Unfinished Business

Chapter Seventeen

“You did . . . what?” “I kinda . . . sold Sir Arnold into slavery,” admitted Mal, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Well, to be technical, it was a twenty-year indenture contract with the Atlas Development and Exploitation Corporation, but it’ll feel enough like slavery as to make no never mind.” “You sold . . . a Persephonian nobleman . . . and a government official . . . not to mention an Alliance Military Intelligence station chief . . . into slavery . . . with a bare-rock terraformer?” Rachel asked, astonished. “We’d pretty much finished with him,” Mal defended. “And somethin’ popped in that data dump on ‘im we got from Badger. Appears he’s not just a stockholder in the firm, but sits on the board as well. So I just figured he wouldn’t mind an up-close and personal look at the inner workings. Good exercise of his fiduciary duty, not to mention a primo spot to stash him while we put some mile between us and his jurisdiction. So I had Doc dope him up, then had Jayne pour a couple o’ shots down his throat and take him down to the recruitment center. He’ll be wakin’ up in the orientation cell about . . . now,” Mal said, glancing at the chronometer. “Oh . . . my . . . GOD that’s funny!” laughed Rachel. “Oh, it gets better,” Mal assured her. “Do tell!” “We let it slip while he was tied up in that container that we were off-planet mercenaries working for that joker the Dogfather that Badger’s taken such a shine to. Real subtle, o’ course, just a few words. But he’ll work it out. And by the time he gets out he’ll be in quite a mood to deal with him.” “Why’s that?” “Well, Jayne, he’s got a wicked sense o’ humor that’s about three days past sadistic – you fly with the man awhile, you’ll see the unpleasant truth yourself. So not only did he sign him up with Atlas – and pocket a hefty bounty – but the man was so doped up Jayne registered him as ‘Girly McDicklips’. Listed his previous occupation as ‘cabaret towel boy’. He’s likely not gonna have trouble makin’ new friends in the holding cell, before he ships out.” “When’s that?” Rachel asked with a mixture of horror and amusement. “In about three days. O’course, couldn’t let the man go out that way, despite my deep loathing of him on general principals. So I arraigned for Badger to come in and buy up his contract about three hours before departure. He’ll take the man out of there and restore him to his rightful place atop his manure pile. Three days gone, a little worse for wear, perhaps, but the ‘verse ain’t gonna stop turnin’ because of his absence. No harm done. And now, Badger has an in with a highly-placed government official and we have a direct link to Alliance Military Intelligence, should we want to seed them with misinformation.” “Oh, Mal,” Rachel said, wiping her eyes after laughing so hard. “I can’t believe you, you’re . . . psychotic. No other word for it. I always knew you had the talent – just glad you were on our side!” She calmed herself a bit. “You get what we were after?” Mal tossed a flexi onto the kitchen table. “Every precious bit. And then some,” he said, casually. Rachel picked up the sheet and started scanning it. Her eyes grew large as she saw the depth and completeness of the data. “Y’know, I feel kinda funny about it. I never sold no one into bondage afore.” “You . . . this is all of it, you’re right, every code we need . . . Oh, God, there’s stuff here . . . Mal, what the hell did you do to the man to make him talk like this?” she demanded, her eyes wide in disbelief. “You were with him for only four hours or so. I know a bit about interrogation, I think, and usually it takes four hours just to warm a client up!” “You have your methods, I have mine,” Mal said, smugly. “I got the job done, didn’t I?” “Well . . . yes, brilliantly. All of it. The set up. The execution. The interrogation, even the clean-up. I badly underestimated your people. I apologize for any misgivings I had.” “That’s how we get along,” Mal said with a satisfied sigh. “Keeping people underestimatin’ us. Though I admit, this job went smoother an’ sweeter than usual. Ordinarily we wouldn’t have ‘Nara playin’ ‘femme fatale’ like that – queer seein’ her as a blonde. An’ I didn’t count on Arnold’s secretary working in our favor like that, either. But Jayne and Zoe, they slipped into their roles as disaffected Browncoat mercenaries quite well . . . and o’course River an’ your own self in the flyer.” “It definitely showed finesse, subtlety, and initiative,” agreed Rachel, still scanning the flexi. “I always had you figured as the ‘club them over the head’ type.” “Only ‘cause you remember me in my courtin’ days,” Mal said with a smirk. “Besides, you’re the only one that ever hit him.” “Felt good, too. Relaxin’. I just . . . I can’t believe you got this level of detail . . . in four hours. Ai ya! Did you know Sir Arnold was supposed to make contact with his superiors on Londinium last night?” “He was otherwise occupied.” “I still want to know how you done it.” “As a former Independent officer, you should be used to disappointment by now.” “Mal—!” “Trade secrets,” Mal shrugged. “I’ll find out,” Rachel vowed. “Good luck with that. So . . . we still head for Amphora Station?” “That’s the plan . . . no changes, according to my last report.” “I’ll have River set course. That will take us nigh on three days, if the weather’s with us. And the Feds don’t notice us.” “What’s to notice?” Rachel shrugged. “Just another rattletrap transport skulkin’ through the Black. We got legitimate business, y’know.” “Yeah, thirty gorram crates of it,” Mal said, making a face. “What am I s’posed to do with that much low-end protein base?” “We got a use,” Rachel assured him. “All part of our brilliant plan. ’Sides, didn’t cost you nothin’. And it makes a great cover. You can haul protein anywhere and get a decent price for it. Folk gotta eat.” “And it also makes a good place to hide a bunch o’ shi-niu, don’t it?” “It’s clean, I promise. Just a bunch o’ harmless protein.” “Fine. You might want to get your report waved before we get outa range o’ the relay. I’m gonna get washed up – whatever ‘Nara’s cookin’ up smells like the sweet taste of young love,” Mal said reverently. “I’m on it,” agreed Rachel. “And Mal?” “Yeah?” “That was truly fine work. Your mama’d be proud.” A tangled cloud of emotions flew across Reynolds’ face before he sighed, looking at his feet. “Actually,” he said, very quietly, “It’s more the sorta thing Dad would have done.” “Might could be,” considered Rachel. “But there was a reason she was fond o’ him, and it weren’t his impeccable table manners. Daddy always said Joe Reynolds was half pirate an’ half prince an’ all rogue. Big admirer o’ your Dad, he was.” Mal swallowed, hard. “Yeah,” he said, voice just over a whisper. “Me, too.” Rachel didn’t look for the glint of tear in his eye. She didn’t need to.

*

*

*

“I love doin’ it in the mornings,” Kaylee sighed as she flopped down on the bed next to Simon. “You love doing it . . . all the time,” Simon replied as he panted for breath. “All . . . the . . . time . . .” he said as he closed his eyes. He really did prefer the quiet neatness of his quarters for sleeping . . . and not sleeping. It was a bit Spartan, perhaps, considering everything of value he owned could be put in a pathetically small bag. A few trinkets, a vase, simple and elegant. He liked it here. The mattress wasn’t as lumpy as Kaylee’s, and he didn’t have to worry about finding spare tools in his bedding when he moved around at night. “Can’t help it,” Kaylee agreed. “Healthy girl, healthy libido. That . . . is the proper term, ain’t it?” she asked, hesitantly. “For bein’ horny?” “Yes,” Simon said, deadpan. “Freud giggled hysterically whenever he said ‘horny’, so he came up with ‘libido’ instead.” “Why can’t folk just call it what it is?” she asked, absently. “Can’t be satisfied with the real word, so they come up with somethin’ don’t sound half right. Especially sex words. ‘Penis’. ‘Vagina’. Who the hell calls ‘em that, ‘less somethin’ ails ‘em?” “True, they aren’t very romantic,” Simon said, rolling over to face her. “But they have their uses. Say you were putting on a space suit—” “Shhhh!” Kaylee interrupted, her eyes opening suddenly. “What--?” “You hear that?” she asked, listening intently. “Hear what?” “That!” “That . . . hum? That hiss? That click? That mob of angry peasants? Looking for a noun, here, darling!” “That . . . thud. Cyclin’ every . . . six seconds. Thud. Thud. Thud . . .” “Thud, yes, a technical term I take it?” “An’ there’s a discharge o’ some sort just before. Hiisss Thud! Hissss Thud!” “And . . . that’s entertaining?” Simon asked, mystified. “No. No! That Thud ain’t supposed to be there.” “And the hiss? We have snakes?” “I ain’t rightly certain, but I’m thinkin’ not.” “And this is significant?” “Simon, I know every noise the girl makes, inside an’ out,” Kaylee insisted, patiently. “I can tell a gracious plenty about her from her noises . . . the vibrations . . . the pitch . . . I usually ken what ails her by weeks. But that hissss . . .” “Thud,” Simon finished, noting for the first time that there did seem to be some sort of vibration. And the next cycle around, he caught a hint of the hiss, too. It was just barely there, buried in the background noise – the hundreds of mechanical systems that kept them alive and Serenity aloft – that he had become so accustomed to that he didn’t even hear any more. “Maybe you’re right,” he nodded, shrugging. “What is it?” the engineer asked herself, biting her lip intently. “Can’t be the drive train, woulda felt that . . . or atmo, pressure’s fine . . . hope to God it ain’t secondary power . . . sounds more like compressed air . . . that leaves hydraulics, life support, cooling, aqua, steering— hey, Simon, you got a stethoscope?” “A what?” “Stethoscope?” Kaylee asked, bemused. “One of those doctor thingees? Hangs around your neck? Points towards your—” “I’m familiar with the instrument,” Simon said, dryly. “I just never thought I’d hear you ask for one. A little kinky, I suppose, but—” “If I can put a good ear to ‘er, I might could figure out what’s amiss without getting’ un-naked.” “And you can do that from here? Oh, then by all means,” Simon said, rolling out of bed with only the barest hint of a reluctant groan. “Ordinarily I’d leave it in the infirmary, but I’ve been keeping a basic kit in my quarters in case . . .” he looked up from this medikit. “Um, in case there was a catastrophic systems failure and I had to save someone’s life or something noble like that. Which, I suppose, this could turn into. Here,” he said, tossing her the device before he returned to bed. “You're certain you can figure it out from here?” he asked, skeptically. “No,” Kaylee admitted. “But it’s the easiest thing t’do. And you should always do the easiest thing first.” “Like the chief engineer?” he asked, slyly. “Naughty!” she said, dimpling. “If you don’t mind me kneelin’ like this, I can put my ears right up against the main sub-junction.” “No, I don’t mind at all,” Simon said, agreeably. “Um, just arch your back a little more. More. More. That’s good.” “Stop it!” Kaylee said, giggling despite herself. “I’m doin’ serious chief engineer business, here!” “And in the nude,” Simon said, approvingly. “My God, you’re talented.” “SHHH!” she insisted. Simon relented and let her work, enjoying watching her facial expressions as a window to how her mind worked. She had her eyes closed, but her eyelids fluttered slightly. Her chin worked through four different, distinct positions, and her tongue stuck out just the slightest bit, then moved decisively around her lips. Her head cocked to one side, then the other, and varied the angle regularly. It was inherently sexy. She focused so intently, he could almost see her running through checklists and ship’s schematics in her mind. He began to get aroused. Again. “Umm . . . hmmm. . . no . . . not . . . maybe . . . no . . .” her eyes shot open suddenly, and then narrowed precipitously. “That BITCH!” she snarled, ripping the stethoscope off her ears and bolting for the door. She was out jogging down the corridor, still completely naked, in seconds – long before Simon could react properly. He grabbed his pants, and as an afterthought picked up his bathrobe, though he doubted Kaylee’s modest would be foremost in her mind. That look had meant trouble. “Kaylee!” he hollered at her, only to watch the soles of her feet disappear through the kitchen and up the stairs to the catwalk. He hurried quickly behind, stopping only briefly to zip up his trousers. He had seen in the emergency room all too often the results of a hurried zip, and he had a fond emotional attachment to his scrotum. He caught up with her near the entrance of Inara’s shuttle. She skidded to a halt, then ducked, reached down stuck her hand through an access port he hadn’t noticed before. Not that that was unusual – he didn’t notice most of the technical minutia aboard Serenity. He doubted he ever would. “Kaylee? Je shr guai do?” His girlfriend said nothing, but instead dove halfway down the access and struggled for a moment. There were some startled sounds, so angry sounds, and Simon started to have irrational images of giant mutant space rats. Then Kaylee pulled back, and the truth brought a horror to Simon that no oversized genetically modified transterrestrial vermin could have inspired. Kaylee had both her hands entwined painfully in a very familiar head of hair. River. She was wearing welding goggles and holding a torch, and despite her extensive government-sponsored training as a ruthless killing machine, she was screaming like a little girl on the playground. “Oh, crap,” whispered Simon, the implications crystallizing before him. “Gou tsao de huh chu-shang tsa-jiao duh nien ching-duh bai chi!” Kaylee screeched as she wrestled the younger girl out of the hole. River, for her part, was flailing around wildly, keening in panic. Simon reached in and started to separate the two women, but Kaylee would have none of it. Instead she grabbed River by both shoulders, stood her up, and slammed her against the side of the corridor. “What the HELL do you think you’re doing, little girl?!” demanded Kaylee, furious as she stared River in the eye. “I was—” “You were MOLESTING my ship, right under my gorram nose!” Kaylee accused, answering herself. “The starboard steering thruster was consuming fuel at one point nine two five three percent more than the port side,” River squealed out in a nervous rush, “but was returning only ninety seven point eight two five five five percent thrust off vector!” River said, defensively. “Please don’t hit me!” “I am the gorram engineer on Serenity!” Kaylee shouted at point-blank range, her eyes blazing. “Not you! You get the cockpit! I get every gorram thing else! This is MY ship, sister, an’ any gorram adjustments you want to suggest, or any issues you need to bring to my attention, you do it in the proper gorram way or I’m going to go to your gorram ass with that gorram torch!” “She’s just j-joking, River,” Simon said, apologetically. “No she’s not!” River squeaked. “No,” Kaylee said, with deliberate fire, “I ain’t. I’m responsible for keepin’ this bird in the black. Me, an’ me alone. I don’t let the Cap’n hump with ‘er ‘less he has my say-so! I didn’t let Wash do it! I’ve kept her in th’ sky with spit an’ sweat an’ blood an’ tears an’ the Grace o’ God, and I done it by bein’ aware of every . . . little . . . detail!” “I didn’t mean—” “You don’t talk now!” Kaylee said, setting River on her feet. River promptly crouched and hid her face, rocking slightly. “I don’t care if you’re one o’ my best friends! I don’t care if you’re my boyfriend’s sister and potential future in-law! I don’t care that you got buzzards in the brainpan! I don’t care if you’re a telepathic, psychopathic killin’ machine! You DON’T HUMP WITH MY SHIP OR I’LL SHOW YOU WHAT ‘CRAZY GORRAM BITCH’ REALLY MEANS! DONG MA?” “Yes’m!” River said in a tiny voice, cowering before the naked engineer. Kaylee looked around self-consciously, realizing that she was attracting a crowd . . . and that she was buck naked. “Now, um, git!” “Yes’m!” River said, scurrying away. “But bring me my coveralls from the foot o’ Simon’s bed!” Kaylee called after her. “I gotta put the gorram thing back together again!” “What’s all the hollerin’?” Mal demanded, striding down the catwalk. “I distinctly remember posting a ‘no-hollerin’ – GOD, Kaylee!” he swore, averting his eyes. “Again?!” “Had a good reason this time, Cap,” Kaylee said, not bothering to cover herself. “I was . . . indisposed, all nice and private as per your orders,” she said, looking up at him. “Then I heard a potentially catastrophic alteration of the normal operating parameters of the vessel. I chose to investigate quickly, and that’s why I’m naked an’ Simon’s half naked in the middle of the cargo hold.” “Uh . . .” Mal said, confused. “Don’t understand?” Jayne asked, coming up the stairs from the hold, leer plastered on his face. “Me neither! Can we have that again, Kaylee? Only this time, try to put more feelin’ in it. Use some motion, and . . . talk real slow, so we can understand you.” “I see the tree on your glute is fading,” Simon said, bitterly. “A little,” Jayne conceded. “I don’t feel angry, as of yet, but it ain’t never affected my libido. As a matter of fact,” he said, spreading his arms for Kaylee, “I think I could really use a hug right now.” “Jayne, she might be too polite to kick your stones across the room, and Simon might not do it to save on the job of re-attaching them later,” Inara said, coming out of her shuttle, “But I find myself prepared to do the honor.” “But—!” “Go, Jayne,” Inara repeated. “But I just—?” “Now, Jayne,” Mal added, his patience strained. “You people got intimacy issues,” the beatific mercenary grumbled as he continued on towards his quarters . . . slowly. “I’m gonna be . . . meditatin’ on the great lusty mystery of life,” he added. “In my bunk!” “Captain, may I borrow your sidearm?” Inara asked coolly. “I’m goin!” “Now,” Mal said, his hand on the back of his neck as he tried to parse through it, “you . . . heard a noise, thought there was a problem and . . . were in too much of a hurry to dress. What caused the noise?” “Your new pilot,” Kaylee said, acidly. “I can’t argue with you usin’ her, Cap – she’s a good one, no mistake. But the girl needs to learn to keep her mitts off of MY girl’s innards. She took it upon herself to ‘correct’ a ‘deviation’. She didn’t do no harm I can set aright, but still . . . she oughta gorram know better!” She whirled around to Simon. “What kinda humped-up manners they teach on your fancy Central planet, that any ol’ body can mess with somebody else’s sandbox?” “River has always had some . . . boundary issues,” Simon said, hesitantly. “She’s . . . look, I don’t want to get into the middle of this, but . . . she is crazy. I believe we established that. I mean, she’s a lot better, but she’s still brain damaged. She’s having a hard time adjusting to having real responsibilities, I think. This is her . . . first real job, after all. Usually she’d be working as a sales clerk or a teaching assistant but you know River. She goes for . . . spaceship pilot.” He trailed off, unconvinced by his own reasoning. “I’ll talk to her,” he said with a deep sigh. “No, I’ll talk to her,” Mal said, decisively. “This is my boat. I’m her boss. She either follows my rules or I’ll fly the damn boat myself.” “I could talk to her,” suggested Inara quickly, the implications of Mal as permanent pilot weighing on her mind. “No, my job,” Mal insisted. “No brothers. No friends. Doc’s right: she got responsibilities. She needs to know it. Wrong way and my way, and she needs to learn that quick.” “She’s just a little . . . fragile,” Simon said, lamely. “When will you quit holding her arm, Simon?” Inara asked quietly. “Yeah,” Kaylee said, suddenly focusing her attention on Simon. “When? You keep defendin’ her like she’s helpless!” “She’s just a child!” “She’s a woman grown, you know,” Kaylee shot back. “Of age. She ain’t in a hospital no more, or in school. She’s a workin’ woman. When you gonna let her get hurt proper?” “That’s a little sadistic, don’t you think?” Simon asked skeptically. “What is this, employee enrichment, frontier style? Push her out the airlock and see if she can swim?” “Doctor, look at it from this standpoint,” Inara said, sadly. “This is the frontier. There is no training program, really, and the pilot is an essential crewman. So is the engineer. They work together, everything is as it should be. They work at cross purposes, and we could all perish.” “I don’t like it any more than you do,” Mal agreed. “But that’s the way of it. The training is on-the-job and there ain’t no make-up exam. I saw plenty die in the War who shouldn’t have, ‘cause they didn’t have the luxury of proper military training. Learnin’ the way o’ things. Your sister, she’s a bright girl. She got brains I didn’t know existed. She is a good pilot – but there’s more to it than pushing the ship across the sky. Gotta work together. Gotta learn to take orders. No room here for ‘boundary issues’.” “Fine,” Simon said, sullenly. He remembered River’s own recent admonition to butt out of her life. Perhaps they were right. He looked from Kaylee, to Mal, to Inara, his jaw clenched tightly. “Piece of advice? Wait until she calms down a little before you try to speak with her. Then you go ahead and yell and threaten to . . . give her lashes, or however you people do things. But I warned you: she’s mentally ill, and devious beyond her years, not to mention a trained assassin and a moody teenager. So don’t come crying to me when she gets all depressed and depressurizes the ship, or something equally dramatic, because you hurt her feelings.” “You let me contend with that, son,” Mal said. “She ain’t the worse crewman I ever had. And this ain’t the biggest screw-up. But I gotta agree with Kaylee . . . she has to know her place. I’ll handle it. That’s my job,” he said, not looking at Simon. “Mal,” Inara prompted. “Kaylee’s face is up . . . here?” she reminded him, putting a finger on his chin and pushing. Mal realized what he was doing with a start and turned away. “I’ll just, uh, wait until, uh, you can get dressed,” he said, uncomfortably. “And I’ll be in my quarters,” Simon said, controlling his emotions with significant effort. “Waiting for the emergency klaxons to go off. If they still work, that is,” he said, turning on his heel. “And I’ll be out of your gorram way, Doctor Tam,” Kaylee shouted after him, “as soon as I get my gorram coveralls—” The garment in question flew out of the corridor, past Simon’s shoulder, and landed in a sloppy ball across Kaylee’s face. “—back!” “What’s the fussin’ about?” Rachel asked, coming up the stairs. She glanced at the open compartment, the discarded tools, and a naked Kaylee tugging on her clothes. “Ai ya, first Cobb, now you – is this is the first ‘clothing optional’ band o’ outlaws I ever saw! When am I gonna get a gander of you’re tushie, Mal?” “Keep it up, it might be sooner than you think,” mumbled Mal, darkly. “It ain’t, uh, usually like this.” “Oh, don’t be silly, Malcolm,” Inara said, affecting a social giggle suitable for cruise directors and bubbly socilites, “haven’t you told our guest about the co-ed nude horseshoe tournament at midnight?” “Everyone’ll be there,” Kaylee said with a grin as she shrugged into the arms of her coverall. “Jewelry?” Rachel inquired, eyebrows raised. “Oh, informal. Think evening casual, just a little nipple rouge,” Inara insisted. “But might be best to get the lawn mowed aforehand,” Kaylee said, zipping up. “Girl never can tell who might attend one o’ those things.” “Good point,” nodded Rachel, who was fighting laughter. “I’ll tend to that presently. Wouldn’t wanna go to an event lookin’ all shaggy.” “That’s not really a problem for me,” Inara said, airily, then fixed Mal with a pointed stare. An evil grin followed in quick order. “There is ENTIRELY too much gorram estrogen on this boat right now,” Mal said, blushing furiously as he stalked away in the face of a barrage of hysterical giggles.

*

* *

“Jayne? Could I speak to you for a moment?” Simon asked, calling down the ladder well into Jayne’s quarters. It took a moment for the unshaven mercenary to appear, his eyes wide in surprise. “Doc? You wanna . . . see me?” “As strange as it might sound, yes,” Simon said with a heavy sigh. “Come on down. But I warn ya, my maid’s done died o’ the clap.” “I remember,” Simon said, dryly, recalling an unpleasant stint when he had been forced to become the man’s roommate. Despite the shudder of horror that the thought brought to him, he climbed down anyway. The air was thick with cigar smoke and the smell of gun oil and . . . something else that Simon did not try too hard to figure out. Some things it was best just not to know. “What’s on yer mind, Doc?” Jayne asked. When Simon reached the bottom, he was surprised to see the mercenary was involved in decorating his room in a crude but brazen pattern of leaves. “This . . . I didn’t see coming,” confessed Simon in wonder. “Huh? Oh, the . . . art,” Jayne said, guiltily. “Yeah, started to do it when you turned me loose from th’ infirmiry. Don’t know why. It’s like I got . . . feelin’s or somethin’, and I can . . . get ‘em out o’ my head, y’know . . . express ‘em, like this.” “But . . . leaves? I always figured you were more of a . . . skulls and snakes sort of man.” “Yeah, ordinarily you’d be dead right,” Jayne said, uncomfortably. “It’s that damn tree on my ass. Makes me feel all . . . pastoral. I don’t even know what that means, but . . .” he looked around, a trace of shame and panic on his face. Then he spotted Simon and found something familiar to grasp. “You got a purpose bein’ down here, Doc? Or you just gonna criticize?” “Oh! No, no, I find it quite . . . pretty. In a robust, manly sort of way,” he amended, when the outlaw looked at him sharply. “I was just wondering . . . well, I actually wanted to—” “Spit it out,” commanded Jayne. “I’m feelin’ a lily or somethin’ comin’ on. You don’t want to see that.” “I wanted to hide,” admitted Simon. “I needed to find someplace that people wouldn’t expect me to be. Someplace with alcohol. I put two and two together, and . . .” “And you think you can run away from your problems and crawl into a bottle,” finished Jayne, with a touch of disgust in his voice. “Yes, please, that sounds perfect,” agreed Simon. “Do you have any liquor? All of mine seems to be in Kaylee’s room, and she’s . . . one of the people I’m trying to avoid.” The plea was sincere and earnest. Jayne looked up and stared at him for a moment, before jerking his head towards the shelf against the outer bulkhead. “Bottle of plum liquor, bottom shelf. Glasses on the left. Make sure you look ‘fore you pour. Ain’t no tellin’ the last time they was properly clean.” “Perfect,” sighed Simon, not bothering to complain about the cleanliness of the cups. He reasoned the alcohol would sterilize anything really nasty. And there were always antibiotics. “So what’s got you runnin’ scared?” Jayne asked, conversationally. “Well, let’s see,” Simon said as he poured, his agitation clear in his voice. “My girlfriend is pissed at my sister for unapproved maintenance, my sister is pissed at me for not standing up on her behalf, Kaylee is pissed at me for not backing her against River, Mal is having a psychotic fit masquerading as an employee review of River, Inara is half-mad with identity issues, Zoë isn’t pregnant and it’s somehow my fault, we’re on a mission against the Alliance to uncover a particularly nasty war crime, I’m still, technically, wanted by the Feds . . . did I miss anything?” Jayne shrugged. “Crazy soldier of fortune with an ass-full of happy juice?” “Actually, you’re the least of my irritants right now,” admitted Simon, sipping the liquor. “I never thought I’d say that.” Jayne eyed his cup. “You’re gonna want more than that,” he advised, reaching out and taking the glass Simon had poured for him. “I’ll adjust the dose accordingly. How the hell did I get here?” he asked with exasperation. “I didn’t want a girlfriend. Not really,” he said, guiltily. “I mean, I really like Kaylee, she’s . . . very attractive, and quite lusty,” he said, smiling despite himself. “Yeah?” Jayne asked expectantly. “Got a nice set of—” “Yes, her physical endowments are very exciting, I think we’ve established that. But I . . . hell, maybe Mal is right: shipboard romances never work,” he finished sourly. “Nah,” Jayne dismissed. “He’s got his own issues – control, mostly, but plenty of intimacy problems. And trust – man’s got some severe trust concerns. But he uses that whole ‘no shipboard romances’ to make him feel better about his own advancing age and the fact that he ain’t had no kids by now. Not even a steady piece. Zoë and Wash, they challenged that. They was an effective functioning heterosexual unit in the face of great adversity, and they made it work, in a half-assed sorta way. An’ now you an’ Kaylee come along in their wake with your courtin’ an’ spoonin’ an’ screwin’ and make him aware of some personal deficiencies. With what he’s been through, he’s strugglin’ between the desire for security a family would present and the fear of an uncertain’ ‘verse. That Browncoat babe’s presence gotta remind him o’ home, a life he can’t return to. Kinda makes ya . . . pity the man,” Jayne said, sadly. “That . . . was nearly profound and insightful,” Simon said with a nervous swallow of liquor. “That drug has certainly had an interesting effect on you.” “Hell, I wanna puke in my own mouth, sayin’ all that weak-assed touchy-feely go se,” admitted Jayne sourly, putting down his brush. “I know, I know, it’s just a phase.” “Yes, you should be back to your murderous self before you know it,” agreed the doctor. “God, I hope so,” Jayne said, draining his cup and holding it out for more. “Any more of this sensitive lan dan jiang, I’m gonna cut my own gorram throat.” “Cheers,” Simon said, filling his glass enthusiastically.