(hover over Chinese words for translation)

The Execution of one Jayne Cobb, (Light Supper will be Served)

Janus moon was a decent enough settlement, as frontier living went. There were vast stretches of choking desert, but in the valleys of its two great rivers, life was green. Agriculture was a community affair, with all the homesteaders working common land together. Those who did not farm worked in one of the mills or factories. There was virtually no crime. It was a peaceful, civilized place and Malcolm Reynolds could not wait to quit it. He stood in the cargo bay of Serenity, anticipating the last straggling crew member.

Jayne strode up the ramp with a definite swagger in his step. As he approached, Mal and Simon could see not only the smile that threatened to halve his face but evidence of trauma of one kind or another all over his body. There was a tear in his pants exposing most of his thigh and his shirt hung in tatters from his waist like a gladiator’s subligaculum. His neck was several shades of crimson up one side and down the other, speckled with rubescent marks and lines. There was a purple bruise on one cheekbone and a dried laceration over the other eye. Simon approached him, clinical senses at the ready, and reached a hand up to touch Jayne's face. Like the strike of a viper, Jayne clamped onto Simon's wrist, squeezing painfully. His grin was as evil as any the Devil had ever drawn on a man. "Don't you even think about fixin' these."

"Jayne, play nice with the doctor," Mal's voice had its firm, situation-defusing tone. "I thought you went out looking for pleasant company."

Jayne released Simon and turned, still smiling, to Mal. "Sure enough was. She was all manner of "pleasant" to me."

"You look like you've been mauled," Simon opined.

"That too."

An unknown voice bounced into the cargo bay. "Jayne? Jayne Cobb?"

"In here."

At the bottom of the ramp appeared a petite woman, bronze skinned with drowsy, leopard's eyes, dressed in plain but clean prairie-folk clothes, short black hair under a kerchief, carrying a cloth bundle. She walked confidently into the strange ship. "You ran out without your breakfast." Jayne met her halfway and gave her a kiss on the cheek, to which she responded with a firm bite to the side of his neck. Jayne growled appreciatively as he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her easily off the floor. She landed gracefully when he dropped her down. "I told you, big man like you needs his strength."

"Thanks, baby. Zai jian." He took the bundle and gave her an echoing swat on the rear as she turned to leave.

With no more regard for the other men than she had had when she boarded, the woman left. "Tell me, Jayne, is that the vicious creature that tore you to teeny ribbons last night?" Mal asked.

"Part of it, yeah."

"She's the size of a duck. She's -what?- five foot nothing."

“I doubt she weighs more than forty kilos in her boots,” Simon proffered.

"Yup. Hey, Mal, we gonna be back through here soon?"

"Depends if we get a return run on this delivery."

"Hmm, may have to make a separate trip then. I might just marry that little youkai." He untied the bundle. "Ruttin' A, ham biscuits. I'll be in my bunk," and he was gone into the ship.

“There are times I think I’ll never understand that man. Then I remember that I’m very grateful for that.” Mal turned to the com on the ramp control panel. **beep** "Anyone who's not here better say so now."

"Is Jayne on?" Zoe asked from the bridge.

"Most of him."

"Then we're all accounted for and ready to take off, sir."

"Duly noted. Wash, if you would kindly remove your wife from your lap long enough to get my ship in the air, I'd be much obliged."

"How does he always know? It's like he's got eyes-"

"Husband, the com's still open."

"Son of a-" **beep**

The scream was loud and intense enough to jerk Simon from sleep instantly. He leapt from his bed, or attempted to, but the bed sheet ensnared his legs and he fell smartly onto his face. Extricating himself, he lunged across the hall, hurriedly sliding open the door to River’s berth. She sat in the midst of rumpled covers, holding her pillows over her ears. The high-toned screaming continued unabated. ‘If River’s okay, who – Kaylee!’ Simon sprinted through the ship and nearly collided with Mal as they both reached the engine room, hands over their ears.

Kaylee was on her knees, contorted in an odd twist to reach into the engine, desperately jerking on a part that would not budge. It was Serenity who was screaming. Kneeling next to Kaylee, Simon clamped his hands over her ears.

“WHAT IS IT?” Mal had to shout to have even a chance of being heard over the keening.

“BEARING’S STUCK!” Kaylee shouted back. “I CAN’T GET IT LOOSE.”

Mal grabbed a heavy pipe from a pile of metal scrap in the corner. “MOVE, KAYLEE!”

Kaylee lay back out of the way, knocking Simon back and under her, as the pipe swung past her close enough for her to feel it cut the air. It clanged off the engine. At Mal’s third determined swing, the component shifted by a fraction and the vessel was quiet again, save for the panting of her captain, mechanic and medic. Simon took his hands away from Kaylee’s ears. She pushed herself up and helped Simon to his feet, bashfully brushing off some grit that had gotten from her pajamas onto his bare chest. "Sorry 'bout that."

"HOLD- hold still, Kaylee." Simon took Kaylee's face gently in his hands and brushed the hair back from her forehead. A red line of blood was rolling from her hairline down her temple and cheekbone.

“Did I hit you, little Kaylee?” Mal asked with genuine concern as he tossed the pipe back onto the heap.

“Naw, Cap’n. I was asleep in my sling when that bearing jammed and my girl took to hollering. Scared me so bad I flipped right out and straight to the floor, bam-o. Must’ve landed on somethin’.” Reflexively, she went to dab the wound with her fingertips, but Simon intercepted her greasy hand.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. Facial lacs tend to bleed a lot. Can you come to the infirmary?”

“If we can power down the engine, sure.”

Mal crouched down to look into the engine housing, as though he could actually identify the problem on his own. “What was it happened?”

“It was that gorram transfer case.”

“I was under the impression you replaced that this morning.”

“That is the replacement,” she said, rather grimly. “Weren’t but rebuilds to be had. Figured it had to be a sight better than ours. Guess I figured wrong.”

Crossing to the com panel, Mal paused before pushing the button. “I ain’t askin’ you for silk purses, Kaylee. I know you did the most you could with what you had.” **beep** “Wash?”

“Wei?”

“We have any course correction in the near future?”

“Umm…nope. Course is straight, if not also narrow.”

“Good. We’re shutting down the engine so Kaylee can work out a transfer case problem.”

“Is that what that noise was?”

“Apparently.” **beep**

“Shouldn’t take more than an hour or three to put our slightly less liezhi old one back on, and then we can limp-kick 'er to Cypress.”

“That’s fine. Go get that hole in your head fixed first.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Kaylee saluted exaggeratedly.

Simon turned on the pure white lights of the infirmary, glaring and harsh at that time of night, as Kaylee hopped onto the examination table. He gently cleaned away the trail of blood that had wormed its way down her face. The laceration itself received an antibiotic salve and a small dermal weave. Kaylee sat still throughout, wearing a look of placid contentment as Simon’s soft and careful hands worked to heal her.

“There,” he pronounced.

“You sure? Maybe you should kiss it better, ya know, just to be on the safe side?” If Kaylee had known how her smiles and the light in her eyes could melt Simon, she would never stop smiling.

Perhaps she did know. “Well, far be it from me to ignore sage folk wisdom in favor of highly-specialized medical science.” He leaned in slowly, eyes almost closed, and breezed his lips against Kaylee’s skin. Quick as a whip, Kaylee tilted her face up and caught Simon’s lips in a warm kiss. Simon's mind was startled, but his body was not. He returned her kiss and tentatively probed her mouth with his tongue as her lips opened to him. Her arms moved around his neck and his wrapped around her.

"Ai-ya!" Kaylee gasped as she recoiled from Simon.

"What, what's wrong?" his mind whirled with possibilities and repercussions. She wasn't looking at him, though.

"Spot on my arm is real sore." Sure enough, there was a livid bump on the back of her upper arm. Inwardly relieved that for once he had not ruined their moment, Simon angled the overhead light and leaned in to study the offending nodule.

"It looks like you've got a little infection, maybe around a sliver or something. Sit tight," Simon grabbed his tweezers from a nearby tray. In mere seconds, he had hold of the foreign body and removed it deftly, though Kaylee did make a slight hiss. "Sorry." He held it up to the light and Kaylee peered at it too.

"Could be a metal filing. I'm all the time gettin' stuck with them."

"Probably." Simon dropped it into the rubbish bin, then cleaned and covered the bump, which was already quieting down properly. "All done. Is there anything else you need me to look at?”

Kaylee’s sweet eyes smiled. “Not just now. Fit as a fiddle. Well, actually, the last two mornings I’ve felt a little sick, but I figured that was from the jerky Wash bought.”

“It could well have been. I'll run some blood work to be sure." Simon drew a hypodermic from its assigned drawer. "Personally," he continued, to distract Kaylee, "I couldn’t bring myself to eat something that was nailed to the side of a barn for a month.”

Kaylee smiled her funny tight-lipped smile, "You Core folk, so highfalutin with your fancy refrigerated meat."

"What can I say, I've lead the life of Riley." The laughter faded and the silence was warm in the air as Simon slotted the vial of Kaylee's blood into the scanner. "Are you going right back to working on the engine?"

"Gotta. Can't have us floatin' around all night."

"Guess not. Would you like me to bring you some coffee?"

Simon almost blushed under Kaylee's bright smile, "Thank you, Simon, that'd be real sweet."

Half asleep and less than half dressed, Jayne lumbered onto the bridge. "What's all the go tsao de ruckus?"

"Aw, did the mean ol' engine wake Diddums from his sweepy-time?" Wash teased.

"Which ear did I punch you in last time? I'm trying to keep 'em even." Jayne shook his fist affably in the pilot's direction as he flopped into the co-pilot's chair.

"C'mon in, Jayne. Make yourself at home. Can I get you a beverage, perhaps a canape?"

"Bi zui," he yawned and casually scratched himself. "Where we headed anyway?"

Wash consulted the navigational display, "Hilmar settlement on Cypress moon. Ever been?"

"Cypress? Naw. Been to Crete, that's about spitting distance."

"That may be farther for some than for others," Wash crossed his arms over his puffed-up chest.

"That was a technical victory, Little Man."

"I still won."

"It was wind-assisted."

"We were in the cargo bay."

"Which reminds me," Mal said as he entered the bridge, "henceforward all contests involving the projection of bodily fluids are to take place *outside* the ship."

"You're just sore cuz you lost."

"Wha- I didn- you- I'd've had it, if not for all those salty crackers I'd just eaten. Besides, Wash only won on a technicality."

"I still won," the smiling pilot laced his fingers behind his head and propped his feet up on the console. "It's good to be the king."

  Serenity began her approach to the landing zone of Hilmar settlement. At each berth, people milled around, some moving cargo, some leaning on crates, talking or negotiating. A fair-sized cloud of dust rose around the ship as it descended the last few meters to the ground, but the people nearest by took no notice, other than to squint a little, and went about their way. The cargo ramp lowered and the crew began moving the assembled cartons down to the street. Much to their relief, the buyer had sent a large truck, which waited for them, its cranky engine backfiring occasionally. Mal gave the driver's hand a hearty shake and proceeded to try to charm his way into another job as Jayne, Zoe and the company men hefted the load onto the bed of the truck.

“Fortune smiles on us yet again, my loyal crew,” he announced as he returned to the back of the truck, where the work was just concluded.

“And the first time was when?” Zoe asked with a smirk.

“See, its this kind of demoralizing pessimism that sucks the heart and soul right out of folk.”

“And to think, if I applied myself, I could probably inspire mass suicide.”

“Moving right past your sadistic spreading of gloom and doom, we got the return run. The planets hereabouts have a reciprocal set-up -- raw goods from one go to the other to get made into stuff and things, then shipped back.”

“How long before the 'stuff and things' get here?”

“Couple hours, during which time I need to go to their office and sign off on some official rigamarole. Jayne, got a sidearm?” Jayne just gave him a 'stupid question' glare. “You're with me. Zoe,” he tossed her a large coin from the payment, “man told me there's a green market just down the strip. What say we get crazy and loose and have some vegetables at supper tonight, maybe some bread?”

“You sure know how to party, Captain,” Zoe said dryly, but drolly smiled. She turned back into the ship to retrieve Wash. One benefit of marriage, she had found, was that you always had someone to drag along shopping with you.

Mal turned and began walking to the less dusty parts of town, where loading platforms gave way to stores and offices. Jayne fell in behind him, keeping a weather eye on the unconcerned citizens of the respectable-sized settlement. On reaching the correct building, the two men entered through the big front door and went directly to the upstairs offices.

Unseen by the men as they crossed the lobby, a signboard scrolled through the news of the planets of that sector. After the prices of commodities and reports of travel conditions, warrants began to flash across the screen, one with a sketch of a familiar face. “Wanted on Janus: Jayne Cobb. Charge: Willful Murder. Convicted in absentia, sentenced to death. Do not approach. Contact Sheriff Gibson of Tiberinus.”

There was a jovial, familial atmosphere whenever the crew of Serenity assembled in the galley. There was a jovial, familial atmosphere every time but this time. Everyone was quiet and stood or sat stiffly. The only exception was Kaylee, who hid her face in her hands, elbows on the table. The palpable tension was densest near the captain, who stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, his mouth closed tightly. Last to arrive, Wash entered finally, all things navigational handled on the bridge, and seated himself next to his stoic wife quickly and without jibe, the tenor of the meeting evident from the corridor.

"I'm all for a person keeping hisself to hisself and not one for tellin' another man's business, but this will come to affect the entire crew, so it may be it's appropriate this time. Or would you like to tell them, Kaylee?"

Kaylee's head snapped up, her fair skin blotchy and her eyes rimmed in red. Most everyone looked at her before Mal continued.

"Little Kaylee's gotten herself pregnant. Doc confirmed it." It seemed that even the engine held its silence along with the crew. "I don't cotton to the idea of babes-in-arms in the engine room, but I can't see to dismissing you summarily."

Kaylee's face went back into her hands. She wished like hell that she could get mad, fly into a rage, punch, kick, and scream, like most folk. All she could seem to do was cry, and she was near to crying again. Soothing hands, Inara's, rubbed her back.

"Don't coddle her!" Mal snapped, his own ire rising through the veiling mantle of leadership. Instantly, Kaylee was on her feet, slamming her palms down on the thick planks of the table.

"I didn't do anything!"

It was not commonplace for Mal to actually raise his voice and that held the assembly even more transfixed. "How can you keep singin' that same sad song? Obviously you did!" Mal looked down at the hand that had clamped onto his wrist as Kaylee toppled her chair, and nearly Inara, to run from the mess.

"Sir," Zoe said evenly and calmly as she released him, "what's going on here?"

"Girl claims she hasn't dallied with anyone, which plainly isn't true." He looked to Simon, who gave a nod as his abbreviated medical testimony.

"You can't just kick her off, Mal" Inara stood and faced him.

"She's not my daughter, she's my mechanic. And a fat lot of good she'll do us with a baby on her tit while the engine flies apart."

Wash raised a hand, carefully interjecting himself into the fray. "This isn't especially suggestion-like or helpful necessarily, but.... whose is it?"

"Sure as go se ain't mine," Mal huffed as he dropped rather heavily into his seat. All eyes turned to Simon, the most likely candidate. He knew full well the reason they were looking at him and chose to address them as a doctor, not a suspect.

"Kaylee maintains her...position. She hasn't identified a father nor would she consent to a paternity test."

"And you're sure about this?" Zoe asked.

"Blood tests were positive. Even without scans, which I can’t do for want of proper equipment, the odds of two false positives in a row are slim at best."

Quiet again. Mal was just rising to leave when Jayne spoke. "I'll take her."

"What?!" filled the room in convergent voices.

"Jayne, you the man of the hour?"

Jayne glared at Mal, "Wouldn’t’ve left Kaylee twisting like that if it were mine."

"Then you are on the verge of being seriously-"

"She can go to Newhall. You hire yourself another mechanic. My ma will take her in, take care of her til she's ready to drop."

"And then?"

"I take whatever money I got saved up, and I go home too."

"Hoa le, Jayne. I think I've heard enough."

"That's very...” Wash searched for the word to fit this bizarre turn of events, " 'nice'?"

"Shouldn't Kaylee have some say in this?" Inara asked, a stern rhetorical question.

"Did you formulate that plan just now?" Simon leaned forward, his voice flat, eyes hard. "Have you, by any chance, told Kaylee about your altruistic-" he stopped dead as a silver flash and blur of motion drove Jayne's large knife into the table, six inches or so from his chest. His hands raised instantly in a reflex of submission, Simon could see Zoe, sidearm drawn, to the left of them.

"Jayne," she warned.

Rocking the knife once, Jayne jerked it from the table and stuffed it back into the sheath on his hip. "This ain’t a joke and I don't say things I don't mean. You all don't like it, you can ha wo deh bang.” His boots left the angry sound of his exit echoing.

The transfer case replacement had gone quickly enough with help from Wash, who gauged his levity with great diligence, making just enough jokes to draw a smile out of Kaylee, which had not been seen by anyone in days. Withdrawn now to her cabin, Kaylee was wedged between the head and the wall when River nimbled down the ladder with a tin mug in one hand. “Never fun, being sick every day.” She handed Kaylee the mug and pulled a washcloth from the nearby rod to wipe her mouth. “Makes you want to stop eating altogether, but then you just get so hungry, so hungry you don't know if you can eat.” Kaylee nodded and leaned her weight back against the bulkhead. She felt exhausted in body and spirit. Mornings were getting progressively more difficult and she was weak and dizzy most of the day. Leave aside the fact that the blood tests were wrong, but no one believed her. The captain hated her. Simon would not look her in the eye. Jayne stared at her funny. Everyone else was on eggshells whenever she was around. No one would treat her like Little Kaylee, trusty ship’s mechanic, anymore. She was crying again before she even realized it. River bundled the soiled cloth the other way over and swabbed at her cheeks.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.”

“Oh, River,” she sobbed. Even River, the mind reader, her best friend, did not understand. Kaylee cried for her solitude.

“Now this is what I call a dream job,” Wash proclaimed as he stepped onto the bridge, “except in my dream, you were naked and there was a white rhino in that corner over there where the couch used to be.”

Zoe just smiled at her husband from the pilot's seat. “No cheerleaders this time?” She stood up just briefly so Wash could sit down, then settled herself on his lap, arms looped over his shoulders.

“I didn't feel the need for extra encouragement.” He kissed her nose and enjoyed the little snorted laugh it always provoked. “Besides, they don't make skirts short enough or pom-poms pommy enough to take my attention off my honey-pumpkin-lover. However, an incredibly short skirt on my honey-pumpkin-lover-”

“Down, boy,” and she kissed him with strength and tenderness.

“Oh, there's no talking him down now.”

“How's Kaylee doing?”

“Except that.” The giggle-fest of kisses bankrupted, Wash wrapped his arms more tightly around Zoe's svelte waist and retired his head to her shoulder. “Kaylee sad is not something I thought I'd see for more than, like, 10 minutes in the whole stretch of recorded history. She just kept looking at me with these big eyes, like somebody'd kicked the cutest, tiniest puppy in the box.... It was like she was begging me to believe her,” he said with a doleful sigh. He and Kaylee had been rather close friends, as thick as thieves, when the crew was small. But time and a wedding and an unrequited love had silently moved them apart. He had not even noticed when it had happened, but now Wash felt like he no longer had the province to delve too deeply into matters personal with Kaylee.

“Do you believe her?”

“It's sorta hard to argue with the test results.”

“But she does.”

“And yet she does,” he echoed.

Zoe rested her cheek on Wash's brush-cut blond hair. Her man had a good heart, that he hurt for his friend, but it was Mal who rose in her thoughts. No one could begrudge a healthy young girl like Kaylee wanting a little physical affection after so much time sequestered in their beloved soup can. An impending baby could cultivate a great deal of wrath in those around it, but Mal's was different. Zoe thought back to the harshness of his voice as he publicly exposed this intensely personal situation. It seemed that it was Kaylee's protestations of innocence, more than her condition, that had his hackles up. Mal seemed betrayed and defensive, which lead him into anger. Zoe hugged Wash close.

Alone in the infirmary, Simon was startled when Mal knocked on the door jamb. Not surprised by the sound itself, but by the captain's preface. Typically, Mal would just say “Doc,” and lunch into the subject at hand. Today, he waited for Simon to turn and address him.

“Yes, Captain?”

“We've managed to cobble together a decent pharmacy, right, Doc?”

“Subjectively speaking, yes.”

“I mean to say, you're reasonably prepared for most sorts of ...medical....stuff.”

“Is there something specific you wished to inquire about?”

“Alright. Tsao gao. What do we have here of an aborative nature?”

Stunned into silence by the blatant implications, Simon gaped slightly, wide eyed and speechless. When he regained mastery of his expression, he forwent the more obvious question of 'who'. “Do you plan to present this option to Kaylee or should I just slip it in her soup?”

Mal's face was stern, an expression that brooked no insubordination. Simon, for his part, knew not to push too hard, but was firm in his conviction and it showed in his posture. “Let's pretend you didn't just suggest I'd secretly poison a woman to kill her baby. Better for you that we did. Tell me whether or not you have anything fitting.”

“There's nothing 'fitting' about this line of conversation.”

“I can't figure how you've come under the misapprehension that answering me is somehow optional, but I have asked you a direct question, directly relating to your job here, so either you answer me directly or I'll have Jayne come in and look.”

With his infirmary thus taken hostage, Simon relented. He sighed and pushed a hand through his black hair. “There are any number of compounds that are counter-indicated during pregnancy, but I would be wholly remiss as a physician to administer an unnecessary drug whose primary function may actually do harm to a healthy body. You might ask Inara-”

Mal held up a hand, stopping the words that were primed in Simon's mouth. “See, I can respect that answer.” He crossed his arms and paused for a breath. “Is there anything we could conceivably stumble across in these parts that would serve the need without-”

“Respectfully, Captain,” Simon enunciated his interruption very clearly, “I really don't plan to discuss this option any more unless Kaylee herself comes to me.”

“Kaylee's already here,” she announced from the doorway. Mal did not twitch, but he could not conceal the way some of the color drained from his face as he turned. Kaylee looked like she had been through a gauntlet, but above all else, she looked mad. “You ever think to invite a person to a conversation in their honor?”

“How long were you standing behind me there?”

“A lot longer than I would've liked.”

“Kaylee, I was only-”

“Stuff it, Captain....sir.” Angry as she may have been, and she was angry, Kaylee was still Kaylee. She stepped around Mal instead of shouldering him out of her way, which would have better suited her mood. “I came in for some doctoring.”

“I'll just slide out then.”

“Ya know what?” Kaylee fixed him with a flinty look in her green eyes. “Why don't you just stay? You seem terrible concerned about me and medicine today. So just sit your hinder up on the other bed and get comfy, how 'bout it.” For emphasis, she pointed. She pointed until Mal resigned himself to leaning against the counter. The universe held very few women who could -or would even try to- order Malcolm Reynolds around, though some days it seemed they were all collected on the same ship. “Xie xie. Now then, Doctor Tam.”

'Doctor Tam.' Simon felt admonished. “Are you still feeling nauseous?” he asked.   Kaylee nodded. “I don't even eat hardly but I can't stop throwing up. Dizzy too. And my belly's started to hurt,” she rested a hand below her navel.

“Well, a certain amount of discomfort is to be expected.”

“Not like this, even if it were.”

“Alright, if you want to lay down on the bed...”

Markedly less spryly than she had a few days earlier, Kaylee got up on the adjustable table and carefully laid back. Sharply aware of the third presence in the room, Simon left Kaylee's threadbare shirt and flannel sleep pants in situ to preserve what modesty she had left. With measured pressure, Simon prodded Kaylee's abdomen with his fingertips, beginning near her ribcage and methodically working his way across, down, across, down. Simon watched his hands, Kaylee watched Simon.

“Simon. I know what you must be thinking, even if it ain't right, and I wouldn't blame you, but...but why do you have to be so cold to me anymore?”

Simon paused in his work and hazarded a look at her. Her every emotion was clear on her face and at times Simon envied her that sort of freedom. Now, he wished more than anything that he had not looked into those eyes so full of hurt.

“Kaylee, I'm sorry,” Simon said in a voice that was soft, clear and honestly contrite. He broke his eyes from hers and began palpating again. “Maybe later, when we have more privacy-”

Kaylee gasped and her whole body twinged convulsively as Simon pressed the center of her lower abdomen, just above her pubic symphasis. “I'm sorry. I'll try to be as gentle as I can, but I need to feel your abdomen. Just a little longer.” Kaylee nodded and bit her lower lip, staring hard at the ceiling and gripping the edges of the bed as Simon continued the examination. “It's okay, I'm done now,” Simon said, to which Kaylee let out a deep, tremulous breath. “I'm concerned about the feel of your uterus. I'd like to do a pelvic exam.”

“The feet-in-the-stirrups kinda exam?”

Simon nodded. “Captain, if you would kindly step out.”

Kaylee froze Mal in place with a look. “Oh, no, he kindly don't.” She swallowed down a swell of nervousness and shame. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” She looked again to Simon. “If he wants to be in my business, let him be in my business.”

Simon did not agree, but ultimately it was not his place to contradict her waiver of privacy.

Mal certainly did not agree, either. The last thing he wanted was to be a conscripted spectator to a lady-doctor interaction, but a thin spike of guilt had pinned him in place. Behind the anger in Kaylee's face was hurt and betrayal he had caused. He had caused it.

Under the veil of the wide paper drape Simon had provided, Kaylee slid out of her pajama bottoms and panties. Heat rose in her face, but Kaylee gathered her strength to feign detachment as she repositioned herself, naked from the waist down, feet at the level of the seated Simon's shoulders. She fought to hold back the implications of 'Doctor Tam' examining her so intimately while she still nurtured a hope that 'Simon' might someday do likewise. At least the captain could see nothing untoward from his vantage, she consoled herself. Again, she gripped the edges of the bed tightly as Simon wheeled a small tray next to the bed.

Mal cleared his throat as Simon prepared to begin. “Doc, I really don't...”

“She wants you to stay, Captain.” Simon did not divert his attention any further. “There's going to be a little pressure.” Simon gently inserted the chilly instrument. “A small injection now.” He repositioned the bright lamp and examined her closely. “Kaylee, would you like something to help you relax?”

“Wouldn't say no.” Kaylee's grip on the bed loosened slightly.

“Captain, would you go to the third drawer from the left -no, your left- and draw me three cc's of ketabarbitol?”

Mal carefully picked through the myriad vials and ampules and, finding the correct drug, loaded it into the hypodermic. “In the arm?”

“Yes, center mass of the bicep, thank you.”

“Okay, Kaylee, little prick.”

“Yeah, he's standing next to the bed,” she sniped. Simon snorted an truncated laugh before he caught himself. Kaylee winced slightly as the needle pierced her skin, but it was over in a matter of seconds and she began to feel less tense. “Oh, I think I like this stuff.” Kaylee's eyes closed and her head dropped to one shoulder.

“Whoa, doc, was that supposed to happen?” Mal asked, genuinely concerned he might have over-medicated her.

“It was a possibility,” Simon said calmly. “It might not hurt if she were unconscious just now.”

Weapons were spread on the galley table like a buffet of metal for Jayne. He needed distraction, to have his hands and mind occupied. Cleaning and maintenance provided him with a satisfying enough distraction that he could even ignore River, who sat at the head of the table, alternately brushing her hair and reading from an anthology of poetry. It was a good omen to see River’s hair well-kempt; it meant that she was calm and tractable. That the damaged and often unpredictable girl was brushing and pinning back her own hair was a good sign indeed. “Hey. Girlie.”

“My birth registry doesn't say “girlie” anywhere on it,” she said dryly and licked a fingertip to turn the next page.

Jayne snorted. “River.” She looked up at him, her face the visage of ennui. “Why don’t we put that special brain of yours to good use and tell me what’s goin’ on in there, with Kaylee?”

River rolled her eyes. “That’s privileged information, doctor-patient-telepath confidentiality.”

“So you can read minds?”

"You think I can." The crooked smile River gave him made Jayne’s skin crawl, though he gave her no outward indication of his discomfort. “I can give you impressions, that shouldn't be too unethical.” She straightened slightly in her seat and drew a slow breath, like an orator preparing for a great speech. “Simon is surprised …and …concerned, but not overly so, at least that’s what he tells himself.”

“But Kaylee’s gonna be okay?”

“She’ll be fine now.” River smiled to herself at the faint sigh of relief she heard from Jayne. “No babies, though.”

“What, is something wrong?” Mal asked.

“You might say that.” Simon took a pair of long-fingers from the tray and from underneath the drape he produced a small, white, squirming mass.

“Yehsoo, je shr shuh muh lan dong shi?” Face queered up in disgusted curiosity, Mal leaned a little closer. “It's a ... grub?”

“It's some kind of larva, yes.” Simon turned the long-fingers back and forth. Holding the larva up to the light, he could see the outline of a full meal of blood in its belly.

“Doc, why are there larvas in Kaylee's...inside of Kaylee?”

“'Larvae,' and I wish I knew,” Simon took an emisus basin and dropped the wriggling blob into it, “but her uterus is full of them.”

The monitor on the wall beeped mindlessly along with Kaylee's steady heartbeat as Simon worked to remove the parasitic creatures from her womb. One at a time, he withdrew them with a careful instrument and discarded them in the slowly-filling basin. Some were laying loose in her swollen uterus, others were firmly attached to the life-giving tissue, feeding. Simon stopped counting after one hundred. Periodically, Mal cursed.

Jayne moved his chair closer to River’s, his eyes intense with compounding emotions. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, River just looked at Jayne, her expression dour. “No baby now, no babies ever. There’s too much scarring. The odds of zygote implantation are statistically insignificant.” She watched her pronouncement reflect on Jayne’s face as he tried to digest her words, not because he was confounded but because he understood. River reached one small hand toward him and laid it palm-up on the table. It would be presumptuous and even dangerous to touch Jayne, even out of sympathy. She had hurt him once and he had hurt her right back. Jayne looked from her hand to her deep brown eyes and slowly moved his hand to rest on top of hers. River wrapped her fingers around his. This was the first and likely the last time River Tam and Jayne Cobb would touch each other in kindness. “You’d gotten used to the idea. Grown accustomed to the thoughts of little wife and auburn-haired babies. I’m sorry you’re sad, Jayne.”

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not.” As quickly as it had begun, their aberrantly intimate moment had ended.

“There,” Simon pronounced, “that's all of them.”

“Ya know, Doc, I've seen a lot of weird ruttin' go se in my life, but...this...” Mal gestured in the direction of the curved metal basin mounded up with writhing red-centered white intruders.

“I know, it ranks pretty high on my list, too.” Simon moved the basin to the counter and snapped off his gloves. “I'm going to start Kaylee on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, then try to determine exactly what these are and how she came to have them.” He turned back to the captain and leaned heavily on the counter. “Then comes the hard part.”

“We have to apologize.”

“Yeah.”

In communal silence, the two men thought on the last few days, the way they had treated Kaylee, each on his own dubious skills with kind language.

Mal stared down at Kaylee's sleeping face, all but cherubic in her peace. “We are so humped.”