'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe... Godfrey stared out gloomily at the overcast sky. He lightly ran his fingers across the broken bridge of his nose. He did not think the authorities would actually do anything about Reynolds, but he had made a formal complaint and demanded they arrest him, should he be so foolish as to return. It had taken him two full days to recover from the beating before he could walk about his brother's labyrinthine mansion. He had spent so long working and planning for all that was rightfully his to come into his own control...and the wretched whore and weakling Browncoat smuggler tainted it all in a matter of hours. He watched the workers encouraging the hedges to regrow where the captain had blown holes through the maze. It would take months before anyone would be able to run the course...years before it would look remotely close to what Mycroft had cultivated. He snarled at the sight of the ruined gardens in disgust. 'Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!'... His gaze slowly stretched out to the horizon, where he had last seen the Firefly class ship escape into the skies and stars beyond. It had snatched away his pretty little toy, leaving him with the marks of the toy's dog...a broken nose, stitches across his forehead and a constant headache pounding behind his eyes...he fumed in futility. He stalked to the fireplace, curling his fingers around the cast-iron poker and stabbed viciously at the dying fire. He stared at the weapon in his hand a moment before imagining Reynolds as the log and stabbed again. He would have his revenge...somehow. He was a planner. He had taken his time and achieved the fortune his brother stole from him...he would have his revenge. He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought-- So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood a while in thought... The doors to his library opened suddenly and he turned... And as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came!... Captain Reynolds entered, his pistol drawn and aimed at Godfrey. He saw the sparks from the shots fired before he heard the sound...the pain ripped through his thighs - first his left, then his right. One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!...

The fire poker clattered to the ground as he fell heavily to the polished floor, calling for his security. Mal stood over the bleeding man, his gun aimed between the eyes. He waited and watched as the man's voice died away and those beady little eyes widened as Inara entered the room. She walked slowly, her full skirt swaying with every step. She came to stand near Mal, her eyes focused on the squirming mass at her feet. "I wanted to let you know of how this will go from here," she said, her voice steady and soft. "I have spoken with the police, the Alliance and your sister. Your charges against Captain Reynolds have been dismissed. The police do not look kindly on kidnapping a Registered Companion, let alone drugging, abusing and raping her. The Alliance will be here within the hour to collect you...what's left of you...and what the police here cannot do, the Alliance will. Your sister has informed me that she would rather see Mycroft's puzzle house in ashes before it came to you and your...deviant games. I am inclined to grant her request." She bent to whisper her next statement: "And although I would never consider arson as an acceptable form of revenge, I am afraid the Captain here is not quite as civilized as I choose to be." She straightened and looked around at the expansive collection of books, art and antiques. "Your brother was a wonderful genius," she sighed. "A master of architecture, a connoisseur of logic puzzles...I enjoyed every masquerade he hosted, even when I was in the Training House. He was a good man. It is a shame you had to share his blood." She turned and left, just as regally as she had entered. Zoë met her at the door and escorted her the rest of the way out of the house. He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back... "I don't want you to worry about losing such a fine house," Mal said quietly. "Turns out your sister has a copy of every design ol' Crofty turned out. So, it won't matter none to her if nothing but a brick stands here. Which is good, since it won't matter to me or mine, either." He turned and looked at the crackling fire. "Looks like your fire's dyin'," he commented. "Let me help you with that." 'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!' He chortled in his joy... Inara turned back to see Mal leaving the house casually. She could see the smoke starting at the back of the house and felt a pang of loss for Mycroft...for his kindness... Zoë stayed with her for a moment, but saw Jayne was having trouble leaving the handful of security guards without beating them senseless. She made her apologies to Inara and went to collect their merc. Mal nodded to his first mate as she passed him. He came up to Inara's side and looked at the house with her. "You left him alive?" she asked. He actually laughed a little. "Darlin', it's your plan," he said, still smiling. "I'm only your average, uncivilized monster-slayer." "I had been so happy to find Mycroft out here," she mused. "And now...no one will ever have the joy of his parties again." Mal watched the sadness fill her eyes, unable to offer her anything. She recovered and looked at him, calm and beautiful again. "I do hope that Dulcie's payment for this will not lead you into a life of arson," she teased. "I thought smuggling and thieving were more your style." "I may develop a taste for fires yet," Mal smiled, glad she was learning to be herself again. "But I won't let the money sway my decision." "You never do," she sighed. She glanced at the house, where flames now could be seen from several of the windows, and turned to head back to Serenity. "Do you think Jayne has gotten his fill of unnecessary violence with the security guards, or should we let him play a bit longer?" she asked as Mal fell in step with her. "We should head out," Mal said, after a glance at the skies. "Much as I hate to take away his playtime. I don't need the Alliance crawlin' all over my boat." "I understand," Inara said. She stopped and looked again at the house. Mal stopped with her. She took his hand in hers and watched the fire grow. "Thank you," she whispered. Mal didn't answer. He watched her eyes glitter with unshed tears and held her soft hand in his. She looked at him and he ducked his head. "I should go get everyone ready to leave," he mumbled. "Looks like Zoë could use some help convincin' Jayne." "I'll be there soon," she responded, releasing his hand reluctantly and facing the fire again. He went to touch her shoulder, but found he couldn't. Something held him back...she was regaining her strength once more...she wouldn't need him now. He left, wishing she could need him just once more... The clouds overhead turned cold and angry. Inara prayed they would not open up quite yet. She wanted Godfrey to feel as helpless as she had. A part of her wished Mal had stayed with her, but knew she had to learn to stand alone again. She watched the flames lick at the roof of the mansion...feeling her wounds burn away with the home of her friend. 'Twas brillig and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.