------------------------------------------------- A ghost town; nothing but the stench of fires and searing skin. No one accounted responsible, and no one taking the blame; news of the massacre spread quickly, as did the rumors. From one ear to the next, someone began to threaten. Stay away; stay far away.

Months later, on a pit stop, Mal, accompanied by Jayne and Zoe, exited Serenity, guns ready to blaze. Gideon, the once peaceful moon, was the poster for abandonment. The moon famous for producing the richest oil was the preferred rest stop for a ship in need. They get in, get out, as if on a timer; no one ever stayed long enough to find out what happens.

Mal continued moving forward as Jayne and Zoe took to the right and left.

“Clear,” Zoe shouted, putting her gun away.

Jayne kicked a clunk of metal. Nothing but a close-to-dead rat. “Clear, here.”

Subtle movement grabbing his attention, Mal took to the mountain of metal scraps. Months of uncollected garbage, the unnecessary things other ships leave behind, there was something under it. Pushing the scraps and pieces of metal away, Mal saw a hand.

Once he removed all the scraps he found a badgered young woman in a hole in the ground. She wore a tattered, worn-out and dirty jumper; her face had snippets of dry blood, and her exposed skin looked just as beaten as the jumper she wore. Her eyes looked at Mal longing before closing, giving in to whatever pain she felt.

Mal put the gun back in its strap. He jumped into the hole, checking her for a heartbeat. Fortunately she had one, unfortunately it was very faint. He wiped away some of the dirt off her brow with his hand. Under the dirt was someone far too innocent. Even when he saw the symbol of the Alliance on the jumper, Mal moved to help her. Picking her up and taking her out of the hole.

Zoe and Jayne watched Mal carry the young woman into Serenity.

“This is my ship, I’m the Captain, I’ll do whatever I want,” he said before either of them began their twenty-one questions.

------------------------------------------------- Cleaned up and put in one of River’s dresses, the young woman lied asleep in the infirmary with an IV attached to her arm feeding her vitamins. While her vitals remained consistent, she did not wake.

“How she doing?” Mal asked, entering the medic wing.

Simon just finished washing his hands, drying them with a cloth. He turned to the captain, shrugging to answer his question in the general context. “She supposed to be awake by now. Other than being unconscious, she’s perfectly healthy. Her brain activity, however, it’s off the charts. She’s thinking, a lot.”

“Did you get rid of her suit?” Mal asked, arms crossed.

Simon nodded. He walked closer to Mal, his voice down and worry high. “What she was wearing, it’s similar to what an officer wears for the Alliance. She might be a devotee to the Anglo-Sino, and possibly a threat to us when she wakes. How do you know this isn’t a trap?”

Mal sternly glared. “Does that look like an officer?”

They looked at the young woman lying on the bed. She certainly did not appear threatening. “No, she doesn’t,” Simon answered after a lull. Automatically he compared her to River. The brain activity he found after the scans were similar to those of her sister, but they were contained, and had the part that enabled her to conceal her emotions.

Mal exited the infirmary, passing a curious River as she entered.

“River, go to bed,” Simon said walking to her and turning her around as he shut off the light. “It’s late.”

“Me,” River mumbled, looking back. “She’s like me.”

Confused, Simon’s eyes went to his sister as she stared transfixed at the young woman hidden in the shadow.

------------------------------------------------- “Do you have a name?”

Her eyes pried from one object to the next until falling on Mal. He had been there for a while, waiting for her to wake up. Not at all intimidating, she took a deep breath in. “Yes, I have name.”

Mal rose, unscathed by the smart-ass response. “Well, then, aren’t you going to tell me?”

The young woman looked away. “No.”

“You see this medicine, darling, it ain’t free,” Mal threatened. “You got no money on you, you pay us in information. What the hell were you doing on Gideon?”

The young woman sat up, her hand raising to her forehead after a sudden head rush. “That’s none of your business. I don’t have to pay you anything, so drop me off on the next star.”

“You wouldn’t have no problem on a star, now would you? Seeing as you’re part of the Alliance and all.”

The young woman smirked. “How naive are you? I wear something, automatically am part of where it’s from?” She eyed him from top to bottom. “What are you, a space cowboy?”

Mal grinned. “You ain’t part of the Alliance?”

She gave him an obvious look. “My father is an ambassador from Earth; a senator with ties to the Alliance. If you must know, that’s the only crime I’ve committed. Now I’m getting the third degree for trying to escape.”

“Escape, from who?”

She sighed, annoyed. “No one you know.” She looked at what she wore, repelled. “Take me back home, and you will be rewarded. You look like a smuggler. You look like you need cash.”

Insulted, Mal didn’t know how to exactly respond.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she demanded without raising her voice. “I’m not going to rat on you. I’m not well, and I can’t risk not getting a ride and being found. My father will be grateful.”

“Your father is part of the Alliance!”

She rolled her eyes. “He is first and foremost a father. Why would he incriminate the people who saved his daughter? You don’t have to trust me. Trust the greed in your gut. Why would I lie to you? I’m sick, I’m not stupid.”

Mal hated that she was right, not that he’d admit it. “Where exactly is your father?”

“He’s on a base, just outside the galaxy, in the Mort constellation.”

Mal laughed. “Outside the galaxy? Have you lost your mind?”

“Is this ship not able to handle it?”

Mal chuckled out of desperation. “Of course she is.”

She lied back down, unable to garner her strength.

Mal hovered over her. “Now will you tell me your name?”

She sighed. “My name is Helena. Happy now?”

Smiling without much thought as to why, he nodded. “Very.”

------------------------------------------------- Later that night Helena found she couldn’t sleep. She stayed in the infirmary, her back to the door. She heard the footsteps of the crew of the ship and found that not staring directly at them would keep her at bay. When she closed her eyes for a few seconds, she felt the presence of another person. Sitting on a chair beside the bed was the girl she dreamt about.

River stared at Helena, tilting her head sideways. “How does it feel?” River asked with a wry little smile. “Not feeling?”

“What did they do to you?” Helena asked worried, feeling River’s unexpressed pain buried deep in her subconscious.

River closed her fist, looking down. “What they did to you, but they... they, um, they...” River began to cry, her head falling to her knees.

Helena stepped off the bed, and hugged her. "I can help you. It takes days to reach the outer rim, it’s more than enough time to help."

Simon entered the infirmary. "What’s going on?"

Helena, a good few inches taller than River had her nestled in her arms, looked at Simon. "You’re the doctor?"

"Yes."

"I didn’t know she was here," Helena spoke out loud. "Do you know how many people are after her?" She walked with her to Simon. "My father put me in the Academy. I know what they did to her. I can help her."

-----------------------------