A.N. Angst level still at elevated... -------------------------------------- CHAPTER 9 Inara awoke in a cell very similar to the one Prio had had her in and it stirred torturous memories of the man she had killed back on Osiris. As soon as she realized she was laying on a mite-covered foam mattress, Inara shot out of the bed shaking with revulsion. She could feel the grime and decay all over her skin and hair, like crawling ants. As she tried to slough off the filth, her dislocated shoulder screamed painful warnings to her brain, threatening her consciousness. “Is this all you have, Jantis!” she screamed. “You can’t bury me forever!” Ignoring the protests in her shoulder, she ripped off her cloak and threw it against the door. The momentum of the move, combined with pain and dizziness from her injury sent her reeling into the back wall and she slumped on the floor. Her cloak was unsatisfyingly soft for such violence and fell short of the opposite wall, clunking and rattling on the floor. Her first aid kit! Inara ripped through the fabric, trying to find the pocket where the little box was hidden. The box had burst open, its contents filling the folds of the robe. Microbicides, instant cold packs, antibiotics… most of the painkillers, the gauze, and the tape had been used up. After swallowing the last pain pill, she pulled out one of the instant cold packs, popped the seal, and held it to her injured shoulder. Time passed. Inara had no idea how much time, but by the time she came to herself again, the pack on her shoulder was lukewarm. What had come over her? The anger, the fire, it wasn’t her. She could only remember bits and pieces of the afternoon, after Jantis had left her with the doctor. The burn on her fingers from the peroxide, the jolt in her wrist from when she knocked out those guards. The weight of Jantis crushing her rib cage. The loud, echoing pop in her shoulder. And now she was here. Buried. No windows, no posh bed, no food. Her stomach growled at the thought. Would they still bring her food? Or did they just bring her here to die.

*~*

Simon hadn’t had this many critical patients at one time before. Caddock had taken a low-impact shot to the chest, but the wound was shallow and he’d only need a few stitches. Jayne’s tourniquet seemed to have saved a fair bit of his blood from leaking out, and Simon did his best to stabilize the merc as they were driving back, knowing Jayne was too heavy for them to move. Although Zoë was the only one conscious of the three, Simon worried for her most because she was also the only one pregnant. As Wash pulled into Serenity’s bay, Kaylee ran to meet them, stretcher ready. “Zoë! Jayne!” Kaylee called, jumping onto the mule to help load Zoë onto the stretcher. She stopped dead when she saw Caddock crumpled on the floor by the back seat. Rage welled within her at the sight of the man who had brought her into so much suffering. “Kaylee,” Zoë called weakly, fumbling her pistol unable to grasp it. Wash helped her pass the weapon to Kaylee who held it awkwardly. “If he wakes up, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.” Kaylee nodded as the others rushed to the Infirmary. She sat next to Jayne’s slumped form, wishing him awake. River gazed down from the catwalk, keeping watch. The smell of Caddock overwhelmed her senses and she wondered if Simon might clean him off when he patched him up. Jayne groaned painfully, startling Kaylee and making her drop the gun. Jayne’s hand was on the weapon before his eyes even opened, as if his fingers were magnetically drawn to it. He looked uncertainly to Kaylee, his face pale. “Why are we sittin’ here?” Kaylee shrugged. “Zoë’s first in line.” Jayne’s hand rested limply on the pistol as he surveyed Serenity, his eyes landing on Caddock. He raised the weapon and sighted. “Is that hun dan dead?” “We’re not supposed to kill him, Jayne. Just … keep him from goin’ anywhere.” Caddock’s eyes shot open and locked on Jayne and the pistol. “So it’s down to you, little girl,” Caddock taunted Kaylee. Jayne shifted testily in response to the threat. He released the safety on the weapon, but Kaylee placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. Caddock laughed. “You honestly believe you can tame this beast?” Jayne growled angrily. “Give me a reason to shoot you.”

*~*

Mal was worried by how often he had to stop and steady Saskia on the way back to the ship. She was like Zoe, not wanting help, not acknowledging her weakness, able to push herself to the brink of death just to get the job done. Mal had seen people hit with cotton swabs react more than Saskia had to the bullet she'd taken. Now, the fierce woman pressed on quickly toward Serenity, such that even he was winded trying to keep up. Mal felt his allies spread thin and worried what state he might find his ship in on his return. Both Jayne and Zoë were down, Simon taking care of them. A heard of wild horses wouldn't draw Wash from Zoë's side. Book had disappeared into the city. Inara was missing. Kaylee couldn’t hold her own in a gun fight. He could not trust Saskia to guard Caddock, he could not leave Caddock alone on his boat. What had she been telling Caddock before? Were they conspiring? Mal shifted uncomfortably at the thought that Saskia was heavily armed ... with weapons from his own armory! Saskia paused again at the entrance to the spaceport, placing one hand against the wall for support. Mal could see his ship just up the ramp, back door gaping open, as beautiful as the first day he saw her. He didn't wait for Saskia to catch her breath. He trotted into his ship, right into an unpleasant situation. Jayne and Caddock were awake, slouched in the hover mule, guns pointed at each other. The only thing that eased his mind was Kaylee's apathetic, relaxed posture. Still, taking nothing for granted, Mal drew his gun. “Put the gun down, Caddock,” Mal ordered. Caddock complied grudgingly without even considering Mal. His eyes were firmly fixed on Jayne. “Saskia,” Caddock rumbled evenly. “Take this liu mang de fei fei's gun away.” Saskia flinched at the order, but recovered quickly. “Of course, sir,” she answered smoothly, gliding to the hover mule. Mal tensed. Kaylee sat straighter, her eyes dancing from Saskia to Mal, wishing she’d kept hold of the gun herself. “Kaylee, why don’t you run and fetch that stretcher so we can start moving to the Infirmary,” Mal suggested. Kaylee didn’t need to be told twice. With hardly a second glance, she hopped off the mule and backed out of the cargo bay. Mal was glad to have her safe, but worried that Jayne didn’t seem to be following much of the conversation; he seemed to expend most energy on keeping his gun steady. As Mal watched Saskia, he realized he needn’t have worried. Saskia ran her hand down Jayne’s arm, brushed her cheek against Jayne’s, then tossed the gun over to Mal. Surprised and troubled, Mal recognized that Saskia was merely asserting herself, not declaring her loyalty. “You traitor,” Caddock barked. “You shot me.” “You betrayed me first.” “You left me for dead on Three Hills.” “You –” “Bi zui!” Mal interrupted. “Much as I'd like to resolve who stabbed who in the back first –” “Stay out of this,” Caddock hissed, then brought a hand to his scruffy beard and coughed loudly. “Uhh... my ship,” Mal hollered. He holstered the gun Saskia had tossed him, then picked Caddock’s discarded weapon off the floor. “Saskia, stay here with Jayne. Caddock, quit playing up that cat scratch. On your feet.” Mal grabbed a tape roll and some rope as he led Caddock out. When he looked back, Saskia had settled in next to Jayne, holding him steady as blood drained from his wound. Mal did not expect her loyalty. He just wanted to know, when push came to shove, if she was still loyal to Caddock.

*~*

Wash grunted as they hefted Jayne on the stretcher and carried him to the Infirmary. It took all of them to carry the burly gunman through the hallway and once in the Infirmary, no one wanted to leave. Wash resented the flood of people as Simon’s attention was no longer focused on Zoë. She was worse off than Simon initially thought, having lost consciousness as soon as she had handed off her gun. The wound was not through-and-through and the bullet was nowhere to be found. Wash didn’t understand everything that Simon was saying, except that the bullet had entered Zoë’s bloodstream and could be on its way to wreak havoc anywhere in her body. “Kaylee, did you finish cleaning up after that rodent?” Mal asked. Kaylee shook her head and left unhappily, anticipating the order to follow. Wash steeled himself, waiting for Mal to order him out as well, but the order didn’t come. “You should leave as well,” Simon began, but Mal cut him off. “I’ll tend to Jayne, you fix Zoë,” Mal said, washing his hands. Simon looked uncertain. “I may not be in the top 3%, but I was taking bullets out of my crew long before you signed on.” Simon hesitated, his jaw moving as if he wanted to speak. “Don’t worry, Doc,” Mal assured. “You’ll be right here.” Unable to conjure words on that subject, Simon turned to Saskia and diagnosed her quickly. “You need a bed too.” “I’m fine,” she protested. “Go, lay on the couch out there. I’ll be there shortly. If you start feeling any sharp pain, just holler.” “Start?” Saskia asked. They all looked after her as she went to the couch in the common area and lay down. Simon looked a bit lost for a moment, gave Jayne a cursory look, instructed Mal briefly, then returned to Zoë. She was still unconscious, her hand growing colder. Wash could feel the slowness of her heartbeat and see the shallowness of her breathing. Her lips were blue like a corpse. Mal was hollering something fierce and Simon ran back to Jayne. There was blood everywhere! Jayne was seizing. Zoë went critical. The baby was in distress. Jayne may lose his leg. Wash couldn’t hear through the alarms. Was there time anymore? Any sensation aside from panic? “I can’t save them all!” Simon shouted angrily at Mal. “Assist me or get out.” The screaming and the alarms mellowed. Back to work. Zoë was stable. Jayne. The leg. Surgery. “Wash, I need your blood.” A needle. “Zoë, are you okay?” Irrigation, sutures, bandages, more drugs. “Little Malcolm, keep fighting.” The IV dripped. “Wash?” “Wash?” “Wash?”

*~*

How many times had Simon repeated his name? Wash didn’t know. His own blood poured out of his arm into Jayne’s body and he cursed himself for being O-negative. How many pints had he lost? “Wash,” Simon was saying. “I’m not sure I can save both Zoë and the baby.” “What? What do you mean? She’s okay isn’t she? Zoë’s okay?” “They’re okay for now,” Simon began, his eyes deep and mournful, teetering on the brink of bad news. “I’m worried… if we don’t terminate the pregnancy … she only has a three percent chance to live.” “Terminate?” Wash repeated, not believing his ears. “You want to take my son.” “It would greatly increase her chance of survival.” Wash’s eyes glazed, frosting Zoë in an eternal snapshot. He could see his son’s heart beating on the monitor, right next to hers. “Hers, not his.” Simon nodded. “You’re asking me…” Wash’s heart bled. “If she goes … if her heart stops again, I’m not sure I can bring them both back. If you ask me to, I will try. But then, we may lose them both.” Wash couldn’t handle the stress. The world swirled about. He should not be giving blood. When Simon came into focus again, he gave the only instruction he could think of. “Save her. Save Zoë.”

*~*

Eight hours later, Simon finished the final suture, closing Zoë’s body one life short. He hated frontier medicine. In the core, he would have had at least five treatment options to save both Zoë and the baby. Not to mention a team of doctors, so he wouldn’t have been distracted by Jayne. As Mal washed his hands, Wash rested his head against the wall, so exhausted from stress that Simon considered giving him a sedative. Jayne was recovering quickly, having already requested two meals in the last hour. Simon’s next concern was Saskia, who had been asleep on the couch since the chaos began. River entered the Infirmary slowly, a dark blue dress hanging loosely on her wiry frame. As she touched the fresh stitches on Zoë’s body, her brow furrowed intensely. “He’s gone,” she said. “Mei mei, you shouldn’t …” Simon began, pulling River’s hand away before she could spread any germs. “I can’t heal her. Only Wei,” she whimpered. She looked at Simon with those sad, soulful eyes. “He tried to show me, but he couldn’t. I have to help.” “No, you can’t help her. Not now.” “I can!” River insisted. “Wei could.” “You don’t have to.” “But I –” “River, you aren’t him!” River stopped talking, her eyes locking on Simon’s as though she saw him for the first time. “I’m not him.” “No.” “Not like him. He can do what I can’t.” “And I’m sure you can do things he can’t.” “He can’t fly.” Simon smiled. “No one can fly.” River looked cryptically at Zoë. “I can.”

*~*

Wash left the Infirmary in a daze, unsure of where to go – just needing to get out. His insides trembled and churned at the loss of his son. Or was it the smell oozing out of the passenger quarters. Caddock sat haughtily in a room, the door tipped open. His hair was thick and knotted like a halo, so matted it could not be coaxed over the bald spot fighting its way to the surface. His beard was so thick, Wash doubted the presence of a chin. Dirt clung under his long, pinky nails, which were not subject to the nail-biting that kept the other fingernails in check. Every time Caddock coughed, he turned his head into his shoulder, raising his elbow as high as his restraints would allow. “It was your boy, wasn’t it?” Caddock hissed as Wash walked by. Wash froze at the mention of his son. “I heard the yellin’. Terrible thing to happen.” Caddock waited, but Wash said nothing. “I lost a son once. My fault. My wife never forgave me.” Wash’s heart pounded with a fresh burden of fear and guilt. “Then she left me.” His mind suddenly screaming, Wash looked desperately to Caddock hoping for preventative wisdom. Was Caddock trying to warn him? Caddock snarled evilly, making Wash go cold inside and out. “Was it your fault?” he asked. “Wash!” Mal called from behind, making him jump. Wash could feel his face hot with emotion. He needed to escape. Mal easily saw the fresh burdens laid on his shoulders and pulled Wash away from the door. “Wash, did Caddock say something to you?” “No, he… yeah, he…” “Do not listen to him,” Mal warned. “Not a word.” “I killed my son.” “No, Wash. Listen to me. Your son gave his life to save his mother. To save Zoë.” Wash nodded, his eyes not meeting Mal. “Say it, Wash. Say it.” Wash shuddered at the well of emotion. “To save Zoë.”

*~*

Book returned late, and figured he’d better bring a fine meal as a peace offering for disappearing in the middle of a gunfight. The spaceport glowed with light and activity in spite of the late hour. The corporate world that headed Blue Sun could never sleep. The back door of Serenity was closed to the stir of workers, and as Book approached he was intercepted by a young port control worker. “Excuse me, sir, but is that ship scheduled to leave tonight.” “We have not scheduled a departure yet,” Book answered smoothly. “Our business here is not yet finished.” “Sir, long term parking is across the way.” “Our stay is unexpected,” Book answered, not wanting to move. He knew that the long term landings were held in the Aghurmi port, over 100 miles away. “Mr. Jantis invited us to stay for the air show on Friday next. He asked us to stay close.” The worker’s eyes widened at the mention of Jantis and after mumbling a few apologies, he ran back toward the port offices. Book took a deep breath, hoping he hadn’t brought too much attention on Serenity. But Inara had to be in Shali, and he had no intention of leaving her. Mal opened Serenity’s back door before Book even had a chance to knock. The fresh roast Book had brought found few takers among the crew and little more than the look on Mal’s face was required as explanation. The Captain sat at the dining room table while Book salted and seared the meat, filling in Mal on any bit of information that was helpful and not deadly. “I thought I could call in a favor,” Book explained. “But he’s changed. He’s paranoid about being overthrown … our involvement with Osiris marks us as conspirators.” “And Inara?” “He said she was buried. But I don’t think she’s dead.” “If she’s not dead, she’s hidden.” “Hidden where?” “Depends,” Mal said gravely. “Is she garbage to him or is she a treasure?” The smell of cooking food drew Jayne from his sickbed and the mercenary hobbled in, using a broken broom stick as a cane. Saskia was not far behind, and each took a generous helping of food, retelling the story of the afternoon. Book was grateful that Jayne did not seem to remember seeing Elle. Simon wandered in a few paces later, staying just long enough to hand out doses of painkillers to Jayne and Saskia, having given up on ordering them to bed rest. “How is it I always get shot in the gorram leg!” Jayne groused, swallowing the pain meds. Saskia laughed, “It’s because you’re a damn giant!” Kaylee sulked through, picked at a plate of food for half an hour, then just sat there and stared into the empty air. River sat at the stairs between the dining hall and the bridge, looking like she had taken an emotional beating. Book sliced some bread and made a sandwich for her which she ate without noticing. The guilt overwhelmed him. Book should have stayed with the crew that afternoon. He should have done something. As the dining room cleared out for the evening and Book cleaned the dishes, Kaylee remained in her chair, staring at her half-eaten plate of food. Book placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back into the present. “I wish I could have helped,” he said slowly. She looked up at him, large hazel eyes brimming. “I wish I could have helped too.”

*~* Go to Chapter 10