through the complex layers that folded around Mal to form the armor he wore everyday when he presented himself to the rest of the world, ‘Nara saw past the thick shell and to the real Mal that lay beneath. Even though the rest of the ‘verse might have seen Malcolm Reynolds as 10 feet tall and bulletproof, she saw a man with a tattered soul due in part because of the people he thought he had failed; especially the lost souls of the war.

Inara saw a true man who had a loyalty for those close to him that could not be undone; he would die for his crew. She saw the Malcolm Reynolds, whose heart thumped independent, refusing to let the innocent suffer and the powers that be destroy all things good in the ‘worlds’. She saw a strong soul who didn’t break even when the odds where against him. A man that had lost shattered pieces of himself, at Serenity Valley, but never broke because he needed to be strong for everyone else. Inara had seen him save countless others…

Now he wanted her to save him.

Call him a pervert, call him whatever you like, it didn’t matter because the truth was he was in love, and love is sometimes a constant factor in the brainless decisions we make. Mal had an inkling of how ‘Nara felt, hell she had come to rescue him before, but all that had happened before she said she was leaving.

If she came for him this time it would further solidify Mal’s inkling. Any connection he could create with Inara was a blessing in itself. Maybe if she saved him, saw him trapped like the way he was, it would open her eyes to how much he meant to her, how much she cared and she wouldn’t leave him.

The tactical-veteran-of a great-epic-war, inside of Mal knew he couldn’t wait any longer; he’d liked to be dead by the time the sun set. It would have been nice though seeing ‘Nara storming the castle and slaying the dragon so to speak, to save him.

If Mal set still any longer he was like to go crazy, a characteristic he heard wasn’t much fun to have or so was the talk about the ship.

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It took Jayne longer than he would ever like to admit, being that he was a mercenary and all, to actual find a way out of the ventilation shaft. On more than one occasion he had passed the same damn opening he had used to escape from his cramped cell to gain access to the ventilation shaft in the first place. The third time he passed the opening Jayne was beyond the point of having any calm; it had been damaged that badly. Jayne was a hairs breath from just trying to punch a hole in one of the panels encasing him in the metal tube. But didn’t go through with his plan because he had no idea what would be on the other side of any makeshift exit he might create.

Jayne was a mercenary, trained in the art of escape, but even with his keen eyes, the flaw in Jayne’s great escape plan was that he kept missing the panel indicating the end of the ventilation shaft and his inevitable exit. It was a mirage, not meant to be seen. The engineers, obviously men so smart they had more brains than body, built the undetectable exit precisely for the purpose Jayne had intended it for.

What used to be a high-tech-state of the art prison was now a raggedy abandoned facility but it still served the same purpose now as it did then; its were they where all being held captive.

At first the prison was built with no ventilation shafts at all but the prisoners kept dying of heat stroke; the atmo was that thick. The murky atmo captured the rays of the sun and any heat it radiated turning the air that blew around aimlessly into a makeshift oven. Eventually the men in charge got tired of having to explain to the ‘higher-ups’ why men in their capture simply kept dying because they didn’t have adequate enough air conditioning.

So the ventilation shafts where built to keep the prisoners alive long enough to get painfully tortured and rightfully handed the deaths they deserved. But soon after the shafts where erected, the prison kept losing more prisoners than was acceptable; they all began escaping through the ventilation shafts.

Change needed to be made and quick, that’s why the engineers built the mirage that was in actuality the exit out of the shaft. They placed a panel that looked like it would be the exit at the left side of the last narrow passageway in the network of shafts, this panel just led the ‘escapee’ back to where the shaft began, ultimately they would be traveling ‘round in circles before getting caught and severely punished. The real exit was disguised by a highly developed hologram so that it was displayed as a solid piece of metal, no living soul would take notice of it; it was that well crafted.

Jayne wouldn’t have noticed it either and would have traveled around in endless circles, lest he got caught, but a tiny monochrome flicker was caught out of the corner of his eye and he turned his body fully to get a better look at the source of the discrepancy. The wall in front of him sputtered erratically, pausing now and again to give the illusion of a wall once more.

A normal man might have chalked it up to overexertion, but Jayne was positive the possessed wall held the key to his escape and wasn’t about to give up that easily. When the wall jutted to life again Jayne glimpsed the distinct form of an outward facing panel lurking beneath what looked like the solid wall.

The prison had been around for along time, the engineers who had first built the hide-away exit where long dead, there was no one left to follow in their footsteps and continue their work.15 years without maintenance was sure to send any machine into haywire-mode, it was just Jayne’s luck he was present to see the hologram malfunctioning.

Jayne pressed his big hand against the illusion; it fell right through like nothing was there at all. His hand continued to fall through the holographic wall until it hit the solid form behind it. Next Jayne cautiously placed his head through the holographic image until he could see the outward facing panel without the interruption of sputtering lights. Once his head was through Jayne waited to see if anything would happen; it could be a trap. Moments elapsed and when no harm came to Jayne’s head and hand he passed the rest of his body through the hologram and grabbed hold of the latch locking the panel in place.

He cradled the latch between his thumb and forefinger turning it clockwise until he heard it click. Jayne pressed both hands flat against the panel and push hard against the cool section; nothing happened. He tried again and a faint squeak escaped from the panel as it stood firm against the strain Jayne placed on it, yet it still did not budge. Jayne leaned back on with his hands pushing on the floor and with all of his might he kicked the panel open with his feet.

Jayne cautiously stuck his head out the empty space that used to accommodate the panel and looked down. It was a long way down, for a man who lived on a spaceship Jayne sure had a funny reaction to the height that separated him from the ground and to freedom.

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The second time Zoë made a full circle around the network of shafts she stopped and decided there was no way she was going to continue on the same route she kept taking. It was obviously leading her nowhere except to the same place she had already traveled once over. Every start had a finish, and there had never been a ventilation shaft she been known to navigate that went around in continuous circles. There was a solution to this problem, she just had to look hard enough, and that’s exactly what she did.

Zoë was back at the beginning of the shaft and she continued from that point until she came to the last passageway of the shafts, systematically running her hands over every inch of every wall. She patiently placed her hands across the metal searching for any hidden buttons, levers, cracks; for anything that would aide her in escaping from this labyrinth.

It was her methodic precision that lead her to find the hologram. She didn’t get lucky like Jayne; hers was a tedious task that paid off when her fingers slipped through the hologram by accident.

Once Zoë’s fingers seeped into the hologram the disturbance of her fingers presence caused a rippling affect to the false wall. This worked out well to Zoe’s advantage because the motion offset by the now vivacious ripples outlined the entire section of the counterfeit wall. She could clearly see where she ought to be going.

Zoë vigilantly and with excellent grace stepped into the hologram, silently preparing herself for any danger that could present itself on the other side. There was no danger of any kind lurking beyond the hologram which made Zoë release the tension in her shoulders as she relaxed her arms at her sides; she still had her guards up though.

Apparently someone had already ventured this way or so Zoë concluded as she stuck her head out of the empty hole and saw the remains of the panel that once stood here shattered on the ground below. Maybe it had been Mal or Jayne; she hoped it had been Mal or Jayne, her only way out was down and she did not like the idea of a possible ambush waiting to greet her when she reached the bottom.

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The lighting in the cell had been very dark and both Kaylee and Wash squinted at the wave of bright illumination that welcomed them as the man with the big gun hauled the pair from their chamber. He marched them down the length of the corridor, his gun never wavering an inch or so Kaylee noted, until they reached a section in the hall that split off into two directions. One going left and the other traveling right.

The trio took the turn on the right another fact Kaylee noted, just in case there was a need for a hasty escape; it was always good to have a nice idea of where you were going. This hwoo dahn was leading them deeper into this creepy asylum. If the time came she wanted to be able to flee in the right direction.

The small group walked further on and the further on they walked, the creepier the place kept getting. Besides the massive infestation of every possible disgusting creature Kaylee could think of, the walls were corroded and charred past the point of pleasant. The whole structure seemed to be supported by rotten wood, with patches of broken bricks and mortar strewn about; it was liked to cave in on itself at any second. If there was an actual place in the ‘verse that resembled Hell this was it; it embodied dreary.

Kaylee hung close to Wash; he was her only source of comfort in this bleak situation.

Wash was starting to get worried now, where ever this man was taking them couldn’t be good. If this was the layout thus far, he had little hope that it was going to get better or that the people in charge were going to be the friendly houseguests he was expecting them to be. This place sucked, no it really sucked, Wash was sure he had seen it before; yes, it was in a nightmare he had once. Except there was no boogey man, just some overly masculine, muscular, meat-head of an ass sticking his big gun sporadically in his back, urging him to hurry up.

Getting poked in the back every five seconds didn’t help in the ‘getting Wash to go faster’ theory, it just made him stumble at times causing him to go even slower. Every time Wash stumbled ‘big man with gun’ let out a string of Chinese curse words to show his disapproval of the pilot’s clumsiness.

“You know if you stop poking me, we’d go a lot faster.” Wash said.

“And if you moved your legs faster, we’d go a lot faster.” The big man replied.

“Good observation, don’t tell me, you we the smartest kid in your class. I can just see it now, you in a cute witty bitty outfit with matching hat, listening intently to the teacher as you tapped your cute witty bitty gun on your desk” Wash countered.

“I ain’t a never had no skooling.” The big man said.

“Really, I would have never guessed!” Wash stated with mock surprise.

“Pretty soon you ain’t gonna have to worry ‘bout walkin’ cause I’m seconds from blowin’ off both your gorram legs, if’n you don’t shut the hell up.”

“One more thing before I shut the hell up…” Wash never finished his sentenced because he was struck dumb by the sight that lay before him.

They had reached the end of another long corridor which now spread out to an open space and held the disturbing image that they now looked upon.

A bloody battered man was bound to one of the rotten planks of wood that held up the structure. His flesh was ragged and torn, pieces of loose skin hung like autumn leaves off his body, blood collecting at the tips of fleshy tissue before oozing out of open wounds, only to flow freely like a raging river across his body. Both his eyes were close, but not because he wanted them to be. Dark deep bruises stained visibly beneath each eye as vile pus gushed out the corners of his closed lids. This man was broken maybe past the point of repair, only a doctor could tell. Kaylee let out a suppressed cry as the hot tears began to roll down her face. And for the first time in his life Wash was speechless; why would someone do such a thing?

The decrepit man was finally cut down from his pedestal of death when he shook with convulsions; a sign his body could take no more. Once the man was cut down he was drug away to a location unknown to both Kaylee and Wash.

The dead chill that hung in the air and the silence that had engulfed them was finally broken when ‘big man with gun’ said “Who’s next?” his question directed to Kaylee and Wash. Before either them could escape they where being tied to the same post the bloody man before them had just been cut down from.

“Wash, I’m scared.’

“Me to Kaylee, me too.”

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River’s eyes were heavy with exhaustion and she kept drifting in and out of the realms of asleep and a wake. River finally let herself go to sleep but it wasn’t even an hour later that she woke up screaming. “Cut them down, Cut them down. Please God make me a sword, swift and sharp, please God cut them down.” Over and over River repeated this plea but she never became a sword much to her frustration.

Her pleas became so loud and frantic she could no longer be ignored. A woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform came into River’s cell, holding a large needle which only made River react more hysterical.

“River, darling I’m here to help you.” The women said soothingly, but River wasn’t buying it, the big gorram needle in her hand said otherwise. “No, no, leave me alone.”

The nurse carrying the gigantic needle had no chance to calm River down on her own; she would have ended up face down of the floor with that needle sticking in her neck.

But they knew who River was, what River was and were taking no chances. Three oversized men pinned River down, she fought ferociously but she was overpowered, and finally subdued as the nurse bent down and shoved the needle forcibly into her arm.

When River had stopped screaming, everyone took their leave and once again River was all alone in her tiny cell. Although her voice was low River still continued her pleas to God sure that he would hear her. “Please God make me a bird, so I can swoop down, collect my little chickadees and fly home. Please God make me a bird, so I can swoop down, collect my little chickadees and fly home. Please God make me a bird…”

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Serenity still lay in the same place she was discarded in, the same exact spot she was in when the crew got took. She was parked with the hope of someone coming to find her and start her back up to life because there was no way she was leaving without her crew. Hopefully no vultures got to the ship before any of the crew could come and save her. She was Mal’s baby and all of their lives; without her there was no them. Mal bought Serenity under the belief that she would bring him a better life and she had; she ultimately brought him all the people he cared about in the ‘verse.

She never once abandoned him, he likewise would never abandoned her, he would die before he let that happened; he would die if that’s what it meant to keep her his. Too many memories had played out in this tiny ship; they stained the hull and every bulkhead with their presence. Serenity was a time capsule of the crew’s time together and a reminder of what makes a home, a home. She was the first place they had all became a family and the last place they had been together before the gaping black hole in the ‘verse sucked them all out and placed them onto different paths.