(Disclaimers with Part 1. This part contains references to Mal's past from "Bloodlines.")

Fateful Hours Part 4 by HawkMoth

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Book moved on to tying up some grape vines to an arbor, as Mal held it steady. It had gotten warmer in the long hours since they'd left the ship, and the black shirt was sticking unpleasantly to Mal's skin. "What the hell time is it?" he muttered, bending to wipe his forehead against his shoulder. "What is wrong with the law on this rutting planet? Can't find me, and can't even track down the ones that really did it."

Devlin looked up from the nearby vegetable patch, exchanging a forbearing glance with Book. "It's well past three," he answered. "I wouldn't be surprised if the perpetrators were hired from off-world, with the assault planned well in advance, if they've managed to elude capture this long. But surely a few of the witnesses could have given some useful information."

"People in a panic tend not to see much of anything," Mal said scornfully.

The pastor lumbered to his feet. "I think we could all use a bit of rest, and a cool drink. I'll be right back." He headed for the house, with a polite nod to the lawman who had just come around the corner of the porch. "Can I get you some water, Constable?" he asked cheerfully. "It's thirsty work, I expect, marching about like that."

"No thanks, Pastor," Harris replied. "I'm good."

The constable had kept to the same unrelenting patrol pattern: around the church itself--which much to the pastor's dismay had been locked up on the sheriff's orders; up to the rectory door and across the porch; through the garden and back around the house to the church again. Each time he walked through the garden, he'd stop for a few minutes to watch them at their work, the stun rifle resting with deceptive casualness in his arms.

Mal knew that stance, and just how quickly the weapon could be raised, aimed and fired. As the pastor went inside the house, Harris took it up again, standing on the garden path, his eyes flicking everywhere, but always coming back to them. His watchfulness, his mere presence, was a burden Mal was having a hard time tolerating.

He itched. Itched to be outta here. He was burning with the need to get back to Serenity, on fire to know if the others were safe and sound. The sweat dripping down his neck, collecting under the chafing collar, wasn't from the heat of the sun or the effort of the work. He was trapped and helpless and it was making him sick with anger and fear. Itching with the crazy notion to take a swing at that hard-eyed lawman and wrench the stun gun from him before the bastard knew what hit him....

"My word, Brother Joshua--are you all right?" Book was suddenly at his side, one hand firmly gripping his arm. Mal almost took a swing at him before some of the impotent fury boiling in his brain simmered down. The Shepherd stood between him and the constable, blocking Mal from the other's view, a look of severe warning on his face.

"I think you've had a touch too much sun, Brother," Book said calmly. "It can take you that way after a too long spell in space." He tipped a friendly nod in the constable's direction, then firmly propelled Mal toward the bench under the shade of the roof.

"Gorramit, Preacher, let go of me," Mal muttered angrily, trying to break free.

Book was having none of it. "That's enough, son," he shot back in a stern whisper. He pushed Mal down onto the bench and stood over him, shaking his head ever so slightly. "We can't blow this now," he cautioned.

Mal subsided, leaning back against the wall in reluctant submission. His head had gone all fuzzy again, and his leg ached something fierce. He realized with a cold stab of shock how close he'd come to losing it. "Son of a bitch," he murmured, dropping his head to his hands. He'd been in far worse situations and never reacted with such blind panic before, and the realization was making him feel even sicker.

"Easy now," Book said soothingly as he laid a steadying hand on Mal's shoulder.

"Everything okay over there, Shepherd?" the constable called out.

"Yes, he'll be fine. Don't let us keep you from your duties, Constable."

Slowly, Mal raised his head and watched the lawman return to his rounds, disappearing from view around the side of the rectory. "Sishengzi," he spat, just to make himself feel better.

Devlin came hurrying out of the kitchen door, carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and glasses. "Please forgive me," he said anxiously. "I would have brought this out sooner, but I was trying to see if there'd been any more news released." He set the tray down on the bench beside Mal and quickly offered him a glass of water. "Slowly now, son," he warned.

Mal closed both hands gratefully around the glass and did as he was told, taking careful sips, breathing deeply in between.

"Any news at all?" Book asked, still supporting Mal with one hand.

Devlin glanced around carefully before answering. "Nothing that's much help, I'm afraid. The search is continuing, and the land-lock is still in place."

Another stab of fear lanced through Mal. "Are they searching the ships?"

"I'm sorry," he replied. "They haven't said, and the comm lines are still blocked--"

There was a sudden sharp knock at the garden gate and all three men froze.

"Pastor! Pastor Devlin, open up please," a voice called loudly.

With a frantic glance at his guests, Devlin moved rapidly to comply. When he opened the gate, Sheriff Owens stepped through. He directed a narrow-eyed look and stiff nod at Book and Mal, then drew the pastor off for a private talk.

Mal set the glass down and leaned forward, shrugging off Book's comforting hand. But it was impossible to hear what was being discussed just outside the gate. Pastor Devlin seemed to be explaining something, while the sheriff kept throwing dubious looks back their way. As they waited for the conversation to end, possibilities ran rampant through Mal's mind

Zoe would be ready for anything. She'd keep Jayne from doing anything stupid, and make sure Simon and River stayed safe. The local law wouldn't know enough to conduct as thorough a search as Feds would. Serenity would be all right, once the land-lock was lifted.

Inara would be all right, protected by her respectable status. But if Zoe hadn't been able to make contact, how would she know what was going on? There was no way of knowing if she could get back to the ship safely. And if he and Book got back somehow--what if they had to take off before they could reach her? How would he know if she had even planned to return to Serenity at all? But at least with the Guild she'd be safe--

It would be better that way.

Wouldn't it?

He couldn't find an answer to that question, and felt an ache inside that had nothing to do with his injuries.

"Mal--are you all right?"

He hardly heard Book's whispered inquiry. The desperate thoughts of his ship and his crew kept chasing around in circles in his brain, making that dread feeling of sick helplessness rise up in him again.

It wasn't entirely unfamiliar. He'd known it sitting in a cell on the Alliance cruiser while Harken's men trashed Serenity--felt it when Dobson had shot Kaylee and Simon had refused to help her unless they ran--lived it endlessly in the blood and filth on Hera watching what was left of his people give up hope and die, dying a little inside for each and every one of them.

He'd known it even as a child...

...The water bandits were raiding every ranch for miles around. He was nearly eight years old and Jess told him to get his still-new gun and come on out to stand with the rest of them to defend what was theirs. Momma and Lily had their shotguns at the ready to back them up. Lily stopped by the door and put her hand to the plaque that had hung there for as long as young Mal could remember--the old, old prayer from Earth-That-Was, from a green, green land that Lily claimed her family came from. A prayer for times of trouble, and as Lily began to say it, Momma joined in and so did he because the words were a comfort and made you strong, even when you were scared half out of your mind...

"In this fateful hour I place all heaven with its power,and the sun with its brightness--"

The bandits had ridden out of the sun, hoping to confuse them, but they'd all fired straight and true and fought them off. "--and the snow with its whiteness, and fire with all the strength it hath, and lightning with its rapid wrath,--"

He'd used the prayer in battle time and again, but the words had failed him when all the fiery wrath of the Alliance poured out of the sky over Serenity Valley.

"--and the winds with their swiftness along their path, and the sea with its deepness, and the rocks with their steepness--"

But words could have power if you believed, had faith that you would persevere, trusted in those you called friend but who were so much more to you.

The words sang in his mind, banishing the fear, reviving his confidence, restoring his hope.

"--and the earth with its starkness: all these I place, by God’s almighty help and grace..."

He heard his own voice saying the words out loud with all the reverence he'd used as a child, when he still believed in them and all they stood for.

"--between myself and...the powers of darkness." He came to a faltering halt, shocked as he stared at his hands folded on his knees, disbelieving what he'd just done. They were just words...

But words had power.

The cold, sick fear inside him was fading, replaced by a resolute calmness. They'd get out of this, somehow. Zoe and the others would do just fine. He'd been put in a situation he couldn't control, that was all, and it had thrown him. Gotten hurt, and gone a little too crazy. Just for a bit. All he had to do was start thinking straight--

"Wode tian."

He glanced up. Book was staring at him, his eyes full of astonishment. Then a smile of incredulous approval appeared on the Shepherd's face.

Shame flooded through Mal, hot and unwanted. He swore to himself that it wasn't the prayer that had cleared his head and taken away his anguish. He'd just dug deep past the pain and fear to recover his strength, to find the faith he had in his own courage. Maybe he'd been a little lost, but he sure as hell was found now.

Praying had nothin' to do with it.

He stood up slowly, his hands clenched tight, facing Book and meeting his gaze with steely-eyed defiance. "You got something to say, Shepherd?" he asked coldly.

Book didn't so much as blink. "I've always been rather fond of that prayer myself," he said evenly. "It does the heart and soul a world of good. And while that hard-ass attitude of yours may work with Jayne, it doesn't bother me one bit, son," he continued in the same mild tone.

But for an instant, his eyes flashed with such menace that Mal took an involuntary step backwards, feeling his mouth go dry. Then it was gone, and the Shepherd was all kindness once more. "Now just stand easy and behave yourself," he advised. "I think the sheriff wants to have words with us."

Mal turned around warily, struggling to regain his self-control. He hadn't even noticed that Devlin was coming back into the garden, followed by Sheriff Owens.

The pastor appeared subdued, though not terribly worried. The sheriff seemed vexed, as if he were here against his better judgement. He looked them up and down in the same typical lawman's way as he'd done earlier, hard and calculating.

"The sheriff would like to ask you a few questions," Devlin said to Book, stepping out of the lawman's way.

Book nodded politely. "Of course."

Owens consulted the small Cortex link in his hand. "The two of you are passengers on a ship called Serenity, bound for Greenleaf?"

Mal's heart lurched at the mention of his boat, but he managed to keep his face still as he wondered what his crew had managed to pull off.

"That's right," Book answered.

"The ship's captain contacted us, apparently concerned about your safety."

"Ah, yes," Book said with a smile. "Miss Zoe--a fine, responsible lady."

"She's been very kind to us," Mal backed up the gambit, only a little surprised by the Shepherd's quick thinking.

The sheriff's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Seems the ship's owner thinks rather highly of you as well, requesting you get an official escort back down to the docks. Serenity has clearance to lift off once you two are safely on board."

Although Book's face gave away nothing, Mal knew for certain they were both equally startled by that bit of news. Who the hell--?

And then he knew, realizing from the sheriff's expression that he was taking their stunned silence for embarrassment. Well, damn. At least this time he wasn't going to get slapped around in public. "Miss Serra is also a very kind--lady," he said, not feigning his chagrin one jot as he glanced sideways at Book. "She didn't need to make a fuss on our account."

The sheriff's long look almost made him squirm. "The magistrate was happy to oblige," Owens explained, and it was hard to tell if he approved or not. "He likes to keep things...cordial with the Guild."

Book let out a very convincing sigh. "We weren't aware of Miss Serra's...affiliation when we arranged our passage," he said. "It's been a very--interesting journey."

"I imagine so," Owens said with a snort.

"Excuse me, Sheriff," Devlin interrupted, "but has the situation been resolved? Mrs. Mallory was detained at the clinic, and I'm concerned about her safe return."

"Things have quieted down for the most part, Pastor," Owens explained tersely, "and there've been some arrests. If you like, I'll have my men fetch her here once they've seen these two gentlemen to their ship."

Devlin's face creased in a huge smile. "That will be most appreciated, Sheriff. Thank you."

He nodded, then motioned impatiently toward the gate. "We'd better get moving."

That was all Mal wanted to hear, as he breathed easily for the first time in hours. 'Course, Inara having so kindly arranged an escort for them wasn't particularly shiny, though it most likely would be safer if they kept up the charade 'til they were back on Serenity. Then he could try to forget that this whole rutting day ever happened...

He tugged at Book's sleeve. "I don't think we ought to keep the sheriff waiting, Shepherd," he suggested humbly.

"No, of course not." Book turned to Devlin and shook his hand warmly. "Thank you for your hospitality, lao pengyou, and I am truly sorry for any inconvenience our presence may have caused you on this difficult day."

"Don't let it trouble you," Devlin insisted. And wait--you mustn't forget the package."

"Oh, yes--in all the excitement it slipped my mind."

The pastor hurried into the house, leaving Book to offer an apologetic smile to the sheriff. Mal could feel his leg starting to stiffen up, and tried shifting his weight without being too obvious. He wondered if he could manage the walk back to the port without giving anything away--it was going to be a trial.

The sheriff caught his restlessness, but fortunately mistook it for something else. "Worried about being back in the sky, Brother?"

Mal gave him a weak smile. "I suppose I'll get used to it eventually."

"But in the meantime, he'll offer his suffering up to the Lord," Book said. "Isn't that right, Brother Joshua?"

"Yes, Shepherd," he replied through gritted teeth.

Devlin returned carrying a large flat box bound up with twine. "My compliments to the Abbot," he said, offering it to Mal. "I hope he likes the color. The ladies of the parish worked very hard on getting the stitching just right."

The sheriff cast a curious look at the box.

"New vestments for the Abbey," Book said succinctly.

"Right. If you're ready then, gentlemen." Owens strode off through the gate.

Mal took the package gratefully, pleased to reclaim what was his and Zoe's. He held it carefully under one arm, watching his balance, and shook Devlin's hand with all the strength he could muster. "Thanks, Pastor," he said simply.

Devlin wrapped both hands firmly around his, and for a second, Mal had the peculiar, unsettling notion that he was being blessed. "My pleasure, son," Devlin assured him. "You and your crew will always have a place of refuge here," he added quietly, as he let go.

Mal nodded and turned away quick, feeling his throat tighten up. He walked as steadily as he could, with Book by his side wearing a sad smile. As they passed through the gate to where the sheriff and his men were waiting, they heard Devlin call out a heartfelt, "Godspeed."

******

Conclusion