Title: Remorse Author: GoddessofBirth Series: Dross-verse; follows 'Out of the Shadow of the Valley' Pairing: Implied Rayne Rating: PG Disclaimer: If I owned this, would I be writing fanfic?

A/N: For those who were wondering, there will be two more ficlets for this 'verse and then it will be done.

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The man sat at the bar, slowly nursing a mug of beer. A whore sashayed toward him, but before she got close enough to touch, he turned in her direction and growled fiercely, sending her scurrying back the way she'd come.

He felt the captain approach but didn't acknowledge him, even when he slid onto the stool next to him.

The captain cleared his throat.

“I hear tell you're the best gun this side of the 'verse. Got a ship that occasionally sees a spot of trouble. Could be useful havin' someone like you aboard.'

The man grunted and stared into his drink. 'Already got a job.'

The captain shifted on the stool. 'How much they payin' you?'

The man wiped a nonexistent smear off the bar. 'Ten percent, straight off the top.'

'I can offer you ten an' a half. Got your own bunk?'

The man shook his head. 'Naw, but that don't bother me none.'

He raised his drink to his mouth and the captain caught a flash of gold glinting off his hand.

'Well, we can offer you free run of the kitchen, ten an' a half percent, an' your own bunk – sharin' it's up to you. Nice bunk. In fact, it's the same bunk our last mercenary an' his girl used. Ain't had nobody in it since; just haven't quite been able to replace 'im before now.'

The man was silent, arms folded across his chest. The captain shifted uneasily on the stool. He started to speak, hesitated, then began again.

'Ah, there's one other thing you outta know, should you decide to ship out with us.' The captain cleared his throat again and picked an imaginary piece of dirt from underneath his thumbnail.

'When you join our crew, you join a family. And, ah, like all families, sometimes, we, ah -' the captain momentarily fumbled with his words.

'Sometimes we might mishandle situations, might make mistakes, might inadvertently hurt other family members without thinkin'.'

The man's jaw clenched, but his eyes remained glued to the cortex busily singing the praises of oaty bars.

The captain continued.

'Thing is, we'd hate to lose any of our family on account of us doing a thing some could possibly term as, well, stupid. 'Cause we're, you know, family.'

The captain trailed off uncertainly, eyes on the man.

Other than the one flex of his jaw, he remained impassive, and returned to drinking.

The captain rushed on.

'Truth of the matter is, we're lookin' for a pilot as well, should you know anyone that's in the market.'

The minutes ticked by, and still the man said nothing. The captain grew increasingly uneasy, but was unwilling to admit defeat. He shifted in his seat again and ran his hand through his hair, tugging it into unsightly tufts.

Finally, just as he was gathering his thoughts to speak again, the big man gave a sigh and drained the last of his drink.

He got to his feet and looked at the captain for the first time. The man shook his head ruefully before inclining it toward the door.

'Reckon we'd best be goin' then; girl's already waitin' with our bags.'

The captain grinned his very best captainy grin and followed the man out the door, into the day.

It was time to find his boat a doctor.