A lot of images had haunted Zoë in her time, most of them from the war, a few from after - walking in to see her husband and her captain bein' tortured among them.

She knew this would be another.

There was blood; pools of black-red stickiness soaked into the sand, contrasting starkly with the white of the stone steps and floor. Smeared hand prints and a bloody trail led from the steps to where Mal lay, Inara collapsed atop him. A third body sprawled on the floor beside them, but her eyes fixed on the captain and companion, the image burning into her brain, un-erasable.

It wasn't that it was any more gruesome than anything she'd seen before, but there was something about the stillness of it, the unnatural calmness of the way they were laying there together, so peaceful-like - if you ignored the bruises and the blood. Tiānna.

"Simon!" she yelled, a note of panic in her voice that had the young doctor taking the steps two at a time to reach her side as she rolled Inara onto her back, fingers pressing to the artery at her throat – the pulse high, fast, and thready – alive! – and Mal's… She felt a moment of pure grief well up inside her as she took him in, his body too still, face slack in that all-too-familiar way of death.

She buried the feeling ruthlessly; the skin beneath her fingers still had warmth to it and Zoë didn't know a more stubborn hun dan in the whole wide 'verse than Malcolm Reynolds.

"Inara's alive, bleedin', but alive," Zoë said anxiously as Simon reached her. "Mal's—" She couldn't finish the sentence, eyes hard and glittering as she turned to him, telling the young man to fix it.

Simon nodded wordlessly, slipping into the calm efficiency of his profession as he began to catalogue injuries, pressing his fingers to the inside of the other man's wrist and again at his throat as he felt for a pulse.

Zoë watched grimly as the young doctor quickly opened his bag and pulled out a stethoscope, her heart beating harder when he listened at Mal's chest and cursed. "He has no heartbeat," Simon said, rifling through his bag frantically. "Open his shirt!" he barked as he pulled out a small portable defibrillator. She did as he said and ripped his shirt open, not wasting time with the buttons, aware that every second was precious. She wiped as much blood away from his chest as she could with a sweep of her palm, frantically clearing the areas where Simon would need to attach the pads.

She pulled her hands away as he put the electrodes in place and powered the AED, cursing the unit for being so slow, and then the shock light went green and the doctor pressed the button, sending a jolt of electricity into Mal's heart.

They waited tensely, Zoë's eyes lifting to Simon's as he shook his head and charged the unit again.

***

"Ai ya!" exclaimed Wash, pulling at his hair in anxious worry. Tall plumes of dark smoke trailed up into the sky on the horizon, like black hands clawing their way toward the sun before the wind blew them into indistinct wisps of hazy grey clouds – evidence of the battle that waged below.

The battle his wife was surely at the heart of.

These were the moments Wash hated most, the times he was left behind with nothing to do but worry. He'd plotted the fastest course off world and out of the system he could in case they'd need a quick getaway, gone over it half a dozen times already; double-checked the silent comm's to make sure they were functioning properly, then checked them again, just in case; had an eye out for bulletins and fresh warrants, just to be on the safe side… but none of it took his mind off the fact that Zoë was out there, right now, being shot at or worse – ai ya, he couldn't think about worse – and that Mal, as much as the man pissed him off, was not there to take the brunt of the bad stuff, which even Wash had to admit, he was really good at doing.

"Still no word?" came Book's sonorous voice as the Shepherd climbed the steps onto the bridge.

"No," Wash replied, terse while feigning nonchalance at the same time. The older man gave the pilot a commiserating smile, laying a hand on his shoulder and Wash sighed. "Still nothing. No Zoë, nothing else from Kaylee…"

***

"You wanna be hurrying things up," Whelt growled impatiently, standing over the prone mechanic as she pretended to struggle with the wires beneath the console.

Kaylee's fingers shook as she tried to think of a way out of her situation. She knew she'd only be able to stall Whelt for so long, and she was terrified of what would happen after that, afraid he would kill her. After the incident with the bounty hunter on Serenity, she'd vowed that she wouldn't let herself be that vulnerable again. But here she was, at the mercy of another gun wielding malefactor, feeling helpless.

She gasped as Whelt's face suddenly appeared next to hers, her eyes going wide as he crouched down and glared at her in warning. "Don't think I don’t' know what you're doin'," he said menacingly. Trembling, Kaylee swallowed and made the final necessary connection, the shuttle humming to life as the restored power coursed through the ship.

"There now. Knew that weren't so hard," the man said, motioning with his gun for her to get up.

Slowly, Kaylee pushed herself out from under the console and climbed to her feet, watching Whelt warily. A flash of movement behind the bounty hunter caught her attention as a familiar shape rose up behind him, and Kaylee's eyes widened in shock before she could hide it.

Whelt saw it and tensed, his entire body coiling in preparation to spring. With a snarl of effort, he swung his gun around, whirling as Kaylee shouted out "River!" in warning.

There was a loud explosion of sound, amplified by the close confines of the shuttle when Whelt's pistol fired, and Kaylee screamed. But River had side-stepped the weapon neatly and her arm rose in a sweeping arc, hand – and the fifty-three ounces of Jayne's polished steel it held – connecting with the side of Whelt's head solidly and the man collapsed in a boneless heap, knocked cold.

Kaylee gaped at River, still trembling from the rush of fear and adrenaline. "You hit him!" she exclaimed, incredulously.

River looked down at the bounty hunter crumpled at their feet, lifting the pistol she still held by the barrel. "The weight was adequate."

The mechanic gave a short laugh, finally releasing the breath she felt like she'd been holding since Whelt first appeared, and pulled the other girl into a tight hug.

"Need to go now," said River, extricating herself from Kaylee's embrace and sliding into the pilot's seat smoothly. Her eyes scanned the controls, cataloging buttons and switches, calculating.

"But, what about Simon? Where is he? Didn't he come with you?" Kaylee asked, looking back into the shuttle's hold for sign of the doctor.

"Needed to make a house call," the girl said gravely. She turned to stare at Kaylee intensely. "Waiting."

"Waitin'?"

River motioned up toward the sky with a nod of her head, waiting for the mechanic to comprehend.

"Oh. Oh! Oh, River… I don't know," Kaylee said nervously. "Are you sure you—"

River smiled and turned back to the controls. With calm assuredness, she pushed a series of buttons rapidly and the shuttle's thrusters fired to life with a roar. "Hold on," she said as Kaylee scrambled to grab the back of her chair. Then, with a broad grin, she pulled back on the yoke, lifting them into the sky smoothly.

***

"Come on, Sergeant, get on your feet! Get up, damn you, Mal… You're not leaving me here by myself, do you hear me?!" Zoë yelled, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.

Jayne stood watch over them, cursing to himself, the fact that he wished he could be any place but there at that moment apparent in his uneasy stance.

Simon shook his head as the unit in his hands still failed to register a heart beat and began to charge for the fourth time, his eyes meeting Zoë's compassionately. 'One more time' her gaze said back, and he nodded, motioning her away from Mal's head as he pressed the shock button one last time.

Silence settled over them and Zoë dropped her head to Mal's chest in anguished resignation as Simon closed his eyes in defeat.

It had already been four minutes - four minutes - since he'd tried to start Mal's heart again. Simon knew the odds of survival were low by that point, and God knew how long he'd been lying there beforehand. It was too long. They were just too late. He was too late.

Opening his eyes, he reached out to lay his hand on Zoë's shoulder, pausing as a light flickered on the defibrillator, his mouth opening in astonishment as first one and then another beep registered on the AED, and then another as Mal's heart finally began to beat a slow, unsteady rhythm. "Wait!" he shouted, grabbing Zoë's shoulder frantically. "I've got a pulse!"

Zoë's head snapped up in shock and she stared down at Mal's face fiercely. "That's right you wang ba dan," she said, searching for any signs of consciousness. "You fight!"

"He still ain't breathing," she said, turning to Simon, a question in her eyes.

"CPR," Simon said, nodding in approval as Zoë began breathing for Mal without hesitation. He leaned back, looking down at the captain, somehow not surprised that Mal, of all people, could come back from the brink of death again and again and again.

Not that he was out of danger, by any means. He needed treatment, and he needed it now, and the simple truth was, no matter how hard they had fought to save him, realistically there was no time to get him back to Serenity. And without the infirmary's equipment… Simon didn't have to be a doctor to understand the ramifications. Mal wouldn't make it.

Despondent, he turned to Inara and checked her over, cursing himself anew when he found the wound at her pelvis that was pumping her blood out at an alarming rate. He cut through her pants so he could get a better look and cursed again. An artery was obviously cut – not fully, she'd already be dead by now if it had been – but nicked enough that it was a serious problem, and one he could do nothing about here. He needed his infirmary, damnit!

Simon hung his head, one hand pulling at his hair in frustration. He wasn’t going to be able to save them… He frowned as a sudden low, distant roar became audible, quickly growing to deafening proportions and he looked up through the glass of the domed ceiling in confusion. His eyes widened, amazed as Shuttle Two came into view, slowly circling the Salle and sinking behind the walls.

"Kaylee!" he whispered, a surge of renewed hope galvanizing him into action. Frantically, he began packing up his medical bag.

Zoë looked up at the sound in surprise, her face lighting with a fierce smile as Mal drew in a sudden, ragged breath, his chest finally rising on its own. "Yes!" she exclaimed, hope surging through her.

"We need to get them to the shuttle!" Simon said, in control once again. "Quickly but carefully. Try not to jostle them more than necessary!" he added for Jayne's benefit.

"Here," said Zoë hurriedly, unrolling Mal's browncoat and laying it on the floor beside him. Simon nodded and together they lifted Mal onto the makeshift stretcher.

"Jayne," Simon motioned for the mercenary to take his place. "On three," he said, and Jayne and Zoë hoisted the unconscious captain up, the coat supporting his body between them. As quickly as they could, they shuffled over to where Williams – Simon had completely forgotten about the other man but was thankful for his presence now – held the exterior door open and carried Mal out onto the grassy courtyard.

Simon checked Inara's vitals again, still worried but satisfied she should be alright until they reached the ship, and crossed her arms over her body in preparation for the crew's return. "Come on, come on!" he muttered impatiently. How long did it take--?

His head snapped up as Zoë and Jayne ran back inside. "Hurry!" he said, standing as they laid out the coat and repeated the process with Inara, moving considerably faster with her lighter weight.

They emerged into the courtyard, Simon shading his eyes from the sunlight that streamed down through the hazy clouds of smoke billowing above the manor as the house - and the bodies still inside - burned, the acrid smell heavy in the air. He covered his mouth against the stench as he followed Zoë and Jayne, moving past several of Williams' men who had gathered and taken up defensive positions around the grassy square, dark silhouetted sentinels barely visible through the haze, lending a sense of surrealism to the moment. Simon wondered if this was what it was always like, in the middle of battle, and how anyone could ever get used to it.

They reached the shuttle at last, and he saw Kaylee at the hatch, eyes awash in tears, hands twisting together as she stared at Inara in distress. He moved toward her, his face amazed. "How did you know--?" he asked, eyes going wide in relief as River emerged from the cockpit, grinning madly. "Mei mei!" he exclaimed, rushing to embrace her.

"Flew!" she said happily, then pulled back and gave him a piercing look. "In time?"

Simon stared at her, swallowing at the implications of her question, but he was jolted from his thoughts as Zoë called for him, the urgency of the moment washing over him again. "We've got to get them back to the ship, right away," he said, turning and entering the rear of the shuttle as the first mate pushed her way into the cockpit.

Jayne maneuvered his way forward as the shuttle lifted off, casting a look over his shoulder to ensure the doctor was occupied before striding up to River menacingly. "Where is it?" he demanded, holding his hand out impatiently.

River's face lit in a wide smile and she pulled the large caliber pistol out from behind her back, handing it over with a roll of her eyes as the big man snatched it from her fingers with a glare, immediately examining the weapon for any damage like it was his most precious possession.

Finally, he turned to look at her again, puzzled. "Thought you said you needed it?" he said, confused. "Ain't even been fired."

"Served its purpose," she replied.

*

Below them, rapidly disappearing in the distance, Whelton Thomas slowly opened his eyes, blinking in confusion as he tried to move his bound hands, head aching as his ears were suddenly flooded with the high pitched whine of several firearms being primed and cocked. Slowly, he turned his head and looked up, heart sinking as he came face to face with the business ends of the seven waiting pistols the Lawmen had aimed at his person.

Williams crouched down in front of the bounty hunter, clapping his good hand on the prisoner's shoulder. "Well, well, well," he said, lips curved in a sardonic smile. "Howdy, Whelt."

***

The hours passed unbearably slowly, tension palpable in air throughout the entire ship as though Serenity herself held her breath as Simon strove to save the lives of her captain and companion.

Outside the infirmary, Kaylee sat on the yellow couch, arms wrapped tight around herself, half the time staring at Mal and Inara through the glass windows, and the rest of the time unable to look.

Wash sat beside her in silence, elbows resting on his knees. The normally jovial pilot was pale and tired - still woozy after donating as much of his own blood as he'd been able, stopping only when Simon had absolutely forced him to. And still, he knew it might not be enough.

Jayne had headed to the cargo bay almost immediately after they'd arrived back on Serenity, the steady clank of his weights drifting down from above them as he worked off his restlessness, unable to simply stay sitting still.

Also restless, River paced the lower deck ceaselessly, eyes faraway as she mumbled thoughts to herself in a never-ending conversation of one, her voice rising occasionally as she seemed to argue with herself before sinking back to her half-audible babble. The rest of them left her alone, as she was quieter that way than when they tried to get her to sit down or stop pacing – the fewer distractions for Simon the better.

All of them waited anxiously while inside the operating room Zoe and the Shepherd did their best to assist, faces grim and silent, their up-close vantage point telling them just how bad things were.

At last, hours later and well into the night, Simon emerged from the infirmary, face pale and eyes heavy.

"How are they?" asked Kaylee, standing hurriedly and rushing to his side.

The doctor let out a weary breath, giving a slight shake of his head. "They're both stable, finally," he said, running his hands over his face with a yawn.

"But, they're going to be okay?" asked Wash.

"Barring any further complications…." the doctor said, shrugging slightly, unable to offer them any more than that." It's up to them now."

"So, what do we do?" Kaylee asked, the question echoed in the eyes of the rest of the crew as they looked to Simon for the answer.

He sighed. "We wait," he said resignedly. There was nothing more they could do.

Part 14B