Before he went to war, Malcolm Reynolds was a regular guy with hopes, dreams and ideals. Adair Quan shared them all. Then the war came to change them both, tearing their bond asunder in the name of freedom and equal rights. Rene Cariveau is a freighter captain who only ever wanted to run a tight ship and ended up a legend. His crew is comprised of the family his father built, and the one Rene has begun to create on his own. Aboard his ship are the desperate people of a world firmly under the boot heel of the Alliance, looking for a little freedom of their own. Add an attempted murder, and one passenger who raises Mal's hackles just to look at him, and it's pretty much guaranteed this ain't about to go smooth.

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All Firefly characters are the property of someone else. All original characters are copyrighted by yours truly. This is not in any way, means or intention meant to infringe on anybody. The events in this work of fiction take place after Objects in Space in my humble attempt to continue the Firefly story.

MIGHTY BIG THANK YOU goes to Defender for a killer beta. MIGHTY BIG APOLOGY goes to anyone who can read and speak French. Although I can swear in five languages, I can only speak one so I was forced to use an online translation program for the French. Any and all helpful suggestions/heckling would be cheerfully accepted. If it doesn't read well in French or even Canadian French, chances are, it could be Cajun French.

I don't speak Chinese either (big surprise) so what I did get to use is really just stock language and/or swearing, and has already had the English translations published elsewhere. If you really want to know what I wrote, ask me.

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Heartbroken

It was eight months after the Battle of Serenity before he got back. Malcolm Reynolds stood outside the boarded up store front for a long spell, not sure where to go from there. Abstractedly, he decided the words painted on the sign crowning the canopy had started to peel long before somebody whitewashed the words MOVED ON across them. Wouldn't be long before folks forgot Quan's Mercantile had been there at all. "If it's goods you're after, the Fed commissary's up that way." The sheriff's office was next door to Quan's. Mal didn't recognize the man leaning on the support post at the far corner of the boardwalk, but he had the look of the law. Wasn't just the gun on his hip neither. "How long they been gone?" "Oh, about seven months now. Since word of the surrender came over the Cortex." Setting his hat forward to shade his eyes, the sheriff moved from the boardwalk down to the street. "Jimmy Quan painted that, packed up his folks and lit out for the core. His sister was already gone long before that." She was already gone. "How long?" "'Bout a year. Started flying cargo, but then a letter come saying she went to fly for the Independents." His studied eye took in the brown long coat Mal wore and met Mal's gaze with understanding. Mal ducked his head, just so the sheriff wouldn't see too much. He wasn't ready to discuss it, not yet. Maybe not ever. "No telling where she is now?" "Well." The law man pretended to think on it. Mal figured he was really trying to decide whether it was worth the time, trouble and, more to the point, the rutting paperwork involved with hauling in a suspected Independent. "Jimmy said something about a job on the borders. But she ain't coming back, none of 'em are." Turning away from Mal, he gave the old mercantile a long look. "That I do know. Shame too. Good people." Mal nodded. "Thanks for the information." "Least I can do." The sheriff offered his hand. "God speed, son." Coldly, Mal stared at that hand and met the other man's kind gaze with an icy glare. "God ain't speeding me nowhere, friend. I'll be doing that my own self."

Seven Years Later I found the way, by the sound of your voice. So many things to say...these are only words...now I've only words--once there was a choice. He touched her there and she arched fluidly, enraptured. A second, deeper touch pulled an erotic moan from somewhere in the center of her. He thought maybe it was the sound of her soul. Did I give you much? Well you gave me things. You gave me stars to hold...songs to sing. I only want to be loved. She was above him, breathtaking in her splendor, her joy. Bending down, she pressed a hot open kiss at the notch at the base of his throat just as her breasts brushed against him. She moved and he was shattered by her power. And I hurt and I hurt and the damage is done. You gave me songs to sing...shadow and sun...earthbound...star blind...tied to someone. Tenderness. She gave him that, as much and more than he asked for. Tarnished purity. Sincerity. Ultimate warmth. Passion. Not fulfillment. Never that. Why didn't I stay? Why couldn't I? So many lives to cross...well I just had to leave...there goes everything. There was no love. There couldn't be, not when his heart was empty. If he couldn't give it, he wouldn't take it. Still he tried and as they crashed over the edge, he felt her tears on his chest. And the damage is done. She rose up again, her beautiful heart pounding like thunder. She cried out and tore his soul apart.

Malcolm Reynolds woke with a start, bolt upright in bed. Tangled up in his covers, sweaty and fiercely horny, he could make out the brilliant red signal flashing on the other side of his cabin, perfectly in time with the shrieking alarm that had ripped him from a dream of some terrifying proportions. He could still feel the warmth of the woman on his skin, the scent of her was still fresh and the taste. Only that wasn't from the dream, but a memory from years gone by. Back in the days when he used to know for sure and for certain what the whole gorram thing was about. The alarm shrieked on and on...and on. "Shiong mao niao." Mal groped in the darkness for the light switch near his bunk and squinted through the blaze as his eyes adjusted. From a distance he could tell the red signal was on the right side of the comm panel, indicating the forward part of the ship. Small comfort. At least it wasn't the gorram engine again. No offense, Serenity. Scraping himself off the mattress felt more like crawling over gravity plating set way too high. Finally he made it to the comm panel and scanned the white bits of medical tape with names hand-written in different colors. Different people had different colors in their personalities, or so Kaylee claimed. At least it made Zoe's name easier to pick out from the others, since it was bright red, and he hit that switch, slurring a demand. "Wash? Wha' the gorram hell is 'at?" No answer. He could hear what sounded like growling answered by a not-so-erotic Zoe-like moan. "WASH!" "That is a very annoying sound, combined with an even more annoying captain," was Wash's sleep-heavy reply. "It is three in the blessed a.m. Sir." Zoe was using her just-as-soon-shoot-him-as-talk-to-him tone. She'd back it up too if they were in the same room. Maybe not shoot him, exactly, but her right hook was well known to have the same proportional effect as a surface-to-air missile. On the upside, that was indeed Wash's sleepy voice. At least they weren't...or hadn't been...y'know. "Don't even mention the blessed a.m. to me. The gorram thing's in my bunk, not yours." "Because you're the one who asked for a Chou ma niao distress call alert," Wash said. "Distress call alert? The hell? What distress call alert?" "The one Kaylee and I installed a week ago because our kindly captain asked us to." Oh. That distress call alert. Mal smacked his forehead against the panel for good measure. That'd learn him. "Next time I get to feeling all benevolent-like, remind me of this." "No problem." "And change that gorram sound. I'm headed to the bridge." Mal cut off Wash's grumbling to get dressed. Five minutes later he was pulling on a shirt as the braces on his trousers slapped against the backs of his knees while he climbed the gangway stairs to the bridge. Pulling his collar out from under, he froze when his attention was grabbed immediately by a transport ship almost twice the length of Serenity that looked dark and frozen in space. "Huh." Checking the communications panel, he turned on the speaker and started scanning frequencies. "...elle requesting assistance. Mayday, Mayday, this is the Zirondelle, requesting assistance." Mal stared out the view port again at the transport and could just make out the faded word above the transport's freshly-painted registration numbers. "Sonuvabitch." The message repeated in Chinese, then was starting over in French when he heard Wash grumbling under his breath on the stairs." Pick a different sound." Pulling on his flashy floral pilot shirt, with his hair sticking up every which way, Wash shuffled his way to the console. "Sweet little chirping birdies maybe? Ocean sounds, or--oh! Hey, how about a cat purring?" "Cat-purring sound? Y'got one of them?" Mal leaned over the helm, checking the ship outside for recent damage and finding none. Plenty of home-spun patchwork and fine industrial spot welding, though. Somebody on that ship sure knew their repair work. "No. But it would beat the current cat-screeching option." Landing abruptly in the pilot's chair, Wash was looking out the view port the same time he reached out to switch off the autopilot. "At least there's a ship out there. Completely niou-se if it was a false alarm." "Zirondelle, bangzhu wen ...L'aide, l'aide, le bateau Zirondelle demandant aide..." Wash frowned, cocking his head to listen as he readjusted their trajectory and brought their speed down to a somewhat less careening velocity. "Is that French?" "That's the Zirondelle out there." "Really? Wow, that's...great." Contemplating the transport for a second, Wash had to ask. "You don't mean Zirondelle as in...?" "Cargo transport during the war," Mal said. Pulling up one suspender, then the other, he watched the ship pass by above them. "Best blockade runner there ever was, run by a man named Cariveau, hails from Acadia." Already nodding, Wash's expression turned more appreciative. "Well, yeah, that'd be the one." "Can't be two of 'em," Mal agreed. "Wonder what he's doing out this far?" "Same as us, probably," Wash decided. "Doing what he does best and trying to score whatever he can out of it. So you want I should answer?" Mal folded his arms and continued to contemplate the ship in front of him with a frown. "Do that, and do a scan too, find out what's up." Wash nodded and took the handset off the hook on his left. "Zirondelle, this is private salvage Serenity. We read you, come back." The auto-distress repeated as Wash engaged the braking thrusters. Serenity slowed and stopped just shy of the Zirondelle's bridge view port. "Cap'n?" Turning to see Kaylee come up the steps all wrapped up in a blanket, Mal winced regretfully. "We wake you?" "She's slowed down," Kaylee replied. Blinking like a sleepy kitten, she scowled at the console readings. "Something wrong?" "Nope. All shiny, A-okay here," Mal said, smiling as he wrapped a brotherly arm around her shoulders. "Them out there--not so much." "Zirondelle, requesting assistance... yuanzhu, beitong Zirondelle, bangzhu wen." Kaylee turned her scowl out the view port. "A-40-19 Dragonfly class. Been rode hard, put away wet from the look of her." She tilted her head to read the name painted on the other ship's bridge. "Zirondelle. Anyone we know?" "Only by reputation," Mal said. "Uh, Mal. They're dead in the water." Wash looked up urgently from the console. "No energy signature at all." Mal felt his skin go cold. Salvage was one thing. Salvage on a space-bound mausoleum was something else entirely. "Life support?" "Mayday, mayday, Zirondelle requesting..." "It's there, but only about a third power. If that," Wash said. "Must've cut back their auxiliary to save on the system," Kaylee said. Fully awake now, her brain was working as much of the technology as she knew on the A-40, which Mal figured was plenty. "A third's bare minimum to run some lights, maybe comms if they ain't too wordy. No heat, but they should have oh-two. If they rigged it right and don't move around much, they could last awhile, but..." Kaylee blinked and looked up at him with worried eyes. Mal understood completely. "But we best get on over there, see what there is to see. Wash, keep trying to raise 'em. Patch 'em through when you make contact." "You got it." Wash held the handset up to his mouth again. "Zirondelle, this is private salvage Serenity. Zirondelle come in." "The doctor may wanna come along, in case there's them as need tending." Mal said as he grabbed a mobile comm and headed for the exit. "You get him up. Make sure he's got all the supplies he needs too. I don't wanna be making no extra trips. Dong ma?" "Copy that," Kaylee answered cheerfully. She turned to follow him as static crackled on the comm's receiver. "Serenity...Serenity this is Zirondelle. Come in." Mal froze on the stairs at the sound of a woman's voice coming from the Zirondelle. Lost memory, all but forgotten, slammed into him in a stinging wave of déjà vu and left his heart crashing in his chest. Black hair that glinted copper and gold in the sun; warm skin as soft as velvet; a smile that lit up the night sky; a promise of fidelity and loyalty that he had relied on, only to find it shattered under the strain of too many broken dreams. It couldn't be. Coming to himself with a start, he turned around to head back onto the bridge. Kaylee managed to keep from colliding with him as he went by, but only barely. "Cap'n? What?" "Zirondelle, we're showing you dead in space. Can you confirm?" Wash checked his readings and looked up as Mal returned to stand behind him. "Confirmed, Serenity. Engine failure. We're about out of oh-two. Cee-oh-two levels spiking. People here could truly use some fresh air and thawing out. Over." "Ask how many," Mal said quietly. Arms folded, he stared down at the small comm screen, daring it to show her face and seeing only VIDEO DISABLED slowly flashing instead as if to taunt him. "Zirondelle, what's your compliment?" "Um...that's five...no, four crew...eighty-seven passengers. Twenty-three families...refugees...from Acadia. Over." Kaylee's eyes went wide. "Wuh de ma--A-40's only got bunks for fifteen. Ninety-some people on one-third auxiliary might last a week, not even. It's got a big enough cargo hold, but that ain't no way to transport passengers." "Got no luxury to go getting choosy, I reckon," Mal said. "Kaylee, best set out the good china. We're gonna have some company for a spell." "You bringing 'em over here?" "Gonna have to, leastwise till we get 'em fixed up." "What if we can't," Kaylee asked. "We don't even know what's wrong yet." "Jump out that air lock when we got to. Wash, tell 'em to prep for docking in five." Reaching up, Mal touched the comm's universal switch. "This is the captain. Everybody up and at 'em, we got us a situation. Meet me at the airlock and I'll fill you in. Zoe, Jayne, stay extra light on weapons. We're gonna be taking on civilians." Kaylee watched, slack-jawed as Mal bolted aft. "But, Cap'n." "Now!" * * * Watching through the window in the hatch, Mal saw the Zirondelle's boarding ramp loom closer until it was right up against Serenity's hull. "Contact." Wash's voice came over the comm. "Ah-firmative. Zirondelle's pilot confirms, we got a seal. Her people are on the other side as we speak. Hang onto something back there. There will be a something of a gust when it opens." "You say refugees from Acadia?" With a scowl of confusion, Zoe was still pulling her thick hair back and securing it with her favorite wood and leather clip. "Acadia's been under clearance eight years, and these folk are just now getting moved off?" Jayne scratched a night's worth of beard growth on his jaw through an enormous yawn. "Feds decide they need your piece of the 'verse more than you do, you're pretty much humped." "I'd heard of forced relocation. I've never seen it until now," Simon said. "It's not a pretty sight, that's for certain." Book's expression was grim. "Timin's a little odd," Zoe said. Reaching forward, Mal took hold of the manual release. "Airlock is opening...now." The gust he was warned about started the second the airlock door started to open. Precious oxygenated air rushed past them from behind, and they could hear loud sighs of relief coming from the passageway beyond. Reminded of his own experience with near asphyxiation a few months back, Mal stepped into the opening, and got his first look at the Zirondelle's passengers. There was indeed a fair quantity of them. Every single one weighed down a bit by the proud rag-tag bearing of people who had been torn from everything they knew and meant to survive it, regardless. A tall blond man holding a small boy in his arms caught Mal's attention right off. Watching him tip his head back just slightly as he reveled in the ability to breathe freely, Mal recognized the euphoric sensation vividly. That truly astonishing feeling of release when the tense muscles on his sides finally let go, and he could let his chest expand to allow both lungs to saturate themselves in the warm pure oxygen surging over him. Absolutely nothing like it in the 'verse, and an experience he hoped he would never have to repeat. After a bit, the tall man opened his eyes and met Mal's gaze directly. With a solemn nod, he spoke. "I am Rene Cariveau, Captain of the Zirondelle. I request sanctuary for my crew and passengers, and aid for my ship." It was the bearing rather than the clean English and French-Acadian drawl that had indicated the man's identity right off the bat, but the introduction surely helped. Pirates were becoming downright commonplace in the black and a fella couldn't be too careful these days. The fact that Captain Cariveau didn't appear to be packing weapons went a lot further to quiet the tiny little voice of mistrust still persisting at the back of Mal's head. That, combined with the general condition of the passengers, only reinforced his impulsive decision to let strangers on board Serenity. "You and yours can come on ahead, captain. Passengers can take their rest here in the cargo hold while we take stock of your damage." Cariveau nodded once, then turned to give the same nod to a small older woman on his left. Mal stepped back as she marched right up to him, gave him a steely look and stepped past him into Serenity. She looked each member of the crew in the eye as she passed, then stood for a moment to survey the cargo bay. Finally, she turned and nodded once. It was all Cariveau needed before he spoke to the people waiting impatiently behind him. "Entrer. C'est sûr." People moved past with the same fluid rush of that first gust of air, and it wasn't lost on any of Serenity's crew that there were no individuals among the passengers. Zoe personally guided a couple with two young children to the front of the cargo bay, each one holding onto the other's hand like a life-line to form a human chain. Book took the arm of a woman who carried one small child while clutching the hand of another with a third holding a vice grip on her skirt. Jayne even pitched in, helping a man who was trying to herd six boys on his own. Kaylee stood back and watched the procession with soulful eyes while Simon's attentive gaze watched for ailments or injuries. As an elderly woman came slowly supporting her husband, Simon jumped in to take the man's free arm over his shoulders. The woman didn't utter a word, but her shining eyes said it all. "If any of you need medical attention," Simon said at the top of his voice. "Follow me back to the infirmary." "We have protein stores we can share," Cariveau was saying. One of the passengers held back and blocked some others so their captain could board, then the flood started anew. Cariveau moved to stand next to Mal. "And fresh water should you have a need." Watching as his cargo hold quickly transformed into a refugee camp, Mal nodded. "Appreciate the offer." Then he turned and found he had to tilt his head back a bit to look Cariveau in the eye--startling blue eyes that had dark circles under them. "Been out some time?" "Only two weeks," Cariveau responded. He nuzzled the boy's flaxen curls and patted the small back comfortingly as the child began to stir. "All was well and good until our compression coil failed four days ago. It is a stroke of Providence that brings you across our bow." "More like your distress call and a little course adjustment by my pilot. Providence ain't much help out here in the black most days." With a wry grin, Mal put his hand out. "Malcolm Reynolds." Cariveau's grip was crushing, causing Mal to look him in the eye again. Those ice-blue eyes were intense, searing him with what seemed like both recognition and fury. For a single weird second, Mal thought he might be on the verge of getting punched in the face, until Cariveau lifted one eyebrow and abruptly let go. Then he turned to watch the continuing onslaught of passengers, the muscles in his jaw working like he was trying not to say something. Meanwhile, Mal flexed his hand to test for any broken bones. Mighty peculiar. "Yup, pesky things, compression coils." Glancing sheepishly at Kaylee, Mal caught her slanted I told you so glower. "So happens we picked one up recently. Off a salvage, you don't mind second hand?" "I am not in a position to mind anything." As the child in his arms shifted, so too did Cariveau's attention. He murmured softly in French to the boy who turned his head and opened great big brown eyes to blink sleepily at Mal and Kaylee. Cariveau smiled tenderly, and with an unmistakable gleam of pride. "This is Jordain, my son." Utterly charmed, a beaming Kaylee reached out a hand to touch the boy's round perfect cheek. "Aww, hey there, sweet thing." Little Jordain smiled and reached out an arm to her as he leaned away from his father. Kaylee took him and held him on her hip, nuzzling the side of his neck to make him giggle. Mal had to smile at the sight. "This here's Kaylee Frye, our mechanic." Cariveau's concern melted away instantly as he gave a knowledgeable nod. "Ah oui, je vois. His favorite playthings these days are our mechanic's tools. His mother believes he will be a mechanic one day." Kaylee's smile grew nova-like in brilliance, but her eyes never moved from the boy's enchanting face. "Yeah? You like things that go Jordain?" Jordain nodded vigorously as he informed her, "Oui. Go very fast, but Papa's ship ees broken." Cariveau gave an exhausted chuckle and reached up to touch his son's head. "I can take you down to meet Cezar now if you like." "Oh yes sir," Kaylee replied. "Best we get your life support back up soon as we can. All this extra is gonna task Serenity's systems more than I'd like." Glancing past Jordain's head, Kaylee saw the people taking space in the cargo hold and her eyes switched quickly to Cariveau with alarm. "Oh, no offense, sir--I don't mean nothing by these folks." Cariveau waved off her earnestness. "None taken, your concerns are valid. I believe Cezar may still be attempting to transfuse the power plant with his own blood as we speak, so we should go." "Captain Cariveau, why don't you let me take him?" No one was more surprised than Mal to see Inara standing behind them. Despite the fiction that she was a passenger and not crew, she did have the tendency of involving herself in the goings on aboard ship. When she hadn't answered the initial all-hands call, Mal had thought she meant to exclude herself this time. Now he couldn't decide which bothered him more; that she had answered, or that she'd done it in her night clothes freshly out of her well-appointed bed. "Inara?" Staring at her in disbelief, Cariveau's jaw dropped nearly to his collar the exact same time as Mal's. Smiling warmly, she moved closer. "Bon Jour Rene. C'est une joie pour vous voir." Taking the hand she extended, Cariveau took the other as well and bent to kiss her cheeks one at a time as she drew closer. "De tous gens, vous êtes le dure je prévoirais de découvrir ici." "Je devrais dire pareil de vous," Inara said in what sounded to Mal like agreement. Cariveau kissed one knuckle on each hand, a gesture Mal had always thought to be ridiculously romantic, and not in a good way. "Et pourtant il fait mon coeur bien." Inara beamed. "Merci." Mal decided he'd had his fill of being reduced to the status of side-line spectator on his own ship. "Well. Seems you all just saved me the trouble of tedious introductions." Inara's dark gaze angled his way, but only briefly before she returned her attention to Cariveau. "Did I hear you say this was your son?" "You did. This is Jordain." Moving close to Kaylee and the boy, Inara laid one hand gently on his back. "Bonjour cher. Aimeriez-vous venir l'évêché me?" Jordain didn't even think twice about it. His arms went out to her, winding around her neck as he transferred smoothly from one beautiful woman to another. Snuggling into her shoulder, he closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh of pure contentment. "Your boy's got a discerning eye," Mal observed, and met Inara's barbed glance with a saucy smile. "I have use of a shuttle," Inara pointed upward to Serenity's port side. "Just there. Whenever you're ready." "Merci." Cariveau nodded once. "Je suis le plus reconnaisant." Inara gave him another warm smile and a nod of acknowledgement. She cuddled the child, and began singing softly in French as she turned to make her way through the crowd. Mal watched her go, wondering how a woman in her profession could look twice as desirable with a child in her arms. "Captain, would you care to join us?" Cariveau asked. "Well, truth be told, I won't be much good in an engine room," Mal said honestly. "Would like to pay a visit to your bridge though, make sure our pilots are synched proper." Cariveau eyed him carefully first, then nodded as if he'd just come to a decision. "Bon." Focusing on the crowd, he searched quickly before spotting who he was looking for. "Jian." "Shu muh?" crouched down next to an elderly man he had just settled onto a pallet on the deck, an Asian male turned in response. In rapid-fire Chinese, Cariveau relayed Mal's request, then switched smoothly back to English. "Would you mind showing the way?" The Asian's gaze switched to Mal briefly, then back to Cariveau with contempt that was so obvious it made Mal’s hand itch a bit for his gun. Rising slowly, Jian made his way across the cargo bay to stand in front of Mal before he shouldered his way past Cariveau and headed into the Zirondelle. Mal watched him go and leaned closer to Cariveau as they both moved to follow so he could keep his voice low. "Your first officer's a little tetchy, you don't mind me saying." "Thankfully, Jian is not my first officer," Cariveau replied, just as quietly. "He is a professional planet-fall diver. We were taking him to Beaumonde when word came on the Cortex that the town of Sayabec had just gone under clearance on Acadia. He was not pleased about the detour." "Yeah, I'm getting that." They found Kaylee at the intersection of two passageways, peering down the passageway leading to the bridge with a quizzical frown. "Cezar's awful surly--I mean, if that was Cezar." Cariveau shook his head. "No. Cezar would have been polite enough to introduce himself. The bridge is there." He gestured to his right for Mal's benefit, then to his left. "Engine room is this way." Gazing down the suspiciously vacant passageway at the top of the short flight of steps, Mal nodded. "I'll try to catch up with my guide." "Très bon." Turning, he gave Kaylee a half-hearted smile. "Shall we?" Mal watched them move away for a moment, then turned and climbed the stairs in three strides. With everyone on board Serenity, the larger freighter was eerily quiet. The way a battlefield was just before dawn. The attack came from darkened hatchway behind him, a shining razor sharp blade that arched outward from the right, directly toward Mal's throat.

Heartbroken - Part 2

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