Warnings: Altered timeline from 'Ariel', angst, torture

Thanks to lvs2read for the great beta and thunder_nari for the great beta and spurring me on.

~

Everything is foggy, wrong, not like it’s meant to be. Pain burning into the side of Mal’s head tells him he’s still alive, but he’s honestly not sure how that is. Can’t remember passing out, can’t recall a time he’s woken up from it feeling like a mule's just kicked him in the chest. There’s a low hum all around him, his chest burns, aches right over his heart and feels close to agony on his ribs. That gorramn ugly toy of Niska’s gotta be why his ribs are hurting. He still remembers the feel as the ends of its clamps burrowed into him. The white hot agony that flashed through him as it powered on. Felt like he’d just stepped foot into the core of a sun.

He can hear muttering around him, a loathsome noise and it makes his nose screw up. Familiar and vile, Niska talking, saying something low to him, and then something wet flicks onto his ear and the smarting pain that flares up is enough to get him groaning. Groggy and exhausted, he’s not opening his eyes, instead letting the pain wash through him, limbs more leaden then he would like. Niska’s still talking to him, voice low and almost melodious, and Mal just about summons enough energy to answer back, to quip back at the man, even if Niska's not paying that much attention to him.

Niska’s torn between two emotions- happy, glad even, that Captain Reynolds is such an interesting man to explore, to break, but disappointed at the fragility of the human body, that he has to draw back for a moment if he wants to keep the man living. He doesn‘t want to bring back a nothingless mass with the Captain‘s name, after all. Shan Yu himself probably would have liked to meet the man, liked to put Malcolm Reynolds under his knife and truly see him. Niska’s sure he hasn’t seen Mal yet, has only gained glimpses and can now focus on exploring. Now is no longer teasing and giving the preliminaries of pain as he had when there were two to focus on. Fingers dipping into the sweet wine, he flicks it onto the bloodied mangled mass of Mal’s ear, idly wondering how long he will last.

Mal’s also glad Wash isn’t here to see this, see how close he’s getting. Mind no longer torn between different thoughts and ideas, different certainties, it's still and calm now--certain. Certain that his crew's coming for him, knows he wouldn’t be left behind. Even if there’s not much left by the time they get here, at least Mal’s got the same certainty knowing they’ll still come.

Not as peaceful as he’d like though, not wanting his crew to come to put themselves in that. Zoe and Wash would be readying themselves he’s sure. The others are more worrisome, not having the know-how to take up arms or a boatload of reluctance to put themselves out. He can’t see Kaylee being able to fight, can’t see the preacher having the want-to given his religion and River…she hasn’t been all that lucid since Simon was taken. Had moments that’s true, made enough noise the day before, playing with Kaylee right before she went back to being all silent and staring again. Something Jayne claimed was more creepifying than her random comments, even if the merc had made good on Mal’s orders, taking pains to not scare or upset her.

Mayhap he’d taken Mal’s order to shadow her and keep her safe to heart, maybe not, Mal couldn’t be thinking too much on it now.

Niska’s still talking, making Mal’s lips twist as he ghosts warm air over Mal’s mutilated ear. Hurts more than a bullet for some reason, makes his guts twist and hands twitch to cover and protect it. It’s hard to focus now, harder to keep himself from just sinking back into the warm unconsciousness he’d come from.

Died, he died, least that’s what the psychotic old man’s saying. Not a pleasant thought. Mal’s not willing to be a corpse just yet, even if he wants the pain gone. Somehow he finds words to stay back, though it’s a struggle, and for some reason he’s finding himself wondering on something else, something less pleasant, that he’s hoping is not true.

Wonder if Simon’s gettin’ much of the same, conjure those that took him’s as crazy as Niska. Chances are they’ll cut into him too…

He’s tried not to think of Simon much recently, tried to push away the angry, churning feeling that comes whenever he thinks of the man left at the mercy of Tien knew what. But he can’t help thinking now, and suddenly Niska’s words become a lot more interesting as the man leans in closer. He’s not waffling on about debts and repayments, and Mal’s focusing more on his words than the wicked looking implement his torturer’s waving around.

“Tell me Mister Reynolds, who is this Simon you speak of?”