(no subject)
SAFETY FIRST
5000 words; rating: Soft R
For: settiai
Simon/Kaylee, Wash/Zoe, Jayne/River
Prompt: AU post-Serenity, someone finds out they're pregnant, two people get caught in a compromising situation in a semi-public area of Serenity.
NOTE: The parts of the story in italics take place "now"; the regular text in the middle is a flashback.
"Are you sure, Zoe?" Simon asked.
"Hell, yes, Doc," she said. "You ever seen me namby-pamby?"
"I can't say I have, no," Simon said.
"Almost lost him, Doc," Zoe said. "Still could lose him. Some ways, our life's got chancier even than before."
"But isn't that an argument against…."
"No, Simon, it ain't," she said. "If we can make this baby, if one of us goes, hell, if both of us go, then the kid'll still have a family here."
Simon sighed. "All right," he said. "I'll give you a little topical anaesthetic. The implant is designed to slide right out, and then I'll put a stitch or two in the incision and put a small bandage over it. Try to keep the bandage dry and clean for a day or so, and then you can remove it."
"I am a leaf on the wind!" Wash said. "Watch me soar!"
Mal looked around sourly at the chaos in the cockpit and when his teeth stopped chattering he counted up the cost of fixing all the smashed parts. "That's comin' out of your paycheck, bubba," he said.
Then the harpoon smashed through the windshield and pinned Wash to the seat.
{{Dead men don't scream}} Jayne thought to steady himself. {{So that's good, ain't it?}}
Simon started to yell for Wash to get the chainsaw, but realized the illogicality of that tactic, so he yelled for Kaylee to get it. {{Probably just as well to get her away from the sight of all that blood}} Simon thought, desperately hoping that he had enough plazrep to transfuse. Or, worst of all, that he'd run it all through Wash, who would die on the table leaving no more supplies for the rest of the wounded who could be expected that day.
Everyone grabbed some part or another of Wash and they got him to the medbay. Simon slammed an oxygen mask over Wash's face and started cutting away at the bloodstained palm trees on Wash's shirt.
"Zoe, River, Jayne…out!" Simon ordered as he scrubbed up. They gave him a Three Bears trio of dirty looks but obeyed. "Mal," Simon whispered, "When we had the fire, and you ordered Wash into the cockpit, because you didn't want him there when Zoe died…"
"You think that's what I did?" Mal asked. "Doc, I'm in charge here, and when I give orders, someone better jump to 'em."
"Good," Simon said. "Whatever your reason, just take Zoe with you. Don't let her stay here. And don't take Kaylee. I need her help."
{{On the off chance we're still alive come Christmas, that boy's gettin' a lump of coal in his stocking}} Mal thought. "What'd I just say? I give the orders, you don't."
"Please let me stay," Kaylee said, watching Simon try to grow himself a third or fourth hand as he started an IV and set up vital-sign monitors. "I'd be flat no good to you at takin' bad lives, maybe here I can help save a good one."
Mal stalked out, not deigning to provide a response.
(Mr. Universe's Complex)
"Got your copies?" Mal asked.
"Helluva time to think of it now if we ain't," Jayne said. Zoe just nodded.
Mal put his left hand on Jayne's shoulder and his right on Zoe's. "Godspeed," he said, and then kicked himself as soon as he said it. "C'mon," he said, and turned his back and headed off to work. He missed Inara, knowing that maybe that would be his last thought, but he was glad that after he went to the training house to fight the Operative, Inara had agreed to stay put instead of coming back to Serenity and muddling things up even worse than they were anyway.
"You'll feel better once the fightin' starts," Jayne told Zoe encouragingly. {{Poor Wash gotta be dead by now}}he thought. "Like a spring tonic."
"Today is a good day to die," Zoe said.
"That's the choke point there," Jayne said, pointing down from the little room that held the workings for the huge doors. "Them bein' insane cannibals and all, they'll prolly expect us to be down there." Then they settled down to wait. It didn't take long for the doors to be ripped open and a boiling tide of Reavers to rush into the room.
Jayne let Zoe do the honors with the first grenade, but deployed the second one himself a few minutes later. "Damn, they ain't supposed to have automatic weapons," he said.
Zoe just shrugged. "Well, if they can fly ships…"
It turned out to be a good plan, because there were so many Reaver wounded that their comrades got…distracted, and only a few swarmed up to the control room.
(Serenity)
"Hey," Kaylee said. "I noticed you didn't say nothin' about not lettin' River go Even though you took a swing at Mal for takin' her along."
Simon shook his head. "Good times! No, Kaylee, I didn't…I don't think that…we…I…still don't know the scope of what was done to her. But clearly, the outcome of those atrocities was, or it included, remarkable strength and ability to fight. If she can use those powers now, it may be some reparation for what was done to her. Even, directly, some vengeance."
One of the alarms went off. {{Oh, Christ}} Simon thought. Blood clot…right…there…"Get me the thrombase, stat!" he yelled. When nothing happened, he continued, "Where did you get your training? Remedial veterinary school? This man is having a stroke right now and I need the…"
He looked up, saw Kaylee's brimming eyes over her splattered mask, and remembered where he was. "Kaylee, I'm so sorry. I should never have said that. But I need the big syringe…wrapped up in greeny-blue shrinkfilm…in the, ummm, third drawer from the left, second from the top. And Wash really needs it fast."
Simon ripped the wrappings loose {{No time}} he thought, and jammed the syringe right where he expected the blood clot to be. The alarm stopped shrieking, but meanwhile another teacupful of blood had spilled out of the bleeder Simon had been repairing when Wash threw the clot…
(Mr. Universe's Complex-The Broadcast Tower)
Yeah, the robot, still throwing her ventriloquist's voice, had the right of it. The room was damn hard to find, and it would be more than a stroll in the park anyway. How much didn't it help for that Operative fellow to be up in his face, with the result that Mal was frequently down on it, as he got in a few good licks himself but mostly absorbed vicious kicks and punches.
Mal developed instant nostalgia for the kicks and punches when the Operative unsheathed his sword, which wasn't quite as pantywaist a weapon as it looked if you were on the receiving end.
More times than once, Mal thought that he was done for, but he dragged himself up off the ground-well, off the slatted metal walkways and returned to the fight. And then there was a rattle of chains and it refreshed him like a cool drink in a hot day's labor.
"You know what your problem is?" he asked the Operative. "When you're playin' Hide the Thimble, you forget to count how many thimbles there is under them walnut shells."
River, in perfect arabesque, swung in on the chain, made a graceful landing, and pulled a disk out of her blouse. As she inserted it in the Broadcast head, she turned around to the Operative. "We each had a copy," she said.
The momentary distraction in the Operative's attention was enough for Mal to slide his hands behind the Operative's head and break his neck. Then he arranged the limp body facing the monitors that were already, unstoppably, playing the Miranda tape. "Enjoy the show," Mal said. And then, as the impact of his own injuries crashed through, he fell to his knees and forward onto his face. "Can't crawl no more, little albatross," Mal said.
River hit the button, and the metal bridge unit unfolded and joined up with the catwalk where she stood and Mal lay. She crouched and sort of rolled and tugged at Mal's unresisting body. Some would have minded being so high up, on such a slim bridge, with so far to fall and a heavy body to transport.
To River, the only way to improve it would have been to throw in some stars.
(The ruins of Serenity)
The comm went. "We're home," River said, and Kaylee ran down to the cargo bay to open the door, and Simon ran down to triage whoever might have survived. It was River's voice, so she was alive, and so was at least one other person.
The door opened, and Zoe leaned heavily on River and Jayne more-or-less carried Mal, and everyone was bruised and drenched in somebody's blood but they were all alive. Simon closed his eyes, running a fast Cannibals-and-Missionaries simulation to handle the logistics. "River, can you walk?" he asked her.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Okay. That's fine. That's excellent. Zoe, Wash is still alive. He's badly hurt, and you'll be surprised to see the number of places I found to insert tubes in. But alive, and I'll do my best to keep him that way for you. So if you and Jayne can sort of sit here for a while, preferably not on anything pointedly infectious, River and Kaylee and I are going to move Wash into your bed to recuperate. On the stretcher-River? Kaylee? You know, the one with the wheels? Then I'll be down here with some painkillers for you and we'll wheel Mal up to surgery and I'll take care of him-you can tell, he's the worst off of the three of you-and then I'll loop back for you guys. Kaylee, River, mashang!"
"You better hope Mal can't hear you," Jayne said. "Otherwise he'd kick your ass, you orderin' everyone about like that."
Hours later, Simon said, "Jayne. Hello. Count backward from thirty, and I'll start working on you when you're under."
Jayne blanched. "You ain't said nothin' mean to me! That means I'm gonna die and you ain't gonna insult a dying man!"
"Well, I'm off my game," Simon said. "Jayne, I don't think you're going to die. I left you till last-well, subconsciously maybe because I don't like you-but, objectively speaking, your injuries are the least serious. I have every confidence that between my skills and your sheer obduracy you will shrug off these injuries as you have so many in the past. All right. Listen, when you go to sleep there's a little, uh, procedure I can take care of. You won't be so aggressive, and you won't feel the compulsion to mark your territory, which will come as a great relief to everyone who has cleanup duty. Now will you count backward for me?"
"I think that's all we can do now," Simon said, looking around the very crowded infirmary. Wash had been moved out, and Zoe sat at his side, drowsing from the meds for her own injuries. Mal lay on the back bed in the Infirmary, crashed out with shock and exhaustion, the ship's spare IV rig pumping plazrep and glucose and healing promoters, antibiotics and opiods. Jayne, on the treatment bed, no longer had two bullets in him, and the shrapnel had been picked out, but Simon thought that repairing the smashed shoulder had better wait until later, when the foam cast would be made and cured by the parts replicator lathe. And, Simon had to admit, when the surgeon could see straight.
Simon reached down into one of the cupboards, where he kept a small iron teapot and a precious stash of first-flush white tea. He filled the pot from the boiling-water spigot, and found the bottle of brandy and the sugar basin. He handed Kaylee a cup. "Here. It kills the taste of the brandy," he said. "Kaylee, you were magnificent. I can't-the whole crew can't-thank you enough for what you did."
"You yelled and me and said I flunked out of vet school," Kaylee said.
"Yes, and I'm very sorry. I never should have said that to you. I was scared, Kaylee, I didn't know if Wash was going to make it. And I was mad at myself because I should have laid out that syringe myself, because I should have been ready for the possibility. And you were doing such a good job that I forgot I wasn't still in Cap City Mem, with a team of real surgical nurses. Truly."
"But I tossed my cookies!" Kaylee said. "A lot!"
"But in the wastebasket!" Simon said gallantly. "Every time!" He reached out his hand, noticed that it was still sheathed in a heavily bloodstained latex glove, and pulled off the gloves and tossed them at the hazmats bin. They landed neatly on top. He touched his fingertips to Kaylee's face, then withdrew them. "Kaylee, a person without fear has no courage. The courage…and strength…you've shown are incredible. You just went back in and did what you had to, no matter how much it frightened you, or disgusted you. And that's an important reason why Wash is still alive. Why Zoe-well, she wasn't hurt as badly-and Mal, and Jayne-although perhaps we may have some second thoughts about that later-are still alive."
Simon finished the tea hurriedly (the taste of the brandy was still fairly perceptible), put the cup down on the counter, and leaned toward Kaylee.
"Don't kiss me!" Kaylee yelled.
"Oh," Simon said, drawing back. "I'm sorry…I thought that…if anything, I had waited too long I guess I did wait too long. Until after your kiss-by date."
"No, that ain't it, but if my mouth tastes like a yak died in it to me"
Simon smiled and realized that actually the only thing keeping him semi-upright was the counter. "We should both get cleaned up. And get some sleep. Look, I'll set my alarm for…let's see, it's 3:15 now…for 8, and I'll round and see how our patients are doing. And then…well, your place or mine?"
"Simon, are you sayin' you want to sleep with me?"
"Well, let's sleep separately tonight. And then tomorrow…later…whenever this is…let's make love. If that's all right with you. If you want to."
"Hell with that!" Kaylee said, reaching under the apron to stick her hand between two of Simon's shirt buttons. "I can sleep when I'm dead!"
A couple of hours later, Jayne woke up, muzzily, with a cast immobilizing his right arm and a gigantic IV needle with three bags feeding into it immobilizing his left arm (which was tethered to a foam board). His eyes flew open. River was standing next to the bed, holding something on a ribbon, occasionally swinging it back and forth.
"What's that you got there, girl?"
"A medal for you," River said. "You transcended yourself. Although the others are distracted from recognizing it, you achieved heroism. And now you're awake." She threw the ribbon over his head, and pulled it down behind his head.
"So you ain't mad at me no more?" Jayne asked.
"Oh, I can cherish grudges interminably," River said comfortably. "But in this instance, I believe congratulations are in order."
Jayne tried to look around furtively but couldn't really turn his head. "River, I need you to do something for me. I gotta know. Now that your head's got better, your brother's the rankin' wing nut in the family. He didn't cut off my nuts or nothin' while I was out, did he?"
River unbuttoned Jayne's fly, reached in, and patted his balls. He gave a strangled cry. Then she wrapped her hand around his cock and gazed down at it with detached scientific curiosity. "There are no anatomical deficits," she reported. "Clearly at least some residual erectile capacity is retained."
"Damn right it is," he said. "Only thing wrong is that Vernon needs more of the same."
It was surprising how quietly Mal could move for a man on crutches. "Jayne, you get your john thomas outta that little girl's hand stat! She ain't even tall enough to be your daughter!"
"If she was my daughter, Mal, can't see how that'd make this look any better," Jayne said. "Anyway, even for a crook, that's a damn funny sense o'justice you got, blamin' the victim. I'm all tied down here, y'know, like the fella with the tiny little folks-littler'n River even-and I ain't the one who can do oogly mind things to make folks do stuff, she is."
"River, is he botherin' you?" Mal asked, turning to River.
"He asked me to perform an act of mercy," she said. She didn't look upset, so Mal gave up. "Y'ain't seen the doc, have you?" "Last I saw, he was asleep on top of Kaylee," she said. "Making a piquant reversal from that time she was asleep on top of him in Canton."
Jayne lifted his head up as far as he could, which wasn't very. "What….little Kaylee and the Doc are…?"
"Two and a half times," River said. "They just sort of collapsed before they could finish that third one."
Mal shook his head. "And every day the Encyclopedia of I Can't Be Knowin' That sprouts another chapter. Well, I 'spose it can wait till they come up for air and nourishment." He pivoted on the crutches and headed out.
"If you're gonna leave your hand there all day, you could kinda not just park it," Jayne said.
River gave him an opaque stare. "Well, considering that my options are quasi-incestuous Electra complex, literally incestuous, adulterous, or homosexual….I suppose that makes you the only man in the world for me. Ummm, what do you want me to do?"
Mal caught up with Simon at the dining room table. "Woke up in your bunk this morning," Mal said. "Tryin' to tell me somethin'? And what's Kaylee gonna have to say about it?"
A blush tinted Simon's gray cheeks. "You should be in someone's bed instead of up and around undoing my work," he said. "We put you in my room because it's level with the corridor and has a sliding door and no ladder, of course. Jayne's in River's room for the same reason."
"Ain't the only reason, far's I can tell."
"Oh my God…when he heals up I'll kill him."
"Wouldn't be my advice for her neither, like anyone takes my advice nohow, but she's a grown woman now, and you got to accept that."
"She's just…she's practically a child."
"She's eighteen, Simon. And I knew soldiers years younger than that, and strong men and strong women all of 'em. But I didn't just come here to tell you that."
"It's all right, my day was ruined anyhow. What did you want?"
"Report," Mal said, awkwardly seating himself in the chair Simon pulled for him and leaning the crutches against the table.
"Well, first of all, I don't know what's going to happen to Wash. He has rather less in the way of lungs that when I started in on him, so pneumonia is a real possibility. He's strong, so I think he can recover from the stroke he had in the middle of the operation, but I could be wrong about that too. As for yourself, I put your kneecap back where it's supposed to be, but I can't imagine that it's very comfortable, you had several sword slashes, you took quite a beating, probably causing some internal bleeding, and I must say I wouldn't have put that neural cluster there but it seems to have performed its decoy function quite well. Jayne's shoulder is smashed, I filled in with synthetic bone but…"
"Is he gonna be all right? And which arm is it?"
"His right," Simon said, furious with guilt. "And he's got torn ligaments" {{from carrying you}} he refrained from saying. "I don't know. We'll try physical therapy. And maybe if I'd had better tools at my disposal than…an assortment of blunt plastic cutlery that would be a disgrace to a…to a dogwagon…and a team of surgical assistants instead of a grease monkey…" Simon ground to a halt, realizing that with his luck Kaylee would be standing outside the door and he'd have to grovel back to Square One.
"How's Zo'? You ain't mentioned her yet."
"You know, in other company, she would be considered quite seriously injured, but around here, one dum-dum bullet in the thigh and an in-and-out through the arm hardly counts as an amuse-bouche. I got her patched up. A lot will depend on her attitude, and that in turn depends on how Wash gets along. I know she could use some therapy, but…it's just not anything I can do for her. Mal, we're flat, I've used up everything in the Medbay, the next sonofawhore goat-raper that gets a goddamned paper cut is going to have to put moldy bread on it…"
"You kiss your mother with that mouth? Mal said, amused at the changes time had wrought.
"Not recently," Simon said, and giggled.
"I see the cockpit's been cleaned up," Mal said.
"Yeah. We didn't-big surprise-have a surplus windshield, but at least we could sweep up the broken one. And try to get the bloodstains out of the pilot's chair. With limited success. Kaylee and River are working on fixing the landing gear now. I went down and hindered them for a little while, I felt I owed it to Kaylee to not know what she wanted me to hand her so she could yell at me, but she saw through that little ploy and threw me out. So we've got a one-armed mercenary and a limping First Mate and her husband the hemiplegic pilot, which could be a severe problem if we were in a position to go anywhere…Mal, I think we've really outdone ourselves this time."
Mal started to giggle too, and when the wave came in from the Cortex, Mal had to wipe his streaming eyes before he could answer it.
"Huh….wha?" Mal told the screen. "How'd you even know where to find me?"
"I'm a journalist," said the woman on the screen. "I've got sources."
"Well, go 'way," Mal said.
"My viewers want to hear more from the man who got the Message out."
"Folks in hell want ice water," Mal said.
"I can pay ten thousand credits for an interview," she said.
"Y'know, that checkbook journalism gets a bad rap," Mal said. "In that not-fair way." They quickly arranged for payment in cash and a neutral meeting place. It probably didn't matter that she knew where they were now, because, if they had 10,000 credits, then they could fix Serenity right up and get gone.
Still, Mal didn't want to go alone, and Jayne didn't present much of a picture of terror, and Simon and River were still, collectively, at Public Enemy Number 4. Mal sighed, and hoped that he could get Zoe to come-with, and that he wouldn't need her.
Meanwhile, Zoe started out of her uneasy doze feeling the press of Wash's hand on hers. She bolted upright in terror, listening for a death rattle. Instead, Wash tried to turn his head-it didn't turn very far-and opened his eyes. They didn't match; the pupil of one was fixed, blown wide open. "Zo'," he said. "My lit….lit….flow…" He looked at her stomach. "You…w're….ri'…." and fell asleep, knocked out by the effort.
When Zoe saw that nothing worse had happened, she left her elbow crutch hung on the chair, and made her way stiffly along the corridor, holding on to the wall, to tell Mal. The first person she encountered was Jayne, and after she explained, he held on to her, and mopped his eyes with the dishtowel and then gave her the dishtowel to primp herself up.
"Well, if this ain't the life," Jayne said the next day, digging into his share of the big, juicy rare steak even if River had to cut it up for him, and even if the Doc said he wasn't supposed to drink while he was still taking germ pills. Wash nodded slowly-Zoe had to cut up his steak for him too. Mal managed fine on his own.
Simon didn't think Kaylee would be very interested in a rare steak, and his own anti-red-meat prejudices from first term Medacad had been re-activated by seeing rather more of the insides of his colleagues than he cared for. At first, he'd planned on having Mal pick up a couple of portions of Chicken Kiev for them, on his way back from the studio, but once again, anything that spurted when you stuck a knife into it….So he and Kaylee had some very, very white fish croquettes in a very, very white sauce, although she was a lot less interested in the meal than in the prospect of the repair parts Mal and Zoe also brought back on their way from the studio.
"We got popcorn?" Jayne asked.
"Some to eat and some to throw," River promised.
The broadwave started up. "Omigawd," Mal said. "I can't believe my nose is that big…"
"This is Captain Malcolm Reynolds," the journalist intoned. "Exiled Browncoat, outlaw, underground hero. The man who broke Mirandagate." On the screen, Mal opened and closed his mouth a few times, waiting for an opening. Finally, he just took one.
"Friend of mine went once where they juggle geese," he said. "Well, the Parliament tried to juggle the propa ganda but that dog won't hunt. They took a whole planet of folks and hurt 'em to death and lied about it. Folks that coulda been your mother, or your son. And the icing on the cake, is that they made Reavers, and if you know how to get rid of 'em, or make 'em be normal again, then just let me know."
A scan of a hologram filled the screen. "It's been said that you associate with wanted terrorist "Doctor Simon," the perpetrator of the bloody raid on a school for troubled adolescents?"
"Rumors!" Mal said. "Ruthless tumors…I mean, truthless rumors. And wasn't that a suicide attack anywhichway?" He fixed his wide-eyed innocent gaze directly on the camera. "All's we did, was expose wrongdoing by a few mavericks among our fine elected officials. Terrorism is bad, kids. And stay in school."
"Commando raid? That don't exactly add up with what you told us before," Jayne pointed out.
"Well, I…." Simon said, and looked down at the floor.
"Awww, you look real handsome in that blue jacket," Kaylee said. "You still got it?"
"You kiddin'?" Jayne said. "He never throws nothin' out."
"Thank you, Malcolm Reynolds. And now, a word from our sponsor."
(Troynovant Gated Community, Persephone)
In rather more luxurious surroundings, an ill-assorted trio watched the broadwave: an old man in a wheelchair, his skin as white as a bleached skull in the desert; a young man dark as rich lowland soil, with his chin propped by a surgical collar, crutches flipped out from his elbows; and a young woman with red hair, who didn't seem to have much wrong with her at all. "He's alive," the woman said, and her companions' eyes lit up. Because Revenge, too, is something to believe in.
A couple of months after the battle, Simon sat in the Infirmary, making a list and constantly deleting it and starting again. He sighed, knowing that Kaylee would be upset when he stopped using the metal doctor's bag she had made for him, but unwilling to go out in the field again without having both his hands free. Anyway, the damn box weighed five kilos empty. He thought that he could get Kaylee to fabricate some lightweight body armor for the crew (with expandable side straps for Zoe, of course), and his could be a kind of turtle shell with a pack on the back…
Simon decided that two dozen morphine injectors was about right for a field kit, and they were small and didn't weigh much anyway. Two…no, one syringe of adrenaline…the broad-spectrum antibiotic powder came in a round canister, and he wondered if it could be re-packed in something flat. Maybe a box with a threaded top. A battlefield transfusion rig would fold up small, but that would depend on having a donor available. He could buy freeze-dried plazrep powder, but it was expensive, and he couldn't always count on having clean water…
"Hey, Jayne," Mal said. "What were you doin' arm-wrasslin' with Wash when you was supposed to be unloadin' those plasteel sheets for Kaylee?"
"Physical therapy," Jayne said.
"Well, get to work," Mal said, and Jayne grumbled but got down to moving the big, floppy sheets of stock from the cargo bay to the engine room.
River strolled past the open door of the Infirmary. "Kaylee's in the Dining Area carrying on," she announced. Simon hit the Comm to listen in and heard Kaylee's shriek followed by sobbing. He ran pell-mell to the dining room. At first, all he could see was backs, so he ran into the room and around the group of people.
Wash grasped one of Zoe's hands in his good hand, and tears ran down one side of his face. Kaylee had her face buried in Zoe's shoulder, and was sobbing and bouncing up and down. In the crappy ship where she was one of the heroes, someone could have made a pretty good statue of Zoe, standing there with her legs spread wide and her face upthrust, her hair streaming loose, and her other hand high above her head, clutching the plastic wand with its tip glowing pink.
5000 words; rating: Soft R
For: settiai
Simon/Kaylee, Wash/Zoe, Jayne/River
Prompt: AU post-Serenity, someone finds out they're pregnant, two people get caught in a compromising situation in a semi-public area of Serenity.
NOTE: The parts of the story in italics take place "now"; the regular text in the middle is a flashback.
"Are you sure, Zoe?" Simon asked.
"Hell, yes, Doc," she said. "You ever seen me namby-pamby?"
"I can't say I have, no," Simon said.
"Almost lost him, Doc," Zoe said. "Still could lose him. Some ways, our life's got chancier even than before."
"But isn't that an argument against…."
"No, Simon, it ain't," she said. "If we can make this baby, if one of us goes, hell, if both of us go, then the kid'll still have a family here."
Simon sighed. "All right," he said. "I'll give you a little topical anaesthetic. The implant is designed to slide right out, and then I'll put a stitch or two in the incision and put a small bandage over it. Try to keep the bandage dry and clean for a day or so, and then you can remove it."
"I am a leaf on the wind!" Wash said. "Watch me soar!"
Mal looked around sourly at the chaos in the cockpit and when his teeth stopped chattering he counted up the cost of fixing all the smashed parts. "That's comin' out of your paycheck, bubba," he said.
Then the harpoon smashed through the windshield and pinned Wash to the seat.
{{Dead men don't scream}} Jayne thought to steady himself. {{So that's good, ain't it?}}
Simon started to yell for Wash to get the chainsaw, but realized the illogicality of that tactic, so he yelled for Kaylee to get it. {{Probably just as well to get her away from the sight of all that blood}} Simon thought, desperately hoping that he had enough plazrep to transfuse. Or, worst of all, that he'd run it all through Wash, who would die on the table leaving no more supplies for the rest of the wounded who could be expected that day.
Everyone grabbed some part or another of Wash and they got him to the medbay. Simon slammed an oxygen mask over Wash's face and started cutting away at the bloodstained palm trees on Wash's shirt.
"Zoe, River, Jayne…out!" Simon ordered as he scrubbed up. They gave him a Three Bears trio of dirty looks but obeyed. "Mal," Simon whispered, "When we had the fire, and you ordered Wash into the cockpit, because you didn't want him there when Zoe died…"
"You think that's what I did?" Mal asked. "Doc, I'm in charge here, and when I give orders, someone better jump to 'em."
"Good," Simon said. "Whatever your reason, just take Zoe with you. Don't let her stay here. And don't take Kaylee. I need her help."
{{On the off chance we're still alive come Christmas, that boy's gettin' a lump of coal in his stocking}} Mal thought. "What'd I just say? I give the orders, you don't."
"Please let me stay," Kaylee said, watching Simon try to grow himself a third or fourth hand as he started an IV and set up vital-sign monitors. "I'd be flat no good to you at takin' bad lives, maybe here I can help save a good one."
Mal stalked out, not deigning to provide a response.
(Mr. Universe's Complex)
"Got your copies?" Mal asked.
"Helluva time to think of it now if we ain't," Jayne said. Zoe just nodded.
Mal put his left hand on Jayne's shoulder and his right on Zoe's. "Godspeed," he said, and then kicked himself as soon as he said it. "C'mon," he said, and turned his back and headed off to work. He missed Inara, knowing that maybe that would be his last thought, but he was glad that after he went to the training house to fight the Operative, Inara had agreed to stay put instead of coming back to Serenity and muddling things up even worse than they were anyway.
"You'll feel better once the fightin' starts," Jayne told Zoe encouragingly. {{Poor Wash gotta be dead by now}}he thought. "Like a spring tonic."
"Today is a good day to die," Zoe said.
"That's the choke point there," Jayne said, pointing down from the little room that held the workings for the huge doors. "Them bein' insane cannibals and all, they'll prolly expect us to be down there." Then they settled down to wait. It didn't take long for the doors to be ripped open and a boiling tide of Reavers to rush into the room.
Jayne let Zoe do the honors with the first grenade, but deployed the second one himself a few minutes later. "Damn, they ain't supposed to have automatic weapons," he said.
Zoe just shrugged. "Well, if they can fly ships…"
It turned out to be a good plan, because there were so many Reaver wounded that their comrades got…distracted, and only a few swarmed up to the control room.
(Serenity)
"Hey," Kaylee said. "I noticed you didn't say nothin' about not lettin' River go Even though you took a swing at Mal for takin' her along."
Simon shook his head. "Good times! No, Kaylee, I didn't…I don't think that…we…I…still don't know the scope of what was done to her. But clearly, the outcome of those atrocities was, or it included, remarkable strength and ability to fight. If she can use those powers now, it may be some reparation for what was done to her. Even, directly, some vengeance."
One of the alarms went off. {{Oh, Christ}} Simon thought. Blood clot…right…there…"Get me the thrombase, stat!" he yelled. When nothing happened, he continued, "Where did you get your training? Remedial veterinary school? This man is having a stroke right now and I need the…"
He looked up, saw Kaylee's brimming eyes over her splattered mask, and remembered where he was. "Kaylee, I'm so sorry. I should never have said that. But I need the big syringe…wrapped up in greeny-blue shrinkfilm…in the, ummm, third drawer from the left, second from the top. And Wash really needs it fast."
Simon ripped the wrappings loose {{No time}} he thought, and jammed the syringe right where he expected the blood clot to be. The alarm stopped shrieking, but meanwhile another teacupful of blood had spilled out of the bleeder Simon had been repairing when Wash threw the clot…
(Mr. Universe's Complex-The Broadcast Tower)
Yeah, the robot, still throwing her ventriloquist's voice, had the right of it. The room was damn hard to find, and it would be more than a stroll in the park anyway. How much didn't it help for that Operative fellow to be up in his face, with the result that Mal was frequently down on it, as he got in a few good licks himself but mostly absorbed vicious kicks and punches.
Mal developed instant nostalgia for the kicks and punches when the Operative unsheathed his sword, which wasn't quite as pantywaist a weapon as it looked if you were on the receiving end.
More times than once, Mal thought that he was done for, but he dragged himself up off the ground-well, off the slatted metal walkways and returned to the fight. And then there was a rattle of chains and it refreshed him like a cool drink in a hot day's labor.
"You know what your problem is?" he asked the Operative. "When you're playin' Hide the Thimble, you forget to count how many thimbles there is under them walnut shells."
River, in perfect arabesque, swung in on the chain, made a graceful landing, and pulled a disk out of her blouse. As she inserted it in the Broadcast head, she turned around to the Operative. "We each had a copy," she said.
The momentary distraction in the Operative's attention was enough for Mal to slide his hands behind the Operative's head and break his neck. Then he arranged the limp body facing the monitors that were already, unstoppably, playing the Miranda tape. "Enjoy the show," Mal said. And then, as the impact of his own injuries crashed through, he fell to his knees and forward onto his face. "Can't crawl no more, little albatross," Mal said.
River hit the button, and the metal bridge unit unfolded and joined up with the catwalk where she stood and Mal lay. She crouched and sort of rolled and tugged at Mal's unresisting body. Some would have minded being so high up, on such a slim bridge, with so far to fall and a heavy body to transport.
To River, the only way to improve it would have been to throw in some stars.
(The ruins of Serenity)
The comm went. "We're home," River said, and Kaylee ran down to the cargo bay to open the door, and Simon ran down to triage whoever might have survived. It was River's voice, so she was alive, and so was at least one other person.
The door opened, and Zoe leaned heavily on River and Jayne more-or-less carried Mal, and everyone was bruised and drenched in somebody's blood but they were all alive. Simon closed his eyes, running a fast Cannibals-and-Missionaries simulation to handle the logistics. "River, can you walk?" he asked her.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Okay. That's fine. That's excellent. Zoe, Wash is still alive. He's badly hurt, and you'll be surprised to see the number of places I found to insert tubes in. But alive, and I'll do my best to keep him that way for you. So if you and Jayne can sort of sit here for a while, preferably not on anything pointedly infectious, River and Kaylee and I are going to move Wash into your bed to recuperate. On the stretcher-River? Kaylee? You know, the one with the wheels? Then I'll be down here with some painkillers for you and we'll wheel Mal up to surgery and I'll take care of him-you can tell, he's the worst off of the three of you-and then I'll loop back for you guys. Kaylee, River, mashang!"
"You better hope Mal can't hear you," Jayne said. "Otherwise he'd kick your ass, you orderin' everyone about like that."
Hours later, Simon said, "Jayne. Hello. Count backward from thirty, and I'll start working on you when you're under."
Jayne blanched. "You ain't said nothin' mean to me! That means I'm gonna die and you ain't gonna insult a dying man!"
"Well, I'm off my game," Simon said. "Jayne, I don't think you're going to die. I left you till last-well, subconsciously maybe because I don't like you-but, objectively speaking, your injuries are the least serious. I have every confidence that between my skills and your sheer obduracy you will shrug off these injuries as you have so many in the past. All right. Listen, when you go to sleep there's a little, uh, procedure I can take care of. You won't be so aggressive, and you won't feel the compulsion to mark your territory, which will come as a great relief to everyone who has cleanup duty. Now will you count backward for me?"
"I think that's all we can do now," Simon said, looking around the very crowded infirmary. Wash had been moved out, and Zoe sat at his side, drowsing from the meds for her own injuries. Mal lay on the back bed in the Infirmary, crashed out with shock and exhaustion, the ship's spare IV rig pumping plazrep and glucose and healing promoters, antibiotics and opiods. Jayne, on the treatment bed, no longer had two bullets in him, and the shrapnel had been picked out, but Simon thought that repairing the smashed shoulder had better wait until later, when the foam cast would be made and cured by the parts replicator lathe. And, Simon had to admit, when the surgeon could see straight.
Simon reached down into one of the cupboards, where he kept a small iron teapot and a precious stash of first-flush white tea. He filled the pot from the boiling-water spigot, and found the bottle of brandy and the sugar basin. He handed Kaylee a cup. "Here. It kills the taste of the brandy," he said. "Kaylee, you were magnificent. I can't-the whole crew can't-thank you enough for what you did."
"You yelled and me and said I flunked out of vet school," Kaylee said.
"Yes, and I'm very sorry. I never should have said that to you. I was scared, Kaylee, I didn't know if Wash was going to make it. And I was mad at myself because I should have laid out that syringe myself, because I should have been ready for the possibility. And you were doing such a good job that I forgot I wasn't still in Cap City Mem, with a team of real surgical nurses. Truly."
"But I tossed my cookies!" Kaylee said. "A lot!"
"But in the wastebasket!" Simon said gallantly. "Every time!" He reached out his hand, noticed that it was still sheathed in a heavily bloodstained latex glove, and pulled off the gloves and tossed them at the hazmats bin. They landed neatly on top. He touched his fingertips to Kaylee's face, then withdrew them. "Kaylee, a person without fear has no courage. The courage…and strength…you've shown are incredible. You just went back in and did what you had to, no matter how much it frightened you, or disgusted you. And that's an important reason why Wash is still alive. Why Zoe-well, she wasn't hurt as badly-and Mal, and Jayne-although perhaps we may have some second thoughts about that later-are still alive."
Simon finished the tea hurriedly (the taste of the brandy was still fairly perceptible), put the cup down on the counter, and leaned toward Kaylee.
"Don't kiss me!" Kaylee yelled.
"Oh," Simon said, drawing back. "I'm sorry…I thought that…if anything, I had waited too long I guess I did wait too long. Until after your kiss-by date."
"No, that ain't it, but if my mouth tastes like a yak died in it to me"
Simon smiled and realized that actually the only thing keeping him semi-upright was the counter. "We should both get cleaned up. And get some sleep. Look, I'll set my alarm for…let's see, it's 3:15 now…for 8, and I'll round and see how our patients are doing. And then…well, your place or mine?"
"Simon, are you sayin' you want to sleep with me?"
"Well, let's sleep separately tonight. And then tomorrow…later…whenever this is…let's make love. If that's all right with you. If you want to."
"Hell with that!" Kaylee said, reaching under the apron to stick her hand between two of Simon's shirt buttons. "I can sleep when I'm dead!"
A couple of hours later, Jayne woke up, muzzily, with a cast immobilizing his right arm and a gigantic IV needle with three bags feeding into it immobilizing his left arm (which was tethered to a foam board). His eyes flew open. River was standing next to the bed, holding something on a ribbon, occasionally swinging it back and forth.
"What's that you got there, girl?"
"A medal for you," River said. "You transcended yourself. Although the others are distracted from recognizing it, you achieved heroism. And now you're awake." She threw the ribbon over his head, and pulled it down behind his head.
"So you ain't mad at me no more?" Jayne asked.
"Oh, I can cherish grudges interminably," River said comfortably. "But in this instance, I believe congratulations are in order."
Jayne tried to look around furtively but couldn't really turn his head. "River, I need you to do something for me. I gotta know. Now that your head's got better, your brother's the rankin' wing nut in the family. He didn't cut off my nuts or nothin' while I was out, did he?"
River unbuttoned Jayne's fly, reached in, and patted his balls. He gave a strangled cry. Then she wrapped her hand around his cock and gazed down at it with detached scientific curiosity. "There are no anatomical deficits," she reported. "Clearly at least some residual erectile capacity is retained."
"Damn right it is," he said. "Only thing wrong is that Vernon needs more of the same."
It was surprising how quietly Mal could move for a man on crutches. "Jayne, you get your john thomas outta that little girl's hand stat! She ain't even tall enough to be your daughter!"
"If she was my daughter, Mal, can't see how that'd make this look any better," Jayne said. "Anyway, even for a crook, that's a damn funny sense o'justice you got, blamin' the victim. I'm all tied down here, y'know, like the fella with the tiny little folks-littler'n River even-and I ain't the one who can do oogly mind things to make folks do stuff, she is."
"River, is he botherin' you?" Mal asked, turning to River.
"He asked me to perform an act of mercy," she said. She didn't look upset, so Mal gave up. "Y'ain't seen the doc, have you?" "Last I saw, he was asleep on top of Kaylee," she said. "Making a piquant reversal from that time she was asleep on top of him in Canton."
Jayne lifted his head up as far as he could, which wasn't very. "What….little Kaylee and the Doc are…?"
"Two and a half times," River said. "They just sort of collapsed before they could finish that third one."
Mal shook his head. "And every day the Encyclopedia of I Can't Be Knowin' That sprouts another chapter. Well, I 'spose it can wait till they come up for air and nourishment." He pivoted on the crutches and headed out.
"If you're gonna leave your hand there all day, you could kinda not just park it," Jayne said.
River gave him an opaque stare. "Well, considering that my options are quasi-incestuous Electra complex, literally incestuous, adulterous, or homosexual….I suppose that makes you the only man in the world for me. Ummm, what do you want me to do?"
Mal caught up with Simon at the dining room table. "Woke up in your bunk this morning," Mal said. "Tryin' to tell me somethin'? And what's Kaylee gonna have to say about it?"
A blush tinted Simon's gray cheeks. "You should be in someone's bed instead of up and around undoing my work," he said. "We put you in my room because it's level with the corridor and has a sliding door and no ladder, of course. Jayne's in River's room for the same reason."
"Ain't the only reason, far's I can tell."
"Oh my God…when he heals up I'll kill him."
"Wouldn't be my advice for her neither, like anyone takes my advice nohow, but she's a grown woman now, and you got to accept that."
"She's just…she's practically a child."
"She's eighteen, Simon. And I knew soldiers years younger than that, and strong men and strong women all of 'em. But I didn't just come here to tell you that."
"It's all right, my day was ruined anyhow. What did you want?"
"Report," Mal said, awkwardly seating himself in the chair Simon pulled for him and leaning the crutches against the table.
"Well, first of all, I don't know what's going to happen to Wash. He has rather less in the way of lungs that when I started in on him, so pneumonia is a real possibility. He's strong, so I think he can recover from the stroke he had in the middle of the operation, but I could be wrong about that too. As for yourself, I put your kneecap back where it's supposed to be, but I can't imagine that it's very comfortable, you had several sword slashes, you took quite a beating, probably causing some internal bleeding, and I must say I wouldn't have put that neural cluster there but it seems to have performed its decoy function quite well. Jayne's shoulder is smashed, I filled in with synthetic bone but…"
"Is he gonna be all right? And which arm is it?"
"His right," Simon said, furious with guilt. "And he's got torn ligaments" {{from carrying you}} he refrained from saying. "I don't know. We'll try physical therapy. And maybe if I'd had better tools at my disposal than…an assortment of blunt plastic cutlery that would be a disgrace to a…to a dogwagon…and a team of surgical assistants instead of a grease monkey…" Simon ground to a halt, realizing that with his luck Kaylee would be standing outside the door and he'd have to grovel back to Square One.
"How's Zo'? You ain't mentioned her yet."
"You know, in other company, she would be considered quite seriously injured, but around here, one dum-dum bullet in the thigh and an in-and-out through the arm hardly counts as an amuse-bouche. I got her patched up. A lot will depend on her attitude, and that in turn depends on how Wash gets along. I know she could use some therapy, but…it's just not anything I can do for her. Mal, we're flat, I've used up everything in the Medbay, the next sonofawhore goat-raper that gets a goddamned paper cut is going to have to put moldy bread on it…"
"You kiss your mother with that mouth? Mal said, amused at the changes time had wrought.
"Not recently," Simon said, and giggled.
"I see the cockpit's been cleaned up," Mal said.
"Yeah. We didn't-big surprise-have a surplus windshield, but at least we could sweep up the broken one. And try to get the bloodstains out of the pilot's chair. With limited success. Kaylee and River are working on fixing the landing gear now. I went down and hindered them for a little while, I felt I owed it to Kaylee to not know what she wanted me to hand her so she could yell at me, but she saw through that little ploy and threw me out. So we've got a one-armed mercenary and a limping First Mate and her husband the hemiplegic pilot, which could be a severe problem if we were in a position to go anywhere…Mal, I think we've really outdone ourselves this time."
Mal started to giggle too, and when the wave came in from the Cortex, Mal had to wipe his streaming eyes before he could answer it.
"Huh….wha?" Mal told the screen. "How'd you even know where to find me?"
"I'm a journalist," said the woman on the screen. "I've got sources."
"Well, go 'way," Mal said.
"My viewers want to hear more from the man who got the Message out."
"Folks in hell want ice water," Mal said.
"I can pay ten thousand credits for an interview," she said.
"Y'know, that checkbook journalism gets a bad rap," Mal said. "In that not-fair way." They quickly arranged for payment in cash and a neutral meeting place. It probably didn't matter that she knew where they were now, because, if they had 10,000 credits, then they could fix Serenity right up and get gone.
Still, Mal didn't want to go alone, and Jayne didn't present much of a picture of terror, and Simon and River were still, collectively, at Public Enemy Number 4. Mal sighed, and hoped that he could get Zoe to come-with, and that he wouldn't need her.
Meanwhile, Zoe started out of her uneasy doze feeling the press of Wash's hand on hers. She bolted upright in terror, listening for a death rattle. Instead, Wash tried to turn his head-it didn't turn very far-and opened his eyes. They didn't match; the pupil of one was fixed, blown wide open. "Zo'," he said. "My lit….lit….flow…" He looked at her stomach. "You…w're….ri'…." and fell asleep, knocked out by the effort.
When Zoe saw that nothing worse had happened, she left her elbow crutch hung on the chair, and made her way stiffly along the corridor, holding on to the wall, to tell Mal. The first person she encountered was Jayne, and after she explained, he held on to her, and mopped his eyes with the dishtowel and then gave her the dishtowel to primp herself up.
"Well, if this ain't the life," Jayne said the next day, digging into his share of the big, juicy rare steak even if River had to cut it up for him, and even if the Doc said he wasn't supposed to drink while he was still taking germ pills. Wash nodded slowly-Zoe had to cut up his steak for him too. Mal managed fine on his own.
Simon didn't think Kaylee would be very interested in a rare steak, and his own anti-red-meat prejudices from first term Medacad had been re-activated by seeing rather more of the insides of his colleagues than he cared for. At first, he'd planned on having Mal pick up a couple of portions of Chicken Kiev for them, on his way back from the studio, but once again, anything that spurted when you stuck a knife into it….So he and Kaylee had some very, very white fish croquettes in a very, very white sauce, although she was a lot less interested in the meal than in the prospect of the repair parts Mal and Zoe also brought back on their way from the studio.
"We got popcorn?" Jayne asked.
"Some to eat and some to throw," River promised.
The broadwave started up. "Omigawd," Mal said. "I can't believe my nose is that big…"
"This is Captain Malcolm Reynolds," the journalist intoned. "Exiled Browncoat, outlaw, underground hero. The man who broke Mirandagate." On the screen, Mal opened and closed his mouth a few times, waiting for an opening. Finally, he just took one.
"Friend of mine went once where they juggle geese," he said. "Well, the Parliament tried to juggle the propa ganda but that dog won't hunt. They took a whole planet of folks and hurt 'em to death and lied about it. Folks that coulda been your mother, or your son. And the icing on the cake, is that they made Reavers, and if you know how to get rid of 'em, or make 'em be normal again, then just let me know."
A scan of a hologram filled the screen. "It's been said that you associate with wanted terrorist "Doctor Simon," the perpetrator of the bloody raid on a school for troubled adolescents?"
"Rumors!" Mal said. "Ruthless tumors…I mean, truthless rumors. And wasn't that a suicide attack anywhichway?" He fixed his wide-eyed innocent gaze directly on the camera. "All's we did, was expose wrongdoing by a few mavericks among our fine elected officials. Terrorism is bad, kids. And stay in school."
"Commando raid? That don't exactly add up with what you told us before," Jayne pointed out.
"Well, I…." Simon said, and looked down at the floor.
"Awww, you look real handsome in that blue jacket," Kaylee said. "You still got it?"
"You kiddin'?" Jayne said. "He never throws nothin' out."
"Thank you, Malcolm Reynolds. And now, a word from our sponsor."
(Troynovant Gated Community, Persephone)
In rather more luxurious surroundings, an ill-assorted trio watched the broadwave: an old man in a wheelchair, his skin as white as a bleached skull in the desert; a young man dark as rich lowland soil, with his chin propped by a surgical collar, crutches flipped out from his elbows; and a young woman with red hair, who didn't seem to have much wrong with her at all. "He's alive," the woman said, and her companions' eyes lit up. Because Revenge, too, is something to believe in.
A couple of months after the battle, Simon sat in the Infirmary, making a list and constantly deleting it and starting again. He sighed, knowing that Kaylee would be upset when he stopped using the metal doctor's bag she had made for him, but unwilling to go out in the field again without having both his hands free. Anyway, the damn box weighed five kilos empty. He thought that he could get Kaylee to fabricate some lightweight body armor for the crew (with expandable side straps for Zoe, of course), and his could be a kind of turtle shell with a pack on the back…
Simon decided that two dozen morphine injectors was about right for a field kit, and they were small and didn't weigh much anyway. Two…no, one syringe of adrenaline…the broad-spectrum antibiotic powder came in a round canister, and he wondered if it could be re-packed in something flat. Maybe a box with a threaded top. A battlefield transfusion rig would fold up small, but that would depend on having a donor available. He could buy freeze-dried plazrep powder, but it was expensive, and he couldn't always count on having clean water…
"Hey, Jayne," Mal said. "What were you doin' arm-wrasslin' with Wash when you was supposed to be unloadin' those plasteel sheets for Kaylee?"
"Physical therapy," Jayne said.
"Well, get to work," Mal said, and Jayne grumbled but got down to moving the big, floppy sheets of stock from the cargo bay to the engine room.
River strolled past the open door of the Infirmary. "Kaylee's in the Dining Area carrying on," she announced. Simon hit the Comm to listen in and heard Kaylee's shriek followed by sobbing. He ran pell-mell to the dining room. At first, all he could see was backs, so he ran into the room and around the group of people.
Wash grasped one of Zoe's hands in his good hand, and tears ran down one side of his face. Kaylee had her face buried in Zoe's shoulder, and was sobbing and bouncing up and down. In the crappy ship where she was one of the heroes, someone could have made a pretty good statue of Zoe, standing there with her legs spread wide and her face upthrust, her hair streaming loose, and her other hand high above her head, clutching the plastic wand with its tip glowing pink.