A.N. It's not tear-jerking sadness, but I often feel my heart stopping when I read this. Have your difibrillator ready... To catch up on the series, start with Namesake and follow the links till you get here.

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PART 34: HE FEARED

Three days. No word. No luck. No ideas. She’d disappeared with the clothes on her back, a handful of meds, and the small stuffed dinosaur that hadn’t left her bureau since she was a baby. They’d backed out of the job, which only concerned Mal because he’d taken a bullet for it. They sent out search parties, hung fliers, and monitored the space port. Girl knew how to hide. The children were growing anxious, and Cole was doing his best to take on the role of big brother, looking out for them the way Zoë always had. Words could not assuage the guilt in his son’s eyes, but Mal would be damned if he wouldn’t try. He didn’t want to think of what would’ve gone down if Cole had kept silent. They took the mule out during the day; called her name. Near about run this settlement dry, and there were at least thirty more on the world within spitting distance. Inara was trying to search smart, taking into account Zoë’s perpetual stand for bioethics, finding small organizations and groups on the world she may have been in contact with. While many places had read Zoë’s public letters and spoke highly of her work, none of them had ever seen her, and remarked incredulously at her young age and the possibility of her presence on their world. All-in-all, another dead end. She hadn’t taken money, which meant she’d either run to contacts on the world or she was stealing food. River patiently reviewed the ship’s log for any and all communiqués to the planet, while Mal monitored the local police frequencies for any reports of theft. As their labor remained fruitless, Mal’s fear ripened. The middle of the night, Mal sat at the dining table, biting his finger nails, unable to stomach real food. With every hour that passed, his anxiety grew. He read that letter over and over again, short as it was. “Don’t come for me, Mal. This is something I have to do.” What did she have to do? Run away? Or something else? His body was so tense, his nerves so frayed, that when Michael climbed into his lap, it felt like a thousand jelly-fish stingers on his skin. Pressing his eyes closed, Mal inhaled sharply, reminding himself that he had other children besides Zoë to look after. Still, he could not empty his mind of his little girl. “Where’s your sister, Michael,” he murmured, not expecting an answer. “She’s scared.” “I am too,” Mal confessed. “She wasn’t scared before. She was sure.” Mal nodded, unconsoled. After three days with no food and no money, of course Zoë was getting scared. Knowing she was scared made it all the worse. Michael spoke again. “She’s scared because the plan changed.” “What was her plan?” “She’s scared of them,” he whimpered. “Is someone hurting her?” Mal asked more urgently, turning his son to face him. “Michael, is someone hurting her?” “Baba!” the boy cried out, covering his ears and burying his head in Mal’s shoulder. Was that cry from his daughter or from his son? Mal hugged Michael tightly, heading to the bridge to check something on the cortex. The only thing in the ‘verse that truly scared Zoë to the core – to the point of being contagious on her brother – was the memory of Inara being taken. If someone like that had Zoë… he’d been looking in the wrong place.

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PART 35: HE BROKE IN

“Jayne!” Mal hollered as Sky flew backwards and hit the dirt. The enemy was retreating, they were almost through. Couldn’t back down now. Couldn’t be distracted. With a thunderous roar, Jayne let loose a reckless spray of bullets, felling one of their attackers while the other retreated. As soon as the bullets stopped flying, Jayne ran to Sky. She was dazed, but bloodless – her armor had held. His head near lost, Mal made a mad dash for the metal shed their attackers had been protecting, praying that none of the bullets had penetrated the side. Gorram slave traders! His Zoë was in there. “River, bring the mule and some gorram lock cutters!” Mal called into his radio, firing point blank at the lock and managing only to send it into a melted spin. Mal pounded on the door of the metal shed, hoping the sound could overpower the deafening thunder of his heart. “Zoë, we’re comin’ in,” he assured through the door. No response. His breath caught in waiting, Mal ran back to Jayne as he knelt next to Sky. “How we doin’?” Sky grunted and lifted her head, but opted to lie in the dirt a little longer. “Just a little bruised is all,” she assured through gritted teeth. “Lie still for now,” Jayne soothed, taking off his jacket to make a pillow for her. When the mule arrived, they lifted Sky into the back seat, then Mal took the lock cutters and ran to open the shed. He was not prepared for the sight that awaited him. The sun shot through the musty, damp shed as the door opened to thirty girls, huddled in various clumps, clad in filthy rags, in various phases of starvation and dehydration. “Wo de ma,” Mal muttered, wanting to dash in and find Zoë, but not wanting to traumatize the girls any more than they already had been. Turning back to the outside, he hollered, “Jayne, call Inara. Tell her to get down here.” Taking a deep breath, Mal stepped inside the barn, the stench of human waste nearly overpowering him. Some of the girls closest to the front recoiled, but others stayed perfectly still, heads hung in defeat. “Zoë?” Mal called. “Zo! You in here?” A girl by Mal’s feet squeaked, and he knelt immediately to face her – a young Asian with a black eye and a busted lip. “It’s alright, Miss. I’m here to help.” The girl looked at him, terrified, shuddering uncertainly. “I’m lookin’ for my daughter. For my Little Zoë,” Mal tried again. The girl’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “She told you not to come.” “You’ve seen her?” Mal’s voice was tight, trying to maintain patience and make no sudden moves. “She got taken a few days ago. With the other sicklings?” Mal’s heart raced, and he could tell he was starting to upset the girl. “Taken where?” The girl shrugged, her eyes pleading for mercy. “No one ever comes back to tell.”

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PART 36: HE DIED THAT MOMENT

Mal left Inara to handle the young ladies, knowing she’d do it with dignity and respect; he sent River and Sky back to the ship and to Simon; then he and Jayne followed the scent from the metal shed in circles, hoping that the ‘sicklings’ had not been taken far. He hoped and prayed that Zoë had contracted some non-terminal illness on world and not suffered another relapse. Most days, she didn’t need meds anymore, but it only took one flare-up to burn through the stash she’d taken along. Jayne walked like his left brain had been cut out, and Mal knew he had his mind on Sky and the baby. Behind the shed was an oily trail, stained by car exhaust. Mal’s boots sank into the sludge of the place, and the air thickened with the stench of burnt flesh. “Please, God, no,” he prayed, sticking to the cover of the trees as they approached the source of the diffusing smoke. He could hear Jayne murmuring in fear as well, his movements becoming more concentrated and intent on the destination they were tracking. “Please let her not be here,” Jayne whispered. “Not my baby girl.” The two paused at the edge of a clearing, seeing a wooden shack with the door tipped open and dangling off the hinges and a pile of burnt corpses in the side yard. Mal loaded his pistol with fresh rounds, his jaw setting, but the place was silent. There was no one here to shoot. He stepped tentatively closer to the fetid remains, his heart threatening to vomit itself right out of him. He would never forget those charred faces, their mouths seared into screams, the shreds of their lives crumbling away as ash. His body went cold, his breath coming in short puffs, marking the time. He would have screamed had he not been shocked into silence. Jayne stood next to him, pale as ice; his eyes, forgetting how to blink, just sort of twitched. Mal wanted to relight that fire and throw himself on it, cover Zoë with himself. Let her … everyone dies alone. Suddenly Jayne grabbed his arm and pulled him sideways. “Mal, watch out!” From the trees above, a dark figure fell, tackling them to the ground. Mal started to fight, but recognized her feel, recognized her scent. Little Zoë! Baby girl! Daughter! … Alive! “Baba,” she mouthed, her throat dry, her body trembling, clad in nothing but her momma’s vest. Quickly, he shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around the naked, quivering girl, pulling her close, not trusting his legs to stand just yet. “Oh, Zoë, what are you doing here?” he moaned, kicking himself for the stupidity of the question. Her eyes met his with a ghost of understanding, her voice and body weak. “They took…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes closing, and Mal frantically hugged and pressed the life back into her. Finally she murmured. “I wanted my vest back.”

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Ain't Just Blood