I wrote this an eon ago for a Fan zine that never got off the ground, hence the shortness. Please don't ask for prequels or sequels – ‘cause the muse for this story fluttered away a long time ago. Thanks!

FOUND*

Simon was fading, all but dead, and River knew she couldn’t resurrect him. The body was still breathing, the heart was still beating, but his mind, the part of him that made him Simon, and not somebody else, was being taken; ripped out of him by blue hands that didn’t mind the fact their violence had left a mess. Like sister like brother. “I believe,” the shorter of the two blue-handed men said. “That he’s told us everything he knows.” The taller blue-handed man nodded and flipped the small, leather bound notebook closed. River watched, through tear soaked eyes, as the taller blue-handed man slid the notebook into his suit’s breast pocket. They used a notebook because transmitting what Simon had told them would be dangerous. Hackers can cut through even the most secure lines and steal the secrets Simon knew. Important secrets like how he had dreams about Kaylee and how he wished Mal would teach him how to fire a gun and how, sometimes, late at night, he said a prayer even though he didn’t really believe in God. There were other secrets too; less important ones about how much he’d paid the men who’d stolen River and the address of the warehouse on Persephone where he’d retrieved her. All the secrets were safe inside that notebook. Nobody would know them who wasn’t supposed to. The shorter blue-handed man walked up to the small table beside Simon’s chair that held all the needles. There had been lots of needles, River thought. Simon’s forearms were already covered with grayish purple bruises. But then, the blue-hands had always liked needles. They’d used needles to rip River apart, back at the academy, to kill her just like they were killing Simon right now. He’d saved her, of course, because he was brave and good. River wanted to be brave and good, too. She wished with all of her young, terrified heart, that she could defy the blue-hands and rescue Simon the way he’d rescued her. But she couldn’t. The blue-hands could do such terrible things – just thinking about remembering hurt so much she couldn’t breathe. So she was frozen, scared stiff, unable to do little more then watch and cry as what little bits of Simon were left, battered, bloody fragments that had somehow been overlooked, would soon be brought up for execution. “No,” River whimpered. “If you steal a star all that’s left is a black hole and the whole universe gets sucked into the cold and the darkness.” River’s warning was ignored. The shorter blue-handed man picked up an empty syringe and pulled back the plunger, filling the barrels with air. The bits of Simon that hadn’t been stolen saw death coming. His glazed over, unfocused eyes widened, just a little, with fear. He saw death in that syringe. Not the kind of death River was used too, the kind that ended when Simon pulled her close to him and told her over again ‘It’s over, you’re safe, there’s nothing to fear’ – a mantra that became more and more true each time it was uttered. The blue-hand was holding a new kind of death, the kind of death that didn’t lift with the sunrise. River understood that, when the blue-hand injected Simon with air, the gas would race through his blood to his heart and stop it cold. All of him, even the little pieces they’d missed, would be irretrievably dead and her universe would be nothing more then the crushing cold darkness of a black hole. As frightened as she was of the blue-hands, she still made the blazing realization that the worst thing they could do to her, the only thing that she truly needed to fear, was Simon dying. The young girl was suddenly aflame. “NO!” River shouted, springing up from her spot on the floor. They’d forgotten about her, dismissed her as impotent the moment that they’d bound her hands, trusting the fear they’d cultivated to keep her from interfering. They were stupid. They, more then anyone else in the universe, River included, knew what she could do. They shouldn’t have been surprised when she killed them. “The star is fading,” she told the shorter blue-handed man as she snapped his spine with one quick kick. He fell forward onto the tables with the needles, screaming like a normal human would, but it only lasted a moment because as soon as he rolled off the table and hit the ground she jumped on his neck, crushed his trachea with her big boots. While he was still technically alive, he would be dead in a matter of minutes. “You can’t steal light,” she continued as she knelt down and picked up a particularly large and almost grotesque needle. It was larger then it had to be. It was so big because they liked it when the needles hurt. “It’s not fair, and it’s not right,” she said coldly turning to the second blue-hand, furious tears washing down her face. He fumbled through his pockets, looking for his little blue wand of death, planning to use it on her, her and Simon. But he was afraid and he wasn’t thinking. He’d finally remembered that she was the dangerous one, not Simon, and that realization filled his mind. Unfortunately for him, he remembered too late. She was so small, and he was so large, but that didn’t matter. She was the dangerous one. “Because it’s not your light to steal. Light is for everyone but you want to put it in your little jars.” She threw the too-big needle like a dart and hit the man’s throat, puncturing his carotid artery. The blue-hand screamed and did something very stupid, he pulled out the needle quickly, which only worsened the rupture and made him bleed more. She had to yell to keep his attention as the blood loss made him fall first to his knees, and then on his face. “Fireflies buzz around outside and you beg to go catch them even though it’s past your bedtime. Then you put them in the jar but you forgot to punch holes in the tops and everything beautiful suffocates before it can starve. But tonight the jars fell down and the light will break free and then you’ll be burned and the radiation will go though you and poison you and everyone will see. And all that will be left will be your shadow and no one will care!” She stopped talking and the room was jarringly silent. Death had found both of the blue-handed men and taken them off to the cold darkness of a black hole. River giggled softly to herself. The sound echoed of the walls and gave her the confidence to laugh out loud. The bare room was quickly full of her joyful and triumphant laughter. “Simon, I did it!” she yelled gleefully, running up to her brother and climbing on his lap. “I took the light and I made it sharp and sliced through their fingers and . . .” he wasn’t responding. Her laugh disappeared. “And . . . Simon?” Her heart suddenly felt like a stone. Just because those thieves stealing the light had been stopped, didn’t mean the sun had returned to its radiance. Simon was still fading. “No,” River whimpered, cupping his face in her hands, forcing his dull eyes to look at her and yelling so that the little bits of him that hadn’t been ripped to shreds could hear. “You can’t die!” He didn’t respond, not even the tinciest little bit of him. “You can’t,” River insisted, tears once again slipping out of her eyes as she drew her knees up to her chest, curling herself into a ball and laying her head on her brother’s shoulder. “The sun goes out and darkness falls to eat us all. Cold freezes our bones and cracks our skin so that all that’s left is hard blue ice.” * * * “Captain!” Zoë’s clear voice yelled, bouncing off the walls of the abandoned detention center. “Got a locked door!” “Let’s see if we can unlock it then,” Mal said as he started jogging towards his first mate. They’d found the abandoned center on a tip from a local who’d said a strange, very high tech, space ship had landed off in that general direction. Because they’d had nothing better to go on, and because Mal’s gut told him every second the hapless Tams were missing was a second closer to their premature death, he hurried to the spot. The local was right, there was a high tech ship docked right in front of the old building, and Wash said it was definitely the same style as the one that had come to collect the kids from Ariel. Mal couldn’t figure out whether or not that was good news. With such a big complex, he’d expected lots of guards, but there were none. All there was were hundreds of empty room and the eerie echoes of their own footsteps. “All right,” Mal said once he reached Zoë and the locked door. “What we got? ” “Seems to be a steel door,” Zoë said. “My guess is three inches deep, with a full bolt lock.” “Tamade choulou gougou miandui segui ,” Mal spat. “We gotta get in there.” “Why?” Jayne asked. “They probably ain’t even in the room.” “Zoë, you wouldn’t happen to have a grenade on you by any chance?” “Always keep one handy, sir,” Zoë said, handing him the compact explosive. “If you weren’t married I’d kiss you,” Mal told her with a smile. “Wash’ll be glad you showed restraint,” Zoe replied. “I bet,” Mal muttered. “But I ain’t gonna be glad ‘till we crack this door, so lets get to it people.” Minutes later the lock was blasted to pieces and the steel door swung open. Mal didn’t wait for the dust to clear before he ran in the room. And, it seemed, his impatience was rewarded, because River was standing in the middle of the room to greet him. The girl was trembling, with her hands bound in front of her. Tears streamed out of her red rimmed eyes, creating little streams through the dirt on her face. “River,” Mal said, hurrying towards her. He felt like he could breathe for the first time since the kids got took. “You all right?” “I’m alone,” she said in a near whisper. “What happened to Simon?” “He’s in here,” the young girl said, holding up a small, leather bound notepad. Mal took it out of her hands and realized it was soaked in blood. Once again, he felt worry wrap her long, cold hands around his chest. “River,” he said, moving so that his eyes locked with hers. “Where is your brother?” “They took him, bit by bit,” River explained. “And the bits they wanted they put in there. The bits they didn’t want they ripped up,” her voice was becoming hysterical. “And the light spilled out and darkness is rolling in and I can’t put the bits back so the light is fading and . . .” “Zoë,” Mal called over his shoulder. “Take her.” “ . . . the black hole will pull me in and crush me to a gooey paste and they’ll put it on their toast.” “Hey sweetie,” the first mate said, stepping up besides Mal. She reached out to the girl, who was now shaking violently, and pulled her into a protective hug. “It’s okay, everything’s all right now.” “They broke the sun and I’m going to go blind and my fingers will fall off from the cold.” “Hush,” Zoe said, pressing the girl closer too her, rocking slightly. “It’ll all be all right.” “Where the hell’s Simon,” Mal muttered, turning for the first time to examine the rest of the room. “Maybe he’s one a those guys over there,” Jayne said, pointing to the darkest corner of the dimly lit chamber. Mal turned and saw a limp body tied to a chair and two more lying haphazardly on the ground. “Only one way to know,” Mal said as he turned and jogged towards the bodies. However, discovering that it was indeed the doctor tied to the chair did very little to relieve Mal’s worries. The kid’s eyes were closed, his mouth was open and his usually pale skin was ashen gray. His breathing was so shallow that it evaded detection and the only way they knew he was even alive was Zoë got lucky and found a pulse. Even more unsettling then Simon’s state were the two bodies at the boy’s feet. Two men wearing blue latex gloves had been killed quickly and viciously – apparently by River. “Two by two with hands of blue,” the girl explained to Mal as Jayne and Zoë worked to free the unconscious Simon from his chair. “Two by two they’ll come for you. Two by two, what can you do? Two by two it can’t be true. Two by two, say adieu.” Mal turned to look at her. The poor girl’d been forced to watch as her brother was tortured, practically to death. And then, probably to save his skin and her’s, she killed those tortures with her bare hands. All the horror that sort of thing entailed was painted in her large brown eyes. Mal swallowed the lump that was rising in throat as he placed a hand on the crown of her head, letting it slide down her nappy brown hair. “Two by two,” he told her. “Ain’t gonna touch you.” * * * Simon, as it turned out, was interesting reading. Not the boy himself, of course. He’d been placed in his bed. Mal considered putting him in the infirmary, but with no doctor and no clue as to what it would take to bring the kid back from the edge of death, there didn’t seem much point. Jayne, not surprisingly, hadn’t seen the point of bringing the boy back to the ship at all. “He’s all but dead, Mal,” the mercenary’d said. “Why take the risk?” The answer was simple. Simon wasn’t dead. And if the boy was going to die, which seemed likely, he might as well die like a human being, with those who loved him ‘round his bedside and all the right prayers being said, not tied to a chair in an abandoned building off on the edges of space. And there was the chance that Simon would pull through, what with Kaylee’s attentive nursemaiding and Book’s continual supplications to the Almighty. And Mal was too good captain to give up on his crew. “Mal?” The captain started, and turned towards the voice. Inara was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She looked tired, but all the more lovely for it. “Want company?” Mal closed the small blood soaked book holding Simon’s interrogation, and smiled up at her. “Are you offering me companionship?” Inara chuckled as she walked down the stairs. “You know the rules.” “Just talking then, huh?” Mal asked, craning his neck so he could keep his eyes on her as she walked behind him to the stove. “Is this coffee fresh?” “Relatively,” Mal answered. That must have been good enough for the companion. She took a tin mug out of the cupboards and poured herself a cup. “Are you still reading that book?” Inara asked as she walked back to the table and took the seat to the right of Mal, who was in his place at the head of the table. “It’s something to do,” Mal said casually. “Only book in this whole place River ain’t made corrections on.” “It seems a little gruesome,” Inara noted. “What with it being soaked in blood and all.” “Cold blooded Alliance child torturers don’t skimp,” Mal said. “It’s a well made little volume. Blood may’ve dried on the cover, but the pages are still readable. “What do you think you’ll learn?” Inara asked. “Simon told you—” “Didn’t tell me everything,” Mal said with a low, heavy voice. “He lied to you?” She asked, her voice somewhere between disbelieving and shocked. “I said, he didn’t tell me everything,” Mal said as he drummed his thumbs absentmindedly on the book’s warped cover. “But then, can’t fault him. I didn’t ask.” Inara nodded and, for a second, seemed to be pondering that bit of information. When she turned to him, he could see a dark seriousness in her eyes, “What did you find out?” “River was right,” Mal said. His tone was just as dark, and just as serious. “This book is Simon.” “What?” Inara asked. “Kid spilled his guts,” Mal said. “Said everything he ever knew, everything he ever thought. Truth be told, Kaylee’d probably sell her soul for a glimpse at some of these pages.” “And how does it look for our young mechanic?” Mal laughed. “With so many wily women about, I find myself thinking we men ought to stick together.” “So, she’s mentioned?” “We’re all mentioned,” Mal said very seriously. “By our gorramn names, described to the finest detail. The ship, she’s mentioned too. This book ever found its way back to those it’s meant for, it’d be our death warrant.” “You hid fugitives,” Inara said with a nervous laugh. “No court in the ‘verse would sentence you to execution.” “Which court sentenced Simon to death?” Mal asked sharply. “’Cause I can guarantee you it’d be the same court that’d try us.” Inara turned her lovely eyes to the dark depths of her coffee. “What will you do?” she eventually asked. “Hope the boy pulls through,” Mal said solidly. “But, either way, keep living like we have been.” “Isn’t that dangerous?” "Nah, I got the confession, and those who heard it are dead. No harm done. 'Sides there have been some close calls already, but we’ve done well so far. I figure we’ll pull through.” “That seems a little naive,” Inara said. “You clearly think that powerful people want us dead.” “You might be right,” Mal said. “But I can keep these kids, or I can loose them. I keep them they’re a risk to us all. I let them go and they’ll get caught in a heartbeat. And I got no doubts that the same thing will happen, only this time no one will come to the rescue. Simon will die, God knows what’ll happen to River, and we’ll still be hunted down ‘cause we know.” “What do we know?” Inara asked. “That’s the thing. They don’t know. And they don’t care. They’re scared stiff we might know something, and that’s enough.” The companion looked at him, confused, and just a little afraid. “This book,” Mal said, tapping the blood soaked object in front of him. “It’s filled with blither. Simon told everything and, honestly, it ain’t that interesting. Lots about River’s brain, but nothing that means anything to ninety nine point nine percent of taxpayers. Lots about this ship, but mostly musings on Kaylee’s pretty laugh and Jayne’s crude manners. Lots about how he stole his sister away, but mostly how scared he was, and how much he’d given up. Nothing in this book reveals anything of universal interest. Nothing in it warrants killing the one who made such bland confessions.” A rush a shivers overcame Inara, and she sucked a deep breath through her teeth. “You might think I’m a weakly woman,” she explained. “But, having to seriously consider all this . . . I can’t help but be frightened.” “You ain’t weakly,” Mal told her. “You’re smart. Fear’s the only response makes any sense.” * * * Mal paused at the open door to Simon’s room and listened, for a moment, to the laughter, Kaylee’s high-pitched giggles were pleasantly offset by Simon’s lower chuckles. Together, Mal thought, they made a nice warm sound. If he didn’t know better, the captain would never have guessed that only two days ago the doctor had been about as lively as a wilted radish. But on Tuesday River looked up from her dinner with a wildly joyful gleam in her eye. “He’s awake,” she said as she jumped from the table and ran downstairs. For once, the girl’s bizarre behavior begged no explanation. Everyone, even Jayne, left their dinners and rushed to Simon’s room, where Book was quietly praying over the boy. He’d opened his eyes, which were so bloodshot that the whites were actually red, and he’d seen his sister’s face, and he’d smiled. That was the moment Mal’d known everything was going to be just shiny. “It is too,” Kaylee insisted through her laughing. “Ask anybody. “No,” Simon answered. “The encyclopedia doesn’t have it.” “Come on,” Kaylee urged. “I let you keep Hemodialysis.” “Because that’s a word.” “So’s Grizwalt” “She’s right,” Mal said, sauntering into the room. Simon was sitting up in his bed. His skin still looked eerily grayish but the red was gone from his eyes and he was smiling, which was a nice change from the slight grimace of pain that’d been on his unconscious face. Kaylee was smiling too, despite the fact that her scrabble word was being called into question. She’d pulled her chair as close to bed as possible and had the board balanced on her lap. “Told ya,” Kaylee said, punching Simon very gently on the arm, before she turned and said. “Hey Cap’in.” “Good morning, Captain,” Simon echoed, just as warmly. “Thing is,” Mal continued as he walked over to Kaylee and looked at the board. “You got it spelled wrong. Last letters a D not a T.” “Oh!” Kaylee said excitedly. “I got one a them.” She quickly switched the letters and clapped in excitement. “Got and extra point. Three, actually, ‘cause its on a triple score space.” “All right,” Simon said. Clearly her small victory didn’t annoy him, he was smiling as he tallied the score. “How much’m I losin’ by now?” Kaylee asked. “Only sixty three points,” Simon said. “You keep this up and you’ll give me a run for my money.” “As much as I would like to see that, it ain’t gonna happen just now. It’s time Simon and I had a little chat.” Both kids’ smile’s slipped. “Guess I better get, then,” Kaylee said, carefully lifting the game from her lap so as to not disturb any of the tiles. She turned to Simon and kissed him on the cheek, which produced a blush despite his ashen face. “We’ll finish this later.” “Thanks Kaylee,” he told her as she left the room. She glanced back at him and smiled. It wasn’t her usual cute, sweet smile nor the type of smile she’d ever favored her Captain with, although he thought there was a chance that Bester might have seen it. Once she was gone, a heavy silence settled in the room. Simon wasn’t stupid, the boy’d probably been waiting for this talk from the moment he’d figured out what had happened to him. Mal grabbed the back of the chair Kaylee’d been sitting in and pulled it back from the bed a bit before he sat down. Simon watched, and Mal thought he saw a sort of determined foreboding in the boy’s eyes. “So,” Mal asked, leaning forward. “What do you remember?” “Nothing,” Simon said, a note of apology in his voice. “Nothing?” “I remember the Marketplace on Jin Shanding ,” Simon offered. “And then everything . . . It’s – it’s like when you wake up slowly from a dream. There’s not an end, really, just . . .” “I take it you’ve been thinkin’ about this,” Mal said with a note of approval. “I need to know what happened,” Simon said earnestly. “I need to know what gave us away, where we were careless, because it can’t happen again.” “You asked River?” “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what they did to her and I’d . . . I don’t want to force her to confront things that she’d . . . things she’s not ready to face.” “If it’s any consolation, doctor,” Mal said. “I don’t think they did much more then tie her hands. Which is not saying they wouldn’t have gotten around to it. But first they wanted to get everything they could outta you.” The foreboding in the boy’s eyes turned to fear. “What do you mean?” “Ever heard of Pentothal Sodium?” Simon looked terrified, his lips barely moved when he said, “Yes.” “See, I hadn’t. I took the liberty of looking it up in that encyclopedia of yours. Turns out, it’s called thiopental sodium among the more scientific communities and then, ‘mongst people like us, it’s simply called the truth serum.” “What did I say?” Simon asked nervously. “Some very interesting things,” Mal said. “But you see, according to the Cortex, Pentothal Sodium only makes people more communicative, less inhibited. You had this long discourse on how many times you could’a killed Jayne, but didn’t, and he ain’t never gonna know. Truthfully, it was the funniest thing I’ve read in a good long while.” “While I’m glad you find my tortured ramblings amusing, Captain, I can’t help but think that there’s more.” “There is,” Mal nodded seriously. “A lot more. What do you know about Sodium Amytal?” “Um,” Simon said. “It’s a barbiturate, makes you go to sleep.” “Makes you forget how to conjugate verbs,” Mal supplied. “Must a drove your interrogators nuts.” “They combined drugs?” Simon asked, mortified. “Why not?” Mal asked. “It’s a hell of a lot easier then beating a confession out of a man.” “Did I . . . ?” “Still held you’re mouth shut,” Mal said. “What you did say was mostly a lot of gibberish.” Simon looked vastly relived. “’Course,” the captain added. “That was only until they pumped you full of Scopolamine.” Simon winced, as if the needle containing the drug had, at that moment, been pushed into his skin. “I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded so heartbroken, any mild inclination Mal had had towards being mad at the boy was instantly gone. “Weren’t your fault,” Mal said, patting the boy reassuringly on the shoulder. “You were tied to a chair and injected with powerful drugs. Some things a man can’t fight, and I happen to think that might be one of them.” “It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault,” Simon said, looking up at the captain with a cold, almost suicidal conviction in his eyes. “River and I have to leave.” “Now,” Mal said slowly. “How do you figure that?” “We’re putting you all in danger,” Simon said. “As long as we’re on this ship, everyone’s in danger.” “You seem to think this is a new thing?” Simon glanced down at his hands. “I just . . . it never . . . I didn’t . . . didn’t want to realize how dangerous this was, for everyone. “You leave, it don’t decrease the danger,” Mal said. “Alone, out there, you two are sure to get nabbed. And they have the power to break you.” “I’m sorry,” Simon said, clearly ashamed. “You can’t not tell, Simon, regardless of how strong you are, that's been proved,” Mal said. “Then they’ll hunt us down no matter what, ‘cause we know what they’ve done.” Simon looked thoroughly horrified, which was appropriate. The situation the boy had to live in for the rest of his life was, indeed, a horrific one. “Do you know what this is?” Mal asked, holding up the old, blood caked notepad. Simon shook his head silently. “It’s your confession,” Mal said, opening the little book and flipping through the pages. “Every damn word. And,” he added lightly, looking towards Simon, “I’m pretty sure it’s the only copy. Couldn’t find no transmitters on your interrogators’ bodies and there wasn’t time to make any hard copies, nor, for that matter, anyone to give them too.” He closed the book and tapped it lightly on the palm of his hand. “So, far as I can figure, this is the only evidence of what happened, of what you said.” The young man swallowed hard and found the courage to look at the Captain, “What are you going to do with it?” “River told me that this book was you,” Mal said. “So, I think it’s only right that you decide what to do with it.” Mal held the little book out to Simon and, after a moment, the doctor took it. “So this is me?” Simon asked. He was trying to sound light, make a joke, but the lump in his throat he’d tried to swallow a minute ago was still there and it made his voice sound thin and stretched. “No,” Mal said. “It’s your interrogation. Nothin’ but words that can’t do no harm no more.” Simon nodded gravely. There was another long bit of silence as Simon stared at the little bloodstained book. “Um, Captain,” he finally said, turning towards Mal. “If, if you don’t mind, I’d, ah . . . “ “Like a few minutes alone with yourself,” Mal said, standing. “I understand.” “Offer Kaylee my apologies,” Simon asked. “’Course,” Mal said, nodding. “I’ll see she’s busy ‘til dinner.” “Thank you, Mal,” Simon said, truly meaning it. “Naw,” Mal said causally, pretending he hadn’t heard the well of emotion in the young man’s voice. “She’s been so busy here with you Serenity’s been all but ignored. It’s high time the girl spent some quality time with the engine.” “Not just with distracting Kaylee,” Simon said. “But, for everything. For coming back for River and me, again and again . . . for the last year, thank you.” Mal cleared his throat. Why the hell did the boy have to wear his heart on his sleeve like that? “Yeah, well,” Mal muttered as he turned his back on Simon and walked out of the room. “Weren’t noting.”

The End