“Where am I?” a very soft an weak voice said, pulling Simon away from the medical encyclopedia, which he’d been poring over for the past two hours. The young doctor turned to see Evangeline, pail and slightly trembling, trying to push herself into a sitting position. “No don’t,” Simon said quickly, stumbling a little as he hurried to attend the young girl. “Don’t try and get up. Just lie there.” “Who are you?” The girl demanded, obviously upset as she disobeyed his orders and forced herself into a sitting position. “This isn’t home. Are you a kidnapper?” “No, you’re on a ship, I’m a doctor. Didn’t your family tell you that you’d be going on a trip?” “A trip?” the girl asked, calming just a little. “Mama said we were leaving.” “Well you’ve, ah, you’ve left.” “You’re a doctor?” the girl asked, somewhat suspiciously. “Yes I am,” Simon said, daring to take a step closer to the beautiful little girl. She reminded him of the porcelain dolls River had collected as a little girl. There was almost no pigment in her skin, her lips had a slightly purplish tint, her flaxen hair was a mess of perfect ringlet curls and her eyes were a hauntingly deep blue. Small and thin for a thirteen-year-old, she looked fragile and every time she moved Simon couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she would shatter. “I’m going to be taking care of you for the next few days, until we reach New Dallas.” “What kind of doctor?” the girl asked. She was clearly unimpressed by him and his infirmary. “I guess I’m more or less a general practitioner,” Simon said after a moment of hesitation. “You don’t know?” Evangeline asked. “I was a surgeon, until I joined the crew of Serenity.” “The crew of what?” “Oh, this ship, her name’s Serenity.” “Is she serene?” Simon smiled softly, “Not usually.” “It’s a dumb name.” The doctor felt oddly offended by the girl’s observation. He’d had similar thoughts regarding the ship’s name in the past but Serenity was slowly becoming home, and her crew family. He didn’t really feel passionate enough to defend the Firefly, but on the other hand, he didn’t like hearing a word against her. “What would you name a ship, if you had one?” Simon asked. “Are you trying to be my friend?” Evangeline asked suspiciously. Simon wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I’m trying to make you comfortable. If that, to you, implies friendship, then, yes: I’m trying to be your friend.” “But you won’t make me better,” the girl said with a note of finality. “Probably not,” Simon said sadly. “I’m not even sure what’s wrong with you.” “I’m sick,” the girl said. “I’ve always been sick.” “Does your sickness have a name?” “I don’t know,” the girl said snappishly. “You’re the doctor.” Simon starred at her, dumbfounded for a second, before he was rescued by Kaylee breezing into the infirmary “Yer up, Doc,” Kaylee said, her voice was not nearly as chipper or playful as it usually was. “I’m up?” Simon asked cautiously, turning away from the fragile little girl towards the far sturdier young woman. “What exactly . . .” “Doctor Tambarino,” Mrs. Kubat said. She entered the room like one would enter a grand ball, head held high, chest out, expecting a soft gasp from the starring crowed at the splendor of her appearance. Kaylee, who was just smiling at Simon the way she always smiled when she was half furious, half amused at a situation, didn’t gasp. Simon, who knew his fear of Mrs. Kubat was largely unfounded, but feared her anyways, didn’t gasp, but he did stare. Evangeline smiled and seemed to brighten up, as much as her complexion would allow, at the sight of her mother. “Mama,” the girl said joyfully. “How is my daughter?” Mrs. Kubat asked, clearly talking to Dr. Tam. Evangeline’s smile disappeared. “I honestly don’t know,” Simon said, noticing the young girl’s reaction. “Why don’t you ask her?” “She’s only a child,” the woman said. “You are a doctor.” “She has a larger basis of comparison to work with,” Simon said. “I’ve only been observing her for a matter of hours. She knows how she feels now, and how she’s felt in the past. At this point she’s far more qualified to give you an answer.” “So she’s conscious?” “You can clearly see she is,” Simon said with an unusual tension in his voice. “Does she have an appetite?” “I don’t know,” Simon said with a frustrated sigh. He turned to the girl, “Evangeline, are you hungry?” “Do you have soup?” the little girl asked, clearly thrilled that she was being given attention. “Sure,” forgotten Kaylee said, stepping away from her place by the door. “We got soup. Tomato and Chicken broth wi’ Stars.” “She doesn’t need soup,” Mrs. Kubat said, her voice low and threatening. “Her dinner is prepared.” “Oh, it ain’t no trouble,” Kaylee said. “I’s not every day ya get ta go up in a ship, might as well make it special.” “Mama, please, can I have tomato soup?” the little girl practically begged. “It’s nothing but red powder and hot water,” Mrs. Kubat snapped. “Than it couldn’t possibly do any harm,” Simon said simply. Mrs. Kubat shot the young doctor a spiteful look, Simon felt cold all over, but didn’t back down. “Kaylee,” he said, turning to the young mechanic. Seeing her smile warmed him back up. “Why don’t you go make Evangeline a cup of tomato soup?” “Right away doctor,” Kaylee said, giving him a smile that made him feel like he was a sort of hero, defender of sick little girls. Unfortunately, that feeling dissipated as soon Kaylee left the room and he was alone with the icy Mrs. Kubat. “You shouldn’t have done that,” the woman said with cold fury. “I am her mother.” “And I’m her doctor,” Simon insisted, calmly but firmly. “And as far as I’ve seen there’s no medical reason Evangeline can’t have a cup of soup.” “Evangeline is under a very strict diet,” Mrs. Kubat said, scanning the infirmary obviously looking for something. “Your cook was bringing down Evangeline’s dinner.” “Kaylee’s actually the mechanic,” Simon said. “If your daughter had a special diet I really should have been notified of it much earlier.” “What does it matter?” Mrs. Kubat asked. “Her diet’s no concern.” “Yes it is,” Simon said. “Her diet is extremely important.” “Oh here it is, Evangeline, dear,” Mrs. Kubat said, walking over to the counter near where Kaylee had been standing and picking up a bowl with a cloth over it. “Ready for dinner?” “Can’t I just have soup?” the girl pleaded. “If you finish this you can,” the lady said, slipping the cloth off the bowl and exposing the girls dinner. It was nothing but a white mush that smelled slightly like a fish market. Simon was hard pressed to think of a less appetizing meal and felt, with a fair amount of certainty, that the poor girl would not be able to eat all of the pasty meal. “Mrs. Kubat,” Simon said firmly. “I feel that Evangeline should be allowed to drink her soup regardless of whether or not she finishes that,” he looked at it and his stomach turned, “meal.” “You are not her mother.” “I am her doctor,” Simon insisted. “Unless you can give me a sound medical reason for her to eat that and not the soup than I’m going to have to insist . . .” “You are an insolent young man!” “Your daughter needs to eat,” Simon insisted. “No one has given me any clue as to what is wrong with her and, quite frankly, her symptoms match those of malnutrition.” There was a loud crack. Simon staggered and stars danced before his eyes as his hand flew up to his cheek. She’d slapped him. The very idea was almost as shocking as the hit had been. “Wha’s goin’ on?” Kaylee asked, stepping cautiously into the infirmary. “Get out,” Mrs. Kubat said, her voice sharp and hard. “No,” Simon said. “You’re going to get out Mrs. Kubat.” “Why you . . .” she gasped, her face was becoming red and there was a slight tension and trembling in her body. “Please, Mrs. Kubat,” Simon said. “Don’t make me call Jayne.” “He wouldn’t . . .” “Aw, Jayne would,” Kaylee said, stepping further in and walking towards Simon. She had a stemming mug in her hand that smelled more or less tomato-y. “An’ he’d probably really like ta, truth be told.” “I was under the impression that this ship was at least somewhat civilized,” Mrs. Kubat said, clearly setting up an insult. “What gave ya that idea?” Kaylee asked with a decidedly uncivilized snort. “Please,” Simon, ever the bastion of civilization, said. “I want to help your daughter and I don’t feel I can do that with you here.” “You will regret this,” the woman said with a hushed fury. “Evangeline won’t,” Simon said, following her to the door and closing it behind the woman in a gesture of finality. Of course, he knew he’d have to go out there, and soon. There was the matter of his dinner, not to mention Kaylee’s, and since there had been fewer children than implied, he didn’t need to sleep in the infirmary, so he’d have to go out if he wanted to go to bed. Come to think of it, he’d have to go out if he wanted to go to the bathroom. “That was a very foolish thing to do,” he muttered to himself. “It was brave,” Kaylee asserted. “What just happened?” asked the little girl, who in all practicality had been forgotten. “You get ta have soup for dinner,” Kaylee said, handing the girl the cup of steaming red broth. “If ya like I kin go up stairs ‘gain an’ fetch some crackers.” “Could you?” Evangeline asked with such gratefulness and excitement in her voice that Simon couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken. And he could tell from the small tremor of sadness Kaylee’s voice, when she said “Sure, no problem at all,” that the mechanic felt exactly the same way. * * * River was praying in the great temple. All around her the city was burning, she could taste the smoke. But here she was safe. Athena would protect her. True, Athena had been on the side of the Greeks, the devious, murderous, Greeks who had been hiding in that horse. Why had no one seen it, why had no one believed her? This was her fault, River knew. If she’d only found a way to love Apollo than this whole catastrophe would have been avoided, she would not have been cursed, people would have headed her many, many warnings. Her hands trembled as she prayed, prayed as fervently as she ever had before. She knew her prayers were falling on deaf ears, but she had to pray, she had nothing left. That’s when he came in. She felt him first; there was a prickling feeling as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and a chill rushed over her limbs. She knew he was coming, what he would do, even before he flung open the doors to the most sacred place and his cruel laugh echoed off the pillars and ceiling of the temple, she knew. She kept praying. Her city may have been abandoned by the goddess Athena, but surely she would not be. When his thick arms warped their way around her waist and pulled her from her position of supplication, she reached out and grabbed the only thing she could: the sacred image of Athena. As he dragged her, his blue hands bruising her soft flesh, his vulgar words overpowering her cries and pleas, she did not let go of the sacred image. Even as he bound her, tying the ropes as tightly as he could, reveling in the fallen weakness of the great prophetess of Troy, River held on to the image of Athena. She could not let go of the only hope she had, she could not let the evil go unseen by the Goddess of Wisdom. Maybe her cries had gone unheard but no one could remove a sacred image from a temple unnoticed. The goddess would see this, she would bring down her wrath and her vengeance on the blue handed Ajax and his death would be a horrible one indeed. Through the pain of the night River tried to remember this, she tried to revel in it. But there was just so much pain. * * * The scream woke everyone up. It was the sound of pure terror, of unimaginable pain. It was terrifying and made those who heard it more inclined to run away than to run and help. Unless, of course, the hearer recognized the voice that produced that scream, as Simon did. “River,” he said very very softly, his blood turning cold. He jumped out of his bed and fumbled out of his room. He didn’t notice the various Kubat’s peeking their heads out of their quarters as he rushed to the infirmary. He didn’t notice Inara and her worried expression as he ran past her, he didn’t hear her say his name. All he could hear was River scream. “What’s that?” Evangeline asked when Simon stormed into the infirmary. She was sitting up on the bed, looking nearly frightened enough to scream herself. “It’s nothing,” Simon said quickly, grabbing his med kit. “Go back to sleep.” “Doctor, don’ lie ta the girl,” Mal said. He had appeared in the doorway to the infirmary and was blocking Simon’s way. “Captain, please, you know . . .” Simon said quickly as he made his way to push past Mal. “That Kaylee got hurt while tryin’ ta fix up Nara’s shuttle,” Mal said pointedly before stepping aside. “An you gotta get up there.” “Right,” Simon said, looking gratefully at Mal before running out of the infirmary. “Is that Miss Kaylee screaming?” Evangeline asked obviously concerned. “Ah, no,” Mal said, taken a little aback by the hauntingly beautiful child. “No,” he said with a little more confidence. “That’d be the ghost, screemin’. Kaylee probably got hurt ‘cause she was startled and dropped somethin’.” “Captain Reynolds,” the ever near-racking voice of Mrs. Kubat said. “Did you just tell my daughter that there is a ghost on this ship?” “Yes I did,” Mal said, turning and smiling at the woman as well as the troop of little boys behind her. “You wanna hear the story?” “Yeah!” the boy who Mal’d seen tagging along after Jayne all day, Robby, said. “Absolutely not,” Mrs. Kubat said firmly. “We will not listen to horror stories and nonsense.” “Oh, this story is absolutely true,” Mal said, giving her his most honest face. “Now I know stories a ghost and such are usually nothin’ but, exaggerated tellin’s a things never happened,” he chuckled, “As ya kin hear, our story’s true as kin be.” The screaming, which had been sporadic for the past few minutes, suddenly stopped. There was a moment of absolute eerie silence. “Better ta hear it and know why the poor girls screemin’ even after she died ‘n all than just stew and wonder,” Mal said softly, not quite braking the silence. “Tell us the story,” Evangeline pleaded in a whisper. “Yeah,” Albert or Thomas (Mal wasn’t sure) added, his voice was also hushed. “Please,” Little Felix begged softly. Mal looked at Mrs. Kubat, asking with his clear blue eyes to entertain her children. She didn’t exactly give him permission, but, sighing in clear disgust, turned dramatically and headed back to her room, leaving the kids with the good Captain and whatever story he was going to tell. “Well,” Mal said, a little bit louder, letting a wave off shivers flow down his spine. “Guess that was as much a yes as anything else. Why don’ you boys go make yerselves nice and comfy out there in the common room.” “I want to hear the story too!” Evangeline insisted. “Don’ worry, little Miss,” Mal said, “I ain’t planin’ ta leave you out.” He walked over to the girl and gently picked her up. She struck him as far too light, but he forced himself not to be concerned. She’d been sick for quite a while; it was only to be expected. “Mal what’s going on?” Inara asked, peeking through the infirmary door as Mal carried out the weak little girl. “Nothin’ ta fret over,” Mal said, smiling pleasantly at the Companion. “I was just gonna tell these kids the story a the ghost what’s makin’ so much racket.” “Do you think that’s wise?” Inara asked. “I admit, tail kin get a bit suspenseful at places, but I’m sure it ain’t nothin’ a bunch a brave kids like these can’t handle.” “What about Simon?” Inara asked. “Aw, he’s off takin’ care a Kaylee.” “Kaylee?” “Yeah, she was fixin’ yer shuttle when the screemin’ started. Dropped somethin’ on her hand. Ain’t got all the details myself, but I’m sure Simon’ll see to it everythin’s all right.” “Yes,” Inara said, feeling no more comfortable, but allowing herself to sit down on the stairs next to the common room. “I’m sure he will.” * * * “Can you tell us the story now, Captain?” Robby asked, a little impatiently. “Please sir?” “Right,” Mal said, taking a deep breath. “the Ghost story. Now, this all happened a bit ago, but not so long. It started out like any normal trip fer us on Serenity. We were headed from Persephone to Boros, a trip of a couple days. We had a mess a passengers too, remember that ‘Nara?” “Quite clearly,” Inara said cautiously. “One of your passengers died?” Evangeline asked, wide eyed. “Hold up here, the story’s getting’ ahead of itself a bit,” Mal said. “We did have a mess a passengers. Ah, there was this married man go to visit his wife’s sister on Boros, he was a real odd ball, ‘meber him Inara?” “Not so much,” the companion said, feeling this lie was sounding a little too true. “And a doctor,” “Doctor Tambarino?” Evangeline asked. “Naw,” Mal said casually, “Didn’t pick him up till later. There was some other passengers, Can’t remember quite clearly. What I do remember, though, was this girl.” “How old was she?” Evangeline asked. “Bout seventeen, I think. That right ‘Nara?” “As far as I know,” Inara said. “Paid her fare in cash, had no luggage and this haunted look about her, right? Like she thought someone was followin’ her. She didn’t say nothin’ ta anyone, stayed locked in her room as much as could be done. Then, bout a day in ta the trip, a flag comes up over the cortex, got this girls picture on it. Says she’s the daughter of some rich dandy an’ that she’s been kidnapped.” He paused very dramatically. The children were hanging on his every word. Perhaps, more importantly, so was Inara. “What did you do?” Robby finally asked. “Well, I went ta her bunk and knocked on her door real polite and asked her what the whole thing was all ‘bout. I did no more’n mention the cortex and she bursts in tears. Turns out her family’d been plenty rich when she was born, but her pa was a real dunce when it came ta money and squandered the whole a the family fortune. So, pa’d practically sold her ta this man, this . . . ugly, cruel, blubberus, rich old man. Was the night before the wedding and she’d begged her parents ta call the thing off, but they had none a that. So she took all the cash she could find and ran away. She’d used up the last a her money to buy the ticket on Serenity, an’ she’d have nothin’ waitin’ for her on Boros. “Well, that didn’t hardly seem right, so I told the girl I’d see if I could line her up some work, in a factory or maybe on a ranch. She was real grateful, poor kid just wanted a chance ta live her own life, ya know, not be under the rule a nobody.” “This doesn’t sound like a ghost story,” Albert interjected. “Will ya hold up a minute,” Mal asked, annoyed at the young boy. “I’m getten ta the ghosty part. We’d reached Boros, glidin’ through the atmo. Now, we, that is ta say the crew of Serenity and me, believed that we were the only ones seen the alert. We were wrong. The man I mentioned before, man goin’ ta see he sister-in-law. Well somehow he’d seen the notice and decided he was gonna collect himself the nice fat reward. He confronted the poor girl, told her what he knew, said he was gonna take her back ta her father. She screamed and tried ta run up an’ get me, knowin’ I’d protect her. But thing is, passengers ain’t lowed ta wonder the ship, not without an escort, so she didn’t know the catwalks y’all saw when ya walked through the cargo bay. She tried runin’ up the stairs and she slipped. She screamed as she fell down them steeps, the most horrified scream I’d ever heard. That is, she screamed until her body hit the landing, where her neck snapped. She died right there, in a heartbeat, weren’t nothin’ no one could do. Weren’t exactly murder, so ‘thoritys on Boros didn’t charge the gent with anythin’ they just took her body an’ shipped it off ta her pa. But her spirit’s still here. Sometimes, usually when there’s new passengers, she screams. Don’ know if she’s doomed ta fall down that staircase till the end at time or if she’s just waitin’ and ‘tends ta move on. But she’s sure as hell here now.” The children looked at Mal with a mixture of wonder and terror in each set of blazing blue eyes. They believed every word of his story without question and would, undoubtedly, think twice every time they went up or down a staircase on Serenity. “Well, our ghostly lady’s stopped her screechin’ a good long while ago. An’ it’s much later than any respectable kid should be up. Of ta bed with the lot a ya, Captain’s orders.” The boys grumbled a ‘yes sir,’ and slowly lifted themselves off the floor so they could file themselves into their rooms. “You, little miss, I should put back ‘for anyone misses ya.” Mal said, picking up Evangeline and carrying her into the infirmary. “Doc’ll be back soon, no doubt, and might wonder where his little patient’s gone.” “Was that story really true?” the girl asked as he laid her down on the bed and pulled a blanket over her. “As true as not,” he said. “Now get some sleep. I hear tell you’re sick. Don’ want you gettin’ any worse on account’a me.” “Yes sir,” the young girl yawned. Mal took a second to smile at her, before turning and exiting the infermary, sliding the heavy metal door shut behind him. “That was quite a story, Captain,” Inara said softly, walking up to Mal. “Well, gotta tell ‘em somethin’” “I take it you’re going to go and debrief the crew on the ship’s ghost.” “Probably ought’a.” “Yes, well,” Inara said very softly. “It was a very good story.” “Thanks,” Mal said, just as softly. There was a heavy pause as the two looked at each other, finally Inara turned away and started towards her room. “Good night, Captain,” she said, sounding very official. “Night Ambassador,” Mal replayed with a sigh. * * * “’Bout time you showed,” Jayne spat at Simon as the Doctor rushed towards Inara’s shuttle. “I thought yer sister was supposed ta be smart. Don’t she know ‘nuff ta keep quiet when she’s hiddin’ out?” Simon ignored him and appealed to Wash, who looked more tired than anything else. “What’s going on?” “Zo and Kaylee’re in there,” Wash said with a long yawn. The sound of a dull thud, like something heavy hitting Inara’s carpeted floor, could clearly be heard over the screaming. Simon winced at the sound, the pilot was too sleepy to waste energy with reacting. “Don’t sound like their doin’ much good, though.” “So she’s not hurt?” Simon asked, not really relived by this information. “She’s well enough ta throw cups an’ plates at us when we tried ta get in there an’ keep her quiet,” Jayne said. “Yeah,” Wash said, the memory of the flying dinner ware rousing him a bit. “Be careful, she’s got this thing where men can’t go in.” “Men can’t . . .” “Screeched somethin’ about no man seein’ the bloody bed,” Jayne said, shaking her head. “Yer sister’s totally whacked.” Simon didn’t have an answer or a defense. “Well, thanks,” he said, taking a deep breath and stepping forward into the shuttle. As he entered he could hear Wash calling, “Tell Zoë I’m goin’ back ta bed!” The shuttle looked more or less like it usually did, with the exception of the tin cups and plates that were scattered around the door, flung by River to keep the men from seeing the Companion’s bed. Zoë was standing at the foot of the bed, her hand’s over her ears to block out River’s unbearable screech. Kaylee, much braver, was kneeling on the bed, trying to talk to River, who was curled up in a ball, blankets kicked aside and tangled around her, screaming wildly. It took Simon a heartbeat to suss up the situation. In the next heartbeat he ran over to the bed, crawled over it, and wrapped his arms around River before she could offer much resistance. “River, River!” He had to yell into her ear, to be heard over her wail. “It’s ok, it’s all ok. You’re safe. Calm down. River!” The sound of his voice seemed to work wonders. She stopped screaming and started gasping for breath and trembling. Simon turned to Kaylee. “Get me a blanket,” he said. “One I can wrap around her.” The girl nodded and rolled off the bed, looking for something more practical than silk sheets. Zoë, having removed her hands from her ears, walked carefully around the bed, watching how the doctor handled his sister. “River, why were you screaming,” Simon asked softly, holding his sister close, petting her hair, trying to keep her from trembling too violently. “Ajax,” River said. It sounded like she was about to cry. “He took me and he had me and no one could help me. I prayed and she didn’t care, she didn’t hear. It burned, everything burned, but they didn’t listen to me,” she was working her way into hysterics again. “Shhhhh, shhhh,” Simon soothed. “That’s just a story,” he said. “That book, it’s just filled with stories. It’s not real, it didn’t happen.” “Agamemnon is going to die,” she muttered. “Klytemnestra will kill him and kill me. Why didn’t Athena let me die in Troy?” She broke down into tears. The baffled doctor could do nothing but hold her and whisper soothing words into her ears. She didn’t seem to hear them. “Here,” Kaylee finally said, handing Simon a thick velvety blanket. “Sorry took so long, guess Nara don’t often get cold.” “Thanks,” the doctor said, taking the blanket and wrapping it around his sobbing, trembling sister. “What was she talkin’ about?” Zoë asked, once the situation seemed to have calmed and River appeared to have been subdued. “An’ why wouldn’t she let a Wash or Jayne in the room?” “I, ah, I’m not sure,” Simon said uncertainly. “That book she’s been reading is a collection of the Ancient Greek Writings, epic pomes and plays. The names she’s been saying, Ajax, Agamemnon, Klytemnestra, they’re all characters in the story of the Trojan War. I think she had a nightmare about it.” “So that book is giving her bad dreams,” Zoë said, looking over to the large volume which was lying on the floor, open, binding up. “Maybe she shouldn’t be reading it.” “I’d hate too . . .” Simon started. River, in a very clear and coherent voice captured everyone’s attention, “The book is wrong, or we’re wrong. Phryxis is in Penelopy’s bed. Atalanta stands without Hippomenes. An Eriny is beautiful. But Klytemnestra kills Agamemnon, Klytemnestra kills Agamemnon, that’s true, that’s true, that happens. Then she kills me. I’m next . . .” “River,” Simon said. “They’re stories, they’re not real.” “How can you say that?” She asked, truly baffled. “You have the golden fleece.” “You know there’s no such thing as . . .” “You touch people with your fleece and they get better,” River said, smiling as if Simon were the one who couldn’t tell reality from fantasy. “But not me. Apollo cursed me. The Gods you can’t . . . you can’t refuse the Gods. You try and you seal your own fate,” her voice had the notes of hysterics in it. “But the Gods, they don’t let that happen. Fate is fate it doesn’t change. The Gods have spoken, the lot is cast. We walk through the book and the words are printed and we think we’re writing them but their solid, they can’t be changed . . .” Simon pulled his sister a little closer to him. “Shhhhh,” he whispered. “Shhhh, it’s all right.” “Ya know,” Kaylee ventured. “Maybe I should make some tea or somethin’. Think that’d calm her down?” “I don’t know if giving her hot water would be a good idea right now,” he managed to throw her a soft smile, “But I’d appreciate some.” “You two got her under control?” Zoë asked, yawing. “I think so,” Simon said, distancing himself from River a little. The girl was muttering to herself reciting myth after myth where mere mortals tried to cheat fate only to have prophecies twisted and their lives ruined by their own efforts. “Oedipus, Oedipus committed patricide without knowing it. Fate made it so he had to, he didn’t have a choice. He was cursed and he didn’t have a choice, there is no choice . . .” “Shiny,” Zoë sighed. “I’m goin’ back to bed. Don’t forget ta clear out before too much longer. Don’t want the gan bu Kubats ta know ‘bout her, ‘bout this.” “Dang dang,” Simon said, stroking his sister’s hair. “Hippomenes is waiting for you,” River called, clearly talking to Zoë. “He always will. It’s his fate.” Zoë glanced at Simon, inquisitively. “Don’t worry,” he sighed. “It’s a good thing. I’ll explain later.” Zoë nodded and walked out leaving Serenity’s three youngest residents alone in the plush room. “Here,” Kaylee said after a moment, handing Simon a cup of steaming tea. “Thank you.” “You want some River?” “Phryxis don’t!” girl screeched, reaching out and trying to spill her brother’s tea before he could drink it. Simon, bewildered, instinctively leaned back, letting some of the scolding liquid slosh onto his hands before Kaylee was able to reach over and take the cup away from him, out of River’s grasping reach. “River,” Simon said, shaking his slightly burnt hand, an almost scolding tone in his voice. “What do you think . . .” “Don’t you recognize her?” River whispered to her brother, staring at Kaylee with a fearful expression. “River, it’s Kaylee,” Simon said, glancing apologetically at the mechanic. “You know Kaylee.” River nodded, “Furiae an Eriny.” Simon looked at his sister, absolutely horrified. “It’s a disguise,” River continued with an accusatory tone. “Pretty face, pretty hair, but I see, I have the book, I know the stories.” “What she call me?” Kaylee asked, trying not to be hurt. She had no idea why what River said was an insult, but both the Tams seemed to feel that it was a pretty bad one. “It’s not . . .” Simon started explaining awkwardly to Kaylee, before River interrupted him. “Daughter of darkness,” River offered helpfully. “Attendant of Hadies. You hunt and you pursue. No mercy, no rest. A cruel heart finds joy in pain.” “River that’s enough,” Simon said forcefully. “Maybe I should go,” Kaylee said, pushing her hair behind her ears as her eyes scanned the floor. “Kaylee . . .” Simon started, before turning to his sister. “River apologize.” “She follows fugitives, gives them no peace,” River said arguing her case. “She fills Phryxis’ mind, gives him pedestrian dreams.” “What?” Kaylee asked, glancing up at Simon. The young doctor glanced back at the mechanic and tried to say something. He couldn’t find any words. “It’s true,” River said very matter-of-factly. “He wants peace but he can’t have it. You tempt him and torture and . . .” “River stop,” Simon said sharply. “I read the book,” River said softly, more to herself than Simon. “You won’t believe me, but I know it’s true.” “Simon?” Kaylee insisted. “What’d she call me? An’ what she mean ‘pedestrian dreams’?” “Kaylee, I’m,” he struggled. Kaylee starred at him, her expression somewhat hard and expectant. “I’m sorry, but this probably isn’t the best time.” The mechanic nodded, a scowl twisting the corners of the mouth and the eyes that were so often smiling. “Sure,” she clipped. “I guess I’ll see ya tamarra.” She lifted herself off of the bed with grace, and turned around slowly, all physical signs pointed to her being totally composed. But every step she took further away from the brother and sister, every step she took where Simon didn’t call her back, she felt more and more tears of hurt and furry well up behind her eyes. By the time she reached the catwalk she was taking heaving breaths and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Simon watched her go, his mouth open, his mind searching for some thing to say that would make the girl feel better. He had absolutely nothing, which made him feel twice as guilty about what River had said then he’d felt before. “River,” he said softly, his eyes still on the door, “Why did you . . .” “She’s evil,” River said with a quiet conviction. “She’s not,” Simon snapped, turning his attention to his sister. The girl winced at his small flash of anger, Simon suddenly felt overcome with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out and putting his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off. The doctor closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued with a gentler tone of voice. “We both know that Kaylee is not evil,” Simon said reasonably. He sister glanced away and shrugged noncommittally. “Why are you saying those thing? Why did you call her a Fury?” The girl muttered something incomprehensible. “River?” She turned to look at him. There were tears in her eyes, “You look at her you feel happy,” River said, her voice was hard and defensive. “You look at me you feel sad.” There was a horrible pause. “River that’s not true,” Simon finally said, reaching out for her. She scooted out of his reach. “It is.” “River, I love you.” “That doesn’t change anything,” the younger girl asserted. “I don’t know what to do,” Simon confessed. “It doesn’t matter,” River replied. “Fate has spoken. You don’t have a choice.” * * * Over all, Mal hated having the Kubat’s on board. Mrs. Kubat was a commandeering wu po who had no shame in ordering him about as if she owned Serenity and he was just renting it. The kids were constantly under foot. The oldest boy, Robby, was Jayne’s new shadow, which created all sorts of difficult situations because everything of any consequence Mal need to say to Jayne was something that Mal didn’t want a prefect’s son to hear. Wash was spending a lot of time with the Albert and Thomas, which really didn’t concern Mal that much, only that Zoë was getting annoyed with the marked decrease in her husband’s maturity level. And when Zoë got annoyed with Wash, Mal got to sit listen as his firstmate vented her frustrations. But since the youngest Kubat, Felix, was always in either the Kitchen or the common room, she’d corner him in one of Serenity’s narrow hallways and he’d stand there, being a supportive friend, wishing he could sit down. Kaylee, his little ball of sunshine, was in a real snit herself. Something, he didn’t know what, had happened the night River woke them all up with her screaming. She was making a point of avoiding Simon. A very obvious point. The doctor got the point, that was clear. He stayed in the infirmary all most all day, only coming out for meals and sleep and to pester the captain. “Sir, I need your advice,” the young man said softly and nervously. Mal glanced around. The kitchen was empty except for the two of them. He couldn’t help but wonder if the fugitive life was building a habit of paranoia in the young doctor. And if that was the case, Mal thought it was probably for the best. “Go on,” Mal said in a normal tone of voice. Simon could be paranoid about many, many things, but he shouldn’t be paranoid about his captain; that would lead to nothing good. “I’m worried,” Simon said as he made up two plates of what Kaylee had prepared for the crew’s dinner. Kaylee, however, was long gone. Simon wouldn’t have shown his face if she were around. “About Evangeline.” “Thought you said she’s getting better.” “That’s the problem, Captain; she was never sick.” “What you talkin’ bout?” Mal said, worried by the doctor’s serious and concerned expression. “She’s all small and skinny.” “She was being starved,” Simon said, again speaking very quietly. This wasn’t paranoia, Mal realized, it was precaution for when one of the Kubats suddenly but inevitably appeared in the kitchen. “You’re saying her mother was . . .” “Yes,” Simon said. “That’s why I won’t let the woman in the infirmary.” “And quite a thorn in my side that is too,” Mal said. “I’m sorry captain,” Simon said, clearly sorry about how Mrs. Kubat had behaved, not about his choice. “Yeah, well, ain’t yer fault, son,” Mal sighed, patting the boy on the shoulder. “You got ta do what’s right by the girl. I understand that. Ain’t no problem.” “But what about when we dock?” Simon asked. “When we . . .?” “We’re scheduled to dock in New Dallas in two days. Evangeline will go back to her mother’s care and . . .” Simon was obviously troubled by how that sentence should have ended. He moved on. “As it is she’s suffered permanent developmental damage, her bones and muscles will never . . .” “Doc,” Mal said, drawing the boy out of his medical spiral. “What would you have done in yer ER?” “We had social workers who took over in child abuse cases.” “We could jump on the Cortex, find us a . . .” “They’d need to see my credentials, Mal,” Simon said. “No reliable service would take me seriously unless they checked out my history. Especially if I accuse a Prefect’s wife.” “Then that ain’t an option.” Simon was silent, the way he often was when he was forced to deal with the consequences of his fugitive state. “What about Alliance Docs? Could you talk to one of them?” “I doubt they’d trust me without viewing my credentials. They’d probably want to see them regardless.” “Hold up,” Mal said softly. “What about her brothers? Why is it that only the one girl is sick?” “I think, and this is my unqualified opinion, that Evangeline is the only child who’s taken ill because she is the only girl.” “Why should that matter?” Mal asked. “There’s a certain type of psychosis, I vaguely remember it from my ‘Introduction to Psychology’ class at Medacade. A mother feels threatened by her daughter and wants to keep her under control. As long as Evangeline was weak and helpless, she wasn’t perceived a threat.” “Gan xiee mu qin da han she!” Mal spat. “The girls thirteen; she was never a threat.” “I know,” Simon said softly. “Kay, doc,” Mal sighed. “I see you’re situation an’ I don’t pity you. I’ll figure somethin’.” “Captain I didn’t mean for you to . . .” “Simon,” Mal said, looking the frightened doctor in the eyes. “I kin take care a this. We ain’t gonna sit by an let a little girl die, and we ain’t gonna hand you over ta the Alliance.” “Thank you, Mal,” Simon said. He looked a little less afraid. “Now, go take care a that little tian shi,” Mal said kindly. “I’ll hunt ya out soon as I think a somethin’.” “Yes, sir,” Simon nodded gratefully before turning down the hallway towards the infirmary to bring the half-starved little girl her supper. Mal grabbed the plates he’d prepared and headed in the opposite direction of the young doctor. As he wandered over the catwalks towards his room, his mind played with various ways to keep little Evangeline safe without compromising the compassionate doctor. The most obvious solution was to alert Prefect Kubat to the abuse. But, Mal wondered, what kind of husband and father would be ignorant of that kind of goings-on? A better husband and father, Mal mused, than one who knew of it and permitted it. Sadly, Mal couldn’t venture a guess as to which category of neglect Mr. Kubat fell into. The man was so reclusive he made hermit crabs look like social butterflies. But the few time’s the Prefect and the Captain had met, the encounter had made Mal’s skin crawl. There was something unwholesome about the man. Of course, this Kubat cloud was not without its silver lining, having the damn Kubats around guaranteed him some quiet time with Inara every day. “Hey,” Mal called down through his open hatch. “I got food.” “Finally,” Inara said as she appeared below him. She was wearing her pink dress with a low v-neck and Mal had to struggle to keep his eyes on her face as he starred down at her. “I was about to send out a search party.” “Ran inta Simon,” Mal explained. “Boy had ta chew my ear a bit.” “About Kaylee?” “No.” Inara sighed, “His loss. What’s for dinner?” “Pork chops, potato dumplings and stewed apples.” “Really?” Inara asked with a chuckle. “Well,” Mal said, lowering down a tray with two meals on it. “That’s what would be for dinner if we were a great deal richer than we are. But I think with a little imagination and some pepper the protein ration could have a definite pork chop . . . essence.” “I see,” Inara laughed, putting the tray down on Mal’s bed. “And I suppose you think with a little salt the starch balls could be confused for dumplings.” “I would like to say, in my defense,” Mal said as he climbed down the ladder, “That the apples, at least, I wasn’t lyin’ about. I opened the can myself.” “I’m sure they’ll be delicious,” Inara said graciously. “If ya like I can pull out some of Kaylee’s wine. Then we’d have ourselves a right gourmet meal.” “Captain,” Inara gasped with feigned shock, “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to seduce me.” “Now, that ain’t my line a work,” Mal answered. “I’m just a simple man tryin’ ta be nice ta a pretty lady.” “If that’s the case, I’d love some wine.” Mal bowed dramatically for Inara, “Your wish is my command,” he said. She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Now, to be technical, I ain’t exactly sure if this is really wine,” Mal said as he knelt down and pulled a clear glass jug full of deep red liquid out from under the bed. “Does wine have ta be made from grapes.” “Not as a rule,” Inara said cautiously. “Why, what’s that made out of?” “See, that’s the thing, I ain’t sure,” Mal admitted. “Kaylee gets a peck a whatever fruits cheapest at every port.” “I see,” Inara said, watching Mal pour the crimson liquid into two tin mugs. “Well, I dread the day that the cheapest fruit is bananas.” * * * “Hey baby,” Zoë said, going up to Wash, who was climbing down the ladder, and giving him a kiss as soon as his boots hit the deck. “Hey,” he said, a little stunned, as she pulled away. “What was that for?” “Fer bein’ you,” Zoë said, smiling at him in her mysterious way. “Gee,” Wash said stepping further into the room and unstrapping the black vest he had on over his flight-suit. “I should be me more often.” She laughed and shook her head. Her thick mahogany hair danced around her shoulders and her deep dark eyes twinkled. “You’re always you, makes it easier fer me ta love you.” “Not that I’m complaining,” Wash said, trying to keep the excited giggles out of his voice as she started unbuttoning his flight-suit. “But what’s with the sudden boost of Wash-appreciation? I mean, I thought you were a little bu kuai. Thought you thought I was regressing.” “You are regressing.” Wash sighed, “True, I am regressing.” “Well, I was upset,” Zoë admitted with a sigh, “But then something made me realize that if you weren’t the kind man could keep a pair of nan sheng out of trouble and out of my hair for the better part a four days, I just wouldn’t love ya as much.” “Well,” Was said, struggling to shed his flight-suit in the middle of a series of passionate kisses. “I’m glad I could be of service.” More kissing. “Is there, ah, anything else you need me to do?” She laughed, “Oh, yes.” * * * “Gorramn it,” Kaylee muttered. She shook her hand in pain and then stuck her thumb in her mouth. This was not the most medically advisable way to treat the small burn she’s just given herself. She knew that. And a very petty and self-destructive part of her reveled in that idea. If Simon knew that she was just sticking her hand in her mouth instead of going to him and getting a cooling antibiotic cream and band aid put on it he’d . . . well, he wouldn’t be furious, really, he’d probably be more bewildered. Still, he wouldn’t be happy. And, even though she had no intention of ever telling him about her little burn, she enjoyed the fact that he’d be unhappy with her. This was a bold act of defiance, almost like spitting in his face, only with more pain in her thumb and him never knowing it’d happened. Tears were welling in her eyes. She told herself it was because her thumb hurt. “Gorramn it,” she muttered again. * * * It was late, later than it felt. And Inara was a little tipsy, tipsier than she should have been. This last batch of Kaylee’s mystery wine had been fairly strong. Thankfully, she really didn’t need to have her wits about her to find her way to River’s room. When Mal put his mind to it he could be a truly charming gentleman, Inara thought with a smile. He’d kept her amused for hours telling her stories about various adventures he’d had while trying to commit the simplest crimes. She’d laughed so hard she’d cried. It was nice, she thought, to be able to enjoy a night with a man and not have to be a ‘companion,’ not to be obligated to force whatever chemistry existed to spark. Not to have to turn good-natured conversation into passionate embarrasses. It was nice to have some quiet after talking to a charming man, to just feel contentment. She loved her job, she loved the excitement, she loved the mystery, she loved the constant challenges. But sometimes, it was nice to see the man do all the work. In her mildly intoxicated state Inara made a promise to herself that she would make a point of spending more time with Mal. Talking to him, not bickering but talking, was better than meditating, she mused as she walked through the kitchen. It occurred to Inara that a cup of tea would be nice. She hummed softly and tunelessly to herself as she set up the kettle and flipped through the assortment of powdered teas. She often wondered why tea bags were so much more expensive than powdered teas and powdered coffee. It seemed to here that the same amount of tea leaves would be needed to produce a batch of powdered tea as were needed to make an equivalent amount of tea bags, and the tea bags would require less manpower. It didn’t seem to make sense. She’d have to ask Mal, Inara thought with a smile. That seemed like the kind of thing he would know, and even if he didn’t know it he’d have something witty to say about it. “Is that you, Ms. Inara?” asked a thick voice the companion didn’t recognize. She glanced up and saw a large figure she didn’t recognize in the doorway, heading up from the passenger area. For a second her heart jumped into her throat as she thought there was an intruder, some horrible violent stowaway on Serenity. But then her brain caught up with reality and she recognized Prefect Kubat. Because she was a little drunk, it didn’t accrue to her to worry too much about how those eyes were looking at her. “Good evening, Sir,” She said, smiling at him in her companion way. “I was making some tea, would you like some?” “Perhaps later,” the man said. “Where were you?” Inara laughed, “That’s a very forward question.” “I don’t want to appear rude,” he said. He was walking around the counter slowly and purposefully. “I was just curious.” “I was with Captain Reynolds, if you must know,” Inara said. “We had dinner.” “You dined with him?” The prefect asked. He was leaning in the entrance to the kitchen area. Inara was glad he hadn’t come in; there really wasn’t room between the lockers and the counter for more than one person. “He brought me my dinner, yes,” She said. “You told me you ate alone.” Inara was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. “And you told my wife that you would not service crew or passengers.” “I was not servicing Captain Reynolds,” Inara said louder than she meant to. “Why not?” “Mal?” she asked, exasperated. “Are you kidding? First of all, he couldn’t afford me, second . . .” “I mean, what reasons do you have for not servicing passengers?” The tone of his voice was very unnerving. Inara tried to convince herself that the fear she was feeling was due more to Kaylee’s wine than any actual danger she was in. “Serenity is my home,” she said. “I don’t work at home.” “I would very much like your company, Miss. Inara,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. Inara realized that the fear she was feeling had nothing to do with Kaylee’s wine. The companion took a deep breath and thanked the Academy for its very complete training. “I’m afraid that is quite impossible,” Inara said sweetly. “The water is done, would you like some tea.” “I’m willing to pay three times your regular fee.” “Sir,” Inara said forcefully. “Not only are you married with children, but we are presently sharing a very small ship with them. Even if I did not have reestablished directives prohibiting servicing passengers, I would refuse you out of respect for your family.” “My family,” he laughed. “You’ve seen my wife and . . .” “And she is your wife,” Inara said solidly. “Any troubles you have with her can only be made worse by any interaction with me.” “I am not accustomed to being refused.” “And I am not accustomed to being harassed,” Inara said. “Now sir, if you could please step aside, I want to go to bed.” “You know you play at being a lady,” He said, taking a step closer. Every muscle in Inara’s body tensed, “I am a lady. The question now is, are you a gentleman?” If she hadn’t been a little drunk she probably would have been able to duck in time. But her reflexes were not all they could be and so the best she could do was roll with the slap. Still, he had enough force behind it to send her crashing into the counter to her right, which caught her sharply in the ribs. She gasped, and fell on her knees. The prefect grabbed Inara’s arms and dragged her to her feet before she could even catch her breath. He slammed her against the opposite counter, breathing heavily on her and squeezing her arms so tightly that her fingers started to tingle. “Biao Zi,” he spat. “There are things I need.” “Dao di yu!” She said between clenched teeth as she reached slightly to her right, where the kettle full of boiling water was sitting. She managed to get a grip on the handle and ignored the pain of the hot metal on her soft, unprotected flesh. With all the strength she had she forced her right hand free and flung the kettle on his face. He screamed, surely loud enough to wake everyone in the passenger dorms. His hands flew to his face and he staggered backwards. But Inara couldn’t think about that. All she could think about was that this was her chance to get away. She turned and ran. She’d been told that some men believed they could sexually assault a companion. Some men thought that just because she sold herself, they could buy her. She’d even heard the impassioned speech of such a victim. But she’d never, never believed that it could happen to her. She was trembling all over when she opened the door to her shuttle. She could barely hold her hands still enough to activate the lock. And when River spoke she let out a little scream before she caught herself. “You’re hurt,” the girl observed. Inara allowed herself a few shaky gasps and endeavored to collect herself. “I’m fine.” “Brave Penelope,” River said as she handed Inara the soft velvety blanket. The girl was shaking her head as if she understood the situation perfectly. “Thank you, River,” Inara said uncertainty, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. “Odysseus will come home,” River continued compassionately, obviously trying to calm Inara down. “You’ll be together. It’s fate. And all this won’t matter.” “That’s kind, River, really,” Inara said, she was starting to cry. “But I don’t think . . .” the Companion’s thoughts trailed off as a scowl appeared on the young girl’s face. “What?” “No one believes me,” River said simply before turning around and curling up on the bed. Tired, though she had been, Inara couldn’t possibly have slept. She lowered the lights in the shuttle and walked over to the couch where she could sit in the darkness. She wasn’t hurt, she was just scared. But it was a cold, gripping fear that seemed to freeze everything inside of her. Even now that she was safe, the fear was still there; she didn’t know how to get rid of it. And in the darkness, where no one could see her tremble, she secretly wished that River’s ramblings had been a prophecy, that someday someone would come and make all that fear not matter.