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Wounds from the Past
By: Juli, nancy, Peach, sffan, Eleanor K., Karah Ross, Maggie, Rach, Ty Wiles, kirby crow, Dariclone, MidnightBlue0162, Cabiria, and skripka.
Email: woundsfromthepast@yahoo.com (see each chapter for individual author email addresses)
Pairings: Simon/other, Simon/Jayne, Mal/other, Mal/Simon, Mal/Simon/Jayne
Rating: See individual chapters
Summary: What begins with an unpleasant dream soon changes into a living nightmare.
Disclaimer: "Firefly" and its characters belong to Fox and Mutant Enemy. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended.
Special Note: From June - December 2003, fourteen writers from the Firefly Slash list participated in a round robin. The resulting story lasted 34 chapters, 150+ pages (depending on how your format it) and has been compiled for you here. If you would like to send feedback to the group as a whole, please use the address listed at the archive or, if you prefer to send feedback to individual authors, look for the emails at the beginning of each chapter.
Special thanks to Eli for giving the round robin a home while it was in progress and to sffan for beta-reading the completed beast.
Chapter 1: Haunted by Juli
Chapter 2: Haunted part 2 by Nancy
Chapter 3: Understanding by Peach
Chapter 4: Protection by sffan
Chapter 5: The Direct Approach by Eleanor K. Chapter 6: The Devil Speaks by Karah Ross Chapter 7: Circular by Maggie
Chapter 8: The Future; The Past by Rach Chapter 9: The Discussion by Ty Wiles
Chapter 10: Turnabout by Kirby Crow
Chapter 11: Insight by Dariclone
Chapter 12: Timing by MidnightBlue0162
Chapter 13: Blood in the Water by Juli
Chapter 14: Turning the Tables by Nancy Chapter 15: Sharing Simon by Peach
Chapter 16: Into the Fire by Sffan
Chapter 17: The Coming Night by Eleanor K. Chapter 18: So Long as Love Shall Last by Karah Ross Chapter 19: Above and Below by MidnightBlue0162 Chapter 20: The Bitter Pill by Ty Wiles Chapter 21: Just My Imagination by Kirby Crow Chapter 22: Running Out of Time by Dariclone Chapter 23: Folded by Cabiria
Chapter 24: The Flying Dutchman by Skripka Chapter 25: Faith by Nancy
Chapter 26: Pulling the Fangs by Peach
Chapter 27: Breathing Space by Sffan
Chapter 28: An Ounce of Redemption by Eleanor K. Chapter 29: Twisted by Karah Ross
Chapter 30: Curveball by Midnightblue0162 Chapter 31: Frown in the Face of Danger by Ty Wiles Chapter 32: Out of Harm's Way by Sffan
Chapter 33: One Chance by Skripka
Chapter 34: Folded Sky by Juli
Chapter 1: Haunted
Author: Juli
Email: challisgal@yahoo.com
Pairing(s): Simon/Other
Rating: R
Disclaimer: "Firefly" and its characters belong to Fox and Mutant Enemy. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended. Notes: Many thanks to Unovis for a speedy and thorough beta read. Any remaining mistakes are, of course, utterly my fault.Summary: Simon tries to cope with a nightmare.
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Simon's sleep was plagued by nightmares.
The young man twisted and turned on his bed, dreams invaded by large hands that squeezed too hard... mocking laughter that reverberated in his soul... and, above everything else, overwhelming feelings of humiliation and despair.
With a gasp, Simon woke, sitting straight up on his narrow mattress. His sheets were soaked with sweat and his bare chest heaved as he struggled to control himself. Control was important. He struggled to remember that as he tried to wrestle his consciousness from a tangle of restless, hagridden sleep. If there was one thing Simon had leaned from the Jubal Early debacle, it was that River was far more than a troubled teenager. He'd finally admitted to himself that his sister had abilities that she hadn't possessed before. That maybe no one had possessed before. If he didn't want her coming to find out what was wrong, he'd best contain himself and do it quick.
A soft noise at his door caught his attention. Simon was too late, River was already there. The girl padded across Simon's small quarters and gingerly perched on the edge of his bed, sitting carefully as though she was afraid of breaking something.
Simon was very much afraid that the something she was afraid of breaking was him.
"I'm sorry, mei mei, did I wake you?" Simon reached to tuck an errant lock of hair behind River's ear; as he raised his hand, he noticed it was shaking. Desperate, he aborted the motion and instead shoved it under the covers, hoping his sister hadn't seen.
River looked at him sadly. "Ghosts live in your eyes."
Simon saw her expression take that inward turning he'd come to associate with River doing... whatever it was that River did. The only thing that would make the nightmare worse would be having his baby sister share it, so Simon did something he'd never done before he shut River out.
Not knowing how his sister's abilities functioned or even what they exactly were didn't stop Simon from having a theory on how to block them. The doctor thought of bees, swarming and buzzing, little motes of energy flitting about in the summer sunshine. He thought of the molecular composition of the latest medicine that he'd used to treat River, tracing its "recipe" all the way back to the atomic table. He thought of Jayne and the little grunting noises the man made as he was chewing.
His sister's eyes crossed and she frowned at him in surprise. "That's cheating!"
Despite being shaken by his dreams, Simon grinned weakly. That pout was so very familiar, the closest to "normal" that he'd seen River in a long time.
"That's why I'm the older brother," he said. If he hadn't been so tired, his tone would have been smug. As it was, Simon just sounded emotionally drained. "Now, weren't you going to help Kaylee make pancakes this morning?"
"Yes..." the girl admitted reluctantly.
Simon pulled River close for a one-armed hug, kissing her tenderly on the forehead before shooing her on her way. "Go on, now. I'm fine."
Sighing heavily, she obediently plodded towards the door, turning for a last admonition before she left. "Ghosts don't just go `way, like bees do when the summer's over. Ghosts come back, over and over again, until you're a ghost too."
Simon waited until River was gone and the door shut behind her. Then, he calmly got up and pushed the button to extend his commode. Falling to his knees, he proceeded to vomit until his stomach felt as though it were turned inside out. He heaved until he was dry and then he pulled himself up in order to run some water in the sink. Cupping his hand, he brought water to his mouth and sipped greedily. Leaning heavily on the counter, he looked into the mirror. Haunted eyes looked back at him no wonder River spoke of ghosts.
Simon forced himself through the motions of getting ready for the day. As he did, he wondered at the nightmare that had caused him to start his morning more abruptly than he would have liked. Pritchard Smith it had been a long time since that man had plagued his sleep. It was odd that his psyche had come up with that particular demon to torment him with. Maybe it was because Mal, along with Zoe and Jayne, had disembarked the moment Serenity had touched down. No doubt it was about a contact for a job, but it didn't matter. Fact was, Serenity just didn't feel as safe to Simon when Mal wasn't aboard. The captain was a scoundrel but he'd proved time and again that he would protect the Tams, even if he didn't particularly like them. Mal was far nobler than he wanted to admit, a trait that Simon found strangely attractive.
Not wanting to pursue that line of thought, Simon shifted his attention back the man from his past. If Kaylee thought Simon an easy mark now, she should have seen him when he'd first begun his search for a way to free River. It had taken him to some dark and dangerous places places that Simon was very ill-equipped to deal with. That fateful night that his father had been called from dinner to bail him out had merely been the tip of the iceberg. Looking back, it wasn't a surprise to Simon that he'd been arrested, only that he'd survived his own stupidity. By all rights, Gabriel Tam should have been called to collect his son from the morgue, not a holding cell.
Pritchard Smith had seemed too good to be true, which should have been Simon's first clue. In his naivet, however, he'd mistaken the merc's confidence for nobility, confused Smith's athletic body with being a hero, and misidentified charisma for character. The mercenary had been the only person that Simon had found who would listen to him about freeing River. At first, Simon had been so overwhelmed by that fact that he'd babbled on and on about his plight. He was just sure that the injustice of his sister's situation would move the big, strapping man to help him. When Simon had finally finished pouring out his sad tale, Smith had leaned back in his chair, smiled his lazy, mocking smile, and told Simon that he would be glad to help for a price. Simon had been undaunted. As an up and coming doctor, he had plenty of money. It was at that point that Pritchard had explained that the price would be paid in services. Personal services.
Simon stopped in the process of tying his shoes, remembering that moment. His first reaction to Smith's statement had been laughter. The idea of trading sex for his sister's rescue had sounded absurd, like something out of a romance novel. To his dismay, however, he'd found that, smile or no smile, Smith had been utterly serious... and very convincing. Before he'd really been able to grasp what had happened, Simon had found himself in a dingy rented room, body being jolted as Pritchard Smith rode him mercilessly. A mirror had been across from the bed and Simon remembered looking at his own reflection, silently reassuring the shell-shocked young man looking back at him that it would be worth it. Once River was free, it would be worth it.
Once again, he'd been wrong.
When Smith had taken his pleasure of Simon, the young doctor had slowly drawn himself together, wrapping the threadbare sheet around him like a shroud. "So, now that you've... I mean, now that we've..." Simon had blushed when the merc had laughed at his stammering. "Now that you've received your payment, what's your plan?"
Simon would never forget the way Pritchard had finished buckling his belt before turning to answer. "Well, I'm gonna go back to the bar and have another drink or two before I hit the hay. I ship out with my new employers early in the morning, don't want to be late and give a bad impression."
"But, I'm not going anywhere," Simon had said, not realizing that Smith had just told him he'd been screwed literally and figuratively.
The mercenary's chuckle had been just as lazy and just as mocking as his grin. "That's right, darlin', you're not." He had taken the time to look around and find his hat, placing it on his head in a jaunty angle with practiced ease. "You've a lovely ass, baby doc, but it's not worth getting' my ass blown off bein' associated with you. Not by a long shot. `Fraid you're just gonna have to find another hero to help you."
Simon's mouth had opened and shut several times. "But we... you said if we... you would...."
"I lied," Smith had shrugged. "It happens." He had leaned down and patted Simon on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, baby doc. If you want some friendly advice, forget about that sister of yours." The mercenary had sauntered towards the door, leaving Simon with another sage piece of advice before he left. "Oh, yeah, and don't believe strangers when they tell you they'll help you for a quick tickle and thrust, they're probably just tryin' to get in your pants."
One last mocking smile and the man had disappeared. Simon had been left, shattered, on the bed. A large piece of his innocence had left with Smith.
The here-and-now Simon Tam looked at himself in the mirror, an echo of that trauma still in his eyes. Ghosts, as River had said. Or, rather, a ghost. A big one, Pritchard Smith, had taken up residence within him again. Shaking himself, the doctor resolved to drive the man's memory out. The rustle of cloth accompanying the movement startled him. Looking at his reflection again, he smiled bitterly. Getting dressed while in a miasma of memories, he'd automatically put on his formal black suit, complete with tie, vest, and spectacles. Armoring himself, he supposed, against the past.
Moments later, Simon made his way down the corridor, a few layers lighter. He'd removed the coat, tie, and spectacles but opted to let the vest remain. He'd taken to dressing more casually of late, but the vest was a comfort. Luckily, it was also still a common enough sight that it ought not rouse his companions' curiosity. He really didn't want anyone looking at him too closely this morning, especially Mal, should he be back. The captain had a few ghosts in his own eyes and would all too easily recognize them in someone else. Perhaps he wouldn't say anything, but Simon wasn't ready to take that chance.
As Simon walked, he reflected on the way the `verse worked. Being taken advantage of by Pritchard Smith had left Simon feeling dirty and disheartened. He'd used all of his courage to make himself begin his round of inquiries again, afraid that he would repeat his mistake. When a mysterious group of men had approached him about liberating his sister from the Academy, he'd reacted with hard-won skepticism. They'd offered proof, however, and Simon had begun to believe. Besides, he'd already lost his family and his self-respect; he just didn't have that much more to lose. Taking a chance, he'd been at the coordinates they'd given him and, miracle of miracles, the blue box containing his sister had been delivered into his care. The rest was history. Six months later and Simon still didn't quite believe it. He didn't even know who the men were or why they wanted to help him. Now, he supposed, he'd never know.
A burst of laughter came from the direction of the kitchen, Mal's voice easily heard with the rest. Heart lighter at the captain's return, Simon hurried his last few steps, a greeting on his lips as he entered the dining area.
His greeting died unvoiced when he saw who else was there.
Larger than life, Pritchard Smith sat comfortably at Serenity's big family-style table, Kaylee perched on his knee. The engineer's face was split with a wide grin and she had one arm thrown around the mercenary's neck in easy camaraderie. With the notable exception of Jayne, the others were looking on with expressions ranging from amusement to fond exasperation. No one noticed Simon's entrance at first. Ever watchful, it was Mal who first spied him in the doorway.
"There you are, Doc," Mal said with relief. "Come talk to this moon-pie sister of yours. She keeps saying our guest is a ghost." A muffled noise came from under the table, revealing River's location.
Smith looked over at Simon and grinned his lazy grin. "Boo."
The room rang with Kaylee's giggles. "Don't worry none, Simon. Pritch is family."
"The type you don't talk about much," Zoe said with her usual dry delivery. Her warm smile, though, showed that she was on good terms with the newcomer.
Mal noticed Simon's shocked expression. "Don't get your britches in a twist, Doc," the captain explained. "Ol' Pritch here has served with us before. He can keep his mouth shut; there's no worry that he'll turn you or your sister in to the Alliance."
"I'm well aware of Mr. Smith's character," Simon said in a strangled voice.
The captain frowned. "You two know each other?" The look on his face clearly showed that he had no idea where his sheltered burden of a doctor would have met someone like Pritchard Smith.
"Oh, me and the baby doc go `way back," Smith said, gently easing Kaylee from his lap before standing and approaching Simon. "Fact is, you know that job I said my current employers were looking to hire for?" His gaze ran appreciatively up and down the young doctor's form. Suddenly, Simon was wishing he had his coat back. "The pretty here's got everything to do with it."
"What?"
"What?"
Mal and Simon's twin exclamations of confusion set Smith to grinning. "Yeah, I know. Surprised the hell out of me too."
"I assure you," Simon said tightly, "that I would have nothing to do with any employers of yours."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Smith contradicted him. "These fellas arranged a package delivery to you." He looked meaningfully at the table, where River was just beginning to emerge. "A very special package."
Simon gulped, Mal was beginning to look angry, and the others just looked confused.
Pritchard just grinned even more broadly. "And now they want you to return the favor."
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End of Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Haunted Part 2
Author: nancy
Email: thetenthmuse1@yahoo.com
Pairing(s): Simon/Other
Rating: R
Warnings: violence and bad language...but then, that's Zoe. evil grin Disclaimers: not mine, never will be, not making any money off it. but then, no one is anymore, are they? cause gorram Fox killed it. bastards. Notes: thanks to sffan for the speedy look-see. and I know the official date due is weds, but hey. it was done. grinSummary: Zoe's not happy about the affect Smith has on Simon.
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Zoe looked between Simon and Smith, not liking the ugly cast to Pritchard's face or the non-expression on Simon's. It was very much like when Simon had first come on board and hadn't trusted any of them. That he felt the need to withdraw so hard, so fast, told her that something really bad had gone down between them.
Glancing over at Wash, who was looking between Simon and Smith, she found a slightly puzzled expression on his face as well. Given how intuitive he was, Zoe was now positive that something had gone down. Something that would probably change her mostly good opinion of the merc.
Besides, the `baby doc' thing was seriously getting on her last nerve.
"Smith, are you sure?"
Zoe dragged her attention back to the conversation at Mal's somewhat incredulous question.
Smith shrugged and answered, "Yep."
Moving to stand beside him,, Kaylee asked, "What do they want Simon to do?"
Smith glanced down at her as he answered, "That's nothing you need to worry your pretty head about."
"Excuse me?" Kaylee demanded, grinning as she shoved an elbow into his ribs.
Grunting from the contact, Smith grinned back at her then said, "Well, it's for baby doc to say about whether he wants others to know."
"No one works alone here, Smith, you know that," Mal reminded easily. "Simon gets called for a job, we all do."
"Not this time," Smith replied regretfully. "This time, it's baby doc all on his own."
"What's the job?"
Zoe's gaze shifted to Simon at the quiet voice and didn't much like what she saw. Or, rather, what she didn't see. The careful non- expression had solidified into that disdainful Core look that Simon had worn a lot towards the beginning. It made her palms itch with an urge to muss his hair up and maybe tickle him for good measure; anything to get that boy smiling again.
"They want you to let yourself be captured while carrying some kind of virus. They know the base where you'll be taken and once there, you need to release the virus. Don't know what it's supposed to do, so don't ask me," Smith answered.
There was dead silence after the announcement and Zoe noted, with some measure of satisfaction, the almost instant refusal on Mal's face, even if he hadn't yet said the words.
Smith continued with, "And if you decide not to go ahead with it, then the implant they put in your sister when they had her will activate and she'll be captured by the Alliance in your place."
"Tell them you couldn't find him," Mal snapped.
Shaking his head, Smith said, "Can't do it, Mal. I'm being well paid."
Jayne's gun was out and at Pritchard's temple before the man was even finished speaking. "There's nothin' saying that you ever found us. No way they'd know you weren't kilt afore meetin' up with us."
"You don't want to do that, Cobb," Pritchard warned.
"Why not?"
"Because they'll just activate the transmitter in the girl if you do."
"What do I care? She ain't no use to us and `sides which, she's already tried to kill me once," Jayne informed the other merc.
"Twice," Simon corrected absently, a smile hovering on his face for the first time since entering the room.
Jayne nodded. "Right. So there you go."
Simon crossed the room and put his hand on Jayne's arm and looked up at the big man. "You're not going to kill him."
Jayne and Mal both glared at the doctor and demanded, simultaneously, "Why not?"
"So much for family," Smith muttered.
Zoe snorted, barely resisting the urge to smack them both upside the back of the head for their stupidity. "Because Simon will just go ahead with the job on his own anyhow."
Looking over at Zoe with gratitude, Simon then nodded and said, "That's right. You both know me well enough that I'd never let River be in danger."
"Not your place. Not your say-so. No business at all!"
Everyone looked over at River, who was hunched in on herself and staring accusingly at her brother. Zoe sighed as Simon left the men to go to his sister and pulled her into his arms, soothing her as only he could.
After a few moments, Simon looked back at Smith and stated, "We'll go over the details in a while. I need to straighten this out first."
Zoe could tell that the doctor's order, which is exactly what it was, surprised Smith, and not in a pleasant way from the tightening of the merc's jaw. It occurred to her that Simon must have grown up a lot since they'd last met and set her mind to wondering just how innocent the doctor had been when he'd started searching for River. They all knew he had more guts than sense and she was now suspecting that it had gotten him involved with the merc.
"Sure thing, baby doc. I'll see you `round," Smith answered easily, mocking as his eyes trailed after Simon leading his sister from the room.
Jayne put his gun away and shrugged towards Smith. "No hard feelings?"
With a brief grin, Pritchard replied easily, "Nah. I understand."
Wash joined Zoe and slipped an arm around her waist, leaning close as the others continued with the conversation that Simon had interrupted. "You going to keep an eye on Smith, or shall I?"
Zoe kissed his neck and murmured into his ear, "I will. I think Smith and I are going to have a nice, private chat about just what he did to Simon."
Wash arched an eyebrow at her and replied softly, "You're an evil woman and I love you for it."
Smiling at him with her eyes, Zoe murmured back, "Thank you, dear."
"So you know where the guest quarters are and can take your pick," Mal was saying.
Pritchard nodded and agreed, "Sounds good to me."
"I'll walk you there," Zoe offered, pushing off the wall and away from Wash.
With a curious look, Smith nodded and picked up his duffel, following her out of the room as the rest of the crew broke up and went back to their various duties.
They'd reached the next level before Zoe asked, "Where'd you meet Simon?"
"In a bar," Pritchard answered, smirking to himself.
"He was lookin' for his sister?"
"Yep."
"And I'm betting that you conned him into bed, knowin' how trusting Simon is," Zoe observed dryly, keeping her other, darker emotions under wrap.
Pritchard shrugged. "Might've done so. He was in my bed end of the night and that's a fact."
"I bet you saw his fancy Core clothes and figured him for an easy mark," Zoe continued easily. "Not only that, he's the kind you always went for, male or female, just a bit on the helpless side."
Now smirking openly, he laughed and conceded, "Okay, you got me, Zo. It was all that and more. The boy's virgin ass was mine before he even knew what hit him. Great ride, too."
Zoe nodded, having expected the crude answer, and allowed a cold smile of her own to surface. Her hand slipped down to the sheath that was snapped onto her belt and pulled it free. Pritchard almost got out of the way in time, but Zoe shoved him hard over the nearest rail and he fell the next floor down, landing heavy and hard on his back. She jumped nimbly over the same rail and landed on the catwalk beside him, knife to his throat.
Even hauling in the breath that had been forced from him, Pritchard was careful not to nick himself on the wickedly sharp blade. When he could talk, he gasped, "What the fuck, Zoe!?"
Zoe straddled his chest, sitting on him to make the breathing even harder. Cutting a thin red line into the man's neck, she spoke up with a hard edge, "One thing I never liked about you was the way you come this close to rape, Smith. This close and not quite over the line is the only thing that's saved your balls from my knife."
Licking his lips, eyes wide and fearful, Pritchard hissed, "What and who I do is none of your god damned business Zoe!"
"It is this time, because you fucked up by fucking with the wrong man," Zoe hissed back at him, cutting another sliver into the skin. "There's something you really should know, Smith."
Anger joined the fear and Smith ground out, "What's that?"
Leaning down, Zoe whispered into Pritchard's ear, "Simon's crew now. You're not. Anything happens to him, and we take it out on you. I take it out on you. And I'll be watching you...real close."
"What in hell is going on here!?"
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End of Chapter 2
Chapter 3: Understanding
Author: Peach
Email: peach1250@sbcglobal.net
Pairing(s): Simon/Other; stirrings of Simon/Jayne Rating: R
Disclaimer: "Firefly" and its characters belong to Fox and Mutant Enemy. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended.Summary: The crew closes ranks.
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tamade diyu = fucking hell
gingwa cao de liumang = frog humping son of a bitch shi da koudai = sack of shit
dongwu = animal
shenjing hundan = screwed-up bastard+++
The Captain's voice held more than surprise. Mal watched as Zoe rose slowly from her crouched position by Smith's side. He knew something was up. They had known Pritchard for some time, and while he had worked with them in the past something about the tension between him and the Doc hadn't set well. Mal couldn't quite put his finger on the problem, but he would. Now finding Zoe about to slit Smith's throat was all kinds of wrong.
"Just reaching an understandin', Captain."
Zoe looked at him with the look that he'd only seen in the past when she killed to protect him or another rebel. Add that to the tension in the kitchen, and River speak, which, tamade diyu, he was starting to understand, the switch in his head clicked.
Smith had hurt the Doc and Zoe had just drawn the line in the sand. Seemed like his killing quotient had gone up since the Doc and little River came onto his ship. Protecting them had become more than a habit; they had become part of the select group residing in his heart. If he found out that Pritchard had anything to do with that tracker in River, Smith would wish for death long before he achieved it.
Zoe read all that and more in Mal's eyes as Smith slowly hauled himself to his feet. They stood and watched as he went toward where his duffel had fallen. By the time he had it in hand, Mal's eyes no longer showed any sign of the thoughts running in combat boots through his mind.
It hadn't taken long for his mind to come up with how Smith had probably hurt the Doc.
"Zoe, why don't you go see how Simon is getting on with River. I'll see Pritchard settled."
He waited until Zoe was out of earshot shaking his head he feigned sympathy for Zoe's behavior. "Woman gets notional. You ok?"
"Not the first time a woman tried to slit my throat. I'm still here, ain't I?"
"Yep, go on and get settled. See you at dinner."
Mal waited until Smith entered the empty passenger compartment and then went in search of this first mate. He found her standing in the infirmary as Simon scanned River.
Simon pointed to a dark spot near the center of River's stomach. "It's right there. Far too deep for me to get it out without major surgery."
"Simon, he's bad. Can't go with him, Simon. He wants to do it harder this time, wants to hurt. Wants to feel your blood, hot on his..." her voice was rising with each word.
"Shush, River. I'll be fine, mei mei."
Simon rocked her and crooned to her. Mal's eyes met Zoe's and the promise was made between them. Pritchard Smith would die if he touched Simon.
Mal took two long strides to stand at the side of brother and sister. Touching River gently, he added his assurances to Simon's. "River, I ain't gonna let anyone hurt your brother. Do you believe me?"
"Mal, daddy."
"Not daddy, just a mean man who don't intend to lose his doctor. Now you calm yourself. We'll take care of this and keep you both safe."
She let go of Simon and threw her arms around Mal. He hugged her briefly and then handed her gently back to her brother. Signaling to Zoe to follow him, he left. Simon stared after them, with a bemused expression on his face. He barely heard River as she repeated, "Safe, love, family," turning the three words into a litany.
Zoe and Mal entered the bridge. Wash swung around to face them, a question in his eyes.
"What did you find out?" Wash's voice demanded agitated.
"First, where is Smith?"
"He was with Jayne in the cargo hold when I came up here."
Mal and Wash were both anxious to find out what she'd learned.
"He used Simon's need to find River to get him in bed. Bragged about what a great ride the virgin was."
The anger in her voice was mild compared to the swearing that Mal used to turn the air blue. "Gingwa cao de liumang shi da koudai dongwu!"
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Jayne looked pointedly at the stripes on Pritchard's throat when he joined him in the cargo bay. Pritchard shrugged. "Zoe took offence to me saying I fucked the baby doc. Since when did she start to care about anyone, other than Mal and Wash?"
Jayne stood looking at the man in front of him and wondered where the rage he was feeling came from. Hell, he didn't even like the doc or his moon-brain sister.
"Jayne, you okay?"
"Yeah, just wondering my ownself about Zoe. Maybe she's jealous."
Pritchard laughed then leered at Jayne. "You had him, yet?"
"The Doc? Nah, Mal'd skin me alive if I mussed up the Doc."
"Be worth it. He's one sweet ride. 'Course he was a virgin that night. Might be even better once he learns a thing or two."
Jayne's hands tightened into fists. With cunning that the others almost never saw, Jayne sought additional information. "Rather use that pretty mouth."
"I'll teach him that while we're taking care of business. Send him back to you well trained."
Kaylee's entrance to the cargo bay was the only thing that kept Pritchard from having his back broken against a bulkhead.
"Pritch, wanna see the modification I've been making to the engine?"
"Sure, sweet Kaylee. Lead the way."
Jayne stood perfectly still as they left, taking several deep breaths, before he went looking for the Cap'n and Zoe. He found them in deep conversation with Wash on the bridge.
"Mal, you won't believe what that ruttin' shenjing hundan Smith said he was gonna do ta Simon while he's out on this job with him. We can't let Simon go with him. We gotta do somethin'."
Three sets of eyes stared at him in disbelief. Defensive, he asked, "What?!"
"When did you start caring what happens to the Doc?" Mal looked at Jayne suspiciously. He still hadn't forgotten Ariel.
"Ain't no love lost 'tween me and the Doc, and that's a fact. But he ain't no whore and I wouldn't see him turned inta one lessen, he decided that was what he wanted."
"What are you talking about?"
"Smith was bragging ta me about popping the Doc's cherry. So I went along with it and said I'd rather have his pretty mouth. That's when the bastard said he'd send him back to me trained. The look in his eyes told me he'll hurt the Doc first chance he gets."
"River thinks the same thing. So we just have to make sure he doesn't get the chance."
"How do you plan to do that, Captain?"
The four of them jumped as Simon's cultured voice came from the hatchway.
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End of Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Protection
Author: sffan
Email: sffan2004@hotmail.com
Pairing(s): Simon/Other; hint of Simon/Jayne Rating: R
Disclaimer: "Firefly" and its characters belong to Fox and Mutant Enemy. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended. Notes: Thank you to: hcwoodward, taraljc, phil, betsy, anacondagirl, steelknight69, peach, and unovis for the advice on self-defence moves. And thanks to tenth_muse for the nifty beta.Summary: Simon is determined to protect his sister. Jayne's determined to make sure he protects himself.
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shi da koudai = sack of shit
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Simon feels the weight of four sets of eyes as they turn to look at him. He crosses his arms and returns their stares, feeling sick with shame. As he looks at them each in turn, he is surprised that he can find no mockery or pity; there is only concern, even from Jayne.
"You're just not going to go, plain as that," Mal replies.
"That's not an option, Captain," Simon says with determination. "I'm not going to let River get taken by the Alliance. A little personal discomfort is worth keeping her safe."
"Personal discomfort?" Mal exclaims. "I don't think you quite understand here, boy. From what Zoe and Jayne just told me, Smith wants to hurt you, wants to hurt you real bad. There's no way I'm going to leave you alone on a mission with him. He can't be trusted."
Simon looks at Mal and smiles coldly, saying scathingly, "I thought he was an old friend of yours. Surely you can trust an old friend."
"Stop it, Simon. None of us here knew what he done to you before he came on board. Now that we know, I'm getting that shi da koudai off my boat." Mal straightens up from the rail he's leaning on and starts to move across the bridge.
"You can't do that, Captain," Simon protests desperately, grabbing Mal by the arms. "And you know it. You know he'll follow through on his threats. I won't let River be taken. I won't."
"Simon there's got to be another way," Wash says, concern in his eyes.
"Really? Do you have any bright ideas?" Simon's voice is harsh and he glares at Wash over Mal's shoulder.
Wash shakes his head.
"He'll rape you if he can," Zoe says quietly.
Simon turns to look at her, face pale, "You think I don't know that? It's not like I have a choice here. I'll just have to deal with whatever he does."
Mal can feel Simon's hands trembling on his arms. "I don't think you can, Doc. And you shouldn't have to. We'll find another way."
"There is no other way, Captain," Simon replies, releasing Mal's arms abruptly. "It's my body, my sister, my business, my decision. Thank you for your concern. But I AM going to do this."
He turns on his heel and leaves the bridge.
As soon as he's out of their line of sight, Simon runs back to his bunk. He barely makes it to the commode before he throws up for the second time that day. He rests his head against the cool surface and tries not to think about what Smith's going to do to him. It's worth it, he keeps telling himself. He'd do anything to save his sister, anything. Even this. His head jerks up and his heart starts hammering in his chest when he hears a sound at the doorway.
"What do you want, Jayne?" Simon asks roughly. "Come to laugh? Go ahead. Make all the crude remarks that I know are just burning a hole in that tiny little brain of yours."
Jayne grabs a towel and crouches down next to Simon. "I ain't here to laugh at ya, Simon. What Smith done was despicable. Even I wouldn'ta done nothin' like that and I've done some low-down dirty things in my time."
He holds the towel out to Simon.
Looking up at Jayne in confusion, Simon tentatively takes the towel and wipes his face with it. "Then why are you here? Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Well, it's obvious that yer not gonna be talked outta this, and I don't want to see you hurt." Jayne sees the disbelief in Simon's eyes and it cuts him deeply.
"Look. I know I done a dumb thing, turnin' you and River into the Feds, and I know we ain't exactly friends, but I wouldn't wish Smith on an enemy. No one deserves what that bastard wants to do to you."
A wave of rage flashes through Jayne just at the thought of Smith touching Simon. Jayne doesn't know why it bothers him so much, but it does and he doesn't intend to let anything happen to Simon if he can help it.
"I figured I could show you how to defend yerself," Jayne continues. "That way you can make sure Smith keeps to himself."
Simon sits up a bit straighter. "And how do you propose to do that? I can't suddenly start carrying a gun, he'll notice."
"No. No gun," Jayne replies, "But you could carry this."
Jayne whips Binky out of its holder and waves the knife under Simon's nose. "You could conceal him under all them fancy clothes you wear. Smith'll never suspect until it's too late. He gets too close to you and, well, let's just say that six inches of cold steel against his balls would soften any man."
Simon gives Jayne a small smile. He's confused as hell, but touched by Jayne's offer. He knows how special Jayne's weapons are to him and can't for the life of him figure out why Jayne's willing to part with one of them. He hates to burst the man's bubble, but.... "There's a small problem in your logic, Jayne. Smith's a lot bigger than me, he'll just over power me and take Binky away from me. And what'll stop him from pulling a gun on me?"
Jayne's shocked that Simon actually knows the name of his knife, he didn't think Simon paid any attention to him at all. He feels a stupid grin pulling at the corners of his mouth and he clears his throat before saying, "I can show you a few moves. We don't have time for nuthin' too fancy, but I figure I can show you a trick or two that'll keep him on his toes. Best thing, a course, is to not be alone with him. But that's bound to happen at some point."
Jayne gets up, resheathes the knife, and offers Simon his hand. Simon grips it and lets Jayne pull him up. "C'mon. There shouldn't be anyone in the cargo bay right now. We can get started right away."
Jayne is a surprisingly patient teacher, adjusting Simon's stance and movements with gentle hands as he shows him a few basic moves. Simon's training as a doctor makes him a quick study; he already knows a man's vulnerable spots, even the ones that aren't immediately obvious. Time passes in a blur and before they know it, several hours have passed.
Jayne leans against his workout bench drinking water from the squeeze bottle he keeps there. Simon is hot, sweaty, and exhausted, but he's learned a thing or two that may just keep him out of Smith's clutches. Just as he picks up a towel and starts wiping his face with it, Jayne grabs him from behind, wrapping an arm around his throat and waist and pulling him sharply back against him, holding him firmly.
Simon tries not to allow himself to be distracted by the feel of Jayne's strong body pressed against his, something that had been getting more and more difficult over the course of the session. The irony of it is not lost on Simon and he finds himself almost smiling at the thought that he's becoming aroused by the man teaching him ways to ward off unwanted attentions.
Thinking of Smith helps Simon focus. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the sudden flare of desire, Simon puts what he's learned into practice. He slams back an elbow, connecting solidly with Jayne's body, making the arms around him loosen. At the same time he shifts quickly to one side, grabbing Jayne's shirt with his free hand. Using Jayne's own weight against him, Simon twists and shifts, pulling the larger man off balance enough that with another fast shift, Simon throws Jayne off him. Jayne hits the deckplates with a solid thump that knocks the air out of him.
"Shit! Jayne are you okay?" Simon kneels down beside him.
Propping himself up on his elbows, Jayne grins at Simon, and says, "Yeah, Doc. I'm good."
He rubs his stomach where Simon's elbow landed. "Looks like you've finally learned to stop pullin' yer punches too. What were ya thinkin' about when ya hit me?"
"Smith," Simon states in a tight voice full of anger and disgust.
Jayne nods and pats Simon's thigh. "Good." He gets quickly to his feet. "I think we're done here, at least for today. I want you to meet me here every day around this time until you gotta leave, dong ma? Can never get enough practice at this kinda stuff."
Simon stands up, puts a hand on Jayne's arm, and looks up at him. "I still don't understand why you're doing this, but thank you."
As little waves of heat spread from Simon's hand on his arm and flood through his body, Jayne thinks he finally gets why the idea of Smith touching Simon bothers him so much. Jayne looks away from Simon's searching eyes before the smaller man sees the desire in his own, and says gruffly, "Told ya. Don't want ya to get hurt."
Mal stands in the shadows, hands unconsciously tightening on his gunbelt as he watches them.
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End of Chapter 4
Chapter 5: The Direct Approach
Author: Eleanor K.
Email: emungere@yahoo.com
Pairing: Simon/Other; slight Simon/Jayne; hint of Simon/Mal Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All hail Joss.
Notes: Many thanks to Cab for the speed-beta.Summary: River and Mal do some thinking.
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Shuttle two is dark. The air is chilled by the vacuum just outside. Only tenuously connected to the light and warmth of Serenity's body, the shuttle is a forgotten appendage until needed.
It is needed now. River needs to hide.
She holds her head in both hands, pressing hard against the soft patches on her temples. She knows if she digs her fingers in just here, eventually she will touch her brain. Push deep enough, and it would all go away. No more voices that no one else can hear, no more chaos riding her mind, no more worry for Simon or for anyone else.
Slowly, she forces her hands to soften, to pet the skin rather than claw at it. If she could reach into her brain and fix what was done to her, she would, but she doesn't know how. Not now. Maybe someday. Hope is important.
She looks out through the forward windows, and one hand drifts down to her stomach. She can almost feel the implant, her blood flowing around it, her intestines shifted minutely to make room for it.
"Not without major surgery," Simon said. But he was thinking maybe. Maybe. It was in the back of his mind, even though he knew it could be--probably is--rigged. A poison, nanotech cutters, microbial explosives. It feels bad to River, but non-specific bad, so it might just be fear. So hard to tell.
Simon is afraid, too, afraid of this new ghost who has come to haunt Serenity, or he wouldn't even be thinking of taking it out.
She looks at her reflection in the glass.
"Tell him," she says to the other girl, pale and translucent. "Tell him to take it out."
"He won't do it," the other girl says.
"Make him."
"I can't. Not Simon. He loves too hard, and he won't see reason."
River stares hard, through this girl, herself, out into the black.
She can't lose Simon. This is the one thing she knows, and some days it is the only thing she knows. She can't lose Simon.
River stands and pushes her hair back from her face, opens the shuttle door and steps back into the blood-warmth of Serenity's body.
Mal watches Simon and Jayne leave the cargo bay. Or, to get technical about it, which Mal is inclined to do, he watches Simon leave the cargo bay with Jayne. With Jayne's hand on his shoulder, as a matter of fact.
Mal glances around the now-empty room and wonders, suddenly, how long he's been standing here. It seemed like hardly any time at all while he was watching Simon's self-defense lesson, but now he's getting the feeling that some serious time has passed. He looks at his watch. Near to an hour he's been standing here. Just watching.
He shakes his head, wants to head off in some purposeful direction, do something constructive, but can't think where to start. He's a little stuck on the part where he stood here for a gorram hour watching Simon get all sweaty.
It's not something he's used to seeing, but he's thinking maybe he could get used to it.
He hears a soft thump behind him and wheels around, hand on the butt of his gun. It's River, her hands raised, a serious look on her face.
He starts to ask where she came from, but she points up to the catwalk before he can get the question out.
"The stairs are there for a reason, you know," he tells her. He wonders how she made that jump so quietly. The girl's just uncanny sometimes.
"Sometimes the direct approach is better," she says.
Oh. This is going to be one of those conversations.
"And what direct approach are we talking about here, exactly? 'Cause I'm thinking we're not really talking about the stairs any more." He holds up a hand as she starts to speak. "And I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but I'd take it as a kindness if you could say it plain, whatever it is."
River smiles thinly at him. "Captain Dummy talk?"
"That's the idea."
"You have to go with Simon."
"Well, that's plain enough."
"You've been thinking about it. You don't want him out of your sight."
Mal stares at her in silence for a beat before he can respond. "I don't think this is the kind of thing a man should have to be explicit about, but I'd rather you didn't go prying around in my head."
"Can't not. The choices keep narrowing down, until there's only one way left to go. Take Jayne. You'll need him."
She turns away.
"River--"
"No. Done talking. Time to do."
She runs from the room, and the tread of her heavy boots is louder than it should be with such a tiny girl inside them. Her hair streams out behind her, like she carries her own personal gravity with her.
Mal sits heavily on a crate, feeling like his own personal gravity just got ratcheted up a few notches.
He can't let Simon go alone.
But he doesn't see how he can go with him.
The base Simon will get taken to is, most likely, the same place Simon and River were bound for when they got captured on Ariel. And the one good piece of information Mal has on the people who came to get Simon and River is that they were not only willing to kill nearly everyone in that security substation, maybe everyone who came in contact with the Tams at all, but that they also had the power to cover it all up.
When the story hit the Cortex, it was reported as an outbreak of some Earth-that-was plague, quickly contained, no danger to the public. There was no film of the bodies, which had been destroyed long before the press arrived.
If Mal goes with Simon, he might very well find himself with a bad case of that plague, and Simon would go on to the base without him.
River was right, though. He has been thinking about it. And he doesn't want to let Simon out of his sight.
One more thing has occurred to him: They didn't kill Jayne. They had the Tams, so why keep Jayne alive? He's a bit curious about that, but the why doesn't matter that much, really. The point is that they did.
So there's a chance that they might do the same with Mal. There's a chance he'd still be around when they got to that base and that he'd be able to...do what?
Keep Simon safe. Whatever that turned out to mean.
He rubs a hand over his face. There's too much he doesn't know, too much left to chance.
Still, it's not hard to see which way his mind is leaning, even if there's something telling him it's not the wisest choice.
But take Jayne with him? No. There are a million reasons why Jayne should stay behind. A million good, logical reasons. None of which have anything to do with Jayne's hand on Simon's shoulder and Simon's grateful smile.
River stands still amid the steel reflections of the infirmary, feeling Mal's decision begin to crystallize out of the air like snowflakes falling to earth.
She smiles and turns back to what she was doing. It's good that Simon won't be alone, but it's not enough. She looks at the bottles arrayed in front of her. The mixture has to be right, the proportions exact, and it's hard to concentrate.
There is always, even with the drugs Simon gives her working their hardest, a pressure at the edges of her mind. It is afternoon now, and the drugs are fading, leaving her open.
She feels Simon coming long before she hears his voice, worried and cautious.
"River? What are you doing with...all that?"
"Helping."
"You're-- I really don't think you should be doing that."
He tries to move her away, but she stands firm.
"I'm not making mud pies, Simon. I know what I'm doing."
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End of Chapter 5
Chapter 6: The Devil Speaks
Author: Karah Ross
Email: chakotaykim@yahoo.com
Pairing: Simon/Other; hints of Simon/Jayne and Simon/Mal Rating: R
Warnings: I decided to delve into the dark for this part, and I don't mean space. There's sexual content but nothing that explicit. For me this is an incredibly gloomy piece, so be warned. Disclaimer: Not mine. Not ours. No money. No sue.Summary: Pritch fantasizes about Simon
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"Fine. Just don't... break anything, okay?"
River suppressed a sigh. She nodded once tersely. Eventually she felt Simon's gaze and concern start to drift away and once both had retreated across the room, the various liquids before her could finally demand her full attention again.
Pritchard Smith settled back against the edge of the bunk he'd been given. The best thing about this ship had always been Mal's insistence that the crew stay small. A small crew meant no one shared quarters... unless they wanted to.
And oh, did he want to. The baby doc was looking even better than he'd remember in his fantasies and dreams.
Pritch had to snort at his own thought. He'd pretty much imagined the doc in every possible position so needless to say he was shocked when the doc was looking so fine.
Of course, he could think of only one thing that would be a better look on the pretty's face. Pain. He still remembered the slightly pained look that had passed Simon's face when he had told him he'd been lying.
How he wanted to spread that look. Not just a flicker but a full-fledged agony that stayed bright and razor sharp on his face. The brightness in his eyes would be dulled and dimmed as the pain elevated. He imagined tears streaking down those soft cheeks, dripping from his chin to land on his chest that would be heaving with sobs of pain. Moans and groans as the ache slowly built until the doc's own body betrayed him.
Oh, yes, pain would turn that pretty's face into the absolute picture of beauty. Pritch couldn't wait.
His mind ran though all the different ways he could make that beauty bloom. He could give it out in one sharp burst of pain with straight roughness and anger, or he could give it in tiniest bits. Pritch smiled, wondering if the baby doc would like to be spanked.
Visions of red hand prints on that alabaster skin bloomed on his mind. He'd never spanked any of his boys with his bare hand but for the baby doc, he'd have to change his ways. At least until he decided to take out the belt and then eventually, the whips and chains. Yes, the doc would be sweetest chained to his bed ready and willing to make all of his fantasies come true.
Pritch's hand slid down his chest to slide his hand inside his pants. Jerking off slowly he imagined all the things sweet Simon could do for him.
Yes, he couldn't wait to break that arrogant little boy's spirit until nothing remained but a big black ache and all his expressive eyes would ever show again was soul deep agony. It wouldn't even be hard. If there was on thing Pritch knew it was how to exploit weakness and baby doc was nothing but one big walking weakness.
Pritch closed his eyes and let his mind drift over it. A boy like that would break under physical pressure, but to get what he really wanted he would have to twist the boy's brain a little. Make him feel not so smart, vulnerable and exposed. Then, as his pleasure came to a peak, it hit him right between the eyes.
A smirk crossed his face. Zoe never said anything about hurting his freaky little sister, now did she?
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End of Chapter 6
Chapter 7: Circular
Author: Maggie
Email: TragicAntigone@aol.com
Pairing(s): Simon/Other; hints of Simon/Jayne; Simon/Mal Rating: PG? Yeah. I really kept it clean. Surprise, surprise. Disclaimer: "Firefly" and its characters belong to Fox and Mutant Enemy. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended. Notes: I figured it was time to do some 'shippiness... only trouble was I couldn't decide on who. Thank God all of the boys on board have light eyes or I'd be screwed for descriptive words that didn't give away who was who. smiles prettily at the next author Tag, you're it :) Also, much thanks to Peach for the wonder-beta. Seriously, caught some stuff I wouldn't have. And I can't spell to save my sole sometimes. Get it... sole/soul... shakes head Well, it's funny if you're me.Summary: Pritch gets a visit. Mal gets a visit. Simon gets a visit.
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Smith was settled back lazily on his bunk, legs stretched in front him of him, propped half-sitting on the few pillows he had scrounged up from the various compartments in the cabin. His thoughts drifted and rolled over the baby doc. Thing's he'd do, thing's he'd done. The corners of his lips twitched, drawing occasionally into a wicked smirk as he imaged the noises his pet would make. Damn fine, noises.
The soft grind of the rolling door to his temporary bunk sliding across the track drew him from his thoughts. Though he stirred, he showed no sign. The hand at his side itched to draw the revolver still slung there, but he waited, body still and tense, to see what this new arrival would do.
"Don't fool me, none, Pritchard Smith," Came the soft, almost scolding voice of Serenity's mechanic.
Pritchard Smith finally opened his eyes and pushed up to lean back on his elbows, quirking an almost-warm grin in her direction. The grin that had often charmed the girl into fits of giggles faded when he noticed her somberly staring at the bag of weapons he had stashed in the upper compartment above his bed. Now his eyes swept over her with a new expression; Calculation, wariness, and something Smith had become intimately accustomed to since returning to Serenity, a tinge of fear, "So, little Kaylee... what brings you here?"
Kaylee eyed the bag they both knew contained his arsenal for a lingering moment, before flicking her gaze to him. She ran a tongue carefully over pink lips and waited a beat longer than Smith would'a liked before she began speaking again, "I-I ain't so good at speakin' plain like an' you know it, Pritch," She darted another look up to the bag above his bed, and he reckoned something she saw there, or thought she saw there, steeled her next words. Because when she looked at him again her eyes were hard as nails and she had a voice to match, "So I'm jus' gonna out and say what needs t'be said."
Her steps, so often tentative, were utterly steadfast, and for the second time since returning to the ship, Pritchard Smith found himself on the wicked end of the blade, courtesy of one of the fine women of Serenity's crew. Didn't matter none he knew little Kaylee'd never harm a hair on his head, despite her next words. The simple fact she was willin' to threaten unnerved him somethin' awful.
"You know damn well where it was I grew up an' who my daddy was. So you know jus' as well I know how t'use this here knife," She paused, seeming to consider the shining edge and then him before continuing, "So, I'll tell you right now ... You touch Simon like I heard you done before, r'you hurt anyone a' my family," Though her eyes were shining, her chin jutted out stubbornly and her grip on the kitchen knife didn't waver, "I swear by all 'at's Holy in this 'verse I'll only be the first one ya' gotta deal with." She leveled the stare on him a moment longer before turning and rapidly exiting the quarters.
Pritchard stared after her in openmouthed shock, whispering, "Well, I'll be goddamned..." Kaylee'd gone and grown up after all. And it looked like she had more'n just a bit a' Jayne in her.
Mal sat at the tiny desk in his quarters, staring glumly down at the charts for where they were heading. He hated this. He hated this more than he'd hated anything in his whole damn life, and for a man his age? He had a lot of hate, so this wasn't a declaration to be taken lightly.
Dropping the flimsy printouts to rest on the already cluttered desktop, he raised his hands to rub at his eyes. This was gettin' him no where. They didn't have a solid plan; no one even knew his decision for himself and Jayne to accompany the doc on his "trip". Well, no one except that moon-brained sister of his. With all her cryptic talk and nonsense. Even with all the time he'd spent in her presence he didn't ever think he'd be used to all that mindreadin' the girl did.
He heard a couple short raps from the top of the bulkhead above his ladder.
Good, that was good. He needed to get this over with anyway. Shouldn't be no protestin', but one never could tell as far as he was involved, "C'mon down, Jayne," He called out wearily, turning in his seat to wait for the mercenary to descend.
He watched as large combat boots clomped down the rungs of the ladder until Jayne was in his cabin and no more than five feet from him. He tilted his head back and stared up at the big man and was hit with a sudden and unexpected wave of relief. This man had saved his ass more times than he'd like to admit. It'd be as near to comfortin' as it could get to have Jayne watchin' his back, and Simon's as well, while they were doin' this job.
Watching him fidget though, Mal frowned slightly. Somethin' was up here and he, as usual, had a feelin' he wasn't gonna be happy about it, "Well? Speak your mind," He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the nervous merc to tell him what was goin' on.
Jayne shifted from foot to foot and pushed his hands into his back pockets, looking all around the cabin, except for the area occupied by the captain, "Uh, Mal... See... I got t'thinkin'... Thinkin' about this, uh... Well, thinkin' about the job the doc's goin' on with Pritch an' all," He paused, raising a hand to scratch thoughtfully at the back of his head, "Well, see... here's the thing..."
He raised his eyes finally to meet Mal's neutral stare, "I'm goin' with 'em," He nodded with certainty, mouth setting in a determined line, "Ain't nothin' you can say that'll change that an' I'll quit the crew if I have to," His voice took a beseeching turn, "But if you were half as smart as you strut around so sure that ya're, you'd be goin' with 'em, too! An' if that's grounds fer spacin', well... Dammit, so's lettin' Simon go'n do this on 'is own. Pritch'll screw him six ways from Sunday before the shuttle finishes undockin' from Serenity, I fig're, an'..."
"Jayne," The captain's commanding bark resonated through the cabin and cut off the mercenary's nervous babble. He took a moment to let Jayne sweat, simply because that had always been fun, and then gave a casual shrug and turned back around in his seat, "Fine. We'll go with 'em. If that's all, I've got t'go over the charts."
Gaping at the back of Mal's head, Jayne's eyes narrowed and he took another step forward, looming over the seated man and peering over his shoulder, "You... You went and planned this since th'beginnin'!"
Perturbed, Mal turned in his seat again and pushed the hulking body back a few steps, standing himself, "I did not. I only just decided we'd be comin' with 'em, and that's the God's honest truth."
Jayne snorted. "God's honest truth? That means about as much comin' from you as swearin' t'the devil would t'Bo-" Jayne paused. Judging by the look on Mal's face, he'd do best to not finish what he was saying. Instead he cleared his throat, "Right. So... uh... whose gonna tell Simon?"
Simon turned and tossed in bed, rolling onto his side so he could face the wall. He puffed out a frustrated sigh of breath. He had been unable to stop "fluttering" around River as she carefully created one of her wonderful terrible concoctions. And then Kaylee had come into his infirmary and shooed him out. Shooed him out of his own infirmary. It was almost humiliating. He would've put up such a stink... if she hadn't been right about his being exhausted.
Though he didn't see how it could do much good, lying there, not sleeping, fidgeting in bed. He sighed again. If anything, it exhausted him more. Circular thoughts ran through his head every moment: He couldn't leave River, he had to find a way to take the implant out. The implant couldn't be removed, he would have to go or River would die. River would die without him; there was no way he could leave her here alone.
A small smile found its way to his lips at the last thought. She wouldn't be alone. She'd have Kaylee to fuss over her, and Mal and Jayne would look after her, and Book would be there when her thoughts got too big for her head, and Zoe would frown warningly at Mal when he was too hard on the her and Kaylee for playing, and Wash would make her laugh. River fit here.
And, oddly enough, following Pritchard Smith's arrival, he had begun to feel like he fit here as well. Like there was a place for him on Serenity that offered long-term asylum and that Serenity's crew would do anything to protect not only his baby sister, but him as well. Too bad, he thought wryly, that now he'd have to go to an Alliance encampment and more than likely die a horrible, agonizing death.
He was thankful for the almost imperceptible breeze of cooler air that swept into his quarters as the door slid open and then shut again. River must be done with her latest project in preparation for his departure, and that meant two things: One, he could return to his beloved infirmary. Two, he would almost assuredly receive a tight hug before he left. Both of these things lifted his spirits.
So distracted by his thoughts, Simon failed to realize that his visitor had yet to speak until a heavy weight settled on the mattress behind him. Startled and terrified, Simon scrambled to turn and push away the hulking body, a strangled cry tripping its way up his throat and out of his mouth.
"Hey, hey! Hey now!" Muscular arms came up and gripped his, stopping his struggles almost entirely, "Hey, calm down! Simon, it ain't who your thinkin' it is. Open your damn eyes, boy!"
Blinking in surprise at the familiar voice, Simon stared up into pale eyes and hated himself for the relieved whimper he made. All that time spent training in the cargo bay and when it came to actually protecting himself he had opted to curl up in a ball and fend his 'attacker' off with meek pushes that wouldn't dislodge a half-starved kitten.
The face in front of him hardened to painful sympathy and suppressed anger while the larger man pulled him near, tucking Simon's dark head under his chin.
"S'alright, Simon. He ain't gonna get anywhere near you. You have my word," The arm circling his waist ran a reassuring hand up and down his back.
When Simon finally did speak again, his voice was little more than a cracked whisper, "Wh-what are you doing here?"
The chin resting against the top of his head rubbed back and forth while his companion mulled over his answer for a minute, "Stopped by the infirmary to give you a heads up an' found Kaylee an' River there instead. They mentioned you were tryin' t'sleep. River mentioned you ain't been sleepin' so good of late," He paused, wondering if he should bother going on or if it might give too much away of what he'd been thinkin' lately. He reckoned Simon would spend too much time wonderin' and worryin' if he wasn't straight with him right now, "Didn't plan on a cuddle, but saw you lyin' there lookin' all... small, I guess. Didn't think it would hurt any." He was quiet for a moment, letting that sink in, before he continued, "'Sides, got some news for ya'."
Simon, mind still running a minute slower than the rest of the 'verse since his latest scare, pulled back slightly and peered up at the man who was still holding him, "Yes?"
"Well... See... Here's the thing... We decided we're goin' with you an' Pritch...."
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End of Chapter 7
Chapter 8: The Future; The Past
Author: Rach
Email: Slayerknight2@aol.com
Pairing(s): Simon/Other; hints of Simon/Jayne andSimon/Mal Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: "Firefly" and its characters belong to Fox and Mutant Enemy. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended. Notes: Big HUG to Maggie for leaving the space open on who's who in Simon's bunk. I hope I'm doing this right and not stepping on anyone's toes over anything. If I do, please tell and I will change. Oh, and this is not beta'd, so now we get to see my magnificent English skills.Summary: Mal reminiscent while he speaks with Simon.
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Simon smiled at the words, spoken with such hesitation yet determination. Mal's grip on him loosened a little but he still continued to run his fingers through his hair. The slight sensation soothed his nerves and Mal's presence calmed his spirit.
"And just how exactly do you plan to explain this to Prichard?"
Mal shrugged. "It's a package deal or he gets nothing for Christmas."
"-Mal-"
"He'll take the deal, Simon. He thinks he's smarter than all of us. He'll probably enjoy the challenge of getting you away from us."
"And if he refuses?"
"Well, then we'll just make everyone happy and shoot him."
Simon smiled and shook his head. "We're dealing with my sister's life here."
"And yours." Mal corrected him.
He'd never thought of it that way. His own life had never been a factor as far as he was concerned. It has always been about River. Saving her and hiding her and making sure she was safe. His own life was always a far distant second.
Simon tucked his head under Mal's chin again, having felt secure there before. It was an ancient, animalistic need for human touch. He sure as hell hadn't learned that as he was becoming a surgeon but rather through a psychology class he'd taken as an extra credit. Smooth skin against smooth skin; hard muscle grinding against harder muscle. Groans of pleasure coming from both of the participants. Being so close to Mal was making his exhausted mind wander in more pleasurable directions.
After Smith, the thought of touching another man had become a terrifying one. But since getting close with Mal and Jayne through other things, talking and practicing, he felt safe around him and the stirrings were becoming stronger around them.
"Kiss me." Simon whispered, only half-sure he wanted this.
"What?" Mal pulled back slightly.
Simon leaned in close and kissed the Captain lightly on the lips but remaining close. That brief touch was enough to eliminate his doubts and quiet his fears for a bit. "Kiss me."
"No." Mal said, sternly, feeling his own arousal peek. He gazed hard into the ice-blue eyes. "Not now."
Simon kissed him harder, murmuring. "Kiss me. Kiss me..."
Mal kissed him back, surrendering. His arms tightened protectively around the body beside him. He would follow Simon's lead, however far the boy wanted this to go. His erection ground against Simon's, shooting a spark of pleasure up both their spines.
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End of Chapter 8
Chapter 9: The Discussion
Author: Ty Wiles
Email: tywiles@yahoo.com
Pairing(s): Simon/Other; Simon/Mal; hints of Simon/Jayne Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: "Firefly" and its characters belong to Fox and Mutant Enemy. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended. Note: I may have just made this Round Robin AU. I couldn't remember (or find) exactly what Simon and River are wanted for so I went with what I could remember. If it's not right we'll just have to go with it.Summary: The crew starts to question Simon's mission.
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It had been a long time since Mal had let himself enjoy simply touching and tasting another. It had been a long time since Mal had simply enjoyed the feel of another's lips and hands without impatience. It was an interesting change from what he was used to.
Instead of a quick burn and satisfaction, it was a slow smoldering. A single flick of fire with each touch was far more tantalizing than he had ever remembered it being. Mal smiled slightly against Simon's lips. He would have to relearn his old necking skills. With Simon, it would be a pleasure.
Even with slow and easy in the forefront of his mind, it didn't take long for touches to become rougher, lips more demanding. Without thinking, Mal rolled Simon onto his back. Only his leg rested on top of the younger man, but that didn't stop Simon from tensing ever so slightly. Even as he began to relax, Mal moved away.
"It's been a long day. Get some rest."
He left quickly, before Simon could protest. Mal took a long moment in the corridor to steady himself. Feeling someone else's, Simon's, terror that closely was unnerving, to say the least. The fact that men like Pritchard got off on that made his stomach roll.
That animal did not deserve to live. That in mind, Mal joined Book, Jayne, Zoe and Wash in the kitchen for a little strategy meeting.
"What took so long? Jayne was about to go in after you." Zoe had a knowing glint in her eyes. What she meant was she was about the send Jayne in after him.
"Doc needed some convincing."
Apparently Zoe wasn't the only one based on the look Book gave him, but he let it go. He jumped back to what he'd been saying when Mal walked in. "We can assume that whatever Simon is supposed to carry won't kill anyone."
"What makes you say that?" Jayne's question drew looks from both Zoe and Mal. For someone who was pretty slow on the uptake, Jayne was right on their wavelength. Maybe they'd been underestimating the big ape.
"These people helped Simon rescue River. So they must have something against the Alliance, but no one was killed. From what Simon and River have said, she was in a heavily guarded facility. They could have easily pinned murder on Simon or River. Why start killing people now?"
Mal nodded. Book had a point. Still there was no way to know for sure. "If only we knew more about this base where we'll be going."
Wash grinned. "I've been looking into the Cortex about where Pritch says they'll be going. The only thing I can find is not really a base. There's only a processing center for the Fonda Ridge Prison."
Fonda Ridge was for the worst of the worst when it came to Alliance criminals. No one wanted to get sent there. Even if a person didn't go in for life, anyone rarely made it out. It was also rumored that some of the surviving Independent leaders were doing time there.
Jayne's question filled an awkward silence. "So are they trying to knock out the center or break somebody outta jail?"
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End of Chapter 9
Chapter 10: Turnabout
Author: kirby crow
Email: kirbycrow@hotmail.com
Pairing(s): Simon/Other; Simon/Mal; Simon/Jayne Rating:R
Disclaimer: "Firefly" and its characters belong to Fox and Mutant Enemy. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended. Notes: Sorry to just barely squeeze in under the deadline here, but I'm anal that way. Thanks to everyone for leaving such lovely strings to pick up and play with. Hope I didn't step on any toes. :)Summary: Good...Bad...We got the syringes.
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Ni tamade. Tianxia suoyoude ren dou gaisi =Fuck you. Damn everyone in the 'verse. wang bao dahn =dirty bastard sons-of
fong le = crazy
wo de tian ah = my god in heaven+++
As it turned out, they had to wait six hours for their answer, when Simon woke up and stumbled into the galley, knuckling sleep out of his eyes. He nodded a greeting to Wash. "Hey," he sniffed.
Wash lifted his chin in greeting, smiling and talking with Zoe. Mal turned and gave him a gentle, searching look that he quickly cut short. He went back to discussing something in low tones with Jayne. Kaylee, Book, and Inara, Simon guessed, were sleeping. Spacing crews worked all kinds of odd shifts. Only River seemed happy to see him.
She bounced over and kissed his cheek, one hand hidden behind her back like a secret.
Jayne's voice rose. "Listen, you don't worry about me. All I need to know is who the target is at that center." Jayne turned to Simon. "What do you think, doc? Who are they after?"
Simon shrugged as he dropped a tea bag into a cup of boiling water. "First guess? Someone important at Fonda. A political prisoner or a high-profile Alliance dissident."
"What about the warden at the prison?" Zoe put in. "That would be a high-profile hit."
Mal rubbed his face tiredly. Simon doubted he had gotten any sleep at all. "So who is it we got to watch out for, the sheep or the wolves?"
"Neither."
Smith's voice was unexpected and unwelcome. Simon turned as Smith sauntered into the room with that same confident, low-slung slouch to his hips that had first attracted him. Seeing it now, knowing what he knew, made him feel sick.
"You really want to know what's at Fonda Ridge? I'll tell ya. It's--"
And then River slammed the business end of a filled syringe into Smith's neck. He yelped and crow-hopped a full two meters away from her, pulling at the long needle embedded close to his carotid artery.
"Ghost dance," she jeered.
The syringe came free with a thin, aborted spurt of blood and Smith stared in absolute rage at the willow-slender girl who smiled at him with infinite sweetness. The emptied syringe clattered to the deck, its contents now flowing through Smith's bloodstream.
Behind River, Wash goggled and sat very still in his should I run for help? mode. Mal folded his arms and leaned his hip against the counter, watching. Jayne just looked satisfied that River was picking on someone else for a change.
"Ni tamade! Tianxia suoyoude ren dou gaisi!" Smith shouted, his hand pressed to his bleeding neck.
Simon gaped at his sister. "River, what was in that?"
"Neurotol," she said matter-of-factly.
He remembered her intuitive tinkering session with the chemicals, but years of medical school shrieked truths at him he couldn't deny.
"You can't make homemade neurotol!"
"Just did." She shrugged her thin shoulders. "Five minutes, he'll tell you everything he knows, if he doesn't have an aneurism first."
Smith was wobbling on his feet. His voice shook with fresh alarm. "Aneu... what's that?"
Mal placed his thumb and forefinger next to his temple and mimed forcing something apart. "That's where a blood vessel in your brain just goes pop."
He enjoyed that too much, Simon thought.
Smith turned on River and spat thickly at her. "Brain-sick bitch!"
Simon slammed his fist into Smith's jaw. Smith tottered and fell and Simon looked sheepishly to Mal, shaking his fingers. "Sorry."
"For what?"
"Well... you called him family."
"Just pretend I said distant cousins."
"In that case." Simon drew back his foot and delivered a kick to Smith's ribs that made him double into a ball and utter a sickening, gagging croak. He kicked the knife that Smith had been reaching for away with his shoe, safely out of reach.
"I think you enjoyed that," Mal said mildly. "Did anyone else see Simon enjoying that?"
"Sure looked that way to me," Jayne sounded almost admiring. Smith's knife vanished into one of his endless pockets.
"I've been mulling it over for a while. I just haven't had the opportunity." Simon knelt beside the mercenary. "How are you feeling, Pritch?"
"Fucking gorram... when I get up from here," Smith wheezed.
"I don't think so." Simon consulted his watch. "If she processed that neurotol precisely - and my sister is always precise when it comes to these things - you're already beginning to lose sensation in your legs."
Smith whispered curses and he slowly sat up. "Doesn't mean I ... can't... blow your head... off."
Simon sighed, reached out and plucked the gun that Smith was pulling from his belt in extreme slow motion. He placed the flat of his palm in the center of Smith's chest and shoved, sending him sprawling on his back. "Relax."
He passed the gun to Jayne, who examined it greedily and tucked it into his belt with a pat.
Zoe hopped up on the table and sat beside Wash, who stared at her. "Honey, why are you drugging Pritch and kicking him?"
Zoe patted his shoulder. "Because he's a bad man, sweetie. Pritch hasn't been totally honest with us."
"Oh?" Wash swung his legs back and forth and watched Smith's discomfort with a certain level of glee. "Never liked him much. Who wants popcorn?"
Zoe snuggled up to him and curled her arm around his. "Ooh, my man has a sadistic streak."
"Only for torturing sadists," Wash solemnly vowed. "I draw the line at torturing non-sadistic, non-violent, people-type-people."
Zoe's dark brows drew together in a frown. "Do we even know anybody like that?"
"Why'd you have to... put that stuff in me?" Smith whined.
"So you won't feel it when we shoot you," Jayne snarled.
"Enough," Mal called out. Everyone hushed. "Let the doc work."
Simon looked from Smith to Mal and back again. "Help me get him up."
Together Mal, Jayne, and Simon maneuvered Smith up onto the table as Zoe and Wash shoved salt shakers and kitchen clutter away. Smith was limp and unresponsive, his head lolling back though his eyes stayed wide open, pupils dilated to make black spheres of his eyes, ringed with a thin cere of color.
"Should I get the really bright, hot lamp?" Wash enthused. Zoe shushed him.
"I'm not gifted like my sister is, Smith, but something tells me you were about to lie to us again." Simon rested his hands on the table and leaned over Smith. "What is that you like to call me... baby doc? I bet you think that's cute," he said softly. "Obviously, history is not your forte'. Old Earth, 21st Century. Ring a bell? Trust me, he wasn't a very cute man, and I'm not feeling very cute at the moment either." He leaned a little closer, far too close to Smith's slyly handsome face, and he was chagrined at how he could have ever mistaken that crafty charm for anything remotely noble or brave.
"Tell me about this virus," Simon urged softly, and watched Smith's eyes go misty with the drug's effects.
"Retro virus... not lethal. Rewrites certain non-active genes to mutate and mimic Hellinger Syndrome."
"What's that?" Mal asked sharply. He looked more worried than Simon had ever seen him.
"It's all right," Simon said aside to him. "Hellinger Syndrome isn't fatal, just highly infectious and debilitating for a short period."
"What good is it as a weapon then, other than short term?"
"I don't know," Simon said impatiently. "Wait." He pitched his voice low for Smith. "Who are these clients? What do they call themselves?"
"No... names."
"He's fighting it," River said. Simon looked over at her. She was sitting calmly in a chair by the hatchway, twirling her dark hair around one finger. "The drug might not be as strong as the weapons- grade quality," she admitted sorrowfully.
"Smith!" Simon barked. "Names."
"No individuals..." Smith muttered, then; "Zhe Shou..."
"Shadow Hand," Mal said. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Two by two," River whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. Her eyes took on a wild glaze.
Simon wanted to go to her, but he firmly turned his attention back to the problem at hand. "Smith... is there someone in the processing center they want to infect? A prisoner or a guard?"
"The processing center doesn't matter, it's what's coming there."
He almost dreaded to know. "What's coming?"
"Same thing... that comes every quarter to transport criminals..."
He's still fighting it, Simon thought. "Tell me, Smith. Tell me now."
"Alliance Cruiser Nemesis."
Simon noted how Mal went still and cold beside him. "Captain Elliot still conning that tank?" Mal asked warily.
"He is."
Mal nearly shoved Simon out of the way in his eagerness to get to Smith. "And I guess me and him having a history had nothing to do with your clients sending you after Serenity?" He slammed his fist on the table, quite near Smith's upturned face. "Tell me, you son of a bitch!"
"Fortunate coincidence. They... always knew where Simon was."
"Coincidence," Jayne snorted. "Sounds damn fishy to me, Mal."
Mal rounded on him, his hands clenched. "Oh, ya think? Coincidence like Simon just happens to show up with his sister in an icebox and a marshal on his tail, just when I happened to be docking?"
Zoe looked grim. "You think it goes that far back?"
"I wouldn't put anything past these people," Simon cautioned. "I tried for six months to get River out of that academy, even longer for a way to contact her. I never came close. These clients of Smith's come along and they deliver her all very neatly bow tied before my credit slip has cooled off. If they told me they could turn back time, I might not believe it but I sure as hell would give it serious theoretical consideration."
"Maybe it's this Captain Elliot they want," Zoe guessed, her voice carefully bland.
"Simon goes to Fonda," Smith muttered, his eyes rolling. "A prisoner. Once he's aboard the Nemesis, he releases the virus and infects the crew."
Simon eyes grew very wide and he took a step back from Smith like he had suddenly gone radioactive.
"Wo de tian ah!"
Heads turned to stare at him. "Don't you get it? They mean to steal a warship from under the Alliance's nose!"
"Okay." Zoe held up her hand. "As exciting as that sounds, can't be done."
"It can," Smith wheezed. Zoe and Mal had moved him to a chair after Simon fetched a neutralizing agent from the medbay. He was coming around faster than Simon expected.
"No, it can't."
Smith laughed. "You ain't changed, Zoe, still the same stubborn, unimaginative, little"
Hey!" Wash yelled. "Shut up before I let Simon kick you again." He winked at Simon. Jayne snickered.
"Simmer down everyone," Mal called out, his voice pitched just loud enough to command. "Wash... can it be done?"
The pilot shrugged. "That depends on how many people are involved. A skeleton crew of maybe twenty could keep a cruiser running, but not for long."
"How long?"
When Wash hesitated, Mal relented. "I'll take a ballpark figure."
"A week," he finally said, then, in a rush; "But after that, captain, it's system failure all over the board. Those old buckets are still flying for one reason only; repeated routine adjustments and maintenance. Now, a skeleton crew can keep her together, keep her on- course with life support functioning, but without the skilled maintenance crew doing their magic every day..." he gave a low whistle illustrated by a thumbs-down sign.
Mal nodded. "Okay, I get the picture." He crooked a finger at Zoe. "Jayne, stay here and watch Smith. Zoe, Wash, you're with me."
"Yeah, I'll watch him." Jayne said ominously, eyeing Smith with something approaching predatory interest.
That didn't sound good. "Just keep an eye on him, nothing else. I mean it." He briefly locked eyes with Simon. "You'd best get back to quarters, doc. Take River, she looks rattled."
Simon nodded. "Mal, I"
"Later." He turned on his heel and left.
Zoe hurried to keep up as Mal's long stride ate up the corridor on the way to the bridge.
"Tell me about you and Captain Elliot."
"Rem Elliot," Mal snapped without looking at her. "Prime officer material. Alliance toady. Supreme jerk."
"Did you meet in the war?"
"Before the war, actually." Pause. "He used to be my best friend."
"Oh."
He felt, rather than saw, her look back at Wash. He steeled himself to answer the inevitable probing, but there was nothing but uncomfortable silence until they reached the bridge. It was chillier up there, cold and quiet as Zoe sealed the hatch and made sure all intercoms were switched off.
She turned to Mal and folded her arms. "Don't make me beg for it, sir."
"Yeah, she hates begging." Wash slid into the helm chair.
"Quiet, babycakes, let the Captain tell his tale."
Serenity thrummed around them and slipped quietly through the black as Mal ran a hand through his hair. "Not much of a bedtime story. Rem Elliot was an Independent. Land owner. Rich, too. Successful, respected. Until one day about three weeks after the first incursion, he vanished from his ranch. We thought he'd been kidnapped. His disappearance turned the whole colony on its ear. I looked everywhere and damn near bribed myself into the poorhouse trying to milk information from the few Alliance contacts we had."
"But," Wash broke in, one finger in the air and his voice lowered to a dramatic bass. "He wasn't kidnapped, was he?"
"No. It was over a year before I saw him again. Rem told me later that he just sat down and did the math and the Independents lost, so he very quietly went over to the other side before the war heated up. Turned his back on everything that meant anything, even his family. Joined the Alliance as an officer and began orchestrating attacks on Independent strongholds. It helped that he knew where they all were. He hurt us pretty bad on Shadow."
"Hwoon dahn!" Wash looked properly chastened for making fun. "I'm sorry, Mal."
"He sounds like *go se *," Zoe growled. "Also doesn't sound like it took much to make him turn."
Mal spread his hands and looked down on them as if there were answers written in the arcane lines of his palms. "What gets me is... he didn't even try. He just did the numbers and turned on us. No loyalty, no feeling, no remorse. If I didn't know better, I wouldn't even think he was human. He got his, though."
"Oh, so there's a happy ending after all?" Wash said.
Mal nodded. "There's a pretty hard and fast rule in espionage; never trust a traitor. Rem had sold out his own people, so when the war ended the Alliance was finished with him. Oh, they made him a captain and settled him with a nice paycheck, then they shipped him over to prison duty. Rousting criminals and busting heads, stuff he's good at. He's been captaining the Nemesis for about four years now. Guard dog duty on the fringe. Not much chance of ever rising in the ranks or entering polite society." Mal shrugged. "So you see, he ended up no different than me or Zoe. He could have resisted the Alliance and kept his self respect. Instead..."
"Instead," Zoe said. "He's gotten bitter and cruel. I've heard the stories, Mal."
Mal's thoughts seemed to visibly be drawing far away. "Ain't we all."
Smith was now unhappily ensconced in secure quarters with an encrypted lock that only Mal could open. He hadn't gone willingly.
"Hell no," Jayne grinned. "Once that homebrew your fong le sister cooked up wore off all the way, he was madder than a wet cat. Had to kind of cram him in that cell. Hope I didn't dent anything. "
Simon smiled. "The cell or his skull?"
Jayne shrugged as he wiped his rifle down with an oiled rag. His hands were smeared with gun oil and little streaks of dark gray grime, and he handled the gleaming weapon like it was made of glass. His very large hands, Simon thought.
"Little difference, either way."
"Sterling sensibility," Simon chuckled. "That's what I like about you." He sobered a little, then cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. "By the way... that tiny brain comment I made..."
Jayne waved that away. "Forget it. Jokes about my brain are kind of standard around here. Besides," he winked "hard to stay mad at someone with a mouth like that."
"Well, anyway, I ... what?"
Jayne had to be either cagily ignoring Simon's astonishment or was oblivious to it. Surely the lower jaw resting on my shoes has given me away.
"Ain't there no mirrors on that fancy planet you come from?"
Simon turned the thought over in his mind, wondering why it felt so odd. "Are you trying to tell me I'm attractive?"
"More or less." Jayne checked the rifle a last time and put it carefully away.
Jayne thinks I'm attractive. He struggled to speak. "Why do I have the feeling that your head should be spinning around?"
Jayne threw down the cloth and grabbed Simon around the waist, yanking the shocked man very close to his body. "You know, you talk too ruttin' much."
Simon gasped and found nothing to say at all.
"Whoa!"
Then who said that?
Jayne barely glanced at Mal. "Howdy, Cap'n," he greeted easily.
Mal froze in mid-stride, his mouth open. He almost turned to go, then halted. Wait a gorram second, why am I leaving? If Jayne wants to make advances, let him do it on his own time, not mine.
AND NOT WITH SIMON, flared up in neon letters in his brain.
"Howdy," he got out. "Am I interrupting?"
Jayne did not relinquish his hold. All his attention was for Simon. "Nope."
"I should be getting back to the lab..." Simon began.
"What for?"
"Huh?"
Jayne looked down on Simon, his mouth curved in a languid smile. Mal saw with a flush of anger that Jayne's hand was moving in small circles on Simon's lower back, just above the waistband of his trousers.
"I said, what for? You ain't got no patients. Ain't nobody sick or hurt. Well, except for Smith feeling a little groggy. He don't count." Jayne's arm circled his waist tighter. "Stay and talk to me."
"The doc might not have work to do," Mal said tightly "but you certainly do."
Jayne's bright blue gaze slid lazily over to the captain. "You ordering or asking?"
It was a challenge if he ever heard one. And then there was Simon, looking flushed and embarrassed and altogether too small in Jayne's arms. He stared at Simon, noticing that he didn't return the look, instead fixed his eyes at a point beyond Mal's shoulder, like he was consulting some inner negotiator about the wisdom of saying or doing anything at all.
"I'm ordering, Jayne."
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End of Chapter 10
Chapter 11: Insight
Author: Dariclone
Email: minako@trondata.on.ca
Pairings: Simon/Other; Simon/Mal; Simon/Jayne Rating: R
Disclaimer: Firefly belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox. No one is making any profits from writing this fanfic.Summary: River shares her insight with Simon
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Simon walked to his quarters in stunned silence. Why had he reacted in such a way to Jayne? Wasn't it Mal he wanted? When Simon entered his quarters, he found River sitting on her bed staring at him with a smile on her face.
"Mei mei, are you alright?" he questioned, softly.
"Yes, I'm alright, he couldn't hurt me. He might be able to bring pain, but I saw. I saw inside of him. Everything hidden inside; locked away for safe keeping. But I came along and unlocked the door and I could see it all."
She stooped and looked at Simon.
"You're different!" she accused.
"No, mei mei." he tried to reassure her.
"No!" She waved a finger accusingly. "You've changed, I can see it. You're all torn up inside. You don't know where you belong. You're lost and lonely but you cling to them and all the while you don't know who to choose."
Simon blinked, unnerved. He knew River had powers greater than most but it still scared him that she could know so much. Unsure of how to react to this, he just sat down next to her, trying to calm her. But still, he worried that maybe she wouldn't be the only one who could see what was going on.
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End of Chapter 11
Chapter 12: Timing
Author: midnightBlue0162
Email: nifflet@hotmail.com
Pairing: Simon/Other; Simon/Mal; Simon/Jayne; Mal/Simon/Jayne Rating: R
Disclaimer: "Firefly" and its characters belong to Fox and Mutant Enemy. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended. Notes: Many thanks to Max and Tiina and sffan for beta reading, and to Homie V for general encouragement and support.Summary: There is no time for this.
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hundan= bastard
wo de tien ah= dear God in heaven
tamade= motherfucker+++
River stood suddenly, and brought Simon's hand to her lips. "Don't forget. Don't forget what he taught you."
Simon reached for her but she drew away, fingers sliding out of his grip. Tears shone in her eyes, and a faint smile shadowed her mouth. "Ghosts won't be locked away forever," she whispered, and disappeared in a flurry of skirts and streaming hair.
Simon blew out an exasperated breath. Cryptic River-speak. Just what he needed after that little scene with Mal and Jayne in the kitchen. He could still feel Jayne's hand on his back, warm and insistent and more welcome than it should have been. And he could still feel Mal's eyes slicing through him as he ordered Jayne away.
"You ordering or asking?" Jayne had asked.
"I'm ordering, Jayne."
Simon's heart thumped hard in his chest when Mal spoke. Jayne's fingers slipped below his waistband for a brief, terrifying moment before the merc nudged him aside and stood up.
"Whatever you say, Captain," Jayne said. He gathered his guns and strolled out.
Mal stayed where he was, thumbs hooked on his gunbelt, studying Simon with casual disinterest.
"Mal, I--"
"Ain't got time for this, Doc. There's more important things need to be done. Go on now, get straightened up. Jayne and Zoe are bringing Pritch out again so's we can make a plan. Won't do for him to see you lookin' like... that."
Unsure of his voice, Simon shifted uncomfortably and moved towards the door. He waited for Mal to move aside and let him pass, then gave up and stepped one foot carefully past him. He gasped when Mal's arm shot out in front of his chest, blocking the way.
"I ain't one likes to share, even if no claim's been made. You think on that, and maybe when this job's done, we'll have us another chat." Mal's blazing eyes held him a moment longer, and then he dropped his arm and stomped off towards the bridge.
Alone now that River was gone, Simon closed his eyes and hugged himself. Mal was right. There was no time for this.
The comm suddenly crackled to life. "Come on up, Doc, we're ready."
Mal took the syringe from Simon and rolled it through his fingers. He tried not to smirk at the bright flare of panic that flashed in Pritchard's eyes. He tried.
"We figure your employers got some specific notions on when and where Simon gets picked up," Mal said as he circled the chair Smith was tied to. "And we figure you don't want them knowin' you let all that information slip out this morning. So." Mal grabbed Smith by the hair and yanked his head back. "Any time you're ready, Pritch."
He awoke from a bruise-colored dream to find himself locked in Serenity's underbelly again. He glared into the darkness, fists clenched ineffectually at his sides, a jumble of thoughts clashing in his head. Everything. He'd told them every rutting detail. Disgusted, he heaved himself up from the bed.
Pritchard paced his quarters like the caged animal he was, trying to rationalize. He had no chance of getting paid if the Doc didn't show up. He would have had to tell them about the arrest plan anyway, so maybe he still had a chance of getting out of this mess. And Reynolds wouldn't risk the girl. Or the Doc, come to think of it. They made quite an effective team. His pants were still shamefully damp.
He kicked his bunk in frustration. Reynolds was planning something. Something big. Hundan just couldn't leave the Alliance alone. And when Reynolds made his move, it'd be obvious where he got his intel. And then... well, not much would matter after that. Pritchard rubbed idly at the still-healing wound on his abdomen. River wasn't the only one with a hitchhiker on board.
He kicked the door this time, grunting in pain and then freezing in his tracks.
It was open.
He snatched his bag from the floor and was out of the room without a second thought.
Mal's lips were soft and pliant against his neck, and the lazy crawl of his tongue made Simon shiver. His hips swayed forward and his head fell back, and he let his body sag in Mal's arms.
"Yes," he whispered.
He rocked his hips slowly and was surprised at the rough texture of Mal's pants against his cock. He was naked. He was naked, and there were hands. Too many hands. One on his hip, gently petting. One just under his jaw, holding his head still as Mal kissed him. And two more behind him, dragging stripes down his back, cupping his ass and squeezing. Then there were lips, the scratch of a beard, and a tongue, a wet and pointed and searching and finding tongue, and he gasped into Mal's mouth as it lapped at him.
"Aaah, Jayne...god..."
And he was so hard between them, rocking and vibrating and needing, that when another hand pressed over his cock, he thrust against it blindly, not caring who it belonged to as long as it just kept moving like that.
"Wo de tien ah... please..."
A low rumble flowed over his ear. "Sorry, baby doc. No time. You save that for later though." Smith gave him a vicious squeeze. "Soon as we put some black between us and this wreck, you can show me all your new tricks."
Simon was barely awake before Pritchard knocked him unconscious.
Mal looked over the charts again as he got dressed the next morning. Wash had found the route schedule for the Nemesis, and everything Pritch had told them matched up. They were bound for Chronos, where Simon would be arrested less than twelve hours before the Nemesis entered that quadrant. After an overnight stop for maintenance and supplies, she'd depart for Fonda Ridge with a few new prisoners on board.
Two days. They had two days to come up with a plan before they reached Chronos. Mal shrugged into his suspenders and sighed. That left him about half an hour to stop seeing Simon in Jayne's arms every time he closed his eyes.
Zoe was just emerging from her bunk when he turned towards the bridge. "Morning, Sir," she mumbled. "Should I check on Pritch?"
"I s'pose. Take him some water, maybe. Or not." Mal managed a weak smile as she disappeared down the hall.
He stepped up to the bridge and scanned the console. They were still on course, and the Cortex was quiet. The light for shuttle two's docking mechanism was out again, though. Loose wire leftover from Saffron's brief stint as Serenity's mechanic. He tapped it a couple of times, frowning when it didn't blink back to life like it usually did.
"Sir," Zoe's voice was grim. Mal's stomach dropped. He willed the light to wink back on. "I think you should get down here. Pritch is gone."
He was down to the passenger dorms and outside Simon's room before she'd finished speaking. Cursing and pleading as his shaking hands slid the door open.
"No. No no no please--" But Simon's bunk was empty. The blood on the pillow was already dry. He slammed his fist into the wall. "Tamade! How the fuck... I locked that rutting bunk. Oh god, Simon! How--"
"My apologies, Captain," Book said from behind him. "Perhaps you'll allow me to explain."
+++
End of Chapter 12
Chapter 13: Blood in the Water
Author: Juli
Email: challisgal@yahoo.com
Pairing(s): Simon/Other; Simon/Mal; Simon/Jayne Rating: R
Disclaimer: "Firefly" and its characters belong to Fox and Mutant Enemy. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended. Notes: Many thanks to sffan for a speedy and thorough beta read. Any remaining mistakes are, of course, utterly my fault.Summary: Things go to hell in a hand basket.
+++
gou shi = dog shit
tamade hundan = mother-humping son of a bitch gou cao de = dog fucking
lese = garbage
zao gao = oh, crap+++
Mesmerized by the blood stain, Mal didn't bother to look at him. "For your own sake, Preacher, I hope you're not gonna try and tell me this was an act of God."
"No, I'm afraid not," Book's voice sounded weary with disappointment. "Just a man who was all too susceptible to his own human frailty."
Mal whirled, glaring at the older man. "Just speak plain, Shepherd," he barked. "I ain't got no patience for religious double-talk."
"Forgive me, Captain," Book said calmly. "But your temper is somewhat legendary and I didn't want you to do anything rash.
"Oh, I'm contemplatin' something rash, all right," Mal said through his teeth, fists clenched at his sides.
Book sighed at the implied threat. "I found Jayne down by the shuttle area. Unconscious." He handed Mal a small black object. "He had this in his hand."
It didn't take Mal long to figure out what it was... and what its presence meant.
"Tamade hundan," the captain snarled. With long strides, he bolted for the shuttle area. With only a slight pause, Book followed.
"Jayne!" Mal bellowed as soon as he caught sight of the merc. "What did you do?"
Jayne was rather wobbly as he sat up, a bloody towel pressed to his head. Inara knelt next to him, serving as a nurse. The Companion kept looking towards the infirmary, as though waiting for Simon to arrive.
"Didn't do nuthin', Mal," Jayne whined. "Was on my way to the commons ta get me some grub an' somethin' hit me."
"You expect me to believe that gou she?" Mal growled. "When you got this?" He waved the black object at the mercenary. "After Ariel, you really expect me to believe that?"
By this time, the rest of the crew had been drawn by the sounds of shouting.
"What is that, sir?" Zoe asked. As usual, she was the bravest of them in the face of Mal's anger. "And what does Ariel have to do with it?"
Mal didn't take his eyes off Jayne. "This here's an electric ledger. Gives our Mr. Cobb access to some accounts and, from the numbers on the ledger, they're mighty hefty accounts too."
Wash and Kaylee looked at each other, confused.
"And access to lots of money is a bad thing because...?" Wash asked.
"Pritch is missing, dear," Zoe said quietly. Too quietly.
"And so is Simon," Mal added, his voice tight. "And I'm guessin' we're a shuttle short of what we should be too."
"Simon's gone?" Kaylee whispered, eyes big. "You think Pritch has somethin' to do with it?"
"Pritch and whoever let him out of his quarters," Mal said, eyes coming back to Jayne.
"Weren't me," the merc said firmly.
Mal stalked over the last few feet to where Jayne still sat on the floor and contemptuously tossed the electronic pad into his lap. "This says otherwise. Besides, you got a history of bein' bought off."
"Sir?" Zoe asked, fingers twitching towards where her gun would be hanging if she had her belt on.
The captain opened his mouth to explain, but a surprising voice beat him to it.
"It were on Ariel," Jayne said as he lurched to his feet. With a last dab at his forehead, he dropped the towel to the floor. "I got stupid; tried to turn the doc and his sister in t'the Alliance. It was the reward, it messed my head up some." He looked at the other members of the crew with surprising dignity. "When I saw Simon doctorin' on that fella at the hospital... I almost changed my mind about it, even before the Alliance screwed me over."
"Oh, Jayne," Inara said, voice quiet.
Her disappointment was echoed in the faces of the others. Jayne squared his shoulders and addressed them all. "I ain't much for regret, but that was one a' the most stupid-ass things I ever did. Mal learned me that... and I ain't forgot." He stared straight into Mal's eyes as he finished. "I didn't do this. I'd soon as kill that bastard Smith as let him go and I'd sure as hell never let him leave with Simon."
Mal remembered walking in on the other men several hours earlier and the possessive way Jayne had held Simon. Although his memory was colored by the haze of jealously, he couldn't deny there'd been real emotion there. That, more than anything else, convinced him of Jayne's innocence.
"No, I suppose you wouldn't at that," the captain reluctantly agreed.
"You want me to toss him out the air lock, sir?" Zoe asked. Her eyes were hard from the newly-discovered treachery. For her and the others, Ariel was as fresh as if it had just happened.
"No, we might need him," Mal said. He rubbed his eyes, fighting off a headache. Being angry at Jayne had been so much easier. Now that the first flush of rage was gone, his mind kept creeping back to the idea that Simon - Simon! - was alone with Pritchard Smith. The one thing Mal had been trying to avoid at all costs.
"Are you sure?" Zoe pressed. "We'd fly lighter without his carcass on board."
"Hey!" Jayne protested, but Mal cut him off.
"I have a feelin' we'll need every gun we got before we're though. Knowin' Pritch, he knocked Jayne out and left the ledger behind deliberately. The more time we spend fightin' amongst ourselves, the less time we spend chasin' him," Mal said, ignoring Jayne to address his second-in-command. "And, Zoe," Mal waited until she'd taken her gaze off Jayne and looked him straight in the eye. "Ariel's done been taken care of. It was between Jayne and me and I say it's finished. Dong ma?"
Zoe nodded.
"To hell with me," Jayne growled. "We should be worried about the doc. That gou cao de bastard's got him. We don't work fast, there might not be anything left to rescue." Jayne's voice stopped abruptly as the import of his own words sank in. He was surprised at how deeply the idea of Simon being hurt affected him.
"We can't let anything happen to him, Simon's already been through so much," Kaylee wailed. Although she'd come to realize he would never be her lover, Kaylee still had a soft spot for the young doctor. "What're we gonna do, Cap'n?"
Mal's eyes swept the group. "We go after him."
"Are you sure that's wise, Captain?" Book questioned. "I'm all for rescuing the boy, but we have his sister to consider. Simon would not thank us if that tracking device was activated and the Alliance was called down on her head."
"I understand your concern, Shepherd, but, thanks to River's concoction, we know all Smith knew," Mal reminded him. "We've got two days. We'll go fetch Simon, gut Pritch and strangle him with his own innards, and still get back in time for the rendezvous with the Zhe Shou."
"I don't know about that, Mal," Wash spoke up. "The black's not an easy place to follow somebody. Ships don't exactly leave footprints that I can trace. Not with this boat's lese equipment, anyway. I have no way to track them."
"I can."
The others all turned to look at River. Despite her brother being in deadly peril, the teen looked quite calm.
"The black is strewn with Simon's tears," she told them. "I can taste them. Follow the man who made them fall. I'll hunt the ghost into hell if I have to."
Mal smiled, but there was no joy in it. "There you go. River's our secret weapon. Ol' Pritch'll be takin' his time, thinkin' we got no way to find him. We'll be able to get Simon and still get back in time for the job." The captain made the effort to keep his tone light. He wanted to make it to seem simple, in the hopes that it would be simple. Above all else, he did not want to think of what was happening to Simon, alone with Pritchard Smith.
He looked around at the others. "Wash, what are you still doin' here? Take River with you to the cockpit and get goin'."
"Yes, sir!" Wash gave Mal a sloppy but sincere salute. "C'mon, River. We're gonna sniff the stars and look for your brother."
The two left and the rest of the group began ambling towards the kitchen. Despite the craziness of the plan, not a one questioned that River would be able to track her sibling. Not after what had happened with Jubal Early. Seeing her cook up a potion that had brought a man of Pritchard Smith's size to his knees had cemented her reputation with the rest of Serenity's crew.
"Thanks for believin' me, Mal," Jayne said quietly, walking beside the captain.
Mal's slid a sideways glance at the bigger man. "You've been on the up and up with me since Ariel, even if you are eyein' Simon." The captain cleared his throat and then continued. "Speakin' of Simon, once all this is done, we're gonna have to talk. I don't share."
Jayne's expression was determined. "Me neither."
"Men!" Inara exclaimed, having overheard them. "You'll just have to let Simon decide. Once we get him back, that is."
"What happens then?" Kaylee asked. "After we catch up to Pritch and Simon's all safe and sound?"
By this time, the weary crew had reached the eating area. Jayne sank down into a chair and Inara immediately moved to get a fresh towel. With Mal so preoccupied and Zoe still looking angry, the Companion figured it would be best if she saw to the mercenary's head wound.
Mal considered Kaylee's question. "I'm sorry, little Kaylee, I know you like Pritch, but what he done... what he done was bad." Mal steeled himself to endure her distress. "Pritch puts up any fight at all and we're gonna have hurt to him."
Kaylee waved him off. "Well, of course we'll hurt him! I just want to know who gets to hurt him first."
"Kaylee!" Inara protested.
The captain held up his hand. Inara did not take well to being shushed. "Mal, you can't just let her talk like that. It's bad enough when you and Zoe and Jayne speak that way...."
"Quiet," Mal ordered.
Zoe had been leaning against the wall but came to attention. "What is it, sir? What do you hear?"
"It's what I don't hear that worries me," Mal said. "Shouldn't there be some engine noises comin' along `bout now?"
Wash's agitated voice drifted down to them from the cockpit. "Zao gao, something's wrong! I can't get the propulsion to fire the right way."
"Oh, no," Kaylee said under her breath. Without being told, she scooted out of the kitchen and took off towards the engine room at a dead run.
No one dared speak until she returned, walking much slower and with slumped shoulders.
"Sorry, Cap'n," Kaylee said, a sniffle in her voice. "But we're at a dead stop."
Mal's voice was brittle with forced calm. "And why is that?"
"It must have been Pritch!" Kaylee wailed. "He done all sorts of wickedness to the engines." She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, leaving a smudge of dirt on her forehead. "I'm sorry, it's all my fault... I... I gave him a tour of the engine room when he first got here. I was so proud an' wanted to show him the new modifications...."
Surprisingly gentle, Mal took her by the shoulders and gave a her tender shake. "Ain't your fault, little Kaylee. We didn't know what kind of man Pritch was down deep - where it counts. Shouldn't have been no harm in showin' a friend around your home."
Kaylee kept her head low when Mal released her and Inara stepped away from Jayne in order to wrap an arm around the despondent girl's shoulders.
"What now?" Wash asked. He and River had left the useless cockpit to rejoin the group. The girl's eyes were shadowed and unfocused.
"How long `til we're movin'?" Mal asked Kaylee.
"I dunno," she bit her lip, knowing how important it was. "A day, maybe more. He done messed us up but good."
"That doesn't leave time to save Simon and be back for the rendezvous." Book said quietly.
"Ghosts can hurt you," River whispered hoarsely. "They put their red wet lips on your body and feast on your soul." She looked at Mal as though he understood her. "If a ghost gets too far inside, it'll never get come out."
Mal looked at River's desperate face to Kaylee's tear-stained one. Zoe and Jayne looked ready to kill something and even Wash seemed eager for action. Inara went so far as to have a forehead wrinkled with concern, while Book just gazed at him steadily.
"Sir?" Zoe asked.
"We fix the ship," Mal grated out, fists clenched. "And then we make for the Fonda Ridge rendezvous.
"What about Simon?" Kaylee asked.
"Are we going to leave him with that awful man?" Inara chimed in.
Zoe, however, had figured it out. "We're going to go after the Nemesis, aren't we, sir?"
Mal nodded curtly. "Only, we're not gonna hand it over to those damn bloodless Zhe Shou, we're gonna use it to rescue Simon."
Pritchard Smith was not a wise man. Cunning, yes. Crafty, without a doubt. Devious, absolutely. But wise? No.
A wise man would not have left Mal Reynolds alive behind him.
Smith's hair was the dark reddish brown color of yesterday's spilled blood. He ran his fingers through it, thinking. His first concern had been getting as far away from Serenity and Mal's wrath as he could. He didn't know if the number he'd done on their engines was good enough to keep them from following. When it was clear he'd made a clean getaway, Pritch finally took time to consider his options.
He was screwed, there was no doubt about it. Reynolds and that freakish little witch made sure Pritch had told all he knew about the Zhe Shou. Smith hadn't been lying when he said he didn't know who they were; he truly didn't. He knew enough, though, to know that they weren't a group to be crossed. It was a good bet they would not be willing to accept being forcibly drugged as an excuse for blabbering, either. No, they weren't going to be pleased and, with that little hitchhiking tracker they'd implanted in him, the Zhe Shou would easily be able to find him to voice that displeasure too.
A soft sound interrupted Smith's thoughts. He looked down to see Simon Tam stir. With a sigh, the doctor subsided, still unconscious. Smith grinned as his eyes raked over Simon's form. The shuttle was a smaller vessel than Serenity and having the pretty in the cockpit with him wasn't very comfortable. He could have tied Simon up in the back, but that would have meant that Pritch couldn't look at him as often and, really, where was the fun in that?
Leaving the baby doc behind had never been an option. Simon had been part of Pritch's pay and he never left a job without getting what was due him. So what if the virus hadn't been delivered to the Nemesis' crew yet? The Zhe Shou had another Tam they could have arrested and do their infecting for them.
Simon was his.
The doc's restless movements had caused his shirt to pull out from his pants, exposing a small strip of smooth skin. Pritch couldn't help it; one hand snaked of its own accord to slip under the cloth and caress his prize's flesh. He chuckled a bit as he remembered removing the knife that had been tucked down the back of the boy's pants. What was it with Serenity's crew and knives? First Zoe and then Kaylee had threatened to cut Smith, but that didn't surprise him as much as finding the pretty boy armed. Maybe Simon had done some growing up, after all.
Absently continuing the petting motion, Pritch weighed the choice of planets that the shuttle's fuel could get him to. There was no real competition - Tortuga was within reach and would have been his first choice, even if he didn't have fuel limitations to consider. Tortuga was a place a man could have some illicit surgery, to remove tracking devices, and no one would give it a second thought. No one would notice - or care - if his traveling companion was a little less than cooperative too.
Coordinates entered, Pritch was free to savor his companion. He didn't know what he was looking forward to more, breaking the boy's body or his spirit. Remembering the undulating Simon had been doing in the midst of his dream, Smith got up from his chair and straddled the doc where he lay on the floor. Lifting the shirt completely out of Simon's pants, Pritch let his fingers have free play over Simon's chest, mapping out patterns. He'd use the boy's own knife...
"Are you really so pathetic that you have to take your pleasure from someone who's unconscious?" Simon asked, not even bothering to open his eyes. Pritch hadn't even been aware that the pretty was awake. "What's next - necrophilia?"
Far from being offended, Pritch was delighted by his captive's sarcasm. The spirited ones were a lot of fun to play with. Grinning, he bent down and kissed Simon thoroughly, using one large hand to force the doctor's head still when Simon started squirming. When he pulled back, Simon's lower lip was bleeding.
"Just getting a feel for what's mine, baby doc," Pritch said smugly.
Simon looked at him calmly. "Mal will kill you."
Smith laughed heartily. "Oh, I don't think so, baby doc." He got up and turned the Nav-Com so Simon could see. "He's got to catch me first and look here, he ain't even trying." Pritch gloated a bit when he could see a frisson of doubt enter into Simon's eyes. Breaking Simon Tam physically was only a part of Pritchard's pleasure. "Don't look like he figures you're worth enough to bother with."
Simon squared his jaw and glared at him. "He'll come, just you see."
"If you say so, pretty," Pritch agreed amicably, stretching his large body on the floor next to Simon. Propping his head up on one hand, he surveyed his domain while the other hand made lazy exploration of his captive. "Until then, you and me are gonna have some fun. You've got some tricks to show me, remember?"
"You're evil," Simon said in disbelief. "How can someone who dangled Kaylee on his knee be evil?"
One handed, Pritchard's deft fingers started unbuttoning Simon's shirt. "Kaylee's easy. All it took to get her regard was to give her a pint of strawberries and let her blather on about her ma and pa." At Simon's outraged look, Smith laughed again. "Oh, I didn't mount her, pretty. No doubt she's a lusty little strumpet, but she's far too experienced and enthusiastic for me to find all that appealing. No inhibitions to break down," he leered before he left off with the shirt to grab Simon's crotch, squeezing it without regard to the doctor's comfort.
Simon grit his teeth and stayed silent. No matter what he said, Pritchard twisted it and made it come out wrong somehow. He was determined not to give the man any more opportunities.
Smith noticed his prisoner's seething and decided to poke him a little more. "Now, Mal Reynolds... there's a fine figure of a man."
His tactic worked. Simon's eyes widened and he lost his resolve not to speak. "Mal would never have... sexual relations... with a man like you."
Pritchard shrugged, keeping his grin to himself for a change. "If you say so, pretty. But, that rule of his about not getting intimate with the crew, it had to start somewhere."
He was lying, of course. Truth was, during his original tenure with Reynolds' crew, Smith had about worn out his welcome on Serenity by trying to lure Malcolm Reynolds into his bunk. That rule of Mal's, though, had been in place long before Pritch had arrived and, try as he might, Smith couldn't get Mal to budge.
Smith's hand paused as the big man remembered that stupid rule of Reynolds'... and why it really started. He smiled that lazy smile of his at the thought and left off groping his prisoner. Ignoring Simon's sigh of relief, he got up. While he was a firm believer in all work and no play making Pritch a very dull boy, he had a task to do.
Smith dug through the bag he'd been sure to take with him when he fled Serenity. Mal and the others had found the vial of Hellinger Syndrome and had removed it to their infirmary. What they hadn't found, and being smugglers themselves he was very disappointed in them that they hadn't, was the false bottom on the bag. It was his hidden stash and revealed that River Tam wasn't the only one with a flair for unusual pharmaceuticals.
Rubbing his hands together, Pritch was once again faced with a number of choices. He wanted something that would make Simon a little easier to control, but still fun to play with. He didn't want to break the doc with drugs, just enhance the experience a bit. Finally making up his mind, he loaded the injection gun and deliberately stalked over to the prone man.
"What's that?" Simon said, eyes all but rolling as he tried to see what was in Smith's hands.
"That's for me to know and you to find out, pretty," Pritchard said. Planting a knee on Simon's chest to control his squirming, Smith drew Simon's shirt up and injected the doctor in the stomach, ignoring the young man's cry of pain. "There you go, baby doc."
Simon's struggles continued but slowly ceased as the drug entered his system. Giving the boy's belly a proprietary pat, Pritchard stowed the injection device away before sitting down in front of the screen that would give him access to the Cortex.
Chatting with Simon about Mal's insipid policy for not getting romantically involved with his crew had reminded Smith of something. If he played his cards right, it might help keep at least Reynolds, and maybe the Zhe Shou, off his back. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend" and all that shit. Reynolds had come up with that rule because of a past relationship, one that had gone sour. Thanks to a drunken confession Mal had made during his annual Alliance Day pub crawl, Pritch just happened to be privy to the details.
Pritchard Smith was just betting that Rem Elliot, now captain of the Nemesis, would be very interested in learning about the plans his past love, one Malcolm Reynolds, had in mind for his ship. He'd just clue in Elliot on the whole virus hijacking plan, conveniently leaving out the Zhe Shou or that Smith's own escape might have scuttled the whole thing. Elliot would never sit still for it, if he even thought it was a possibility. He'd come after Mal loaded for bear and Reynolds would soon be too busy evading the Nemesis to come after Pritch.
Former lovers, they always said, made the best adversaries. Pritchard Smith was going to enjoy a ringside seat to find out if that old saying was true.
Book entered his quarters, choosing to keep the lights dim. It had been a long day, one filled with a plethora of reversals. He wasn't quite ready for more illumination. The preacher sat heavily in the chair at his desk, trying to collect himself before doing his last chore of the day.
Patience, that was what the `verse was lacking. He'd watched as Mal Reynolds had careened from one wildly conceived plan to another. Book acknowledged to himself that the captain was capable of waiting when he chose. The problem was that Mal chose patience so infrequently, preferring to work by the seat of his pants.
Book remembered a time before he wore a shepherd's collar. His son had been much the same as Mal. He'd tried to teach his only child patience, but the head-strong youngster had never listened, finally running off to make his own way in the wo