Captain Doctor By KMS kmspider@aol.com http://hometown.aol.com/kmspider/myhomepage/index.html

Summary: AU—instead of losing the Battle of Serenity, the Independents won, extending the course of the war. Takes place around the same time as the series, six years after the First Battle of Serenity on Hera.

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* * * * * * * Chapter 3 * * * * * * *

Hera:

Zoe had to admit, she’d been surprised by the young doctor. Sure, she’d heard rumors, rumors were the lifeblood of every army, but it wasn’t every day that the rumors were so truthsome. It was a well known secret among the rebels that anyone who came under the care of Doctor Tam received the same level of competent healthcare, regardless. The boy had proved his worth, despite his Alliance background and Core affiliations. And turned out to be an honorable man, more interested in the health of his patients than in the cut of their uniforms. More than a little surprising, all in all.

Nice to see that both sides could produce good men. It bode well for the future. And with any luck, the brevity of their time left on this hellhole.

Zoe looked around at the men sleeping under her protection. Her sergeant, with whom she had gone through just about everything together. Friends, comrades, brothers under the skin. Everything but lovers. For that she patted the man on her other side, shifting a little so that Wash shifted in turn, and his soft snore disappeared. She smiled fondly at her husband, having never expected to discover such a glowing spirit during the long years of war. But one shore leave on Boros, and there he was, telling her stories of flying, and making her chuckle aloud when she’d come to believe that her laughter had been mortally wounded on the battlefield.

Not many knew it, but Wash had been instrumental in those last days when they had fought the first Battle of Serenity Valley.

Taking everything on faith, he had followed orders that she had passed on to him herself, and had helped turn the tide of the battle. For his efforts, his ship had been shot down and Wash had been stranded on the other side of the ever-shifting enemy lines.

She remembered giving Mal a hard look that day, one that said, ‘don’t make me choose’, and they had gathered a small crew together, consisting of Mal, Monty, Hendricks (replacing Bendis, who caught a bullet when the ships were landing) and herself. Jayne had long since replaced Hendricks whom they lost to sniper fire. Together they had raided the other side and in the confusion, rescued her future husband. Wash had only managed to break his wrist, of all things.

She’d taken him to her bed that day, and had married him the next.

Zoe looked down at the sleeping young doctor who had just saved over a dozen lives, including Mal’s, and smiled.

Looked like they had themselves a new honorary member of Mal’s Browncoat Renegades.

* * * * * * *

Commander Early had sent his spies into the makeshift hospital earlier that morning, but had been run off by Monty. Another of Reynolds’ lap dogs.

That was alright with Early. Their infiltrator had been there just long enough to catch a glimpse of Reynolds’ pet doctor.

Eventually the doctor would be moved and outside Reynolds’ protective bubble. He’d make his grab then and just see what the Alliance was up to this week.

* * * * * * *

Alliance Facility, Location Unknown:

For a moment she wondered if she hadn’t made a grave error. One that would cost her brother his life.

She looked down at the pencil clutched in her hand and fiercely began scribbling on a new sheet of paper.

Too many variables. The rooks were acting like bishops. Another pawn trampled underfoot. No. No.

She’d have to redo the math, make it work. Send in a Knight. The game called on account of rain. Meteorological input. Yes. That would work.

Another note was passed along to the blue hands.

* * * * * * *

Hera:

It was raining when he awoke. Raining hard.

The canvas roof overhead only managed to protect them from direct hits of the sharp, stinging drops. All around them, rivulets ran down into the manmade trenches. The blanket that Simon had fallen asleep on was soaked, and so was he. His own shivering had woken him up.

Simon sat up, rubbing his eyes with curled fists, blinking in bewilderment for a moment until his adventures from last night came back to him in a rush.

He looked over at the man whom he had been kidnapped to help. His color was better and they’d managed to find some boards to slip under his bedding, raising him up out of the rainwater and mud. Reaching out a hand, he took his pulse, counted his breaths, and felt for a temperature. The man was doing better than he had any right to under these circumstances.

The woman, Zoe, and Wash, had gone, but another squad member, Tracy, sat on the other side of the patient, digging into a can of beans. Catching sight of Simon, he lifted his spoon in greeting, then kept right on eating, his rifle tucked within easy reach between his knees. Curiously, Tracy had the newest boots that Simon had seen since he had been on Hera. Simon tugged the semi-wet blanket that had been thrown over him tighter around his shoulders.

It was eerily quiet. Rain generally dampened sound, but the shelling and exchange of gunfire had stopped as well. Water landing on canvas and the moans of hurting men were the only muted noises. The temperature had dropped, along with the rain, and someone had attempted to make a fire in the middle of the makeshift hospital. It put out more smoke than heat.

Maybe someone had convinced the generals that it was just too damn wet for war.

Simon tiredly rubbed his face and looked down at his filthy scrubs, wondering if he could manage to get a change of clothes from somewhere. A sneeze caught him by surprise, and he could feel that he was starting to catch a cold, throat scratchy, building pressure behind his eyes making him squeeze them shut. Considering his run-down condition, and the chilly weather, not entirely unexpected.

“How long have I been asleep?” Simon asked Tracy. Tracy managed to raised four fingers of the hand clutching his spoon in response, mouth too full to answer with words. There was something unsettling in Tracy’s eyes when he looked at Simon.

Turning away, and getting to his feet, Simon tried to brush as much dirt off himself as he could, then pulled his blanket tight around him again.

“Where ya going, Doc?” said a voice from behind him.

Simon turned to find Jayne approaching. Simon shrugged.

“Could do with a latrine. And clean clothes. And something to eat, for that matter.” Something about him seemed to amuse Jayne to no end. He always seemed to be grinning at him.

“Before we get to that, got a question to ask ya,” Jayne said, tugging on his elbow and dragging him back into the curtained off operating room.

“What is it?” Simon shifted from foot to foot, trying to restore circulation to his feet.

Jayne began to tug at his belt, “Got me a little problem with my pecker, Doc.”

“Whoa!” Simon blinked at him. “No need to show me. Is it green?”

Jayne pulled his pants away from his waist, tenting them forward so he could peer down. “Naw, my pecker’s still its natural purty color.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “I mean,” he said with great patience, “Is the discharge green?”

“Oh, yeah. Pretty nasty looking.”

Simon had seen a hundred cases if he had seen one. He turned and rummaged around among the salvaged medicines. “You’ve got the clap. Did they manage to save any penicillin?”

“Gorram woman said she was a virgin. Seemed a might too frisky for a first timer.”

Simon had to chuckle despite himself at the put-upon disgust in Jayne’s voice. He found a bottle and a syringe, and filled it with the correct dosage for a man of Jayne’s size. “Any allergies?”

“Nope.”

Turning back, he pointed to the operating table. “Bend over and drop your drawers. Just a hip, I won’t need any more than that.”

Jayne did so and Simon gave him the shot.

“Yeouch!”

“You can pull them up now,” Simon said, turning away, and disposing of the needle.

He turned back, and Jayne was buckling his belt.

“You might consider wearing a condom in the future,” Simon instructed him.

“Ah, hell, Doc, we can barely get fresh water out here, where the hell am I gonna pick up condoms?”

Simon looked back at the meager supplies, turning back with a helpless shrug.

“Come on, Doc,” Jayne said, slinging one arm over Simon’s shoulders, the extra burden almost staggering the young doctor. “Let’s go to the mess and get us something ta eat. Latrine’s on the way.”

“That’d be great.” Simon looked down at himself. “I could use a change of clothes, too, if it’s available.”

“We’ll have to talk to the quartermaster about that. Though I doubt that little weasel, Badger, will give away anything without a trade.”

“Maybe you could ask him about condoms.”

Jayne grinned and released him, heading out of the tent.

Simon pulled the blanket over his head, using it as a shield against the rain. They were halfway there, sloughing knee deep in mud, when a group of soldiers stepped in front of them, rifles raised in their direction.

Simon slid to a halt, boots slipping in the muck, raising his hands further in the air, but not releasing the protection of the blanket.

“We’ll take him from here, Cobb,” one of the men, half his face covered in an elaborate tattoo, growled at Jayne.

“What ya all talking about, Crow. Zoe told me to get the Doc fed up before we take him back.”

“Ain’t goin’ back.”

Simon could feel the blood drain out of his face, and his stomach did a summersault.

“What?” Jayne slung his rifle forward. “Doc done right by us, Crow. Fixed the Sarge real good.”

Four rifles cocked loudly, all pointing in their direction. Simon sneezed, then shrank away from the sudden attention it brought him.

“And he’s been here long enough to report back to them what’s tryin’ to kill us.”

“He came in at night, then operated all day, then fell asleep. What the hell’s he gonna tell ‘em? How many sheep he counted?”

“Got my orders, Cobb. Commander Early wants him taken to the Vaults.” Crow nodded to his men.

Jayne stepped between Crow and Simon. “That crazy bastard don’t give a goushi about us. Doc here operated on over a dozen people last night. All ours, hurt and dying.”

Someone behind Simon knocked the back of his knees with a rifle and Simon grunted and fell onto his knees, now hip deep in cold, slimy muck. The blanket was taken from his hands and flung away into the mud. The chilling rain soaked him in seconds.

“Hands on your head, boy,” someone behind him ordered.

Simon did as he was told, stinging raindrops blinding him.

“Sarge won’t like this at all, Crow.”

“He can take it up with the Commander. Let them fight it out. We’ll take good care of the pretty boy.”

A rifle butt nudged him in the back, and Simon shivered uncontrollably in the mud, glancing at Jayne’s face as the big man stepped away. The mercenary looked troubled, but made no more objections on his behalf.

Simon was hauled to his feet; arms bound by ropes behind his back, and lead away, now a prisoner of war.

* * * * * * * end of Chapter 3 * * * * * * *