The usual disclaimers apply, many thanks to Mutant Enemy for the loan of the characters.

Author's note: Thanks to all those who have been giving me such wonderful feedback (and don't be afraid to critisize - constructively of course!). Amazing how those emails keep popping up just at the moment I need them. It has been a real help over these last few weeks, especially with my computer going phutz and having to struggle to find the time and PC's to continue. Have a shiny 2004 browncoats!

PS: Last paragraph tweaked 2nd Jan (just didn't quite get there before).

Things Fall Apart - Chapter 8

Inara had no idea how long she'd been asleep. Waking up was disorientating, her mind clung to the belief that it had all been a bizarre nightmare and it took several seconds - and quite a lot of willpower - to anchor herself in reality again. She could only imagine the reason she dozed off had something to do with the fact that she'd been awake for two days and scared out of her wits for most of that time. It amazed her how even now, in the middle of a Reaver camp, the needs of the body overcame the fears of the mind. Perhaps there was some lesson to be learned in that.

Wai-Lan slept on, curled up with her head resting in Inara's lap. Inara shifted her weight slightly, trying to get blood flowing where it hadn't for some time. At her movement the Shepherd glanced her way and smiled a little. "Mal?" She asked quietly, hoping he would know something new, but he shook his head. "I'm sorry, they won't say anything. They did bring us some water though." Book gestured with his good arm towards a pitcher that had been placed at their feet. His eyes strayed to the sleeping child, and he cautiously leant over to pick up the pitcher and pass it to Inara. She took it gratefully, noting his involuntary grimace of pain. "How is your arm?" She asked. "Oh, it's not as bad as it looks." He held it up for inspection. "The bleeding has stopped. I am going to have an impressive scar, unless River's brother can work his magic." But Inara could see the sweat on the Shepherd's brow and the slight tremor in his hand. "The pain is bad," she stated. He met her eyes, his carefully controlled expression relaxing a little. "The pain is bad," he agreed. "I may be able to help," Inara offered. "I have learnt some techniques in acupressure, and some breathing and meditation exercises." "That would be appreciated." Book smiled briefly. "What about yourself?" "What about me?" She asked, wondering whether to wake Wai-Lan for a drink of water. "How are you coping with all that has happened? With all this?" Book's gesture took in the ballroom, the Reavers, the other prisoners. "Does your training prepare you for this?"

Inara's eyebrows rose. "No-one's training prepares them for this, Shepherd. You said as much yourself. I suppose I am as well as can be expected," she studied the sleeping child. "Truth be told, she has been my strength. She has so much courage, and so much faith. I am terrified that I will fail her." "Take your lesson from the child, Inara," Book said gently. "There is no success or failure here, there is only faith. Our fate is not ours to command, nor is anyone else's. Leave that in the hands of whatever it is that you call God." She looked at him, her expression grim. "I'm sorry Shepherd, but in a situation like this I am more inclined to believe that there is nothing up there watching over us, over women and children like these," she nodded towards the other captives. "This is not the hand of God, or fate, or destiny, or whatever else you may care to call it. This is the hand of man." There was a commotion at the far end of the room and they both looked around. The Reaver commander - the old soldier who had fought with Mal - was stalking across the room, swearing in three different languages. He was followed by several of his men. The old soldier snapped something, and his men ran ahead, grabbing Inara and dragging her to her feet. Wai-Lan was woken roughly and began screaming. Book tried to hold onto her as well as Inara, but was kicked and punched aside. Wai-Lan hurled herself forward, snatching hold of Inara's dress. One of the Reavers picked the child up and flung her back. The child's head thumped against the wall and she fell down, dazed. Inara cried out and struggled to get to her, but the old soldier stepped forward and grabbed Inara's hair, forcing her to look at him. "You will stop or the child dies." Instantly Inara was still. The old soldiers lip curled and he spat to one side, letting her go. "Julle's als dieselfde, mak, swak, en vol kak. I haven't one good gorrammed idea what he wants with any of you."

He turned on his heal and marched back across the ballroom. "Look after her!" Inara shouted back over her shoulder as she was dragged away. "With my life!" The Shephrd assured her, turning to Wai-Lan. The child was conscious and didn't appear too badly hurt. She wailed and tried to scramble to her feet to follow after Inara, but Book held her back. "Wai-Lan, calm down meili. Stay with me and we'll wait for her here, dong ma?" She gulped back sobs and looked up at him doubtfully. "She's coming back?" "Just as soon as she can," Book replied, praying that he wasn't lying to the child. "She'll be back and we'll get to go to Serenity and see your brother. You want that, don't you?" Wai-Lan frowned and wiped her eyes. "What's Serenity?" Book breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed his hold on her a little bit. "What's Serenity? Well now, that's a story for you! I'd better start at the beginning."

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Inara was marched quickly across the hall and through the door into a corridor heavily guarded by men who looked at her with cold, speculative eyes and commented to each other as she was taken past them. As they reached the end of the corridor one of the bigger men said casually, in a heavy accent, "Don't need no prophet, I can tell you what's in your future meisiekind." There was laughter from the others, including those holding her. Inara kept her head high and her face expressionless. There was no point in anything else.

She was taken through a pair of swing doors leading into an auditorium. Inara had only a moment's confused impression of plush carpet, velvet drapes and dark wood before her attention was snatched by the scene taking place on the stage.

River was kneeling, rocking backwards and forwards with her head in her hands. There was a boy sprawled awkwardly next to her, being held in the grip of the tall Reaver leader, the ex-soldier that Book had sent to spy on the Reavers more than a decade previously. Despite his size and obvious strength the man was having trouble holding on to the boy, who's body was spasming violently. A few feet away from them three more Reavers struggled to hold on to Mal.

Inara's first thought was utter relief to see Mal alive again. Her second was a confused mix of fear and annoyance, because the way he was behaving could get him killed at any moment. He was shouting and gesturing violently, struggling to pull free of the men who held him. As Inara was taken closer she noticed that he was sweating heavily and staggering, and he stared right through her as though he didn't even see her. In fact he seemed completely unaware of anyone around him. What he was saying made sense, although it had nothing to do with what was going on. Bewildered, Inara wondered if he was drunk.

Suddenly Mal shouted a warning and threw himself forward. At the same moment River screamed and flung herself flat on the ground, and the boy's body jerked so hard that Inara could hear the crack of bone where his head hit the chin of the man holding him. The old soldier who had fetched Inara broke into a run, leapt up on stage and helped the three Reavers holding Mal to wrestle him to the floor. The Reaver leader spat a mouthful of blood to one side and snarled, "Dis nou genoeg, moor hom!" The old soldier pulled out a gun, cocked it and put it to Mal's head.

Both River and Inara screamed "No!" at the same time. The old soldier shot River a glance, grimaced and turned to his leader in silent query. At the same time the men holding Inara abruptly let her go, looking from River to her with what seemed like fear. Utterly confused by their reaction but not about to let that stop her, Inara shoved the Reavers aside and ran towards the stage. "Don't kill him!" River had scrambled to her knees and reached towards Mal, although she couldn't seem to bring herself to go any closer to him. "Jy kannie hom beheer nie!" The Reaver leader growled, obviously struggling to keep from shouting at her. River's face was pale and drawn with pain, but her jaw was set stubbornly. "You promised! It isn't his fault!" Halfway across the stage, Inara hesitated and her gaze shot to River in accusation. "What have you done to him?"

Mal suddenly cried out in despair and slumped to the floor. River gasped and relaxed, closing her eyes in relief. The boy in the Reaver leader's arms cried out in a voice uncannily similar to Mal's, and his body abruptly stopped its spasms. Inara spared him a brief, disconcerted look, then ran over to Mal and knelt down. The Reavers pulled back a little, glancing between her, River and their leader uncertainly. Inara put a hand to Mal's forehead. The skin was hot and clammy. "He's got a fever. How did this happen? What did you do to him?" She demanded of River again.

River opened her eyes at the question, blinking as though struggling to focus. "Results are inconclusive," she stammered. "It could have been a pre-existing sensitivity to the drug, which I could not have predicted, or perhaps a combination of stress factors and mental state. I was basing the dosage on bodyweight and metabolism, but I may have allowed the urgency of the situation to influence my calculations. Caution is advised where there is a lack of medical history." "You drugged him?" Inara stared at her, horrified. "What for? What did you give him, River?" The girl gestured helplessly, tears welling from her eyes. "It's just a dream. He should've woken up by now. I couldn't find the way out. There wasn't a way out. How was I supposed to know that?"

She broke off as Mal suddenly twitched and murmured something. Inara lent down. His eyes were open but unfocussed, and he was completely unaware of her. She pressed light fingers beneath his jaw, feeling the racing pulse and her own steadily rising anger at this sudden bizarre twist, the mercurial infliction of suffering for reasons utterly beyond her understanding. Inara looked up, her eyes dark and cold. "Use that genius brain of yours, River. Do you think you have the cornerstone on suffering? Do you think you're the only one who has to fight for a hold on sanity? You've seen him walking Serenity night after night, trying to keep from sleeping because the minute he does he'll be back there, in his own private hell. What possible purpose can it serve to make him go through that again?" Her eyes narrowed. "I'd have thought you'd have had enough of torture by now."

River burst into tears. Inara turned away and found that her hands were shaking. "Give him to me," she said to the old soldier, who's gun was still drawn. "I'll look after him." "He's mal," the Reaver sneered at her, enjoying the play on words. "Be a danger to everyone around him in this state. Best put him out of his misery." "No!" River sobbed, turning to the Reaver leader. To Inara's surprise it wasn't the Reaver she appealed to but the boy in his arms. "This isn't right, this isn't how it is supposed to be."

The boy stared back at her, lying sprawled in the big Reaver's embrace. "We do not have the antidote, and it could take hours for the drug to wear off. We must proceed with the second subject. Neither you nor I have the strength to navigate two minds at once." Inara looked from River to the boy in amazement. The words were slurred, but once she had worked out the impediment it was possible to understand him. She examined the boy more closely, suddenly wondering what his role here could be.

River had become still. The look that went between her and the boy was uncommonly direct as she said, "There are more reasons for this journey than the answers you seek. There are more travelers on the road than you and yours. The moment has not passed, the decision has not been made. There is still time." She turned to Inara, her tear-streaked face oddly intent. "I have a debt to pay, and promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. This is my fault," she paused, a spasm of pain crossing her face. "I led him back there and I lost him. But he will follow you, I know he will." Her eyes suddenly filled with hope. "Please help. I haven't the skill to fix him, and without him we are broken."

Unable to maintain her anger in the face of River's childlike distress and wanting Mal out of this mad and dangerous place, Inara nodded. "I'll do what I can," she said wearily. Then she saw the boy and the Reaver leader watching her and added with determination, "I'll keep him from disturbing you, I promise." There was no doubt in her mind that Mal's life depended on it. The old soldier's hand was clenched on his gun and he looked at his leader. Some understanding passed between them and the old soldier abruptly stood up. "You got your chance. Get him up." They hoisted Mal to his feet, where he stood swaying and staring blankly into space. River took a half step towards them, stopping when Inara looked at her. "Give him some water, and make sure the lights are kept low," she said earnestly. Inara didn't answer and turned to follow the Reavers as they led Mal into the wings.

"You are wasting your time with him," the boy told River as the Reaver leader helped him back into his wheelchair. "You know that he's broken inside." "Broken things can be fixed," River said, staring mournfully after Mal and Inara. "Not all things. Not you and I, for example," the boy said. When River turned sad eyes on him he met her gaze with gentle pragmatism. "I know you don't want to believe that, but you must know the truth of it by now. What was taken from us cannot be replaced. Our wounds are physical, but his are no less deep for all that."

River looked down, twisting her hands together. "My brother doesn't believe that," she retorted, then in a quieter voice, "Sometimes putting broken pieces together can make things work, even if the pieces didn't come from the same place." The boy's smile humoured her determined hope in the face of the evidence. "Yes, that is true. I suppose there is a certain irony to the fact that together we can do the thing that they broke us to achieve. Their most promising pupil and the piece of scrap they threw on the garbage, thinking there was no more use for me." The Reaver leader, who had been listening in silence, grinned like a wolf. "Ain't it amazin' what you can find when you go trawlin' through rich-folks' garbage?" Then his expression grew cold. "Time you worked your magic again, prophet. There's a few questions I've been meanin' to ask this next one, an' I been waitin' a gorramned long time for the answers."

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The Reavers took Mal down a narrow passageway behind the stage and shoved him and Inara into a room that looked as though it had been used for storage. The old soldier stood at the door and looked them over contemptuously. "He gets violent, he's dead," he told Inara, watching Mal as he stood staring vacantly into the middle distance. "Get out!" Inara snapped, suddenly loosing her temper. The old soldier looked her up and down. "I'll be waitin'," he said, resting his hand on his gun. Inara stared at him in silence until he closed the door behind him.

Immediately they were alone she turned to Mal. "Gu zao de! What have they done to you?" The way he stared right through her made her shiver. "They'll come tomorrow. They gotta come tomorrow," he murmured, suddenly pushing her aside and taking a couple of steps forward, straight into a stack of chairs. They went crashing to the floor and Mal looked around wildly. Inara glanced nervously at the closed door and grabbed hold of one arm to steer him away. "They bombing again?" He asked. "No Mal, it was just an accident." She stopped him and examined his face. He was looking around, searching for something. "What are you seeing?" He frowned. "Nothin'. Not a damned thing. Where'n gorramed hell are they?" "Where are who?" "The Alliance! We surrendered already! Don't they know what's goin' on down here? We need water, medics, blankets. Gorrammit, ain't no-one got the strength t' pull a trigger anyways!" "Oh Mal..." Inara closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them she was horrified to see tears on his face. "Chuseng xai-jiao de xiang huo!" He swung one arm in a sweeping blow that connected with Inara's face and flung her backwards. She went crashing into the chairs and fell awkwardly. Mal was oblivious, swearing and lashing out, his blows meeting the walls, a cabinet, empty air. Inara cowered, trying to keep out of his way. The door burst open and the Reavers came storming back in, guns drawn.

"No!" Inara struggled to her feet and tried to get between them, but she was all tangled up in the chairs. Mal had mercifully stopped swinging when the door opened and turned to stare at the Reavers, barely concerned to find three guns leveled at his chest. "Didn't think no-one had any ammo left," he commented in surprise. Then he saw the old soldier and his eyes narrowed. "Bates? Wu den ma, I thought you were dead! Good to see someone made it off that gorramned hill. How'd you do it? Alliance had us pinned down for three days before we ran outta ammo and had to retreat. Didn't think they left anyone alive up there."

The old soldier stared at Mal, mouth working as though he was chewing something bitter. There was a silence that could've been cut with a knife. Mal looked between them and then seemed to come to some realization. He held up his hands slowly. "Hey, if you guys were hopin' to find some rations I'm afraid I can't help you there. Ain't had a bite to eat in three days myself." The old soldier shook his head. "Mal," he muttered, but he lowered his weapon. He glared at Inara. "You keep him quiet. Don't care how you do it, but we got orders that he ain't to disturb the prophet and the witch girl. Verstaan?" She nodded. "Uit," he said to his men. They left, closing the door again behind them.

Inara's knees gave in and she sagged onto a chair that had somehow ended up upright, forcing herself to take deep breaths to slow her heartbeat. Mal looked at her in confusion. "Do you have any idea what's going on?" He asked her. Inara didn't dare to laugh in case she burst into tears. "No. I have no idea at all." "Makes for two of us," Mal commented, staring at the closed door. Then his expression grew doubtful, and he studied her. "What are you doing here? Am I dreaming?" She returned his look, seeing how he had planted his feet like a man afraid he would fall, how his shoulders slumped and his face was pale with exhaustion. She answered carefully. "Yes. They drugged you and now you're dreaming about Serenity Valley, but the war ended years ago. It's over, Mal." The pain and confusion in his eyes hurt her. He shook his head, rubbing a hand across his face. "Diyu, lehai le," he muttered. She stood, put a hand on his arm. "Sleep. You're safe for now. I'll be here." He nodded, sighed, put his back against the wall and slid down onto the floor, closing his eyes. "Jus' a few minutes," he murmured. "Gotta keep an eye out for them medics." Inara flinched but said nothing, waiting until he was asleep before she let herself cry.

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When they came for the Shepherd, Wai-Lan clung to him in terror. "Please don't leave me! Please don't leave!" Book took hold of her hands, prying them from his shirt. "Xiao meimei, it's alright. You must stay here with these people." He looked at the other women prisoners, but they all avoided his eyes. "Will you look after her? Please?" he asked. The woman sitting nearest to him glanced his way in horror and shook her head. "No! I can't!" "Just keep her with you while I'm gone," he said gently. "That's all I ask." She shook her head again and turned away, clutching at the blank-eyed child in her arms.

A young girl sitting next to them studied the preacher without expression and then said to Wai-Lan, "Come here." Wai-Lan stared at her, leaning back against the Shepherd. "Go to her," he said, glancing over his shoulder to the advancing Reavers. "Quickly now. What's your name, girl?" "Annabelle," the older girl replied and held out a hand to Wai-Lan. "Come." Wai-Lan looked doubtfully up at the Shepherd, and reluctantly crawled over. The older woman watched fearfully, rocking her child.

Annabelle took Wai-Lan's hand and pulled her back against the wall. They watched as the Reavers dragged the preacher to his feet and marched him across the hall. Wai-Lan began to sob, and Annabelle squeezed her hand. "Shut up," she whispered. Wai-Lan kept crying. One of the Reaver guards looked at her in irritation and the woman with the blank-eyed child quickly moved away. Annabelle's grip on Wai-Lan's hand tightened until she whimpered and tried to pull away. "Shut up!" Annabelle hissed. "If you don't shut up they're going to kill you." Wai-Lan gulped and stared at her with shocked eyes. "They kill little girls who cry," Annabelle told her, nails digging into Wai-Lan's skin. "You want to live, you keep quiet, you do what they want. Whatever they want," she repeated through gritted teeth. "You don't, you're dead. Dong ma?"

Wai-Lan nodded, looked up at the Reaver guards fearfully and wiped the tears from her face. When none of them paid her any more attention, she rested her chin on her knees and turned her attention to the door at the far end of the hall. She wasn't stupid, Wai-Lan knew that those who had gone through that doorway were most likely dead. Grown-ups sometimes thought children were too dumb to figure things out, but she would really have had to be stupid not to have looked around her and drawn a few conclusions about the likelihood of living much longer. What she wanted to know was whether what lay beyond that door was the road to heaven or the road to hell. She had heard about people seeing a tunnel of light when they died, and the glimpses she'd caught through the doorway had born that out. It was a thought that both fascinated and terrified her, and she had a few thoughts about purgatory too. Wai-Lan had asked the preacher lots of questions, but he hadn't been able to answer all of them to her satisfaction. The next time the door opened and the demons came out, Wai-Lan would be watching.

Glossary:

Chinese Gu zao de! - This can't get any worse! Wu de ma - Mother of God Chuseng xai-jiao de xiang huo! - Animal fuckers! Diyu, lehai le - Hell, I'm exhausted

Afrikaans

Julle's als dieselfde, mak, swak en vol kak - You're all the same, tame, weak and full of shit. Meisikind - girlchild Dis nou genoeg, moor hom! - That's enough now, kill him! Jy kannie hom beheer nie! - You can't control him! Mal - mad