Chapter Four: Gabriel and Comworth both stood and walked over to discover what had upset Regan enough for the protective mother to drag her daughter out of bed. Simon was pinned in the armchair by innocent River, who had been thrust so close to him, forced to stare at the red scars running up and down her arm. "I told her," River assured her brother, who was as pained at seeing the arms now as he had been when putting the cream on them. "Punishment. She didn't believe me. She said it wasn't right." "This looks like abuse, Simon," Gabriel said with a just anger. "Those criminals you've been cavorting with . . ." "They didn't do it," Simon said, wishing he could stand and look his father in the eye. "I didn't do it. River did it." "River cut herself?" Regan said. "Simon, how could you . . ." "But I did," the girl said, trying to turn to her mother. Regan, however, was behind her daughter, so she ended up talking primarily to Governor Comworth. "Simon wouldn't punish me--he couldn't. I did it. I kissed a boy and I . . . I fell over the waterfall." "Fell over a waterfall?" Gabriel demanded of his son. "It's a metaphor," Simon sighed. "That's practically the only way she speaks anymore. Haven't you noticed?" "River, you told me it was a punishment," Regan said, spinning her daughter around so that the tips of her brown hair flew in Simon's face. "It was," River insisted. "I thought it was. I was confused." "Confused?" Gabriel harrumphed. "What do you mean? You don’t remember who cut you?" “I remember,” River said. “I remember everything.” “River, who did this?” Regan pleaded. “Was it Simon? Was it one of his bad friends? River laughed. “They’re not his friends,” she said. “They pity us, they adore us, they respect us, they mock us. You mix it up, it doesn’t turn into friendship.” “River,” Simon said although he didn’t know why. She turned to look at him and smiled softly. “They’re better than friends, aren’t they?” She asked. “They’re like a family.” Simon smiled sadly back up at her and nodded, “They are like a family.” “Did someone in this family do this to you River?” Gabriel asked again. “River did it,” the girl said. “For punishment.” “Do you want an explanation?” Simon said, from behind his sister, “Or are you going to continue asking River questions?” “River can speak for herself,” Regan said. Simon didn’t respond. He figured they could talk to River for as long as they liked, but eventually they were going to need him to make what sense was to be made out of what she said. He didn’t worry for a second that she’d betray the crew of Serenity. She’d promised, sort of, and Simon trusted her implicitly. While the adults tried to understand what she said, he might as well enjoy his coffee, which was just about at the perfect temperature by now. “River, dear, please can you tell me exactly what happened, sweetheart?” Regan asked, a little desperately. “Why does Simon get a drink?” the girl said, looking again over her shoulder at her brother. “You never mind Simon,” Gabriel said, taking his daughter by the shoulders and leading her over to the couch. He plopped her down, and he and Regan sat on either side. “I could get you something, sweetheart,” Comworth offered. “Not coffee, but perhaps hot chocolate?” “See, Simon,” River said, leaning forward away from her parents, “I told you Uncle Reggie would have Hot chocolate!” “Yes, River, you did,” Simon nodded. “But no tag, though,” the girl sighed, leaning back into the couch. She turned to her parents, “Genie has to be a lady.” “River, please,” Regan pleaded. “Tell us what happened to your arms.” “I told you,” River said. She seemed baffled that her parents hadn’t picked up on her explanation the first time. “I had to be punished.” “What for?” Gabriel asked. “Jack,” River said warmly. “I thought I was bad, but Simon was sinking.” She leaned forward a little and started to whisper, as if she was afraid they’d be overheard, “He said they were wrong. He said that . . . that Jack was ok.” She leaned back again and smiled. Her voice was warm and happy again, “Simon said that.” “Who’s Jack?” Gabriel said. “He’s got brown eyes and short hair,” the girl said, her voice dreamy as she blushed prettily. “He dances and he laughs, and he doesn’t think mean things ever, and he smiles at me.” That was not the answer her father was looking for. “Simon,” he sapped. “Who is Jack?” “Jack,” the boy said, looking up from his coffee. “Is everything River said. He’s a boy, about her age. They danced, they played, innocently, and they kissed, again, innocently. But River, she . . . what they did to her, for three years . . . she didn’t know how to deal with her emotions.” “And you expect us to believe that she cut her own arms because she kissed a boy?” Gabriel said. “Simon, that is sick.” “No argument here,” the boy said. “How could you?” Regan gasped. “I thought you loved your sister. I thought what you did, however wrong, was out of love.” “She told you,” Simon said, trying not to show how crushed he was by his parents’ lack of trust. He knew he’d done things they saw as horrid. He knew they wouldn’t understand. But he hadn’t realized that they could ever even think that he’d hurt River. If they could think that of him, Simon realized, they probably could, and did, imagine a host of other terrible things about his character. “She did it to herself. I . . . I stopped her.” “No, you didn’t,” River laughed. “Ca . . .he did. You know, HIM.” “I know, River,” Simon nodded. He felt like he was going to start crying. He took another deep drink of his coffee and hoped no one noticed. “Here you are, River, dear,” Comworth said, handing the young girl a cup exactly like Simon’s only filled with creamy hot chocolate. “Thank you, Uncle Reggie,” River said sweetly. “You give good treats. We always said.” “You’re welcome,” Comworth said, smiling at her. “River, will you promise to tell me the absolute truth, no metaphors or lies, no matter what.” “No,” River said as her smile slipped and her pretty brow furrowed. “She can’t make promises. They won’t let her keep them. And if a train leaves from Ariel moving at three hundred kph and another train leaves two hours later from Persephone moving at six hundred kph they’ll crash and everyone will die.” “That’s not very pleasant, River,” Gabriel said. “Uncle Reggie just gave you a drink. Be polite.” “I’m trying to explain,” River said. “I don’t want anyone to die.” “No one wants anyone to die,” Comworth soothed. “We just want you to tell us plainly how your came to hurt your arms.” River’s mouth twisted itself into a frown and tears started to well up in her eyes. “I told you, over again and twice. I apologized and I didn’t do it again.” “It’s all right, River,” Simon said, quickly putting down his coffee cup and rushing over to his sister. As he fell onto his knees in front of her, he marveled that no one had yet stopped him. “It’s not all right!” River screeched. She was starting to shake. Simon quickly grabbed the hot chocolate, which was being shaken out of the cup and raining into the saucer, and put it on the floor behind him, vaguely registering that his godfather picked it up and placed it on the coffee table. “They don’t believe me! They think I’m a liar, that I spin stories like old spiders spin webs! They think they’re a trap and if you get caught the black monster with a million eyes and eight legs comes and you get eaten. Simon, I don’t want to die!” “You’re not going to die, River,” Simon said, holding his sister’s hands firmly in his, her eyes locked with his. “You know you are safe here.” “I can’t answer any more,” River said, her little well of anger lapsing out into just sadness. “I can’t.” “No more questions,” Simon promised her, asking in the same breath, “Do you want to finish your hot chocolate?” “Too sweet,” River sniffed. “I like what we have at home.” Simon smiled up at his sister, and wiped a tear off her cheek. “It’s time for bed, mei mei. It was time for bed a while ago.” “I don’t wanna sleep,” River said. “I ran out, remember.” “I remember.” “They’ll get me at night.” “No, they won’t,” Simon said. “Because you’re here. It’s safe here.” “You don’t believe that,” River said. “You do.” “Will you come, if I have . . . if they . . .” she said, too afraid of her own nightmares to finish the sentence. “That’s up to Mom and Dad,” Simon said, for the first time breaking eye contact with his sister and glancing to his father on her right and his mother on her left, both of whom where watching the whole interaction with confusion and concern. “They don’t believe, do they?” River asked, leaning forward, whispering. “They played ball in the house and the pretty vase got broken. They think it can be glued back together. But it can’t, too many pieces. And you try to pick them up but there’re sharp and you cut your fingers and blood leaks out all over the clean white carpeting.” “River, it’s all right,” Simon said, reaching up and gently touching her face. She leaned into the touch and smiled, even as she was crying. “Now three things are ruined,” River said. “The pretty vase, the white carpet, and you.” “She’s talking gibberish,” Gabriel said, breaking the enchantment River had spun over the room. Everyone but River took a deep breath, as if they’d been holding it through the girl’s tirade. And everyone’s but River’s eyes fell quickly to the ground, a way from the girl’s pretty face. “River, dear, your brother is right; it’s time for bed,” Regan said, wrapping her arms around the girl and pulling her up. “Can’t sleep,” River said. “The walls are too thick and the hallways are too long.” “It will be all right, River,” Simon said, standing and stepping out of the way, allowing for his mother and sister to glide out of the room. “Of course it will,” Regan said. “I’ll sleep with you. I’ll keep you safe. Mother’s are much better than brothers at keeping the nightmares away.” River regarded her mother skeptically as they exited. “You can’t see the monsters you don’t believe in,” she told the elder woman. “That’s the trick, how they get you; they make it so you don’t believe.” “A mother can scare away any monster,” Regan assured her daughter as they left the room. “Not a monster you don’t believe in,” River insisted, her voice made it clear how very afraid she was. “It’s how they get you. It’s their best trick.” There was a moment of silence as the men listened to ebbing intonations of River and Regan’s conversation drift down the hall. When they were truly gone, Simon took a deep breath and said, “I can explain the cuts.” “So you did cut her,” Gabriel said, looking at his son with a near passionate hatred. “No!” Simon insisted. “She did cut herself and if you will listen for a minute, I can tell you why.” “I have heard quite enough of your pathetic, obtuse explanations,” Gabriel said, his voice rising. “Now, stop,” Comworth interjected. “Simon hasn’t gotten much of a chance to explain anything.” “When we ask it of him, he refused,” Gabriel said. “Than perhaps we should take advantage of his offer,” Comworth insisted. “Just because he feels he’s finally constructed a good lie . . .” Gabriel started. “That’s hardly fair,” Comworth snapped, then turning to Simon, said, “Please, I want to hear a logical explanation of why River’s arms are covered in gashes.” Simon swallowed and took a deep breath. “That school . . .” “Oh, it’s the schools fault,” Gabriel interjected. “Perhaps the teachers cut her?” “Be quite,” Comworth told his old friend harshly. “They did experiments,” Simon said, raising his voice to match the other men’s. “They cut into her brain.” His father opened his mouth, undoubtedly to say something about how ridiculously paranoid his assertion was. Simon kept talking, didn’t give him a chance. “You don’t have to believe me. Bring in another doctor; have a neural scan done. There are scalpel scars riddling her gray matter. The amygdala is totally gone.” “What does that mean, Simon?” Comworth asked. “The amygdala coordinates the actions of the autonomic and endocrine systems and is involved in emotions,” Simon said, quoting perfectly from classical medical texts. “In layman’s tearms: it regulates your feelings, regulates your response to them. “She went off into the woods and she kissed a boy. I mean, there’s nothing--nothing terribly wrong with that. She’s seventeen, she should . . . I didn’t like it but it’s not my place to . . .” He cleared his throat, “Anyways, most people get a thrill out of doing something a little wrong, sneaking off and such. Most people have a moment of guilt, of self-realization, where they know they are acting irresponsibly, where they know they should be doing something else, and then they dismiss it. It adds to the thrill, often it creates the thrill. That’s what the amygdale can do. But River, she could dismiss her guilt, slight as I’m sure it was. It took over and she had to find a way to get rid of it. So, she punished herself.” “And you let her?” Gabriel accused. “No,” Simon said. “I told you, she was with a boy, off in the woods. I mean, I wasn’t far, within earshot, but I couldn’t . . . anyways, I heard her scream and ran to find her. When I did she was in the middle of cutting herself.” “But you didn’t stop her,” Comworth said. “She said he did. Who’s he?” “He is one of the criminals I’m not going to betray,” Simon said flatly. “He did stop her, I . . . I was a little shocked, by her actions. He’s . . . he’s very good at not being shocked, doing what’s right and not hesitating. I would have stopped her, as soon as my emotions caught up to my brain. A few seconds. That probably sounds like an excuse to you, and maybe it is. But, if you think it’s hard to look at her arms now, you should have seen them covered in blood, with this sharp bloody rock in her hand . . . and the things she was chanting . . .” “I’m not a doctor,” Comworth said. “Nor an expert on human nature. But, still, what you say sounds as reasonable as any other explanation I’ve entertained, a great deal more reasonable than most.” “Thank you, sir,” Simon said. His voice was hard and official but his eyes spoke the depths of his gratitude. “We’ll find a doctor tomorrow,” Gabriel said. “Have a brain scan done. See if your story holds any water.” “Thank you,” Simon said again. “I don’t expect to find anything,” Gabriel said. “Just so you know.” “As long as you accept what is found, I’ll be thrilled,” Simon said. “Finally,” Comworth sighed. “Something resembling a civilized understanding.”

TUESDAY Mal was having a bad day. Newhope’s warm, summer-like autumn had turned to a cold-rainy autumn over night and the captain couldn’t quite convince himself it wasn’t an omen. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Kaylee stodgily refused to take no for an answer. “Ain’t right,” the young mechanic said. They were sitting alone in her parents’ kitchen with the gray sky clearly visible through the large windows, weighing down Mal’s spirits. “The tour thing was my idea! I got a right ta go and see it through.” “First of,” Mal said. “This here’s your family, and they miss ya. Don’t get to see them but for in a blue moon. Wouldn’t be right for me ta take you away.” “You ain’t takin’ me away,” Kaylee insisted. “I wanna go.” “Second off, you got hit pretty bad on the head not two days ago. Don’t want you risking . . .” “Risking what?” Kaylee demanded. “You think a guards just gonna konk me ‘cause that’s what governor’s guards do?” “I don’t appreciate that tone, Little Kaylee,” Mal said. “And I don’t appreciate bein’ left out like I ain’t part of the crew.” “That’s not what’s happenin’. This has got all the potential of bein’ a dangerous mission and you don’t go on dangerous missions.” “Preacher’s goin’,” Kaylee asserted frankly. “And Zoë, though she’s pregnant, and Wash.” “Now, Preacher and Zoë are just for recon.” “Then I can be for recon.” “Kaylee,” Mal said as firmly as he could. “The answer’s no.” “Cap,” the girl said, the firmness in his voice totally irrelevant. “I was the one ta be there when they got snatched. I’d kinda like ta be there when they got rescued.” “That’s a fair enough request,” Mal said. “But I’m still gonna say no.” “I’m goin’,” Kaylee said, resolutely. “And ‘less you plan on tyin’ me up and lockin’ me in Serenity’s hold . . .” Her voice trailed off as the kitchen door opened and a drenched Wash and Zoë entered the warm and dry house. “Fei yi suo si hun luan, hun luan zhi gou ji mao, ” Wash spat as he shook the water off his black raincoat. “Wasn’t it nice yesterday?” “As I recall,” Zoë said as her husband helped her take off her own green and brown camouflaged raincoat. “Ah, Zoë, Wash!” Mal said, quite relived to have this particular conversation interrupted. “You got them tickets?” “Yes, sir,” the firstmate said, smiling in a way Mal didn’t quit understand. But then, the woman was pregnant and that had been known to change dispositions and temperaments, so he pretend he hadn’t noticed it. “Yeah,” Wash echoed, he was also smiling more than the situation called for, especially considering his flightsuit had gotten soaked in the torrent outside, but then, he was Wash; Mal knew better than to ask. “So you see there, Kaylee, tickets ta Du Cheng been bought and paid for.” “How many tickets ya got, Zo?” Kaylee asked, not quite innocently. “Six,” Zoë said, quite innocently. At Mal’s scowl her smile, odd as it was, faded, as did her husband’s. “What’s wrong?” She asked. “There’s only five of us goin’, Zoë,” Mal said. “Wait,” Wash said, holding up his hands and counting on her fingers. “There’s you and Zoë and me. Then Jayne and Book and Kaylee. That’s six by my count.” “Kaylee ain’t goin’,” Mal said. “We discussed it.” “Did we?” Zoë said, staring at her captain with what seemed for all the ‘verse like genuine bewilderment. “I was sure she was commin’,” Wash insisted. “What with her bein’ there when the Tams got snatched and the tour thing bein’ her idea and all.” “Well,” Mal grumbled. “We’ll just have to return the extra ticket when we go—” “Ah, can’t, sir,” Zoë said, the hint of her odd smile returning to her eyes but her voice remained stoic and professional. “No, refunds, sir.” “Oh, ho-oh,” Mal laughed bitterly, glancing at Zoë and her weird smile, then at Wash, then at Kaylee. “Is it just me, or am I in the middle of an ambush?” “Ya don’t wanna waste the train fare, do ya, Cap?” Kaylee asked, looking as sweet and childish and innocent as a newborn lamb. “Them tickets ta Du Cheng been bought and paid for.” Mal glared again, from Zoë to Wash to Kaylee. They were all smiling at him, looking eager and hopeful, like children in front of a candy story with shiny silver dollars in their grubby little fists. They knew they were going to get what they wanted. “When’s the train leaving?” he asked gruffly. “9:45,” Wash said, smiling at Mal as if this tidbit of information would push the other man over the edge into generosity. “Well, then,” Mal grumbled, “Y’all better be off packin’ your bags. We leave for the station in an hour.” “Now, Cap,” Kaylee said, taking a step forward. “When you said ‘y’all’ . . .” “You, too,” Mal said grudgingly. “Oh!” The girl said with a gasp as she threw herself at Mal, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him adoringly on the cheek. “Thanks Cap’n!” “Don’t you be mentioning it,” Mal said, pushing the girl away and trying to stay upset at his crew for their not so subtle manipulations. “Now get.” “Shieh-shieh, ” the girl giggled. “Quick as a stitch.” Then, she pattered off and up the stairs to pack the required over-night bag, leaving Mal alone with Wash and Zoë, who both were now smiling quite normally. “Oh, this is gonna be a fun trip,” Wash said excitedly. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I slept in a hotel.” “Oh, yeah,” Zoë said with a sigh. “Captain, you think we could find a place with a bath?” Mal stared at the two lovers, so smugly content with their trick and in their excitement that they didn’t even see how very close to going back to plan A (jumping into Serenity, flying over the Governor’s villa and forcibly abducting the Tams) he was, just to spite them all. But Mal, who knew a good plan when he saw it, figured it’d probably be good karma to submit to a good plan when it was played out on him. Little Kaylee was so happy, as were Zoë and Wash. He honestly couldn’t think of anything worse that could happen than having the three of them (Book too, if Mal knew the preacher) being contrary the whole time. * * * “Why don’t you like sugar in your coffee anymore?” Comworth asked, giving his godson a hot mug of steaming brew as the two sat and waited. River was having her brain scanned by the Governor’s private doctor in the Governor’s state-of-the-art private medical facility attached to the villa. Regan was in there, holding her daughter’s hand. Gabriel was standing over the doctor, looking over his shoulder, examining every piece of evidence, even thought he wouldn’t recognize an irregularity even if he could see it. So Simon and Comworth sat in the doctor’s office, a warm room, with wood paneling and bookshelves lined with back issues of medical journals Simon longed to read, and waited. “It’s just a preference,” Simon said. That was a lie. As soon as his attention had been drawn to the fact he no longer liked sugar in his coffee the back part of his mind had been musing over the fact, trying to dissect the subtle changes in his behavior. As much as he wanted it to be meaningless, he knew intrinsically that it wasn’t. Finally, late that night, as he’d wrestled with his sheets and strained his hearing to see if River was screaming his name in her night terrors, the answer had come to him. Sugar was expensive and a luxury. He’d never realized that, growing up, because his life has been a string of luxuries, but on Serenity, you made due with what you had. There was a pound of brown sugar kept in the back of the highest counter in the kitchen and brought out only for special occasions. And then there was some artificial type sweetener made of sucrose and fluoride. But it was unnaturally sweet and made Simon nauseous in even the smallest doses. After only a few months on Serenity, his life really had changed and as a result he really had changed. It felt like everything about him was different, and his parents had picked up on that too. What was even more frightening was the realization that he didn’t want to go back, that he considered every change for the better. He could shoot a gun at a man, he could lie, he could cheat, he could steal, and he had a sort of glowing pride in those facts. Even drinking coffee black had a sort of rugged, manly image associated with that he found he liked. He vaguely felt that these facts, these changes in him, should have concerned him more than it did; they certainly would have concerned his family, if he were ever to tell them. So Simon lied to his godfather, something he’d never thought he’d be able, or even want to do. “A meaningless preference.” “Of course,” Comworth said, accepting the little white lie as if it were truth. They sat in silence for a few minutes. “What did you do for your birthday?” Comworth asked so suddenly the boy winced. “What?” “I was just wondering, your birthday, you were . . . with them. What did you do?” “Nothing, really,” Simon said slowly. “You missed it?” “No,” Simon said. “There was a cake.” “Was it good?” Simon couldn’t help but smile, “Why are you even asking?” “I worry.” “You worry that I won’t have a birthday party.” “We were all worried, about everything.” Simon hung his head, “I know.” * * * It was raining in Du Cheng too. Dark and tumultuous clouds imposed themselves on the Governor’s villa and the afternoon tour group. There were many people in the group, all talking to each other in hushed voices, pointing, taking pictures. The Shepherd who was taking fastitidius notes in his guide book was noted, because a shepherd is always noted, and overlooked, because a shepherd is rarely doing anything worth seeing. The pretty young woman in the denim jumper was noted by all the males in the group. But because the majority of those men were with their wives and or mothers, none approached her and she, with her nearly obsessive picture taking, was more or less ignored. The plan went smooth until the tour was over and the group was being lead into the gift shop where they could buy guide books, models of the house and small tin soldiers fashioned after the governor’s guards. Shepherd Book was examining one such toy, considering buying it and then leaving it in the engine room for Kaylee to find. He wondered if she’d find it an amusing souvenir or a mean prank. He also played with the idea of leaving one in the infirmary for Simon to come across. Book could imagine the look of horror of being reminded of such a traumatic experience on the boy’s face. He couldn’t imagine that look of horror melting away into an amused smile. River, on the other hand, would probably adore the simple toy. Her mind was delightfully childish in its pleasures and she seemed to revel in irony. At least, that was his impression of her. But before he spent a whole dollar on this little tin man, he thought he’d better get a second opinion. He turned around and scanned the shop for Kaylee. The girl wasn’t there. He gravitated towards the exit, wandering if she’d left already. But she wasn’t there either. He wandered back, towards the entrance, hoping that something in the very front of the shop had caught the young girl’s eye. His hopes were dashed when he saw her, looking small and alone, being escorted away by two of the governor’s guards. For a long time the preacher just stared out the door, wondering what he should do. He could run out into the hall and demand why she was being arrested. It wouldn’t be too suspicious, one of the benefits of being a preacher was that everyone assumed that men of God had a right to stick their noses in other people’s business, or at least, no one had the guts to tell them to ‘zou kai’ . But Book knew how government institutions worked. He would be told that she was only wanted for questioning, that she would be fine, that if he was so concerned he could contact a public advocate and submit a writ of explanation to a judge who would review it within the seven days allotted by law and, if the writ was legitimate, the guards would be forced to reveal to him why they had arrested her, where they were keeping her, and how long they planed to have her. As poor Little Kaylee was hauled back into the depths of the governor’s mansion, probably into places they hadn’t seen on the tour, Book realized that it would be much better to slip out of the gift shop, unnoticed and unsuspected, and very quickly find Mal. And he did just that, not realizing until he was half way to small bar where they’d planned to meet, that he’d never paid for the little tin guard he still had clutched in his hands. * * * "Mr. and Mrs. Tam," Dr. Westland, Comworth's personal physician said as he walked into his office. He had a slow, deep, drawling voice particularly suited to putting patients to their ease. "Who, did you say, diagnosed your daughter?" "I did," Simon said. He was standing off to the side of the office with his godfather. His parents were now in the seats in front of the doctor's desk, and River was sitting, calmly and contently in her father's lap, her head resting on his shoulder. Westland looked over to Simon and smiled professionally, "Well, I agree with your diagnose. I've never seen anything like this but the evidence is unquestionable," he turned back to the Tams as he walked across the room and situated himself behind his desk. "Your daughter has indeed had intrusive brain surgery and, among other oddities, her amygdala is indeed missing." The elder doctor turned his attentions back to Simon. "Had you devised a treatment regiment of any kind?" "Ah," Simon said, pushing himself away from the bookshelves and taking a step closer to the desk. "Nothing overly successful. As you can imagine treatment of this sort of wound is unprecedented, I’ve had minimal success with anti-psychotics, for some reason a combination of vitamin C and hatzelbyprophaline seems to make a difference as far as the nightmares go, but she seems to require a dosage increase every two weeks or so." At this point the door to the office opened and a guard poked his head in, "Governor, sir," he said, drawing everyone's attention. "May I speak to you out here, sir?" "Of course," Comworth told the guard, and then, turning to Westland and the Tams, he said, "Excuse me," and ducked out of the room. "Humm," Westland said, pulling the attention back to the medical discussion. "Dosage increases every two weeks . . . not a long term solution. Have you considered a Brenzine and Tri-lippite combination? I hear that in cases of general psychoses they've proven very promising." "I didn't have access to any Brenzine," Simon said. This conversation was the first he'd had since Ariel where he felt like a real doctor, where his medical mind was being challenged on any level. And as his mother and father watched, the criminal-Simon Tam was transformed back to the eager eyed, brilliant young physician they remembered. "But I'd read the same thing. I tried a combination of tri-lippite and Philizine, hoping that, perhaps, the calcium-diclorate was an active agent, but after a week there was no change." "Am I to understand," Gabriel interjected. "That you've been pumping my daughter full of untested drugs?" "The drugs were not untested," Simon said. "They all had the official stamp of the Alliance Medical Academy." "Still," Regan said, reaching out and stroking her daughter's arm, although the girl seemed lost in a world of her own and was not responsive. "Mixing medications haphazardly." "There was nothing haphazard in your son's application of these medicines," Dr Westland assured them. "I've been practicing since before he was born and, to my knowledge, there is no other way to treat her." This would have been the perfect time to revel in his utter vindication, but his father didn't give him a chance. "Simon, these drugs, you said they were Alliance Certified." "Of course," Simon said cautiously. He could sense a trap. "Where did you get them?" "We stole them." Regan gasped, "Simon!" "Would you rather I used substandard medications?" Simon asked. "Or left River untreated?" Westland chuckled gravely, "And I thought the medical ethics scenarios we had in medacad were all far fetched." The door opened again and Comworth reentered, he looked anxious and, although he was addressing the elder Tams kept glancing at Simon. "There's been an interesting development; I was wondering if Simon here could come with me." "I was hoping to confer with Dr. Tam on a few more matters," Westland said, clearly disappointed. "I'll bring him back to you, I promise," Comworth said. "But I would like this matter settled as quickly as possible and I could not see my way through it without Simon's aid." "I suppose I could discuss treatment options with the girl's parents, but, still Dr. Tam's imput would be most profitable." "Those are not his discussions to make," Gabriel wrapping his hand around his daughter's head in a protective, possessive manner. "River is our daughter, we will decide what's best for her." As if in response to her father's assertion, the hitherto quiet River broke into chuckles and started muttering into her father's chest; "How different a wiley old magician Whose comic cosmos gives a thrill From my brother, sane physician: His words and work I trust, but still I sense a cruelty, unearned sedition Against him and his wisely given pill Regardless of a cavernous division Twixt what he may fix and what is ill. No one can see how sick I really am And even as he tries his very best With this and that, and another exam He will perform and ponder every test For I remain a sacrificial lamb Till he's found me quiet and I may rest" "River?" Regan said, reaching out towards her daughter again. "What a lovely poem, where did you learn it, sweetheart?" "Simon asked me," she said. "Then he asked me not to." She shifted, pushing her head off her father's shoulder so she could look at her brother. "What do you say?" "What I say doesn’t matter, River," Simon said. "Come now, Simon," Comworth said, touching the boy's shoulder and leading him out of the room. River watched, with mounting concern, as her brother left the room, and she felt cold chills run down her spine as the door was curtly closed. * * * "Kaylee," Simon said before he could think. The girl, whose back had been to him, turned around and an almost silly smile of relief spread across her face. She sprang out of the chair she'd been sitting in, one of two facing the Governor's desk in the large, familiar office. Once she reached him he could tell by her eyes that she longed to throw her arms around him, probably kiss him on the cheek. But he was followed closely by his godfather, and even Kaylee had enough decorum not to display her ferocious affections in front of such an important, dignified old man. She came up short, standing very close to him, and, looking like she was about to explode, said with a slightly trembling voice, "Simon, I'm so glad ta see ya." "Can't really say the same," Simon said, examining her with a clinical detachment brought on by shock. If she was here than all his efforts to keep Serenity a secret were for naught. His godfather must have figured out everything. Or, perhaps, he’d figured out nothing. True, she could have been hunted down as a member of Malcolm Reynold's crew, but what if River had been wrong and the guards had grabbed the mechanic when they took River and him? She was wearing the same pretty denim jumper she'd worn on Sunday, such a very long time ago, which seemed to support his theory, but she had a bright yellow raincoat over it even though the governor’s office was quite warm and dry. Her face was painted, making her eyes look bigger, deeper and her lips shimmered. He didn't know any words to describe how pretty she was. Her anxious face drove away a host of other practical thoughts. He was so glad to see her well, that he couldn’t really worry over how she’d gotten there, nor could he find it in himself to worry much over the implications of her presence. He reached out and very gently took her chin and tilted her head, with his other hand he brushed away her soft hair so that he could examine the large greenish bruise on the side of her head. "They did this to you?" "Yeah," his touch seemed to relax her, as if it proved he was real and she didn't have to be afraid. "Had a concussion and everything. Threw up all over the Cap'n. He was real sweet 'bout it though." Simon laughed and dropped her chin, letting his hands slide down the length of her arms until the found her hands. "I am . . . am glad to see you're all right. River told me you'd been hit on the head and . . ." "They hit you?" Kaylee asked. "What?" Simon said. "Well, yes, but . . ." "Ouch," Kaylee said, pulling one of her hands away from his so she could point to the dark cut over his right eye. “That was actually River,” Simon said with a wry smile. “She ok?” Kaylee asked, taking a step back and looking around. “She around?” “She is around . . .” Simon said turning his head so he could look in the direction he’d just come, look back towards River. “I’m not sure whether she’ll be all right or not.” As the boy’s gaze shifted the girl’s followed and they both suddenly became aware of the governor standing, watching their interaction with great interest. Simon blushed, slightly embarrassed, and took a step away from the pretty girl, letting her hands fall to her sides. Kaylee gasped and her now free hands flew to her mouth as she took a terrified step back. “Kaylee,” Simon said, quickly putting a comforting, platonic hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid. This is my godfather.” “I know just who that is,” Kaylee said, looking at the governor with an odd combination of timidity and boldness. Her hands sunk from her mouth and remained together, tightly clasped, primly in front of her. As if taking a cue from the young girl, Comworth’s disposition became very formal, almost grave. “Simon, do you intend to introduce us?” “Um, of course,” the boy said, feeling oddly out of place and fighting the inexplicable and somewhat inappropriate urge to laugh. “Kaylee, this is my godfather, Governor Reginald Comworth. Sir, this is my, well, my friend, Miss Kaylee Frye.” “Would you two please sit?” Comworth said, motioning to the chairs in front of his desk. Kaylee glanced up at Simon, who used his hand, lingering on her shoulder, to guide her gently towards a chair. Once seated he couldn’t keep from glancing over towards her. She looked so out of place, in her simple denim dress and her bright raincoat. For a second he imagined her in that pink atrocity she’d worn to the ball on Persephone. It was slightly more appropriate or, at least, it was something formal. But that seemed even more ridiculous. As pretty as she’d looked in that, she’d looked silly as well, like a little child, and right now Simon need Kaylee to be a lady. “Miss Frye,” Comworth said, leaning forward genteelly. “Would you like some tea or coffee on this cold and rainy day?” “Ah,” Kaylee said as she glanced to Simon, her eyes begging help. She seemed unsure whether she’d be considered rude if she declined the governor’s offer or greedy if she excepted it. Simon tried to look back encouragingly. Turning her attention back to the governor’s general direction, although she didn’t look directly at him. “No, no thank you.” Comworth looked at the girl and smiled, a gesture which only Simon saw, before turning to his godson, “And anything for you, my boy? Black coffee?” “I’m fine,” Simon said. “Well, then,” the governor said, leaning back in his chair and examining the two youths in front of him critically. His voice had a slightly colder tone in it than Simon had ever heard before, and his eyes were hard and distant. “I think that it is high time all this is clearly explained.” Simon stared at his godfather, stoically and silently; the sudden frigidity in the old man’s disposition was frightening him more than he wanted to let show. Kaylee shifted her eyes to her hands, nervously squeezing her left with her right forcefully enough to whiten her knuckles. “Neither of you are in a position to consider this a request,” Comworth warned. “I have many methods of discovering the truth, some of them very uncomfortable for all those involved, but I want to be told it, by my godson.” “Are you threatening us?” Simon asked. He was horrified at the prospect of all of Serenity’s secrets being unveiled before an Alliance Official who could only, in good conscious, turn the rouge-ship in. He was terrified at the thought of what some of those methods could be, especially considering that Kaylee would be the victim. But over all he was disgusted, and disappointed, and disillusioned, with his godfather, and those were the emotions that showed on his face. “I want you to tell me, Simon,” Comworth insisted harshly. “Until now I haven’t had a card to play, I dearly hoped that I wouldn’t need one, that you’d tell me of your own volition. But clearly, whatever bond of loyalty these criminals have inspired in you is stronger than our relationship, one I always thought you treasured.” “I do,” Simon insisted. “Then don’t make me –” Simon let out a bitter laugh, “Make you do what? Use an innocent girl as a trap to catch your own godson?” he stood up and leaned over the desk, letting his anger vent more than was prudent. “Use threats and manipulation and other forms of cruelty to get what you want, regardless of what’s right?” “Simon,” Kaylee whimpered fearfully. He felt her tug on his arm but he couldn’t look at her because if he did he knew her white face and trembling lips would make him want to comfort her, defuse his anger, and he couldn't afford to let that happen. “These games have gone on long enough,” Simon spat. “You’ve been pretending to treat me with respect and I believed it, believed you. But all the while you’ve been looking for your advantage. Finally, you’ve found her, congratulations. You win. I give up. Do what you’ve planed to, throw me to the Alliance, River too. We can be sacrifices to your career. It’s not much of a change. We’ve been sacrifices to our parent’s ambitions our whole lives. But Kaylee’s not part of this; no one from Serenity is. Let her go. Leave them alone!” “Why are you protecting them so fiercely?” Comworth asked calmly. “Because they protected me,” Simon said, his fire going out a little as he realized he said more than he meant to. “How many times am I going to have to explain this?” “Apparently, until I understand,” Comworth said, surprisingly not enraged by his godson’s outburst. His icy demeanor had melted and now he just looked sad and weary. His godfather’s lack of an emotional response was another blow to Simon’s state of mind. He took a step back and collapsed into the chair, feeling shaky and uncertain. There was a turbid silence, so thick that Simon didn’t believe Kaylee had broken it until he saw his godfather lean forward and say, “What was that, my dear?” “I’ll explain,” Kaylee said, her voice was trembling and her pale face made her makeup look all the more lovely. “Kaylee don’t . . .” Simon said halfheartedly. “You don’t wanna betray the Cap’n,” the mechanic said, turning to Simon silencing him with the conviction in her own eyes. “I an’t gonna, no fears. But the Gov’ner here he . . . well, I've never heard but that he's a fair man.” Simon folded his hands and pressed his lips in them in them, resting his chin on his thumbs. Kaylee shifted her plea to the older man. * * * “Mr. Comworth, Governor, sir, please. Give me chance ta explain as much as I can. If after I’m through ya still wanna hold me and torture me, or, whatever, I guess ya can, I mean,” She laughed nervously, “I ain’t got no power ta stop ya. But, please, just . . . just try ta listen, and understand, and see it from Simon’s point of view.” “That is a very tempting offer, young lady,” the governor said formally. “I’ll have to accept it.” “Be careful, Kaylee,” Simon warned. “Don’t . . .” “No worries, Hon,” the girl said, smiling at him with built up confidence. “I can tell a story.” “Well,” Comworth said, “Go on . . .” Kaylee took a deep breath and dove headfirst into the untold tail of Simon and River’s life on Serenity. “Ya know River’s nuts, right?” Kalyee started. “I mean, ya’v talked ta her, and such?” “Yes.” Comworth said. “Then, ya know why he took her,” Kaylee said, encouraged. “Why he had ta.” “I’m beginning to grasp his position,” Comworth said. “Although, it is not as easy as you make it out to be.” Kaylee didn’t seem exactly sure what that meant, she glanced at Simon. He had nothing to offer her so she took another deep breath and plunged into her story. “Our ship, it’s a freighter, never docks the same place twice. We was docked in one particular place when Simon came up and booked passage. It was the oddest thing, he was stickin’ out of the crowd like a sore thumb, ya know. Lookin’ all cagey and determined. When he talked ta me, ‘cause ya see, I’m the one in charge of the passengers, well, he was all business. How much, how far, how fast. Didn’t even notice me, didn’t notice the ship, didn’t notice the other passengers. “Weren’t half way to our destination when the pilot notices someone’s makin’ a transmission on the cortex, signaling an Alliance cruiser. Now, I don’t think I’ll be betrayin’ too much when I tell ya that our Cap’n, he fought for the Independence in the war. I mean, he’s not the kind of man who goes out an picks a fight over it no more . . . well, least not often, but still . . . he don’t like the Alliance. As I understand it, he went out ta see who was sendin’ the transmission and he found Simon, lookin’ after this big ol’ box he had in the cargo bay.” “Big old box?” Comworth asked, clearly confused. “It was River,” Simon said, interjecting into Kaylee’s story. She sent him a charming smile and relinquished her role as storyteller graciously. “When I had . . . the men who told me they’d saved River, they sent me this little slip of paper for a warehouse on . . . on a planet far away from the core. They told me that I could pick her up any time in the next two weeks, but the sooner the better. They said the government was already hunting for her. “Well, I left immediately, as I’m sure you know. Got as many credits as I could and I disappeared. I traveled under a false name, went to the place they suggested, handed this . . . man my slip and they gave me a box. And I looked at it, this huge, gray box, and . . . all I had was the foolish hope that it was River inside it. All I could do was assume that it was. I took the box and I grabbed passage on the first ship I found, the first ship that would take me away, quickly, that wouldn’t ask and wouldn’t tell.” “A box?” Comworth asked, clearly confused. “It, it was a cryo box,” Kaylee clarified quickly. “I didn’t know till after, I don’t know that anyone did . . . I mean, any a the crew. I’m sure Simon . . .” “I hadn’t had much experience with them,” the boy said, surging his shoulders helplessly. “I . . . I didn’t know . . . it could have been a dog, for all I knew. It could have been the wrong person, you know, some other kid, not River. It could have been empty. I didn’t know until . . . until he opened it and she came out. I wanted to cry for joy, seeing her, but she was so, so frightened.” He smiled sadly to himself. “I thought it was just the shock of the situation. I thought it’d go away.” “And out of the kindness of his heart this captain said he’d hide the both of you.” “Ah . . .” Simon stammered. “Part where I was shot kinda got skipped,” Kaylee said. “Can I tell it?” “You were shot?” Comworth asked. “Yeah,” Kaylee nodded. “Tween when that transmission was sent and the box was open the guy who actually sent the transmission, this mole for the Alliance sent ta track down River, he shot me. Kinda on accident.” “Was he trying to shoot Simon?” “He weren’t a very good mole,” Kaylee said, shaking her head, as if she pitied poor Agent Dobbs. “Anyways, I was shot real bad and Simon, he saved my life.” “I made a deal, with the captain,” Simon said quickly. He felt it was very important that he remembered how this story had really happened. He didn’t want to let himself forget to whom he owed his safety at any given moment. “He wanted to turn me in. He knew the box, the box with River in it, had something to do with the whole mess, he would have turned that in too, just to avoid trouble. But Kaylee was bleeding to death. And I . . . I could save her. But I wouldn’t, not unless they agreed to hide me.” “That was hardly honorable,” Comworth said, sounding a little angry. “I know,” Simon nodded. “It weren’t his fault,” Kaylee said quickly. “Kaylee, you don’t have to . . .” “I do,” Kaylee said. “I’m startin’ ta see that your all about explainin’ yourself but ya don’t want ta defend yourself. Simon, ya saved my life, and ya saved Rivers. You gave up everything for her. How many times ya saved the captain’s life? Once? Twice?” “Well, he was . . . I mean, his wounds if left untreated could have . . . but I’m sure--” “And ya’ve saved Zoë’s life, and the preachers.” “No,” Simon corrected. “I was being burned at the stake when the Shepherd was shot.” “A shepherd was shot?” Comworth gasped and then, realizing, added, “Burned at the stake?” “Mr. Governor Comworth, sir,” Kaylee said, turning her lovely brown eyes to appeal to the older man. “Simon’s done a world of good for our ship. We want him back.” “I told him he could go back,” Comworth said. “An offer which still stands, if he wants to take it.” “Oh,” Kaylee said, clearly surprised. “Well, that’s real good then, ain’t it?” No one said anything. “Simon, why didn’t cha go?” “The offer was for me, Kaylee, not for River.” “Not for River,” the girl said slowly. “What, what’d happen ta her then, if . . . not for River?” “She’d be sent back,” Simon said. “Back?” Kaylee asked, making no pretences about sounding and looking upset. “Ta the Academy?” Simon nodded. “Ya can’t sir,” the girl said passionately, turning again to the governor. “She’s just a kid. Serenity ain’t perfect, and it ain’t always safe and it ain’t a fancy school. But it’s a place where no one’s gonna hurt her. Please, sir, we done so much ta try an’ keep them, Simon and River, I mean. Ya gotta let us keep them.” “You seem to think of them as an inseparable unit. I’ve told you, you can have Simon.” “Simon won’t come without River,” Kaylee said shaking her head. “Ya want one, gotta have them both. ‘Sides, we all want River anyways.” “Why?” Simon asked. He’d always assumed he was the useful one and the others tolerated River. Even Kaylee, who seemed to like his unusual sister, he suspected of being friendly out of obligation more than actual warm feelings. And if that was the case, he thought no less of the girl for it. He was just grateful that someone other than him was willing to be her friend. “She’s sweet,” Kaylee said, as if the answer was obvious. “She laughs, she dances, she looks pretty in pink.” “She cuts herself in riverbeds,” Comworth observed. “And do you love her the less for it?” Kaylee asked him. “No.” “Then why are you surprised we don’t either?” she said candidly. “’Sides, Cap’s got a weak spot for all things forlorn. Cap’n’d die for River, Simon too.” “That’s easy to say,” Comworth said. “But I find it hard to believe.” “He’s done it,” Simon said, “Well, at least, very nearly. Perhaps it’d be better to say that he’s proved it.” The Governor looked at Simon, examining to boy as if he hoped to find some evidence of falsehoods in Kaylee’s account on his face. When he didn’t see what he’d expected, he turned to Kaylee. “Miss Frye, I’m going to ask you a question. Will you answer it honestly?” “Ah, yes sir,” the girl said, glancing once again to Simon. “And, Simon, you are not allowed to say a word. Understand?” The governor’s tone could not be disobeyed. Simon nodded silently. “Miss Frye, I want you to consider a proposition. If I were to convince you that this was the best place for Simon and River, what would you do?” “I already know it ain’t,” Kaylee said uncomfortably. “Supposing I told you I could clear away all of Simon’s legal troubles and he could return to working in a hospital treating patients. And River would be given the best medical care money can buy, she would not be sent back to that school, but instead lead a normal life.” Kaylee glanced over to Simon, to see if this offer was legitimate. She’d been under the impression that whoever was pursuing River wouldn’t quit until she was captured and dragged back to her Academy. But that was the impression River had given her, and River was exactly the best judge of reality. The Governor of a planet was an important man. He could do many things and smooth many paths. But Simon just stared at his Godfather with scrutiny, as if the question was unfair and a trick. Still, he didn’t say anything. “I’d, ah,” the girl cleared her throat. “I’d be real sad ‘cause I know that’s what Simon wants, more than anything. I know that’s what he’d choose. And so, I know, they’d stay, and I’d leave, and I’d miss him, both of them, but then, that’s life, ain’t it?” She tried to smile, but failed, and looked all the more sincere for the failure. “Well,” Comworth said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t see that there’s anything to do but let you go, if that’s the case.” “Let her go?” Simon said suspiciously. “You mean, release her?” “She hasn’t committed a crime,” Comworth said. “At least, I have no evidence of one. And, contrary to popular belief,” he glanced sidelongly at Simon, “I am dedicated to having justice served on my planet.” Kaylee looked over to Simon, who was as confused and hesitant as she, “Don’t misunderstand,” the young doctor said cautiously. “We’re both grateful for this . . . gesture. But, if you were just going to let her go, why arrest her in the first place?” “Just because I care about justice, doesn’t mean I’m not a politician,” Comworth said. “And I’m not beyond planting a ‘trap to catch’ you, as you said.” “What is it that you think you’ve caught?” Simon asked. “The elusive truth about the past few months,” Comworth said. “And with that in mind, I intend to--” What he intended to do was never revealed, for at that moment the door to the office opened and River bounded in, laughing joyfully. “I told them, I told them,” she said, running directly towards Kaylee and throwing herself at the girl, “Rainbows only come out on gray days. The sky smiles when it cries.” “River,” Kaylee choked out, a little surprised, as she tried to stand and untangle herself from the young girl’s affectionate embrace. Out of respect, Simon and Comworth stood as well. “It’s good ta see ya.” “River,” Simon said, “What are you doing here? You were supposed to be with the doctor.” “She was with the doctor,” Gabriel Tam’s voice said from the doorway in a tone so sobering and superior that Simon and Kaylee blanched and turned towards him attentively. River, oblivious to the tone, turned and smiled at her father, slipping one hand in Kaylee’s. “Until she threw a fit,” Gabriel continued. “Insisted on finding Maylee, was it.” “Ah,” the mechanic stuttered. “Kaylee, sir.” “Reginald, who is this?” Gabriel asked, motioning vaguely in Kaylee’s direction. “She’s my friend, Daddy,” River answered quickly, usurping the governor. “Simon loves her.” For about twenty seconds Simon was convinced that the only sound in the room was that of his rapidly beating, panic stricken, heart. Simon tried to say his sister’s name, scold her, but it got stuck in his throat. He felt like he should apologize to Kaylee, but he couldn’t bear to do it in front of so many people. He felt like he should explain how simply wonderful she was to his father and godfather, and then clarify that he might love her in the sense that he admired her, and adored her, and cherished every minute he could spend with her, but he really wasn’t ‘in love’ with her, per say. But before he could say or do or explain anything, his father stepped forward. “Now, what was your name?” “Ah, Kaylee.” “Kaylee? You don’t have a last name?” “Frye,” Simon supplied. If he couldn’t spare the poor girl an interrogation, the least he could do was share the burden. “Kaylee Frye.” “Actually,” Kaylee said, glancing at Simon. “My full name’s Kaywinnith Lee. Do that make a difference?” “A great difference,” Gabriel said, laughing snidely. “I assure you. And where did you two meet?” “Don’t make fun of her,” Simon snapped. “You don’t even know her.” “Is River telling the truth?” Gabriel demanded. “Do you love this girl?” “It’s none of your business how I feel about anyone,” Simon asserted. “I’m your father. If I’m going to have some prairie harpy for a daughter-in-law –” “Gabriel, hold your tongue,” Comworth snapped. “Simon is right, you don’t know this girl. You have no call to speak of her in such a derogatory manner, as she stands here to hear you, nonetheless. You should be ashamed of yourself!” “I’m not going to play the gentleman for some diow kai dz who doesn’t even have the decency to put on airs when she’s in the presence of the Governor.” “Perhaps you should be a gentleman, Gabriel, not play one,” Comworth said, his voice low and rumbling. “Don’t leave,” River said, ignoring the tension between the two older men and turning to Kaylee. The younger girl’s large brown eyes looked sad, like she was about to cry. “I don’t want a broken family. If you leave you’ll come back, and if you come back we’ll leave and not come back. Everything will break and crack and they’ll be raining and no rainbows.” Kaylee turned to Simon. She looked like she wished she were invisible, or far far away, or anywhere but sanding in a room listening to older, richer, more important people bicker over her. Simon wished there were something he could do to comfort her, but he hadn’t a clue what that something would be. “I’m sorry,” he told the girl softly. She looked at him, saintly forgiveness in her eyes, and smiled. At that moment, River’s assertions were absolutely true; he loved her with all his heart. “Simon, River,” Comworth said, drawing the youngest Tam’s attention away from Kaylee. “Perhaps you should return to Dr. Westland.” “I suppose so,” Simon said, turning back to get one last idyllic view of Kaylee in her pretty denim jumper and bright yellow raincoat. He had a strong feeling that this would not be the last time he’d see the sweet mechanic, which was a sad realization in its own right, but if it was, he wanted to soak up ever detail of her appearance. He dreaded forgetting. “I don’t know if I want to say goodbye,” the girl said, turning to her brother. “I can’t choose.” “This is going to be one of those things, River, where I don’t think we have a choice.” “That’s existentially inaccurate,” River said sullenly. “Come on,” He said, taking his sister by the shoulders and leading her towards their father. River didn’t let go of Kaylee’s hand until the very end, when holding on would have meant breaking her arm. Gabriel sighed a sigh of relief and, in a way, finality, “It was very interesting meeting you, Miss Frye.” “Yeah,” Kaylee said, nodding coolly. “Glad I got ta meet you too.” “It’s not fair,” River cried as her father and brother pulled her out of the room. She was looking over her shoulder at Kaylee, standing timidly alone. “Why can’t we be fixed, be whole?” Simon didn’t look behind him, he didn’t turn and say goodbye, just in case it really was goodbye and this truly was the last time he’d see the most amazing and delightful girl he’d ever known. There was too much he wanted to say, best not to say anything at all. “I don’t know, River,” he told his sister softly, choking back a sob as the heavy door to the governor’s office closed behind them. “But you’re right, it’s not fair.” * * * The crew of Serenity was sitting in a small, smoky bar. There were no windows in the bar, which was just as well, because the weather outside was nothing to look at. Gray rain, made all grayer by the soot and grime that coated the neighborhood in which Mal had chosen to lodge: rain that Mal had felt sure was a bad omen back in Sweet Well. His feeling had proven true, a fact which gave him no comfort. “Gai sz! ,” Mal spat. “And you’re sure?” “I saw it with my own eyes,” Book said. “So now what?” Jayne asked. “We gonna break them all out?” “Don’t see that we have much choice,” Zoë sighed. “Breakin’ Simon and River out of their comfortable guests rooms was gonna be hard enough,” Mal sighed. “I don’t much like the idea of breaking someone out of a barracks guarded by half a dozen armed men.” “What about Inara?” Wash asked. “Could she maybe . . .” “What?” Mal snapped. “Lure them all away with a seductive dance? Offer them all drugged wine while batting her pretty brown eyes? No. Inara’s no good. Anything she did would betray her position, we’d end up just having to snatch her out, too.” “So, then?” Book asked. “What do you plan to do?” “Don’t know,” Mal admitted. “Give me the night.” “Think you’ll come up with a plan?” Jayne asked. “I think I’ll have to,” was Mal’s glum answer. * * * Inside the governor’s office, Kaylee took a shaky breath and tried not to cry. She was still aware of the governor’s presence, in fact, she was probably more aware of it than she had been when Simon was in the room with her. It was silly and prideful, but she didn’t want to cry in front of him, and yet, there seemed to be very little she could do to stop it. “Come now, Miss Frye,” Comworth said very kindly as he leaned over his desk towards her. “Everything will be all right.” She looked at him and tried to smile, “That’s awful kind of you to say.” “You really do love them, don’t you?” Comworth asked kindly. “Both of them?” Kaylee nodded. “They’re my friends.” “You and Simon?” the governor prompted. “Are you any more than just friends?” Kaylee blushed and looked down at her feet. “That ain’t a fair question,” she muttered. “Why not?” “Cause it’s not a question I can answer,” she said. “River said Simon loved you.” “River says a lot of things,” Kaylee observed. “Don’t make a one of them true.” “You don’t think he does.” “I think,” she said very carefully, “that he thinks he can only love River.” “Where does that leave you?” She smiled up at him with wisely sparkling brown eyes, “Alone, with his godfather, in a quite room on a rainy day.” Comworth laughed. “I’ll escort you to the villa gate. Would you like someone to make sure you get back to your noble captain all right?” “I can make my own way, thanks,” Kaylee said, feeling more comfortable with the old man, the Governor of her home planet, by the second. He escorted her out of the office and took her down halls that she hadn’t seen during the tour, leading around to a back gate that let out in a secluded alley. No one, she was assured, would see her leave. The whole time he talked softly and kindly to her about Simon, about what he was like as a child; how he was always eager to be with the adults, but quickly got bored of their conversation, so would sit and read quietly to himself while the other children played. She heard about how gullible he was, he’d believe every word that came out of River’s mouth, and there were many instances when she took advantage of that fact. When they reached the gate, Comworth paused. “You’re from here, aren’t you, from Newhope.” “Yep,” Kaylee said. “Born and raised. How’d ya know?” “Accent,” he said. “Dead give away. It sounds more familiar to me now than the accent from my home back in the Core.” “Well, I’d just like to say, that me and mine always thought you did a real nice job governoring.” “Thank you Miss Frye,” Comworth laughed. “I don’t suppose you’d take a message back to yours.” “’Course,” the girl said seriously, noting a serious tone in his voice. “Tell your captain that I understand.” “You understand?” “I’ve seen River. I’ve talked to Simon.” The seriousness in his voice had shifted slightly into sorrowful gravity. “I understand what’s been happening these last few months. And, though it breaks my heart, I condone it.” “Are, are you sayin’ you’d let them go?” Kaylee asked. Comworth nodded. “What ‘bout that thing where you could get Simon a job at a real hospital, and River . . .” “That’s not going to happen,” Comworth said curtly. “Not ever.” “But you said . . .?” “I wanted to know how you felt about them, really.” The Governor explained, looking off into the darkness of a rainy twilight. “On your ship, Simon is able to help people and he has people that care about him. River, apparently, has people that care about her; enough even to steal medicines for the child. I assume that was a fairly risky undertaking.” “More for River and Simon then for us,” Kaylee said honestly. “They got snatched, them and . . . and one other.” “And the Captain saved them?” “Yep.” “Heroically.” “I don’t know ‘bout that. Simon sure was impressed.” “Simon,” the governor muttered. “He is a great one for showing gratitude.” “Your gonna miss him, ain’t cha?” Kaylee asked sadly. “More than I would of.” “I will miss him.” “I’m sorry,” Kaylee said earnestly. “Miss Frye, I’ve imposed on you greatly today, would you allow me to do so once more?” “Wha’da’ya need?” Kaylee said, fully intending to give the gregarious man anything he asked for. “Watch after Simon and River for me.” She laughed, “Aw, I’d do that anyways.” “No, you don’t understand,” he said. “For me. As a natural citizen of Newhope, you have every right and reason to communicate with your governor on matters that concern you and him.” “You want me to spy on Simon?” Kaylee asked. “No, dear, I want you to tell me how he’s doing. Assure me that he’s happy and cared for, River too.” “I can do that,” Kaylee said. “I’ll be real subtle, too. ‘Case they read your mail.” Comworth smiled and, somewhat spontaneously, leaned forward to kiss the pretty young mechanic on the forehead. “You are kind and genuine and good. If this is the life Simon has to lead, I’m glad he can lead it with you.” “Well,” Kaylee said uncertainly. “What with River and all . . .we’re not, I mean . . . we haven’t . . .” “Don’t crush an old man’s hope for his godson,” Comworth teased. “I can dream my boy will learn to appreciate one of Newhope’s natural beauties.” Kaylee blushed so brightly her cheeks hurt. “You should probably get back to your captain.” “Yeah,” Kalyee said, nodding sadly. “It was very nice to meet you Miss Kaywinith Lee Frye,” The governor said, extending his hand. She took it, expecting to shake, but instead he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it elegantly. “Nice ta meet you too, sir,” the girl managed to say without breaking into bashful giggles. “I look forward to our correspondence.” “’Course,” She said, taking back her hand as she backed, awkwardly out the gate and into the secluded ally. “And thanks.” “Now, don’t forget my message.” “You understand,” Kaylee repeated, as she turned and started running as fast as she could to the meeting place, hoping against hope that they hadn’t yet mounted a rescue. “He understands,” she told herself again and, for some odd reason, she had to try very hard not to cry. * * * Mal sat at a desk in his small, dirty, little room in their small, dirty, little hotel and looked over all of Book’s notes on the Governor’s villa’s layouts, guard placement, windows, roof accesses and exits. He couldn’t help but feel discouraged. His attempts at making a plan to save Kaylee were not going overly well. They were, more or less, ‘Have Jayne do it’ which was considerably better than his ‘Have Zoë do it’ plan. He had intended to use Zoë as a distraction as he and Jayne grabbed the Tam’s. He didn’t trust Jayne alone with the kids, which is why ‘Do it yourself’ was not a viable option for the save-Kaylee plan. And he didn’t like the idea of Zoë getting into any action, but if he were there to protect her, he’d be able to handle it a little bit better, maybe. Perhaps she could do Wash’s job and Wash could help Mal, or Wash could help Jayne, as snagging Kaylee was likely to be the more difficult task. Or maybe Wash could get the Tam’s by himself. Book was an untapped resource, as far as that went, but Mal didn’t like the idea of using the preacher to take the tour twice. The guards were obviously on their toes. If they recognized Kaylee, they’d probably recognize Book, too and they couldn’t afford even the slightest bit of attention drawn to them. There was a gentle rapping on the door. “What is it?” “Got a message for ya Cap,” a muffled voice that sounded very much like Kaylee’s said. “Can I come in?” “Gan xie feng hou nai zi zhi zao hua, ” Mal said, jumping up from his seat so quickly that he tripped over his chair and, as a result of the aforementioned smallness of the room, fell hard against the door. “Cap?” the muffled voice said uncertainly. “You ok?” “Kaylee,” Mal said, finding his feet and unlocking the door with some difficulty. The locks were old and rusted. “Tell me it’s you, girl.” “It’s me sure enough,” Kaylee laughed as the door flew open and a disheveled yet overjoyed Captain Reynolds. “Ya look happy ta see me.” “Am I ever,” Mal said, grabbing his little mechanic and wrapping her in a ferocious bear hug. Kaylee giggled in her adorable way and, after a second, said, “Cap’n, I need to breathe.” Mal released her from his embrace but kept his hands firmly on her shoulder, as if he were afraid she’d be spirited back to the governor’s villa if he let go. “How’d you get away from the Governor’s guards?” “Oh, Cap’n ya ain’t even gonna believe,” The girl said, stepping into the room as Mal let his arm’s fall off her shoulders. She couldn’t step far, though, before running into his bed. She did, flopping down on it with a secure comfortable, familiarity. Mal closed the door and leaned against it. His relief at finding Kaylee was quickly overshadowed by his eagerness to find out what had happened. “Why don’t you go on and tell me?” “I don’t even know how ta start,” Kaylee said, staring up at the ceiling. “Beginning tends to be a good place,” Mal prompted. “Like, say, when you were arrested?” “Well,” the young girl said, throwing herself whole-heatedly into the telling of the story. “The tour was done, and I was just ‘bout to walk inta the gift shop after Shepherd Book when this guard comes up ta me and says ‘Miss, would you come with us please.’ And, let me tell you, I think at that very second my blood ran as cold as ever it did. I was sure they knew exactly what I’d been doin’, even though there was no difference between me and all them other tourists, still . . . “And they took me to the private wing of the villa, ya know, I think it was where the doctor’s wing was, if I’m remeberin’ the map right.” “Can you show me where that place was?” Mal asked, leaning over to his desk and handing the girl the tour book filled with the shepherd’s notes. “Ah yeah,” she said, looking at the map for a second before pointing out a room and continuing seamlessly with her story. “They send a guard in and I thought I was gonna faint ‘cause out came the governor! Can you believe it, Cap’n?” “The governor hisself?” Mal asked, believing it regardless of his surprise. “Yun-huh,” Kaylee nodded, wide eyed and slack jawed, as if she barely believed it still. “And he looks at me and says, ‘Do you know Simon Tam?’ and my heart jumped to my throat and I couldn’t of spoken a word ta lie even if I’d of had the presence of mind to think of it. I just nodded. And he turned to his guards and told them ta take me to his office and see that I was comfortable. “Not five minutes went by and the door opened and who ya suppose was on the other side?” “The governor?” “Simon,” Kaylee said flatly. “You saw Simon?” “Yeah,” the girl nodded. “He looked so sad, Cap. I mean, more than usual. Remember how he was when he first came on, all starchy and stiff and hopin’ that would make it so we didn’t notice. And then when he’d smile it’d be a real effort, you know, like he was doing it more for you than for him, but not patronizing, like I’m making it sound, just, even sadder.” “I know the look,” Mal admitted. He’d hated that look; it was the main reason that for boy’s first few months on Serenity, Mal had strongly disliked Simon. Mal didn’t like people who couldn’t find something to laugh about, even in the worst situations; to him they seemed ungrateful or, possibly, unable to be joyful. But as the days wore on and constant, unavoidable contact made him more familiar with the boy and with his moods, Mal realized that it wasn’t a lack of gratitude or even ability to be joyful, it was just that he was grieving. It all came down to an off-hand conversation he’d had with Zoë one day on their latest trip from Persephone to Jiangyin as they were shoveling manner into the air lock to be sucked out into space. Simon had offered to help, Mal had refused. “You should have let him, sir,” Zoë had said. “Why?” Mal’d asked. “You and I can do this job just fine.” “He could have done this job with us just fine,” Zoë’d pointed out. “And maybe speed us up a bit.” “Are you trying to tell me that haulin’ manure is not your definition of a good time?” Mal’d asked. “That’s not my point sir, no,” Zoë’d said. “But since you bring it up—” This was not a conversation he’d wanted to have for fear that she might abandon her shovel. “You were saying about Simon.” “Just that you should have let him help,” Zoe’d said. “I think it’d do you both good.” “Do us both good?” Mal’d scoffed. “How’s that?” “I don’t know,” She’d shrugged. “Busy hand happy heart. He’d probably be a lot more cheerful if he could do somethin’ and feel like a part of the crew. Then you’d probably like him a lot better if he were more cheerful, and then if he though you liked him, he’d probably be a little more open and a little more likable.” “You know, you’ve thought way to much on this.” “Actually, sir, Kaylee has. She asked me to mention it to you.” “Well, ya have,” Mal’d said, curtly, as if the observation had gone in one ear and out the other. He’d hoped that would the end of it. “But I think she’s probably right, sir,” Zoë’d ventured. “Do you?” “He reminds me a lot of you, sir.” She’d said with a very well played casualness, as if the comment was off-hand and in no way inflammatory. “Just after the war.” “What!” Mal’d practically yelled, stopping his shoveling all together and looking at her utter disbelief. “Zoë, I think you’ve been sniffing the cow pies a little too close.” “I ain’t the only one to see it,” Zoë’d said, still working diligently, as if their conversation hadn’t thrown Mal into some sort of alternate universe where up was down and wrong was right. “Wash and Inara think so too. ‘Course,” She’d said, pausing to look at him. “They don’t know what I know.” “And what,” Mal’d asked, his voice clipped and furious. “Do you think you know?” “That the forlorn look in that boy’s eyes, the I-don’t-have-a-place-in-this-'verse-everything-I-knew-is-gone-life-stoped-making-sense look.” “Yeah.” “That look was in your eyes,” Zoë’d said with so much frankness Mal hadn’t dreamed of nay-saying her. “From the moment you’d realized we lost on Serenity Valley to the moment you saw this ship.” And that was all she’d said. And it was all she’d had to say. They’d finished the chore in silence as Mal’d struggled to convince himself that he and Simon were not similar in the least. That the boy’s reclusive, mopey ways were nothing like his behavior after the war. Sure, Mal had sulked a little as he reevaluated and rebuilt his life, but the trauma of war was so much more, well, traumatic than the young doctors troubles. But after a good deal of resentful soul searching, and a little kindness on Mal’s part, which lead to a little openness on Simon’s part, Mal realized that it wasn’t the trauma that they shared, it was the loss. They both had lost everything they were sure they’d never lose, things they thought were so integrated into them that they didn’t consider it possible to lose. Simon had lost his social position, his money and his job; losses he could probably have handled. But for all intents and purposes, he’d lost his sister, too. The River he had now was not the same girl, and she could never be the same girl. He’d given everything up, and gotten more suffering in return. Mal had lost the war, lost his home, lost his ability to be an upright member of society; again all things he could have handled. But he’d also lost his faith in the power or goodness, and in the goodness of God. Just like Simon, he'd given everything up for his cause and had gotten only suffering in return. Mal hated to think that the I-don’t-have-a-place-in-this-world-everything-I-knew-is-gone-life-stoped-making-sense look might come back to the young man’s eyes, probably more than Kaylee did, because he knew what was going on in a person’s heart when they had that look, and Mal had grown to care for the young doctor enough to wish him spared that kind of pain. “Anyways,” the girl said, oblivious to Mal’s introspection. “The three of us sat and talked for what felt like forever. You’d of been so proud of him, Cap’n. He hadn’t let a word out about Serenity, not even about where he’d been, not even to defend himself.” Mal was proud of Simon, although no one would know it by the look on his face. “What you three talk about?” “Well, I explained the ship, kinda,” Kaylee said, for the first time her tale was becoming a little deflated, as if she were afraid that she’d done something wrong. “You know, that we like him and that we only want what’s best for both him and River.” “Did you, now?” Mal asked. “I didn’t give no details,” the girl said quickly. “No names.” “Except yours?” “Cap’n,” Kaylee said very seriously, which was appropriate, because Mal had his mind on very serious matters. “The Gov’ner’s a real Ci xiang. He’s not gonna hunt us down. Fact, he told me ta tell you that he understands.” “He understands?” Mal said. “I don’t suppose he told you just what he understands.” “Well,” Kaylee admitted. “No. But he’s gotta mean why Simon and River have been through, ya know, why they’ve been hiddin’ and why we’ve gotta get them back.” “Tell me you didn’t tell him our plan, Little Kaylee,” his voice was a warning. “’Course I didn’t,” Kaylee said. “I ain’t stupid. But, Cap, neither is he. He knows you’ve taken risks on Simon and River’s account before, don’t take much figuring to figure you’d do it again.” “You told him?” Mal asked, a little horrified. “Not much!” Kaylee insisted. “Only so much as to convince him that we weren’t bad. He loves them, Cap. You’d know it if you saw him. And he knows we love them too and what were doin’ is what’s best for them. That’s the thing he understands.” “That could very well be,” Mal said grudgingly. “But after your little pow-wow, Kaylee, I’m fairly sure he understands that if he wants to keep the kids he loves so much, he’s gonna have to keep them under double guard.” Kaylee continued to protest and to argue her point, but Mal didn’t give credence to a word of it. He couldn’t. He knew enough about people to know it is a universal fault of human kind that each individual believes other individuals are just like them. Kaylee was sweet and innocent and pure and good; and that was how she tended to see others, at least until they’d proven themselves not to be so. He had to be ready for the worst; that their plan had been somehow discovered and that the children would be ten times more difficult to capture and Kaylee had been set free to make him aware of that, to scare him away. And if, by some miracle of luck, Kaylee was right about the old man, well, then, all for the better. But, the situation being what it was, Mal couldn’t trust on a miracle of luck. * * * "I want to know," Governor Comworth said very seriously. "What you intend to do." He was dining in a smaller, more intimate dining room, with Gabriel and Regan. Genie was eating a much more elaborate supper with Inara so they could focus on formal table manners. River was sick and tired after a day of testing to go to dinner, or even eat, and had been sent to bed early. Simon's company had been unwanted, so he was in his guarded room with no windows and no crawl spaces and yet another sandwich. "What do you mean?" Gabriel scoffed. "What is there to do? We'll have to admit Simon and send River back to her school." "You must be out of you're mind," Comworth gasped. "That is ludicrous." "Now Gabriel," Regan soothed. "Let's not be hasty." "I'm not being hasty," Gabriel said defensively. "I have given much thought to this and I'm convinced this is what's best for the children." "But," Regan said weakly. "River's brain." "When we toured the school they told us that some of their teaching methods were going to be state of the art in regards to brain functioning," he reminded his wife. "But slicing up her brain," Regan said, horrified. "How could we send her back to that?" "How could we not?" Gabriel demanded, a little angrily. "Simon ripped her from that school when whatever they were doing to her was half done. He's been playing with her brain, with her body, with no real aim. What ever they were doing at that school, they were doing with a purpose. Whatever procedures they performed were undoubtedly performed by leading specialists in the field, not a green ER doctor." "Simon is brilliant," Regan said defensibly. "I'm not saying he isn't," Gabriel said, his voice a little calmer and gentler as he talked to his wife. "But he is not a specialist with twenty years experience in brain surgery and chemistry. River cannot get better under his care. Simon simply does not have the experience or understanding to help her. But if we take her back to the school, let them finish what they started, I'm sure the River we get back will be better." “Dr. Westland gave her medicine,” Regan continued to argue. “She’s already improved. This afternoon she was almost like the child I remember.” “Do you really what her to depend on medication all her life?” Gabriel asked, clearly disgusted with the idea. “Letting them finish their work is the only way she’ll ever have anything like a normal life.” "Even if what you say is true," Comworth said, trying not to sound as angry as he was. "Why send Simon to a mental institution. Obviously the boy is only doing what he thinks is best. You may consider him misguided, but you can't believe him insane." "I don't," Gabriel clipped. "Clearly River didn't understand what was happening to her any more than Simon currently does. She felt afraid and sent letters. Regan and I were wrong about that. We probably should have listened to his concerns more intently, instead of dismissing them. "But the fact remains that he kidnapped her. That is a crime, regardless of circumstances. I don't want to see my son in jail." "You'd rather see him doped up?" Comworth said. "Treated like a child, a fool?" "He's fortified his life," Gabriel said. "I hate that fact, but it is a fact. If we can convince a judge to rule him insane he could go for treatment, get a lighter sentence, he would have a better chance of rebuilding some of the things he's so thoroughly destroyed. Mental and emotional insatiability in times of great stress is much easier for society to accept than wanton criminal behavior." "Surely Simon could not be called wantonly criminal," Regan said. "Why not?" Gabriel demanded. "He committed a crime. He was of sound mind, he knew his actions were wrong, that didn't concern him. And we ought to take into account the company he has kept over the last few months. If that prairie harpy was any indication --" "Now, I liked her," Comworth said. "She was sweet." "She was di ji ," Gabriel spat. "Simon could do better." "I'm by no means convinced of that," Comworth said. "Neither, I suspect, is River." "This is the Kaylee girl, isn't it?" Regan asked, interjecting herself into the conversation. "All afternoon River wouldn't stop talking about her. Simon didn't say a word." "The boy has resigned himself to his fate," Comworth said with a curious tone in his voice. "Whatever path his is forced to go down he will trod it, regardless of how much pain it puts him through. I must say I respect how very resolutely he's accepted this whole, damnable, situation." "Respect it?" Gabriel scoffed. "He's sulked like a child." "He's forfeited his life, you said so yourself. And the new life that he was just beginning to forge, the life that Kaylee Frye was part of, has been snatched away. He has nothing now, not even River, because he knows we'll be sure to snatch her away as well. I, for one, can't fault him for feeling morose. I'm actually relived he's secure enough to let his feeling show." "That was a very fine speech, Reginald," Gabriel said. "But nothing anyone could say will convince me that Simon is some sort of tragic hero. I wish to God he were, you know that, he is my son, and I do love him. But I'll never be able to accept his actions." "So, I suppose your relationship with your son is over then?" Comworth said coldly. "He's the one that ended it, not I," Gabriel said. "If is further is full of troubles and he has no one to turn to, that is on one's fault but his." * * * Simon stared at his half-eaten sandwich in disgust. He couldn’t imagine any meal looking less appealing, and after his stint on Serenity, his imagination in regards to unappealing meals had been greatly expanded. It wasn’t that the sandwich wasn’t good. There was real meat, real bread, real mustard and sprouts. But as Simon’s stomach churned and the boy considered forcing himself to get the last half down, he realized it wasn’t the food itself that made him sick, it was what the food stood for. He’d been given sandwiches because he was too crazy to be trusted with butter knives and salad forks. All his parents distrust in him, all their disappointment, all their unwillingness to listen to reason seemed to be personified in that half a sandwich. As he considered eating at least the pickle, whose symbolism was somewhat less clear, there was a knock on his door. Simon looked up, shocked that anyone would consider his privacy worth observing. “What is it?” he called. “I just want to talk to you for a moment,” the governor’s kind voice said from the other side of the door. “Is that all right?” “Do I have a choice?” Simon asked. “Of course you do,” the governor said. “If you don’t want company, I’ll leave.” “No,” Simon said quickly, trying not to sound as surprised as he was. “Please, come in.” The door opened and Governor Comworth entered. The old man looked tired and though the smile he offered Simon was genuinely warm, it did seem a little forced. “I thought you might like some coffee,” Comworth said, stretching out a mug towards his hard-eyed godson. “Decaff, black.” “Thank you,” Simon said, looking at the mug coldly. “But I’m not really thirsty.” “Nor hungry,” Comworth sighed, setting the mug down on the table near Simon before walking over to the bed and sitting down on it. “So it would seem.” Simon glanced at his half eaten sandwich, which looked more unappealing by the minute and then turned back to his godfather, “I just don’t have the stomach for it.” He said simply. There was a moment of silence. Finally, Comworth spoke. “I liked her.” “Kaylee?” Simon asked. For a split second a warm expression tempered his face, but just as quickly it was replaced by foreboding. “You didn’t follow her, did you, or –” “I didn’t do anything,” the governor assured the younger man. “I just let her go.” “I don’t understand,” Simon said. “You were right about River,” Comworth said simply. “She was suffering and you did give up all you had to end it. You did save her.” Simon couldn’t believe his ears, he just stared at the governor, dumbfounded. “And you were right about the criminals you fell in with. Kaylee and, ah, Mal?” Simon nodded dumbly, too shocked by his godfather’s admission to notice the subtle use of the captain’s first name, nor even wonder how the old man came upon it. “You told me they took care of you, that you both ‘would be dead if not for their aid.’ And, as much as it pains me to say this, I find that I have to believe you.” “Pains you?” Simon asked uncertainly. “Why would it?” “Because,” the governor said, taking a deep breath and pushing himself up. “It means I will have to do things I do not want to do. Hurt people I do not want to hurt. Betray things I never thought I would betray.” “What are you talking about?” Simon asked wearily. “I don’t know,” the governor sighed. “I should . . . it’s been a long day.” He clapped his hands on his legs and pushed himself up so that he was standing. “One of the longest of my life.” “You can’t just leave,” Simon said, standing to face the governor eye-to-eye. The governor’s eyes were heartbroken, about to cry. Simon was too concerned about his fate and River’s to give a damn. “You’ve obviously made a decision about what you’re going to do with River and me.” Comworth looked at his godson, tried to say something, and then took a deep breath and shook his head. Turning towards the door, he said, “I don’t know what will happen. I won’t know until it does.” “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t find that comforting,” Simon said. “You have all the power, why play these games?” “I’m not playing, Simon,” Comworth said, pausing at the door and looking at his godson very seriously. “This is your life, not a game.” “Then stop dropping clues and giving hints,” Simon demanded. “If you’re going to send us off to the Alliance tell me!” “I won’t give you to them, Simon,” Comworth said very seriously. “I couldn’t.” “Oh,” the boy said, once again shocked. “Then, does . . . does that mean . . . ?” “I can’t think about what that means, just now,” the governor said. “As I said, it has been a long long day. I just wanted to come in here, give you coffee and let you know that I really did like your friend. That having been done, good night.” “Good night,” Simon said as the older man closed the door. He stared at it for a moment, wondering what the whole conversation had meant. As he stood there, the doctor felt himself swaying on his feet. He was exhausted, emotionally if not physically, and probably hungry he reasoned with some amusement. But the sandwich still looked horrid and the bed, on the other hand, was inviting. Simon sank into it and before he could be bothered to take off his shoes or get under the covers he was asleep. * * * River woke up screaming. She wrestled with her thick blankets, trying desperately to detangle herself. After great effort she managed to fall off her bed and onto the floor. "Simon," she sobbed. She was cold and the darkness seemed to be coming closer, rushing in on her. It was going to swallow her, she was sure of it. The darkness, which looked like some sort of mean dog or a Chinese dragon, smiling at her horribly, would rip her apart and eat her up. "Simon!" she called again, louder. He had the power to turn on the lights and scare the beastly darkness away. He had the power to transform the blankets that had been smothering her, strangling her, into warm soft wrappings that comforted her. He had the power to make the nightmares go away. But he wasn't coming. The darkness got closer. She could feel its horrid ice-cold breath and her body ached where it would bite into her. Terror closed her throat so she couldn't scream; all she could do was sob softly. She was abandoned to the darkness, utterly alone. Outside the room a guard patrolling the hall had heard her second cry to her brother, and then the beginning of her sobs. He called it in over his transmitter, "Base, this is Alpha three twenty, there's an odd noise coming out of the blue room." "Blue room," the base crackled back. "That's where that girl is, the one Genie's age." "Oh, yeah, what's her name, Rainbow?" "Something like that." "Should I check it out?" "Can you describe the noises?" "Well, it sounded like a scream and then some crying. It's quieted down now." "Nah, kid probably just had a nightmare. Nothing to worry about." "Ten four, talk to ya later." To Be Continued . . .