CHAPTER 11 That afternoon, Book prepared macaroni and cheese with three types of cheeses. Despite the lack of a cooler, the cheeses were holding up remarkably well on Serenity. Elle had sauntered in to watch him cook, having spent most of the morning independent from Jayne. Book wanted to engage Elle in a conversation, but River wandered in shortly after and perched at the head of the table. River stared intently, in fact quite rudely, at Elle; Elle cast the occasional side-long glance and mischievous smile. Book watched the interaction, intrigued. The night before, he’d become very familiar with Elle’s ability to speak without talking. But Elle seemed to be giving River even less visual clues than she’d given him. Granted, River could be very intuitive, but how would Elle know that? Simon came in next, taking the seat between River and Elle, ending the stare-off. Jayne arrived and sat next to Elle, but the two hardly exchanged more than a cordial glance. Shortly after, Jayne stood up again to help Book set the table. Zoë and Wash came in discussing the latest wave from Mr. Universe. Wash had been seeking regular updates on the happenings of Three Hills, from the underground auction to the current Alliance presence. Eager for news of the outside world, Wash had used any number of excuses to contact Mr. Universe and Zoë found that to be risky. Despite that, she appreciated the most recent post which warned of two Alliance cruisers in the area. As the macaroni cooked, Book set out blocks of cheese, fresh basil, and sliced tomato on the table for the crew to munch on. Simon carefully maneuvered the ingredients onto his plate and constructed a small sandwich on his fork. Not waiting for the plate to be passed, Jayne reached across the table, picked up a few blocks of cheese and popped them in his mouth. “This ain’t some fancy restaurant, Doc,” Jayne mocked, chewing with his mouth open. Without a doubt, the old Jayne had returned. Simon ignored the comment, maintaining his more dignified eating style. The appetizer was disrupted as Mal charged into the room, Inara following in as dignified a manner as she could. “You own a planet!” Mal cried. The room fell silent except for Jayne’s chewing and the tapping of the engine. Jayne took anther piece of cheese from the plate and tipped his chair back, watching the situation unfold with a bemused grin. “A moon, yes” Elle said evenly, meeting Mal’s gaze. Book’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He could tell that Mal hadn’t thought of where he wanted the conversation to go beyond this point. “Is this another lie?” “It’s an irrelevant truth?” Elle answered, forking a tomato onto her plate. “The truth is never irrelevant,” Book interrupted. Elle looked at him and then around the room at the others, all seeming to want an explanation. “I share what’s relevant and what will keep you alive,” Elle said sternly. “Fine. I own a moon. That is not going to help you find your mechanic, so why must you know it.” “I just want to know who you are,” Mal said. “I’m Elle.” “No. I don’t believe you are.” Elle scrunched her face in disgust. “First I tell you I’m not Elle and you say I am. Then I say to you that I am and you say I’m not. If you aren’t going to believe me, then don’t ask.” The room fell silent again. Most of the crew stared at Elle, but Jayne picked disinterestedly at his fingernail. He hadn’t known about the “planet-owner” alias, but wasn’t surprised. He knew from her other aliases that after they had parted ways, Elle, like him, had gone in search of money. Mal fumed, having lost his handle on the conversation. Catching on, Zoë picked up with a different puzzle. “Mr. Universe said Caddock’s been black marked,” Zoë said. “What does that mean?” “Caddock has been flagged among both white and black market circles. He has not been able to buy, sell, or trade anything in over three months. I imagine that’s why he stole your cargo.” “I thought he stole it because he was a pirate?” Wash joked. “You know, plundering and pillaging…” “Even a pirate seeks coin or something to trade. Every credit that passes through that ship is marked as counterfeit. And if you stole any coin from their ship, I suggest you think twice before spending it.” When she said the last, she looked directly at Jayne. “But, that’s not possible,” Simon said, his brow furrowed. “You can’t control what they take or try to trade. You can’t mark a coin like a credit.” “You can’t,” Elle said simply. “Just supposing you could,” Book said slowly, “why would you?” “If you cross the wrong man, you’re never forgiven. Unfortunately, Caddock is not the type of man to finish a job he starts.” “Or start a job he claims to have finished,” Mal said, thinking of his lost coin Newhall. “Consequently, he’s always sought cash up front. That doesn’t work for him anymore. I imagine being black marked, he’s also having a hard time cycling in new crew.” “So he kidnapped a mechanic,” Simon murmured, understanding. “He’s going to get to Three Hills and find his fresh coin is useless,” Zoë reasoned. “They’ll probably stalk the auction hall and steal what they want.” “That’s where we should meet ‘em, then,” Mal agreed, exchanging a look with Zoë. Book had become so engrossed in the conversation that he burned their dinner. Quickly, he removed the food from the stove and brought it to the table. Having a few new answers to chew on, Mal took his place at the head of the table and they began passing around the burnt macaroni and cheese, eating solemnly. “There is a job,” Elle said, breaking the silence. “Once your mechanic is back. I have a job if you want it. A run to Osiris.” Mal mulled over the offer as he shoveled the macaroni and cheese into his mouth. Finally, his interest peaked. “What kind of payment do you offer?” Elle smiled, arrogantly.

*~*

When Simon entered the Infirmary, he found both River and Elle sitting on the side bed, leaning against the wall. Both were silent, but seemed to be holding each other’s rapt attention. River looked well, sitting cross-legged on the bed. The fresh food had done her well, and the color was returning to her face. Elle looked paler than she had this morning, but her face was alive. Neither acknowledged his entrance at first. Then, suddenly, River jumped to her knees and covered her mouth in alarm. Elle laughed weakly. “What’s going on?” Simon asked, wondering if there had been a joke at his expense. “A job,” River sang, alighting from the bed. “A terrible adventure. It’s clear now, where we go next.” With that, she danced out of the room. Still confused, Simon turned to Elle. He determined that he had liked her better before she could speak—before she could lie. The Captain didn’t believe she was Jayne’s Elle and he was starting to agree. Seeing Elle with River, he suddenly had an idea of how she was so convincing. “Are you a reader?” Simon asked, sharply. Elle laughed at him, then winced. For the first time, Simon knew why people feared River: they felt exposed. “No,” Elle assured him. Simon still didn’t relax. “I’ve been around my fair share. I can tell by her face that I’m getting through to her, but I don’t hear her. And right now, it’s easier than talking.” Simon was still wary, but having no ability to change or control the situation, he let it drop. Besides, something else she said had caught his interest. “Just where is it that you come across all these readers?” Elle didn’t answer. She just curled her feet onto the bed under her robe. Her face hardened as she sensed his distrust. Finally she spoke. “I just came for pain killers, Doc. But I’m not in much pain anymore.” With that, she stood to leave, but Simon wasn’t done. “You and Jayne share a pretty rare blood type,” Simon said. Despite all of Mal’s theories about Elle not being related to Jayne, this fact still bothered Simon. “That’s pretty lucky.” “We shared a lot,” she answered, stopping with one hand on the door frame. Though not direct, it was the first time Simon had heard her admit aloud at the possibility of her and Jayne having a common history. For a moment, the coldness on her face melted. “So you do know Jayne?” Simon wanted to confirm. “Knew,” she corrected. “I knew Jayne… the man he was. Long time ago. I knew him before he liked girls… before he liked guns.” Simon laughed at the thought of an adolescent ape-Jayne chasing girls with a gun. Elle retreated into the memory for a moment, but quickly masked it. She turned a disapproving look on Simon, the coldness returning. “You don’t like Jayne, do you?” Simon stopped laughing, giving cautious thought to the question. Carefully, he replied. “We’ve had our differences. When Jayne looks at me, he sees a reward he hasn’t cashed in just yet. When I look at him, I see... a crass, brainless, man-ape with a gun.” As soon as he said it, Simon regretted it. He’d had enough foot-in-mouth experiences with Kaylee to recognize Elle’s reaction; only instead of disappointement, he saw hostility. Within seconds, Elle had Simon in a choke-hold, a syringe pressed at his neck. “Make a move, Doc, and I swear I will inject into you whatever poison this may be. Dong ma?” Simon froze, forcing his muscles to stay relaxed. The needle had already broken skin and found a vein. Hitting the vein must have been a lucky shot and he feared what would happen if she yanked the needle out too quickly… or if she decided to inject its contents into him. “Don’t you ever call Jayne brainless. Not while I’m in earshot. Not where I might hear about it. He may not be skilled in the sciences or whatever rich folk teach their kids these days. But he knows his trade. For the last two days, he’s recounted to me Caddock’s entire arsenal—from blades to guns, which are rusted and which are well maintained. Over a hundred weapons. He can read between the lines of a gunfight down to the motivation of the individuals involved and find the weaknesses. Does that sound like a brainless ape with a gun, Doc? Or does that sound like a man who knows his trade?” Simon didn’t dare answer with the needle still in his neck. Suddenly, with the same swiftness as before, Elle removed the needle from Simon’s neck and shoved him across the room. Simon’s hand flew immediately to the puncture, more from fear than pain. He was surprised to find clean prick and only a few drops of blood. Elle tossed the syringe at him with a smirk. It contained only saline. He was relieved at first and at first wondered if she knew how innocuous the saline was. The skill with which she had handled the syringe suggested that she did. “He’s not dumb, Doc. He’s specialized. Just like you,” she growled and then stalked out of the Infirmary. In the halls, he heard her still grumbling, “Let’s see you pick up a gun and try to do his job.” Still shocked by the suddenness of the attack and the abruptness of its end, Simon stood in the Infirmary, syringe in hand, long after Elle left. His neck wasn’t even bruised by the incident. She had steady hands and good aim. Simon knew that even he couldn’t pull off a move like that. He thought about her words, convinced for the first time that she really did know and care for Jayne. Or was this an elaborate twist in the lie? “Specialized,” Simon repeated, sanitizing the needle and putting the syringe away. “Right. Very, very, very specialized.

*~*

River drew slowly, intentionally, careful with every detail. Simon watched, amazed, as she colored in their childhood home. Her attention to detail went down to a rust stain, a missing shingle, and a kink in the chain of the porch swing. River hadn’t spoken much of home since Simon had told her they couldn’t return. He wondered what had prompted this sketch. Although she had been fairly lucid recently, she was often ill. Simon wondered if it was because of the fresh food. Fresh food, even cleaned, could retain unpredictable maladies from its world of origin. All they knew of this food was that it came from the Neptune. When he had asked, she said simply “Sympathy is a great affliction; the infection troubles the mind.” Confused, he had responded “Do you have a headache?” She simply gave that look she always did when he failed to understand her. As if what she perceived should be obvious to him. River was putting the final touches on the house. The lattice on the side was broken from the time he had snuck out. The week before his entrance exam to medical school, his father had literally confined him to his room to study. River had quizzed him, hardly needing the textbook as reference. That was the year before she had entered the Academy. Just past ten, River informed Simon that they needed one last adventure. A band of renegades was forming down the street preparing to seize control of the town and declare martial law. It was imperative that they assist with the triage and, if possible, take control of the planet. Eager for one more game before leaving home, Simon and River opened his bedroom window and began climbing. River had made it to the ground with her typical grace, but the lattice had broken while Simon was still three feet in the air. His ankle had turned when he fell, but unwilling to admit defeat, he and River fled away from the house, laughing as they went. Although his parents had never mentioned it, he was sure they knew. Simon smiled at the memory. River stopped coloring and met his eyes briefly. She picked up the pencil and quickly sketched the two of them as kids running away from the house. She erased it just as quickly like a fleeting memory. “I remember breaking that lattice,” Simon said warmly. “It’s still broken.” “Is it?” Simon asked, wondering if she really knew. “That doesn’t sound like our parents.” “They like to remember us,” River answered, pausing to consider the completed picture. Simon’s heart broke for home. As River stood up to rummage around the kitchen, Simon picked up the picture. He admired River’s talent, but mostly longed for the home he couldn’t return to. River sat down at the table again looking more distraught than before. She snatched the paper from Simon, picked up a pencil, and began rapidly sketching and erasing things over the house. The colors became more smudged with each erasure. Simon wanted to stop her, to calm her, to save the picture. She drew an Alliance flag, then erased it. A broken window. Erase. A pair of nooses on the front porch. “River,” Simon said tentatively.” River threw the pencil, grabbed a match, and lit the paper on fire. “River what are you doing?!” Simon’s chair tipped backwards as he jumped to his feet. He gripped River’s hands as she prepared to light another match. While he struggled with her, he also tried to get water to douse the flames. “It’s burning!” she yelled, tormented. “It’s burning!” She dropped to her knees as Simon tossed water over the table. The picture was reduced to char. River was still screaming. “It’s burning!” Simon knelt down and tried to calm her. “No!” she yelled, Simon was unsure at whom. “It’s burning,” she whimpered. Then she threw up on him.

*~*

Mal found Elle staring into the cargo bay, her feet dangling over the edge of the catwalk. Jayne and Book were below, taking turns lifting weights. Mal leaned on the top rail and looked over at Elle. She seemed emotionally spent and Mal wondered what she’d been up to. “Have you come to ask me that same question, Captain?” Elle sighed. “Figure that somewhere mixed in the lies, I’ll find the truth of you. Or perhaps I should just take you to the edge of a volcano.” “Death threats don’t affect me, Captain. I’m already dead.” Bitterness laced her voice, but she still spoke with authority and purpose. He saw a hint of sadness in her eyes as she watched Jayne and Book. Mal recognized it as the look of a woman who was denying her heart for the sake of a greater good. “You don’t look dead to me,” he offered. Elle rolled her eyes in frustration. “A man slashed my throat and left me in the middle of nowhere. Statistically speaking, I’m dead.” “Everyone knows statistics are the worst kind of lying.” “Why do you persist?” she wailed, dropping her head against the railing “I just want to know who can awaken a change like that in Jayne.” Elle shook her head. “You’re not seeing a soul awaken, Captain. You’re seeing a ghost—the ghost of the man Jayne once was. The ghost of a man long dead. And the girl Jayne sees when he looks at me? She died long ago. Long before anyone ever slit my throat.” “Then I seem to be transporting a pair of dead folk.” “There’s nothing left in this ‘verse,” she murmured. “Jayne’s got you,” Mal countered. “To him, that’s something. Something worth a hell of a lot more than he had before.” “He’s chasing a dream.” “He loves that dream.” “Love ain’t enough.” Sure it is, Mal thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

*~*

**************************************** LINK TO CHAPTER 12