Author's note: Sorry for the very long delay! How many of you thought I'd given up on this story entirely? :) Hope you enjoy the new chapter. New to the story? Previous chapters on my site here: serenityverse.com.

~~~~~

Wash and Zoe were already sitting at the dining table, leaning against each other in silent relaxation with arms comfortably intertwined when Mal walked in.

Mal yawned sleepily and scratched his head. His hair was mussed as though he’d just risen from bed, and he sniffed the appealing aromas of breakfast wafting from the galley. “Wash, go grab our stowaway,” he said.

Wash made an indignant gesture. “Um – hello, relaxing here.” His voice took on a sarcastically soothing tone. “I think you can manage it, Mal. He’s not so scary when you get to know him. He won’t hurt a sleepy captain like you.”

“Sleepy captain’s like to wind up dragging ‘im out by the hair. The lazy pilot might spare ‘im the ordeal, if he had a kindly bone in ‘is body….” Mal suggested pointedly.

~~~~~

Harper tensed as a light knock rapped on the door of his cabin. A few moments later the door slid open to reveal the friendly face of the guy who’d sat in the cabin with him, and Harper relaxed a bit.

“Hey, kiddo,” said Wash cheerfully. “Wanna come join us for breakfast?”

Harper nodded and stood stiffly, a little sorry to leave. He’d just spent quite possibly the most comfortable night of his life in this little cabin, and he wasn’t quite ready to part with that feeling.

He followed Wash down the hallway, and the doctor flagged them down, jogging up from the infirmary holding an injection gun. Harper, slightly terrified but remembering what it had felt like to actually sleep without being in pain, forced himself to stand still while the doctor gave him the shot.

He glanced up afterwards, backing up slightly towards Wash. “Thanks, doc,” he ventured.

Simon smiled. “Slept well last night, did you?” Harper nodded, trying to balance the utter loathing he felt for this guy for stripping him down in front of everyone and poking and prodding him without so much as a by your leave with the gratitude he felt for this blessed relief from pain.

Simon walked back down to the infirmary, and Harper followed Wash into the dining area where the rest of the crew was gathering. “Ah, there he is,” greeted Mal. He waved at an empty chair. “Have a seat. Shepherd decided to cook for us this morning, an’ that ain’t something you want to miss.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, looking around for whatever they wanted him to serve them with.

“Uh, I want you to have a seat,” replied Mal. “In a general way, that’s what people do, when they’re about to eat.”

Harper stared. The most delicious scents were coming from the kitchen, and he couldn’t quite believe they were actually going to let him eat with the crew. He sat, and felt somehow happy when Wash took a seat next to him. He looked around the table in fascination, and awkwardly tried to figure out what he was supposed to do with himself. He’d sat at an actual dining table on very few occasions in his life; most of the time eating for him involved wolfing down scraps on the run, or choking down some rancid crap that had just been thrown into a cell or onto a scrap heap.

“Um – you don’t want me to serve you?” asked Harper unbelievingly. “You’re gonna let me eat with the crew?”

Mal stood and approached Harper grimly, following as he jumped out of his chair and backed up in fear until his back was pressed against the lockers lining the wall. “Young man, I don’t ever want to hear that again. You want to spend the rest of your life a slave, you go right ahead and keep on acting like one. That’s what you want, I got a set of handcuffs and a cozy cage for you in the cargo bay. But if you’re still the one that risked torture and death for freedom, maybe its time you started acting like it.”

Harper looked up at him and gulped. Mal grabbed him by the shoulders and glared directly into his eyes. “Well? What’s it gonna be?”

“Let go of me! Please!” yelped Harper.

“You gonna beg for mercy, or you gonna stand up for yourself and make me?” asked Mal, his words lethally cold.

“Let go of me!” yelled Harper, landing a vicious kick on Mal’s knee and wrenching free.

Mal staggered slightly and grabbed his knee, looking up at Harper with a pained grin. “Felt good, didn’t it?”

Harper gave a satisfied nod, and Mal clapped him softly on the shoulder. “Let’s have some breakfast, shall we?”

A very confused but exhilarated Harper followed Mal back to the table and re-took his seat next to Wash. “You should be flattered, you know,” said Wash. “The captain doesn’t let just anyone beat up on him.”

“Yeah,” complained Jayne with a hurt expression on his face. “You never let me hit you. Wanted to, too.” He flung a large scoop of egg-flavored protein mix onto his plate and shoved the serving dish in Harper’s direction.

“Go ahead, any time you feel like dying,” said Zoe. Jayne looked at her uneasily, unable to figure if she was joking or not.

“Just kidding, Mal,” said Jayne hurriedly. “And Zoe.” He focused his attention raptly on the food, hoping to escape further retribution.

“You seem tired,” said Inara softly, looking at Kaylee. The mechanic’s eyes were red, her hair un-brushed. Her face was strained and tired, lacking its usual sunny cheer.

Kaylee smiled artificially at Inara’s words. “It’s shiny. Just ain’t gettin’ much sleep, worriyin’ about the reactor goin’ all wobbly and not bein’ able to fix it right is all.”

“I got a wobbly reactor?” asked Mal, his ears almost visibly perking up. “You din’t tell me I had a wobbly reactor.” He looked at Kaylee for a moment, his forehead crinkling in a frown. “What – whatzat mean……wobbly?”

“Means I don’t know what’s wrong with it, cap’n. Something just ain’t right, an’ I been worrying on it,” answered Kaylee, her eyes focusing more on the coffee pot than on Mal.

“Well, how ‘bout a little less worrying, and more figurin’ out what’s the matter,” said Mal firmly. “An – if it’s gonna kill us, I require 48 hours advance notice, you hear me?”

“What, so you can finally bed ‘Nara?” asked Jayne, arching an eyebrow suggestively.

“I would hope that the impending end of your life would prompt some deeper reflection than the exploration of your carnal urges,” interjected the Shepherd dryly.

“Deeper? Ain’t nothin’ deeper than that,” protested Jayne. “An’ it was the captain’s carnal urges I was referrin’ to.”

“An’ the captain’s getting a mite discomforted havin’ his carnal urges discussed at the breakfast table,” interrupted Mal.

“What, captain?” asked Inara with a graceful smile. “Are you saying you do have – carnal urges – for me? I thought you saved yourself for beautiful con artists who want to murder you and your crew.”

Mal’s jaw dropped, and he looked as though he’d been slapped as he wordlessly watched Inara stand and leave the table. Kaylee was perhaps the only person who saw the hurt in the captain’s eyes, masked as it was behind his humorously startled expression.

“I wouldn’t mind discussing your carnal urges,” said Wash, turning to his wife and tracing his hand seductively up her arm as he leaned towards her. Zoe laughed and pushed him back firmly, to which Wash responded with a theatrical pout.

“Hey!” said Harper. “How come I’m the only one here who isn’t discussing his carnal urges? The Harper has a great deal to say about that, you know.”

“I’m not,” said Simon dryly. “But I’m getting that being a crazed sex fiend is a requirement for this conversation.”

River smiled at Harper; it was no ordinary smile, but one filled with brilliance and sunshine. “I wasn’t discussing it,” she said in a perfectly flirtatious voice, “but I’m highly suggestible.” She batted her eyebrows with unmistakable intent as she caressed her water glass with her fingers and leaned forward. “It comes with being crazy, you know. Simon said it, I can’t control my urges.”

“River!” burst Simon, his mouth agape as he struggled for words. “River, no!” He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her gently back, away from Harper. “Where – what – you can’t talk like that!”

“It’s okay with me,” said Harper. “She can talk like that all day and – all night – long.” He grinned happily at River.

“Simon, let me go,” protested River, pushing at him. “I’m a big girl, I can marry whoever I want to.”

Simon’s expression of shock and horror deepened. “River – mei mei – I don’t know where you learned to act like this, but it’s not right. You’re a child, a teenager. It’s not – it’s not appropriate, do you understand that?”

The conversation was interrupted by Mal, scraping his chair back with deliberate loudness as he stood and spoke sharply. “That’s – about double the uncomfortableness I can take from the average breakfast. Harper and I were just leaving, might I suggest continuing your conversation in the infirmary? Maybe with the aid of powerful drugs?”

~~~~~

Mal gestured to Harper to accompany him, and led the stowaway to the privacy of the corridor. Harper followed cautiously, now completely confused by the captain and more than a little uneasy about the emptiness of said corridor. When Mal stopped and faced Harper, the young man wasn’t entirely certain whether he should plead for mercy or kick him again.

Mal answered the issue by fixing Harper with an unyielding stare. “All right, young man. Ground rules. You’re to be escorted at all times by Wash, Shepherd Book, Zoe, or myself. Where we go, you go.”

Harper looked at the floor sullenly, bitterly resenting being ordered around and kept under guard. The fact that it was a summer camp compared to where he had come from crossed his mind, but he loathed the very concept of being held captive again, gilded cage or no. He glared up at Mal, knowing he was crossing the line and not particularly caring. “Sounds a lot like being a prisoner, mister ‘stand up for yourself and don’t let anyone treat you like a slave’. Can I kick you again?”

Mal sighed and scratched his forehead momentarily, formulating his reply. This young man was a bewildering mix of foolhardy and sharply intelligent, and Mal held a sneaking suspicion that was going to add up to his own self developing a massive headache. “You are a prisoner,” he replied bluntly. “Now, that’s a humiliating and unlikable position to be in, but you’re far from being a slave on this ship, an’ getting further away by the mile.”

Mal continued, not giving the boy a chance to respond. “It’s your responsibility to stick with us. If you’re asked to help with something do it, but if not you’re to keep clear. You wind up off on your own or disobey orders, you’ll be confined to quarters for the rest of the journey, no second chances. Do I make myself clear?”

Harper gulped, looking away uncomfortably. “Look at me, son,” commanded Mal. Harper obeyed reluctantly, meeting his eyes. “I expect you to treat me and my crew with respect. That works in reverse on this ship. You’re hungry, tired, or you need pain meds, you make it known and we’ll see to your needs. You keen on havin’ someone to talk to, we got a Shepherd an’ all manner of friendly folk on board. Dong ma?”

Harper nodded reluctantly, the hurt and indignation on his face softening a fraction. Mal was stubbornly waiting for a reply. “Fine,” spat Harper.

“Shiny,” said Mal, waving down the hall as he wondered how in seven hells Harper had survived as a slave. “Ever been on a Firefly before?” Harper shook his head. “I’ll show you about the place. Won’t take long, not much to see on her, but she makes a good home.”

“Or a good jail,” muttered Harper under his breath, just loudly enough for the captain to hear. Mal broke stride, but thought better of what he planned to say and continued silently down the corridor.

Mal pretended not to notice that Harper pointedly ignoring his guided tour as the young man paced beside him, stubbornly silent and meeting his eyes with an icy glare every time he stopped to explain something. Mal ignored the barbs, keeping his voice calm and soft as he led the young man through the ship, explaining the workings as they went.

Finally he stopped just outside the bridge and faced Harper grimly. Harper planted his hands on his hips and glared at him as Mal spoke. “Gonna be like this the whole way, son?”

“Like what?" burst out Harper furiously. "You're parading me around on your nice little museum tour, pointing out cozy corner A and reactor B, showing me how nice and friendly you all are, right after you tell me I get to spend the next however the heck many weeks on a leash, as your prisoner! Find another dog to walk, you psychotic jerk," snapped.

Mal’s brow furrowed. “I think you know good an’ well my intentions are honorable enough,” he said mildly.

The fear and desperation in Harper’s voice made it crack, which almost seemed to infuriate the young man further. "Oh look," he mocked in a sing-song voice, "this is how free people live, see how good it is? Just remember that it's not for you. Yeah, you can go right on pretending that everything's peach-keen and we're good buddies just out for a walk, but we both know who's holding all the keys here. So go ahead and figure out the answer to your question on your own. Only you don’t strike me as too bright, so order me back in a couple of years when you’ve thought out the answer to that question!”

Mal blinked wordlessly, knowing as he did so that the act made him look not terribly bright. Harper grinned in satisfaction, and Mal shook his head. “Gotta love bein’ the captain,” he muttered. His face was serious as he stared Harper down, and Harper eyes stared back with the unyielding steadiness of a terrified man.

Mal looked away for a moment, fully realizing what a challenge this was going to be. He brought his eyes back to the furious, desperately vulnerable person standing in front of him, the boy’s tightly wrapped arms controlling the faintest shake of his limbs. “I’ve had only two people sneak onto my ship before you came along,” said Mal quietly. “The first was a nice, helpless, naïve girl who almost stole my ship and killed the lot of us. The second was a friend, a man I fought with. He dragged us into a mess, proceeded to shoot my pilot, and put a gun to Kaylee’s head.”

“I’m not them!” protested Harper, some of his hostility waning as he acknowledged the captain’s position.

“I know,” said Mal gently. “Don’t think I don’t know what it is I’m doing to you, either. But it’s my decision to make, and I’m the one gotta live with the consequences, one way or the other.”

Harper nodded, trying to conceal the crestfallen expression on his face. “Wash? Someone shot Wash?” he asked.

Mal nodded. “In the head. He didn’t particularly appreciate it, an’ in the interests of shipboard morale I’d as soon keep it from happening again.”

“Fine,” muttered Harper.