“Ok,” Simon said, putting down his pinchers and picking up the scissors to cut off the remainder of the thread. “It’s done.” “She’ll be all right?” Book asked. “Fine,” Simon sighed, looking at Kaylee’s beautiful, unconscious, face. “She won’t be able to use her left arm for a while, but she’ll be fine.” He took a sharp breath and pulled his eyes away from the girl and onto the Shepherd. “We should move her.” “Maybe we should get the Captain’s permission first,” Book said. “We don’t know what’s going on out there, if they found the person who did this or not.” “Serenity’s not big,” Simon said softly. “She couldn’t have gone far. Besides, she doesn’t know the ship well enough to hide.” “You sound like you know who did this.” “I do,” Simon said looking up at the Shepherd. “Mrs. Kubat. She went mad, killed her husband. Kaylee must have stumbled into her, maybe seen the blood on her cloths . . .” “Did you just say she killed her husband?” the Shepherd asked, horrified. Simon nodded. “Probably with this knife.” “Those poor children,” Book said with a hushed voice. “Well,” Simon mused. “They are now more or less orphans, which is tragic. On the other hand their father was an inattentive rapist and their mother was a homicidal psychopath. So who’s to say they aren’t better off?” “Doctor,” Book said, a little shocked. “I never figured you for the judgmental type.” “I’m not judging them,” Simon said, taking off his sanitized gloves. “But I’m not going to ignore the facts. Evangeline was being starved.” “What? I heard she was sick.” “She was weak because she was being given just enough food to keep her alive.” “That’s why you wouldn’t let the mother see her daughter?” Book asked. “That’s right.” “And why the girl improved so much under your care.” “All I did was feed her,” Simon said as he slipped his surgical apron off. “I don’t . . .” he started weakly before his voice faltered. “Yes?” Book prompted. “Children should have good parents,” Simon asserted. “Parent’s who love them, who want to protect them.” “Unlike River’s parents?” Book asked. “And yours?” Simon turned away without answering under the pretence of having to wash his utensils in the kitchen sink. There was a thick silence, when Book finally broke it he felt like his words were echoing through the whole ship. “I’m sorry son, I didn’t mean too imply that . . .” “You don’t have to apologize,” Simon said, looking up from his fastidious rinsing. “You’re right. My parents didn’t care enough about us to believe me when I told them about River, about the academy.” “Still,” Book apologized, “What I said was cruel, thoughtless. I’m sorry.” “If the truth is cruel it’s not your fault,” Simon said. “My parents were bad, they just were able to hide it until we were grown and could understand exactly how little they cared. At least these kids are still kids; they’ll be able to adjust.” Book opened his mouth and considered asking Simon what exactly the boy meant by that, if he didn’t feel as if he or his sister had properly adjusted to the actions of his parents; actions that the Shepherd could only label as abandonment. But it had been a long night and every sign pointed toward it being an equally long day. “Maybe I should find the Captain, make sure that everything’s all right to move Kaylee,” Book said after a moment. “Then I could go talk ta the kids, see what I can do.” Simon nodded, “Good, I’ll stay with her ‘till you get back.” Book nodded and walked out the door leading towards the cockpit, closing it behind him. Simon sighed and started making a pot of coffee. He had a feeling that soon it would be in high demand. As it peculated Simon walked back to the table and stood over Kaylee, looking at her dirty face, stroking her grubby hair. She should be wakening up soon, he knew. He didn’t want her to think for a second that she was waking up alone. He smiled down at her as her eyes started to flutter open, “Hey there, Kaylee,” he said sweetly, slipping his hand into hers now that she was awake. “How do you feel?” “Kinda like I’m glowin’ inside,” She said, smiling back up at him unabashedly. “Don’ spose I am, though.” “You always seem to be glowing inside,” Simon said kindly. “But I did give you a healthy dose of pain killers, if that’s what you mean.” “The world looks fuzzy,” Kaylee observed. “Shhh,” Simon said, stroking her cheek. “You should rest.” “You’re so nice,” Kaylee said. “Even when I’m mad at you you’re nice.” Simon glanced away and swallowed, he was about to apologize for what River had said and apologize for not doing it sooner, but before he could Kaylee spoke again. “Burnt my thumb,” she said, lifting her right hand up so Simon could see her injury. “So you did,” Simon said, letting go of her left hand and pulling away from her face so he could hold her right hand and examine the small blister. “This looks like it hurt.” “I wasn’t thinkin’ tried ta pick up the micro-welder ‘for it cooled.” “Why didn’t you come and ask for a bandage?” Simon asked, lowering her hand and turning back so he was looking at her face. “I want you to kiss it an’ make it better,” the girl said. “Kiss it and make it better?” “Yeah,” she said, a sweet, innocent, almost silly smile spread across her face. After considering her very seriously for a moment Simon nodded, “Alright,” he said softly, pulling her hand up again and giving her thumb a very gentle kiss. “Thanks,” She said with a soft sort of giggle. “Feels better.” Simon chuckled softly, “Well that’s the kiss they teach in school. Guaranteed to work. Now you really should rest.” “Ya know,” Kaylee said, a little more seriously, but still clearly very, very drugged. “I’ve kissed a lotta guys.” “Have you?” Simon asked, a little uncomfortably. “Yeah,” She sighed. “I like kissin’.” “Oh,” Simon said. He had to fight his instincts to retreat from this conversation. “An’ I ain’t never wanted ta kiss a guy more’n I wanna kiss you,” She said with a sort of clarity that cut through her very drugged state. “Kaylee, I . . .” Simon started. “An’ yer the only guy who’s not wanted ta kiss me.” “Its, its not that,” Simon stuttered. “Not like that.” “Naw,” Kaylee insisted with a kind smile. “I like it. ‘Cause, it’s like, kissin’ is somethin’ ta you. An’ someday you’ll kiss me, I mean, really kiss me, when yer sober an’ I’m sober, an’ it’ll be somnthin’. An’ if ya kissed me b’for that, well, it wouldn’t be somethin’ and I kinda want somethin’, ya know?” “You need to sleep, Kaylee,” Simon said, running his fingers gently over her temple. “Alright,” the girl sighed, closing her eyes. She took a deep, contented breath and let out a soft happy moan. It was only a matter of seconds before Simon was sure the girl was fast asleep “Sweet dreams,” the doctor told his patient softly, before leaning over and placing a tender kiss on her forehead. * * * “This is it,” Wash said, pointing to a more-or-less blueish blip on the space chart. “This has to be where they are.” “That a planet or an ocean?” Zoë asked. “It’s called Poseidon,” Wash said. “It’s a fishing colony.” “Moon must have been covered with ice when they terra formed it,” Mal mused. “Makes it easier,” Zoë pointed out. “Can’t land a shuttle in water.” “True ‘nuff,” Mal said. “What kinda land they have in the middle of their ocean?” “There’s thousands of itty bitty islands. Little things bout a mile long.” “Chi dai xing xing,” Jayne muttered. “This could take days.” “Naw, Prefects wife in a nice shuttle, she ain’t lookin’ ta hide out,” Mal said. “She’s goin’ ta the biggest show in town ta start her new life. What kind a cities we got, Wash?” “Well, there’s about thirty assorted fishing villages on various islands, ah, but if were looking for actual civilization . . .” “Or some close approximation,” Mal said. “Then we’re looking at the twin cities of Pegasus and Minotaur. There on the two of the larger islands and connected by bridges. About six-hundred-thousand people total.” “Can Serenity dock?” Mal asked. “Both cities got docking facilities. I’ll see what I can do.” “Good, holler once you find something,” Mal said, straightening up and turning to Zoë and Jayne. “Zoë, I need you to pop on the Cortex, let the big wigs over in New Dallas know that we are going to be a little late.” “They’re gonna wanna know why, Sir,” Zoë said. “Don’t lie,” Mal ordered. “But be vague. Say we ran into some trouble and were forced to land on Poseidon. If they wanna send a patrol out ta help us they’re plenty welcome, otherwise we’ll explain everything, as well as deliver the family soon as we can.” “Yes sir,” Zoë said. “Jayne, you got a tranquilizer gun?” “Tranquilizer gun?” the mercenary asked. “What’s that for?” “I’ll take that as a no,” Mal sighed. “We need to catch Mrs. Kubat but not kill her. She’s our proof that one a us didn’t go crazy an’ kill the old man.” “Do you really think they’ll believe us sir,” Zoë asked. “Even if we have the old woman?” “We gotta hope they will,” Mal said. “We got nothin’ else.” “Ah, Captain,” Book said as he entered the cockpit. “Is everything all right?” “No, everything is all wrong, thanks anyways for askin’,” Mal said, his stress showing in his voice. “How’s Kaylee,” Zoë asked. “She’s just fine,” the Shepherd answered. “Doc stitched her up. He wants to move her to her room, but we weren’t sure if there was still someone about who might do her harm.” “No,” Mal clipped. “Ship’s safe enough. All the psychopaths did us the great favor of runnin’ away, so’s now we gotta chase after ‘em.” “Running away?” Book asked. “Did Mrs. Kubat steal a shuttle?” “That she did,” Mal said with a sarcastic smile, “Bet you can’t guess which one.” “River,” the preacher said softly. “What are you going to do?” “Find the murderess alive,” Mal said. “Hope we find the girl the same. You can tell the Doc it’s ok to move Kaylee, fact, I’m sure it’s best. If you could help him with that preacher?” “Of course, I don’t suppose I could solicit Jayne as well?” “Ta carry her? Fine.” “Hey, don’t I get a say in this?” Jayne protested. “Nope,” Mal said quickly to Jayne, “Go.” “Right all right,” the large man muttered, pushing his way past Book, who turned and followed, leaving Mal, Wash and Zoë alone in the cockpit. “Yeah, ah,” Wash said to port control on the sea planet. “We need to dock, just for a few hours. . . . Gotta pick some stuff up and leave again . . . No, nothing to do with that . . . well yes, I suppose everyone does like saltwater taffy . . .” Zoë was very carefully composing her wave to the authorities of New Dallas, “We regret to inform you, no, wait, scratch that. Unfortunately we ran into some unseen, no scratch that, Unforeseen events have forced us too . . .” Mal turned and looked at the stars, the seemingly endless stars, and sighed. * * * “Poseidon,” River said very softly as she eased the small shuttle down at a short-range ship dock. They were the only space-worthy vessel parked there and River wondered if her Klytemnestra knew just how conspicuous they were. “He has nothing to do with this.” “Zhu kou,” Mrs. Kubat snapped. “I’m sick of your ranting feng zi.” “Things look right, but are really all wrong,” River said, swiveling around in her chair so that she was looking at Mrs. Kubat. “Or maybe it’s all right and looks wrong.” “If you don’t still your tongue I will still it for you,” Mrs. Kubat said with a vicious rage in her voice. “With an ax,” River informed the older woman. “You’ll chop me up with an ax.” “I told you to be quiet,” Mrs. Kubat’s voice was shrill and nerve racking. It would have made anyone but River’s skin crawl. “I need to think.” “Think,” River muttered. “Think think think thoughts that need to be thunk. Work so hard to think straight, think in a line, think from point alpha to point zed and no pauses for a foxtrot with Charlie.” “I could sell this shuttle,” Mrs. Kubat said, trying to ignore River. “Live conservatively off the profit.” “People don’t like prophets; people don’t want to know the future. They think they do but they don’t.” “Set up in a nice hotel, look for a new husband, a proper husband. Start a new life.” “If you know the future, you know something. If you have the book, have the story, you know your part. But the parts, they get mixed up. Phryxis shouldn’t have been in Penelope’s bed, no, that was wrong. And Hippomenes saw it. And the Eriny, you can’t . . . you can’t kill a daemon.” “All I’ll have to do is get rid of her,” Mrs. Kubat said, turning to River. “The book doesn’t change, the book can’t change, but the words and the world, they stopped being the same, or maybe they never were.” Mrs. Kubat started looking around the shuttle’s interior for something to quiet River with. “If it’s written down, if it’s printed, then it is, it can’t not be. But what if it’s wrong? Then it is wrong. Plato’s model of the universe was truth until Galileo and Galileo until Newton and Newton until Einstein and Einstein until Hawkins . . .” “Here we are,” Mrs. Kubat purred, picking up a large, heavy vase made of thick, carved crystal. It could easily bash a pretty little girl’s head in and shut her intolerable mouth for good. “Too much,” River whimpered, “Too much truth, her head will explode with lies that are true and truths that are lies. And the Gods laugh, because that’s what they always do. They give gifts without mercy and the gifts cut like an ax and you bleed and bleed and no one has a bandage and you’re infected . . .” Her tirade was suddenly silenced when Mrs. Kubat swung the crystal vase not unlike one would swing an ax, and hit River squarely on the jaw. The girl went flying and collided with the shuttle’s wall. She lay still, dazed for a moment, as Mrs. Kubat took a step closer so she was once again standing over the girl. “I told you to hold your tongue.” “‘...the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others...Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.’ John Stewart Mill.” “If that didn’t hurt you enough I’ll hit you again.” “Pain is a neurological indication that there is a physical default. I know from force exerted, arch, density and point of impact that the vase produced a hairline fracture in my jaw an inch and a half long. Pain is irrelevant, obsolete.” “I’m going to kill you.” Despite the eye watering, obsolete pain in her jaw, River smiled and laughed, “See, I told you! And you didn’t believe me!” * * * “Found it!” Zoë said loudly. Mal hurried over to her and looked at the cortex screen over her shoulder. “Looks like they docked not ten minutes ago,” Zoë said. “About two miles from here, short range lot.” “Great,” Mal said, turning away from the cortex and hurrying out of the cockpit. “We take the mule, hurry on over. Small town like this, trakin’ down a big city girl should be easy as beating Jayne at checkers.” “Here’s hopin’” Zoë said, following him as they hurried down to the cargo bay. “Wash,” Mal yelled. “We’re takin’ the mule. She ready?” “Just waitin’ on you, sir,” Wash yelled back up. “Good,” Mal said. “You’re driving. Once we find the shuttle you fly it back and get it docked.” “No problem.” “Jayne, you’re with us. Bring a gun but no bullets.” “What the hell kind a good is a gun if you ain’t got no bullets?” Jayne demanded, even as he detached the clip from his shotgun. “It’s good for scaring little old lady’s is what,” Mal said. “We need her alive, and if we got no bullets in our guns we ain’t nearly as likely to shoot her by accident.” “Aw, Mal . . .” “No bullets!” Mal said again as he hit the deck. “If we don’t bring her back alive the Alliance is just gonna assume we killed them both because we’re Alliance-hating Independents.” “Which some of us are,” Wash mused. “But none of us are murders,” Mal said then, glancing at Jayne, amended. “Well, murders of that man in there. And today that’s all that counts. Zoë, you hold down the fort. Handle any official-type communication wave we happen to receive.” “Yes, sir,” Zoë said, nodding to her captain. “All right,” Mal said, climbing onto the back of the four-wheeler next to Jayne as Wash drove. They were almost out of the hatch when Simon came running down the staircase, red med kit in hand. “Wait,” the boy yelled. “I need to go.” “Hold up Wash,” Mal ordered. “Aw, Mal,” Jayne whined. “We ain’t gonna drag along the doc are we? First no guns, then him, ‘s like Canton all over ‘gain.” “You’re staying here, Doctor,” Mal yelled, not moving to get off the mule. “Kaylee still needs you.” “Kaylee is stable and sleeping,” Simon asserted as he reached the deck, walked past Zoë and headed towards the mule. “River’s the one who needs me.” “Look here, Doc,” Mal said very seriously. “This woman we’re goin’ after, she killed her husband, she stabbed Kaylee, and then she locked herself in a shuttle with your sister. Now I ain’t sayin’ the girl’s dead but just take a moment and think of how she cast herself in those Greek tragedies.” “If you find my sister hacked to death I want to be there,” Simon said. His voice was firm, unmovable, his jaw was set in determination. “River means everything to me. If she’s dead, if she was killed, I think I have a right to see it first hand. And if not, she’s going to need me, you know that.” Mal nodded, “You’re right, hop on.” “Thank you, Captain,” Simon said, climbing on the back of the cart. “Wash, move us out,” Mal ordered. “‘Bout gorramn time,” Jayne muttered, glaring at Simon, who seemed to be struggling with holding on to both the mule and his med kit. Mal nodded, “I must admit, each clock tick do seem mighty important.” * * * “I don’t know!” River screamed from her position, cowering beneath the shuttle controls hoping to avoid her own, personal, vase-wielding Klytemnestra. “It was clear but now it’s all dark, somebody spilled ink on the words and she can’t tell what’s a letter and what’s a stain. The stories are true, but I’m true and she doesn’t know which truth is right and which is hearsay!” “Get out from under there you gan kaung niu!” Mrs. Kubat screeched, holding the heavy vase threateningly over the girl. “I don’t wanna die,” River whimpered, pleaded. “I don’t want the stories anymore. If she’s not Cassandra and you’re not Klytemnestra will you let her go?” “Zhu kou, zhu kou, zhu kou!” the woman yelled right as the shuttle door hissed open. “Now, now, now, Mrs. Kubat,” Mal said scoldingly as he pulled out his gun. “Let’s try for a little decorum, shall we?” The captain’s words were like a switch that turned off insanity. The woman cleared her throat and eased herself up almost gracefully. “Why, Captain,” she said as she put down the crystal vase, which had fresh blood showing off its fine etchings. “I didn’t expect you.” “I should say you didn’t,” Mal said. It was eerie, watching the woman push the wisps of her hair behind her ears and smooth out the dress she’d obviously stolen from Inara, which was too big in the bust and too tight in the hips. She looked very much like the aristocrat she was and behind her, River was cowering, trembling, and bleeding. When Mal looked at Mrs. Kubat he saw a kind of madness that was more frightening than Reaver’s because it had all the cool calculation of the Alliance. “There’s really no need for guns, Captain. As you can see I’m quite harmless.” “As I’ve seen you’re anything but,” Mal said. “Step away from the girl.” Mrs. Kubat glanced hatefully down at River for a second, before smiling back up at the Captain, “Do you mean Cassandra?” “Not Cassandra!” River screamed, reassuring the captain that his crazy little ward was just fine, or at least, just status quo. “That’s who I mean exactly,” Mal said, glancing at the girl who was rocking back and forth as much as her somewhat cramped position allowed, chanting, “Not Cassandra, not Cassandra, not Cassandra.” Mal took a deep breath and turned his gaze back to the psychopathic aristocrat, “Now I ain’t in the mood fer parlor games. Step away from the girl and sit yerself on the bed here.” “I’m not accustomed to being ordered about, Captain,” Mrs. Kubat said, the commanding edge back in her voice. “And I’m not accustomed to having my shuttles stolen and my crew assaulted,” Mal said. “So it’s been an odd day for both of us. Get on the bed or I’ll have Jayne put you on the bed.” “How dare you!” Mrs. Kubat gasped. “I’m a lady. I will go where I want when I want.” “Jayne.” “And,” Mrs. Kubat said coldly. “I have decided to do as you requested.” She quickly stepped away from the console and sat primly on the bed, folding her hands on her lap and holding her head high, as if she had nothing to be ashamed of. “Fine,” Mal said, uncocking his bullet-less gun and putting it back into the holster. “Jayne, tie ‘er up.” “Captain Reynolds,” Mrs. Kubat gasped as Jayne approached, clearly annoyed that there had been no shooting and no struggle. “I protest!” “Go ahead,” Mal said, turning around and heading back to the door. “Jayne, be sure ta gag her too.” “With pleasure,” The mercenary said, pulling a dirty handkerchief out of his back pocket, stuffing it into her mouth before she could throw out any more appeals or threats that Mal would have to ignore. “Doc, Wash, all’s clear,” Mal called out of the door. “Come on up.” Simon was the first to appear in the door, his face was anxious, and he clearly didn’t expect to hear good news, “Is she. . . ?” “A little worse for wear, but Cassandra is fine, I think,” Mal said, patting the boy on the shoulder reassuringly. “Under the counsel.” Relief washed over the doctor’s face as he hurried to the cockpit, “Get her outta there,” Mal said. “We need ta get off this rock as soon as possible, that means getting this shuttle back on Serenity as soon as possible. Wash can’t fly if he’s got a girl under his feet.” “Well, I could,” Wash said as he entered the shuttle as Jayne pushed his way out to drive the mule back to the ship. “But I have a feeling Zoë’d object.” “Yes, sir,” Simon muttered as he very carefully lowered himself to his knees so he could look his sister in her eyes. “Cassandra?” He said softly, reaching out for her. “It’s all right, it’s me, Phryxis.” “I’m not Cassandra,” River whimpered. “Please don’t, I don’t want to be Cassandra.” “You’re not Cassandra,” Simon said very softly, reaching out and touching her face, careful to avoid the large bruises on the left side of her jaw. “You’re River, you’re my sister.” “I thought,” River said between her desperate, frightened gasps. “I thought that if this was the book I could understand, I thought it would all make sense. But the book, the book is only right some of the time.” “Shhh,” Simon soothed, reaching out with his other hand and pulling her out from under the console towards him. “It’s all right.” “She just wants it to make sense, why doesn’t anything ever make sense?” “It’s ok,” He said folding the girl in his arms as he scooted out of Wash’s way. “Everything’s going to be ok. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.” River’s ramblings faded into tears as she felt Simon’s protective arm’s around her and heard his soothing voice. Cassandra never had this, but River always would. The clarity that came from having everything written out, from having a guide to reality, was nothing compared to this, River thought. Any amount of uncertainty, of confusion, of disjointedness in reality was worth it so long as she had Simon to wrap his arms around her and tell her it was all right. He was really all she needed. “I’m not Cassandra,” the girl said softly, once she’d cried herself nearly dry. “No,” Simon said kindly, “You’re not, thank God.” “I’m River, I’m your sister.” “Yes,” he said kissing the top of her head softly. “You are.” River pushed herself away from him just a little so she could look him in the eyes, “You believe me?” He smiled at her, “To a fault.” She nestled herself against his chest again and closed her eyes, “I’m River and Simon believes me.” She muttered contentedly before slipping into an exhausted sleep. * * * “She’s lying,” Inara laughed, shaking her head with a cool confidence. “It’s true that I did hit him on the head with a hot kettle, but that was in self defense. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t, stab a man in cold blood.” “Do you mind telling me why you couldn’t?” The Alliance interrogator asked. “For starters, I just don’t have the stomach for it,” Inara said. “If I really wanted to kill a man, I’d use a gun. And, because I know you’re going to check, I do have one. But far more important to your investigation, I think, is the fact that I was locked in the Captains quarters, for my own protection, on the other side of the ship at the time of the crime.” “Could you have gotten out of the quarters, gone down to the infirmary, stabbed Prefect Kubat, and then returned?” “I suppose,” Inara sighed. “But I don’t think I would have stabbed my best friend.” * “She came at me with her knife, like this!” Kaylee said excitedly, holding up her right hand in a stabbing position. “An’ I screamed and threw my arm’s up and she tried to stab me, well, she did stab me, but she tried ta get me in the heart, and ‘cause I had my hands up she cut my arm a bit and missed. I can show ya the cut.” “I’m sure that’s unnecessary,” the interrogator said. “And you did nothing to provoke her.” “Not a gorramn thing,” Kayle said. “Offered ta make her tea is all. Course I was kinda dirty, so she might notta wanted me ta make her anything, ya know, but didn’t do anythin’ ta be stabbed over, that’s for sure.” * “I can tell ya why she did it,” Jayne grunted. “’Cause she was nuts.” * “You never knew what would set her off,” Wash said, a little exasperated. “One day the boys would be running all over the ship, and that was fine, that was educational. The next day, no the next minute, they were scolded for cavorting with the crew.” “Do you have any idea why? Wash shrugged. “She thought we’d be a bad influence. What with the not trying to kill people, I guess . . .” * “He was dead, I mean, clearly dead, when I got there,” Simon said nervously. “Look me in the eye.” “Sorry,” the boy said, forcing himself to follow instructions. “Is there a reason I make you so nervous, Dr. Tamborino?” “No special reason,” Simon lied. “Why don’t I believe you?” “I’m sure I have no idea,” Simon said. “Are you really a doctor?” “Ah, well, they call me ‘Doctor’.” “But you are, in fact, just a medic.” “Ye. . . yes.” “And where did you learn your trade?” “I, ah, the war,” Simon said quickly. “I was a medic in the war. That’s how I met the Captain, and Zoë, actually. In the war . . . you know.” “I see,” the man grumbled. “Aren’t you a little young, to have been in the war?” “Ahhh,” Simon stuttered. “I, ah, wasn’t a registered medic, I mean, you’re not going to find my name on any official documentation.” “Independents,” the interviewer grunted with clear distain, before regrouping his thoughts. “So, you’re telling me that any attempt to revive Prefect Kubat’s life would have been . . .” “Useless,” Simon said, with more confidence. “He was really, very dead.” * “Don’t know that there’s that much more to say,” Zoë said. “Didn’t care to get to know her or her kids.” “You spent nearly a week with them and you have no comments, no opinions?” “Well,” Zoë said, searching. “I guess I’d have to say that the parents were nuts but the kids were cute.” * “I feel for the children, I really do, to have their father taken away from them by their mother nonetheless. Will they be taken care of?” “I believe they have family here on New Dallas,” The interviewer said. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Some have said they’re better off, that their parents were bad.” “Do you think that, Shepherd?” “I don’t know, doubt I ever will,” Book said. “God is the only one who can judge whether a person is good or evil. Still, it seems fairly clear that the children will be safer without their parents. The whole thing’s just so sad.” * “Yeah,” Mal quipped sarcastically. “Tears me up inside.” “If any of your crew is found guilty of murder, they will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.” “You’re saying they’ll be executed.” “Precisely, and you will be held as an accomplice.” “Which means I’ll be executed.” “You’re catching my drift. Unless, of course, you want to tell me what really happened?” Mal considered this for a second. Finally, he nodded and leaned in, “Fine, I’ll tell you the whole truth, no secrets.” “Good,” the interviewer said. “This will be much better for you.” “Like we said, Kubat attacked Inara, so we lock her up in my quarters, right, and lock him up in the Infirmary and then I go to sleep in one a the passenger suites.” “I’ve heard all this.” “I get woke up in the middle of the night by my mechanic, Kaylee, who’s got a knife stuck in her shoulder. She says Mrs. Kubat shoved it in there for no reason.” “Yes.” “So Doc and I go downstairs to get what he needs to help Kaylee and that’s when we see it.” “Prefect Kubat’s body?” “’Xactly,” Mal said. “In the infirmary, didn’t touch a thing.” “So you said.” “Minute later I find out that Inara’s shuttle is gone. First thing I do is go check ta see if Inara’s still locked up in my quarters. She is. We hunt down the shuttle and find it on Poseidon. You got the docking slips right there.” “So I do.” “When we find the shuttle we find Mrs. Kubat, rantin’ and ravin’ bout some person named Cassandra who, so far as I kin tell, don’t exist. Point of interest, she was wearin’ one a Nara’s dresses and there was a bloody nightgown in the corner; I believe you got that,” “We do.” “So, I told Jayne ta tie her up. That’s the whole story.” “That’s exactly what your crew told me.” “I got me a truthful bunch,” Mal smiled. “Mrs. Kubat denies it all.” “Well, most likely I would, too, in her shoes.” “But what you say does collaborate with much of the evidence.” “The truth tends to do that.” “So I don’t seem to have much choice. I’m releasing you and your crew. You are fee to go.” “Great,” Mal said, “Glad to hear it. But there is one thing I need to set straight before I leave.” “What would that be?” “Where do I get paid?” * * * “All right,” Mal yelled to be heard over the creaking of the hatch as it closed, his voice boomed off the walls of the cargo bay. “Here’s the plan. We got a wave ‘bout two days ago said there could be a job on Summerset, up near Golden River way, so Wash, you get us up in the sky. Dirt on this rock feels all kinds of unwelcome.” “Yes, sir, Captain,” Wash said, jogging to the stairs and hurrying up to the cockpit. “Kaylee, the engine’s gonna need ta be prepped for full burn.” “Gonna need a little help,” Kaylee said, nodding to her left arm in the sling. “Shepherd, I believe you’ve shown some expertise in that area.” “I’ll see what I can do,” Book said. “Shiny,” Kaylee smiled, turning around and heading to the engine room via the common area. Book followed. “Doc,” Mal continued. “I think now might be a good time ta get your sister outta her hiding place. Sure she’d be grateful.” “Yes, sir,” Simon said, veering off from what was left of the crew and heading towards the cargo bay panels that cleverly hid nooks and crannies perfect for smuggling. “Simon, I’ll help you,” Inara offered, before turning to Mal, “Unless you have a chore for me.” “Sorry,” Mal smiled down at her. “But no.” “What should we do, sir?” Zoë asked, after Inara walked away. “Well, Jayne, I’d be much obliged if you’d go start cleanin’ up the Infirmary.” “Aw, Mal,” Jayne groaned. “Ain’t that the Doc’s job?” “No, doctorin’s the doc’s job, cleanin’s everybody’s job. I didn’t say ya had ta do it all, just see if ya can’t get some of the blood off a the operating chair and such.” “Fine, fine,” Jayne muttered. “Zoë, you mind sendin’ a wave off to Trevor at Golden River, tellin’ him we’ll be arivin’ in ‘bout three days.” “Of course sir,” Zoë said, “And what are you going to do?” “Well,” Mal said taking a deep breath. “Spose I’ll do what Cap’in’s do the best.” “Wonder around and make sure everyone’s doing their job?” “Pretty much that, yeah.” “And after that sir?” “Well, Zoë, we’ll be on our way for a nice, calm, three day flight with no passengers, nothin’ much to do or worry bout ‘sept countin’ our money. I figure I’ll take a nap. Fact, I think I might order the whole crew to do the same. What do you think?” “Brilliant plan, sir,” Zoë said, smiling at him. “Yes, well,” Mal answered. “That’s why I’m the captain.” * * * The End * * *

Epilog or ‘I love you’

Book yawned as he headed up towards the kitchen. It was still early morning, so much as time meant anything on a space ship, and the rest of the crew was fast asleep. At the monastery he’d been harkened from his bed every day at dawn by carillon for the morning prayers. His first few weeks it had seemed hard, nigh impossible, a burden. But as Book’s devotion and faith grew he found himself longing for the stillness of his morning prayers more and more. The gratefulness he felt every morning to be alive, the hope that the new day held, the freshness of the world, still damp with dew, it was the best part of the day. The monastery may have been worlds away, but he was still grateful to be alive every time he woke up and each new day still held hope. And even if there was no dew in Serenity, and no true morning for that matter, he still enjoyed the quiet of the time before everyone else was awake. He was humming absentmindedly, more or less to the tune of “A World of Spirit’s Bright,” as he walked into the kitchen, where he usually made himself a cup of coffee and poured out prayers over all the ship. He moved, almost instinctively, to turn on the lights when a very soft voice said. “Don’t.” “River,” the shepherd gasped, drawing his hands away from the light switch. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” “Your family has no history of heart disorders, It would be very unlikely for you to have a heart attack,” River said dryly. “Don’t turn on the lights.” “Why not?” Book asked, stepping further into the room, away from the light switch and towards River, who was lying on the kitchen table illuminated by the light of the stars drifting past the skylight. “The light scares them away. It’s big and boorish and fake. They’re small. They can’t fight it, so they just go away.” “I see,” Book said as he stepped next to the table and looked up, “They are mighty pretty.” Book pulled a chair out and sat in it, angling it so he could stare up at the stars drifting past. The room fell into silence for a while. “You’re praying,” River said after a moment. “Yes, I am.” “Why?” “Because, I like to keep in touch with God, and I’m pretty sure He likes to keep in touch with me.” “What do you pray about?” “Oh, everything.” “That’s not specific.” “Do you want an example?” “Do you pray for us?” “For the ship and her crew, yes.” “So you pray for Simon.” “Yes.” “What do you pray for Simon? Be specific.” “River, what exactly are you asking?” The girl stared up at the stars for a few seconds more, examining them very critically, as if they could tell her how to answer her question. Then, very gracefully, she pushed herself up, so she was sitting on the table, and turned around, leaning forward so that she and Book were eye to eye. “Pray that he’s happy,” she said earnestly. “Please.” “Those really aren’t the kind of prayers . . .” Book started. “You have to,” River pleaded. “If you pray than God will do what you ask, because you’re a Shepherd. God will make Simon happy.” “That’s not the way it works,” Book said, a little mystified at River’s sudden exuberance in matters of faith. “Why is it so important to you that Simon be happy . . . wait, I know why it’s important to you. I guess I’m asking, why do you think I need to pray over it?” “He’s so sad,” River said. “He’s too sad. And he doesn’t want me to see it, but I can. It’s in his eyes.” “I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Book said compassionately. “They you have to pray and fix it,” River insisted. “River, you don’t pray to fix things. You pray so that you can keep in touch with God, so that you can have a relationship with your creator.” “If he created Simon than he can make Simon happy,” River said pragmatically. “It’s only a matter of brain chemistry.” “River, you’re missing the point.” The girl nodded and glanced away, she looked either furious or heartbroken: in the dim light the preacher couldn’t be sure. “I’ll not pretend to know your brother as well as you do,” Book said very carefully. “But Simon always struck me as the very sensitive sort. He has a very large heart.” River didn’t react to this observation, so Book pushed forward. “And while he definitely is sad, there is another, stronger emotion that I see in him. And that’s gratitude.” “He’s not happy,” River muttered. “No, but he’s grateful,” Book insisted. “Every time he looks at you he’s overwhelmed with gratitude. He’s grateful that he was able to get you out, grateful that you’re all right, grateful that he has the background to help you, grateful that he’s found a safe place to help you in. Most people, in his situation, would be bitter, would be angry, would curse God and man. But your brother is better than that, he can see what gifts he’s been given and he can be grateful for them.” “But he’s not happy,” River insisted. Book sighed, “In the monastery we had a saying, ‘Happiness only happens when your happenin’s happen to happen the way you want your happenin’s to happen.’ I’ll admit that your brother doesn’t have that. What he has is much better. Happiness comes and goes, the gratefulness, the joy that penetrates the sorrow, I see in your brother’s eyes every time he looks at you, that will stay forever.” “But he doesn’t smile,” River said. “He should smile.” “He smiles sometimes,” Book offered. “Kaylee makes him smile.” River sucked in a sharp breath and glared in the general direction of the engine room. “Oh,” the shepherd said softly. “Hit a sore spot, did we? Do you want to talk about it?” “No,” the girl snapped. “River, I really think . . .” “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care,” River said, her voice getting louder and shriller with every course. “Shhh,” Book scolded. “You’ll wake the others.” “I just want to make him happy,” River muttered. “I see,” Book said. “You want too make him happy.” The girl stared blankly at the floor for a moment before nodding. “Well,” Book said. “If you don’t mind, I do have a few suggestions I could offer.” River’s head didn’t move, but her eyes shifted from the floor to the preacher. Book took that as leave to continue. “As you noticed, Kaylee makes him smile, which ain’t so surprising, Kaylee makes everyone smile.” River kept eyeing the preacher cautiously. “I think it would mean a lot to Simon if you tried to make peace with her. It’s my understanding that you called her some pretty nasty things; I don’t think an apology would go amiss.” River shrugged vaguely and her eyes drifted back down to the floor. “’Course, I can’t think of anything that would make you’re brother happier than seeing you happy.” “River happy?” The girl asked, as if the concept was foreign to her. “I know there are things in your head,” Book said kindly as he reached out and gently turned her face so that she was looking in his eyes and could see that he really did care. “Demons, nightmares, voices you don’t want to hear. I know that you’re in pain. But the moments when who you are, when the real River shines through all that, those are the moments that make Simon happy.” “But I make him sad,” the girl insisted. “He loves you,” Book insisted. “That large heart I mentioned, it’s full of love for you. The reason he’s sad isn’t because he’s not a rich doctor anymore, and it’s not because he’s living on this small, shabby ship, it’s because you’re in pain.” “It’s my fault Simon’s sad,” River said matter-of-factly. “I know that.” “No,” Book sighed, “That’s not what I meant. I’m trying to tell you that your brother loves you, he loves you more than any empty happiness that comes with wealth or prestige or creature comforts. He’ll never be happy if he doesn’t have you.” “So what should I do?” the girl asked, there was a slight tremble of desperation in her voice. “Sweetheart,” Book said kindly. “You should let your brother know you love him.” “I don’t . . . I don’t know . . . don’t know how . . .” River stuttered. She was looking everywhere but at Book. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” Book soothed. “It’s just fine. Your brother knows you love him. I didn’t mean to upset you. I guess this morning I’m just not being a very effective comforter.” River seemed oblivious to the last bit, she was taking deep breaths in and out and staring at her hands. “Simon loves me,” she said very softly, as she shoved her hands deep into the sleeves of her nightgown. “And I love Simon.” “I know that’s true,” Book said, trying to pretend that the girl’s actions were not alarmingly bizarre. River laughed, softly, almost nervously, before standing up and running across the table and jumping gracefully off. “River,” Book said, slightly worried by her sudden change. “You can pray again,” The girl called over her shoulder as she ran through the ship, presumably back down to the passengers quarters where her brother was sleeping soundly. The shepherd wanted to chase after her, tell her to wait a few hours before she did . . . what ever her eclectic little mind chose to do. But he decided that, maybe, River was the best judge of her business. If she barged into her sleeping brother’s room jumped on his bed, woke him up and proclaimed loudly, “I love you!” that would surely make Simon smile. * * * “I’m sorry,” River said. Kaylee turned her head, surprised that the younger girl would even venture to the engine room, not to mention apologize. “What?” “I’m sorry,” River said again, her eyes dancing across the floor, her gaze not going anywhere near Kaylee. “I called you a Fury and you’re not. You’re not at all. I was . . . I mean, the books not real, none of us are who I said we were. I was confused.” “I know, sweetie,” Kaylee said, taking a step closer. “S’all right.” “No,” River said, shaking her head. “Because I was mean.” She glanced quickly at Kaylee. “I made you sad, made Simon sad,” her eyes returned to the ground. “I’m sorry.” “S’ok,” Kaylee said. The mechanic had swallowed her pride and forgiven Simon for River’s words a long time ago. It never even occurred to her that the poor confused girl would apologize. Kaylee had thought the prospect so impossible that she hadn’t even bothered to hold a little grudge. “Forgiven and forgotten.” River nodded and turned around, apparently finished. Kaylee took a step forward and watched, amazed, as she walked down the hallway. As if River knew she was being watched, she paused, right before turning to the steps. “If the book had been true, you would have been Thalia,” she said, before disappearing down the stairwell. * * * “Thalia,” Simon said. “I’ll have to look her up.” “I jus’ wanna know if she’s good,” Kaylee said, falling into step behind the doctor as he walked through the common room towards his quarters. “Well, I think she would be,” Simon said, over his shoulder, “Did River really apologize to you?” “Yuh-huh,” Kaylee said. “I thought you’d put ‘er up to it.” “No,” Simon said as he opened the door to his room, stepping aside so Kaylee could enter first. “Although, I think maybe I should have.” “Din’ expect it,” Kaylee said. “But it was so sweet.” “All right,” Simon said, pulling out his encyclopedia and inserting the tube for Arts and Literature. “Search: Thalia.” Kaylee walked over to Simon and peeked over his shoulder. “Well?” Simon scanned the entries, “I think this one’s it,” he said, pressing on one of the entries. Immediately a picture popped up. It was an oil painting in a very romantic style, with rich colors and the illusion of movement. It was of a woman wrapped in cloth with the exception of one of her breasts. There was a mask in her hand and her face was joyful, like she’d been caught in the middle of laughing. “Simon,” Kaylee scolded playfully, “What kinda ‘cyclopedia is this?” “Read,” Simon said, glancing sideways at Kaylee with playful annoyance. “One of the nine Greek Muses, Thalia, as portrayed here by Jean-Marc Nattier, was accredited with giving inspiration for joyful, playful, and idyllic poetry. Seen here with a comic mask, she is also portrayed with a crown of ivy and a crook. By Apollo, Thalia had the Corybantes, priests who castrated themselves in identification with the goddess, Cybele.” “Well,” Kaylee said after a moment, “’Sept fer that castratin’ thing, Thalia sounds like a pretty good person ta be.” “Yeah,” Simon said softly, sinking onto his bed. “River chose well.” “Are you saying I inspire you, Doctor?” Kaylee asked, sitting down next to him. Simon chuckled. “I guess.” “Really?” Kaylee asked, with a little wonder in her voice. “I’ve, ah, been thinking about what River said, about you giving me pedestrian dreams.” “Really,” she said again. “And you do,” Simon said glancing up into her eyes and quickly glancing away, very much like his sister had earlier. “I mean, I don’t . . .” he took a deep breath, brow knit as he tried to find the exact right words. Kaylee waited eagerly. “I imagine things,” he finally said. “Things I can’t have. A normal life, a family, a home. And, ah, you’re always part of those imaginings.” He looked up at her again, she was smiling sweetly down at him and, for some reason, he felt compelled to explain more. “Like I said, these are things I can’t have, things I know I can’t have,” he said quickly, looking at her with an almost stern expression. “I don’t want you to think that . . . that I think that these kinds of things . . . well, I . . . I don’t want any . . . misunderstandings.” Kaylee sighed and shook her head, “Too late fer that, Doc.” The boy looked almost frightened, “What do you mean?” “Yer life may not be what you think is normal,” Kaylee said frankly. “But you got a family an’ ya got a home here, on Serenity.” Simon’s expression melted into a smile, “Thank you.” “Now gimmie that,” Kaylee said, hiding her blush by grabbing the encyclopedia out of Simons hands. “I wanna look something up, wha’da I do, just say search an’ then . . .” “You push that button,” Simon said, scooting a little closer to her on the bed. “And yes, just say search and whatever it is you’re looking for. What are you looking for, by the way?” Kaylee cleared her throat before pushing the button Simon had shown her, “Search,” she said very clearly. “Twelfth Night.” Kaylee was surprised by how few results popped up. “That’s it?” “Well, Twelfth Night is one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays,” Simon said. “There’s not really much confusion about what you might be looking for. That is what you’re looking for, isn’t’ it?” “So, you know about the play?” Kaylee asked, ignoring the encyclopedia in her hand. “Yeah,” Simon said, “Why?” “Y’ever read it?” “When I was younger,” Simon continued. “I ask again, why?” “’Cause I been tryin’ ta read it,” Kaylee said, pulling a small, blue, hardbound book out of the pocket of her coveralls. “The words are prettier ‘en anything I’ve ever tried ta read,” She said, laughing a little nervously. “But, no matter how much I read ‘em, they don’t make no kinda sense.” “Where did you get this?” Simon asked, taking the book from her and carefully flipping through its pages. It was an older volume, printed in English, and someone had written notes in Chinese in the margins. It reminded Simon very much of something from his old life, something he would just find, lying around the house, something familiar, casual yet formal and comforting in its simple richness. “That book store back on Greenleaf,” Kaylee said. She was having a hard time telling what Simon was thinking, if he liked it or not. He was so consumed in flipping through the book that he didn’t even glance in her direction to offer a clue. “Manager said it was a good story, bout a brother an’ sister findin’ each other after they’d been separated. And, ah, he said it was a good romance too, actually, said it was a couple a good romances. And most important, there’s a happy ending.” “This is an amazing play, Kaylee,” Simon said, closing the covers and handing it back to mechanic. “Funny, romantic, suspenseful. You’ll love it.” The mechanic laughed, “I could never read a book like that.” “But why did you . . .?” “’S for you Simon,” Kaylee said. “Happy Birthday.” “My birthday was a month ago.” “Yeah, but I didn’t get a chance ta get ya anything ‘for then.” “You baked me a cake.” “You didn’ get any a it.” “That’s because the ship broke. That wasn’t your fault.” “I bought you a present, Simon,” Kaylee said, a little exasperated. “Can’t ya say thank you?” “I’m, I’m sorry,” Simon stuttered. “Yes, thank you.” He looked down at the book again, his fingers ran over the warn blue binding that still held the imprints of its gilded title even though the gold lettering had worn off long ago. “Thank you.” “Well, yer welcome,” Kaylee said primly, before scooting even closer to the doctor, so that their shoulders were touching, “Now, kin ya ‘splain ta me what some a them pretty word say?” “All right,” Simon said, opening the book and flipping through it critically. “What you looking for?” “The right passage,” Simon said. “Which passage would that be?” Kaylee said, looking at the text, barely comprehending a phrase here or there as Simon skimmed effortlessly over the text. “Ah,” Simon said slowly, a smile spreading across his face. “I think this one’s good.” “Go on,” Kaylee said eagerly. Simon cleared his through and straightened his back, “O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love’s coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man’s son doth know.” “So,” Simon said, closing the book and glancing over to Kaylee, who was smiling about as unabashedly as he’d ever seen her smile. “What part of that didn’t make sense?” “Oh, that bit I understood just fine.” * * * It was late, after dinner, and the crew of Serenity had wondered off to their prospective corners of the ship, settling into the night calmly and quietly. Inara and Kaylee had retreated to the companion’s shuttle, chatting, giggling, doing what normal girls did. River gave the shuttle a large breath. Jayne was working out in the cargo bay, lifting weights. She avoided him as well. The Captain, Zoë, Wash and Book were in the kitchen playing some card game River didn’t know the rules to. It seemed simple enough though, one was given two cards and they would continue to take cards until the total equaled 21. Because this rarely happened, the person who got closest to this total, without going over, appeared to be the winner. River watched for a few moments, but quickly realized that she would never be able to join such a game. There was an obvious component to it that she was missing. River knew that she could do the probability equations necessary to win much faster than anyone else playing the game, in fact they seemed to be ignoring those equations all together, but they were laughing, or tense or excited. She didn’t know what was creating those feelings and, as much as she wanted to ask, she didn’t want to sound stupid, sound daft. So she ventured down the stairs, away from the chuckling of the game, into the relative quiet of the common room, where Simon sat alone, lost in his little blue book. River hesitated at the foot of the stairs. All day what Shepherd Book had told her drifted in and out of her mind. She could make Simon happy if she could be his little sister, if she could breathe deep and swallow the pain, if she could keep straight for a little while which voices were hers and which weren’t. That seemed to make scene, until she tried to do it, then it seemed to be impossible. “River,” Simon said, shocking her out of her brooding. There was the hint of pleasant surprise in his voice. “I didn’t hear you come down.” The girl nodded. “Are you all right?” the doctor asked, closing his book and leaning forward, as if he was going to get up off of the couch. “You were very reclusive today.” “I didn’t know what to say,” the girl admitted quietly from her spot. “To me?” Simon asked, a little confused. She nodded. “River, I don’t care what you say,” he said, pushing himself up and walking over towards her. “You can tell me anything.” The words ‘I love you’ floated to the top of the girl’s consciousness. She opened her mouth, tried to force them out, but they seemed to get caught in her throat. “River, are you all right?” Simon said, reaching out for her. “You look . . .” “Stop,” the girl said, holding her hands in front of her, freezing him in his tracks. “You do too much and it should be her turn. That’s fair.” “What are you talking about?” Simon said, clearly confused. River took a couple of very measured breaths. Her fingers were moving as if she was playing the piano. “River,” Simon said, taking another step forward, reaching towards her. “If something is wrong I’d like to help.” The girl looked up, “You used to be Cinnamon,” she said cautiously, like a student unsure of the answer she was giving her teacher. Simon’s worry melted away into a soft smile, “You remember that.” “We made cookies, and I thought your name was Cinnamon. Proper nouns confused me.” “You were two, at most,” Simon said with wonder. “I can’t believe you remember that.” “I was afraid to roller-skate. I was afraid I would fall.” “Yeah,” Simon said. “You were five. You drew these diagrams of how you’re ankles would be broken,” he laughed. “You labeled the muscles.” “You wouldn’t slow down to talk to me unless I had my skates on.” “Yeah, one day I did that.” “Then you wouldn’t slow down to talk unless I was skating with you?” “In two day’s time you were skating better than I was.” River looked up, at him, smiling. “You’ve always been a clutz.” Simon nodded, he didn’t even notice the insult. “You got all the grace in the family.” “And all the brains,” “And all the pretty.” “You’re happy?” “About not being graceful, smart or pretty?” Simon asked. “I want you to be happy,” She said, a little of her mirth slipping into worry. “When you smile, I’m happy,” he said, reaching out and pushing some of her unruly hair away from her face. “I love your smile.” “I love you, Simon,” she said softly, looking him in the eyes. He smiled back down at her with a smile so warm and sincere that, for a second, it seemed like all the dark voices and evil phantoms that haunted her mind were scared away. For a second, she basked in Simon’s warmth. “I love you, too.” She leaned forward, falling into him, and felt his arms wrap around her, “I really, really love you,” she said with a little more confidence. “I’m certain, I really, really love you.” The Very End