Simon stormed about his infirmary, pushing in drawers and various hospital-y things with equal abandon, happy at the rather loud BANG that came with each slamming door. Kaylee stood off to the side, mesmerized. This was only the second time that she had seen the good Doctor actually angry. Given that, he made up for it by being exceptionally vehement today. “But wait,” she said to him over the dirge of metal and plastics. “Why would anyone do this at all?” “Simple,” stated Simon as he slammed another drawer in with unmatched vigor. “In the name of peace, prosperity, and sadism.” “But, this don’ make no sense a’ all. If there’s millions on it, and only a tenth a percent get Reaver-fied…” “No, you don’t get it!” He slammed another draw in, not caring to the rattling of his precious instruments. “On Miranda, it was one part Pax per billion regular air. Now, its over sixty ruttin’ percent of the stuff in the gorram stik. So the result would be something like half turned Reavers.” Kaylees normally cheery face paled considerably. “Wo de mah…Simon, I didn’ know…” “Now you know how I feel…AH!” He pulled his right hand back, clutching it to him. On the counter, the scalpel lay there, grinning at him in the dimly lit room. He hadn’t washed his hands. It’s always the little things that come back to bite you in the ass, he thought as he looked at the scarlet ribbon of life that seeped up from the wound. It wasn’t grave, nor very deep. But he didn’t like the idea of those little Pax crystals swilling about in his bloodstream. He looked at Kaylee, ashamed of his earlier tirade at her. “Kaylee, I’m sorry, I-“ She cut him off with a kiss. “Shhhh…s’alrigh’.” He held out his cut hand. “I should really clean this out…” She smiled slyly at him. “It can wait.” His defenses sagged under her smile. Oh, well. It really could wait… Inside him, the deadly cancer of traveling crystals traveled in his blood. Unbeknownst to either, this would tear their lives apart, these little details of life under a broken government and God… *** Her life was dead. The flames that engulfed her home were all that would lend her any comfort, and that was only in a fiery death and a grave of ashes. Her Mother was in there, dead from smoke and fire. All she had owned burned in the inferno. She didn’t remember much, not much about this doom that heaped its glory and gore upon her. There was an explosion, from the bar, she was certain. There was a lot of yelling and jostling. She had been in the market at the time. Not six blocks away, and she had felt the heat of the explosion. She had run there, only to find that her Mother was dead inside, killed by the smoke and flames. Even Billy was taken from her. Her brother, three years her junior…gone off with some pirates from the bar. Normally, she would have felt hope, harbored it for his survival. But she was incapable of harboring more than the hopes that the fire would reach her where she knelt in the mud and sand of the road. She felt the shuttle land next to her, not with just her ears though. She felt the sand lash cruelly across the skin of her arm. She tasted the grit from the blown sand and road dust. She saw the clouds blown by the engines and thrusters. She smelt the oil and the fumes from the exhaust. Out of the open ramp came a man in a browncoat. He was coughing and cursing something fierce. “Gorramit, girl, you tryin’ ta get yerself killed?!?!” He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, hauling her into the shuttle. He coughed a bit more, then punched a button that closed the ramp. He yelled something at the cockpit. She didn’t hear it. Someone yelled back, and the shuttle took off. She didn’t care. Inside the shuttle lay the body of her younger brother, Billy Sheridan. She knelt over him. She thought that she had expended all her tears ten years ago, when her Parents had got a divorce amongst a great scandal with her father’s mistress… But now, three silver orbs, tinged golden by the fire light, fell heavily onto Billy’s body, wrenched free of her closed eyelids. A small, childish part of her half expected for him to get up again, to comfort her, to tell her everything was alright… But he lay still, body drained of its lifeblood. She took his hand and held it to her chest. The man in the browncoat came back. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, that felt as cold and lifeless to her as the one she held cradled to her chest. “He went bravely, if it’s any comfort to ya.” “It doesn’t.” “So, I take it you’re the sister that he told us ‘bout.” “Yeah. So, how’d his murderers get that out of him, hmmm? Torture?” she asked bitterly. The man pulled back his arm as if stung. “Hey! Wasn’t I that killed him, was th’Alliance. I ain’t even drew but once today, an’ didn’ do no shootin’!” She looked at him. “Why should I believe you?” “Why shouldn’t you?” Despite herself, she was beginning to trust this man. Something about his voice, and maybe his eyes… He held out his hand. “Mal Reynalds.” She took it. “Cassandra Sheridan.” They shook, and then Mal called out again. “’Nara, come’n give this girl some comfort, would’ya? I’ll take the helm!” A rather well ornamented head popped out, followed by an equally breathtaking body, all draped in silk and satin. Mal gestured to the woman. “Cassandra Sheridan, meet Inara Serra. Cassandra, Inara, Inara, Cassandra. If ya’ll will excuse me…” He headed into the cockpit. Inara knelt down beside Cassandra, who had never moved from her brothers side. She took the girls hand in one of her own. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” She had an idea, but thought it could be wrong. It was. “I, that is, we…everyone onboard Serenity…we had started all this. You see, we had spread the truth about the Alliance, that they were the ones to create the Reavers. One of us died in the attempt, and another one of us, a Shepard, he was murdered on Haven. So, this, all of this, is probably started by us, Billys death, the fire…” She trailed off, looking rather helpless. “Wait, in the fire…before it started, there was an explosion that set it off, from the bar. You have an explanation for that?” “In the bar, there was a store of drugs used to lure us here, on a job. They probably were destroying evidence.” “Strange work for a Companion, getting into jobs along sides pirates.” “Mal is not a pirate! And the crew…well, theres Jayne, but hes a merc, so that doesn’t count…but there not pirates! There…a transport for higher.” “A broad term, that.” “Sure, but-“ Her response was stopped by the shuttle jerking to the right, followed by the ramp opening up-over the raging inferno below. Mal stepped out from the cockpit, looking determined. “Mal…” “Inara, take the helm, alrigh’? Soon as this is done, I look to be speedin’ outta here all fast as can be.” He went over to the resident corpse and picked it up, straining with the deadweight. He half walked, half stumbled to the ramp edge. He looked into Cassandra’s eyes, and she nodded. She knew what he meant to do. With a heave and a grunt, Mal threw the body of the martyred boy over the side, into the hottest part of the fire. Flames engulfed him, and the sound of the billowing flames was his only epitaph. Mal stepped back, closed the ramp. He looked to Cassandra. “You got any family hereabouts?” She shook her head. “No…theres only my father on Ariel.” “Fine, then. We’ll make a stopover in Ariel, and find your Pa.” “But I don’t-“ “Ah, no thanks are necessary.” *** Zoë kicked in the bar door. She stepped in, followed by her heavily armed compatriots. ‘Cept for River, but River was better than a lot a guns. She and Jayne waved their weapons at anyone who wasn’t plastered, who usually were on the floor anyhow. The semi-sober ones followed suit, ‘cept for one boy, who was looking interestedly at River, who was looking back equally. Does good for a girl to have a admirer now an’ then… Cap’n went and stuck his pistol into the barmans face, a not quite so old geezer. He had the sense to look terrified. Mal said in his dangerous (kinda) voice, “You tell me where Revera is.” “Honest, suh, I dunno who you speak of!” “Ricky the Fish.” The Cap’n stuck the gun at the tip of his nose. Seeing wisdom in the gesture, or in at least not having half his ugly mug blown off, he exclaimed, “Oh, Ricky the Fish! Yeah, he went North, to the next town!” Mal pulled the gun back into a not so threatening position. “S’all I wanted t’know. Thanks.” He turned around, watching for a moment as Jayne, and Zoë went around the bar slowly, making sure that there were no sundry nasties waiting for them on the way out. An’ River was still looking into that gorram boys eyes! “Alrigh’, time to go. NOW!!” he shouted when River didn’t move a bit. She right near jumped out of her skin at that. The two teens looked at each other a last time before she went out. As they got into the mule, she shot Mal a dirty look. “What?” he said, bewildered. Then, lo an’ behold, the kid came boundin’ out after them, looking a mite mussed up. He was a rather tall boy, with green eyes and brown hair. “Wait, sir, wait!!!!” Jayne came outta the blue and caught him by the ruff, looking real displeased at him for messing up there get away plan. ‘Course, he shoulda expected something, Mals plans being not what they aren’t, which is to say, foolproof. “What, boy?” he growled, aye, growled into the lads ear. The kid looked at Jayne and almost but not quite looked scared (almost), and then looked at Mal. “Um, sir, you shouldn’ believe him, the barmans in Reveras pocket. B-but I can show ya the way, a secret route that no one knows ‘bout!” “Hmmm…an intrestin’ proposition…River, he fibbin’?” Mal looked at Jayne, who dropped the boy onto the ground, where he landed on his pretty face. Smooth. “Hes fine,” said River after a moment, shorter a time than she usually needed. “Works for me,” said Mal. “Now, are you ‘spectin’ any type of pay for this, cuz we are a bit short on money at the moment, truth do tell.” “Oh no, I ain’t expectin’ no pay.” Jayne smiled happily. “Works for me!” They didn’t get nothin’ for free at all often, a sad state of affairs. Ignoring the ecstatic merc, Mal put forward his hand. “Hello, I’m Mal Reynalds. This is Jayne, Zoë, an’ you’ve met my pilot, River.” The boy took Mals hand and sealed his doom. “Billy Sheridan.” *** The shuttle pulled in quickly, not bothering to break the radio silence Mal had imposed. Worryingly, the engine wasn’t anywhere near started. The shuttle formed a lock. Everyone was crowding around the ladder when Mal came down, except for Abulurd, but he could be excused on account of his relative bloodlessness. First down came Mal. Then Inara. Then, Cassandra came down, clad in one of Inaras silks. Shepard Book would have called her…gifted. Jayne would say she had big hooters. Mal looked at the five assembled crew. “Hello all. This is Cassandra, Billys brother. Cassandra, crew, crew, Cassandra. And River, why the hell ain’t we prepped for takeoff?” “Captain, we’re landlocked.” Mal cursed himself for stupidity. He should have expected this. He went past River, who followed, knowing his order before he spoke it, which he then didn’t as he would then be repeating himself. Psychics are confusing to have on board. Simon went up to Cassandra. He felt her pulse. “Shes in shock. I have something for that, in the infirmary. Come with me, please.” He took her by the shoulders and steered her to the ‘firmary. She gave him a look. Kaylee saw that look. She perfected that look, over the eight months her doctor had been onboard acting his unique mixture of noble and stupid. It said, plain as the day, Hi, you’re cute, I like you. Wanna go rutt somewhere? No, she told herself. Don’ go an think that. Simon loves me; he’d never leave me… Mal and River went past the infirmary, Mal storming alternately at River, Serenity, and his own stupidity. Suddenly, River stopped. She cocked an ear to the prone man in the chair thingy. Then she went in. She put her ear over the guys face, and it occurred to Mal that he may be whispering to her. She finally stood up, gave him a firm nod to both of the older men, then rushed off in the direction of the cockpit. Mal watched her leave, contemplating whether to follow or not. But a noise came from behind him, he turned and looked at the prone man who he owed his life, and the lives of his crew at least two times over. The ship lurched off the ground, and not a moment too soon, in Mals view. He smiled. Okay, three times. But he also owed Mal the lives of Book, Wash, everyone on Haven, and a passel of other folk who Mal had been privileged to call his friends. “Mal, Mal,” said the former Operative. His voice was barely a whisper, barely audible. Mal decided to listen and leaned over him. “Mal, please, after…after Serenity, who did you go on?” He gave a shuddering gasp. All possibilities raced through Mals mind. He could leave the room. He could shoot this man, this monster, murderer, savior, and hero combined. He could pull out one of the lines that fed this man his blood. “I found something to believe in.” Mal turned on his heel and walked away. *** The road was tree-lined, bumpy. And, their guide and guard were not looking out for them, being too engrossed in staring at one anothers eyes. Billy was the first to hear the shot, the gentle phweet of a silenced gun. No loud bang, no explosion. He heard it first. River didn’t sense the assassin, so the shot came without any warning. None at all. And out of instinct, Billy lurched forward to protect River. The shot caught him right above the heart, and a bit to the left. He was launched out of the mule, into the dirt and dust road. Zoë lost control of the mule, River screamed in pain, and both she and Mal were launched violently from the back seats. Jayne just stayed silent. The mule crashed violently, knocking out the two in the front seat. River was fine, she lay groaning in the road. Mal felt that nothing was broken in him, which, by the law of war, made him tip-top. He crawled over to Billy, who was not groaning. He was barely breathing. Mal knelt next to him, placing both hands over the wound, which was gushing copious amounts of blood. The boy looked hazily at Mal. “I’m dyin’.” It wasn’t a question. “Nonsense,” said Mal. “I’ve seen folk live with worse’n this, and with worse docs to tend ‘em than me.” That wasn’t really true, but you tell the dying what they wanna hear, and that’s that. He had completely forgotten the gunman. The kid laughed weakly. He was only seventeen, he couldn’t die now, nipped in the bud. “Thanks, but…but I got somethin’ ta ask ya…’fore I go…” He stared off into space, drained. “Now, no talk a this, unnerstand?” Billy didn’t answer. “Now, lets get ya back to-“ “Lissen to me!” Billy, in a stunning display of will, put up his on Mals face, the bloodied palm leaving a mark on Mals face that was frighteningly alike to what Book did back in the ruin of Haven. “My Ma’…she deserves ta know, an’ my sister…yeah, Sandra should know…they…they live in a house next to th’bar, can’t miss it. Please…bring my body back…” His will failed, his hand slipped, his life ended, on that bloody, desolate killing ground. There was a rustling from the bushes, and a man stepped out. Mal turned to him. “He was only a kid.” “No, he was an obstacle in my way.” *** Serenity sped out into the black, angel of life and death. Everyone inside was breathing a sad, tired sigh of relief. But none noticed the ship. The sleek, black colored ship that could not be tracked. It left the planet, following the ship about two thousand mile out from its exhaust. Two by two, hands of blue. Come to hunt for me and you.