Mal spent the first few days in a vague haze, like incense smoke and phoenix feathers rising from the ashes. The doc had him medicated up to his ears to keep him from wandering off too soon from the operating chair and reopening his wounds. He slept to the rhythm of his crew stopping by, every time he blinked there was someone else checking in on him. Even Jayne once or twice, and in retrospect he wondered how it was that he wasn't smothered by his own pillow. Maybe the big ox had grown - they'd all bonded some lately.

River had been hovering around him too, like a spirit guide of sorts listening in on his hallucinations. So he wasn't startled when he opened his eyes, and she was standing by studying him like a raven perched on the gallows. She lifted a silver cross in front of her face, hypnotic, watching the pendulum sway. One of these days, he'd have a conversation with her about stealing from the captain's quarters. Maybe when he could actually walk up the stairs to his own bunk without the long trip leaving him weak and dizzy. Maybe some other time when he'd forgotten that he was only alive because of them on his ship and River's part in that. The troubled girl dropped the chain in his hand. "Thanks," he grunted, and meant the rescue. In the very least, he was out of that ruined orange monkey suit, and back in some of his own clothes.

She looked at him keenly, and pulled out another ligature, and tossed it to him. He ran his thumb over the trinkets, thoughtful, then saw scrutiny from the teen psychic, and shoved them both in his pockets. Then she skipped away and he was alone again.

"Wèi," he called after her, but she wasn't there anymore. The infirmary suddenly seemed a lot bigger and too bright. He tried to stand to go look for her - couldn't lose anyone else to this place - but he could only raise himself up on his elbows.

That's when he saw his arms were strapped down. Trussed up for the scalpels. They came back, they'd drug him again. He didn't have any idea what they wanted, he couldn't remember afterwards, and he didn't want to know. He struggled against the bonds, and something popped, either a tendon or the shackle, but one side was loose, and he set to trying to pry up the other one.

Mal froze, thought he heard something, searched the featureless expanse. No one there, he realized again, and passed his free hand over his face. The terrors again - they came and went in fits, both day and night instead of giving him the decency of a breather. Never be gorramn rid of them, he supposed. They'd be with him until the day he died. He'd end up clawing his way along the walls, his fingernails bleeding, shaken by the overpowering impulse to escape. Other times the crew would gather around trying to talk him out of some corner so they could dope him and get him back to the infirmary.

Wasn't the worst he'd ever been through really. Inara was always there, somehow the first to reach him. She didn't belong in the places he saw, not her or her perfume, or the chiffon and silk of the Ezra wardrobe she'd started wearing. Not her soft hair, or her golden skin, or her shining eyes. She both grounded him and set him aflight. He'd taken to imagining her in the late hours, a relief from the ghosts of friends and the relentless threat of both savage and civilized monsters. He didn't mind so much when the nightmares ended with her whisking him away. Less embarrassing than the oddly too-real dreams he'd had lately where she dressed him and helped him shave, or the other fantasies he remembered too eagerly whenever she was near. Whispered promises, her in a garden, an ocean, twilight, under the clear sky, and just her, in the natural female form, at the moment of her most wild beauty.

She was standing in the doorway like a vision of compassion, in a blue shawl over a white gown and the nearest he'd ever seen to an actual miracle. Tangible or not, she seemed almost to float to him on her approach. Inara tugged him upright, as though the restraints were nothing to her, and away down the halls and tunnels.

- - - - - A week later and they were almost on even kilter again. Nothing like a long inter-quadrant trip to settle back into routine. Jayne in the cargo bay, pumping iron. Simon back to all the awkward and painfully shy. Zoë with the vigilance she'd taken up since Miranda, like an unsynced copy of the captain, patrolling on her own while he was laid up. Kaylee devoted herself to the engine, kept everything fine-tuned, but even the love Serenity always needed couldn't keep her busy all the time. Everyone had to eat eventually.

She watched their four teenage stowaways gathered at the table, her hands wrist deep in soap water and dishes. River had become their impromptu leader after Zoë had let her off from the chloroform grounding after a day of moping around. The other three, they hadn't known much to do with the kids except they were probably friends of River, and that was just shiny in Kaylee's estimation. The girl needed someone to talk all her figures to, and River and Lucy where always at it, speaking in jargon, pouring over imaginary chemistry and physics. The other two were more than not off in their own world, the dark haired boy Cho dazed and dreaming, the other mousy-haired, terribly silent and watchful.

Kaylee heard them recalculating their astro-nav route - River would have to take the helm and make landfall in a few hours. So there was time to take their other passengers their meal. She put together a couple plates of bao and rice added to the tray of the bisque-ware tea set they kept in the kitchen, right beside the clean fork and chopsticks she'd found. No one else on the ship seemed willing, so Kaylee had taken it upon herself to cheer the elder Tams up and make a good impression.

Just the few seconds she had looked away and River was hidden, while Lucy and Cho were chasing each other round and round. Kaylee laughed. "Better not be any food thieves about," she called, and stepped out from behind the counter. River grinned at her from where she was crouched around the corner and snatched away a stuffed bun. After playfully fending off the little bandit, she made her way to the dorms and knocked.

"Kaylee?" Regan Tam asked, graceful and always with a kind of nervous quaver that made Kaylee feel sorry for her. "Is anything wrong with the ship?"

The two of them were sitting in their places, Regan straight-backed on the edge of the mattress, Gabriel in the chair at the desk, and worrying as usual. They always asked that, ever since she'd told them she was the mechanic. She reminded herself that there were concerned more because they were nervous flyers than any real lack of faith in her skills or Serenity, but the doubt always stung a little. "Just fine!" she answered, swallowing her pride and her ready defense of the ship - never seemed to convince them how great it was living here. "We'll be landing on Persephone in a while, thought you might want a snack," she held up the tray, then glanced at River behind her, "or maybe want someone to talk to before you go."

There was an audible gasp, and then they rushed to hug River, taking turns to assure themselves their girl was real and there, and Kaylee was immediately forgotten in the reunion. She blinked away a tearful smile at the family, set the food aside for them, and left them alone to talk.

- - - - - Under the spreading chestnut tree. The deep roots with teeth that bite - digging down, down, sucking them dry. Shapes of memories, ghosts she'd known. But they'd changed. They all had. Made choices they couldn't take back.

They were strangers. Five years apart. She was the fog now. Clouded. Murky. The River flowing uphill. She was no longer the eager fourteen year old with the bright future. The one with dresses made of sunlight, a debutant ball with sparkling music, obnoxious boys who couldn't name the elementary particles. None of it real. Not even a Mad Hatter and a March Hare. The careful porcelain tea cups with pink blossoms were locked in the fine china cabinet for another year, gathering dust. They couldn't see the shards where they were glued back together, but they'd break along those edges, razor sharp.

Frost layered over that reunion, transparent and unseen, their embrace brittle and cold. They felt like knives in her arms. Shiny heirlooms that once tried to protect her, tried to protect Simon. Warmth echoed from the past, but she felt it at a distance, through the glass of time. Only cold comfort now. "There's my girl," said Gabriel Tam. But she wasn't, they knew she wasn't. She wasn't theirs anymore.

"Oh River. We were worried." Regan Tam, always idly chatting with the other upperclass Osiris housewives over the biscuits and hors d'oeuvres on a silver platter. Kept up appearances even when black shiny boots and suits were in the parlour. Her perfect family on their perfect strings like dolls.

"You're scared," she said, around all the desperate acting, trying to feel how they should. "For yourselves, for Simon. City mice in the country. Thought you found your lost golden treasure, hearty and filling. Melted away from the cold steel trigger. Snap snap snap." The creeping black tendrils of uncertainty rose back to the surface. They stunk of fear. A glance between each other as they pulled away, back to cold decorum. They'd heard their only daughter was crazy. Hadn't expected this. Should have. Simon had warned them. "You didn't ask for me."

The agents threatened her brother. Simple overdose of legal supplemental stimulant spiked in the hospital coffee. A trade - signatures on the dotted line. Offered a top-tier education and a waiting job offer in military intelligence. And experiments. And involuntary surgery.

"When we found you you'd just killed someone," her father blustered.

She'd killed lots of people. Assassin. Her time away had turned her into this. Conditioned response training and codewords, a secret world underneath society and below even the underworld, monitoring everything. The underlying order at the root of civilization. Hungering and parasitic. Failure was final.

"You sent me there. Signed the certificate, stamped and notarized. Death sentence."

"River..." Mother struggled with the words. With the guilt. "It's very complicated." No. Even they didn't believe that. The Tams chose Simon, and gave her up for lost. And when Simon went to save her, they weren't there. She didn't blame them. Simon was always so good. She'd have saved him too. Then they stood in his way. Why didn't they try?

She was upsetting them. "It's okay." Wasn't. Never would be. Her mind gone, scratched to pieces and drained out like a sieve. "I can play. I can dance. No one cuts me here, or evaluates impact pressure and simulated death count. No guns. No knives. They let me fly."

Quiet dismay. They saw now all that their daughter would never have, the life lost to her, traded for them and their son. They didn't see the progress, the small steps, the peace she'd found. Her brother was looking after her. Always her keeper, ever since he was little, yelling when the neighbor boy pushed her in the mud and she cried. "Is Simon all right?" Father had been so proud when his son passed the medical exams. Never anticipated he would be wasting his talent on a crew of brigands and a broken sister.

"Sometimes happy. He's with Kaylee," she answered. Her nose scrunched at the thought. "Not always," she corrected, "and not right now. Rug burns would be significant." Puzzlement. So lucky. She knew better. "Sunshine on daisies. Not the choleric type. Doesn't want anyone to feel excluded." Kaylee had grown up on the outskirts, ever since the day she went to the one-room school in burlap, and the rich girls laughed at her. Her only good dress ripped while repairing a rotor.

"She's a nice girl," Regan agreed. Didn't know what else to say. The children wouldn't forgive them, not just yet. They were grown now. Independent.

Fallen from grace. Abandoned. "You're not staying." Have to see what they'd done everyday. Couldn't help her, couldn't cope. They'd stay with the Shepherd's Order, parallel lives running and hiding scared. Hard times ahead. No comforts like they'd been accustomed. She felt sorry for them. "I'll miss you." She hugged them again, this time warm and real, and said goodbye.

- - - - - Eventually the black stopped staring menacing pupil-shine back at him. Only the constellations remained, that and the glimmer of starlight across Inara's doe eyes as she waited serenely across him on the bridge console, poised in the space between the switches and toggles. He loosened his grip on the armrests.

Inara was running her fingers through his hair, the movement sending waves of heat rushing through him. Tiān ya, this wasn't his imagination. She was fussing over him like a wounded dog. Get it together, he rebuked himself, feeling foolish, and met the pity in her gaze. "This ain't the infirmary," he said, as though there were any doubt. The question remained why was he at the helm, and why she was wearing such a low cut dress.

"You don't like the infirmary," she was teasing him, almost reproving, but there was something consoling in her voice. And exasperated. "I thought you might appreciate the view."

Of course she'd seen his discomfort, him exposed to the cold under the bright lights, and knew exactly where his mind took him. River said too much, burdened her with all his gǒu shǐ. "Less risk anyway," he muttered, turning his head away from her touch. No good, just gave her a better vantage. Must have damaged his pride on top of nearly bleeding to death; his eyes were trying to close of their own volition, and he didn't have the willpower to shrug her off him.

Her hand stilled, then she pulled away and deprived him. "For me? Or for you?" she asked sharply, challenging him. "Mal, whatever time you spent in that place, you're not a reaver. You wouldn't hurt any of us."

Mal scowled to himself. "I attacked Jayne and made Zoë knock me out," he argued. "I endangered all of you." He was still a threat at that, so long as he was more rudderless than usual. Last thing any of them needed was for him to have an episode and pull a gun on Kaylee. Or Inara, since she was determined to put herself in harm's way. "Should've left me."

Anger flashed across her eyes, and she drew herself, then slid herself off the side of the ledge. "You'll have your wish soon enough," she answered, frost over spitfire, her words cold enough to sear him. "I'd like to borrow the shuttle when we reach Persephone, captain." Not even at first name basis anymore. "I'll even pay rent."

She strode away in a huff, down from the bridge, and after a moment fighting with himself, he stood up after her, looming at the top of the stairs. "Why d'you need the shuttle?" Wrong question, he already knew that. He'd chased her off again, because he wasn't good enough. He hated the jealous suspicion, the possessiveness he always heard in his own voice.

Inara paused, then looked back up at him. Her lips thinned. She'd heard the accusation. Gorramn companion training. "My aunt Vihara," she answered, with a this-is-none-of-your-business expression. He countered with a its-my-gorramn-shuttle and crossed his arms until she capitulated. "She was worried and flew out to meet me at the temple in Demeter."

Great. So now he was the beast denying beauty the chance to visit with family. "Been a while?" he asked, with forced interest.

"Since Sihnon. She was a dear friend of my mother, and helped raise me." She'd never really mentioned any of that. There was something sad and wistful in her explanation, and his curiosity turned more genuine. Then she shot him a warning glare. "She was also the Priestess of House Madrassa in my time there."

Sweet aunt Vihara who also taught a little girl in dark ringlets how to sell her integrity to rich men. "So, ain't seen her or even talked to her for a few years. She sees your death notice over the cortex, and contacts you right away, not a doubt in her mind where to find you. Travels all the way to Persephone. And you're going anyway." Yep. If this wasn't a trap he'd get down on his knees and propose to her. "So who's behind this you think? Atherton Wing, another psychopath friend of yours? Maybe one of mine. Or an Operative, that's always a joyous -"

She whirled at him. "I stay and you leave me, I leave and you ask me to stay. What do you want from me, Mal?"

There was a double meaning there and he didn't want to look to closely. He bristled in defense. "I could ask the same! What the hell does it take to impress you?" She wasn't looking at him so tender anymore. Never would again probably - she'd be leaving, because the Guild could offer her so much more, and all he wanted - What? he asked himself furiously. Be her hero, get a kiss from the lady?

The question seemed to hit her hard. In the mirrors of her eyes, he saw himself, forced to see her lose more ground every day. Hurt more, because of him. Saw her watching him back as she pulled him out of a nightmare. "Try not to die so much," she suggested, her voice blunt. She turned away, down the hallway, and for a moment he thought he'd heard something like a tremor. Concern maybe. For him.

"Wait." Lucky for him, she did, although she seemed ready to slap him. He'd gone amiss again - ass backwards and contrary as per usual, his hands wrapped around the metal chain links down his pockets like contrition. Her eyes were like to set him aflame, normally great fun to get under her skin and a touch of pride for him. Less so much when he was about to lose her for good and she was about to break him over his own galley floor. They studied each other like caged animals, and he tried to find the words to say something. One wrong move and she'd tear his heart out. Doesn't matter now, he told himself, damage done. "I shouldn't lecture you." After all the ambushes and risks he took, he had no ground to stand on.

The surprise that abruptly chased her fury was almost painful to see. He really treated her so poorly that any apology from him was a shock? No wonder this was so easy for her, he'd made for certain sure that she wouldn't want to be in even the same 'verse as him.

Mal couldn't change that. But River had reminded him, he could do this much. He approached her, and she didn't run. "Meant to give this to you," he told her, no mention of her last two departures. She knew anyway. Him letting her just walk out of his life, too standoffish and stubborn, and too much of a gorramn coward, to even properly say goodbye. He took her by the wrist and pressed the two steel tags into her palm. Her fingers closed around them.

Nothing to speak of, just his name, unit, blood type, and homeworld engraved into the metal. A tarnished relic of a better man than him, one who still had faith, and hope, and ideals, and love. Not much else to give her. Belonged to Inara now, and maybe always had, he had no real claim anymore. He'd betrayed the memory of that soldier more than any of the others.

And he was half expecting her to throw it back at his head.

When she looked up at him, she had an unreadable expression he'd seen before but never could conjure what it meant. Wide-eyed, her irises dark, soulful even. Her lips parted like to speak, her head tilted back in a way that made him suddenly all too aware how close they were. He could actually feel her breath against his neck. He forced himself to step away from the warmth of her, almost burned. She stared at him in open confusion. "You don't want to be late," he said, his tone like gravel. Inara didn't move at first, and he had to put a hand at her waist briefly to steer her, send her along. She found her feet, and glanced at him, a long look from over her shoulder as she moved, pausing at the door way. Then gone.

He felt the shuttle detach when he finally followed her. He flattened his hand against the airlock, curled his hand into a fist against the pull on him as she flew away. Selfish. What the hell was wrong with him? She needed the core worlds, the comforts, the doctors. He loved her. And if she stayed, he asked himself, was it worth it? He'd love her to death. He owed her more than that, more than he could ever say. So long as she was alive in the verse, that was all that mattered. She could visit him in his dreams, he told himself firmly. He could accept that. But he'd always want more.

- - - - - The Tam's departure was a tense, unfriendly occasion. The two of them followed Jayne out with some unease, while their son stood by like a gunfighter. His first mate stepped up beside him and they watched the proceedings with about as much interest as though they were voiding something from the septic vac. They all blamed the parents for River's misfortunes. Fugitives though. Mal couldn't envy them.

The girl was clustered with her new friends, chattering, promising she'd see them again. As if on a signal, she waved and they dispersed after their escort towards the abbey.

"Well look at that," Zoë said with a smile. They watched Kaylee catch Simon's hand, a reassurance. "Guess they're back together, sir?"

"Seems the improbable does happen," the captain agreed, non-committal. "Hard to believe they could forgive and forget after the hurt they caused each other." He prided himself on the absence of whinging in his comments. That almost didn't sound bitter or petulant at all. The boy turned and walked away without so much of a farewell, Kaylee smiling a weak apology over her shoulder. Might not last, but at least they weren't alone. They'd be all right so long as they had each other. Some more than others, he supposed. Not everyone was here with them.

"All's fair in love and war," Zoë quipped. There was a loaded silence, that spoke plainly she had more to say. The kind of say like to get him laughed at. He didn't have to wait long. "Why're you still here?"

He grunted and shifted awkwardly, not liking the direction of the conversation. "Got our buyer on the way, nice toothless fella set up by our black market terrorist friends." He nodded to himself. It was a plausible excuse, he always had work to distract himself. Of course, years in the trenches together gave someone more than enough insight to see right through him. He dismissed her shortly. "Not a good time, Zoë."

"When is?" she asked. "There'll always be something else; the crew, the job. You find your chance at something worthwhile, you take it. You don't kick around while your life flies off to Sihnon without you."

He tried again. "Also, you're pregnant. Got an obligation to you. Shouldn't stress you too much."

"Will be for five more months," she answered. "I can handle it." He looked at her dubiously. He couldn't split his loyalties. "Sir. You're not my husband, and not the father. I don't mind the help if you're offering, but it was my responsibility to see Wash safe, and my responsibility to see my child safe. No one else." There was sorrow in her voice, but also acceptance. At some point in orbit above Ezra, Zoë had forgiven him. Maybe he'd started to forgive himself too. "Go and see her. I'll be right here."

Now he was out of the easy reasons, and all that was left were the ones that hurt. "She don't want to see me."

She continued ruthlessly. "I was able to feel again," Zoë told him. "He could take everything I threw at him, and then settle me down. I took fewer risks because he was waiting for me. He made me calmer, kept my war at bay, showed me that my life still had some worth. I had four years with Wash, and it wasn't near enough." There was all his shadowed past in her expression, all she knew he suffered. "Go on, sir. I've been waiting for you to pull yourself out of the dark hole you've been in for years. You need each other."

He started to drag himself away, up the metal stairs, recalled by the pain in his gut. Who was he fooling? He was too broken for anyone. Mal grimaced, then set his teeth and changed direction, heading for the shuttle. He did have a promise to keep.