Kaylee and horizon expansion. Post-Serenity, but that's mostly irrelevant. Unfluffy. Unbeta'd. PG-13.

I blatantly stole certain aspects from "actual" literature, and obviously Firefly is not mine.

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She doesn't know how to use the weapon in her hand. She doesn't even know if it's loaded.

But neither does the man in front of her, on either count, and that's what has him raising his hands and what has Kaylee standing still, even though she wants to do nothing more than turn around and run. To her bunk, maybe, and lock it from the inside.

But the man would be faster, anyway. She knows that. She has to be brave today and do what needs doing. Whatever that may be, until the Captain comes back.

He's not quite right.

In his head, he's not quite right. She can tell. The shifting eyes and shoulders pulled up and his smile. Like a child. A very big child.

She's trying not to cry and he shrugs.

"Her hair is so soft."

Thin strands are dancing in a near weightless tangle downward from his fist, moving with some kind of invisible drift of air, not with the shaking of his hands, because they are not. And there's the blood.

"Step back!"

It bursts out of her, after a moment of contemplation, almost by itself. Her voice isn't steady like she wants it to be, nor menacing in any way, but it's loud enough to fill up the cargo bay, and sharply so, and maybe enough to be heard outside a bit away. In case anyone is on the way. They ought to be. It's late in the afternoon. The light is so pretty.

Inara's not moving at all.

"Go away," it's not as loud as before, not half so, and she corrects herself through the throat that hurts with her not crying. "Go the ruttin' hell away!"

Jayne would, maybe, say it like that. He curses all the time, and this is what he does, be harsh and strong. And it works, a little. The man frowns through his smile. His eyes keep tracing some sort of circle over the catwalk, even though his face stays turned straight to Kaylee. As if he were considering. As if he were confused. And then he smiles again.

She fires.

Once, and it explodes everything into high, screaming motion, for three steps backward before he hunches over with his arms over his head. Elbows front and large hands clamped together, with a low keening coming out that spins the ringing in her head back into separate sensations, like sound and backlash and the realization that she actually pulled the trigger and it functioned right.

It would have gone wide even had she she aimed. She hasn't ever learned how to shoot a gun, not ever in her life, but it's the noise she wanted and the noise is doing its work for her. Like with animals, like they did back home. To scare them.

"No, no, no, " he groans in a way that's like singing. "No, don't do that."

As if it's her doing the harm. Because she's the one who is armed.

And she is.

"Then go!"

He's bent and blind and he stumbles, but he catches himself. Back a few more steps to the ramp. It's working.

She doesn't want to, but she follows him and she waves the gun."I will shoot again!"

Her feet stomp loudly, more so when she sees the red stains on his shirt-cuffs.

"No, no," it comes out between his elbows. "I didn't mean it!"

He sways more than walks, feet hitting the deckplates awkward with every few steps, but he's moving and she can feel herself flushing with power and anger and yet more anger and less terror. It's so strong, all of it. She's alone, but she is doing this.

If he stops walking, she could shoot him, she thinks. She could do it. She thinks.

"Go!"

Her voice is hard, like it belongs to someone else, and she is going to remember how to form it because it makes him stumble back in fright and fall and roll until he hits the dirt outside of Serenity. And then he scrambles up and runs off toward the town.

The dusts sticks to his clothes like a powder, easy to see in the fading light. She can hear him crying long after he's gone.

She imagines, she can hear him crying long after she shouldn't have been able to.

It takes her a while to hear the quiet for what it is, her own heart is so loud in her ears. The more it slows down, the stronger she feels each beat. It's not like it should be.

The gun stays in her hands. Lower, though, when she starts feeling the weight. Which is quite a bit later, though she couldn't have measured it in something other than breaths. Her fingers remain wrapped around the important parts. Just in case. Just in case.

She keeps watching the outside of the ship because she can't make herself turn for the longest time.

Inara's still not moving yet. Making not even the slightest noise at all.

She doesn't want to check. She knows she is crying when she realizes this. If she doesn't check, she won't know and nothing has to be true.

But that isn't how it's done. This is part of it, her mind lays out for her, pulled from somewhere. It's part of it, just like the good. The being free and what it means to them all, maybe to the others more than her. They do what they must. Do what needs doing.

Her right hands takes some attention to work itself loose from her grip on the gun, but it does and there is a space for panic in the two seconds between that and when she hits the airlock controls. The ramp goes up on a darkening sky and she's shaking in the noise, because she can't hear so well what's outside and she can't turn her back until it is shut away.

Then she does.

There was a sob somewhere in her throat that breaks free with the movement, and it helps her take those steps to where Inara's spilled on the floor like so much dirty laundry.

She can't see her face and all she knows to think is that this is so horrible, so wrong, and the words in her head now make it seem closer and further away at once. Like she can touch it less than be it. There's wet heat on her face.

The tears are familiar, they are hers.

"'Nara?"

She sounds like Kaylee again, all herself, not counting her left hand where the gun is. She kneels and makes sure to keep off the shimmering fabric that's splayed out away from Inara's legs, and even though there are tears in her eyes that make everything blurry she can see that there's a very weak rise and fall. Breath.

It's so much easier to reach out now and touch her. The body on the floor is warm and alive.

Nothing will have to change forever. Everything will be fine.

"'Nara."

Her hand fists in the dress to shake a little, and Inara moans after a few back and forths but doesn't wake up, so she has to lean forward to get some kind of hug.

She's not alone now. It's all locked up and they're safe. The two of them. Now.

It'll be fine.

Late afternoon, Captain said. They ought to be back any moment now so, she thinks, she'll wait right here. Instead of trying to drag her over the floor.

The blood cleans off Inara's head well, using her sleeve.

- - - END.