“Want to get some rest?” asked Mal, seeing that he was having difficulty staying on his feet. Between the drugs in his system and the sheer physical weariness, the boy was ready to crash, but fear flickered across his face. “We got a cabin set up for you, nice comfy bed probably feel good about now.”

Harper nodded uncertainly and followed them down to the cabin. He looked in with an initial sense of dread, knowing he was going to be confined there. What faced him was a surprisingly welcoming sight, with a real bed adorned with blankets and pillows, a comfortable rug on the floor, and a pleasantly worn chair in one corner. He felt tears prick the backs of his tired eyes at the unexpected kindness; he’d been expecting a cell of some kind despite the captain’s remark about a comfy bed. Harper blinked his eyes and swallowed forcefully, walking in and sitting down. The bunk gave softly under his weight, and he put out a hand to support himself, looking over and spotting a shiny, colorful object on the pillow as he did so.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“That’s what happens when you let Kaylee make the bed,” said Wash. “It’s candy.”

Harper unwrapped the small morsel of hard candy and started to crunch on it hungrily, forcing Mal to the sudden realization that he was probably starving. “You hungry?” Harper looked up gratefully at the Mal and nodded. It would appear that, suddenly and unexpectedly, life was looking up.

“I’ll take care ‘a that,” said Mal, strolling out and leaving Wash to keep an eye on Harper. He returned minutes later with a twinkle in his eye and handed Harper a large protein bar and a bowl filled to the brim with canned peaches.

Harper looked up at Mal, a flash of humor in his eyes. "Where's the whip?" he asked, the slight hesitation in his voice revealing uncertainty about whether joking was a particularly good idea.

Mal grinned. “Keeping a box of engine parts company. Eat the gorram peaches,” he said cheerfully.

Wash was staring at Mal with raised eyebrows. “Whip?” he mouthed silently. His forehead was wrinkled in a quizzical frown. Good thing I trust you, Mal, he thought.

Mal rolled his eyes and gave his pilot an affectionately rebuking look. You know I didn’t whip the damn kid, Wash. Leave me alone.

Simon appeared at the doorway and looked between Mal and Harper. “I was thinking this would be a good time to give him some more pain meds.” Mal nodded, as did Harper with somewhat more hesitation. Simon sat a small case on the bed and said, “I’m going to give you a sedative, too. It’ll knock you out a bit, help you rest.”

Harper wiggled rapidly away to the other end of the bed. “No,” he said frantically, his voice coming out as a cry. “Please, no," he begged, all bravado gone as sheer fright and panic settled into his eyes. He pleaded with Mal, shrinking away from the doctor. "I don't wanna be knocked out!"

Mal put a hand on Simon’s arm, pushing him back. “Okay,” he said gently. “It’s your choice.” Harper was breathing deeply, trying to recover from his panic and refusing to look at any of them.

“Hey, kiddo,” said Wash, distressed by his obvious terror. “You’re okay, really. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Yeah, what he said,” said Mal grimly. “What’d they do ta’ make you afraid of a simple sedative? I’m not wildly fond of being doped up on general principle, but there are – occasions - when it’s pretty nice to lock the world out for a bit.”

Harper still refused to meet their eyes. “Yeah, I wouldn’t know about that. People can do things to you, can’t fight. Hurt you, do experiments……” his hands were shaking as his voice trailed off. “Drugs are a real nice way to make your handy little victim hold still when he should be screaming his head off,” he mumbled bitterly.

“Damn, and here I am stuck in the old-fashioned world where people use nice simple ropes and chains,” said Mal wryly. “Okay, whips, handcuffs, and sedatives. Anything else I should keep you away from, because I ain’t exactly batting a thousand here, I’ve noticed.”

Harper gave a short, mirthless laugh, looking up at Mal. Mal looked back at him, his expression gentle and kind. “None of that gonna happen on my ship, son.”

Simon intervened, his manner calm. “Before I so brilliantly decided that being a fugitive was my calling in life, I was a respected doctor, a real doctor. Real doctors don’t torture people, and they don’t do experiments on them. I took an oath to help people, one that’s now pretty meaningless out here in the blackness of nowhere, but it’s still one I obey. I will care for you to the extent that you’ll let me, and I won’t ever give you cause to fear me.”

“He means that,” said Mal. “He irritates me some, but he’s a very good doctor, saved many a life of this ship includin’ my own. More to the point in your case, he takes that oath of his powerful serious, and you can trust him.”

Simon cast a look of mixed irritation and gratitude at Mal and continued. “Remember that shot I gave you? And the IV? Did they make you feel any better?”

Harper nodded warily. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’m going to give you more of those painkillers, a heavy enough dose to get you through the night without hurting. It’s going to make you very sleepy, but nothing like what you’re talking about. Can I do that?”

Harper nodded, his expression softening a bit. “Promise, Doc?”

“I promise,” said Simon. He spoke gently. “My little sister is on this ship, you know. It’s not safe, out here on the rim. We’ve seen nightmares, and met people capable of horrible things, things like what was done to you. But I would not have her on this ship if I didn’t trust its crew with her life. Just remember that, all right?”

Mal clenched his jaw tight to keep it from hitting the floor. “Did – you slip me a little something in the infirmary there Doc? ‘Cause I thought I just heard you imply you trusted me, and I suspect mighty powerful drugs’d be needed for me to imagine a thing like that.”

“Well, technically, I said I trusted the crew,” said Simon with a grin. “That doesn’t automatically include the captain.”

Mal tried his best to glare. It was a heroic effort, but sadly doomed to failure, and he flashed a grin as he raised his eyebrows. “What, savin’ you and your sister’s lives doesn’t even earn me a little respect on my own boat?”

“It – perhaps begins to make up for all the times you’ve punched me,” said Simon dryly. “Now if we could just discuss the number of times I’ve saved your life, or maybe the fact that I’ve put so many stitches in you that you’re starting to resemble a patchwork quilt-“

Mal sat down heavily beside Harper and rubbed his forehead in mock weariness, before looking sideways at the stowaway. “That’s it. Next time, it’s super glue and duct tape for me. Let the man doctor you once, and you’ll never hear the end of it.”

A flash of humor appeared in Harper’s eyes. “I happen to know you have a whip,” he said. “If you get really irritated with him, you do have options.”

Mal snorted in amusement. The snort began to resemble something closer to a giggling fit when he saw the indescribable expression on Simon’s face. Simon slowly backed away, speechless, with his hands raised in shocked bewilderment. “Thinkin’ I maybe like the way young Harper’s mind works,” Mal said humorously.

Simon struggled to regain his composure. “Remember – I’m the doctor! Remember?” He looked at Harper and addressed him in a mock plea. “Don’t encourage him. Please don’t encourage him. Remember the whole ‘better be nice to the doctor’ thing?”

Mal interrupted. “Ah, but see? I’m the captain. When you’re the captain, you don’t have to be nice to the doctor, ‘cause I can just order you to save my life.”

“Keep this up, and I’ll start leaving spare tools inside you when I patch you up,” retorted Simon with a grin.

“Shiny,” said Mal. “Might come in handy, case I ever decide to start holdin’ shop class in my innards.”

Harper burst out laughing. It was the first real laugh Mal had heard from him, and it brought a smile to Mal’s face. Mal continued. “And for the record, I am not a quilt! I’m much more of a rustic sheepskin throw.”

Wash pointed at Mal, shaking his head. “He lies,” said Wash. “He’s more like one of those really girly satin sheets, with unicorns!”

“You know absolutely nothing about me!” protested Mal. “Nothing! It’s fairies and hearts, not unicorns!” He looked over at Harper again. “Don’t listen to him. Gets his facts all sorts of mixed up.”

Harper grinned weakly, and Mal realized with a pang that while goofing around was going a long way to set him at ease, the young man was also hurt and deeply exhausted. “Best finish your work, here, Simon,” said Mal. “Our stowaway needs his beauty sleep.”

With a nod, Simon injected the solution he’d prepared during the banter, ignoring the expected indignant yelp. “Beauty and sleep are two words that should never be associated with needles,” muttered Harper, rubbing his arm.

“Yeah, well, I never did score too high on word association,” said Mal, standing with a grin. “You get some rest, now.” Simon and Wash walked out, and Mal began to slide the cabin door shut behind him when he saw sudden panic cross Harper’s face. The young man jumped to his feet without even thinking, glancing around rapidly at the walls as though they were fixing to attack him, and launching himself towards the door.

Seeing Mal’s look of wary surprise, Harper stopped and took a deep breath, clearly trying to steady himself. “You’re all right, son,” said Mal gently. “You’ve nothing to fear, and you’re not being abandoned.”

Harper looked away. “I’m not trying to be difficult,” he said with slight despair in his voice. “And – I’m not trying to manipulate you into not leaving me here. I’m sorry.” His voice held a helpless note that tugged at Mal’s emotions.

“Fear’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said Mal. He walked back into the cabin, and stood next to Harper. “Look around,” he said softly. “You’re not in a cell. You’re in a passenger cabin. Decent sort of place, comfortable. Folks pay money to stay here. With the door shut, it’s cozy, too. Safe, private. Kind of place a man can relax, maybe shut out the world for a spell. Given the choice, would you mind spending the night in here?”

Harper shook his head. “I – think it’s the nicest room I’ve ever slept in. It’s wonderful. Thanks.” He clipped his words shut as though he desperately wanted to end the conversation.

Mal ignored the brush-off. “You can choose to stay in here, you know. Trick yourself. If you never try that door, an’ just cozy up for the night, you’ll never have to know it’s locked.”

Harper blinked several times as he tried to sort out the odd logic of that. Weirdly, it made some sort of sense. Mal’s voice interrupted his pondering. “Nobody’s going to come in and hurt you. In the morning we’ll come get you, have a nice breakfast. We won’t leave you in here alone.”

Harper just stared at him, confused by his own emotions. He was considerably intimidated by Mal, but the captain was speaking kindly to him, and the crew he commanded seemed genuinely good-hearted. Not to mention the fact that the captain allowed them to talk back to him to an astonishing extent, and they seemed completely unafraid of him. A minute ago he’d longed for these people to leave him alone, and now he was almost desperate for their company. Wash was standing behind Mal, and Harper saw the compassion reflected in his eyes.

It made Harper not want to fail them. He resolved that he was not going to repay their kindness by throwing fearful fits about being locked in a cabin. Mal’s coping strategy sounded promising. They’re not going to lock the door, he lied to himself. I’m just going to stay here and go to sleep, because I want to. He took a deep breath and looked at Mal again.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m fine now.”

Mal gave Harper a kind look. “Have a good night, son,” he said. He turned to walk out again, and once again Harper felt panic rising up within him. He willed himself to stand still, bunching his hands into fists. His eyes met those of his Hawaiian-shirted look-alike standing outside the door, and he saw genuine humanity and concern on the man’s face. It had been a very long time since anyone had looked at Harper like that that, and it made his breath catch in his throat.

His eyes dropped as he fought with his emotions. The last person who’d ever looked at him with real caring and warmth had been his father, and it was a memory he’d long since suppressed. Easy enough to do, surrounded by people who didn’t give a damn. But seeing the kindness on Wash’s face brought it back with a vengeance, and the grief forced tears to his eyes as he looked away and tried to control his suddenly shaking legs.

Mal felt Wash’s hand on his arm as he walked out the door, and Wash quietly turned him back around to face the room. Harper was standing motionless and shaking, his head down and to the side in an effort to hide tears in his eyes. The mere act of standing there was obviously costing him every bit of self-control he had, and Mal’s eyes darkened with sadness. He glanced helplessly at Wash, who returned his pained look.

There are no gorram words, thought Mal. Nothing I can do is gonna make this right. He sighed deeply, feeling the utter helplessness of knowing he had no way to help that wouldn’t backfire on him or the terrified young man standing before him. I’m sorry? You’re going to be okay? Words that wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference to a man who wasn’t going to be okay for a long time to come.

Wash was the first to speak. “Harper?” he asked softly. “Would – you like me to stay for a bit? Keep you company?”

An uncertain but hopeful set of eyes looked up at him. “I’m harmless,” assured Wash. “Just ask – well, anyone.” Wash looked sideways at Mal, silently pleading for his permission to stay. Mal nodded silently, giving him a warning look which Wash acknowledged with a return nod.

Wash took Harper’s silence as an unspoken yes, and stepped forward into the cabin. Seeing Harper flinch back almost imperceptibly, Wash stopped and slid himself down to the floor, sitting non-threateningly and leaning against the wall of the cabin.

“You take care, son,” said Mal in a gentle voice. He stepped back and quietly slid the cabin door shut behind him, watching Harper out of the corner of his eyes. There was no panic this time, and Mal walked away. His legs carried him to his own cabin, and he climbed wearily down the ladder and sat on the bed. His troubled eyes traveled the small, familiar room.

It was a safe haven, a place where he’d always been able to find a sense of comfort and safety among the well-worn, comfortable decorations and furnishings. There was nothing elaborate about the place, but it echoed his ship as a whole; the solid shelter that held together the closest thing to a family and a home that he’d managed to carve out of this broken universe. At this very moment, it seemed like the most valuable treasure imaginable.