Disclaimer: Firefly and all related elements, characters and indicia © Mutant Enemy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television, 2003. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations—save those created by the authors for use solely on this website—are copyright Mutant Enemy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.

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Author's Note: This story contains mature themes, including sexual violence. Proceed with caution.

Lex Talionis
by Tara O'Shea

Part IV

Hey you.

I know you're sleeping, and Simon says you probably can't hear me—he's medicated you against the pain, and you'll be out for a while. But just in case—just in case you can hear me, I want you to know you're not alone, mèimei. You'll never be alone, because there are people here who love you.

No matter what happens, we'll handle it together.

You'll never be alone—not while I'm here.

Inara was already dressed, her personal belongings stowed for travel, when Mal appeared to tell her they had hit Bernadette's orbit. He was wearing the clothes he'd worn the day before, his blue eyes hooded and full of worry, and she knew that whatever her night had been like, his had most likely been worse.

"We'll send you a WAVE soon as we can," Mal said from where he had stood in the doorway. "To let you know—well... To let you know."

"Just come back," she'd said, her back to him as she'd prepped the shuttle for launch as Bernadette loomed in the distance, a serene blue ball with a scattering of white clouds that reminded Inara absurdly of the balls River and Kaylee used to play jacks.

"I'll do my best."

She turned in the pilot's chair, twisting so that she could see him. "I mean it, Mal."

"So do I."

She'd turned back to the shuttle controls so he couldn't see the tears in her eyes. She had heard his footsteps, and while every instinct screamed for her to go after him—that this might be the last time she would ever see him alive, she calmly continued her task.

After Mal had left her shuttle she had tried to rest, but sleep had refused to come. She had tossed and turned in her bed, and then finally given up. Serenity had been silent as the proverbial tomb. Wash had set the autopilot, and the lights were low, cast just enough illumination for someone to make out the deckplates and stairs. She could usually count on someone wandering through the ship even this late at night. Jayne, on his way to the galley to get a snack. Mal in the pilot's chair, staring at the stars. Or even River, sneaking out of the passenger dorm to dance to music only she could hear in the cargo bay. But Inara had made her way from her shuttle to the mess and back again without running into a single soul.

She had stopped in the infirmary, setting the steaming mug on the counter carefully, so as not to wake Simon, who was curled on his side on the bench built into the wall. The lights had been low, and she had stood next to Kaylee's bed, gingerly picking up the girl's unbandaged hand and holding it between her own.

Inara had prayed for Mal in the past—when he was out on a dangerous smuggling job. She would never tell him. It would only infuriate him, to know that she had bargained a thousand times with merciful Buddha, promising that if they just came home safe and sound—whole and unhurt, she would...

She would do anything.

Kaylee was like a sister to her—a beautiful, naïve, free-spirited, genius mechanic sister. She would do anything to spare her pain, to keep her from harm.

While she had been making tea for the governor's son, Kaylee had been snatched off a street full of people in broad daylight.

While she had been seeing to Miller's physical needs, using all the years of her training, all the skill of her art, her friend had been viciously beaten and brutally raped.

While she had been docking her shuttle, thinking trivial thoughts about trivial things, her sister had been dumped like yesterday's trash outside their door.

As a message. To prove a point. To cow them, hurt them, make them understand that they were mortal. That they were fragile. And that they were at another's mercy.

Inara hadn't needed to see Kaylee broken to know that. She had been born knowing that. People were frail creatures, easy to damage. But to live in constant fear... that wasn't living. And that was what Niska wanted—to make her live in fear. And as much as she wanted to deny him that power over her, Kaylee's broken and battered body had shattered her resolve. He was winning, and she didn't know how to deny him that victory.

She had felt so ashamed, breaking down the way she had. Forcing Mal to comfort her when she should have been the one to provide comfort. All of her training was based around the idea of providing comfort to others. Not just the comfort her body could afford—companions were trained to provide solace and understanding for their clients. Seeing to the needs of their minds, their souls, as well as their desires.

But crying herself out in Mal's arms, it was as if all her training had fled. More and more, she felt like she was losing control. She had always held herself apart from this crew—this family. Always. But over the last several months, that studied detachment had eroded almost completely. Once, she'd believed she had to leave Serenity precisely because she no longer felt she could bear leaving. Now she knew she couldn't go. Couldn't leave Kaylee, or Mal. Couldn't imagine not being a part of this insane, rag-tag bunch of thieves and fugitives whom she counted among the best men and women she had ever known.

Well, except for perhaps Jayne.

Her fingers tapped the shuttle controls, laying in her course—her hands following the paths she knew so well out of habit, while her mind was still on the memory of Kaylee's hand on hers.

Inara felt as if the merciful Buddha had abandoned her. For the first time, she understood what it must have been like for Mal, the day the Independents had surrendered. Like there was no reason, no logic, no God. Because if there was a God, how could such a thing happen? How in the 'verse could such a thing even be possible?

"Just come back," she murmured to the empty shuttle.

Kaylee slid open the door to Simon's quarters carefully, trying not to make a sound in case he was sleeping. She was surprised to find the light still on, and him still awake. Simon grinned as he set down his reader, and she lifted the blanket and curled up next to him in the narrow bed.

"Your feet are like ice!" Simon hissed, as her bare feet met his calves.

"Sorry," she murmured, and dropped a kiss on his shoulder. "Deckplates just leech the warmth right outta me."

He leaned over her, groping across the floor before he came up with a pair of socks. "Why weren't you wearing shoes?" he asked as she sat up to tug them on.

"Just ran up to the engine room for a minute, to check on the catalyser—"

"That was two hours ago. I made it halfway through the latest medical journal Inara downloaded off the cortex for me."

"Well, yeah—meant to only be a minute, though," she admitted sheepishly. "I'm surprised you're awake. Couldn't sleep?"

"I've gotten used to not sleeping alone," he said with a chuckle as she pulled the covers back over them. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close, until they lay like two spoons in a drawer.

She relished the warmth of his arms around her, his breath warm on her neck. The last two months had been like a dream. Waking up beside him, sometimes to find him already awake and just watching her—it was the best dream she'd ever had. Sometimes, she pretended she wasn't dreaming. That this was reality. That this was forever.

Kaylee could admit to herself that she might be a romantic, but deep down, she knew that you work with engines long enough, you know that romantic notions don't make wheels turn. Don't keep you flying. Real life is about a certain amount of friction and grit that gums up the works, and someday, parts just plum wear out and need to be replaced. No matter how well you take care of them, no matter how good you are about making sure there's always enough oil to keep her running smooth—someday, a thing's gonna break. Won't be nobody's fault; that's just the way of things.

But moments like this, when the whole ship was quiet, the crew tucked into their beds and Simon's arms around her, she could pretend.

"I thought maybe you'd want your bunk all to yourself again," she said with a smile. The narrow berths of the passenger dorm were actually a few inches wider than the bunks in crew quarters, so she had spent more than a few nights in his of late. She was starting to forget what her own room looked like. "It being a tight fit, and all."

"I suppose we'll just have to make do," he said with a theatrical sigh that ruffled her hair. She reached up to lift it up, out of the way, and she shivered as he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. "Though it does make me wonder how Zoe and Wash manage."

"Oh, they got a big bed."

"How big?" he asked, his mouth travelling down the side of her neck towards her shoulder slowly, teasing.

"Big enough," she giggled, then gasped as his teeth nipped gently at the spot where her neck curved into her shoulder. "Captain's wedding present was the bigger room," Kaylee recalled with a smile. "He gave them his quarters and he moved into Wash's old room next to mine. Then me and Jayne got them the big bed."

"How'd it fit through the door?"

"Well, you don't bring it all put together, silly," she said as she rolled over onto her back so she could look up into his face. He lazily stroked her ribcage, fingers sneaking beneath her shirt, dipping to trace the curve of her hipbone almost absently. "You bring all the pieces onboard one at a time, then put it together in the place where it's gonna stay. That's how you do, on a ship."

"Huh. I guess you learn something new every day."

She lifted her head for a kiss, twining her fingers in his dark hair and pulling him closer.

"So, you bring all the individual... pieces..." he said when he could catch his breath again. "And you put them together in the place they're going to stay?"

She swirled her tongue around the inside of his ear, gently taking the lobe between her teeth. "Yeah."

All thoughts of beds—other than the one the two of them were currently sharing—were driven out of Kaylee's mind as she pushed him over, onto his back. The blankets tangled between their legs as she straddled him. Thorough the soft grey cotton pyjama pants, she felt him getting hard as she leaned down and trailed kisses across his bare chest.

He closed his eyes, dark lashes like smudges against his cheeks as his breath quickened. Not for the first time, she was struck by how amazing he was. How amazing that they were there, together. That somebody as smart, and sophisticated, and just... shuài as Simon was hers. That he was hers, and that she was his.

She delighted in him, delighted in the sounds he made as her hands raked his chest lightly even as her mouth crept downward. Delighted in the way he gripped handfuls of the tan sheets as she edged backwards slowly, one leg on either side of his knees, as she dipped her tongue into his belly-button. She took joy in the way he gasped and arched his back as she caressed him through the thin layer of grey cotton. She took joy in the warmth that began to build inside her as his breath came faster, a flush creeping across his chest as he licked dry lips, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

One hand released tortured fabric and came up to brush her hair, and she pressed a kiss into the centre of his palm before she peeled off his grey cotton trousers. She tugged her own top over her head, tossing it so it landed on the floor next to his shoes before she wriggled out of her own pants. And then it was just them. Naked as the day they were born and ready for anything, she observed with a gleam in her eye.

Sometimes, it was quick. As if they'd go crazy if they couldn't touch each other, and every kiss was like fairy food that only made them crave more. Other times, it was slow—as if they had all the time in the world just to touch, and taste, and feel. But the one thing that never seemed to change was the incredible rush of elation Kaylee felt when they were together. Like nothing else in the world mattered when he was inside her, his hands gripping her hips as she moved. The entire 'verse narrowed to just the two of them.

When he came, crying her name, it didn't matter that he came from the Core, and she was from a poor backwater like Zephyr. When she lay across his chest, the sweat cooling on her body, her hair sticking to her cheeks and his neck, all that mattered was that she was his. And he was hers.

"How do you move it once it's all put together?" Simon asked as he turned off the light, and they pulled the blankets back over themselves. "The bed, I mean."

"Well, I s'pose you'd just take it apart again," she said after a moment.

"It's a good thing it's not going anywhere, then," he said, burying his face in her hair. "The bed. That would be an awful lot of work, taking apart something that had been put together so well."

"Yeah," she said softly, wondering if perhaps they weren't talking about furniture at all.

Radha was waiting for them when Inara's shuttle landed. Her long black hair was coiled low on her neck, and she smelled of jasmine when she enveloped Inara in a warm hug as she stepped through door. They had attended the Academy on Sihnon together and hadn't seen each other in years, but it was as if no time had passed at all.

"These are my friends," Inara said as Simon and River had alighted from the small craft, the former helping one of Radha's nurses carry Kaylee's stretcher, and the latter with wide dark eyes that took everything in. "Jiàn and her cousin, Alexander."

Inara tried to sound as casual as possible as she introduced them using the names on the forged ident cards Badger had provided then. She'd told Radha some of what she could—but she knew it would be best if no one on Bernadette knew Simon and River's names. After surviving their encounter with Jubel Early, it seemed only wise to take more precautions. She hated the idea of putting Radha and her House in danger, but the idea of what would happen if someone like Niska got his hands on River made it the lesser of two evils by far.

River wore a pair of Kaylee's old coveralls, her long dark hair in two plaits, and a pair of Wash's old glasses perched on her nose. She'd even—though how, Inara could hardly understand—subtly altered her accent so that it featured the rounder vowels of the edge of the Core worlds like Tiantán or Kwan Yin, instead of the smooth, clipped tones Inara associated with Osiris.

"I'm in disguise," River had said when she'd met them in the shuttle that morning. Normally, such a game would make Simon smile. However, Inara suspected it would be a long time before Simon would smile easily. When he and Jayne had carried Kaylee's stretcher to the shuttle, the first thing Inara had noticed was how pale and drawn the young doctor looked, and she wondered if he'd gotten any real sleep at all the night before.

The Companion Guild House in Castlebridge was a small one in comparison to the Academy on Sihnon—home to only twenty registered companions of varying ages. Bernadette had suffered during the war, and there were few Houses still operating so far from the central planets. It had surprised Inara when she had learned Radha had taken a position as a house mistress so far from the Core. But then, Inara wouldn't have been able to picture herself renting a dilapidated shuttle from a bunch of Independents on the run from the Alliance, either.

But the building was, Inara noted, large and full of light. Sunlight poured in through floor-to-ceiling windows and gauzy white drapes, and the floors alternated between smooth white birch and cool tile. The entire House was built on one level, in a vaguely octagonal shape. The receiving hall and ballroom, offices, comm centre, and half a dozen consecrated suites were in the front, facing the grounds. Living quarters, library, kitchen and hospice were set further back, arranged around a large open atrium full of cherry and plum trees that had lost their blossoms and were now in full leaf. Red lanterns hung in the gallery formed by the overhanging terraces which ran the length and breadth of the courtyard.

On Sihnon, the lanterns had only been raised and lit during the second week after New Years—Yuanxiao Jie. But Inara remembered how much Radha had loved the Lantern Festival, when the Guild opened its doors and gave the students free reign, and an escape from their duties and studies. The lanterns were an ancient harbinger of prosperity and fertility dating back to Earth-that-was, and the sight of them gave her a familiar pang in her chest. Not homesickness, exactly. But the memory of a simpler, happier time.

"I've had the staff prepare guest quarters close to the hospice," Radha said, drawing Inara out of her reverie as they came to a halt outside Kaylee's room.

"Thank you," Inara said as Kaylee was transferred from the stretcher to the diagnostic bed. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your hospitality—and your discretion."

"There's no need, Inara. I understand. If you need anything—your rooms are just down this hall, and I can have the staff alert you the moment—"

"I'd like to stay with Kaylee," Simon said quickly. "I'm her personal physician as well as... That is, please, if it's all right, I'd like to stay with her."

"Of course. We can have a cot brought up." Radha smiled at him warmly, and motioned another woman forward. She was perhaps ten, fifteen years older, her short dark hair neatly combed, and her skin, the colour of tea with milk, was smooth and unlined. "This is Talia Wynn, our doctor. She transferred here last year from the Academy on Poseidon. In addition to being a medical doctor, she's received extensive psychiatric training and acts as our counsellor as well as the head of the hospice staff."

"How long has she been unconscious?" Talia asked, her manner brisk, efficient as she put the memory tab Simon had give her into her reader and began scanning the readouts.

Inara moved to Kaylee's side, brushing the girl's hair back from her forehead. The right side of her face was terribly swollen—bruises darkening to purple from temple to jaw. Simon had done what he could, and she knew that they would fade quickly, but she had been shocked at how much worse Kaylee had looked that morning. She hadn't thought she could look any worse than she had when they'd found her.

"Twelve hours. With the extent of her injuries—particularly the pelvic fracture, the lacerations, bone-deep bruising—I thought it would be best if she remain immobile. I administered a pain block yesterday, but it should be wearing off soon."

"Did you administer any CRF antagonists?"

"Our ship's infirmary is very rudimentary—we don't have a cortical imaging scanner. My primary field of study was trauma, not neuro, and I didn't want to risk starting any psychiatric treatment without sufficient scans—"

"No—no, that's good." She flashed Simon a quick smile that took years off her age. "We're still inside the 72 hour window. We can do it here. Do you have any idea how many assailants...?"

"Three," River said, and all eyes turned to her. Radha and Talia looked confused and startled, and Inara watched Simon grow very still, not even blinking. "They came out of the shadows. They were bigger than she was—made her into a thing. Made her into nothing but an object."

Kaylee was practically whistling as she made her way through the bustling crowds around the port at Shepherd's Landing Docks. They hadn't been on Greenleaf in a good while, but her feet knew the way to Mitchell's, and so she let her eyes wander over the impressive array of shops, food stalls, and interesting people out having a day. The sun was shining, the sky a pale, pale blue high above her. Flitters and hovercars would occasionally cast shadows as they crossed between her and the sun as she wound her way through the narrow streets and alleys.

"There will be other planets—other junkyards, with other parts," Simon had said as she'd been getting dressed that morning, and she'd had a hard time dragging herself out of their bed. Mainly because the sight of him, hair sticking up every which way, naked torso beneath the blankets, tended to be an incentive to take her clothes off rather than put them on.

"Do you know how hard it is to find new used coils for an aught-three that ain't already half gone? They cost a fortune new, just 'cause they last so long, and they outlast the ships, half the time. Only time you ever find 'em used is when they're already fit to bust. Mitchell says he got a great haul in, and if I don't get 'em—"

"He's just trying to make a sale," he'd said, making a grab for her as she sat on the end of the bed, trying to lace up her boots.

"And I aim to let him!" she laughed as she hopped on one foot sideways, out of range of his questing hands. "But I can't if I'm not there to hand him the platinum."

"Can't Mal—"

"Cap'n's gotta stay here, waiting for Badger's fellas." She'd kissed him quickly. "I won't be long."

He'd sighed and laid back, hands laced behind his head. It did interesting things to his biceps, and she'd stood in the doorway, chewing on her lip thoughtfully for a minute. She'd swooped in, getting a proper kiss—and a bit more—before she'd finally attempted to extricate herself.

"No, I'm going," she said against his mouth.

"You're not going." She felt his smile.

"I'm going," she repeated, dragging herself away from him, the bed, the room. "I'm going. See?" She waved to him from the doorway. "This is me leaving."

Then she'd laughed at the face he'd made.

Simon and River almost never left Serenity now—not when they was in port. Mal figured, after the Ariel job and Early's attack, it just made more sense for the two of them to keep a low profile. The doctor was, Kaylee had decided, getting a bit stir crazy, staring at the same four walls day in and day out.

She remembered her own first six months aboard—how the first few weeks, she'd been so busy, and it had all been so new. Then once she got into a routine, things started going smooth—that was when she'd had time to think about all the little stuff she missed. The sound of crickets outside her bedroom window. The smell of summer rain. Grams' applesauce cake and spending days with Mac and the horses.

The difference was, Kaylee could still go back there, if she was of a mind to.

Simon had talked about Osiris a lot, at first. Not so much his folks—she'd noticed that right off. But what life had been like at the hospital. Friends he'd made in Medacad. What he and River used to do, when they was kids. It had seemed terribly exotic and strange to Kaylee, but she realised now that it had been as common as her growing up in Riverside in its own way. And the longer Simon was out in the black, the more he seemed to need to talk about what he'd left behind. Both to keep it behind him and to remember what life had been like before all the craziness had begun. To remind himself that he hadn't always been on the run.

He'd adjusted to his new life a lot better than Kaylee would have thought he would have. She got the giggles as she tried to picture the staid and proper Doctor Tam she'd met at Eavesdown Docks that day helping Book with the dishes. Or up to his elbows in dirty laundry when he got stuck with Zoe's chores after losing three hands running at a late night card game. Or crawling around barefoot in the hidey, getting covered in dirt and whatnot, chasing after River when they'd had a particularly energetic game of ghost-in-the-graveyard. It was a childhood game Kaylee hadn't realised they even knew in the Core until River had announced at lunch that Kaylee was ghost and had until midnight to hide.

The captain had just shook his head as the three of them had acted like idiots for hours, culminating with River scaring the hell outta Jayne when he'd found her crouched in the storage locker where he kept his weights. Then the game had morphed into a breakneck speed game of tag with half the crew cheering them on from the catwalk.

Simon had won. Even with River being able to read folks' minds, her brother was still faster. Of course, Kaylee had let him catch her. It seemed only fair.

"We'll have fun when I get back," she'd promised as she'd slid the door to his room in the passenger dorm open. "I'll see if I can pick something up for River in town, too."

She stopped in front of a boy selling bubble makers. They were just coils of copper wire bent into the shape of hearts, spirals, and honeycombs which he dipped in a tray of soapy water and swung through the air. Huge soap bubbles floated up, iridescent as dragonfly wings in the sunlight, before they hit a dry patch of wall, cloth, or person and popped. She remembered when she was a little girl, asking her mother why the bubbles were always round, instead of being the same shape as the wands. Now she knew why—but it didn't make it any less magical.

Kaylee wondered briefly if River would like such a toy—before she had a brief mental image of Mal getting a face full of soap next time he stepped into the mess. She turned away from the boy, and slammed face-first into a guy coming out of the mouth of the alley.

"Duìbùqî," she murmured, trying to step out of his way. She was puzzled when he stepped into her path. Then her eyes grew wide as he suddenly grabbed her forearm, forcing her backwards into the narrow alley between two buildings, one hand pressed to her mouth before she could even scream. She was plunged into gloom—the buildings on either side rising up so far she could only see a sliver of blue sky between them. The sunlit street full of busy people seemed miles away.

Her teeth rattled in her head as he slammed her up against the wall, one massive forearm across her chest, pinning her. His large hand still clamped over her mouth—almost completely covering her nose and mouth—coupled with the weight across her chest, made it hard for her to breathe. She couldn't even move her head, only her eyes. In her peripheral vision, two shadows detached from the rear of the alley, taking the shape of men as they came closer.

She could see the soap bubbles floating harmlessly through the air behind them. She was frozen—couldn't move, could barely breathe. She couldn't even see the man who held her—her eyes blurred with tears of pain, and all she had was the vague impression of tall, fair-haired, and big. Big as Jayne. Maybe bigger.

"This the one?" one of them asked, his English heavily accented.

"Trailed her from the docks," the man holding her said. "Straight from Reynolds' ship."

Something glinted in the other man's hand, and as she realised what it was, she was shocked out of her stupor, kicking and clawing at the man who held her. She tried to scream, but it only came out a strangled yelp as the needle plunged into her neck.

"Perfect," she heard as the alley began to fade away. "Mr. Niska will be pleased."

Her last thought, before her vision went dark around the edges, was that Mitchell was gonna sell those coils. She was going to die, and Mitchell was going to sell those coils to someone else.

Mal spread the flimsy out on the table in the mess hall. They were an hour out of Bernadette, and Zoe and Wash sat at one end of the table, the pilot's hand in his wife's resting on the tabletop. Jayne and Book stood, the former practically vibrating with energy and unable to keep from fidgeting, and the latter remarkably calm, staring at the flimsy, his hands clasped in front of him as if it were a newspaper.

The intel Badger had provided was good—better than what Mal had expected. For the first time, he felt as if they might survive this.

"Okay—according to Badger, Niska's got a gambling complex on Ithaca," Mal pointed out a cluster of white buildings and tapping a command, the flimsy zoomed in one the surveillance satellite photo, bringing the complex into detail. "He's there another two days. Should give us plenty of time to hit him and hit him hard."

"The second we enter orbit, he's gonna get a read on us," Zoe said, shaking her head as she leaned forward to try and get a closer look.

"We're not gonna get that close," Mal assured her, before turning to her husband. "Wash, you set Serenity down on Priam—that's the second moon. We'll take the shuttle from there."

He waited until he could see the light dawn in Wash's eyes, the knowledge blossoming in his eyes that he would be staying with the ship. Mal continued on quickly, before Wash could raise the obligatory objection about his wife going into a dangerous situation without him.

"Niska's fancy poker parlour is here—just outside of Capital City. We'll land in this patch of desert—couple of miles from the edge of the complex. Nice desolate spot. Should be far enough, their sensors won't pick us up."

"The complex's gonna be heavily guarded—"

"Which is why we go for him while he's in transit," Book said, and Mal tried to hide his surprise.

"You got a devious mind, Preacher." He'd spent half the night coming up with this plan—going over it in his head, turning it this way and that, and he was surprised that the shepherd, of all people, had come to the same conclusion so quickly. Yet another piece of the puzzle that Mal would shove aside for another day, when he would have the luxury of trying to figure Book out.

The plan was risky—and owed a little more to chance than Mal was comfortable with. But the gaming complex itself had air-tight security. That much cash going in and out of there every day—a man like Niska couldn't afford not to seal it up tight as a drum. But most men would be after the cash—not the man.

Mal wanted the man. Wanted him so bad he could taste it, like bile in the back of his throat. The memory of Niska, bleeding and cowering in fear on the skyplex had sustained him. Reminded him that, for all his hired goons and fanatical minions, Niska was still just a man. A man who could be hurt. A man who could be gotten to. A man who could be killed.

He figured they had that in common. The only difference was, Mal wasn't gonna let that stop him. Not today. Not ever again.

"Shepherd's right—our best chance will be when he's in his hovercar, going between the gaming palace and home."

"Won't they know we're coming?"

"If I know Niska, he suspects something. But not this soon. And not this way. He wanted to put us on the defensive—not the offensive. And pretty soon, Badger's men on Cowlan Fed Base are gonna be sending him a coded WAVE with our next location."

"Badger know that?" Book said, quirking one eyebrow. Yep. Preacher had one devious mind.

"What Badger don't know can't bite us in the ass," Jayne growled, taking out his knife and whetstone.

"They'll get a location we're not gonna be at, though, right?" Wash asked Mal as he scanned the flimsy, still sounding slightly nervous. "I mean, I imagine that's the point—"

"WAVE's gonna tell him we're headed to Three Hills," Zoe assured him. "Niska's got no reason to doubt him—and Badger's got no reason to cross us."

"He better not, he knows what's good for him," Jayne grumbled. "Next time, he won't get off so good as he did yesterday—with just a messed up pair of pants."

"Badger's scum, but right now, he's more scared of us than he is Niska," Mal pointed out. "Not to mention, he relies on the income he can get off us, so long as we're still flyin'. That state of affairs won't last long, so we best take advantage of it while we can."

He looked at each of them in turn, taking stock. Wash was still looking a bit shaky, but Mal couldn't blame him. Not after how the last tangle with Niska had gone. Man hired on to be a pilot, after all—not a soldier. But there was a grim set to the little man, something in his blue eyes that Mal hadn't seen in a while. Not since Hera. Zoe had her hand on his shoulder, kneading it almost absently, and when she met Mal's eyes, she gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Jayne looked more than happy to go off and start cutting on folks. Not that that differed much from the usual state of affairs, all told. Preacher was still staring down at the flimsy, looking serious and grave. Mal had made him the offer of staying behind with Inara and the kids on Bernadette, but Book had simply said that wasn't an option. He'd been quiet ever since, reflective almost. Not as stoic as Zoe could be on her quietest days—but close enough to it to make Mal wonder once again just what kind of man he'd been before he put on the collar.

They all just looked back at him, resolute and steely. As ready as they were ever gonna be.

"We gotta do this fast, people. And we gotta do it right the first time. 'Cause there won’t be a second. We don't breathe easy until we're back on Serenity and the job's done."

River couldn't breathe.

She had been in her room—organising her meagre collection of coloured pencils, pens, and slips of coloured wrapping paper she had rescued from the dustbins. She had intended to fold a thousand paper cranes, but she was still short several hundred pieces of paper. She had them arrayed according to colour and size—and at night she hid them beneath her mattress. She wasn't sure why, exactly. But at the time, it had seemed imperative. She had discovered one of the pages of Book's Bible among the white pages—and was debating the relative merits of returning Exodus 21 to him when she stopped breathing.

They were on the ground. If Serenity had been in the air, then a hull breach would have explained it. She clawed at her throat, eyes burning with sudden tears, and when she drew her first tortured breath after what seemed like an eternity of silence she screamed for her brother.

He came running from the infirmary, his task half done. She met him in the doorway of her quarters, hands gripping his shoulders. Images danced behind her eyes—jumbled, and soaked in blood, almost paralysing her. She had to fight to see him—see his blue eyes so close to hers, filled with concern and the first stirrings of dread. She'd been so good, the last few weeks. Almost right. Not right, but so close. Close enough that they'd both been lulled into believing the quiet would last. But now the quiet was filled with screams, and she realised with a start some of them were still coming from her.

"River? River what is it—"

"Air. No air. No light," she tried to force the words out in the right order so he would understand, but it was so hard. So hard to find the right words. It was worse than when Book was shot. Worse than the dead people hanging like meat. Worse, all of it worse, because it wasn't stopping. It wouldn't stop. "And too much blood."

"Blood? Are you hurt?" he asked, trying to calm her. He was so confused and worried. She pulled him towards the cargo bay doors with both hands. She wasn't as big as he was, she wasn't as strong.

"They came and they took her and they broke her!"

"Came and took who? River, you're not making any sense—"

"Simon, you have to come!" She ran ahead into the cargo bay, her brother trailing behind.

Jayne was working at the weight bench. He didn't stop when she ran past him. Just watched, muttering about the crazy girl as she slammed her hand down on the controls and the cargo bay doors began to slide open.

"Mèimei, we're not allowed to leave the ship."

Inara was on the catwalk, coming from her shuttle. She came down the stairs two at a time as River grabbed Simon's arm and dragged him towards the daylight. Inara's hair was done up in curls. It had taken half the morning. They were held with jewelled pins off her neck, arranged as carefully as the companion would flowers in a vase. As precisely as she would hold the calligraphy brush. As perfectly as a doll on a shelf. Her dark eyes were wide, as she took in the scene before her.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know—" Simon began, exasperated and beginning to be afraid, too.

"Simon!" River pleaded, tears slipping down her cheeks as she ran out the open doors. He followed her, and then he saw and understood.

Kaylee was crumpled against the side of the hull, blood soaking through her clothes. So much blood everywhere. People were gathering now in the street—watching, their eyes wide and mouths open.

"No," Simon gasped, and River felt his fear on top of her own—the weight of it crushing her. "No, no, no, no..." he chanted as he bent down to Kaylee's side, felt her throat for a pulse.

"Wôde tìan, Kaylee!" Inara came up behind her, her hand pressed to her mouth in horror. One of the pins that held the complicated mass of hair slipped. It hit the cargo bay floor, the sound of metal hitting metal so soft that River almost didn't hear it.

Inara stepped aside as Simon lifted the unconscious girl. He carried her inside the cargo bay and laid her down gently on the deckplates, while River could only stare. Stare and hear the voices that screamed inside her head. It was getting so crowded. It would be so easy for her to get lost, if she didn't stay focused.

The jewel set into the head of the pin sparkled in the light from the open door. Garnet. Blood.

"Jayne!" Simon barked, and the weights hit the floor with a metallic clang that seemed so loud, even in the cavernous space. Impossibly loud. Then Jayne stopped and stared too. Frozen.

"It's going to be okay, mèimei," Inara said, stroking her hair, even though her eyes were closed. "Kaylee? Can she hear me?" she asked Simon, frantic.

"There's so much blood," Jayne said, as if his mind couldn't grasp what he was seeing. River was forgotten—she felt invisible, standing behind them.

"Kaylee, can you hear me?" Simon asked—so tender. So afraid, but trying not to let it show. Trying so hard. "C'mon, open your eyes. Stay with me, xin gan. Kaylee? Can you hear me?"

Her eyes wouldn't open. Her breath came rasping and shallow. There was a smear of blood on the floor. There was blood on Simon's hands—Inara's too. River looked down at her hands—they were white and clean. She turned them over, staring at the creases in her palms.

"She's unconscious. Help me get her to the infirmary," Simon said as he lifted her, and Jayne got her feet.

River looked up, and saw the captain, standing frozen on the upper catwalk, his face pale and drawn.

River hit the door controls again, and the hatch slid shut. She leaned down and picked up the garnet pin, staring at it in the palm of her clean white hand. She closed her fingers around it and felt the metal setting cut into her palm. The airlock doors locked with a clank and a hiss. Daylight banished, and the cargo bay was once again plunged into gloom.

The sun was shining.

Kaylee blinked a few times, confused. Dust motes danced in the air, and her hand was warm from the sun that came in through the windows, painting the bedclothes gold. The bed was wider than her bed—covered with a coverlet the colour of butter, and she was beneath crisp white sheets. The walls beyond the edge of the bed were white, reflecting the light. There were vases of flowers—pink and white. She groped for the name and found it after a few seconds. Peonies. Her aunt had had a whole mess of them in her back garden, and she and her cousins Mac and Nita used to pick them, before Nita and her whole family had picked up and taken off for the Tamson colony when she'd been eight. She'd forgotten about them—hadn't seen any in so long.

She tried to swallow and grimaced. Her tongue felt swollen inside her mouth, and her throat was painfully dry. The entire right side of her head ached, a dull, low throbbing pain that was echoed in her side, between her legs, and pretty much every part of her she could feel. There was a needle in her arm. Clear fluid inside the IV tubing. She could see a little blood dried under the bandage that held it in place, and she stared at the vein, blue beneath her skin, for a moment. As if her arm weren't attached to her at all.

Slowly, as if she were viewing the world through cotton gauze, she began to be aware of sounds. Beeping from machines. The rustling of leaves outside. Birdsong. Breathing.

Turning her head, she saw Simon asleep on a cot beside her. His clothes were rumpled and stubble darkened his cheeks and chin. He was curled on his side on top of the blankets—one arm was out-flung, the fingers so close to hers she could feel their warmth. She reached out to touch him and flinched as she tried to flex fingers that were taped together.

The door was open, and there were voices outside. She thought one of them might be Inara's, but she wasn't sure. Women's voices, too indistinct for her to make out what was being said. She was planetside, and not any place she recognised. Everything was so fine and fancy, from the paper on the walls to the brocade patterned coverlet that covered the wide, comfortable bed. It reminded her of all the fancy dresses the girls had worn at the ball on Persephone, the silk and satin practically glowing beneath the hovering chandelier. Her own blankets on Serenity were surplus—rough wool that was warm enough, but not what anyone would call luxurious.

As she stared, River appeared in the doorway. She was wearing one of Kaylee's coveralls, the pair she'd just washed yesterday—they'd been dark brown once but had faded in the washing to rust-coloured. Kaylee wanted to ask why she was wearing her clothes, and why she had on one of Wash's old pairs of specs, but couldn't find her voice. It was like it was sealed up inside her, and she couldn't push any words past her dry lips.

River tiptoed over, so as not to wake her brother. Simon didn't even stir as she knelt next to the bed, resting her head next to Kaylee's thigh.

"The sun's warm," she said cryptically, her voice pitched as she reached for her hand. "It went dark. But now I can feel it on my face."

She reached up and ran the tips of her fingers down Kaylee's cheek. The touch was feather-soft. Kaylee flinched.

"Safe now," River whispered. "Don't be scared."

Kaylee's eyes began to fill with tears, and the room blurred into shades of gold and green and rose as River's hand tightened around hers.