The Passenger: Book I

It was supposed to have been an easy job. Simple. Camille would slip into her target's private rooms while he was out, poison his alcohol, and be out without anyone knowing security had been compromised. It was something she'd done before with no problems, and this job had no reason to be any different.

It wasn't as if she were at fault. Her groundwork had been meticulous. For three weeks, Camille had studied her target. He'd been an admiral in the Alliance, distinguished himself in battle multiple times, and was discharged with highest honors after an injury that could not be repaired. Nowadays he taught at a military academy and had a myriad of side hobbies that keep the credits rolling in, ranging from small arms dealing to slave trading and more. The admiral was completely corrupted, ruthless, and utterly heartless.

There were many reason to assassinate him, but the reason Garrison Pike--her savior and employer--had given Camille was the colony scam the admiral had run on the border planets just the year before. Over three hundred colonists had been recruited to colonize a newly terraformed planet. Admiral Lawson had promised each a herd, plenty of supplies to start out with, two hundred credits each, and homes already built. They were flown on the admiral's private fleet and dropped off with everything they needed.

Unfortunately, everything they needed was also diseased and dying. The colonists were forced to purchase everything new from a company the admiral held the majority stock in; those who refused didn't last the first month. Everyone would have died, in fact, had Garrison not intervened.

And, after he intervened, he struck a path for retribution and gave the supposedly easy job to his most trusted and favored operative.

After her three weeks of study, Camille had known everything about her target, from his preferred tea to his daily schedule to what hand he held his dick with when he took a piss. She also knew that at sixteen hundred hours on the eight of June, Admiral Lawson had an appointment with a Companion. They would meet in her shuttled, which was going to be parked on the roof of is apartment building, leaving his room deserted.

Everything was planned down to the last second. Unfortunately, the plan also depended on him being out of his room when Camille slipped in to do his work, which was why she was caught off guard when the admiral returned to his room not ten minutes after disappearing into the Companion's shuttle.

The both froze, Camille holding his favorite wine and a vial of poison and Lawson with his hands on his belt, clearly ready to undo it.

At first, he didn't even react. After all, she was barely five foot one, which was hardly imposing. Plus, despite the short, boy-like wig and make-up used to roughen her features, her clothes--designed for ease in scaling up the side of the building and slipping through small spaces--did nothing to hide her figure. He wasn't ready for her attack; men of his class were used to curvaceous women being genteel and helpless, not threatening.

Camille, though, belied any expectations. While he was still standing there, gaping at her, she tucked the poison in the edge of her sleeve and launched herself at him.

Her elbow drove into his neck, just below his Adam's apple. Gagging, he took a few steps back, one beefy hand lashing out and catching her across the face. Camille turned away from the blow, stumbling a few steps; she blocked the next punch he threw and got a strong jab into his doughy stomach.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

She gritted her teeth and did a side kick at his knees. The admiral, though, saw it coming and stepped aside. His fist smashed into her cheek once again and he kicked her standing leg out from under her. Camille slammed to the ground, catching herself on her arm. In the next moment, she found herself pinned to the floor his knee pressed crushingly into her breastbone.

"Answer me," Lawson said, leaning into her hard.

Camille coughed as her airway was restricted. Grasping his leg, she took as deep a breath as she could, braced herself, then kicked her legs off the floor. She almost didn't make it, but he was taken by surprise and let up on some of the pressure; her right foot connected with the side of his head and he released her, allowing her to roll away.

She scrambled away got to her feet, but as she palmed the vial from her sleeve, the admiral kicked her in the small of her back, sending her flying across the room. She smashed into the dresser, a sharp corner catching her on the forehead. Stars from the impact and pain flashed across her eyes; Camille blinked and shook her head. When she felt steady, she turned, ready to attack again.

The knife slipped between her ribs without her seeing that he'd drawn it. She gasped in pain, eyes widening.

Lawson laughed. "Well, little girl, that's what you get for playing with the big boys," he said. His hand grabbed the front of her shirt and tugged her foreword, knife sinking deeper inside her. "Who sent you?"

Camille wrapped her hands around his wrist, more for support than anything else.

He twisted the knife. "*Who*? Was it Renfield? Lee? Suriyawong?"

Adrenaline and conditioning kicked in. "You have a lot of enemies, don't you?" Camille smirked at him, bracing herself.

"One doesn't make it as high as I have without accumulating some," he replied. "Who was it that sent you, child?"

Jerking on his arm, Camille lifted herself off the ground and over. Both legs kicked him in the face as she cartwheeled over him, landing neatly on the other side.

The blows affected him, and he stumbled dizzily. The knife was still in his hand, bright red and dripping blood. Camille eased herself into a fighting stance and, as Lawson lurched towards her, she delivered a vicious roundhouse kick to his head.

He fell like rock. Quickly, Camille straddled his body, uncapping the poison which was still in her hand. She dumped it directly onto his tongue, not noticing as he sank the knife into her once more.

It was his final act.

Unfortunately, he died with her blood on his shirt. Since the poison was untraceable, she had to get rid of the evidence that she'd been there. Camille changed his clothes, wrinkling her nose at the soft, pale mass of skin of an admiral who'd let himself go. His shirt was used to bind her wounds, which were bleeding furiously. As she climbed down the side of the building into the deserted alley below, she could feel the bandage grow wet and soak through to her shirt. By the time she made it to the bolt hole she was feeling the affects of the blood loss.

"Hang in there," she told herself as she pulled off her wig. Her short red hair was in pin rolls, which she quickly tugged out, scattering the pins to the floor. No one but Garrison's agents ever used the bolt hole, and they all understood that sometimes, their just wasn't enough time to clean up after a job. She was sorry to see the wig go, but she had others, both in her bag and in other bolt holes on other planets.

The climbing clothes she traded for a loose fitting flannel shirt and cargo pants. She popped brown contacts out to reveal her own blue eyes; the make-up she'd worn to disguise her features was washed off along with blood and replaced by a light layer of powder, enough to minimize the worst of the bruises without concealing them completely; with the rate she was losing blood at, she didn't have time to do a complete cover job.

She tied another layer to her bandage, stuffed clothes, food, money, and supplies into her already packed rucksack, and left the bolt hole. The world was beginning to spin around and she was shivering from shock-induced cold. She was definitely going to need medical attention very soon.

But that was going to have to be secondary. Her original plan was to leave Persephone tomorrow so she was still there if the Admiral somehow didn't take his nightly drink and die. That had been before everything had been shot to hell. Now, she had to get off the planet and fast.

* * *

Kaylee loved Simon and River to itty bitty bits. Really, she did. And she didn't regret nothing about them coming aboard Serenity, neither. Not getting shot or sleeping next to a girl who could kill with her eyes closed. Not having her mind read or heart near broke. She didn't even mind that she was almost raped by a psycho killer. After all, despite all the dangers, the Tams had brought to Kaylee's life two things she'd never give up: a wonderful friend and a lover. She wouldn't trade either in for anything.

That didn't stop her, though, from missin' the days when Serenity used to take on passengers. They weren't able to much no more because they couldn't risk River and Simon. And that meant no more new faces and stories and jokes and the like. And while Kaylee didn't want to put either of the Tams in danger, she sometimes wished that things were different.

But they weren't, and she mostly accepted that and was happy with what she had. So, she was surprised when, just that morning, Mal had told her to keep an eye out for potential passengers.

"River can help you suss out the safe ones," Mal'd said as he strapped on his holster. He, Zoe, Wash, and Jayne had headed out to pick up the cargo they were hauling to Dyton Colony. "Figure if a reader is good for anything, it's picking thems that won't turn her and her brother into the Alliance first chance they get. And we can use the money."

"Are you sure, Captain?" Kaylee had asked, her heart beating in anticipation mixed with dread. What if somethin' went wrong? What if River messed up, or she picked a good person only to have that person get all seduced by the money? Kaylee truly believed in the goodness of everyone, but to risk River like that... it terrified her.

"Now, now, mei mei. Thought you said you trusted River with anything." He took her by the shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "And if you want to keep Serenity in the sky, we better be able to trust her. I'd like a bit of extra padding just in case. Try to find a passenger, and the emphasis is on try, mind you. Book and Inara are here if you need some extra eyes." He'd squeezed her shoulders, then collected everyone to get the cargo.

That had been three hours ago. Three hours of sitting outside Serenity, watching people walk by their ship, and not one person had been right for them. . A few had even approached the ship, only to be shooed away by River's glare. And she could glare mean for such a little waif. And the things she said to them... down right creepy, even if you did know she could read minds.

It wasn't that Kaylee was getting bored or nothing. It wasn't every day that she and River got to bask in the sun with nothing pressing to do. Even if they weren't finding any passengers, the weight of River's head in her lap was comforting, and the silky strands of River's hair between Kaylee's fingers felt lovely. Kaylee felt like she could just burst from happiness, curled up as they were, and a part of her hoped that the captain stayed away just a little longer so she could enjoy this.

"Her." River broke the contented silence between them suddenly, shooting up like she'd been pinched. Her eyes had been closed just a moment before, but now they were open and focused. "That's our passenger." She pointed at a small, red-haired girl who was slowly making her way through the crowds of the Eavesdown Docks.

Kaylee's breath sort of caught in her throat. For a moment, an unfamiliar wave of jealousy washed through her and she wondered if River had pointed out the girl because she was so pretty. It wasn't a fair thought. River liked beauty, just like Kaylee. Only, River was young and all and Kaylee was her first girlfriend. First relationship ever, actually, and first relationships didn't always work out.

The moment passed, however, and Kaylee shook her head, embarrassed at her thoughts. River was just bein' River. They both looked at other girls, together, when they had a chance. Just because River had seen this girl first and wanted her for a passenger didn't mean nothing. There was no reason to worry.

"Her?" Kaylee repeated, urging River off her lap.

"Yes." River was very certain, very sure. Her eyes never left the girl, and she had a look of intense concentration on her face.

"All right." Kaylee stood and sort of brushed dirt off her coveralls. "Hey," she called gaily, walking down the ramp.

The girl glanced over her shoulder at the greeting, and stopped when she realized that Kaylee was talking to her.

Wow. She really was beautiful, like the way Simon was, all creamy smooth skin and startling intelligent eyes. And when she took a few steps towards Serenity, she seemed to float, like River. Something about her screamed Core-breeding, but when she spoke, her voice had a soft lilt that sounded like home to Kaylee.

"Hey," the girl replied. Her eyes scanned the ship and her lips curved into a smile.

"My name's Kaylee and this is River," Kaylee said. She frowned slightly at the bruises and blood on the girl's face. The girl had been used rough, no doubt about it, but she seemed unafraid of her surroundings even though the docks could be dangerous. "And, uh, this here is Serenity, available for passage is you need," she finished. The girl needed to get away, that much was clear, but Kaylee knew that sometimes them that needed to leave the most fought the hardest to stay.

This girl didn't protest, though. She just looked over the ship again and asked, "Where you headed?"

"It doesn't matter," River said. "You don't care. You need to get away."

The girl arched an eyebrow and looked appraisingly at River. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Her eyes traveled over River's body, then seemed to lock on her eyes. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she said, "I'm Camille." Her smile seemed to falter a moment, a look of pain crossing over her face. She hugged her arms tightly around her waist.

"Nice to meet you, Camille." Kaylee stuck out her hand.

Camille wiped the palm of her right hand on her pants before shaking Kaylee's. It was ice cold and damp.

"You ever fly in a Firefly before?" Kaylee asked.

"No, but I've always wanted to. I've got some friends who are pilots, and they tell me you never have a sweeter ride. You the captain?"

"Nah, I'm the engineer. Captain is Malcolm Reynolds, and a better captain you'll never find."

"That's reassuring to hear. So, who are you? The pilot?" Camille smiled at River, and Kaylee had to stop herself from putting a protective arm around her. The smile that was directed at her girlfriend was just a little too flirtatious for her liking.

River smiled back and shook her head. "I'm not. My brother is the doctor. I travel with him."

"And a right help he is, too," Kaylee said. "Seems like we're always getting busted up somehow, and Simon's a genius at what he does. He used to be a surgeon in the Core before he came out here."

"Do I hear my praises being sung?" Simon said, emerging from the port crowd swirling around Serenity's gangplank. He'd gone out with the rest, only instead of picking up cargo, he'd gone to pick up medical supplies and food.

Kaylee grinned at him. "We have a new passenger, Simon. I mean, I think."

Camille nodded and smiled at Simon. "Hi, Doctor. I'm Camille."

Camille smiled as Simon stopped next to her. "It's very nice to meet you ," he said, shifting the bags so he could shake her hand. A frown appeared on his face once her hand was tucked inside his. His eyes swept over her body. "Are you..."

"Everyone back, little Kaylee?" Mal asked as the mule broke through the crowd.

"Yes, Captain. We're just waitin' on you."

He nodded, and jumped of when he saw Camille. "Good. We're shipping out as soon as we're loaded. Jayne, Zoe, get the cargo stowed. Wash.."

"I'll go start her up," Wash replied as he pulled the mule to a stop.

Both Jayne and Zoe glanced at the unfamiliar person as they climbed off the mule. Zoe nodded at her, implacable as always, and started unloading the cargo. Jayne stopped to leer openly; he looked about to say something when River fixed him with an evil stare that made him blanch and back off immediately.

"This a passenger?" Mal asked, ignoring the interchange between Jayne and River. He hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and nodded at Camille.

"Yes it is. Camille," Kaylee said. She put her hand on Camille's back. "This is Captain Reynolds."

Camille held out her hand. "Captain."

"Got a last name?"

"Bowling."

"Can you pay?"

"How much you charging?"

"Fifty credits'll get you Beaumonde with a quick stop-over at Dyton Colony for us to drop off our cargo. Should take about four weeks, if that's okay."

"That's fine. I'm in no hurry. In fact, I ain't got a particular destination in mind. What happens if we get to Beaumonde and I decide I want to keep going?" She smiled at his puzzled expression and shrugged. "I've been feeling wanderlust lately. All I want is to do is hit the sky and keep on goin'."

Mal frowned and studied her. His eyes scanned her face; as he studied her, Camille wrapped her arms tighter around her stomach and hunched her shoulders.

Kaylee stepped closer to Camille, feeling suddenly protective. The girl had seemed confident before, but that confidence had melted away and left this small, frail, bruised girl in her place. Probably was a man who'd used her so bad, and while Kaylee knew her captain was the best man in the 'verse, he was awful big, especially when compared to Camille. He could be real intimidating.

"Well," Mal said slowly, shaking his head.

"I'm willing to work, Captain," Camille said. "Even if I'm paying passage, I feel skittish if I'm not doing something useful."

Fastest way to Mal's heart was to offer a hand. Next to Alliance and slavers, he hated useless people. Kaylee knew that Camille had gotten passage for as long as she needed, so long as she kept her word and worked, of course.

"All right," Mal said with a nod. He grabbed the handle of her bag and shoved it toward Kaylee and River for them to carry. "Welcome aboard, Miss Bowling." Then he turned to head up the gangplank.

"Thanks," she called at his retreating back. Then she turned back to Simon. "No painkillers."

"What?" Simon said, startled.

"No painkillers," she repeated urgently. Camille swayed on her feet and dropped her left hand which, until now, had been pressed into her side.

"Oh my God!" Kaylee exclaimed, hands flying to her mouth.

Camille's shirt was soaked through with blood, her hand dripping wet with it.

"No hydrozopam, ibuprofen, acetaminophen, aspirin, diacetylmorphine, morphine, *nothing*," she gasped. "Got it?"

Simon dropped the bags he'd been holding, and he pulled her shirt up. Underneath was a blood-soaked bandage, crimson with more blood than Kaylee thought possible to be in anyone still standing. "You need stitches," Simon said, pulling the bandage so he could see the wound. "I have to..."

"You'll kill me," Camille said flatly. She pitched violently and was caught by River. "Please, trust me."

"Trust her, Simon," River said. She had one arm around Camille, their heads pressed together.

"Very well," he said, obviously unhappy. He sounded like he did every time Mal popped a stitch or when Jayne went through his supplies. "No painkillers. I promise."

Camille smiled wanly. "Thank you." Then she blacked out.

* * *

"Oh my God!"

Mal whirled around at Kaylee's exclamation, pistol in hand, ready to shoot whoever it were that was attacking.

There was no one attacking, though just the new passenger swayin' on her feet, shirt soaked through with blood, face dead white.

"Gan ni niang," he swore, running back down the gangplank. He made it just as the girl's eyes rolled back into her head and her legs gave out.

River caught her, keeping her from falling. She was taller than the girl, but they both looked to weigh about the same, and River stumbled a bit as the deadweight hit her.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, scooping the girl into his arms. Her head fell limply against his chest, and her arms hung "She was fine a second ago."

"She's injured," Simon said, grabbing the girl's wrist. He tugged back to the ship, the doctor mask sliding over his face. "Bleeding heavily; she looks like she was stabbed. I knew she was in shock, but until she showed me her wound, I didn't know why."

"And you didn't think to say anything?" This was damn inconvenient, her getting all hurt and passin' out. If he were smart, he'd dump her back outside and just take off.

"Don't even think about it," River said in that creepfyin' voice of hers.

Mal turned his head and found her keepin' pace beside him, eyes cold and flinty. "I weren't really gonna," he replied defensively.

"Put her down," Simon said once inside the infirmary. Trusting Mal to follow his orders, he moved to the sink, rolling up his sleeves.

Gently, Mal set the girl on the bed. Gazing down at her for a moment, he reached out his hand and brushed her bangs off her forehead. Shock or not, shivering or whatever, she was sweating like she was made of water. Mal had her blood on his hands. It streaked over her sweaty flesh, red on white, like something out of a story his mama used to tell him.

"Captain?" Zoe stuck her head into the infirmary. "She all right?"

"She will be," Simon answered. He had gloves on now and was unbuttoning the soaked flannel the girl was wearing. "We can still take off, if Wash was wondering." He looked up at Mal almost challengingly.

"I ain't just gonna dump an injured girl out on the Docks, Simon," Mal protested, anger rising. What kind of monster did they think he was? He glanced at Zoe. "Take off when ready. We need to get this cargo to Dyton Colony."

She nodded and disappeared.

"I'll wait until we're in the air before I start to sew," Simon said as he set his instruments by the bed. "Can you help me get the shirt off?"

Mal nodded and finished unbuttoning her shirt. Underneath was a bloody bandage that looked as if it, too, had once been a shirt. Besides the wounds causing her to bleed, there were bruises coloring her stomach an ugly purple.

"Woe de tian ah," Mal breathed. "What do you think happened to her?"

"Any number of things," Simon replied dourly. "My best guess is a good, sound beating followed by a couple knife wounds."

"Yeah," Mal agreed, grasping the edge of the table as his ship lurched. "That's what I'd guess too." Serenity rocked a few times as Wash got her into the air and into a clear path before leveling off.

The intercom beeped. "Simon?" Wash's voice said. "We're all clear now. I understand that you've got a surgery to do?"

"I do."

"I'll hold her steady for you."

"Thanks you, Wash." Simon picked up his scissors and started to cut the bandage away. He'd barely begun when the girl's eyes suddenly flew open.

She was a fast one, no doubt about it. The girl was almost off the bed before Mal realized she'd moved.

"Whoa, there," he exclaimed, catching her by the shoulders as she leapt off the bed. "Calm down. You're safe. You're on my ship and we ain't gonna hurt you."

She groaned as her head fell heavily against his chest. "Safe." She rubbed her eyes. "Safe. Serenity."

"Right. Serenity."

Slowly, like there were weights attached to her hair, she raised his head. There was a crooked sort of half-smile on her lips as she said, "You know, I sort of hoped I'd still be unconscious for this."

"As did I," Simon said. He gently pulled her away from Mal and helped her lay back down. "Are you sure I can't give you something for the pain? Not even a local?" he asked as he slipped some kinda monitor on her index finger.

Camille laughed breathlessly, pain written across her face. "Local won't do no good; makes my skin feel like it's on fire. Just give me a minute."

"What?"

Mal didn't think he'd ever heard Simon sound so startled, and, truth to tell, he didn't exactly blame the boy. Blood was pooled on Camille's torso and every second that passed, more was added to the mess. She looked dead she was so pale, but she was asking for a minute? In another minute, Simon might be doing an autopsy instead of a surgery.

River, who'd been lingering in the doorway, walked in to stand by Mal. Her eyes were wide and she seemed more quiet and still than usual.

As if sensing her, Camille opened her eyes. Her lips curled very slightly before her eyes fell shut once again. A wrinkle appeared between her eyes and her breathing slowed. She seemed to sink into herself, her chest rising and falling evenly. After about a minute, her face went slack, all pain and tension melting away from it.

River moved from Mal's side to the head of the bed. Closing her eyes, she placed her hand on Camille's forehead. "She's ready," River said in a distant, quiet voice. It seemed to Mal that her breathing matched Camille's, and the blank expression on her face was the same as the girl on the table's. It was creepy but, then, much of what River did and said was creepy.

Simon took off the blood red gloves he was wearing, exchanging them for a new pair. As he picked up the scissors again, he said, "Mei mei, perhaps you should wait outside." He began to cut off the bandage again.

River bent over and pressed her forehead briefly against Camille's. She shook her head, and mouthed "No," without making a sound.

Mal met Simon's eyes and shrugged.

"Very well," Simon said distractedly. A mask of clinical detachment slammed over his face as he studied at his patient.

Mal envied the detachment. It wasn't that he were soft or nothing, or the sight of blood made him sick. He was a solider. He'd survived battle after battle before livin' through Serenity Valley, and you didn't get through an experience like that without developing a tolerance for this kind of stuff.

But, at the same time, there was a difference between seeing a solider injured in the line of duty, and an unarmed civilian beaten bloody by someone obviously bigger and stronger than they were. This girl wasn't a solider. She weren't trained to defend herself, and someone had used her like a fighting dummy and that just weren't right.

"All right," Simon said as the wounds were revealed. He prodded them gently with one hand, the other discarding the bloody fabric. "Good."

"Good?" Looked like most of her blood was on the outside and that weren't never good in Mal's experience.

"The cuts are clean," Simon clarified, prodding them gently. Fresh blood welled out, coating his gloves.

Mal winced, not so much at the sight as at the smell. It hung heavily in the sterile air of the infirmary, making his head spin. He hated the smell of blood; he smelled it way to often in his life.

"Her stomach hasn't been punctured," Simon added, muttering. "There's some muscle damage, but it's not too bad." He turned and prepare a needle. "I should be able to sew her up without too much complication. I just don't like doing this without anesthetic." Simon turned, a pensive look on his face. "Captain, I'd appreciate if you'd stay." He met Mal's eyes.

"Me?" he repeated, alarmed. "I ain't much good with surgery, Doc, you know that. I can dope 'em, I can tie 'em up, but I can't do much else."

"You can hold her down. There's nothing in her to either dull the pain or put her to sleep. Her request was no pain killers, and , at this point, she's lost so much blood, I'm afraid a sedative might send her into a coma. I need you to hold her should the pain get to be too much."

Jayne would be better, Mal wanted to say. He had the stronger, brute strength. Or Zoe; she was a woman, and a hurt girl might feel better being held down by a woman. "Can't you use restraints?"

Simon shook his head. "I need whatever holds her down to be able to move easily and quickly. You can; I'd have to keep readjusting the restrains on the bed. And, besides, they wouldn't stop her torso from jerking. Mal, there's no time to argue."

"Right." She was bleeding to death, remember Mal? Why not talk about this a little more, get all her money instead of just what she owes for passage.

Tentatively, he put his hands on Camille's shoulders and pressed down. As he'd been when carryin' her before, Mal was surprised such a slight-lookin' little thing had such well-defined muscles in her shoulders and arms. The girl had power beneath her skin, no doubt about it.

Simon started sewing. Mal could feel the tremors in Camille as the needle sunk into her lacerated flesh, but except for some tightening in her shoulders and one, sharp intake of breath, she didn't react. It was like she was asleep. Or dead.

He shifted his weight and swallowed, thinkin' about that. But Simon wouldn't let her die; he was good at his job, and he weren't going to fail now.

River stayed where she was, her hands framing Camille's face. Mal took to watching her, wondering. The girl was strange, that was no question, but she'd gotten a lot better since she and Kaylee had started keeping house together, so to speak. River was coherent now--mostly--and she interacted with everyone almost like she was normal, except, of course, when she didn't.

He wondered why River was obsessed with this passenger. Was it just that the girl was hurt? Was it because she was a new face? Or was it sexual attraction?

If it was the last, Kaylee was in for a world of heartbreak, and the crew was in for a rough time. Everyone loved Kaylee. River, too. And even though there'd been problems when it became obvious that the girls were more than just friends--Jayne had been nothing but crude, Inara had been a strangely withdrawn, and Simon had walked around in a state of shock for weeks--they were both sweet and loveable and everyone liked seeing them happy together.

If they stopped being together because this passenger.... Mal was afraid the sunshine in Kaylee would dim. If that happened, fugitive or no, River was gone. He'd choose Kaylee over the Tams any day, especially if a Tam chose a stranger over crew.

It was a mistake for crew to get involved, that was for sure. He really shoulda cracked down on everyone to keep it from happening. Wash and Zoe were enough of a nuisance; now River and Kaylee'd followed their example, or at least close enough. Once they'd taken up together, Simon had started his major push for him and Mal to take a similar path. Mal had refused; standards needed to be maintained, gorramit. Besides, River and Kaylee might be happy now, but the day they split up was be an awful one.

Mal was startled from his thoughts by a sudden, loud beeping. The monitor above Camille's head was flashing wildly, numbers and squiggly lines jerking all over the place. His heart rate spiked as he watched them, trying to make sense. He was no doctor, but he did know that it was rarely a good sign when somethin' started beeping like that during surgery.

River gasped and let go of Camille's face. Her eyes were wide and panicked, and she brought her hands up to her mouth, biting back what sounded like a moan. "Hurts," she whispered. Then, louder, "*Hurts*."

"What's goin' on?" Mal asked, stepping back and letting Camille go.

Simon was very calm and controlled. He was fascinating to watch in the infirmary, all the insecurity and awkwardness he had in real life gone and replaced by this confident and cool professional. The startling change in the boy was one reason Mal enjoyed having him aboard; it was interesting to see how one person could contain so many different faces underneath the same skin.

"Her blood pressure's dropped," Simon said, setting down the needle. He grabbed a computerized pad and a cotton swab from the counter. Carefully, he swiped the swab through the blood pooling on the girl's stomach, then smeared it on the pad. After a few seconds, the computer beeped; Simon nodded and crossed the room to the cooling unit, from which he removed a bag of plasma. "She's lost too much blood; I need to get her stabilized."

"Will she be okay?" Mal asked.

"She should be," Simon replied as he opened a drawer and pulled out some tubing and another needle.

"Pain," River was whispering, hands on her own head. "Cut. Bleed. Stand and watch, good soldiers fight on, don't die, don't drop. So small, so tired, have to keep going, don't stop or they hurt you. *Hurt* and it's not the end, when you get to the finish line, they just hook you up and hurt some more. Cut into skin, screams get you hit, don't make a sound, don't make a sound, good soldiers don't make a sound." She stopped talking, a low keening sound replacing the words. Trembling, River crouched on the floor, covering her ears and rocking back and forth.

"Kaylee!" Simon called as he hooked Camille up to the IV.

Mal heard feet pounding on the metal deck, and then Kaylee appeared, face smudged with grease. "Something wrong? I... River!" She started crossing the room to her, but Simon's voice stopped her.

"Can you give her some medicine, please?"

Kaylee nodded and went to the cupboard, removing the prepared hypodermic needle. Everyone on the crew had been trained to administer the medication, just in case there was an emergency and Simon wasn't there. They could all recognize the signs, too, although, usually, River was good at knowing when she was close to the edge.

"So much pain," River moaned as Kaylee injected her.

"It's okay, sweetie," Kaylee said, kissing her on the cheek. "Simon's going to take care of her. Everything will be fine." Kaylee helped River to her feet, arm tight around her waist.

River shook in Kaylee's arms, her tear filled eyes on Camille. Still babbling about pain and bleeding and good soldiers, she let herself be led from the room.

"What was that about?"

"It's River," Simon said, concerned about his sister but focused on his patient. "When she gets like that, I don't know what's going on in her mind. Are you thinking about war or battles?"

"A bit, yeah."

"Maybe she was getting it from you." He adjusted the tube running to her arm, then pressed a button on the computer. "There." Blood started flowing into Camille even as it continued to seep out of her wound.

Mal shook his head. "I'm beginning to regret we took this girl on," he said. Blood wasn't exactly cheap. It wasn't that he thought it was wasted, because the girl obviously needed help, but what if the job went bad and they needed more blood for his crew?

"Don't worry, Captain," Simon said with that dry tone in his voice. "She's the same blood type as I am. I'll refill the pint myself when I'm sure she's okay. The rest of the crew will just have to try not to get themselves injured for an hour or two after." His eyes were twinkling when he glanced up at Mal.

"We'll do our best, but I make no promises," he responded.

Simon just snorted and picked up the needle again.

With a sigh, Mal leaned back over Camille and placed his hands on her shoulders. She was still white and still on the table. With the blood loss, she had probably blacked out.

Then, unexpectedly, her eyelashes fluttered. "Doc!" Mal started, but Simon was already sinking the needle into her skin.

Camille gasped, eyes flying open. Her face twisted in sudden agony and a low groan was wrung from her throat. And, all of a sudden, Mal was straining against her, trying to keep her down, all the while saying soothing words, like "calm down" and "you're safe" and "it's gonna be okay," even though he knew that safety wasn't the problem here.

"Hang on, Camille," Simon said, not stopping. "I've only got a few more."

She nodded, eyes dazed and wild. "Okay," she gasped. Sweat rolled down her face; Mal wanted to wipe it away, but he was too afraid that if he let go, she'd sit up and hurt herself more.

"Breathe deep," Mal said, not knowing what else to say. It always seemed, though, that whenever he was hurting worst, people were always telling him to breath.

Camille smiled and gave a breathless laugh before taking his advice. She reached up and grabbed his biceps, squeezing as she breathed. The girl was strong, Mal'd give her that. She was being sewed up with no drugs, and she was squeezing the hell out of his arm.

"Bet you're regrettin' turning down the drugs, ain't you?" he said.

"Not really," she gritted out. Her back arched suddenly, eyes flying wide.

"Hold her," Simon snapped.

Mal dropped his elbow across her solar plexus, holding her down. His arm pressed against her breasts, tugging at the thin bra she was wearing. "Sorry," he said, glancing down.

"Just don't try to take advantage," she said, half-smiling up at him. "I'm not that kind of girl."

He smiled down at her, heartened by the fact she could still joke, even now. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good." Her hand slid up his arm until it was behind his neck. Still digging into his skin with her nails, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Her breathing grew regular again, although she made little gasping moans every few minutes. Simon had finished up with the first cut and moved to the second. It was smaller, but no less painful. It seemed like the stitching went on for eternity, but finally, *finally* Simon said, "Done. You can let her go."

Mal unclenched his fingers from her shoulders and stepped back. He was embarrassed to see faint bruises forming where he'd held her. Either she had really thin skin, or he'd been holding a bit too hard.

"It's because of the blood loss," Simon said, as if reading his mind. He picked up the scissors again. "And she looks like she bruises easy to begin with. Don't worry about it. Camille, are you still with us?"

Camille's eyes opened. "Yeah," she said, voice heavy and drowsy. "I'm still here."

Simon smiled at her and cut the straps off her bra carefully. "How do you feel?"

"Awful." She winced as he carefully pulled her bra strap off, baring her breasts and revealing yet more bruises and a few scrapes. "How many stitches?"

"Ten on the cut across your stomach, seven on your side. How did you get them?"

Mal flushed as Camille met his eyes. He'd been staring at her breasts--the only part of her torso not completely purple. Quickly, he averted his eyes, cursing himself for being such a sha zi. It weren't like he'd never seen breasts before, and it weren't like she was displaying them for show, neither. She was hurt and her doctor was taking care of her.

"Fight," Camille said. "Well. A fight on his side; I just took it from him. My boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend."

"Boyfriend or master?" Mal asked, embarrassment making him blunt.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not a slave."

He looked back at her. "It's all right if you are. I don't hold with slavery and have no problem helping one out and getting 'em set in a better life. But I want to be told up front what I'm getting into. It's better all around, ain't it, Doc?"

Simon shot him a look, but simply answered, "Of course, Captain. Besides, if you are a slave, you probably have a tracking implant that needs to be removed. I can take it out, but don't want to risk it until you've recovered."

"I am *not* a slave," she said again, voice icy cold.

"I'm glad to hear it," Mal told her. "Anyone comin' after you? Boyfriend, boss? Boyfriend's guards or whatever?"

"No. No one's coming after me. I won the fight." She said it with a sense of finality, her face stone.

Dead then. "How can I be sure the Alliance won't be on our tail now? You killed a man. They don't look kindly on that sort of thing."

She snorted. "The Alliance only cares when one of them gets killed. My boyfriend weren't exactly what you'd call high class. More like, someone that they wouldn't mind getting rid of." Her eyes fell shut and she went still once more.

"What's with the pain killers?" Mal asked. "Why didn't you want 'em?"

"Have a bad reaction to them," she said softly. Sleepily. "Either puts me to sleep so I can't wake up for days, or sends my heart into overdrive. A doctor... taught me... pain management. Hypnosis-like. To get through pain. I..." Her voice trailed off and face went slack.

"I think that's all you'll get from her right now," Simon said adjusting the IV. "She'll be out for a few hours."

"Call me when she wakes up."

"Promise you won't interrogate her to death," Simon said. Mal forgot how protective he could be over his patients when the crew managed to stay healthy for a stretch. "She's just been through a traumatizing experience. I know how important it is to keep the Alliance off our tails better than anyone, but look at her. Does she really look like a threat to them?"

"Did Saffron look like a criminal mastermind? Does your sister look like assassin material?" Mal retorted.

Simon paled. "We don't know that's what they were doing to her."

"No, we don't. But, fact is, she looks sweet, but she's been a danger to us before. Maybe this girl ain't all she seems, neither."

"Or maybe she's exactly what she seems. How many girls in the galaxy are trained assassins and how many are being abused by their boyfriends?"

Mal frowned and looked at the sleeping girl on the bed. "Maybe there's a part of me that don't want her to be what she seems," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I ain't a nice man by no means, but I don't go out of my way to hurt them that can't defend themselves. And I don't understand why people'd want to hurt the ones they're supposed to love. That don't make no sense to me."

"Humans rarely make sense," Simon said. "And almost nothing is ever fair."

"Yeah," Mal said, shaking his head. "You got that right, Doc." He looked up at Simon. "Call me when she wakes. I'm going to check on the cargo." Turning from the bed, he left without another glance behind him.

Gan ni niang= motherfucker
Woe de tian ah= dear god in heaven
sha zi= foo

* * *

Camille opened her eyes slowly. She was hot, too hot. Her side felt like it was on fire, and her eyes felt gummy. There was a layer of sweat over her that made her feel sticky and disgusting, and her head ached fiercely.

"Are you awake?" a voice asked softly.

She turned her head. The doctor was next to the bed, removing an IV needle from her arm. He detached the IV tube from an empty bag and placed the bag aside.

"Yeah," she rasped.

"How do you feel?"

Instead of answering, she closed her eyes and turned her head away. She wanted to die. She felt like gou shi and wanted it to be all over.

His hand was cool on her forehead, and he gently turned her head back to him. "I'd like you to drink some water, if you can. You've been asleep for quite some time."

She licked her dry lips and nodded.

The doctor stepped away for a moment. When he returned with a glass of water, he lifted the head of the bed, then brought the glass to her lips.

Water slid down Camille's throat. It was cold, and filled her mouth, washing away the dryness and making her feel slightly more human again. She took the glass from Simon and tilted her head back, wincing as a heavy, heady feeling made her entire body tip backwards.

"Careful," he warned. He cupped her head in his hand, supporting her. "Better?"

"Yeah." She licked a few precious drops from her lips. "A little. My head hurts. And my side. Did I mention my head?"

A faint smile appeared on the doctor's face. "Yes, you did." He pressed his fingers into her temples and massaged gently. "Do you think you can drink or eat, or should I give you an IV?"

She licked her dry lips. "I can eat."

"I'll be right back, then."

The doctor--Simon, that was his name--Simon's footsteps echo softly on the metal floor, growing softer as he got further away.

Camille rolled onto her uninjured side carefully, trying to get comfortable. She was hot, feverish, and every inch of her body was deeply painful. It was so tempting to fuck it and just asked the doctor for pain medication. At worst, it'd kill her; at best, it'd put her into a coma and let her sleep through the worst of the pain.

Groaning, she rolled onto her back again and kicked the blankets off her, panting.

"Are you all right?" a new voice asked.

She opened her eyes to find a strange man dressed as a shepherd standing over her. He was holding his Bible open, his hair was back in a neat queue, and his eyes were warm and welcoming.

"What are you doing here?' she asked hoarsely.

He frowned like he didn't quite understand her question Who are you was probably a more expected question, but she really didn't care who she was. The what was more important.

"My name is Book. I'm a shepherd, and I travel with the ship."

Not what she'd asked.

"But what..." She cleared her throat.

"I thought... Well, I make it a habit to visit those who wind up in here. The doctor assures me you'll live, but I thought..."

"Are you praying over me?"

"Yes, I am." He seemed pleased with himself, and he smiled at her. "I make it a habit of at least visiting anyone who winds up in here. And I've often found that..."

"Don't."

"I'm sorry?"

Camille squeezed her eyes shut, mind filled with images of people she'd never seen and things she'd never done. They were sins that needed repenting, and the guilt pressed inside her, filling her, swelling inside her stomach, her heart, behind her eyes and...

"Don't," she gasped again. "I won't be used as the path to your redemption."

"I..."

"Please, just go."

"Very well."

Camille felt a pang of regret as she heard him leave. She shouldn't have been so harsh. He wasn't a bad man, not really, he just...

She was just so tired and in so much pain. Besides. There was no God, anyway.

* * *
Beep.

Camille moaned softly and rolled onto her side.

Beep.

She was so tired. Did she really have to get up? She didn't even remember setting an alarm, so there couldn't be anything important for her to get to. Couldn't she sleep just a little bit longer?

Beep.

Wait. Wasn't she on some ship? Serenity or something? She shouldn't have an alarm to wake up to.

Beep.

She opened her eyes. Her body was one big ache and her side felt like it was on fire. God, she hated getting stabbed. Hated anything that caused serious injury like this. If she were normal...

But the Alliance took care of that, didn't they?

Beep.

"Gorramit," she swore, realizing what was wrong. Carefully, she sat up and took stock. She was still hooked up to the monitor above her head, but the IV was gone. She vaguely remembered waking up earlier. The shepherd had been there; she'd been rude to him. Her fault, but his mind had overwhelmed her in her pain and she'd spoken without thinking. Then, the doctor had given her some kind of sugar water stuff instead of food. He'd also asked her to tell him what happened to her.

The latter part had been difficult to do since she'd had to remember her cover story instead of the actual event. And since the captain had basically come up with the story himself, it'd been even harder to remember exactly what she'd agreed to being. Still, she had a lot of practice with this sort of thing, and Simon was as easy to lead as anyone else she'd ever met. A few well timed pauses and hesitations, and Simon had helped her explain that she'd killed her boyfriend while he'd been beating her, and run away, wanting to get off planet.

Not a bad identity. Not one Camille would ever have chosen for herself, since she hated being a victim, but it was simple, straight forward, and pretty easy to remember.

Beep.

With a groan, she clambered off the cot and looked around the room. The ship was dark, and the infirmary was empty. The monitor had changed to reflect her conscious status, and she wondered if Simon would be coming to check on her. If so, she needed to act fast; she had a feeling he'd object or at least question what she had to do.

Her bags were under the bed, thank God. And they looked undisturbed. Not that there was anything incriminating in there; if they had found any of her weapons, she'd be able to explain they'd belonged to her boyfriend. As for the wigs and clothes.... she hadn't told them her profession. There'd been enough bars full of exotic dancers on Persephone for her to pass herself off as one if it came to that. Fit with the persona, too. Go to a bar, strip for the customers, then go home to the boyfriend to get beat on a bit. Besides, if anyone wanted a demonstration, well, that's where some of her training would come in.

Beep.

At the bottom of her rucksack was a thick, leather bound book. She opened it to the back and pressed against the back inside cover.

Beep. Beep.

"All right," she hissed, pressing her hand to the back of her neck. "I get it. Hang on." Of course, the beeping didn't care, and it wasn't going to stop until she did what she had to. But, since she was awake and taking care of it, the ringing in her head was annoying.

The back cover of the book swung open, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside were one hundred twenty tiny vials filled with a yellowish liquid. She removed one, closed the compartment, and turned to the front of the book. Opening that compartment revealed a hypodermic needle. She plunged the needle into the stopper of the vial and filled the chamber.

Beep, beep, beep.

"Gou shi!" Camille exclaimed, exasperated. Her heart was pounding, and the veins in her temples was throbbing. She wondered how long her monitor had been beeping before she'd awaken, and she wondered if Garrison had already sent a ship out to get her. Three beeps wasn't good.

Camille bent her head forward. With her left hand, she felt along the base of her skull, pressing into the hard metal that was lodged into her occipital bone. In the center, underneath her hair, was a small depression, just big enough for a needle. Taking a deep breath as her chin-length hair brushed over her cheeks, sticking against her sweaty skin and lips, she raised the needle and, after a moment of blind fumbling, slipped it inside the hole.

It didn't hurt. It was designed not to hurt. And, if she were telling the truth, she really couldn't feel it. But, she could. Camille swore she could feel the needle sliding inside her bone, brushing against skin and hair and nerves.

Beep, beep, beep.

The echo reverberated inside her skull, shaking her. With another deep breath, she pressed down the plunger of the hypo, injecting the medicine into her monitor. Then, she slid it back out, feeling nauseated.

She hated this. Hated the monitor, hated the medication, hated the fucking beeping. But, she needed all of it. It worked. It had worked for three years now. The monitor and medication kept her on an even keel, kept her abilities under control, and kept the damage the Alliance had done to her mind and body from stopping her from living.

That didn't mean she couldn't resent it, though, at least for what it represented.

She put the needle away and closed the compartment on the book; then, she leaned back against the cot, closing her eyes. Her monitor was still beeping, three beeps every few seconds. A three beep alarm meant the chemicals in her blood were nearly depleted and, sometimes, one dose of medication wasn't enough. She'd wait another minute before doing it again; better too much than not...

Beep. Beep. Beeeeeep.

There.

She relaxed. Crisis averted. Her body chemistry was normalizing, which meant that Camille wouldn't have to go back to base. Base was nothing but a bunch of classes to hone her abilities in everything from martial arts, ballet, academics, and even seduction. Classes were interspersed with the occasional "mission", which was just a stupid task assigned to a person or group so their programming didn't kick in and drive them insane. Base wasn't bad, especially since everyone there was just like her, so she didn't have to hide, but it was just... boring. Regimented. The schedule was so strict and so regular, she could practically sleep through the whole day and no one would notice.

The rest of the 'verse, though, that was the battle ground. That's where the theoretical became real. Camille traveled to planets both in the Core and the Rim. She took on a variety of personas suitable for the jobs Garrison assigned her. She wasn't paid exactly, although she never wanted for money. But money wasn't the reason she killed, stole, smuggled, and saved for Garrison. She did it because he'd saved her from the Alliance and changed her from a confused experiment to a balanced human being.

And, she did it because she loved him.

Not that that mattered anymore. Almost a year ago, Garrison had made it clear that their physical relationship was over. Just like that, no warning, and that made the idea of staying at base intolerable. Part of the joy of being at base was sex. And Garrison had taught her everything she knew about enjoying sex. And she'd enjoyed it with him more than anyone else. But then, one day, he'd just said, "I'm not comfortable with it, Camille. Go sleep with someone your age."

So, she had. A lot of other people. Camille had slept through half the base before she realized he wasn't going to relent. And that's when she left for good.

It wasn't fair. Not fair at all. Garrison wasn't even sleeping with anyone else anymore, not like he used to. The rumors were that she was the last recruit that he'd been with. He had also continued sleeping with much longer than he had with anyone else, well after she'd gained control over her libido.

She loved him. Garrison was her savior, her boss, and her lover. Or had been, at least. Not anymore.

That was why she preferred to be out in the galaxy. She traveled, did jobs the rob-from-the-rich jobs Garrison liked doing, met new people, saw new places. As long as she kept her medication and blood chemistry at a steady level, she could continue to travel and, for the next four weeks, she would be able to get to know the rather interesting crew she found herself among.

Serenity. Midbulk transport, standard radion-accelerator core, class code 03-K64, Firefly class. Captained by Malcolm Reynolds who, for some reason, desperately wanted her to be the victim of abuse at the hands of a man who didn't deserve her. That was a little disturbing, especially since she'd become exactly what he'd wanted. Camille the Chameleon, as Prophet had named her; whenever she was in a pinch, she picked up cues from those around her and became what they thought she was.

If she'd known that this was the direction her persona would go, she would have given Kaylee another name. It was insulting to imagine that she, as Camille, would ever put up with anyone laying a hand on her. She should have said she was a Mary or Sarah or something ordinary and plain. Someone meek and quiet, who would let a man tell her what to do and beat her up when he was angry. And someone with mousy brown hair, instead of red. And long. Braids, maybe.

Camille touched her hair with a wry smile. Ah, well. This was a break between jobs; how was she to know that she'd fall flat on her face before they'd even left? It certainly hadn't been in the plan; after all, it had been an easy job.

She snorted.

Malcolm Reynolds wasn't going to be a problem, though, not really. She'd understood that it wasn't that he liked to perpetrate violence against innocents, but he'd been hoping that she wasn't going to bring any trouble--Alliance or otherwise--on his ship. He had to have his share of trouble with them, too. He was a criminal, but a good man, nonetheless. And fiercely independent as well. If he hadn't fought with the Independents during the Unification war, then he must have wanted to. She couldn't see him supporting Unification at all.

As for the rest....

Kaylee was a ray of sunshine, pure and simple. She was as good as she appeared, as friendly and open-hearted. A little jealous, though, so Camille had to make sure not to lose her head around River. It was going to be hard, too. It'd been a long time since Camille had been around so powerful a psychic and one with so very little control.

She was amazing, though. River. She was out of Alliance hands and she was still in one piece. Still sane, too, pretty much. Camille remembered when Garrison had found Jaden. Jaden had been escaped on her own a bit after Camille had been liberated; after three years, Jaden still wasn't talking. She never left the base and was a continued danger to herself and anyone who went near her.

So, the fact that River had escaped the Alliance and was actually coherent was remarkable. She was obviously brilliant-- they all were--and there was just something about her. Beyond the fact that she was beautiful. Just like her brother.

Which brought Camille around to Simon, who was currently in bed having very confusing dreams involving loud, bawdy songs, a bar, and some kind of mud pit. She pulled away from the chaos of his mind as best she could, but she still hadn't regained enough control over her powers to go away fully. The confusing jumble of songs rang in her head as she thought about the beautiful doctor.

He was very young, younger than you'd normally expect a competent surgeon to be. Camille was surprised that he hadn't wound up in Alliance hands like his sister, but, then, she didn't exactly know how the whole thing worked when money was involved. And Simon was definitely money. He wasn't just Core. He was *rich* Core, or had been. He seemed so out of place on this ship, all pale and beautiful and graceful. And his hands... The best doctors had the hands of an artist; Simon's were that of a master.

She wondered how he and River had wound up on Serenity. She wondered why he wasn't taking River home, or to somewhere she could get real help. Okay, yes, she knew River couldn't go back to Alliance territory; they were all wanted--*needed* she was sure the Alliance would say--back at the horrible place they'd escaped. But there must be other places where River could get care. Like Garrison did for Camille and the rest.

River was different from her, though. Not like Camille and the kids from her school; River was like Prophet. Prophet, who'd been experimented on in solitude and secret, unlike Camille and most of the others. Prophet, who was an assassin, not a solider He was smarter than they were, more intuitive, and a lot more powerful. He knew things about people in a single glance that it took Camille minutes to get. From the look in River's eyes when they'd met, River was the same way. She'd known Camille in a glance, and Camille was still trying to unwrap River's mystery.

Her mind shifted. Suddenly she was in the desert, surrounded by dinosaurs. A beautiful black woman in a slinky dress stood on top of a cliff, looking down at her. There was a gun in one hand; the other she held out towards her, a welcoming smile on her face. Camille took a step towards her and....

Guns. Mudder's milk. Whores in stockings and nothing else. Blood. Knife. Someone named Vera, and...

Beauty. Culture. A room full of people, dressed in silks and satins, dancing in each others arms. She whirled around the room, professionally happy, perfectly charming, but... but... but standing in a corner was Mal, looking angry. Frustrated. And Kaylee, with River in her arms, kissing, and Camille watched them, knowing that she was forever in a box. Forever apart and denied her own feelings because as a Companion, she'd chosen her path. She'd chosen and she loved it and it was her calling, but...

In the infirmary, Camille sighed and tried to sink further into the beauty and silk of the Companion's mind. Despite the melancholy, she was so centered, so wonderful. Camille could stay in her mind forever, basking in the calmness. She wanted....

"Camille?"

Slowly, Camille opened her eyes. Simon was standing over here, feet bare, wearing loose pants and a baggy shirt. His hair was mussed and there were lines on his face where it'd been pressed into his sheets.

Idly, she wondered how hard it'd be to seduce him. He had such gentle hands, he'd probably be good in bed. And it'd been awhile since she'd been with someone gentle.

She dismissed the thought. Her side was still on fire and her blood felt like it was full of fizz. Besides; having sex with someone while her psychic powers were so open was incredibly intense. It wasn't something she liked to do with just anyone, not even beautiful Core-trained doctors.

"Hi, Doctor," she said tiredly. "Did I wake you?"

"It's part of the job. Don't worry about it." He crouched in front of her. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"I'm hungry. I thought I'd try to find the mess and see if I could get something to eat, but I got tired. Thought I'd rest a second."

Simon's lips twitched. "I see. Are you hurt?"

"Absolutely. I got stabbed, you know. Right here. Twice." She lifted her shirt slightly to show him the bandages. "I also got beat up pretty bad."

"Yes." Simon looked at her carefully, like he wasn't sure if she was being serious or not.

"Oh, you mean now."

He laughed. "Yes, now."

"I'm fine. I mean, I'm in pain, but that's expected."

"And there's nothing I can give you?"

She shook her head.

"All right," he sighed unhappily. "I'd like to look you over. Then I can get you something to eat."

Camille nodded and let Simon help her stand. Carefully, she climbed onto the bed, for the first time aware that she'd been dressed in an oversized button-up shirt and a pair of baggy shorts. The shorts were hers, but the shirt didn't belong to her, but it smelled nice and was comfortable and soft.

"Whose shirt am I wearing? I don't recognize it."

"It belongs to Mal. I didn't know if you could afford to get blood on any of the ones in your pack, and Mal had this one spare."

"I'll have to thank him later."

Simon nodded as he continued his examination of her. He took her pulse and blood pressure, listened to her heart, checked her pupils, and took her temperature. Finally, he pulled away and said, "You seem to be healing well. Stay here. I'll go get you some soup." He tugged her shirt down and pulled a blanket to her waist.

"Thanks." Camille laid bad and closed her eyes. She was wiped out from everything that had happened that day so far. She heard Simon leave, and pulled the blanket further over her. He was a good doctor; the captain was lucky to have him. She wondered if Mal knew that.

Just thinking about him was enough to draw Camille's mind to Mal's. The captain intrigued her. For someone who so obviously wanted to keep a low profile, he was generous enough with his ship. Technically speaking, she hadn't given him any money for passage when she'd passed out. He could have just left her. Most people would. She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd taken her money and then left her. If he could have even taken her somewhere to get help before taking off, she'd have thought him generous. Instead, he'd actually carried her in, helped out during the surgery--even though it was obviously the last place he wanted to be--and comforted her. That was above and beyond.

He also had an Alliance experiment on his ship. One that the Alliance would kill anyone who got in their way in order to get her back. And, unlike Camille, this one wasn't constantly changing her looks and her name and her personality. She hadn't been trained to change, to blend. She remained the same, beautiful, brilliant girl that the Alliance had lost.

Camille wondered about River. Who had she been before the Alliance got a hold of her, and who was she now. Was she fragmented like Camille was? Was River even her real name?

But Mal. A mystery. A simple man involved in so many complicated things. What made him tick?

He was dreaming now, sitting on a horse in the middle of a sun drenched field. In front of him was a herd of cattle, grazing on deep green grass contentedly. Mal shared the same contentment. He was simply leaning against the saddle horn, smiling at his herd, looking very satisfied.

Definitely an Independent. He was wearing the brown coat and everything. She bet there were battle scars on his skin, remnants of a war he'd given everything to.

That so many people gave everything to.

Serenity. As in the battle of. Oh.

In his dream, Mal sat up. It was a slow smile, happy, that lit his face until it rivaled the sun. With a loud almost bellowing sigh, he stretched like a person whose entire concentration was just on the feel of his muscles as he moved them, reveling in the fact he was alive. When he turned towards Camille, he had a drowsy smile on his face.

"Hey," he called, smile growing impossibly wider.

Ai ya! He shouldn't have been able to sense her in his mind, especially not with her being so unobtrusive. Mal must be a sensitive. Damn.

"Hi," she heard herself saying. She knew the drill. When invading someone's mind, there were two choices to make. One was to force your way in, to take control. Depending on how strong the psychic and how strong the resistance of the mind invaded, it could either be very easy or very hard. It always, though, left traces behind.

The second choice was to play along with the thoughts and impulses of the mind you were in. A trace of the psychic was left behind, but it was insubstantial, like a ghost. Since she hadn't meant to be here, it was better to play along and let Mal guide her.

He slid off his horse and walked over to her. "So. How are things back at the house?" His arms slid around her waist and he pulled her close.

Oh, wow. She wasn't just in the dream. She was playing a huge role in the dream. Wife? Lover? What?

"Good," she answered, returning his smile. "I finished goin' over the harvest totals. We have enough to keep ourselves fed for the next year. And, we can sell some of the surplus for a tidy profit, plus have enough left over for them that need it most. Just like you always wanted."

Mal smiled, his arms tightening around her. "When can we take it out?"

"Day or two. Enough to get Serenity prepped, make sure Jones can take over the ranch for a few weeks."

"More than a few weeks." He kissed her softly. "Seems to me I still owe you a proper honeymoon. What do you say we sell the crops, play hero a bit, then you and me disappear for a spell?"

This desire for her better be because Camille had been invading his mind while he was having this dream. She wanted to like Serenity. She wanted to be comfortable here. Having to worry about the captain lusting after her wouldn't make her comfortable.

Wo de tian a. He was still kissing her, gently, softly, with a light tongue that played over her bottom lip. Fire raced down her spine, and she pressed against him, feeling his body against hers even though it was just a dream. His hair threaded between her fingers, his mouth was wet and warm, and he was...

"Camille?"

Her eyes flew open. Simon was standing over her, holding a tray.

"Are you all right?"

She sat up slowly, hot and flustered. "I'm fine." She took the mug of soup Simon offered her and sipped it slowly. "It's good."

"You're lucky we're just shipped out. We have fresh food on board. Normally we only have packets of protein. We try to make it taste better, but there isn't much you can do with protein packets."

"Yeah, I know. Ship food is awful."

He looked at her. "I was under the impression that you didn't travel much."

People and their assumptions. "I never said that," Camille pointed out. She took another sip of soup. "I haven't gone off on my own. Every time I've moved, it's been because someone else wants me to. So my experience is defined by theirs. I wanted to see everything on my own."

"Ah. That makes sense."

"What about you? How'd you end up here?"

A guarded expression fell over his face. "I left home. River came with me. We wanted freedom, and, well. After talking to people, I decided that maybe Unification hadn't been the best thing after all. River and I found Serenity on Persephone. We were lucky."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "Captain Reynolds is a good man. Better than many." His eyes gazed into infinity and he repeated softly, "We were lucky."

"I'm glad," Camille said. She just hoped her luck on this ship would be good as well.

* * *

"This is your room," River said, sliding the door opened.

Camille stepped in and looked around. It was small and bare, but had an actual bed. She didn't always get one of those, so despite the plainness of the room, it seemed almost luxurious. Plus, it was private. She could close the door and be alone when she wanted. In her travels, she hadn't always gotten that, either. This trip was looking up.

"It's nice," she said, crossing to the bed. "Thanks."

River smiled and followed her into the room. "It's not *nice*. But it's home." She ran her hand over the wall and cocked her head. "It took awhile to get used to her. To anything on the outside. But I like it here. More than Simon, I think." She looked back at Camille. "Simon's next door. My room is across the corridor."

Hmm. "Your room, or your and Kaylee's room?"

"My room."

"You don't sleep in the same room?" Camille asked, surprised. People like them slept with their significant others. Or anyone available. Whenever possible.

"Mostly we do, but we have our own rooms, too. But I need space to be alone sometimes." Her smile was tired as she pressed the heel of her hand into her forehead. "It's hard to be alone here."

No kidding. Seven people in close quarters with psychic powers you couldn't control. Yeah, space would definitely be a problem.

"How long have you and Kaylee been together?" Camille asked, setting her rucksack on the bed. She opened it and started pulling out clothes.

"Four months, one week, six days, twenty hours, and fourteen minutes." River sat on the bed. She made a face at the disordered heap of clothes, then started to fold them neatly, sorting shirts from skirts and skirts from pants.

"She's worried, you know," Camille said. She took the book with the hidden door in it and slid it under the pillow. Then she dumped the books she was actually reading out, setting them on the shelf next to her bed. "About me, I mean. She senses something between us, and is assuming it's attraction."

"Yes, I know." River frowned and smoothed her hands over a shirt. "She doesn't need to worry."

"And I'll make sure not to give her anything to worry about." She took a jewelry box out and set it by the books.

"You could tell her."

"About me? No. No, I'd rather not."

"Why?

Camille sighed and pushed her bangs off her forehead. "Because then I'd have to explain who I am and what I was doing on Persephone."

River's eyes flicked to Camille's stomach, and she reached out, placing her hand over the wound. "They don't know."

The Alliance, not the crew. "They better not. The poison was supposed to be untraceable. And I didn't beat him too badly. Mostly I blocked what he threw." Then, when River grinned, Camille said, "Hey. I did the best I could under the circumstances. But who goes to see a Companion with a knife, and then leaves after only a few minutes?"

"He had a meeting. Unexpected," River said. "Got pulled away from Inara before they were done." She wrinkled her nose. "Before they got started. Mal was pleased when he heard that. She usually doesn't talk about her clients, but she heard that he died a few hours after we left. It bothered her."

"Well, yeah, I can see that." She rubbed her nose. "Mal was pleased?"

River shrugged, her shoulders rising and falling gracefully. "They attract and repel and dance around each other constantly. They love and hate and don't understand. And it can never be because..."

"She's chosen her path," Camille finished, eyes half closed. Inara's mind wrapped around hers, soothing and warm. "Forever apart, always an observer, never one of the crowd, she.." Gasping, she forced herself out of Inara's mind. "You tricked me," she accused.

"No. I was just talking. You're the one who sought her out." Her head cocked. "You're not like me."

"No." She twister her fingers in her lap. "I've got... ways of dealing with it."

"That's not what I meant."

Camille exhaled slowly. "I know." She pressed her palms against her thighs. "There were two sets of us. The geniuses, the absolute cream of the crop in one place. The rest of us in another. All bright, all talented, all the best of the best. Only... you were trained for one thing. Us for another."

"And I'm more powerful? My abilities?"

"Yeah, I think so." Camille leaned forward and put her hand on River's knee. "How'd you get out?"

"Simon. You?"

"It's a long story." She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. "His name is Garrison Pike. He's rich. Powerful. Was a spy during the war for the Independents and managed to turn that into a profit, too. When the war was over, he moved to a secluded moon, way out of the way. But he kept his ear to the ground and fingers in a lot of projects. He started hearing rumors about kids being taken and experimented on. Being hurt. He found out more information, greased a lot of palms, and then started liberating us. I guess the first couple died. Where I was, they really messed us up. But, the more he worked and the more doctors he got, the better he was able to rehabilitate us. And then he train us so our talents, hard gotten though they are, could be put to use."

"How long have you been out?"

"Three years, eleven months, thirteen days, two hours, and eighteen minutes. And it took almost two years until I was the only one in my head. Before I stopped waking up screaming from the voices and the visions." She shuddered, remembering those days, remembering what it felt like to constantly have other people in her head without being able to block them out.

"What did you do? Before? To help?"

"Sex. It was the only thing helped. And, of course, the scientists who did this to us knew that, right?" She smiled at River, only to find River looking at her with a vaguely puzzled look on her face.

Huh. Everyone else liked them had always agreed on that part. Maybe at her Academy, they didn't...

No. Because Prophet had been at least as sexually insatiable as the rest of them. Maybe more. Camille should know. She'd been the main one involved in taking care of him. Not that it'd been a chore or anything.

If River didn't have any idea what it felt like not to *need* someone like that, maybe... maybe she still had the androgen inhibitor in her.

What as she doing with Kaylee, then?

Speak of the devil.

"Hey!" Kaylee said, looking bright-eyed and sunny as she stuck her head inside Camille's room. "Why, you're looking right flush this mornin', Miss Camille. Not waxy and sick like you were. Doc musta fixed you up real good."

Camille returned Kaylee's smile, unable to resist the unbridled joy the other woman exuded. "That he did," she answered, naturally slipping into the country accent she'd adopted for the role she was playing. "I'm feelin' much better than I were yesterday."

Kaylee entered and sat on the bed next to River. "I'm glad. You gave us a real scare. How could someone do that to you? It just ain't right."

"There's a lot that ain't right with the 'verse, Kaylee. Roger was just one of those things." Okay, apparently her fake boyfriend's name was Roger. She had to remember that name.

"No, I don't believe that. I mean, yeah, things ain't perfect, but I think there's more good than bad in it."

Had she met her girlfriend? If anything, River was a prime example of how evil was predominate. But Camille couldn't say that; she was so used to hiding what she was, that she couldn't even reveal herself to people who already knew about what the Alliance had done. It didn't make sense, but then, life seldom did.

"You have a nice view on life," Camille said. She closed her rucksack and dropped it onto the floor.

Kaylee glanced down at the clothes River had started folding again. "Oh, wow. Camille, these are pretty!" She picked up a dark purple shirt and held it in front of her. "You sure got nice clothes."

"Yeah, well, Roger always did like to see me lookin' fine," she replied. "He weren't never stingy in that department."

She frowned thoughtfully. "Yeah, but, what would you'd rather have? Someone who treats you nice or someone who just dresses you nice?"

"Like a doll," River said distractedly. She pulled her hair off her neck a moment before letting it cascade around her shoulders again. "Look pretty, look innocent, look fragile, like a doll made of glass who sits on a chair. Underneath, though, there's danger and courage. Strength. And..." She trailed off, head inclining, eyes lost and distant. "Kathleen."

Hell.

"Who's Kathleen?" Kaylee asked. She looked at Camille expectantly. Obviously River did this a lot, although that was no surprise. And Kaylee knew that when things stopped making sense, it must have something to do with the newest person in the room.

Quickly, she tried to decide what to say. Should she deny having any knowledge about a Kathleen, put it off on River, or admit she knew the name.

If she denied it, River would rat her out. Better tell the truth at a slant

"Don't matter," Camille answered. "She's dead."

"No," River said, eyes sharpening. "She isn't. She's still there."

"Kathleen is *dead*," Camille said again, much sharper this time. God, she hated the real powerful psychics. Prophet was just the same, needling her like this, digging where he didn't belong. Of course, he did it to be an asshole, showing off his abilities and trying to get a rise out of her. River was just out of control.

"Who's dead?" Mal asked from the door.

"No one," answered Camille.

"Someone named Kathleen," Kaylee said at the same time. "But I think it's somethin' best left alone."

Camille smiled gratefully at Kaylee. She wanted the subject closed and done for, gorramit. This was not something she was going to talk about with strangers.

But River was lost in her own mind, apparently, because she looked at Mal and said, "He'd like Kathleen." Then she frowned and said, "Met Kathleen already."

"I don't recall meetin' a Kathleen, River. Who is she?"

"It's really not important, Captain. Please just drop it." What the hell was River talking about, Camille wondered.

Then, River turned to her, a smile curving her lips and said, "Not just his dream."

Oh God, she really hoped that River didn't mean what Camille thought she did. Swallowing to hide her embarrassment, Camille glanced at Mal.

He was looking at River with a puzzled expression on his face. Then, he shook it off and said, "Well, all right, then, we'll just call the matter dropped. You look better, Miss."

"Call me Camille, Captain. And thank you."

"Just tellin' the truth. Anyway, we're about to start a ball game down in the cargo area. River, Kaylee? You up to it?"

"Sure thing," Kaylee said, rising from bed immediately. She folded Camille's shirt once again and took River's hand. "Come on, sweetie. Let's play."

River glanced at Camille, who gave a quick nod of her head. They could always talk later. Kaylee didn't seem jealous anymore, but she was still harboring doubts. Camille wanted to do whatever she could to put those to rest.

"All right. Do you want to watch, Camille?"

"Only way I'll be able to learn the rules. I wanna play. I hate not havin' anything to do."

"Space travel can be awful boring," Mal agreed. "But you be sure to get Doc's leave first. He gets mighty snippy if you don't."

She grinned and rose. "Don't worry, I will." Camille made to follow River and Kaylee out of the room, but there was something in Mal's expression that stopped her. "Is somethin' wrong?"

He was looking intently at her face, a crease between his eyes. "No," he said slowly. "I just... I don't know. I have this funny feelin' suddenly."

"A funny feeling?"

"Yeah. Like... Like we was talkin' or something. Only, I can't remember when or about what. I almost feel like it's somthin' I made up."

Ah, damn. He was one of those who didn't remember his dreams, but didn't completely forget them, either. This dream was trying to break through that barrier. Really, if she'd had any idea Mal would sense her in his head last night, that he was sensitive to psychics, she never would have gone dream walking. "Well, unless you're thinking about before the doctor stitched me up, you're either mistaken or I can't remember either. Was it important?"

"Naw." He shook his head. "Don't think so. Shouldn't have even brought it up." Mal cocked his head out the door, then exited.

No, Camille thought, it was a good thing he'd brought it up. She'd enjoyed his dream a little too much last night. So much, in fact, that she might have been tempted to go in again to see what would happen. But not now. Now she knew the dangers. There was no way she was going to get caught by Captain Reynolds, either as a survivor of Alliance experiments or... or as anything else.

"Camille, this is everyone," Mal said when they got to he cargo hold. "Everyone, Camille."

"Hey, y'all," she said with a smile.

"Glad to see you up," Wash said, holding his hand out to shake. This was the guy with the dinosaurs. He was a good guy, sweet, friendly; when Camille touched his hand, she got nothing but good will and some light appreciation for her looks. Sweet, and utterly devoted to his wife.

And what a wife. Tall, beautiful, tough. Everything Camille had always wanted in a woman. She wondered if this pair wanted a third, then dismissed the thought. Too complicated, and besides, they seemed complete enough on his own.

Book was looking at her with a hint of trepidation on his eyes. "Good morning," he said politely, but guardedly. "Are you feeling better."

"I am." She tucked her hair behind her ears as she lightly played through the top layers of his mind. Book had a lot of secrets and a very dark part of him. But, he genuinely regretted the darkness and was trying to make amends.

She just didn't want him to use her to do it.

"About last night," she started, but Book shook his head, giving her a gentle smile.

"I overstepped my bounds," he said. "I should have asked before I prayed over you as I am well aware there are those who... feel differently about God than I. I humbly ask your forgiveness."

"I make it a policy not to condemn people who are only doing right." She shrugged and gave him a lopsided smile. "Well. When I'm not in pain, I mean. I'm sorry for the way I acted, what I said."

"I assure you, my dear, there is nothing you need feel sorry for." He smiled at her and pat her gently on the arm before turning away.

"And this is Jayne," Mal said, clapping the big man on the back.

"Hi," she said, smiling at the big man. Obviously the muscle of the crew; she wasn't surprised they needed it.

Jayne leered at her and took her hand. "Hey."

A torrent of loudly lustful thoughts crashed into her, so strong that she literally had to step back from him. "Lao tian ye!" Her hands flew to her forehead and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"You get used to him," River said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Camille leaned into the touch, allowing River's mind to merge with her own, blanketing Jayne's noise. "Doesn't he have a volume switch?"

"No," she laughed. "Only one track, though."

"Yeah, but what a track," she said dryly. She dropped her hands and opened her eyes again.

"Are you all right, Camille?" Simon asked. He walked beside her and took her by the wrist, taking her pulse

"I'm fine. I've a bit... got a headache," she corrected quickly. Gorram, this man and his loud thoughts actually made her break character. She couldn't remember the last time that happened.

"Maybe you should lie down," Simon said, not noticing her gaffe.

"Um, no. I feel better up and about. I think I'll go back up so y'all can start your game."

Jayne nodded and ran her eyes over her. "Yeah, you do that. Be sure to watch me close. You ain't never seen the kinda moves I got out here."

"Trust me; I've seen more moves than you'd ever be able to think of." She turned, rolling her eyes as she did. Off to one side, she saw Mal stifle a laugh and felt pleased at amusing him.

Simon dropped her wrist and nodded. "If you start feeling worse, just tell me. You were badly injured and need your rest."

"I will, Doc. Thanks." She touched his arm, schooling her expression into one of gratitude, then climbed the stairs back to the upper deck.

There weren't any rules to the game as far as Camille could see. There were teams and a ball and a hoop. And the teams got the ball into the hoop any way they possibly could. They had fun doing it, too. There was a lot of laughing and shouting.

Camille leaned against the railing, studying the players. Mal and Zoe were good naturedly competitive; they played to win, but they played to have fun, too. Jayne wanted to win. Kaylee wanted to have fun. Simon didn't want to get his hands smashed by Jayne, who was doing his best to smash any part of Simon he could, and River...

River was probably the most competitive one out there, even more so than Jayne. Not that Camille was surprised by that. Academy kids were all competitive, whether by nature of because of the Alliance, she wasn't sure. But she did know that they were all trained to win at any cost; they were trained killers, trained soldiers. Even if there was no blood, nothing really at stake, they played to win. Back at the base, any game the kids played tended to end in a brawl. Garrison finally banned them from playing anything--even cards--unless there was a referee present.

And, from the looks of it, River was no different from any of them.

"Hello," a soft voice said from besides her.

Camille turned. "You must be Inara."

Inara smiled and nodded. "I am." She held out on graceful hand, which Camille took in hers. "It's good to meet you."

"Same here. You're so beautiful."

Her smile grew. "Thank you. You're quite lovely yourself." She touched Camille's cheek. "I hate to see bruises on a woman, though."

"There are some who don't." Camille still hadn't hold of Inara's hand, and her heart was beating quickly. It was part attraction, part challenge. She'd only ever known one person who'd seduced a Companion successfully, and he'd cheated. As far as Camille was concerned, using your powers to influence the outcome didn't count; he hadn't agreed. "I happened to find one of them."

"Sometimes we all make bad decisions." Inara turned her hand over in Camille's, so it wasn't a handshake anymore, but a handhold.

Camille could feel Mal's eyes on her, but didn't care. This gorgeous woman was flirting with her, and even if it was only that, Camille could work with it. There was something to be said about flirting and its fantasy-inducement potential. And Camille did have a private bunk. What with Mal's dream and Inara's gentle flirting, it was looking to be a good night for Camille.

"Well, some of us do at any rate," Camille said, running a finger over the back of Inara's hand. "And some of us do more than others. I happen to be one of those some."

"But that's in the past now. You're free now, and can move on." She touched Camille's face again. "If you want to talk.... I have experience in the world. I might be able to help you."

"I might like being helped." Camille wet her lips and opened her mouth to suggest they talk some now when..

Tring. Tring. Tringtring triiiiiiiiig.

Gou shi.

She extracted her hand from Inara's and stepped back. "I'd like that. But later. Tonight, maybe? I've a sudden headache."

Her monitor trilled again, vibrating hard enough to rattle her skull. Head aching, she pressed her hand into the nape of her neck, although that had never proven effective in the past.

"I understand," Inara said sympathetically. "Please, if you feel better tonight, stop by my shuttle."

"I will. Thank you." Then, as her monitor went off again, she turned and retreated to the safe haven of her room.

After closing the door, she dove into her rucksack again. At the bottom, hidden in a camouflaged compartment, was a small, leather bound computer, just big enough to fit into her hand. She opened it quickly and turned it on.

"What?" she shouted, ready to give Garrison a piece of her mind. Bad enough he wasn't fucking her, but now he was ruining other conquests as well? Screw that.

To her surprise, Prophet appeared on the monitor. "Well, well, bao bei, that's quite a temper you've got going there Something happen?"

"You probably ruined my best chances of getting laid, that's what happened," Camille said, even though she knew it was a lie. Inara wouldn't sleep with her, especially if she though Camille had just gotten out of an abusive relationship. "How'd you get on this line? It's Garrison's private line."

"Oh, please, Camille. I'm a genius, he's not." He flashed a smile at her, his blue eyes gleaming with pride. "I hacked into his system, like those kids in that book we read. Remember, about the kids training for battle in space? They played all those games in that battle room?"

"I remember that book. So you saying your Bean?"

"I'm not the short one, beautiful."

Camille rolled her eyes.

"What happened, xin ai? There was a fuss earlier in the control room. Garrison left a lesson with me to take care of it. Apparently your monitor went to a level three? That's pretty sloppy."

"My job didn't go according to plan, and I ended up getting stabbed. I had a blood transfusion and I was unconscious right after. I got to level three almost before I woke up. No big."

Prophet shook his head, obviously concerned. "Don't do it again.

"Yes, sir."

"Seriously. I was worried, Camille. So was Garrison."

"I don't want to talk about him."

"Big surprise," Prophet muttered under his breath. "Seriously, you need to get over it. He cut you off, big deal. It's not like he's that good in bed anyway."

"I said I don't want to talk about him," she said tersely. "Besides, I have something I want to ask you. When you were at the Academy, was there a girl named River?"

"Is that her real name?"

"Yeah."

"What does she go by now?" he asked, surprised.

Camille shrugged. "She's not like us. She still goes by River. Did you know her?"

Prophet frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. Maybe. It's all kind of fuzzy."

That was a huge lie. Everyone who'd been liberated from the Alliance had perfect recollection of what had happened to them. Articulation could be a problem, but the longer Garrison and the rest of his staff worked with them, the better able they were able to talk about what had happened to them. Although, of course, none of them liked thinking about it.

"Prophet...."

"Sorry, Camille," he said shortly. "I honestly can't remember. Why?"

"She's on the ship I'm traveling on. And she's a lot like you. Academy, not where I was. Her brother got her out, and she's unstable. Powerful, too."

"Should I tell Garrison?"

"No, I will. I'll check in when I get to Dyton Colony and tell him then. Until then, I'll try to learn more." She sighed and lay back . "How are things at base?"

"Same as always. Classes, training, more classes, more training. I got to go out on a job about three months ago. Did well, too. He's talking about sending me into something more dangerous, maybe deep in the Core. Hey. Apropos of nothing, I'm thinking of bleaching my hair. Platinum blond. What do you think?"

Prophet was a beautiful young man, with pale, pale skin and dark brown hair. His cheeks were permanently flushed, making him look innocent and young. Blonde hair would wash him out.

"I think you'd look horrible. You're too pale to be blonde; you'd blend into walls and then *you'll* be a chameleon."

He laughed. "I think I'll leave that trick to you, bian se long. And I won't listen to you, either. I'd look fantastic with platinum hair."

"Then why did you even ask my advice?"

"To make you think I care about your opinion. That way, you'll sleep with me when you get back." He turned away from the monitor for a moment, then back. "I've got to go. I'll talk to you later, Camille. Take care."

"You too."

The screen when dark as the connection was cut. Camille closed the computer and put it back in the sealed compartment. She thought about returning to the cargo hold to watch the game, but before she could decide, sleep washed over her and took her away.

* * *

The ship was dark and silent when Camille opened her eyes again. She groaned softly as she stretched; God, she hadn't even meant to fall asleep, let alone sleep twelve hours.

She rolled onto her side and slid out of bed. She was hungry--starving--and sore. The stitches in her side were burning like fire. For the umpteenth million time, Camille roundly cursed the Alliance, Garrison, and the ben tian sheng de yi rou who'd come up with a mix of chemicals that'd fix her brain yet interact badly with most, if not all, pain killers.

Her monitor buzzed softly. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her medicine out of its hiding place. It wasn't an emergency like it had been last night, although normally she didn't need her medicine every day anymore. The monitor had been doing it's job perfectly, teaching her blood how to make the correct chemical mix to keep her stable. But the blood transfusion had been too much for it to handle, hence the needed dose.

Not to mention she was completely off anything resembling a normal schedule. That had to stop. No matter what, she was up at six hundred tomorrow and doing laps. If she couldn't run, then she'd walk, but she had to get active and have something to do or else she'd have to medicate herself every day.

Doing her best to stay quiet, she slid open the door to her room and stepped into the silent hall. She could hear Simon snoring softly in his room and River tossing and turning in hers. She hesitated, considering going in to visit River and unburden her soul. Or, she could go into Simon's and see if he was pale all over. Both options sounded appealing.

But, she was good and chose the one that would get her in the least amount of trouble. She went to the galley to get something to eat.

"Hello," a voice greeted her softly when she entered.

Camille stopped, heart thudding. "Captain Reynolds. I didn't know anyone was up."

Mal was stretched across a couch at the far end of the dining room with his socked feet propped on the arm and a book resting on his chest. He had his head lifted and he was looking at Camille with an expression of lazy interest and quiet amusement.

Unaccountably flustered, Camille raised her hand to her hair and tried to comb it down; she could feel how tangled and disarrayed it was from sleeping, and when she glanced down, she saw her clothes were disheveled as well. "Am I allowed to be here?"

"Course. Part of what you're payin' for is the right to eat." He gestured to the galley and picked his book back up.

There was still some fresh food, and something that looked like stew in a pot on the stove. Camille heated it up while she cut a thick slice of bread off a staling loaf. To this, she added an apple and a cup of tea, and she had herself a meal. Before she started eating, she washed the now empty pot out and found a tray; no reason to stay at the table alone, she figured. She might as well eat with company.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, sinking onto the arm of the couch. Carefully, she balanced the tray on her knees and started eating.

"Sure." He sat up, pulling his legs closer to him. "You can even sit on the couch proper like," Mal added, looking at Camille's legs from under his eyelashes.

"Thanks." She slid onto the couch, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs as she did. Currently, she was wearing a loose top and flowing short skirt that made her look more delicate than she usual allowed herself to seem. It wasn't her favorite outfit by any means, but it'd seemed to fit in with the abused girl act she was playing

She had a feeling, though, that she was going to drop that act soon. What with River being there, drawing Camille out of the role, it didn't make sense to stay in something so contrary to her personality. A role was only good if she didn't have to think too much about how she was going to go about it. River was too distracting and kept dragging her back into what she really was when Camille was supposed to let those around her mold her into what she was supposed to be.

"So," Camille said after inhaling half the bowl. "What's keeping you up?"

"Things."

"Things?"

He shrugged and said, "The usual things that keep a body up at night."

"I take it you don't sleep a lot."

Mal nodded, frowned, then shook his head. "Um, yes, I often have nights where I can't sleep."

"Me too." She bit into the bread and chewed thoughtfully. "I mean, if it ain't the dreams then it's just the ...

"Blackness," they said together.

"Yeah." Camille shot him a smile that didn't feel real and took another bite of her bread. "Whatcha reading?"

"Stories about Earth-that-Was. 'Bout ranches and cowboys and the like."

Camille nodded, thinking about his dream from last night. Mal definitely seemed like the cowboy-type, the good kind. The one rough on the edges, but with a heart of gold. Reckless but loyal. The kind of person you wanted on your side.

"You ever been on ranch?" she asked.

"Grew up on one," he said slowly. "My momma owned a ranch on Shadow. You?"

She sighed, mentally berating herself. Still, she'd brought this on herself, really. And then walked right into the question. "I have," she said after a moment of deliberation. "Before the war." Appetite gone, she put the tray on the floor and sat back.

"You was just a kid then," Mal said, like that meant she had no right to remember anything bad about that time.

"When I was growin' up or durin' the war?"

"Both."

"My family lived in the Core until I was about... ten? That's when the Unification push started. My daddy pulled up stakes, moved us out to a ranch on the boarder planets. And then..." She bit her tongue hard, furious at herself. What the hell was she planning on doing? Tell him how her father had left to fight with the brown coats and her mother had gotten kicked in a head by one of the bulls and died? How the Alliance had taken her from the ranch hands who were taking care of her and treated her like their own personal lab rat? How she didn't know she was an orphan until three years later when Garrison liberated her and she learned about Serenity Valley?

She never talked about it. She never even thought about it. And now, not fifteen minutes alone with this man, and she was doing both.

"Camille?"

She pushed her bangs off her forehead. "I don't talk about this much. Ever. I prefer my past stay in my past."

Mal nodded. "I know whatcha mean. I don't talk about myself much either. In fact, so far as I can remember, I only ever told on other person about where I grew up on this ship, and she were a passenger, too." There was a sudden uneasiness in Mal's voice, and his eyes turned suspicious.

She stood and took her dishes back to the sink. She didn't know why he was suddenly so uneasy, but she was pretty sure that it didn't have as much to do with her as whoever it was that he told all this in the past. "Funny how you can go for years not talkin' 'bout something, only to have it all come rushing back when you meet someone new."

"Why do you suppose that happens?" he asked, sounding guarded.

"Well, different reasons I suppose. Suppose there's sometimes that, wherever you been living, there ain't anyone you can talk to about it. So, when there's someone new, one gets the urge to confess."

"I've got a shepherd on board ifin I never get that urge."

"Right," she drawled, walking back to the couch. There was a deck of cards on the table that she grabbed and shuffled them idly. "Because you're exactly the type to bare your soul to a religious man."

Mal gave her something that was a smile but wasn't, like he was trying hard not to show that he was amused. She wondered who the passenger he'd told his past to was, and what she--or he'd--done to him. And, of course, if Camille resembled that person at all.

"Well, maybe your right. Maybe I'm not the type, but then, I'm not the type to talk much about myself, neither."

"Well, maybe I'm just lulling you into a false sense of security," Camille said flirtatiously, dealing the cards.

He leaned forward to take his, but didn't pull back. "And to what purpose would you be doin' that?"

She lowered her eyelashes and let the tip of her tongue touch her bottom lip. "Why, Captain, a girl never reveals her reasons." Bad hand. Go shi.

A quick flick of her wrist revealed the orange as the tall card.

"You ain't after somthin' of mine, is you?" More suspicious than playful; she better back off.

She shrugged. "Well, if I am, it ain't nothing you'd be unwilling to give up by the time I got it, believe you me."

"Oh, is that how it is?" He relaxed every so slightly. "And what makes you think I'd ever willingly give anything up to you?" Mal put down two cards.

"Ouch," Camille said, laughing as she gave him his new cards. She took one for herself and picked up the tall card. "Am I all that unpersuasive?"

"I'm just saying that a gentleman like me don't give nothin' up easily." He laid down his hand.

Damn. "Fold." Then, as he took the deck and shuffled, she replied, "Seems to me that you don't know much about me. I've got a lot of ways to persuade a fella to give me what I want." She looked at him through her eyelashes.

"Maybe." Still shuffling, he allowed his eyes to meander down her body before answering, "But maybe you ain't never come up against a fella like me, neither." He dealt the cards.

"One fella's just like another in my opinion," Camille said, looking at her hand. It was the worst hand ever.

Mal set his cards down. "No, we ain't."

She could count cards, why wasn't she? Camille didn't lost, she...

The air around her changed, darkening and growing colder. Surprised, Camille lookd up from her hand.

Mal's face was like stone, his eyes flinty hard.

Obviously she'd missed a step somewhere.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "We ain't all the same," Mal said flatly. "All men, we ain't. Some of us are decent folk, capable of treating others... women... people they love right. With respect."

Oh, tamade, how could she have been so stupid? "Captain..."

"Look, you got dealt a bad hand with your boyfriend. Maybe more than the one, I don't know what your life's been like. But just because you've run into a few bad guy, don't mean we're all cut the same or nothing."

"I know," Camille said, looking away from the intensity of his eyes. "Cap... Mal, I know all men aren't the same. That'd be just like sayin' all women are the same, or all stars or all ships. I was just teasing you, and I wasn't thinking."

"It wasn't funny."

Now she did look at him. "I'm sorry." Tentatively, Camille put her hand on his knee. "I didn't mean to insult your honor."

He just flashed a close-lipped smile. "It's fine. Cards?"

Fantastic. Way to ruin the evening, Camille, she mentally berated herself. She placed three cards down disgustedly; her replacement three weren't any better.

"Ha!" Mal crowed, looking at his hand.

"Worst poker face ever," Camille said, folding. She threw her cards down.

"I'm on a roll," Mal said, flashing his cards as if to rub her face in the fact she was doing poorly. "We should be playing for something."

"What do you usually play for?" She kept a close eye on the cards as he shuffled, trying to keep track. Losing was not an option; she had to win. "Money?"

"Chores, mostly. But since you ain't got to do no chores..."

"I want to." She took her hand and glanced at him. Go shi! "I go pretty darn crazy when I ain't doing anything. I'll wash dishes, cook, or whatever."

"That's real fine of you," Mal said. "Cards?"

She rolled her eyes and put three of her cards down. The plum card was tall, and she grabbed that. Mal dealt her two bum.

"I don't believe this," she sighed, folding yet again. "Are you giving me bad cards on purpose?"

He laughed and shook his head. "I'm just lucky tonight, that's all. Look, I'll shuffle them real good this time."

"Thank you."

Mal shuffled again, eyes on the cards. "Can I asked you something?"

"Sure."

"What's goin' on between you and River?" He asked all casual, still shuffling the round cards in his hands, fingers dexterously sliding them in and out of each other.

Camille watched his fingers, marveling at their masculine grace. "River? We're friends."

"And that's all."

She blinked and raised her eyes to his face. He was still studiously not looking at her.

"Of course," Camille said. "She's with Kaylee. And I wouldn't try to come between two people I barely know."

"You just seem awful close awful fast."

"Well. I guess I... I sort of a connection with River. Like we're on the same frequency or something."

Now he did look at her, but through his lashes again, looking almost coy. "You do realize that she's got... problems, right? Mentally."

"You'd have to be blind not to," Camille responded. "But she's smart. And fascinating."

"You're smart too, ain't you?"

There was a trap here, somewhere. She didn't quite know what he was trying to do, but something was falling apart. Oh, all right. She knew what it was. Her story was falling apart because of River's presence, and Mal was beginning to see that something didn't add up. And, so, he was poking at it, trying to prod at the cracks and watch it unfold.

"You gonna deal those cards or keep playing with them?"

He nodded and dealt without a word, but his smile and the way he met her eyes told her that he hadn't missed her deflection. And she knew without a doubt that Mal was going to keep poking and prying until he got the story to unravel.

Which just meant that, tonight, Camille was going to have to weave a new story, this one tight enough that no matter how he tried, he'd never get to come undone.

* * *

"I don't know if I trust her," Zoe said, frowning at the ceiling.

"Not unusual for you." Wash was sleepy. Sated. And not in the mood to talk about their passenger. Not right now.

"Did you see her eyes when she was lookin' at Mal earlier?"

"Like she just saw her first planet from space." He rubbed his face. "I also saw the way she looked at you and Inara. So she's attracted to him. She's attracted to you and Inara, too, and that don't worry me." He rolled over and slung an arm across her stomach. "Or should I be worried."

Zoe smacked him lightly on the back of the head. "What was with her reaction to Jayne."

"Have you smelled him?"

"Wash, be serious."

He sighed. "Fine. You want me to say it, fine. She reminds me of River."

"Me, too."

"What's the problem, then. We like River."

"River's family."

He kissed the dip where Zoe's collar bone met and said, "We'll keep an eye on her. Bur really, Zoe, Camille might not be so bad. I mean, did you see the way Mal looked at her?"

Zoe frowned and ran her fingers through his hair. "Yes, I did," she said dourly. "And that's what worries me."

* * *

Mal frowned and leaned against the railing of the deck surrounding the cargo hold. They were about a day away from Dyton Colony. Wash was trying to wave their contact, but as yet there'd been no response. Mal wasn't really surprised; Dyton Colony had the shoddiest technologies and nothing almost every worked they way they was supposed to. He weren't really worried, neither. Despite Dyton being a haven for ex-cons, their cargo was legit. Some medical supplies they was short on, and a buncha rations on account of a drought that wiped out over half their crops.

So, for once, the job weren't the problem. The problem was the pretty new passenger they'd picked up on Persephone. The one with the big cut on her stomach and the eyes full of sadness. The one who'd played the abuse card and wormed her way right through Mal's suspicions so that he took her story at face value.

A story that, the more he thought about it, she hadn't told him at all. He'd told it to himself based off cues and suggestions from her and Camille, well, she'd mostly agreed with him.

He was probably being paranoid, but being paranoid had never led him wrong in the past. In fact, when he wasn't paranoid was when he go himself into trouble, like with Saffron. He'd just taken everything she'd said at face value and almost lost his ship in the process.

Camille, though, didn't strike him as the ruthless type. Not like Saffron had been. Yeah, she was hiding something, but she was also keepin' to herself mostly, and keepin' herself outta the way. Saffron had been all over him like flies on honey, trying to get what she wanted. Camille was ... normal. After she'd lost six rounds of cards the other night, she'd finally given up and gone to bed. That morning, she'd joined the crew for breakfast, talking politely, deflected Jayne's crudity, and spent a lot of time throwing glances at both him and Inara. After, she'd offered to wash dishes and then help Simon organize something in the infirmary. That afternoon, she'd played checkers with River--a series of games that were so fierce and competitive that, in the end, both Kaylee and Simon literally had to take the board and drag them away.

Later, she'd spent some time in the cockpit with Wash, peppering him with questions about flight, something that put Mal on edge, so he'd stayed with them, watching her narrowly. She helped Book make dinner, swept the dining room, and was generally so well behaved and pleasant that, by the end of her third day on board, Mal was havin' a hard time remembering that she weren't actually on his crew.

She was a good girl. Beautiful, too. If Mal were any less than a gentleman, he'd be mighty tempted...

He chased that thought away quickly and leaned harder against the railing. It bit into his skin, focusing his mind.

"Morning, Captain," Simon said, coming up beside him.

"Morning, Doc." He nodded down at Camille and River, who were in the center of the cargo area. "What do you suppose they're doing?"

Simon shrugged as he sipped coffee from the mug he was holding. "Camille said that it's called Ti Chi. It's an ancient form of meditation and exercise that originated on Earth-that-Was. Last night, she told me that she was going crazy from not moving." He smiled and shook his head. "She wanted me to sign off on her, let her be more active than she's been. I told her moderate exercise only."

"She was running laps earlier. Didn't look moderate to me."

"How long have you been watching her, Captain?" Simon asked, sounding surprised, glancing at him. There was an expression on his face Mal didn't like.

"Don't rightly know. A while, I guess." He glanced back down at the girls. "Where'd River learn how to do that?" They were moving in perfect unison, both seemingly lost in the movements.

"Um, as far as I know, from Camille. River picks up on things quickly." But he frowned as he watched them.

"Uh-huh. And how does a girl from nowhere who's seen next to nothin' pick up on an ancient form of martial arts from Earth-that-Was?"

"I don't know. Why don't you just ask her?"

Mal frowned and rubbed his chin. "She'd just give me a buncha go shi about it instead of a straight answer."

"How do you know? She might just surprise you."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Don't much like surprises, prefer to have all the information up front. I've learned from experience that what you don't know can kill you."

Simon groaned and rolled his eyes. "Is this about her being some kind of spy again? Or a criminal out to steal Serenity? Or an assassin?"

"All I'm saying is that something ain't right about that girl. She lied to us."

"You have no proof of that."

"Maybe not, but I've got my gut. And it ain't never wrong."

Simon snorted. "Right. Because you're choices have never gotten this crew in trouble before," he said pointedly. He turned to Malcolm, arms crossed over his chest. "Do you want to know what I think this is about?"

"No."

"I think," he said, acting like he hadn't heard Malcolm, "that this is the same reason we never got together. You're making excuses."

"Oh, wo de ma," he groaned, dropping his head to his arms.

"You use every excuse you can so you don't have to get close to anyone, Mal. With me, it was the Alliance and River..."

"You're crew, too," Mal said, not lifting his head.

"Ah, yes, how could I forget that?" he asked wryly. "Not to mention Inara."

"I don't like complications, Simon. You're complicated." He lifted his head. "It wouldn't have worked, neither."

Simon nodded. "I'm not bitter, Mal. I'm just saying that... it's a pattern with you. Any time anyone you find attractive comes into your sphere, you start coming up with excuses why it can't be. When was the last time you had sex, anyway? Nadine?"

Yes. But Mal wasn't about to admit that. "I ain't attracted to her. She's a passenger with a secret, nothing more."

"And you haven't taken your eyes off her for three straight days," he said with a lopsided smile. "You follow her every movement, don't think I haven't noticed. No secret is worth that much scrutiny."

"Maybe, maybe not." He glanced at Simon. "You like her so much, why ain't you making a move?"

Simon shook his head and turned back. "For one thing, she's a patient and it'd be unethical. For another... there's something fragile about her that reminds me too much of River. It's disturbing. And, finally, I can't be sure that, if I did make a move, as you say, it won't put my captain into a funk. I'd prefer not to have to deal with that."

"Simon..."

"Mal," Simon said in a tone that didn't allow man to say a word. Those eyes tuned to him again, and killed the protest in Mal's throat.

He exhaled slowly and took Simon's coffee from him. Taking a good sized gulp, he glanced back down at Camille.

Camille and River moved into one last, slow pose. They held it for the same number of beats before falling out and turning to one another. Their faces were flush and held identical expressions of peace on them.

"I like that," Mal heard River said softly. He frowned and leaned forward. There was a tone in River's voice that he'd never heard before and couldn't quite put his finger on. But it were something he'd never heard in River before, something very... adult and creepifying.

"Yeah," Camille answered, and, at the sound of her voice, all the blood in Mal's body went south. "I always feel like a completely different person after doing that. Much more centered and alive."

Wu de tian ah. Next to him, Simon cleared his throat and shifted to put some space between them. A quick glance showed that Simon's cheeks were a deep red, telling Mal that it wasn't all in his imagination.

It was sex. That's what had touched River's voice and flooded through Camille's words and movements. At least River still sounded young and innocent enough for it to only be a mild discomfort, but Camille...

Camille's voice brought to mind images of sweat flushed skin, rumpled sheets, and heavy-lidded satisfaction. The look on her face right now was sleepy, sated, and relaxed, like a cat who'd had a whole bowl of cream. It was obscene.

"I want to do it again," River said, eyes fluttering.

"River!" Simon snapped sharply. He sounded much like he did the first few days after he'd caught River and Kaylee in a liplock inside of River's room. Mal had thought Simon had been protective of his sister before, but proof of the girl's womanhood pushed him into overdrive.

River looked up and smiled. "Simon. Did you see?"

"I did." He pulled away from the railing and clambered down the stairs. "And now, you need your medicine, and then we should get breakfast."

River frowned at her brother. "You're upset."

"I was talking with the captain, mei mei, that's all." The implication was clear; Mal was a bad, bad man.

Oh, sure, Mal thought sardonically. Blame him. But he didn't contradict the boy, simply followed him down the stairs, his eyes on Camille. "That was right interesting what you just did there," he said as Simon protectively led River off to the infirmary.

Camille gave him one of those half-smiles she was so good at, like she already knew everything he weren't saying. She propped one leg on a box straight out from her hip and slowly lowered herself over it, taking hold of her foot. "Thank you."

"The doc tells me it's some kind of somethin' from Earth-that-Was. What exactly did you say you did on Persephone?"

"I didn't, actually." She rose gracefully then stretched out over her leg sideways, eyes on Mal. "Would you believe that I was a dancer?"

Well, that would certainly explain why she moved like River. "I might believe you more if you didn't answer me with a question. All I want is a straight answer."

She rose again and dropped her leg. "I did dance on Persephone. In a bar."

He felt a little warm as he realized what sort of dancing she'd probably done. And how much he might like to see her do it. "Uh-huh. So, you were a dancer and learned that exercise thing where?"

"My boss," Camille said.

"Your boss?"

Gracefully, she leaned against the boxes, arms crossed over her chest. "Yes, my boss."

"And your boss, who teaches you ancient stuff from Earth-that-Was, didn't have a problem with lettin' one of his dancers come in all bruised?"

She took a deep breath. "I didn't have a boyfriend."

It should have been more surprising, but it wasn't. What was surprising was that she was admitting it to him. "You didn't."

"No."

"Then who stabbed you?"

"It happened on a job."

His eyebrows hit his hairline. "On a job. Dancing or somethin' else?"

"I'm not a whore, if that's what you're implying," she said evenly. Everything about her was very deliberate and confident, like she was taking off a mask or something. "And, no, it wasn't dancing."

"Then what was it?"

"Let's just say that, besides dancin', I'm a bit like yourself. I look for jobs all over and take thems that don't go against my moral code. This one happened to go south."

"What was the job?"

Her shoulder raised and lowered briefly before she said, "You know that admiral that Inara had the appointment with? The one who died right after she left?"

"Yeah."

"He was a bad man. Someone wanted to teach him a lesson. When he didn't learn the lesson, they wanted him out of the way so he couldn't hurt no one anymore. That was my job."

Mal frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. Assassins and bounty hunters made him uncomfortable and cross; they profited off the lives and deaths of others and weren't too different from slavers in his mind. But, at the same time, he knew the rumors about this admiral. 'Bout how he conned a bunch of good, simple folk into selling off all they had to move out to a newly terraformed colony, only to have the promises of a good life fall through. Rumor was something near two hundred people died that first year, and it weren't getting much better.

"Reports say the admiral died of natural causes," he pointed out.

Camille nodded. "Then I did my job, right. And now that he's gone, someone with an actual conscious is stepping up to help all those people the admiral condemned on that colony." She stepped closer to Mal. "It ain't always killing, Captain. It's just whatever work I can that ain't gonna cause me grief."

He still didn't like it. Didn't like people killing people for money, even if them people was bad. But, truth was, no one was ever going to make anyone in the Alliance pay for their misdeeds. And it weren't like everyone he met was gonna approve of what he did. Simon and Inara barely did, and yet, they both stuck around.

"Why didn't just tell me this in the first place?" he asked. "I don't much like being lied to."

"Ah, well. I needed a quick flight off and you seemed the best choice. Plus, I was in pain and all distracted-like. It was easier to go along with what you was already thinking then try to explain the truth. And, once I was on, I figured it was easy to keep on going with it, 'till I couldn't no more."

"If you put any of my crew in danger, your gone. No questions asked. And if you do something I don't approve of..."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

"Good." He turned to walk away, when something occurred to him. "You ever work for the Alliance?"

Camille snorted and shook her head. "I only work for thems that have consciences. Never found anyone in the Alliance with one of those."

"Well, then, maybe you are a girl after my own heart," he found himself saying.

"Yes, Captain," she answered, voice like sex once again. "Just maybe I am."

* * *

"Hi," Camille said, sticking her head into Inara's shuttle. "May I come in?"

Inara was draped elegantly on her couch, reading a book and drinking tea. She was so perfectly posed, so wonderfully coiffed, that she looked like a picture framed as she was by the beauty of her shuttle. When Camille spoke, Inara raised her head and graced her with a smile. "Yes, of course," Inara said in that wonderfully rich voice of hers. "Please, come inside."

Camille entered, looking around her in awe and admiration. "It's beautiful in here. This is really a shuttle?"

"Yes, it is," Inara laughed as she rose, waving Camille onto the couch. "It's also my place of business, so it has to look respectable."

"You mean you..." Camille trailed off, seeing the ornate bed. Apparently, yes. She did. "So, they just come onto Serenity?"

"No, not usually," she said as she poured another cup of tea. "When we go to a planet, I'll take the shuttle to my clients. Mal will tell me how long we're staying in an area and I make appointments based on the amount of time I'll have."

Camille accepted the tea and gently toed off her shoes. She crossed her legs in front of her and leaned back against the luxurious fabric covering the couch as she thought about it. It was a great idea, actually. Not just for a Companion. Camille like to travel around, and while Garrison usually gave her specific assignments for where she went, sometimes she hung around after a job and got other kinds of work. Having a moving base, like a shuttle on a ship, would be more comfortable and regular than always looking for passage off planet.

"Do you think Mal would rent out the other shuttle?" Camille asked as idly as she could.

Inara shook her head slowly. "Probably not, as he and the crew sometimes use that one. But if you wanted to stay, the room you're in is usually empty. I'm sure you could work something about with him. Do you want to stay?"

Camille lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "Don't know. Was thinkin' about it. It's a nice ship, nice crew. I could see myself traveling around a bit. So, uh, you staying here. It helps out both you and the captain, right?"

"Yes, it allows me to expand my client base and travel freely through the galaxy. And it helps Mal..."

"By making him look respectable?"

"Well," Inara laughed wryly. "Nothing will ever make Mal look respectable, but I do try. And my presence here does help to open some doors so he can get jobs he might not otherwise get."

"I see." She sipped her tea. "How long have you been with Serenity?"

"A little over a year and a half, when you count it all together. I left for a little while, but I'm not suited for a stationary life anymore."

"You could have found another ship."

"Well, this is where my friends are. My family. It's where I belong."

Camille rested her cheek against the back of the couch, watching Inara intently. The woman was so calm and centered and it was so easy to allow herself to fall into that center. "Why did you leave, then?" she asked, gently pressing against Inara's mind, trying to make her drop her guard.

Inara inhaled, averting her eyes. "There were... complications."

"The captain?" Camille said, allowing her voice to lilt like it was a tentative guess. She opened her eyes wider and idly traced a pattern on the silk, trying to look as innocent as she could.

"In a way. He's a fascinating man, and we...." She stopped talking.

She waited a few beats before meeting Inara's eyes. "It'd never work, huh?"

"No." Inara smiled serenely, but her mind was full of bittersweet thoughts.

"But you care for each other. Or at least he cares for you."

"And I care for him. But, I've chosen my path, my vocation. Being a Companion is more than simply being a prostitute. It's almost a religious calling, and I could no more leave it than Shepherd Book could leave his order."

Camille dropped her eyes, nodding. "But what about when you're older?"

"If the time ever comes when I'm not getting as many clients as I would like--and, believe me, it's not age no just beauty that makes a Companion, so I'm not worried, but if the time should come, I'll return to the Academy and teach."

"So, you'd give up a chance of love?"

Inara sighed. "I care for Mal deeply, but..." She stopped talking for a moment, and in that pause Camille heard and saw things about Mal that shook her. When Inara spoke, she simply said, "What I share and spread among all my clients, Mal wants all to himself. And that sort of devotion and love is... it's more than I want to give to one man."

Swallowing her heart that was suddenly beating in her throat, Camille said, "So, Mal's really selfish, huh?"

"Not at all," she responded immediately. "Mal only wants what he deserves. A woman who sees him as the center of her world, just as he'd see her as the center of his. That sort of devotion is... quite attractive in a man, and I'm flattered that I was almost that woman. But I can't give it back. I can't do it for him."

"He thinks you're a coward," Camille blurted without thinking. Then, she blinked in surprise as something flitted across Inara's mind. "So do you."

Inara's eyes narrowed. "I don't know what Mal thinks," she said carefully. "As for me I suppose, yes, in my darker thoughts I do wonder why I can't allow myself to love one man."

Damn. She was cagey now, alert. She could tell something was going on and was suspicious. Cautiously, Camille eased herself from Inara's mind, cursing herself for being such an idiot. She hadn't meant to say anything she shouldn't know, but she'd been so surprised by the knowledge, it'd just come out.

"I, uh, before Roger. I had boyfriend kind of like that," Camille obfuscated quickly. "It scared me to death, thinking someone could love me that much. So, I left."

"And do you think that's why you got into an abusive relationship?" Inara asked, eyebrow raised. She looked amused and very knowing. Superior, almost.

Camille flushed under those eyes, embarrassed. She'd forgotten that she'd had come clean about all this to Mal, and it was a pretty small ship. News probably traveled quickly. "Um," she said nervously, sitting up. "Okay, there wasn't a Roger."

Inara nodded knowingly, and then said, "That doesn't mean there might not be a pattern of making bad choices in your life. You chose that cover story for a reason."

"Yeah, because it was the one that the captain seemed most comfortable with. I mean, he basically made it all up; I was just goin' along with it."

Inara inclined her head, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps that is all. But still. There just seems to be more to your story than that."

"I was a dancer," Camille said, a little stiffly. "I was hired to do a job on Persephone. It didn't go the way I planned, and I got knocked around a bit."

"By Admiral Lawson."

"Yes."

"See, from everything I know about him, he was a good man, quite unlikely to hurt anyone. I don't understand why you felt the need to kill him."

Camille sighed and pushed her bangs from her forehead. "He wasn't. A good man. And he hurt lots of people, only he managed to keep it hidden." She took a deep breath and then, in much greater detail then she'd used with Mal, explained exactly why Admiral Lawson deserved to die.

By the time she was finished, Inara looked pale and shaken. "You said... you said that Garrison had given him a chance."

"He did. He offered first to take over management of the colony, but allow the taxes and everything the colony would earn to go directly to the admiral, with only a small management fee for himself. Or, rather, the person he was going to put in charge. When that didn't work, Garrison tried one more time, only this time threatening Lawson, to show him what could happen should he choose not to relinquish control or help the colonists. Again, Admiral Lawson ignored the warning, thinking himself untouchable. And so I was sent in. Garrison had already gotten someone to infiltrate Admiral Lawson's staff in order to alter his papers so, in the event of his death, ownership of the colony would be put up for auction with the proceeds going to his family. Then he sent me in."

"Why you? Why not the person already there?"

"He wasn't in the position to do the job. Besides; if something went wrong, suspicion couldn't be cast on him. He's too... public for that." Camille shrugged. "My organization is pretty complex, and we have in different levels of society. I'm a spook; I don't really exist. The man who was at Lawson's does, and he can't afford to be placed under arrest."

"Can you?"

Camille smiled bitterly. "No, I can't. It's even more dangerous for me. But my assignments rarely put me in that kind of danger. I'm very well trained and know how to disappear."

"That's a useful talent," Inara remarked. "But I think it has some downsides."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "I think that, once you get in the habit of disappearing, it's very hard to stop, even when you find something--or someone--worth staying around for."

"Yeah, well, I already thought I had, but he didn't want me." She shouldn't be telling Inara these things, shouldn't be talking about any of it. That was the problem with going by her true name; it was too easy to slip out of whoever she was pretending to be and reveal too much of herself. Although, she'd never been this bad.

"Who?"

"What?"

"Who didn't want you?" Inara asked gently.

She sighed. "I don't...." And then, because it really didn't make sense not to, she said, "It was Garrison."

"Your boss?"

"My everything. He rescued me from the awful place I was being kept at when I was eighteen. He gave me back my life. He taught me what it was to be a woman. He taught me how to fight, how to shoot, how to dance, how to think circles around an enemy. He taught me how to use my gifts to blend in, to disappear by assuming the guise of what people around me wanted to be. He taught me how to love but, when I asked him to love me back, he pulled away from me. So I left and started doing what I do now."

Inara frowned. She seemed to be deep in thought as she poured herself another cup of tea. Then, she said, "Maybe he did what was best for you."

"Right. I think he did what was best for him," Camille said flatly.

"Perhaps. But... for anyone, but especially for one as young as yourself, it's easy to fall in love with someone who's saved you. It's one of the oldest type of stories, the hero and the damsel. It sounds to me, though, that he's not taking advantage of the natural grateful feelings that come out of being saved. He's turned you into a hero in your own right, and he's set you free to follow your own heart. To find your own heart, if you should choose."

"Then why does it feel so much like rejection?"

She smiled gently. "Because you are young. And it does hurt." Inara took a deep breath and said, "But it seems to me that you're beginning to... to see other options again. You're letting Garrison and seeing other options. Other people as possible lovers in the very technical sense of the word, not just for sex."

Was that a come on?

Camille inched a little closer to Inara. "Oh?" she said, eyes lidded coyly. "Do you think so?"

Inara laughed. "Not me, sweetheart, although I'm sure it would be nice. You're a very lovely girl. But it's not me you're looking at, not like that. Not really."

Oh, great, now she was a mind reader, Camille thought grumpily. "Okay." She scooted away from Inara and said, "Then who do you think I am looking at? River?"

"Oh, no. God, are you?"

"No. No, although Simon and Mal both are under the impression. Well, I told Mal that I wasn't interested in her, but I really don't think Simon would believe me if I went up to him and kissed him." She shook her head, thinking about the Ti chi thing that morning. It really wasn't her fault that she and River both had sounded so sated; that's what working out with another psychic did. It's why Camille had invited River to exercise with her; it was very grounding and centering to connect with another person on that psychic level, and Camille didn't get to do it often while she was traveling. And River needed it; she spent so much time drugged on something that only suppressed the problem and feeling like she was about to shatter, she needed to be grounded.

Unfortunately, a lot of times, being grounded and relaxed often made you sound like you were sexually satisfied, especially if you had a dirty mind. Which, apparently, both Simon and Mal did. They needed to get laid.

"You're very close to River, though. It's hard to miss." Inara set her tea cup down and pressed her palms together. "Are you like her? I mean, were you at the Academy?"

Camille was out of her seat and halfway to the door without even realizing she'd moved. Her heart was thundering in her ears, and it was such a stupid, *stupid* reaction, because Inara didn't know *anything* and...

"Camille!"

Camille snapped backwards unexpectedly and crashed into Inara, who'd grabbed her by the wrist. Regaining her balance quickly, she pivoted around to Inara, bringing her right arm down in a hammer punch. Inara grunted and released her grasp; as Camille moved to punch her in the stomach, though, Inara kicked her with a wide sweeping kick, landing on her chin.

"Calm down!" Inara said as she smashed her elbow into Camille's neck, keeping her down. "I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm not going to turn you into the Alliance. I'm your friend, Camille, believe me. I would never do anything to hurt either you *or* River. But you need to calm down."

She moaned softly as her monitor buzzed insider her skull; Inara had managed to knock it hard. It rested right on her spine, nestled under her skull at her occipital bone, and when it was hit, there was *pain*.

"I won't run," she said, rubbing the monitor. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You were scared." She got off Camille and sat next to her, gently running her fingers through Camille's hair.

"Yeah, but, it's not like I've never been found out before," Camille replied, feeling like an idiot. "Besides. Where was I going to go?" Although, even as she said it, she knew. She'd been planning on taking down Wash, locking herself in the cockpit, and flying to the nearest planet. It wasn't the best plan, but she would have been able to improvise as needed along the way.

"Maybe you panicked because you've been letting your guard down a lot around us. That doesn't seem to be something you do very much?"

Camille sat up, still rubbing her neck. "I'm really good at blending in. Becoming new people. I never break character, but River... River's fucking me up big time."

"Why? Because she's psychic?"

"No. I mean... well, no. Because, I have to help her, and in order to do that, I have to let everyone know who I really am. So, I'm slowly breaking out of the character Mal gave me so when I know I'll be able to help River, it won't be such a shock." She looked at Inara, heart pounding. "You can't tell."

"No, of course not." She took Camille's hands in her. "Your hands are so cold, sweetie," she said, rubbing them gently. "Were you at the Academy?"

"No. But I was somewhere like it. Just, there was a different focus for the group I was in." She closed her eyes against the sharp pains in her head; Garrison's doctors had been geniuses when they'd come up with the monitors to help regulate the kid's medication, but they were in such an incontinent place. Unfortunately, they didn't work anywhere else; they needed to be close to the brain but outside the skull, hence the placement. They didn't hurt all the time, but if they were knocked...

"I'm going to lie down for a bit," Camille said, pulling away. "You got me good. I'm highly ranked in martial arts, and you managed to take me down."

Inara rose as Camille did, looking sympathetic. "It's because you weren't thinking clearly. Otherwise, I'd never be able to beat you. You're much faster than I."

"Yeah, well, didn't do me much good." She smiled and turned to leave the room. At the door, she hesitated and said, "Thanks, Inara. For your .... friendship."

"You're welcome, Camille. And I thank you for yours."

She smiled wanly and left the room. Her hand was on her head, and her eyes were mostly closed as the pain in her temples increased.

"Oh," she said, all the air in her lung expelled sharply when she ran into an unyielding body.

"Whoa, you all right?" Mal said, arms coming around her as Camille teetered unsteadily.

She put her hand on his chest to steady herself. When she looked up at him, she found herself blushing, for some strange reason. "Um. Yeah, I'm fine," she said, rubbing her hand slowly over his shirt. It was soft and thin, like it'd been washed so many times, all that was left was the barest, oldest, most frayed threads. Beneath it, his heart beat, slow and steady, thrumming through Camille as it did. "Thanks."

"No problem." He didn't let her go. "Whatcha doin' up here?"

"Visiting Inara. She invited me to stop by to talk."

"Wasn't that about your boyfriend?" He emphasized the word boyfriend meaningfully.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Just because he don't exist doesn't mean that she and I can't talk." Camille smiled suggestively. "Unless you have a problem with it?"

Mal shook his head. "Course not. Why would I?" Then, not waiting for an answer, he asked, "What's this?" He touched her chin gently.

Despite the soft touch, Camille hissed. "Owe."

"What happened? That weren't there before when you go the others."

Damn. "I'd heard that Companions got trained to fight, so I asked Inara to show me some moves. I got a mite too close, and she landed one on me." She smiled in self-deprecation. "Shoulda been more careful."

"She shoulda been." His eyes flicked to the shuttle, and he looked like he might storm in there and have a few words with Inara.

"Captain, can you help me back to my room?" she asked, drawing his attention back. "My head aches, and I want to lie down."

"The doc can give you somethin'... no, that's right. He can't." Mal sighed and let her go, keeping a hand on her elbow. "Anything I can do to help the pain?"

She shook her head slowly, holding it with her hand again. Holding her head didn't do any good, but it comforted her to know that if it fell off, at least she might catch it. She leaned on Mal more than she needed to as they climbed down the stairs to the passenger rooms, but she wanted him to feel like he was needed. Besides, he felt nice and smelled nice, and she liked the way his heartbeat strong and sure. It was comforting. "I'll just take a nap," she said. "Breathe a little. You know they always tell you to breathe when you're hurtin," she added with a grin.

"Hey, you heard me." Mal smiled at her, pleased. "I thought that maybe you were too out of it when you came onboard."

"I heard you. And thanks. I mean, I don't think I ever got a chance to really thank you." Camille pulled away as they made it to her room. Standing nervously in her doorway, she said, "Thanks for... helpin' me when the doc was sewing me up. You didn't have to."

Mal ran his hand through his head and shrugged. "Weren't no one else there to do it."

"I'm sure Zoe coulda held me down just fine."

"Maybe."

Camille smiled tentatively. "Besides. I mean the fact that you still took me on. You didn't have to. You could have given me back my fare and put me back on the Eavesdown Docks. Hell, I weren't even on the ship yet, not really. You carried me on." She took a half step closer and put her hand on his chest again. "You didn't have to."

"What, you think I'd leave a perfectly good passenger with perfectly good money behind? You don't know me very well."

"Actually," she said, smiling fully at him. "I think I do." Then, before her brain kicked back in and stopped her, she leaned forward, pressed a kiss into his lips, and then stepped back. "See you later, Captain." Heart thundering, she stepped inside her room and closed the door firmly, wondering what exactly it was she thought she was doing.

* * *

The knock on Camille's door woke her from her uneasy sleep. Raising her head off her pillow, she called, "Come in."

Simon opened the door and stuck his head in. "Inara and Mal both said you had a headache."

"Yeah." She lowered her head again, briefly closing her eyes.

"Did it come on suddenly?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"No," Camille sighed. "Inara kicked me in the chin and then jammed her elbow into my neck."

There was a beat of silence, and then Simon said, "Ah, yes, I should have known. She does that a lot, beats up on the rest of us. It's very hard to stop her. I guess someone should have warned you."

She opened her eyes, smiling at him. "It's a long story."

"Mmm, I guess." He took a flashlight out of his red bag and shined it in her eyes. "Your pupils are responding normally. You know where you are?"

"Serenity," she said, striving not to roll her eyes. He was just doing his job, after all.

"And you know who you are?" A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Not most of the time."

This time the smile was full fledged. Simon put the flashlight away as he said, "Well, no concussion. That's something to be grateful for. Where's the pain centered?"

"Back of my neck and up through my temples."

"Roll over."

She did as he asked. Her heart was pounding as Simon's hands felt the muscles in her neck, checking for damage, feeling the bones. His fingers climbed up her vertebrate until they reached the base of her skull and pushed against the monitor.

"Huh," he said, fingers stilling.

Camille bit her bottom lip, feeling queasy. Feigning innocence, she asked, "What?"

"You seem to have something here." He felt it carefully, trying to dislodge.

"Um, yeah. It's, uh... Some sort of frontier medicine or something. Got hurt real bad when I was a kid, and that's how the fixed me up."

His fingers gently moved around the edges of the monitor, feeling the size and shape of it. "How were you hurt?"

"Kicked in the head by a cow. Back of my skull. Doctor stuck a metal screw or somethin' in there."

"It doesn't feel like a screw."

"Maybe it's a clamp. I don't rightly know." She moved away from him and rolled back onto her back. "That hurts," Camille said, allowing her voice to go breathlessly pouty.

Simon noticed the change immediately and sat back. His eyes narrowed as he studied her, and his hands were pressed lightly against his thighs. "Sorry," he said slowly. "I didn't realize. Inara hit it, didn't she?"

"Yes." Her heart was pounding as she tried to figure out what to do, how to distract Simon from the monitor. In less time than it took for her to blink, she had four fully fleshed out plans, and only two had to do with sex.

Turns out, though, she didn't need any of them. Simon's face became a mask of sympathy, and he said, "I must have hurt."

"It did. But it'll be fine."

"If it bothers you, you'll tell me?"

No. "Of course, Doctor."

He smiled and turned back to his bag. "I want to check your stitches, if you don't mind. And then I'll try to do something for your headache. Lie down."

Camille did as he asked, shifting as he pulled her shirt up. Her heart rate was still up, which tended to make her skin feel over-sensitive, so when he touched her, it seemed as if she could feel the ridges of his fingerprints.

Simon was careful and methodical as he examined the stitches, but cool and utterly professional. It was almost too bad; he was so pretty. And it'd been a long time since Camille had slept with anyone. It was torture, almost, being trapped on a ship full of such beautiful people. And, of course, the irony was, the only person who might give in and sleep with her was the one person she didn't want to get too near. Jayne was just so *loud* and she knew he'd just get louder during sex. Being pummeled with loud, physic grunts wasn't her idea of a good time.

Sex with Inara would mean she could sink into that cool, sereneness and just lose herself. Sex with Simon would be like poetry. Sex with Mal....

*Mal was on the bridge, talking with Wash. His mind, though, was on her. About how soft her skin was, how pretty her eyes, and how absolutely terrifying she was. He didn't do things like this, not ever. He wasn't one to give into attraction to anyone, it just wasn't his way. His life was too complicated, what with trying to keep ahead of the Alliance, two fugitives on board, his feelings for Inara that, despite them coming to an understanding, were still there. Mal had his ship, his life, and his own problems. He didn't need any other complications.

Besides, she was obviously too young. She didn't need an old man like him, especially one with all his baggage. Most of the time, he was still in Serenity Valley, free only at the end of the day when he knew he was still flying. She didn't need someone like that.

Except, underneath all that strength and intelligence there was a hint of something. Something fragile and damaged, just like him. Something...*

"Camille?"

Camille inhaled sharply as Simon's voice pulled her from Mal's mind. Good thing, too, since he'd seemed to start being aware of her presence. Mal wasn't psychic, but he was pretty sensitive. He'd already pulled her into his dream once, and now he'd almost caught her in his mind again. She had to be more careful.

"You all right?"

"Yeah. I just drifted for a moment. How am I?"

He smiled and pulled her shirt down. "Fine. You're healing very well, actually; I'll be able to remove the stitches in a few days."

"Good. I'm getting tired of feeling like a quilt."

"Well, if you stick around with this crew, you might have to get used to it. Sometimes it seems like I have to sew someone up every time we touch down on a planet." He reached into his bag and pulled out a small jar.

"They're that bad?"

Simon nodded. "The captain especially seems to have a special talent for getting shot or stabbed or cut somehow. Once, he even lost his ear."

Her eyebrows hit her hairline. "Lost his ear?"

"I got it back on, of course. After all, it was just another day on the good ship Serenity."

Camille laughed.

Smiling at her, Simon unscrewed the lid. "I'm not exaggerating. Sometimes I think they purposefully walk into the path of bullets just to prove their masculinity or something."

"Well, Jayne might feel some have missed the fact he's a man, what with the name and all. What's that?"

"Peppermint oil. I went on the Cortex earlier to see what sort of advice I could find for pain management without drugs. I know that this isn't a tension headache or anything, but I thought we could try it anyway. Might take your mind of the pain, at least." He dabbed his finger in the oil, then rubbed it on her temples and under her chin.

Camille inhaled deeply; it smelled wonderful, although it had the effect of making her hungry, too. As a child, she'd always loved sucking on peppermint balls and candy canes; she would save her candy canes, in fact, in her sock drawer, stockpiling them so she could eat them all year round.

"Any affect?"

"Not really." She closed her eyes, inhaling again. "Brings back memories, though."

"Scent is one of the most memorable senses," Simon agreed. "Reminds me of Christmas back home. River and I used to get up early to have more time to play with our new toys."

"You didn't look for them early?"

"River did. Always found them, too. I wanted to put off knowing as long as possible, but not River. She never understood the meaning of patience."

"Yeah." She wasn't agreeing to River having no patience, and Simon seemed to understand that.

He smiled at her with a sense of melancholy longing for what was lost. Then he shifted and said, "I, um. While I researching, I came across a mention of pressure points and how they can be useful in easing pain."

"Uh-huh?"

"Mostly is seems like a massage, but I'm supposed to concentrate on specific parts."

"Sounds dirty," Camille said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"You're kind of a brat, you know that?" Simon told her.

This time, she batted her eyelashes.

"God," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "You're just like..." He stopped abruptly, a wave of melancholy washing over his face.

River. She still was a brat, actually, but she probably wasn't stable enough most of the time to display it. It was in her mind, though, and Camille loved it about her.

"Turn around and back up a little bit. I'm going to put my legs around you, is that all right?"

"Just don't get fresh."

He gave a kind of snorting laugh and moved closer to her. Gently, he placed his thumbs at the base of her skull, just on either side of her monitor.

"Okay, tilt your head back," he said softly.

She complied, closing her eyes as she did. It wasn't taking the pain away, exactly, but it still felt good. His hands held her in a gentle grip and his thumbs moved slowly but firmly, sending tingles down her spine.

"Breathe deeply," Simon instructed. "In through your nose for the count of four, out through your mouth for six."

"All right." She did as he asked, feeling the muscles in her shoulders slowly unknot. The longer they stayed that way, the more comfortable and relaxed she became. The headache began to fade slowly, although she could still feel where Inara had hit her. But the rest melted away until she was leaning limply against Simon.

Utterly relaxed, her mind once again began to expand, freed of the barriers that she used normally.

*... why she reminds me of River,* Simon was thinking. *She's nothing like her. Smart, not brilliant. Graceful, but she doesn't float like River does. Damaged, but not ... nearly broken. And yet, there's something... something in her eyes, in that sad, melancholy smile that's just like my sister. And of course Mal has to keep watching her like that. Like he used to watch me when he thought I wasn't looking. Not that I mind, exactly, not really, except I know he won't take a chance with her either. And he needs to take a chance on someone. If he doesn't, I'll stay trapped, wanting him and...*

She didn't think. She just turned suddenly in his arms and kissed him.

Simon let out a startled yelp and pushed her away.

"Simon," Camille said breathlessly, but he cut her of.

"Didn't you *just* kiss Mal?"

Camille blinked. "How do you know that?"

"It's a small ship, Camille."

"Apparently."

Simon shrugged. "River saw you and told Kaylee. Kaylee thinks it's the best thing in the world and immediately ran to gush about it to the captain who wasn't too happy about it."

She winced and pulled her legs into her body. "He's mad?"

He rolled his eyes, and then stopped, looking at her penetratingly. Some of his indignation seemed to fade away. "Well," he said. "Not at you. And maybe angry isn't the right word. He's embarrassed. Mal's a very private man, you see, and being attracted to you and having all of us know is embarrassing to him."

"Don't seem like the type to let a little thing like lust get to him," Camille said, resting her chin on her knees.

"Well." Simon drew out the word like he wasn't sure if he should say anything or not. Then he sighed. "I don't think it's just simple lust. Mal's certainly someone who appreciates attractive people He's certainly had something going on with Inara I first came on, although they never actually did anything. And I'm fairly sure that he's only slept with one person since I've been on board. He has... Not standards, but..."

"Principles."

"Yes, exactly. He doesn't articulate them, exactly, other than to say he won't get involved with someone on his crew. Actually, he's very against intercrew relationships," Simon said dryly.

"Which is obvious by the fact everyone is single, of course." She lifted her head. "Are you in love with him?"

He hesitated. "Why do you ask?"

"It just seems like, maybe... I saw you this morning. You were sharing the same coffee mug; that's kind of intimate."

"Well, we've danced around it. Have been dancing around it for about a year now. The attraction was always there, even before Inara left, but after...." He shrugged. "I started pushing and for awhile, he seemed like he was weakening. But, in the end, he told me it wasn't a good idea, we weren't right for each other, and couldn't be what the other needed."

"What did you need him to be?"

He shrugged. "Mal. There, when he was available." A smile crossed his face. "Willing."

"And what did he need you to be?"

"Uncomplicated."

Camille laughed. "Then I'm no threat. I'm nothing if extremely complicated. More than most."

"Have you met my sister?"

"True." She lifted her head. "Why did you give up on Mal? I mean, if you loved him, surely there was something you could do."

"Sometimes the best thing to do is admit that, no matter how you feel about someone, it won't work out. I care for him deeply, but I can't ask him to be what he is not. And he's not willing to be with me, so I have to respect that."

Camille gazed at him, letting his words sink. They hit uncomfortably close to home, resonating inside her and, after a moment, to her horror, she started to cry.

Simon looked shocked. "Camille," he said helplessly. He tentatively put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed. "I'm sorry, I.... What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she said shakily, rubbing her eyes. "I just...." She stopped, trembling hard as another wave of sobs wracked through her.

"Don't cry, please. Camille..."

The door opened and River entered, face like a storm cloud. "You made her cry!" she said accusingly. She sat on the bed next to her and drew Camille into an embrace.

"I didn't mean to," Simon protested. "We were just talking."

"Hey, what's going... Camille!" Kaylee exclaimed. She rushed into the room and climbed next to Camille and River. "Honey, what's the matter?"

"Simon made her cry," River told her.

"Ah, sweetie, don't mind Simon. He's gotta good heart and all, but sometimes the dumbest things come out of his mouth," Kaylee said, stroking Camille's hair. "He don't mean nothin' by it."

"I didn't say anything wrong!"

"He didn't." Camille wiped her eyes and smiled at Kaylee. "It's really not his fault. We was just talkin'."

"You sure he didn't say nothin' that was supposed to sound charmin' but ended up being hurtful?" Kaylee shot Simon a squinch-nosed look and sweet smile.

"I'm sure," Camille assured her. She took Kaylee's hand and squeezed, leaning against River for comfort. "Sorry 'bout all this, Simon. Didn't mean to turn into a baby on you."

Simon just shrugged and shook his head. "It's all right, Camille. I will leave you three alone now, though. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

"I will."

He left, closing the door.

"What did he say?" River asked. She was rubbing Camille's arm, and her mind was open and weaving in and out of Camille's, calming her.

Camille closed her eyes. "It doesn't matter. He didn't mean..." She sighed and opened her eyes. "Have you ever been in love with someone who didn't love you back?"

"I thought I did," Kaylee replied. "When Simon first came on, I thought he was the prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on." She smiled, and it lit up her face. "He was such a gentleman, and so ... just shiny. But no matter what I did, he never seemed to notice me. Or, worse, he did, only he wouldn't act on it. Or he'd say the dumbest, most hurtful things. Sometimes, I felt like I'd just die."

"Did you ever get him?"

She laughed. "For a little bit. And then I realized that he wasn't the one I wanted." Kaylee's smile was full of love as she took River's hand and kissed it. "Of course, River might be better able to ask about bein' in love with someone who doesn't notice. Or, actually, I just didn't notice my own feelings 'till she showed me."

River rose and bent over Camille so she could kiss Kaylee. "Never worried. Always knew you were mine."

Camille sighed again and crawled out of River's lap. "I had mine," she said, pulling a pillow to her chest. "I had him and I was so happy. I thought he was happy, too. But then, one day, he just ended it. No explanation at all. I still don't know why. There must be somethin' wrong with me, but I don't know what. He never said, so every time I look in the mirror or say something or, God, even eat, I think to myself, 'Is *this* what drove him away? Is this what disgusted him?'"

"Ah, there's nothin digustin' about you, Camille," Kaylee protested. "I'm sure that he just ... realized he didn't deserve you. Or somethin'."

"But I was happy with him."

Kaylee's frown deepened. "Well. Sometimes I guess things just aren't right. I mean, I know you love him, but it's a big 'verse. The right person's out there."

"I want the one I had," she said.

River shook her head. "He drew you away from who you really were. He knew you needed someone to let you be who you are, and it wasn't him." River met Camille's eyes. "Divided. He divided you, even though he tried to make you whole. Camille is just another mask."

"No."

"Yes. Kathleen isn't dead."

"*Who* is Kathleen?" Kaylee asked, sounding exasperated.

River didn't answer, but continued looking pointedly at Camille.

Holding River's eyes, Camille simply said, "It don't matter who Kathleen *was*. She ain't no more." Then, she climbed off her bed and said, "I'm going to see if there's anythin' to eat. Seems like it's about mealtime anyway." Turning quickly, she left before River could say another word.

* * *

Mal had successfully managed not to think about Camille and her kiss for ten minutes when she walked into the mess with red eyes and tear stains on her face.

"Why you cryin'?" he asked with more concern than he wanted to admit he felt. He just managed to stop from touching her, instead hooking his thumbs in his suspenders and rocking back on his feet.

A frustrated look passed over her face and she scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Don't matter," she said shortly. "I'm fine."

"You sure? I mean, it's just... you look upset. And you were, you know." He glanced away from her, feeling awkward. "Cryin'."

"I do that sometimes, okay? But I'm fine. I was talking to Simon and..."

"Simon made you cry?" Not that Mal was all that surprised; Simon had a way of saying the worst things at the worst times. Back when Kaylee had a crush on him, Simon had managed to hurt her bad quite a few times with is words.

And when he'd been goin' after Mal... it was actually funny how many times the boy stuck his foot so far into his mouth it practically came out the other end. Luckily, Mal had been amused instead of hurt, even turned on, in some ways, even though he'd resisted Simon's advances, ultimately.

"Don't take him personally," Mal told her.

"No, Simon didn't..."

"What, Simon shootin' his mouth off again?" Jayne asked, coming into the dining room behind Camille.

Mal watched as Camille stiffened and stepped away from Jayne, bringing her closer to Mal. A look of pain crossed her face, and she raised her hand to her head like it was still aching.

"No," Camille replied, half turning to Jayne. Mal noticed that she didn't look him full on in the face, and she leaned away from him as well. "He didn't say anything..."

"Besides, whatcha want a pretty little puff-ball like him for anyway?" Jayne leered at her and stepped closer to her. "What you need is a real man. One who don't waste no time trying to come up with stupid, fancified words. One that can you show a good time. When we get to Dyton Colony..."

"Jayne!" Mal said sharply.

Jayne looked at him in obvious confusion. "What?"

He was just about to tell Jayne to go sit down, when both Jayne and Camille suddenly jerked in opposite directions. Jayne stumbled a few steps back, and Camille practically flew away from him and into Mal's arms.

"What was that?" Mal asked, arms closing around Camille's body. She was trembling and breathing heavily; something was going on.

"Nothin', Captain," Jayne mumbled. He looked confused, more so than normal. Shaking his head, he turned and walked off to the table.

"What happened?" Mal asked again. He turned Camille around in his arms, but didn't let go.

She was still trembling and she was pale. "I'm not sure," she said softly. Her eyes met his after a moment and, suddenly, time seemed to start movin' very slowly.

Damn. He wanted her. As much as he didn't want to want her, he did. And it weren't just because she was pretty or nothing. There was just something in her eyes. Something that was familiar and comforting and... home-like. And yet, she weren't, she was mysterious and dangerous and she... was just right, somehow. It was all very strange; Mal couldn't quite explain why he was so drawn to her.

He should let her to. No, he should push her away from him and then kick her off ship as soon as they got to Beamonde. He didn't need another complication in her life.

But he didn't. Instead of doing what was smart, Mal kept his arms around her and looked into those eyes. "You're not sure?"

"I got dizzy." The tone of her voice completely changed. Where before she was tentative and distant, now she was firm and sure. Camille looked at him almost defiantly, and Mal knew that she was lying to him.

"Dizzy."

"Yeah. Dizzy. I told you, I had a headache earlier. Simon came in to help me with it, and I got upset, started cryin'. Just now, I got a little dizzy. I'm fine." She pushed his arms off her and stepped away.

"Right, and, how again did he make you cry?" Mal asked, angry.

"Kissed the girl and made her cry," River sang as she and Kaylee walked in.

"She kissed me!" Simon protested, right on River's heels.

Any blood left in Camille's face fled. Her eyes darted to Mal's, huge and guilty.

It shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't *matter*. It wasn't anything, and *she* wasn't anything, and yet....

"Seems like you really get around," Mal said stiffly. "Maybe I shoulda left you and Jayne alone for awhile, unless you already done him."

"Mal...."

"It wasn't like that, Mal," Simon said, stepping next to Camille.

He didn't know who he was angrier at. Camille for getting him into this mess, or Simon for knowin' him too well. Knowin' that he was attracted to her, and knowin' he didn't like hearin' that she was kissin' everyone. Knowin' that...

"Don't rightly care," he said, stepping around them.

Simon grabbed him by the arm. "I helped get rid of her headache. She didn't believe I could, and when it went away, she was grateful. It was a spur of the moment thing, she acted without thinking. Out of happiness."

He snorted. "Sorry, Simon." He met Camille's eyes and said, "But she's not that kind of girl."

Camille's face flushed until it was almost the same deep red color as her hair. Without another word, she turned, chin tilted up, and went to the table.

Mal watched her go, well aware of Simon's accusing eyes on him. He tried to ignore them, tried to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt at hurting Camille, but, gorramit, she deserved it. She was goin' around kissing all his crew, and that was just...

"That was unfair of you," Simon said quietly.

"No, I don't rightly think it was. She ain't the kind of girl who just goes around kissin' people without purpose. When she does it, she means it."

"You don't know that. You barely know her."

Mal frowned, watching as Camille talked softly with River and Kaylee, the fevered blush slowly fading from her face as Kaylee charmed her with jokes and stories and River stroked her arm, eyes, as always, locked on Camille's face.

Simon was right, Mal did barely know Camille. She'd been in his life only a week or so. They talked every day without sayin' what was truth, not exactly truth at any rate. But what they didn't say was almost too much for Mal to bear, and what they did say held more meaning than Mal wanted it to.

"Yes," he finally said softly. "I do."

* * *

Dinner was almost okay. Somehow, she and Mal ended up sitting right across from each other, which meant the spent almost the entire meal looking at each other. Camille tried not to go into Mal's mind, but it was impossible. First off, she was sitting right next to River, which amplified her powers. Second, she wanted to make things right between them, even though she didn't know how. Third...

She loved his mind.

It wasn't like Inara's, all calm and beautiful, like silk and satin. His mind was comfortable, though. Well worn flannel and thick, warm blankets. And it was familiar. Truth was, she liked it in there. It was like coming home.

So, as Book told stories, and Kaylee chattered on about various things, Camille and Mal had a silent and unacknowledged conversation. She weaved through his mind, catching his confusion about her and his anger at her loose lips. He caught how uncomfortable he was by his attraction, how disturbed it made him, and how he couldn't wait for her to leave even as he wondered how he could get her to stay on for a bit longer.

And, in turn, Camille apologized and tried to get him to understand that her moving in on Simon had been act of desperation. And that she wasn't going to hurt anyone or change anything. She was going to help, somehow. Help. And she didn't... except she did... but she wasn't going to complicate his life any further.

Except, she knew it was already too late.

"Camille? Hey! Camille!" Kaylee shook her.

Startled, she blinked and turned her head. Everyone was clearing off their place, dinner obviously over. She and Mal were the only ones not moving, stuck as they were, staring at each other. "Um, yeah?"

"Wanna play a game?" she asked, a knowing smile on her face. "Or were you and the captain already playing somethin'?"

Her face heated again, and Camille swore internally. If River wasn't here, she wouldn't be blushing so much, but, gorramit, with the stronger psychic around, her control was shot all to hell. It was just like bein' around Prophet, only he had control over his powers, so he just messed with her to be an asshole.

"Yeah, okay." She rose and went to the sink, giving her plate over to Simon, whose turn it was to do dishes.

"I'm sorry," he said softly as he took her plate. "I could talk to him."

"And say what?" Camille asked. "There ain't no way to make any of this better. It's all my fault anyway. Shouldn't have kissed him. Or you."

"Why did you kiss me, anyway?"

She sighed and tried to think of a way to explain it without going into too much detail. Before she could tell any of them who and what she was, she had to talk to both Kaylee and Garrison. And Garrison would probably want to wait a few days after that, even; the whole base had been a mess after Prophet had been brought in, and it'd taken months to figure out how to get him under control, since what was done to him was different from the rest. And who knows what they did to River? There was no guarantee what worked on Prophet worked with River, since no one treatment seemed to work for all of them.

Plus, there was still the whole androgen blocker thing she had to suss out.

God. She was beginning to think in Mal's speech patterns.

"I like... people," she finally said. "And it's been awhile. Mal's a tough nut to crack, and I know he won't... Anyway. Your hands are so nice, and when you were close to me I just stopped thinking, and...."

"How old are you?"

She shrugged. "Twenty." About. "Why?"

"I'm just wondering. I know when you're young, your hormones act up, and I thought that that may be what's happening." He leaned forward. "You do know there are... ways other than trying to seduce others to help with the..."

"I know." Masturbation wouldn't help. What Camille wanted wasn't physical pleasure so much as intimate contact with another body and mind. She wanted to sink into someone during sex and release some of the tension inside her mind that was building up. "But I... I'll think about it."

"You might want to ask Inara for help. She, uh, might have... implements to help you, uh..." He trailed off, blushing.

Camille grinned and put her hand on his arm. "Thanks, Simon. You're a good doctor. And a good friend."

"You're welcome. Now, I really need to start with these dishes, or I'll never be done. Besides," he added, lowering his voice. "You might not want to be seen talking to me too much."

"I'm not interested in Mal," Camille added in the same low voice.

"Keep trying to convince yourself of that, then, because no one else believes you."

"I think you might be the brat."

"It runs in the family."

She rolled her eyes and turned from him. Everyone was still in the room, except for Inara, which wasn't unusual. A game of cards had started up at the table; Mal glanced at her partly in invitation when she passed, but she shook her head. For better or worse, she was going to be playing checkers with Kaylee and River. She was fairly certain that she and River could play without getting into a fight. For the most part, River was fairly even tempered, but she had a competitive streak, too. And her mind was trained completely differently from Camille's, so when they played strategy games, it was hard to predict what River would do. She was sneaky and stealthy and found patterns and jumps in the game that Camille didn't always see.

That wasn't to say, though, that Camille couldn't snow River under in her own way. Her training had been in combat and stealth assault. It was easier to use when playing chess, but checkers took strategy to win, too. As long as she remembered to view it as passing through enemy terrain--instead of targets to take down--she did fine.

"This isn't fair!" Kaylee complained about twenty minutes into the game. "Y'all keep blocking my moves; I can't get through."

"Sorry, Kaylee," Camille said, jumping a path that took her to the opposite side of the board. "Good thing you ain't the pilot; we'd never get anywhere."

River frowned at Camille. "Don't be mean." She moved, blocking Camille and opening up a path for Kaylee.

So that's the way it's going to be, Camille thought.

River's lips curved and she watched as Kaylee leapt a space. "No power in the verse," she mumbled.

Obviously, it was some kind of private joke, because Kaylee smiled and kissed her on the cheek. River turned her head, and kissed Kaylee properly; it deepened, River's fingers sliding through Kaylee's hair and holding her.

A pang went through Camille as she watched them. They were so obviously in love, so obviously a matched pair. As infatuated as Camille had been with Garrison, she'd never really felt like that. She was his lover, not his equal. Not matched.

She sighed and glanced away from them. Predictably, her eyes met Mal. They both stiffened and looked away, but a moment later, Camille felt her eyes pulled back to him.

He was looking at her, too. His eyes were deep, dark. Tumultuous. It made Camille's stomach churn and skin buzz.

Abruptly, she rose. "I need to..." Without finishing her sentence, Camille left the dining room.

What the hell was goin' on with her? She wasn't like this, really. She didn't... fall for random men, not like this. Yeah, she got attracted to them, but not with people who were so adamant about not bein' with her. When she was with someone, she liked to be in charge, at least of the whole seduction part. But Mal wasn't someone who could exactly be seduced, not like most men.

And she found that really attractive, too.

"Camille. Camille!"

Startled, she turned. Kaylee was running down the hall, hair flying behind her. "Hey," she said, coming up to Camille. She placed her hand on her arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure? You left real fast there. Did River and me make you uncomfortable?" Kaylee looked worried.

"No, not uncomfortable," Camille said truthfully. "Lonely, I guess."

Kaylee nodded sympathetically. "Sorry. Really, I am. I know that you seem...well. Lonely. What with kissin' both Mal and Simon and lookin' at River and Inara all the time."

"Kaylee, I swear..."

"Oh, I know." She smiled brightly. "I trust her, and I trust you. And I know River's real nice to look at. And y'all seem to have so much in common and everything, that I can understand why you're always lookin' at her."

Well, partly. Camille was fine with letting her think that until she knew it was safe to tell everyone about who she was. "Yeah."

"Anyway, I'm sorry we started ignoring you. It's just with River, sometimes I just gotta take what I can get, you know?"

Oh, interesting. "Uh, no. What do you mean?" Camille asked, trying to sound curious without being suspicious about it.

Kaylee blushed and ducked her head. "It's nothin'."

Camille wasn't going to let her get away with that, though. She stepped closer to Kaylee, her hand closing on Kaylee's arm. "No. Tell me," she said with the weight of her mind pressing against Kaylee's.

The effect was immediate. Kaylee's eyelids drooped and a calm, sleepy expression of peace fell over her face like a nightshade. "It's just," she said in a low, steady voice, "River and me don't fool around much. Kiss, sure, but that's it."

"So you've never had sex?" She couldn't have planed this better if she'd tried.

"No, we have. But... she don't seem to care about it much. Like, she likes touching me and everything, but when I do her... it's like she don't even feel it or nothin'."

"She's never come."

Kaylee shook her head. "Don't know what I'm doing wrong, either. I was always good at it before. And it's not like I can talk to anyone 'bout it. Simon's her brother, not just her doctor, and he and I almost were... you know. And Inara... Lord, I was in love with her for so long, and she was hurt when I got together with River, so I couldn't talk to her. So, no one else knows. They all just figure..."

Camille nodded and let Kaylee go. "Well, don't worry about it," she said lightly. "What River went through probably set her back a few years. Give her a bit, and I'll bet she'll be more than enough for you to handle."

Kaylee blushed deeply and looked away. "Maybe. Um..."

"I was just going to get a book," she said quickly. "I feel like reading for awhile."

"Yeah, okay," Kaylee replied gratefully. With a quick smile of goody-bye, she practically fled back to the dining room.

Camille smiled and went into her room. That answered that question. River definitely had the androgen blocker still in, fuck the Alliance bastards. The androgen blocker had to be the worst thing ever invented. It was just a tiny little tube inserted under the arm of each female the Alliance had been experimenting on; the males had something similar, only it was a different hormone and in a different place. According to the doctor back at the base, the purpose was not only to keep everyone's mind focused on their objectives and keep their psychic powers open. And, as she'd remarked to River before, sex really helped keep psychic powers from getting too out of control.

They all had to get their blocker removed before Garrison and the doctors could figure out the correct mix of chemicals to use to keep them under control. That could take weeks. And once the androgen blocker was out of the system, the body tended to overcompensate. Hence Garrison sleeping with her. Hence the presence of a Companion at the base. Hence the hyper-sexuality of ever kid at the base which led to a lot of encounters but very few relationships.

Which, of course, left all of them relatively alone and longing for something that none of them would admit.

Camille wanted a lover. A real one. But she was ultimately afraid to make herself that vulnerable. Years of being a guinea pig, being experimented on, cut open, and toyed with did that to a person.

She grabbed a book and her pocket computer, and went back up to the dining room. Zoe and Wash had disappeared, and Book was now reading is Bible. Simon was sitting with Jayne and Mal, playing cards. When Camille walked in, she saw Mal make abort and attempt to glance at her; the next moment, his hand sort of casually brushed over Simon's.

Simon slapped his hand away. "Don't."

"What?" Mal asked innocently.

"Ni juede wo hen ben ma?" Simon replied. He cocked his head towards Camille and added, "Don't use me."

"Thought you wanted to be used by him," Jayne leered. "Every night, more than once."

Camille sat on the couch and opened her book, listening and watching the boys.

"Jayne," snapped Mal

"We ain't doing nothing but playing cards, Captain. I ain't gonna talk all pretty right now. Dong ma?"

Mal held Jayne's eyes a moment before nodding. "Dong ma. Sorry, Simon."

"You're the one who started it," Simon muttered. Then an evil smile crossed his face and he put down his cards.

Both Jayne and Mal swore and folded.

"Where's River and Kaylee?" Camille asked, hooking her legs over the arm of the chair.

"They went to bed," Simon said, cheeks turning red.

Poor Simon. If only he knew the truth. If he was embarrassed now, imagine what would happen in a few weeks--months?--when the blocker was moved and River really did become a sexual being.

Camille had never had an older brother, even in her old life. The closest person who might qualify for that position was Prophet, and their relationship wasn't exactly what a brother and sister's should be.

Shrugging that thought off, she opened her book and started reading. It was an old book, one recommended to her by Garrison ages ago. The story took place on Earth-that-Was and dealt with cloning and humans playing God. It was a little pointed in some way, but, on the other hand, at least they were cloning extinct animals and not humans. Not only was it exciting, but the characters were interesting. She just wished she really could know what dinosaurs looked like.

"Hey," Simon said softly.

She blinked and looked up. The dining room was empty except for the two of them, and the lights were dimmed. "Hey. What happened?"

"Jayne and Mal left awhile ago. I got stuck with putting everything away."

"I would helped."

"You seemed absorbed in your book." He sat next to her. "Is it good?"

"Yeah. Do you want to borrow it when I'm done?"

He nodded. "I often find myself longing for something new to read. It's not often I have the time or opportunity to browse a well-stocked bookstore, and Mal, though he tries to remember, doesn't always get the chance."

"You two have a lovely relationship," she said sincerely. "All of you. Like a family."

"What about you?"

Sighing, she shook her head. "I don't come from this. I don't belong here."

After a moment of silence, Simon placed his hand on her shoulder and said, "I think you do, actually." Then, squeezing her shoulder, he rose, saying, "Good-night," as he left the room.

Night was, of course, entirely subjective in space. As near as she could tell, they'd wake up tomorrow in time to arrive at Dyton Colony for lunch. It was something she both loved and loathed about traveling.

Rising, she walked through the silent ship to the cockpit. It was empty, controls on auto. According to the computer, they were twelve hours away from their destination. Definitely time to check in.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she pulled her computer out of her pocket. She took a deep breath and folded her legs under her body. Then, she turned it on.

The communication device that allowed her to talk to base anywhere in the quadrant was based on the same technology as the cortex. The only difference was, she didn't need a cortex account to use it. Everything was routed through the monitor on her occipital bone, giving her instant access to base should she need it. It also allowed Garrison and the doctors to monitor all the time, ready to send out someone to fetch her should she get into trouble.

It was a blessing and a curse. Freedom and prison.

She should get this over with.

Taking the stylus out of its holding slot at the top of the screen, she punched in her code.

The screen flipped. "This is Base Camp," Garrison's smooth, soft voice said.

"Agent CAM462 reporting in."

The screen cleared and Garrison appeared. He was as handsome as ever, eyes pale gray, short brown hair falling over his forehead, sensuous lips almost hidden by his neat mustache and goatee. Just the sight of him made Camille's heart skip a beat, even though, immediately after, the image of dark blond hair and deep blue eyes skirted through her mind.

Uncomfortable, she pushed it away.

"Camille." Garrison sounded relieved. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." She didn't know what else to say about herself. Then she remembered the first rule of reporting in: tell any and all injuries right away. "My monitor was hit earlier today. I got a headache from it, but I think I'm all right. No alarm went off."

Garrison's eyes fell away from her, and she knew he was checking the state of the hardware inside her head. "It's functioning normally," he said after a moment. "You should be fine. What about the level three alert from last week?" He looked back up at her.

She shrugged. "I ended up having problems with the admiral. He stabbed me, and by the time I got help, I'd lost so much blood, I need a transfusion. Then I passed out. I've been fine since."

"Good. Where are you?"

"On a ship called Serenity, about twelve hours out of Dyton Colony."

"I have a routine pick-up there," Garrison said after a moment. "Charles Thomas has specs for a new terraforming method the Alliance is trying. You can go as yourself and drop it off at the next planet with a contact."

She nodded and opened a new screen on her computer. "All right. Anything on Beaumonde?"

"Oh, good, I was hoping you'd make it there soon. Within the next week?"

"Captain said we should only be on Dyton a few hours as most. We'll hit Beaumonde in a couple days."

Garrison nodded and punched a few buttons. A moment later, information began scrawling across her screen. "Dr. Edwin Rutledge is a highly placed scientist with the Alliance's research and development. His specialty is bioengineering. He was involved with the Special Forces project."

Camille's heart froze. She was a Special Force project, only she never thought of herself as such. Not if she could help it. "Oh?"

"Yes. I need you to get some information out of his computer. The entire hard drive, actually. Sources have informed me that he has some in-depth files on what the Special Forces project. Once on Beaumonde, you'll meet up with Fredrick. He'll give you the jump drive."

"And the specs of the place?"

Garrison nodded. "But this will be a lot easier than normal. Rutledge is having a party, and you have an invite. You'll be inside, and, once there, I know you'll be able to get up to his private room and get what we need. As soon as you do, leave the planet."

She nodded. "Mind if I stay with the ship I'm on? If possible, of course."

"Who's the captain?"

"Malcolm Reynolds."

Garrison punched it into his computer, eyes flickering as information moved passed him. "Ah. Good man. Sergeant for the Independents, highly regarded. Managed to get out of Alliance hands alive and without much notice. Fought at the Battle of Serenity Valley. Ah. Yes, he's a very good match for you." He looked up. "If I were you, I'd stay with him as long as possible. Your philosophies on life and the Alliance are closely aligned."

"Yeah," she said faintly. "I noticed. Look, um... There's something else. A girl. One of us." Us did not include Garrison, but he knew what she meant.

Immediately, his entire attitude changed. He sat up, alert, all business, very serious. "Name?"

"River Tam."

He typed it in and was silent for a long moment. "How is she?" he asked after reading the information.

"Okay. Mostly stable, mostly coherent. But it's obvious that there's something wrong with her." She shifted in her seat. "Her brother's got her on some kind of medication, but mostly what it seems to do is dampen her abilities somewhat. It's a quick fix, not a solution. And she's really powerful." Camille licked her lips. "She's like Prophet."

Garrison nodded, eyes focused on the information before him. "Yes. Project Blue."

"What?"

He looked up at her. "We uncovered new information about the difference in schools. There were two projects: Green and Blue. Green was training special forces for their military, groups of assault teams to go in and devastate. Project Blue were being trained to be elite assassins. They were trained and experimented on a bit differently, as the focus was more on the individual than leadership and battle tactics."

She didn't want to hear this. Didn't want to know, and definitely didn't want to be reminded. "Oh." Camille swallowed and wished she hadn't brought this up. "She knows about me, of course, but I haven't told anyone else. Not exactly. But because she's so powerful, I keep slipping out of character. The Companion on board has pretty much figured it out, but the rest, I don't know." Clearing her throat, she added, "River still has the androgen blocker in."

"Wonderful," Garrison said dryly.

"She does have a girlfriend, though."

He looked up. "Well, that's something. How old is she?"

"Eighteen, I think."

"She's further along than you were, but she's been out for awhile. This will be interesting when we remove the blocker." He sighed. "Don't say anything to them until after Beaumonde. We really need that information, and I want to gather more information about River and Project Blue. Trinity just cracked into one of the Academy's computers, so we got a lot of new information we're still processing. Keep in contact with me over the next few days, and I'll give you the all clear when I'm ready to bring her in. What's her brother's name?"

"Simon."

He read the new information, then nodded again. "Oh, I could definitely use him, if he's looking for a change of venue. His resume is amazing." Garrison hit a few buttons. "I'll see what I can do about getting his money back, since his accounts were crashed."

"Garrison, who got her out, anyway?"

"There was a group a few years ago, Mason Greer ran it. His son was taken by the Alliance and he began to solicit donations to get his son and others out. Unfortunately, he didn't have the resources to help those he liberated, so there are a few of you out in the 'verse with out of control powers." Gray eyes met her. "I finally managed to stop him, explaining what was needed. He works for me, now, but the damage was done."

"What about his son?"

"Who do you think Prophet it?" Garrison replied, eyebrow raised.

Camille never thought of any of them as coming from somewhere, having a family. She liked to think of herself as someone who was born only a few years ago, when she was liberated from the Academy; same as Prophet. Everything else, everything they had lost, was too painful to remember.

"Prophet's real name is Adam Greer, but you remember what he was like. Mason is lucky they both weren't killed when Prophet was taken out; he was so powerful and so out of control. I was barely able to help him." He sighed. "That's why I'm worried about River."

"Don't be. River's... River will be fine. Her brother managed to help her. She can function. Prophet... wasn't he comatose when he got to base?"

"He was."

"River's not."

"Well, like I said. Simon Tam has impressive credentials. I could use someone like him to help me out with you all. You are definitely a handful." He smiled charmingly.

It was meant to be a joke, but it hurt. Camille pulled her legs to her body and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Garrison?" she said softly. "Did you ever love me?"

Garrison's expression softened, and, for a moment, he looked his age. The lights caught the few silver hairs in the soft brown, and the lines on his face stood out. "Yes, Camille. I do love you."

"I mean romantically."

"As do I. Whatever happened between us, please know that I was always sincere. I love you very much but we weren't right for each other."

"But..."

"Camille, I am old enough to be your father. I'm in a position in authority over you. I rescued you from a life of hell, and it is utterly unfair for me to take advantage of all that that implies. I never should have let it get as far as I did. I'm sorry."

She looked away. "I was happy with you."

"But I only brought out one side of you. With me, you lost a huge part of who you are meant to be." He leaned forward. "Camille, did you ever read the file I gave you? On your history? On everything you remember and have forgotten about your life before you were taken?"

"I don't care."

"But I do. Bao bei, reading that made clear so much about who you are and who you should be. I love the little girl that lived on that ranch, but with me, you'll never rediscover her. I'm poison to you as a lover, and we are over now and forever. You have to move on."

She sniffed and looked up, trying to prevent the tears from spilling over. "Fine. I understand."

"Camille..."

"Agent CAM462 out." She closed the link and turned the computer off. It went back into her pocket the moment Mal stepped inside the cockpit.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, but he sounded more resigned than accusing or angry.

Without turning to look at him, she replied, "I'm stealing your ship."

"Ah." Mal glanced over her shoulder at the nav computer. "And taking us to where we were going anyway?"

She nodded. "It's easier just to keep goin' in the direction we were since I can't fly it yet. But I'll figure it out." Camille looked up at him and smiled. "I'm a lazy thief."

"I guess so." His hands were on the back of her chair. "You been cryin' again?"

Go se. "A little." She wiped her eyes. "Look. I'm sorry I kissed Simon."

His face turned to stone. "Don't matter none to me," Mal said stiffly. He sat in the other chair.

"Yeah, but it matters to me." Camille turned to him. "I shouldn't have done it, and I especially shouldn't have done it after kissing you. I'm just makin' a mess here."

"Look, it don't matter to me who you kiss or what you do on this ship. I don't rightly appreciate bein' used or nothing, but..."

"I wasn't using you," she interrupted. "If anything, I was using Simon. After I kissed you, I was afraid you were angry at me. And I was embarrassed, especially because I know you don't like me, and..."

"I like you," Mal said softly. "I do. I know you're lying to me about things, and that you're hidin' a lot, but... but I also know that you don't mean this crew no harm. You wouldn't hurt any of us, so, despite the lies, I trust you."

Camille looked at him for a long moment. His eyes were steady as they looked at her. Steady and sincere. Deep inside burned a light of attraction, which kindled an answering response in herself. She wanted to kiss him again, but didn't; everything was already too complicated. "Thank you," she finally said. "For your trust. And, you're right. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you and yours. I just wish things weren't so awkward between us."

"Well. Keep your lips to yourself and stop lookin' at me all the time, and maybe things will get better."

"Excuse me, I ain't the only one doing the looking. You do your fair share, and it ain't just because my eyes are on you. I know you better."

"Yeah." His voice was soft again. Contemplative. "Yeah, you do. And that's a little frightening. I'm not an easy man to know, and yet, here you are. Sometimes, it almost seems like you're in my mind."

She swallowed. He was so damn sensitive. No wonder he let River stay on board even with the Alliance hot on her tail. It wasn't just her pretty brother he was attracted to; he probably found River comforting to be around, even when he called her creepy; psychics and sensitive tended to mesh very comfortably.

"Well," she finally said. "Sometimes I feel the same way." She rose from her seat and stood before him. "Can we start over?"

"How so?"

Camille shook her head and shrugged. "Don't know. I just feel like we need a new start, especially after today. I don't like feel awkward and angry around you."

Mal looked up at her. "I don't fancy it much either." Then, he took both her hands in his. Turning them over in his, he studied them, thumbs tracing over her palms. "I don't generally want people like this. I like bein' alone."

"I know." She shifted her feet. "I tend to go after people I want, but I'm trying not with you."

"Why?"

Her heart pounded. "Because you view sex as being something special and sacred between two people. I'm afraid that... I'm afraid that you won't want me if I did go after you." She licked her lips. "I've been with a lot of people." People, not men, and he caught it. Not that he was surprised.

His thumbs pressed into her palms. "It ain't numbers that bother me, it's the reasons. I have problems with cheapening sex with money. I respect Inara, really, it's just the idea of Companions playacting like it's all about connections and emotions and all. Religion. It ain't. It's about money and if they happen to like the folk, all the better. But it's not real. It's not..." This.

"Oh. Well, I can swear that, except for a few occasions, sex is a sacred thing for me. And..." It would be sacred with us.

Mal nodded. "But it ain't gonna happen."

"No."

"It's better if we don't."

"I know."

"Especially..." He trailed off.

Camille nodded and wrapped her fingers around Mal's thumbs. "I understand," she said softly. Bending down, she pressed her lips into his forehead. Then, she slipped her hands from his and left the cockpit, wondering when he'd notice that most of their conversations were with words they never said.

* * *

Camille felt it the moment Serenity entered Dyton Colony's atmosphere. After being with only nine people the past few days, the sudden crush of minds was oppressive. Setting down the dish she'd been washing, Camille closed her eyes and bent over the sink.

From somewhere in the ship, River shrieked. Obviously, she was feeling it too. Camille wondered what River did to protect herself from the melee or, if she wasn't able to block it out, how she coped.

She got her answer a moment later when River sent out a strong psychic blast that knocked Camille off her feet. The ship spun dizzily around her, and she didn't know what was going on, so strong was River's assault. Nightmares and images flashed through her head, screams of the kids at the Academy, gunfire, bombs going off. People cut into her brain, and she was awake, and they asked her questions. Then she was on the battle field, blood dripping from her arms and legs, scratches and bullet wounds and tian, she was so tired, but a good soldier never stops, she always accomplishes her objective, no matter what, she had to keep going and...

Back arching off the floor, Camille screamed, deep knives plunging into her brain, blood spilling out her ears.

Then, she attacked back. Gathering her strength, she focused her mind and plunged into River's, striking at the untamed, violent waves that were spewing forth. River reacted to the attack immediately, striking out again at the pain Camille caused her. She was stronger, and Camille immediately weakened, but she was also untrained. Falling back on the tricks she'd been taught, she forged on, creating a shield around her mind, an impenetrable wall to keep that dangerous mind out.

River screamed again and lashed out. Then, as Camille braced herself for yet another onslaught, River's mind abruptly was silent.

Gasping, Camille went limp. She was sweating and trembling from the assault, but it was over. And she was still in one piece.

That hadn't happened to her in a very long time. As much as Garrison had tried to keep the kids from hurting one another with their minds, he hadn't always been successful. Especially with kids like Prophet or even Trinity, who were extremely powerful. At first, Garrison had resorted to keeping them all sedated, until he'd discovered that the Alliance had lined all the bedrooms at the Academy with mud from Higgins Moon; for some reason, blocked psychic powers. It was more effective for kids like Camille, but it she knew that Prophet's first few weeks would have been much worse had his room not been lined. And, even with it, it'd been pretty bad.

"Um, you all right? Thought I heard you scream."

Camille opened her eyes. Mal was standing over her, eyebrow cocked. He was looking at her like she was crazy.

She smiled lazily. "I'm fine. I just got bored washing the dishes. Decided to take a break."

"And this here is the most comfortable place in the ship, so I hear tell."

"I don't know. I can think of one place that's probably more comfortable." Her smile turned lascivious and she ran her foot up his calve.

Mal snorted. "Your signals ain't by no means straight, girl. Didn't we just talk 'bout this last night?" He stepped so he was standing right over her and couched, hovering just above her knees.

"Yes. And maybe I was rethinkin' out conclusion."

"Were you now?"

She reached up and took his hands. Threading her fingers through his, she gently tugged at him until he was sitting on her, weight supported on his knees. "I kinda got caught up by the idea that it could be great between us."

"I believe the word we was discussing was actually sacred," he corrected. "And right now, we're in a kitchen." Despite his objection, Mal was smiling and his thumb rubbed against her index finger.

"I didn't say it had to be now."

"What's goin' on, Camille?"

I just got attacked by another psychic, and now I'm horny, she thought, but she kept it to herself. "Nothin'. I just... got to thinking about you after I went to bed last night."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrow.

Camille smirked at him. "Now it's your signals that are all crooked. Anyway, I decided that a little harmless flirting couldn't be a bad thing. Right?"

"I don't know if that's wise," he told her, the amusement replaced by utter seriousness. "You'll be leavin' us in a few days, and..."

"I want to stay."

Mal sighed and squeezed her hands. "I want you to stay. But that would complicate matters even more."

"Maybe you're the one makin' things unnecessarily complicated. Wash and Zoe are married, and they ain't destroyed the ship yet. Kaylee and River are together, and the 'verse is still supportin' life. Sometimes it ain't a bad thing for people in close quarters to explore mutual feeling's. After all, if you ever do get married, what are you gonna do with her?"

The image of a ranch flashed through Mal's mind, and Camille blinked, surprised.

"I never much thought you one for settlin' down planet side," she said before she thought. She knew that he'd been dreaming about owning a ranch, but your subconscious did things on its own sometimes.

Mal didn't seem to think there was anything unusual about what she said, though. He simply replied, "I wouldn't want to ever be stuck down permanently, but ownin' a bit of land is something I fought for. Bled for. All I need to be happy is to have my own space, both land and sky. Something of my own."

"And someone to share it with?"

His eyes grew soft and he detangled his hand from Camille's. "You're so young," he said as he ran his knuckles over her cheek. "You shouldn't even be thinkin' about tying yourself to somethin' like that, not even pretendin'."

"I might not have been in the 'verse a long time, but I ain't... I ain't what I seem."

"That's no lie." Mal's thumb brushed over her lips. "Don't make you any less young, though."

Heart pounding, she stopped his hand against her cheek. "The last man I was in love with was in his fifties. He helped me. Healed me, made me know what it was to be alive. Seeing how I felt around him makes me believe that age don't really matter when it comes to..."

"Don't."

"Believe me, I wish I could just shut up," Camille said ruefully. "I'm embarrassing myself."

Mal shook his head, a crooked smile on his face. "Don't be embarrassed. At least what you say's got some beauty in it. Some sense. So. What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know."

He sighed, again shaking his head. He was about to say something, when Jayne stuck his head in the room, saying, "We gonna deliver the cargo or not?"

"I just need a minute."

Jayne smirked, eyes on Camille. "That's how long it takes you? Because, Camille, I..."

"Out!" Mal ordered, turning.

The other man made a face and left.

"After we drop off the cargo, we're going to a bar," Mal said. He climbed off Camille and helped her to her feet. "It ain't nothin special, just pool, some real alcohol, something that passes for food. I figure we ain't in a rush, so we can stay 'till tomorrow monin'."

"Uh-huh?" Camille said politely, pretty sure she knew what he was getting at, but playing coy anyway.

His eyes narrowed at her, like he knew what she was doing. "Join us. I mean, me. I mean, come and ..."

Camille placed her hand over his mouth. "I know what you mean. And it sounds like fun; thanks." She kissed him softly on the cheek, then slowly pulled away, sliding her hand down his chin, neck, and to his chest.

Mal shivered, eyes dark as he watched her. "Um," he said, voice low. "See you later." Then, moving like he was being torn away, he turned and left the room.

What the hell was she doing? No matter how many times she tried to convince herself that playing with Mal was worse than fire, she couldn't stop.

If she was smart, she'd leave. Or tell him who she was. Both would stop him in his tracks, halt the madness from going any further.

But she'd do neither. Because, ultimately, she was weak. She liked sex, she liked Mal, and she knew she'd like sex with Mal. There wasn't much more than that.

Camille went to her room and changed her clothes. This was just an easy pick-up job, which meant she didn't have to do the chameleon thing and change alias's, especially since she was coming right back to Serenity. Actually, it wasn't so much the clothes she was changing, as weapons she was adding. She very rarely went out without at least one strapped to her body somewhere; the only reason she hadn't had any when she'd boarded Serenity was because she'd just come out of a job. And she couldn't take any weapons on that job since the damn admiral had weapon detectors over all his windows.

The gun holster strapped around her waist and down her thigh and was easily concealed by both a skirt and cargo pants with a hole in one pocket. She chose the cargo pants today. A knife slid into the top of her boot. On her left forearm was another small holster with another gun. Another dagger went into a holster at the small of her back. Over it, she pulled on a loose tank top and the shirt she'd borrowed from Mal the first night she'd gotten there. She had others, of course, that would have suited, but she liked the way Mal's felt against her skin.

She put her hair back in a headband, grabbed her computer and some money, and left her room.

"Hitting the town?" Simon asked as she passed the infirmary.

River was inside, obviously sedated. Kaylee sat next to her, fiddling with some kind of mechanical thing.

Camille swallowed hard and crossed her arms over her chest. "Um, yeah," she said, unable to take her eyes of River. She was so pale and silent. So...

It was like back there.

"Camille?"

"Um, yeah, I'm going out for a bit. I've some shopping to do." She backed slowly away from the infirmary, eyes locked on River.

Simon looked over his shoulder. "Oh. River sometimes has problems adjusting when we land on a new planet. She's fine, but she was so agitated, I had to sedate her. She was hurting herself."

Not just herself. "Right. Well. I'm going to..."

"Camille." Simon grabbed her by the arm as she turned to flee. Immediately, he released his grip, frowning. "What is that?"

He'd grabbed right over the gun holster like he had some kind of damn sensor. She'd better obfuscate quickly. "Simon, it's... where I keep my money." She was really off today. "I'm fine, really. Just distracted. Mal told me to meet him later, and now I...."

"Ah." Simon cocked his head, studying her. "I see."

"No, it's not like that."

"Jayne did grumble something about Mal having a quickie in the kitchen. I thought maybe he was going for quiche, but actually, quickie does make sense."

She smacked him on the arm. "You really are a brat."

"Be careful," Simon told her, laughing. "From what I hear, this colony was made up of convicts."

Camille smirked. "I'll be careful not to hurt anyone real bad." She glanced at River once more, then flounced out of the ship.

Dyton Colony was typical of a Rim planet. It was dusty and dry. Their imports far exceeded their exports, the law was basically ineffective, and most of the buildings were ramshackle and falling apart.

Of course, most of the inhabitants were ex-cons, so it was to be expected. They were criminals who'd bought a shorter prison sentence by agreeing to be exiled to hell for a few years. Generally, they were given a certain number of years they had to stay on the planet. Most left the moment their parole was finished, if not earlier, which meant the population was hugely transient, hence the lack of development. It definitely wasn't a place for anyone who couldn't take care of themselves, either. Camille was almost mugged three times in the fifteen minutes it took her to get from Serenity to the building she was doing her pick up. Each mugger was left with nothing but a broken hand for their troubles.

"Mr. Thomas?" Camille called, entering the seemingly empty spirits shop. Her voice had taken on the native accent by matter of course; it was the chameleon part of her coming out again. "You in here?"

"Yeah. One moment."

Camille leaned against the counter and read the labels of the bottles behind the counter. There was some excellent booze in the store. Camille didn't drink much--she figured she had enough chemical running rampant through her bloodstream--but she did, on occasion enjoy a small glass. And she knew that both Mal and Garrison would like something. Especially since Mal probably couldn't usually afford most of the stuff in here.

The man finally came out from the back. He was short, portly, and balding and looked relatively harmless. For some reason, he set Camille's teeth on edge.

"Garrison Pike sent me to pick up a package."

"Ah, right. But how do I know you're the one what I'm supposed to give it to?" He leered at her, eyes slowly traveling over her body.

"The sun's hot in space, ain't it?" she asked flatly, giving the code.

"Not as hot as in an Alliance cell," he supplied in answer. Thomas pulled a box from under the counter and slid it across to her. When she reached out to take it, though, he refused to let go. "My money?"

"Will be transferred to your account as soon as I know this is what I'm expecting." She yanked the box away from him. "And give me a bottle of your most expensive whiskey." After placing the box in her pocket, she pulled out a wallet and paid for the whiskey.

"Sure you don't want to have a drink with me, luv? Maybe play a bit of... cards with me?"

Camille just snorted and left the store. The package proved to be what it was supposed to be, and she sent a message back to base requesting the funds be transferred. Then, holding tight to the bag with the whiskey, she set about to find a fabric store.

Being a chameleon took work. Everyone at base was trained to take on new alias's, change their looks, and blend into a crowd both at a moment's notice and with a lot of preparation. Camille, for whatever reason, happened to be the best at this particular skill. Once, Garrison had suggested that it was due to the plays and such she'd done as a child, but since Camille didn't like to think about her childhood, she'd refused to comment.

But, privately, she wondered if he was on to something. When she was a kid, she'd constantly played dress up and pretended to be other people. She would come up with elaborate backgrounds for each character and even, on occasion, go out in public in character. Starting at about when she was seven, her parents put her in plays so she had a less embarrassing way to play act.

She didn't usually make her own clothes, though. It was much easier to buy them. But Serenity was lading on Beaumonde the day of the party, so she wouldn't have time to buy a dress. Plus, at a party like this, if you didn't show up in an original, you tended to stick out, and that's just what she wanted to avoid. It wouldn't be easy to make dress without a sewing machine but, if she was very lucky, Inara would not only have one, but she also wouldn't ask too many questions.

Of course, Inara knew more than Camille wanted her to, but that couldn't be helped.

Camille finally found the clothing district. It was bustling and relatively clean, full of people hocking their wares as well as buying. It took Camille three stores until she found a shop with fabric quality that suited her. First plopping down in front of a pattern screen, she surfed around until she found a simple-to-make dress that was elegant and fashionable. She bought the pattern and downloaded it into her computer. Then she dug through the fabrics, losing herself in the feel of silks and satins sliding beneath her hands.

"I hear you and Mal had a quickie in the kitchen this morning."

Startled, Camille turned, hand sliding into her pocket for her pistol. Inara was standing next to her, an amused smile on her face.

"How did you hear that?"

"It's a small ship."

"Yeah, I know." Camille pulled her hand out. "Yeah, that really happened. My back's still got the marks from the metal grating."

Inara laughed and turned to the bolt of fabric. "Oh, I heard it was against the sink, with you sitting on the ledge while Mal sucked your toes."

"Okay, there were five people on board when I left, and one of them was unconscious. Another's a Shepard. How the hell did the rumor mutate?"

"Simon's quite the storyteller."

She shot Inara a narrow-eyed look. "The two of you collaborated, didn't you?"

One shoulder raised and lowered elegantly. "We were bored."

"Or commiserating?"

Inara's nose wrinkled and she looked away. "Well," she replied softly. "Maybe a little bit."

Camille immediately felt like a si san ba. "Inara, I'm so sorry. I.."

"No, sweetheart, don't be," Inara sad, turning back. She took Camille's hand. "Mal and I settled our... whatever long ago. Before you. So did Mal and Simon. And while he and I may have a bit of that wistful, bittersweet longing in us, we're both happy that he seems to have found someone who..."

"We're not..." Camille protested, but her voice died away.

"You're dancing right now, that's all. Mal is slow. Methodical and very careful. His whole life, his whole sense of being was utterly destroyed at the battle of Serenity Valley. Since then, it's been very hard for him to let people in."

Camille pulled a very pretty green fabric out and stroked it. "Yeah, well. It's not picnic for me, either."

Inara put her arms around Camille and hugged her. "What was done to you was a horrible violation. I'm not surprised that you have problems letting people get close to you, but you can't live your life stuck in one moment of time. You have find the strength somehow to move on."

She didn't answer. This was nothing something she wanted to talk about, even with someone like Inara. A person whom Camille, for the most part, trusted. "How's this?" she asked, holding up the green. "With a white underskirt?"

"What's it for?"

"Um, a party I might be going to. Here's the pattern I picked up." She showed it to Inara.

Inara nodded. "Lovely. You'll look beautiful. It must be quite a party."

"It's for work," she admitted. "I've got a job on Beaumonde."

"Dr. Rutledge's party?"

"Yeah. Are you going?"

"Not with him. I wouldn't take an appointment with him ever. He's... But there's another man, quite lovely, actually, who's contracted me for the evening. I thought I would be the most beautiful woman there, but apparently not." She cupped Camille by the chin and gazed at her critically. "You much work very hard to keep yourself looking like this."

A little unsettled, and her libido kicking in, Camille swallowed. "Standard Companion beauty regime. I've had some training for the job."

"I'm not surprised." Inara turned from her to the fabrics. "How about this?" She pulled out a deeply rich purple satin. "It would look lovely with your complexion."

"It's beautiful, but it'll make me stand out too much."

"I see. Well, how about this green instead." She pulled a darker green from the shelf. "It's just you're so pale, you'll be washed out if you go with the one you chose."

"Okay." Camille took the bolt from Inara and took it to the counter to be measured. "Well, I'm done," she said after her purchase had been wrapped. "Are you heading back to the ship?"

"Not yet. I still have more shopping to do. Do you want me to hold onto your things so you can go meet Mal?"

Camille's cheeks burned. "Does everyone know about that, too?"

"Well, it is..."

"A small ship," Camille finished for her. "I know." She handed Inara the fabric, but kept the whiskey. "Thanks."

Inara's smile was luminous. "Of course. Have fun, sweetheart."

"Yeah, well" Camille replied, suddenly nervous. "I hope I will."

* * *

She was wearing his shirt when she entered the tavern. Mal noticed that the moment she set foot inside the bar. Not that he'd been starin' at the door all afternoon, waiting for her or anything, but Mal had happened to glance over in that general direction when Camille happened to walk through, and, naturally, one of the first thing he noticed was that her body was currently inside his shirt.

Camille's eyes found his right away and a wicked little smile curved her lips. It was a knowing smile, like she could see right into his head, see how the sight of her was muddling his thoughts and making his blood burn. He'd never given much thought to clothes before but, suddenly, seeing her in his struck him as the sexiest thing he'd ever bore witness to.

"Hey," she said, stopping in front of him. She was very close, closer than politeness called for, but that seemed to be her. Camille was a mixture of hesitant and overly-bold, dependin' on her mood. And when she was bold, she was always seductive. "Did the drop-off go well?"

"For once. You do what you needed to do?"

"Yeah. I went shopping. Got you this." She handed him a paper bag.

He looked inside to find what he knew to be a very expensive bottle of whiskey. "You... Um, thanks." Mal looked at her. "Why'd you do that?"

"She had to pay you back for the quickie somehow," Wash put in, stepping next to Mal.

Camille's eyes went heavenward. "Wo de tain a . I'm going to *kill* Jayne."

"Ain't his fault," Zoe said. "It's a small ship; word travels fast."

"Yeah, I've been told that. I guess I just didn't realize that a small ship would also be full of gossips."

Zoe's smile was bland. "It gets boring in space; sometimes we need entertainment. I'm sure you understand."

Camille cocked her head and said evenly, "Storytelling is the oldest entertainment. Well. Almost the oldest." She smiled sweetly Zoe.

"That barb was aimed at the wrong woman."

Mal was about to step in, prevent the fight that he sense brewing and didn't quite understand, when Camille blinked innocently and said, "What? Inara plays pool? I had no idea."

Zoe laughed and the tension was broken. Mal still had no idea why it'd sprung up in the first place, except that Zoe was protective over him and his heart and didn't like folk who waltzed in without flashin' proper credentials for it first. She'd sat with him plenty nights while he'd nursed a broken heart with drink, more before the war than after, but still. One never got over the image of their friend in pain, and he should know; he'd sat with her before she met Wash, although Zoe was always considerably more level-headed when it came to love than Mal ever was.

"See, now, this isn't fair," Wash complained suddenly. "She changes the odds. Mal, you shoulda told us she was coming out with us."

Mal smirked and shook his head. "Now, Wash, I ain't had nothin' to do with this bet in the first place." He put his hand on Camille's shoulder. "And she ain't gonna do nothing, anyway."

Camille leaned back against him, tilting her head back on his chest until her eyes met his. "What bet? And what am I not going to do?"

"Zoe and Wash have a bet."

"I only bet because I know I'm going to win, sir," Zoe interrupted.

"I thank you for the vote of confidence, Zoe. See, Camille, Wash here seems to think that I can't go into a bar without gettin' involved in some kind of brawl."

"I disagree," Wash said. "He and Zoe are always coming back bruised and broken when they go out for a drink. And I've seen Mal enter in plenty of innocent conversations that end in blows. So I don't think I'm being unreasonable here. But she could change things."

"You think I'm going to make him behave?" Camille seemed really amused by that thought.

Wash grinned. "One might think that, maybe. I know Zoe tries to behave when I'm around."

Zoe's eyebrow hit her hairline. "I do?"

"Sure you do," he said with an easy smile. "So you, Camille, might have an effect on Mal. But, then again, the first time we met you, you were bleeding to death. So... maybe you'll start a fight just for fun."

Camille shook her head and took a step away from Mal. "Don't go around starting fights as a rule, actually. That was a one time deal only." Then she glanced back at Mal, her smile crooked. "Maybe."

He smiled back at her and squeezed her shoulder. "Do you want a drink?"

"I, uh, don't normally..."

"I can get your somethin' without alcohol, if you want." If they had anything. Places like this tended to cater to the only people who came in, and that was those who wanted somethin' to make them forget their troubles for awhile.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks."

"Be right back." Mal pulled away from her and started towards the bar. To his utter lack of surprise, Zoe fell into step besides him, leaving Camille and Wash to talk. He wondered if Wash and Zoe were tag teaming them each takin' one to talk to about the follies of what they may or may not be doin', but decided that Wash would know he wasn't one to talk about the dangers of gettin' involved with someone. After all, he just waltzed in and stole his first mate right out from under Mal's nose without flashing the proper credential's first.

'Course, Zoe did all but make the poor man run the gauntlet before she even agreed to go on a date with him. And even that date had mostly been on a dare from Mal. No one, least of all Wash, expected it to turn out the way it did.

"So," Zoe said, after Mal placed the order for another round. "Camille's here."

"Yes, Zoe, that she is. And may I say your observational skills are working overtime today."

"Didn't tell us she was comin'."

"No, now I guess I didn't think it was important." He leaned his hip against the bar, facing her. "I did put out a general invite, you know that. Not my fault she's the only one that took me up on it."

Zoe smiled in that way she had where she didn't really smile at all. "What did happen this morning between the two of you, sir? Last I noticed, you and she weren't barely talkin. Now you're friends again. This ain't lie you."

He frowned. "If I make nice with her, I'm not acting myself, but if I don't, I'm not acting like myself either? Zoe, I'm not exactly sure..."

"You're givin her a lot of attention. Both when you're makin' nice to her, and when you're doing your best to ignore her. This ain't like you, Captain. Mostly, when we take on passengers, you keep to yourself."

"Mostly when we take on passengers, it's a shorter trip and they ain't always in my face. Camille is kind of hard to ignore, if you haven't noticed."

"Why? Because she's pretty?"

"No. Because she's..." He trailed off, not quite sure how to describe what it was that made her so noticeable.

Zoe took advantage of his silence. "Or because she reminds you of someone else you know?"

"Like who? Saffron?" Mal shook his head. "Maybe in some ways, yes. She's real savvy 'bout things, verse-smart, like Saffon turned out to be. But Camille's different. She ain't got that... thing that made everything seem so wrong when we were dealin' with Saffron. I know Camille's hiding things from us, and she admits it. She's got secrets, same as the rest; don't make her a criminal, though. Or, rather, don't make her out enemy."

"I didn't mean Saffron. And you know it."

Not Saffron? Then who the hell was Zoe talking about. N, he didn't think the two women were identical by no means, but the certainly were a lot more similar than anyone else he could think of. "No, now, I don't. If not her, then who you mean?"

"I mean, sir, we've got another River on board, only this one is lucid. And I tend to think that that may be twice as dangerous."

He looked at her for a long moment, trying to see if she was serious. Zoe just looked back at him, face bland, revealing nothing.

"You're kidding, right? Camille is nothin' like River."

"Then you're the only one who thinks so, sir. Except maybe Jayne, and that's just because he can't see past the pretty. But Camille.... May not look like River, and she might be more put together than her, but she's just as creepifyin, as you aways put it."

"No, she..."

"Captain, half the time the two of you talk, you ain't saying much out loud."

Mal frowned. She wasn't making any sense, and yet... Sometimes he actually had gotten the sense that a lot of what they were talking about wasn't being said. In fact, sometimes, when he got right down to it, it felt like Camille was living in his head.

But he wasn't going to tell Zoe that. "You're crazy," was all he said. He took Camille's drink from the bar and went back over to her and Wash.

"You fought in a duel?" was how Camille greeted him. She was laughing, eyes twinkling merrily up at him.

He looked at Wash, eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, Captain," Wash said, still laughing. "I was just entertaining her with some of our more colorful exploits. I thought the idea of you fighting a duel was very entertaining."

"So did I." She took her drink and sipped it, eyes sliding to Zoe. "But he also said the two of you weren't there."

"No, but we did see him go off to the big party," Zoe said, sitting next to her husband. "All trussed up like some fancy gentleman. Took Kaylee with him, then got into a fight trying to defend Inara's honor."

"I'll be she loved that."

"Blackballed the client who stabbed me," Mal said. "Said she weren't going to do business with him anymore, which suited me just fine."

Camille had her drink cradled between her hands, and it looked like she was gazing down into the liquid like it could reveal her future. But she was really looking up through her lashes at Mal, all coy like as she said, "Plannin' on doing that to all her clients?"

"Only the ones that insult both me 'n her. Ones that stay out of my business, I got no quarrel with."

Both Zoe and Wash snorted, but quickly shushed when Mal shot them dark look. He was about to say more, when a man sauntered up behind Camille and said, "Beautiful day, in't it? Sky's blue as you could ask for."

Mal was about to reply, when he noticed Camille had gone completely rigid. Her jaw was clenched and lips pressed tightly in annoyance.

He glanced at Zoe, who had obviously noticed as well.

"I said," the man repeated sounding a little annoyed, "beautiful day..."

Camille turned. "I heard you. And I thought it looked a little bit like rain, myself." She made a dismissive gesture and turned away.

"Sorry, luv, but it ain't actually you that I'm here to talk to. Just making sure I had the right table." He climbed onto a stool and looked at Mal. "You Captain Reynolds?"

"I am," Mal said guardedly.

"My name is Tyber, and I've heard your the man to hire for delicate jobs."

Mal studied the man for a moment. He could be Badger's twin, and not just because of the native accent. Tyber had the same deep sunk eyes and lack of height; the nose was longer and mouth bigger, but he had just as much growth on his face. His hair was a greasy brown and hung around his face lankly, and he reeked of sweat and oil.

But his clothes spoke of someone who prided themselves on status. Probably had status on this damned colony, although that wasn't worth much. Still. He'd made money in the past somehow, if the fine material told the truth, and he just might be able to make money again. Besides, even Badger, when he wasn't pissing in the wind, managed to make a tidy sum and, again, sometimes even managed to pass a portion of that sum onto Mal for the work he did.

"How delicate?" he finally asked.

Tyber smiled revealing gray teeth. "It requires some subterfuge and a fast exit. See, there's a party on Beaumonde in a few days. If your itinerary don't change none, you'll be there for it. The man throwing the party is very rich and has many beautiful toys. One of them is a diamond. A big one, biggest ever set. Been around centuries. Legend has it that it came from Earth that was, a wedding present for a pretty lass. The lass died on a ship that sank, taking the diamond wif 'er. When the whole thing was excavated, it bounced around from 'and to 'and."

"And now it lives on Beaumonde," Mal said.

"In the home of one Dr. Edward Rutledge. And the night of the party, the bauble will be out. It's a necklace, you see. Hi wife will wear it, oh, not long. An hour or two, then put it away. At which point, you'll liberate it."

Mal glanced at Zoe, who was fairly expressionless. Her eyebrow raised slightly, which usually meant that it was a job, and it was money and he'd be a fool not to take it.

At least, he assumed that's what it meant; it weren't like they had a code. "What's the pay?"

"You take it to my fence. It's thirty percent of whatever they pay."

"Forty-five, or I say no," Camille said suddenly.

"It's not your call," Zoe said.

Camille shook her head, smiling tightly. "No. But I'm the one with the invitation to Rutledge's party. I can get you in, but I'm not doing unless you give them forty-five percent."

"Now, now, luv," Tyber started, but Camille leaned across the table until they were almost nose to nose and said, "I will make sure you disappear. This is clearly outside the boundaries of your agreement with my employer. You ignored my code. I said I wasn't doing business with you, and whether or not you are contracting me, you are quite clearly expecting him to get in on my ticket. I've got work to do that night, and I ain't bringin' tag-a-longs unless I know the money's worth it."

Tyber swallowed hard, and Mal didn't blame him. Camille was scary right now; there was a light in her eyes that made her think that maybe, just maybe, if Tyber didn't give her the answer she wanted to hear, she'd just reach right over and snap his neck.

All that danger packed tight into one pretty-lookin' package. Maybe Zoe wasn't so crazy after all.

"Forty-five percent," Tyber said roughly. "Agreed."

Camille sat back. "You work out the details. I'll get him in."

"Captain?" Tyber turned back to him.

Of course, there wasn't exactly much to work out at this point. He had a way in, he had the promise of a good cut of the profits, and he had a date who'd help him blend in better than Kaylee could. The rest was worked out pretty quickly, which was good, since Camille was glaring at the verse like she wanted to destroy it.

"You made at somethin'?" he finally asked after Tyber left

She blinked, like comin' out of a trance. "Huh? Oh. No." She was pretty unconvincing.

"You know, it's funny," Zoe said. "You talking to Wash about the last big shindig Mal went to, and you have an invitation to another one. And then, us gettin' a job involving it, too. That's a pretty big coincidence."

Camille smiled, but it looked forced. "I was just askin' for entertaining stories from Wash. I guess he thought that one was the best."

"It's still pretty strange."

"What, you think I led him into talkin' about it?"

Zoe shrugged. "I don't rightly know. We ain't big shindig folk. How would you know to ask?"

"Maybe I read his mind," Camille said shortly. "I'm going back to the ship." Pushing her stool back roughly, she stormed from the bar.

"What the..." He ran after Camille, confused as all hell as to what was going on. "Camille!"

She didn't stop when he called her name. When he reached her, he grabbed her by the arm and swung her around to face him roughly. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothin'." She wouldn't look at him.

"Then why are you acting like someone just kicked your pet?"

"I ain't... I don't like being used."

"You angry with me for taking the job?"

"No. It's money. I understand. But he... he shouldn't have offered it to you. I gave the code to tell him I weren't interested in talking to him, but he ignored me."

"He wasn't doing business with you."

Blue eyes rolled skyward. "It's my invitation. Mal, I'm busy that night risking my life. If somethin' goes wrong, and I have to leave you..." She hesitated, teeth catching her bottom lip for a moment before she said, "I'll have to leave you. And this man, by all accounts, ain't exactly what you'd call friendly."

"And I ain't exactly what you'd call a babe in the woods. I can take care of myself."

She shook her head. "I know, but... It's more than just you. It's..." Camille stopped talking and looked away.

He stepped closer to her. "It's what?"

A wind picked up, blowing hair across her face, obscuring her eyes. Gently, he tucked the strands behind her ear. Then, cupping her chin in the palm of his hand, he lifted her face so he could see it clearly.

"Camille?"

Camille still wasn't meeting his eyes. "I hate being used. I hate..."

He didn't get to hear what it was she hated. Without finishing her sentence, Camille pulled away from him and fled down the street.

This time, Mal let her go, wondering exactly who this girl was.

* * *

"Ah, I see you're assimilating into the crew very well," Book's amused voice said from above the cargo bay floor.

Camille gave a shout as she finished the final move of her kata, holding it for a moment before she glanced upwards. Sweat had plastered her bangs to her forehead, and her lungs burned as she drew in air. "What?" she snapped in annoyance, eyes flicking at the arrangement of boxes and pylons so she could plan the quickest way to get up to him and beat that smug expression from his face.

He seemed unfazed by her aggression; right now, he was the only one who wasn't. Simon had tried to interfere, but Inara, of all people, had told her to let him be. Zoe had tried to talk to her, but Camille had simply ignored her; Mal and she weren't talkin' at all, Jayne was bein' kept busy workin' on something, Wash was flyin' the ship, and Kaylee'd watched for a little bit before going back to her vigil over River.

But Book, the quiet shepherd who looked like he wouldn't harm a fly, was bearding the lion's den. "I just mean," he said as he walked down the stairs, "Dr. Tam forbid you to do strenuous exercise until your stitches came out. Yet, here you are."

"I have a job I need to do." Camille wiped her face with the hem of her shirt. "I'm out of shape."

"From not working out for less than two weeks? I hardly think..."

Book struck without warning. His fist flew through the air, just off center from her nose, faster than normal people would be able to track.

But Camille wasn't normal people. Not hesitating a moment, she stepped aside and her left arm snapped into an upblock, driving his punch aside. Grabbing it as she pushed it as far down as she could, Camille threw a punch of her own.

Book knocked it aside easily, but telegraphed his next move. Camille jumped as his foot tried to swipe her legs from under her. Quickly, she turned, back to him, and brought her right hand down, aiming for his crotch.

He flipped her onto the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. Kipping up, Camille thrust kick his knee, finally connecting, then gave a roundhouse to the side of his face. Before he could return the attack, she back-flipped away, retreating across the floor to recoup.

"Running away?" Book said, lightly teasing but not taunting.

"When the target is so easy?" Camille climbed on a nearby pile of supplies, and crouched on top. "You're kind of slow, old man."

"I caught you off guard."

She just laughed and leapt to the next, smaller, pile. "That wasn't off guard. That was mildly surprised. Especially since your aim was off."

His brow cocked. "I didn't want to hurt you. I hear you're going to a party in a few days. You wouldn't want to go with a bruise on your face."

Camille flipped off the boxes and landed on the ground. "I would have blocked it. Besides. I've got a ton of make-up to cover it up."

"It'd be a shame to cover the pretty face."

"I'm sick of hearing that," she snapped without thinking. Then she winced, looking away; she couldn't believe she'd said that.

"Camille..."

"Have you always believed in God?" she asked suddenly, turning back.

Book frowned, obviously unnerved by the sudden change in topic. "Yes. I have."

"Then how could you have ever done what you did? You know, before you were a shepherd?" Never mind how she would have known what he'd done. Good soldiers attacked where the enemy was weakest, and this was definitely Book's weakness.

Indeed, he paled at her words, looking more shocked than upset. Then, as he was mustering up his rebuttal, Camille attacked again.

This time, he didn't throw his punches. Every blow was aimed truly, and a few hit their mark. Camille made no sound as she attacked and blocked, not giving ground. For all his size and strength--and he was very strong and very well trained--Book quickly lost the advantage, bowing to Camille's even more superior training and impressive speed. She didn't hurt him, merely forced him back, away from what she'd mentally assigned as her territory.

And then, because, ultimately, Book's point had to be proven, Camille felt the stitches in the huge cut across her abdomen give.

It was a fight, then, against herself. Even as she felt blood seep from the portion of the wound that had opened, she could feel her training kick in that demanded she continue on the fight. Good soldiers didn't give up. They didn't stop. Just kept fighting, don't make a sound, keep going on until the objective has been completed. Don't cry, don't sigh, don't die. Keep fighting and...

"No!" she screamed suddenly, dropping to the deck. Her head hit the grating below and the shock of the metal cutting into her forehead broke the litany that had been ground into her for years.

She trembled as she tried to come back to herself. It was such an automatic impulse, to keep on fighting. Garrison and the rest of the teachers back at the base had realized early on that there was no good way to break the conditioning. It was beyond brainwashing or drug therapy. The Alliance had literally rewired her brain to continue fighting to the very end. All Garrison could do was find the right drugs to help her gain a measure of control over her own body.

But even then, it was still a fight.

"Camille."

"I'm all right." She lifted her head, tears streaming from her eyes. If she ignored them, she could pretend they were just a reaction from the pain, and not...

"What's goin' on?" Mal demanded angrily.

More tears flooded from her eyes. She quickly wiped her face with her shirt as Book tried to explain, but despite her efforts, the tears kept coming.

"Did you have to beat her up?"

"I didn't," Book protested. "We were sparring. We both might have a few bruises on our arms or legs, but we were both careful."

"Then why is she cryin'?"

"Captain." Book sounded chiding. "Was she crying when we first met her? Because, if I remember correctly, she was hurt worse than she is now."

"I'm fine." Camille pushed herself to her feet. She winced as her head wound stabbed sharply through her brain. Like all head wounds, it was bleeding far more than it needed to, and when she wiped her forehead, her hand came away red with blood. "He didn't do nothing."

"When I sent him in to talk to you, I thought he'd talk, not beat on you. Gorram, girl, is there anyone in this verse ain't wantin' to lay fists on your person?" Mal asked.

She raised an eyebrow, pressing her hand into the cut again. "Do you?"

"At this moment?" He caught her by the waist as she swayed slightly, causing her to cry out in pain as his arm pressed against the hidden wound under her shirt. "What now?"

"My stitches pulled. It's hurting. You touched the hurt." She glared at him. "You hurt me."

Mal rolled his eyes and scooped Camille into his arms. "Ah, ain't you cute."

"I can walk," she said.

"Might not walk in the direction I want you to, seein' how stupid you're actin' at the moment."

She squirmed. "You'd never do this to Zoe."

"Zoe ain't pocket-sized," was Mal's level response. "Couldn't if I tried."

"Wasn't what I meant."

Mal's mouth ghosted over her forehead, and he looked down at her. "I know. Doctor. Got you one idiot patient for you to patch up."

"Did Jayne cut himself?" Simon asked. He turned and saw Camille as Mal unceremoniously dumped her onto the med table. "Oh, you mean this idiot patient," he said flatly. "What did you manage to do to yourself?"

"You're not a very caring doctor, are you?" Camille asked, pulling off her shirt.

"When patients go out of their way to hurt themselves, not so much." Simon went to the sink to wash his hands. "Of course, this is just even more evidence that you fit in with this crew perfectly. None of them seem to be able to go a day without some new injury that could easily have been avoided by a little common sense."

"Hey now," Mal protested. "We all get hurt in the line of business. You know, the business that keeps y'all fed and safe and the like."

Simon looked at Mal with an ironic eye as he pulled on his gloves. "Yes. Stab wounds got by dueling, poison kisses, barroom brawls..."

"Poison kisses?" Camille gasped. Simon was cleaning the blood from her cut, and damn if it didn't hurt. She really needed distraction. "Ah!" Her hand shot out and clenched in Mal's shirt, tugging him down.

Predictably, his head knocked into hers, but at least the pain was distracting. Gently, Mal pushed her onto her back, arm pressed against her chest as Simon continued to work, fixing the stitches on the cut that weren't nearly healed near enough to her satisfaction.

"'member how I told you I only ever got the urge to spill my soul to one other person?" Mal asked, fingers curled around her shoulders.

"Uh-huh." Simon was being as gentle as he could, she could tell, but apparently she'd not just pulled the stitches, put snapped them. The smaller wound had all but sealed itself, but the big one was still just a touch raw; it hadn't needed the strain of the workout, even though her body did. Now she was paying for it.

A frown creased Mal's face as a blood rolled down the bridge of Camille's nose and over her lips. Easing up on her just a bit, he snagged a small towel. "She was a mighty fine criminal," he said as he wiped the blood away.

Simon sank a needle into her abdomen; Camille cried out as pain streaked over her skin like sharp claws.

"Camille!" Mal said sharply. "Look at me."

Panting, she obeyed, locking her eyes with Mal's.

He had the towel pressed into her forehead and was staring down at her like she was the only thing in the world to him. "The girl, Saffron, she called herself," he continued like they were alone, relaxing, "pretended we were married."

"Didn't you know?" Camille asked.

"I was drunk. We'd helped rid a town of some bandits that was robbing 'em, and they was so grateful, they threw us a party. Drink was plentiful, and the girl was pretty. Led me through the marriage ritual when all I thought I was doin' was drinkin' some wine and wearin' a silly hat."

"Triumph?" Camille guessed. Then, as Simon did something else that hurt, she contorted her face, yanking Mal closer to her unconsciously.

His face was next to hers now, and his breath was in her ear. "Been there?"

"Not me. A friend." She turned her head so she could look at him, needing the steady grounding of his eyes. "He told me all about the local customs and the like."

"Yeah, well. This girl hoodwinked me right proper. Thought she was my wife for a bit then, even though I weren't never plannin' on... you know. Goin' through with it."

"A proper gentleman, that's Mal," Simon chimed in, and there was more than a little bit of disgust in his tone.

Camille grinned, threading her fingers in Mal's hair. "Yeah, I've noticed. What does it take to make him stop acting like one?"

"I'm sure you'll be able to tell me before long."

Her grin widened as Mal almost blushed.

"All right, Camille, I'm done patching that one up. I'm going to cut the rest out. It might hurt a little."

She rolled her eyes, fingers tightening in Mal's hair. "Oh, no. You've got the lightest touch I ever did feel. Nothing in here to fear."

"If you'd let me give you something..."

"You'd have a corpse on your hands. So. You weren't plannin' on doing anything with your blushin' bride. So what happened?"

"She tried to seduce me," Mal said.

"The word 'try' indicates failure, Mal," Simon pointed out.

A look of annoyance flashed over Mal's face and then, pointedly annoying the remark, he said, "I come down to my bunk and find it full of naked woman flesh. And that naked woman started quoting the Bible all dirty-like while flashing her, uh..."

"Soft mounds of womanly-flesh?" Camille supplied when Mal slowed. She laughed and said, "Since when do you try to talk all nice-like?"

"Since I find myself pressed against your, uh, soft mounds of womanly flesh tellin' this story," Mal answered. "Anyway, she managed to get me all hot 'n bothered, through no fault of my own, mind you..."

"Uh-huh," both Camille and Simon said at the same time.

"And she kissed me. Only she weren't some innocent little religious girl from Triumph, she were some Companion-trained thief come to steal my ship. She had poison coatin' her lipstick and it knocked me right out."

Whatever Simon was doing didn't hurt at all. Camille let out a slow sigh and unclenched her fingers from Mal's hair. "Doesn't sound like that was all your fault," she said, combing through the short strands until she was holding Mal by the nape of his neck. "In fact, that almost sounds like it happened because of duty."

"Don't try to excuse him," Simon said. He ran something cool and soothing over Camille's abdomen. "He had no business kissing Saffron. She may have been a criminal mastermind, but her cover was that of an innocent child."

"Yeah, an innocent child quoting dirty Bible and laying nekkid in my bed!" Mal protested. He glanced back at Simon, and then straightened, taking his weight off Camille. "Besides, she had Companion training; I didn't have a chance."

Simon just shot Mal a look that spoke volumes.

Camille pushed herself into a sitting position, grabbing Mal's arm when the ship seemed to swirl around her. "A minute ago you were complaining that Mal was a proper gentleman. Now, suddenly, he's led by a less thoughtful portion of his anatomy?" She kicked Simon gently as he approached her, pushing her bangs from her forehead. "Jealous?"

If looks could kill...

"By the way, I'm not going to ask how you got this," he said as he placed a butterfly bandage over the cut in her forehead. "Just... however you did, don't do it again."

"I won't."

"Now." Simon stepped back and pulled off his gloves. "No more strenuous exercise until at least two days from now. That includes weight lifting, jumping around, beating up shepherds, full contact checkers, gymnastics, and anything where your upper body moves away from your lower body. I'm serious. If you plan to make it to this party you and Mal are going to without staining your clothes with blood, you need to let the wound heal."

"Ain't you got anything to help it along?"

Simon shook his head. "A dermal regenerator would do the trick, but we don't have access to one. You have to do it the old fashion way."

Camille nodded. "Sorry," she said, kicking her legs lightly. "I just... wasn't thinking."

"So I noticed." Simon's eyes flicked from Camille to Mal and back again. "You know..."

"Bye, Doc!" Camille said brightly, not wanting to hear the lecture she knew she and Mal were about to receive. "I'm going to change."

"Camille." Simon had that 'I'm your doctor, don't you dare leave, sit right down and listen to my sage wisdom' tone, but Camille didn't have any time for it. She'd heard it all before.

"Camille!" Mal called.

Oh, fantastic.

"What?" She turned, but didn't stop, instead walking through the ship backwards as carefully as she could.

"We need to talk."

"Can't it wait?" Camille reached her room and went inside, leaving the door open for Mal to follow her inside.

The door closed behind Mal. "No." He stepped further inside, his mouth set in a hard line. "Look, I'm havin' a hard time understandin' you."

"Join the club." She pulled a shirt she'd stolen from Garrison years ago out and pulled it on. "Look, I'm sorry for the way I acted today," she said, turning to face Mal. "Tyber just made me uncomfortable and... pissy."

"No kiddin'. Do you know him or something? Run into him before?"

Camille shook her head, her fingers fumbling on the buttons as she tried to do them. "No, but I've run into his type. And it weren't so much him that got to me as the fact..."

"He ignored the code. What code?" Mal stepped into her and brushed her hands aside so he could fasten her shirt.

Annoyed, she exhaled hard. "Garrison set a code up for anyone wantin' to do business with any of us. Now, normally they don't go to someone like me."

"Like you?"

Damn; watch about getting too close to the truth, Camille, she reminded herself sharply. "I don't really do the business side of things. I just do the work. We've got people basically on every world. They find jobs, record them with Garrison, and give us all the information and anything else we need."

"Like invites to big shindigs?"

"And maps of the layout. Codes to security, that sort of thing. I can do my own fieldwork, too, of course, but in most cases, it's just easiest for all the ducks to be in a row before shootin' them"

"Right. So, what rubbed you wrong about Tyber? Besides him being a ben tian sheng de yi dui rou?"

"Do I need a better reason?" she asked with a small smile and half shrug.

"You do if you start actin' like your brain got left in space, yes." He was done with the buttons, but still holding onto her shirt. It almost felt like he was ready to take it off again, and Camille almost wished he would; anything had to be better than trying to sort through what she was thinking and feeling. She got enough of that back at the base.

But, Mal didn't want to be seduced, and while she had no doubt that if she put her mind to it, she'd be able to finally get him into bed, it'd be a sure way to get herself invitation to stay onboard revoked. And she didn't want that.

"I guess that, maybe, I'm a little, ah, uncomfortable with my assignment on Beaumonde." She wouldn't meet his eyes, but she reached up and fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. "I've got a job to do, and now my attention will be divided."

"I ain't exactly new to all this. I can take care of myself."

"That ain't... I mean, I know. But, if somethin' were to happen..."

"You'd leave me, I know." His hands slid up her shoulders and he squeezed. "You killin' someone?"

Camille shook her head. "Robbery. I'm stealing some files off his computer." She swallowed hard and forced herself to meet his eyes. "It's a real important job, Mal. There's so much at stake, and..." Without warning, her throat closed up.

"What's wrong?"

Unable to speak, she shook her head, tears pounding behind her eyes. There was so much at stake on this job. So many lives: hers, River, Prophet, Trinity, Ebony... all of them. Every life the Alliance had twisted might be fixed with the information on that computer. If she succeeded and, of course, failure was not an option.

Neither was losing anyone on the crew.

Mal sighed. "The money from that necklace could help us out a lot. I'd hate to turn it down."

"I don't want you to." She cleared her throat, trying to force her words out. "It's doable. Both our jobs. But we gotta do it my way."

"You're way?"

"Yeah." She looked up with him. "I mean, I'll let you help me plan it, of course, and once we're inside, if somethin' comes up, you're free to improvise. But you're there on my ticket and you gotta play it by my rules. Dong ma?"

He understood. He obviously didn't like it, though, and his displeasure was written across his face. "You won't make me do nothin' stupid, right?"

"Like wear a pretty flowered bonnet and play at being Jayne's wife?"

"Now how did you hear about that?" Mal asked, looking befuddled.

Camille smiled sweetly and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Why, Captain, haven't you heard? It's a small ship."

He laughed and picked her up by the waist so he could plant a kiss on the bridge of her nose. "Well, now that you mention it, I may have heard that rumor." Mal's face turned serious, eyes flicking to her lips. "No flowered bonnets, no playin' like I'm your indentured man, no wearing make-up."

"Wow. I think I better ask for a few more stories from the crew. Sounds like you've had an interestin' life." She licked her lips, her own eyes falling to Mal's for a moment. "Nothin' stupid," she promised, heart pounding. "Just a little show to make us blend in with the rest. Easy stuff."

"Good." Mal's voice was low, throaty. He leaned in just a bit, and Camille's breath caught as her eyes slid shut and...

"Camille!" Kaylee's voice called. The door flew opened, breaking Camille and Mal apart as she said, "River's up and wants to know if... Oh! Oh, I'm sorry!" Her hands were at her cheeks, and there was a huge grin on her face as she looked the two of them.

Clearing his throat, Mal released Camille and moved away. "No problem, little Kaylee. I've gotta get up to the... bridge and..." He gave Kaylee a withering look that by all rights should have dimmed her beam, then left.

Kaylee turned her smile on Camille. "So, did you kiss?" she asked.

"No." Her face was hot and, for the first time in quite a bit, Camille actually felt flustered. "Someone interrupted us."

"I'm so sorry. I swear, I wouldn't have, especially since you was in such a mood earlier, but River's starving and I didn't know what you last ate, so..."

Camille just shrugged and linked her arm through Kaylee's. "It's fine. I'm starved too. Let's go."

* * *

The door to Camille's room opened, waking Camille from her sleep. Unwilling to open her eyes, she let her mind open to see who it was. If it was Jayne, she was about willing to just let him have his way, but it wasn't, so she didn't have to pretend to worry about that possibility.

"Hey," she said, scooting closer to the wall so she could accommodate River's body in the narrow bed. "Something the matter?"

River shook her head and stretched out facing Camille. "Don't want to sleep," she said waspishly, sounding like an exhausted little kid who'd stayed up way past her bedtime. "I slept all day. All my life, it feels like."

Camille let her soft sign puff across River's cheek. "I know what you mean." She moved closer to River, until her head was almost resting on the other girl's shoulder. "How much... how much do you remember about your life. Before?"

"Not much. It's all images. Foggy. When I'm okay, I can remember more, but don't because it makes me drift." She snuggled closer to Camille. "What about you?"

"I remember everything. Now. But it took a long time. It, uh," she faltered, suddenly uncertain about everything. "It takes a long time. To really get better."

"What's it like?"

She licked her lips, trying to remember everything she'd been through. "First they take out this... thing the Alliance implanted into us. To manipulate our hormones. And you get started on some kind of medication to counteract the effects of having a stripped amygdala. While you're dealing with that, you get a lot of blood tests and physicals and stuff. They try to talk to you, but generally leave you alone until the worst is over."

"That sounds bad. What's worse?"

Oh, God, why had she even started talking about this? She could have just skipped it, except... except, really, River had a right to know what was going to happen. It was terrifying enough to go from almost completely sexless to needing it almost all the time; and River was so innocent.

"The first thing the doctors will do is remove... a little device that blocks the production of androgen in your body while still allowing it to... you know. Develop normally." Her face was so hot. "When it gets removed, you're going to want to have sex. A lot."

The frown on River's face only served to make her look more beautiful and doll-like than a smile would. She was so innocent, and her innocence was etched on every feature. Although in the long run it was healthier for her to get control of herself again and grow up--have sex--Camille was afraid that it would ruin the innocence.

Of course, that was stupid. Innocence and sex really didn't have anything to do with one another; it was more an outlook one took on life. If what River had been through hadn't already soured her innocence, then maybe nothing well. Or, maybe, like the rest of them, she'd become bitter and frustrated after Garrison rescued her from the perpetual fog that surrounded her brain.

"Is that why I don't have sex now?" River finally asked.

"You're supposed to be able to feel things down there. It's supposed to feel good. Really good."

River's smile was wry and embarrassed, a flush making her cheeks glow. "I thought I was missing something. I just like being with Kaylee, but she... it's different for her. I knew it was. Didn't know why." She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "I'm scared."

"It's scary." Camille moved closer to River and combed her fingers lightly through her long hair. "What scares you most? I can help. Maybe."

"Everything. I love Kaylee. I don't like the idea of... you know." She blushed.

"Not being able to control yourself?"

River nodded.

"Is it any consolation that sex is fantastic? It feels great, it's fun. With our enhancements, you achieve a level of closeness with your partner that most people don't."

"Don't want to be out of control. I've spent too much time being out of control."

"Yeah. I know. But, if you don't let them do it, then you're gonna get sick. Stay sick. The medicines won't work, and you'll never be a whole person."

River's eyes opened. "You mean like you."

Camille wrinkled her nose in distaste, her jaw tightening.

It was River's turn to touch Camille's hair, now. "Will I have to choose a new name?"

"It's not a requirement, no. But none of us have our families, like you do. Well. You have Simon, and then you got everyone else. My parents are dead. Prophet... I guess he has a father around, but I've never seen them together. Mostly, if our parents aren't dead, then they're being pressured by the Alliance not to care about us. They don't care about us and we're not the same people we were when we were taken. And you're never going to be, River. I mean, you're not ever going to be the same kid you were. I think Simon kind of gets that, but you have to, too. You're different. I was different. So, I became someone else."

"Who?"

"I don't know what you mean?"

"You didn't just choose the name Camille from nowhere," River said logically. "Most people, when choosing a new identity, will chose something that is significant to them for a variety of reasons. I imagine that Prophet chose his because he's a powerful mind reader, so he seems like he can predict the future or read into people's souls. And Trinity was probably religious."

"She was a triplet, actually. The other two didn't make it out, though."

River nodded. "That makes more sense. So. Why Camille?"

She sighed. "Camille was a friend of my parents back on Londinum, before we moved away. She was... an eccentric. An actress. She could be anything and become anyone with the blink of an eye. It was amazing. I used to listen to her tell stories for hours, marveling at how she was constantly changing her voice and posture and... everything about her. People called her a bian se long. Camille the chameleon. And I wanted to be her." Camille shrugged. "Be careful what you wish for." She licked her lips uncertainly. "When I was rescued, I was so confused. About everything. And Garrison taught us all how to... be chameleons anyway, so it only made sense. I wasn't, you know. *Her* anymore, anyway."

"Kathleen." River's fingers played across her face. "Except you're not really Camille."

"It's who I am. After the academy and experiments and training, after Garrison got me out and fixed me up and taught me to live again, I wasn't Kathleen O'Malley anymore. I'm Camille."

"No." River wasn't disagreeing, exactly; her eyes were far away, hand pressed against Camille's head. "No, not really. Not... exactly."

Camille inhaled sharply as River's mind touched hers. God, River was powerful; just her slight presence was overwhelming.

"Camille is a mask, but it's grown. Kathleen is your past, but she's still in you. You need to learn to be both."

She pushed River's hand away, breaking the mental link. "I don't want to. It's too painful."

"Gotta do it anyway. Just like you gotta take your medicine."

As if on cue, Camille's monitor went off. "That was good." Camille sat up and pulled her book from the shelf. "How did you know?" The back panel opened and she took out the needle and medicine. Bending her head forward, she carefully probed on her neck until she found the device, moving slowly so River could see how it was done.

"Same for everyone?" River didn't sound pleased.

Camille injected the medication, then removed the needle. "The method of delivery, yes. The medication, no." She put everything away. "They did the same thing to all of us--well, I guess you were worked over slightly differently, since your purpose was different from mine--but the exact dosage and mix of chemicals works differently on everyone. Plus, where I was at least, we were all made for slightly different purposes. I was supposed to be a commander, the leader of my platoon, and a specialist at covert ops. There are others who were in my unit that were designed for tech work or communications or foot soldiers. I was a leader, and all of them were manipulated mentally to follow me. There were almost fifty platoons of twelve just like mine."

"But what would have happened if you died in battle?" River asked logically.

"My second was preprogrammed to take control in that event. They all were programmed for command just in case, ready to go online when it was there turn." Camille smiled bitterly.

"And if you were hurt?"

"I keep going until I can't go anymore." She swallowed. "Well. The medication allows me to stop when I'm hurt, but I'm hardwired to... never stop moving. Not unless I'm dead."

River took Camille's hand and squeezed.

Uncomfortable, Camille looked away. "It'll be good for you to get to Garrison soon. You're never really free of the Academy, you know. They made plans in case we escaped. Planted codes to set us off so they can find us quicker. I'm worried you might go off and hurt someone."

"Who did this to us?"

"Come on, River. You know the answer to that. You feel it ever time you take a bite of process food or see an ad on the Cortex."

"Blue Sun," River said heavily.

Camille nodded. "Blue Sun," she repeated. "The real power of the 'verse."

* * *

It took two days to get to Beaumont. Two extremely busy days. Camille seemed to go into some kind of manic mode, and it was drivin' Mal crazy. She was up before everyone else, doing that damn Ti Chi thing in the main cargo hold. She barely ate breakfast before she was working on her dress or running around, playing games with Kaylee and River. The running and the games weren't nothing new on the ship, but the way Camille played, it were like she was planning a war or something. And she only spurred River on. River, who was normally so quiet, almost invisible, was suddenly leaping off the railings and stealthily attacking people from under the stairs.

Grounding them didn't work, neither.

And now...

"What in tyen shiao-duh are you doing, girl?" he shouted, uncaring about the fact that everyone but him and Camille had gone to bed about two hours ago.

Camille bit her lip, pausing on the metal beam she was currently balanced on. Hands out to her sides, she teetered a bit before regaining her center. "Thinking."

"Thinkin'." He stormed down the hall to where she was currently, and very slowly, walking. "You could fall. One misstep, and your a smear on my hold, and I don't fancy much cleanin' it up. This is beyond reckless. It's insane. Get down."

"I'm perfectly safe as long as no one comes out and starts screaming at me. *Then* I might be in trouble. But no one is stupid enough to..." Camille took another step and immediately slipped.

Mal yanked her off the beam by the arm, wrenching it roughly. She fell in a tangle of limbs, crashing into him. He stumbled back, arms going around her waist, and crashed into the wall.

"Well," she said breathlessly. "That weren't stupid neither." Camille put her free hand on his chest and looked up at him with a crooked smile.

"What is wrong with you? We have a job tomorrow that you keep stressing is so very important, and now you're risking your life for what? A thrill?"

"I was fine, Mal." She rolled her eyes and pressed into him. "It ain't nothing I haven't done before."

He looked at her in disbelief. "You do it again on my ship, and I'm tossin' you out the airlock, ya hear?"

She smirked. "Aye, aye Captain."

"Ben de po fu," Mal swore at her. "I mean what I say, woman. Stop doin' things that's gonna get you killed."

Color flared in her cheeks. "You can't tell me what to do, liu koushui de biaozi he houzi de ben erzi," she shot back. "I'm a passenger, not your gorram crew. Not only that, but I'm lettin' you tag along with me on *my* mission, and if you piss me off, I'm revoking your invitation."

"I shoulda known your word weren't worth nothin'. A liar like you..."

"Oh, come on, Mal." Camille pushed away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't go actin' like your pure as the driven snow and I'm just some jian huo. You lie, too. And I ain't lying about... anything you need to know."

"Like who the hell you are?" Mal stepped closer. "Why has everyone on board 'cepting Jayne said that you remind them of River? Why do you know how to do all the stuff you do? Who do you work for and *why*? Who *are* you, Camille, 'cause if I have to trust you with my crew's life tomorrow, I sure as hell deserve to know the truth."

A stubborn set to her chin, Camille backed against the railing. Shaking her head in tight little shakes, she said, "Why can't you ask for yourself, for once Mal? Why do you always have to hide behind your crew, pretendin' like you don't care nothin' at all for anyone personally?"

"I have to think of my crew. Without them, I'm just a man in a ship, floating around the black. They're my family."

"And I ain't." Before Mal could say anything, she sniffed and said, "Not that it matters. I mean, I'm already in love, right? Just because he don't want me, doesn't mean I have to throw myself at the only man in years who don't want me like I am a jian huo." She rubbed her nose. "Jayne wants me." Camille met his eyes, daring him to say something.

Ignoring the flare of hurt and anger in his chest, Mal managed evenly, "That he does. And you're a grown woman, right? Don't know why a woman in love needs another man, but..."

"Ever wanted someone who wanted you back but wouldn't touch you?"

"Yes."

She started, then nodded, glancing towards Inara's shuttle. "Don't understand why you didn't just walk in there and kiss her." Camille looked at him, at his lips. "I'm sure after fightin' a few minutes, she woulda kissed you back and... and you could be in there right now."

Mal leaned back against the bulkhead, positioning himself right across from her. Mirroring her posture, he said, "Don't think I never thought about it. It's hell, bein' in love and bein' so close. Is that why you're out here? So you don't have to be near him?"

"Partly. But also because, back home... at the base, whatever, it's just... the same, day after day. I'm... I was ready for a change. Somethin' new every day." She sighed and slumped. "But maybe I do need the routine." Camille uncrossed her arms and rubbed on hand over the railing. "When I get bored or nervous, I need structure or I start acting out."

"What do you do when there ain't any tight-ropes for you to balance on?"

"Sex."

"Of course."

"That weren't a come-on. I get that you don't want me, okay? I'll stop."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "It ain't that I don't want you, Camille. I.... I do. But I ain't like you. We talked about this. I..."

"Mal," she interrupted.

When Mal looked at her, she looked completely different. Younger--and he was pretty sure that if she was twenty, it was only just--and suddenly... vulnerable. And that was vulnerable she hadn't been while bleeding and in pain on the medical table. This was deeper. More painful.

Like he was seein' her for the first time.

She took a hesitant step closer, brow furrowed, hands in tight fists. "I'm not... Sex for me ain't about just the physical. When I have sex, I get... wrapped up in the other person. Their feelings and emotions and body and... mind. I choose partners carefully. I'd never... with Jayne." Camille stopped a hair's breath away from him and looked into his eyes. "He's too loud. And Simon's nice, but he's... like a brother because I am." She just stopped talking.

"Camille?"

"I don't want you to stop wantin' me," she whispered, eyes dropping to his shirtfront.

He snorted. "You torture people?"

"No."

"Deal in slaves?"

"No."

"Work or support the Alliance?"

She smacked him on the stomach with the back of her hand.

He grasped her wrist gently and tugged her to him. "Then I can't imagine not wantin' you."

Camille raised her face, standing on her toes as she tried to tug him down to her. "Mal, please."

"I would. And I really, *really* want to, but the last time I slept with someone before a big..." He stopped and shook his head and said instead, "The last time I slept with anyone, she died the next day. I ain't superstitious, mind you, but I can't tempt fate." Mal cupped her face in the palm of his hand. "Not with you."

"No offense," she said, lookin' unhappy, "but as a woman who's last lover won't sleep with her anymore, I ain't so much moved by the sentiment as frustrated." She sighed and rested her head against his chest. "I can't sleep. I can't stop thinkin' about tomorrow, and we've already been over it a million times. But it's keepin' me up, and I don't know how to deal with it."

"Which is why you're out here?"

"It was calmin'."

Mal hesitated. On the one hand, the idea niggling in his mind was somethin' that, most of the time, he'd never do. Then again, he never really had a chance to invite anyone down to his bunk just to sleep. Or for sex, really; that sort of stuff was kept off ship since he never found a woman he'd been interested in tryin' to keep aboard.

On the other hand, he was gonna have to depend on Camille tomorrow. Yeah, he was good at what he did, but his plans did have a tendency to go a bit askew at times. And he really didn't fit into the hoity-toity world they were goin' into. Last time, he'd taken Kaylee and stuck out worse than a sore thumb; Camille, though, swore she could blend in so well, that no one would be able to tell she weren't born into the world. And, from there, she'd help him from doing anything too stupid. If she were tired 'cause she wasn't able to sleep, tomorrow might not go as smooth as he'd like.

Still. He didn't want her gettin' the wrong idea. She was too young and too flighty. Even though she said she wanted to stay, Mal had no doubt that she'd be out of his life soon, in a year at most. Best not to be getting to attached.

"Well, why don't we go to the dinin' room, get something to drink, and you can lie down on the couch."

"And how will that be different from lying down in my room?"

Mal shrugged. "I'll be there. I can read to you, if you like."

Camille wrinkled her nose and cocked her head. "You're gonna read to me?"

"My momma used to read to me when I couldn't sleep. I figure, some tea, kick your... well, you ain't wearin' shoes, but kick your feet up, then, lay back and listen to stories about life on the range."

Her arms slid around him until they were pressed tightly together. "And, when you're reading to me, where are you gonna be?"

"Well," he replied, voice dropping a bit, "I figured that, seein' as how tomorrow we'll be playin' married in the eyes of the Beaumont society, we might as well practice being comfy together. Platonic-like, at least."

She nodded and raised up on her toes once again. "Sounds like a good idea. I mean, we wouldn't want people thinkin' that we don't like each other. We want them to think we're in love."

Mal was in deep go-se. "Right."

"Right." She licked her lips, eyes fluttering shut as Mal lowered his mouth into hers.

Her lips parted slightly and tongue brushed against the bow of his lips. Then she lowered herself back down. "We better get that tea started, Captain, or... or I ain't gonna stop. And I don't want to die tomorrow."

"Don't worry," Mal said. He pressed his lips against her forehead. "Tomorrow is gonna go as easy as pie."

tyen shiao-duh = "name of all that's sacred"
Ben de po fu = "stupid impetuous woman"
liu koushui de biaozi he houzi de ben erzi = Stupid son of a drooling whore and a monkey.
jian huo = cheap floozy

* * *

The next day passed much faster than Camille would have liked. After being woken by the giggles and leers from the crew, Camille and Mal had both been thrown into a whirlwind of activity. Over breakfast, they discussed everyone's roles for the heist. Afterwards, Camille and Mal walked through the layout of Rutledge's house, quizzing each other until the knew where every bathroom, ever alcove, and every hallway was. Camille's contact--Fredrick--had given them both a blueprint of the house as well as pictures. On the off chance Camille or Mal went blind before the party, they'd still be able to navigate successfully.

Not that Camille was planning on letting anyone go blind. But she did make them both walk around the hold, which she'd set up as close to the main hall and ballroom as she could, blindfolded.

Mal only crashed into two walls before he swore at her and refused to do it anymore.

Before Camille let him go, however, she forced him to learn two more dances. "We have to blend in," she'd insisted.

"The last thing I want is to blend in with a buncha limp-wristed, mealy mouthed purple-belly lovers," he'd snapped back.

"Do you want your big huge diamond or not?"

That shut him up.

The dress only needed a few final adjustments. Camille had cut the pattern a little crooked; costuming had always been her worst class back at base. She couldn't cut in a straight line to save her life. Luckily, Inara was terrific with a needle and thread and, although the dress didn't turn out exactly like the pattern showed, it was still elegant enough to pass in society and wouldn't get in Camille's way if she needed to climb down the side of the building or anything.

Hair and make-up were a little more complicated. Fredrick, who lived in the bolt hole on Beaumont, didn't have any red wigs, and the fabric matched her current color. However, she couldn't go to a party with her hairstyle; she'd stick out and be laughed at. Fancy Alliance women all had long hair.

Inara saved the day again, suggesting hair extensions. Fredrick had some blond hair at the bolt hole; Camille dyed it to match her hair and Inara helped to arrange it so it looked, if not natural, then at least tasteful. She borrowed make-up from Inara, too, just because she could, and, by nineteen thirty hours, Camille was bejeweled, coiffed, and painted so perfectly, she looked like she was a Companion.

Except for the weapons hidden underneath her dress, of course. Generally, Companion's were more welcoming in their choice of undergarments.

"Wow," was Mal's response when Camille emerged from Inara's shuttle.

"That's all you can say?" Kaylee protested. "She's beautiful!"

Mal looked Camille up and down, nodded and said again, "Wow."

Camille flushed, unable to stop her reaction. "You're pretty wow yourself," she replied, trying to remember not to lick her lips nervousness or hunger at the sight of Mal.

He stepped towards her and tentatively took her hand. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be. You guys?" She glanced at Zoe and Jayne, who were armed with both weapons and radios. They were both going to be positioned and hidden outside the house, ready to assist with escape if a quick one was needed. Wash was staying behind with Serenity's engines on and ready to go; Camille wanted to be able to leave the minute everyone was onboard.

"We ready," Zoe said. "You going on ahead now?"

Camille glanced at Mal, who nodded. "Inara, I thought you were goin' to the party, too," Mal said as he helped Camille put on her wrap. He looked up at Inara, who was still standing on the upper level.

Inara shook her head. "It turns out my client would rather meet me here tonight." She had a sort of mysterious smile on her face and she met Camille's eyes.

Mal glanced at Camille, then up at Inara. "I don't like this. You shoulda..."

"Frederick hired her," Camille broke in. She slipped her hand into Mal's and tugged at him. "I talked it over with both him and Inara and said I'd be more comfortable if they were both on the ship. Just in case."

"You think something is going to happen that we need them here?"

Camille frowned, tried to shake off the heavy feeling that'd settled in her stomach and said, "No. Of course not. It's just... speed is of the essence and all, and I want her here. And it might be good to have my contact on board."

"Why?"

"Can we just get a move-on?" Jayne broke in irritably. "If I'm gonna be sittin' around all night, at least let's do something."

"Yeah. Let's go." Gripping Mal's hand more tightly, she led him from the ship and into the cool night air.

As they walked along the streets that were just now coming alive with the night, Camille tried to pinpoint what was wrong. All day, as much as she'd tried to ignore it, she'd felt... off. For no reason, her monitor had gone off three times and her blood chemistry was still slightly lower than normal. And she was anxious. Sleeping with Mal on the couch had helped a little, but something was still wrong and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

If she was smart, she'd call this off. A psychic couldn't afford to ignore her feelings, and Camille was definitely ignoring hers. But River had seem to be fine, for the most part. A little distant and definitely dreamier than normal, but she didn't seem anxious or upset. So... maybe Camille was just being....

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed when Mal suddenly dragged her the bushes that lined the walkway to Rutledge's house.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath hot on her face. "I'm sorry, I have to..." And then he was kissing her.

Camille moaned softly and reached up to wind her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. His tongue breeched her mouth, twining with her own and his calloused palms rubbed up her spine, caressing the bare skin where the back dipped.

"God, you're so beautiful," Mal said. "What the hell are you doin' to me?"

She rose onto her toes, trying to follow his mouth and he pulled away. Her mind had expanded out of her skull, delving into his until it swirled around her, making her feel drunk.

"Mal." She kissed him, pressing her body into his, feeling his heat seep through her dress, warming her.

"Okay. Okay, we gotta stop." Mal straightened and tried to untangle himself from her.

"No. Please."

"Camille, we have a job. Two jobs. We can't just... mess around in the bushes."

Sanity penetrated her haze. She forced herself to think, rubbing her forehead, trying not to give into the feelings churning in her body that told her to jump him now.

She had a job to do. "Right. Right." Camille shook her head and breathed deeply. "All right. Let's get in there." She stretched and looked at him with a crooked smile. "If I'd've known all it would take to get you hot is to dress all pretty, I woulda done it weeks ago."

Returning her crooked smile, Mal stepped into her and put his hands on her waist. "It's different tonight. We're married, ain't we Mrs. ...."

"Lee," Camille reminded him. "And don't you know that properly married members of the Alliance don't sexually molest each other in public, Mr. Lee? Or ever, as far as I can tell."

"Yeah, I knew there was a reason I never wanted to be a part of society." He gently pulled a twig from her hair and tucked it into a pocket. Then, threading his arm through hers, Mal led Camille out of the bushes and into the party.

It was show time.

* * *

Last time he'd been to one of these shindigs, Mal had felt greener than a kid seeing the stars for the first time. Only he hadn't been impressed by the glitz and glamour, just... overwhelmed and turned off. This time, though, it was different. What with Camille dressing him, teaching him how to walk, and hanging off his arm like a jewel shining on plain leather strap, Mal felt not like he belonged, but like he blended in.

In other words, no one paid him any notice unless it was to compliment him on his wife.

She really was a chameleon, too. Everything about her was different here than on the ship. Her voice was muted so she talked like any lady here, and her grammar was more like the Tam's than his own. She moved like liquid, smiled demurely, and cast her eyes downwards any time anyone paid her any heed.

Truth be told, Mal was enjoying showing her off. She made it so easy, hanging off his arm like he was her protector or something, and smiling at him over the shoulder of the few men who asked her to dance. Camille fit in this world and because she did, she made him less conspicuous.

The necklace was paraded through on Mrs. Rutledge's neck about forty-five minutes into the part. The necklace itself was a silver rope; from it hung a huge, deep blue diamond shaped in a heart. The heart was surrounded by smaller diamonds that sparkled and shone in the lamplight. It was gaudy and ugly except for the color, but Tyber was right: it'd haul in a fortune.

"All right, they're puttin' it away," Camille said, returning to Mal's side. She'd been asked to dance by a man twice Mal's age who'd spent the entire time gazing down her top. Mal had wanted to kill him, but Camille had kept flicking secret smiles his way as reassurance.

"How long do we wait?" Still throwing dirty looks at the dirty old man, Mal put his arm around Camille's waist and pulled her to him.

"Fifteen minutes should do it." She looked up at him and smiled. "You remember the way?"

"Out that door, down the hall, up a flight of steps. Third door on the left. What I ain't clear on is how we're getting in there."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Dunno that I'd be here if I didn't."

Camille smiled tightly at him, then pat her hair. "Then watch for my signal." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then wend her way through the room to the buffet table. Mal watched as she put together a plate, smiling and flirting with the men in that area, blushing bashfully when a woman spoke to her.

He watched, trying to figure out what on earth she was doing when, just as she raised a whipped cream cover strawberry to her own berry-stained lips, she bumped into Rutledge himself.

The man grabbed her immediately, steadying her. Camille, who had a smudge of cream on her lip, said something to him. They fell into conversation, Camille at her flirty best, touching his arm, batting her eyelashes. She laughed softly, blushing, when he wiped the cream from her mouth and Mal just managed to stop himself from charging across the room.

But he didn't. Instead he watched as Camille convinced Rutledge to dance with her. He watched as they moved gracefully across the dance floor as they minutes ticked by and then, exactly fifteen minutes after the necklace had been put away, Camille suddenly went crashing to the ground.

Mal rushed across the floor to his "wife's" side. "You all right, darlin'?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she gasped, allowing both Rutledge and Mal hauled her to her feet. Camille immediately fell into Rutledge, crying out with pain.

"What is it, my dear?" Rutledge asked, all gentlemanly concern. He held her tenderly, gazing at her with more emotion than he'd even shown his wife.

A flush colored Camille's cheeks, and, looking embarrassed, she said, "I think I hurt my ankle." Turning to Mal, she pressed her cheek into his arm and said, "I'm so sorry."

"No, it's all right," he said, arms coming around her automatically. "I guess we should be going back to the hotel, then."

"No!" Camille protested, pulling back. "I'll be fine. I just need to sit down for awhile. Rest it a bit." She turned back to Rutledge and fixed him with a blue-eyed stare. "I don't suppose.... I feel so embarrassed for falling like this in front of everyone, but I don't want to leave this lovely party. Is there anywhere...."

Rutledge nodded and took her hand to kiss it. "Of course there is, my dear. Come with me. You can sit in my library until you feel better." Tucking Camille's hand in the crook of his elbow as if Mal didn't exist, Rutledge led them out of the ballroom and down the hall. As Rutledge opened the door to the library, Mal glanced further down the hall and saw the flight of stairs they needed to get up to.

Hopefully, Rutledge didn't have some kind of elaborate security system. But Camille promised that she'd taken care of all that.

"Rest here, my dear." Rutledge settled Camille in a comfortable chair, then turned to Mal. "Can I send anything for you?"

"No, thanks, we'll be fine," Mal said. He held out his hand. "I appreciate this, sir. Seems like I'm always telling her to be careful, and she's always twisting those pretty little ankles of hers no matter what I say."

Rutledge laughed and glanced at Camille, who was caressing her "hurt" ankle. "Well, when you have such a delicate little flower, you must be prepared to care for it."

"And that I do."

Rutledge simply smiled tightly, bowed to Camille, and left.

"Sex is how you deal with everyone, isn't it?" Mal asked when the door was closed.

Camille shrugged and rose, smoothing her dress down. "It works. Come on."

The library was connected to three other rooms that led parallel to the hall. Camille led Mal through them, then out into the hall and up the flight of stairs. The room they needed to get into was locked, but Camille pulled an electronic key from her top; after pressing it into the lock and hitting a code, the door opened.

"And there's your necklace," Camille said, nodding at the necklace sitting in its display case. She crossed the room to the desk, pulling the jump drive out. "Don't touch it yet; I'm powering down the security system... now." Her fingers flew over the computer keyboard and, just as she said now, the lights around the necklace turned off.

Mal quickly grabbed it, replacing it with a mock up made of glass. It weren't a pretty or as big, but it weighed the same and the system was fooled. When the lights clicked back on a minute later, the alarm stayed silent.

"You ready?" he asked, coming behind her.

"Give me a minute." Camille's face was a mass of concentration as she set the computer up for download. The driver was in place, but she was typing in codes and stuff that Mal couldn't quite understand faster than his eyes could follow. Her bottom lip was caught in her teeth, lipstick now staining the pearly whites.

She hit enter then straightened. "Okay, it's downloading. Unzip me."

Mal handed her the necklace and unzipped the back of her dress. At the small of her back was a small, flesh-colored pouch made of an insulated, putty-like material. Camille had hidden her weapons from the scanners with the same materials, and now she was being turned into a human cargo hold. Carefully, Mal pulled the pouch open, then took the necklace and pressed it against her back. "Comfy?" he asked as he patted the putty onto her skin.

"Oh, yeah," she said wryly. "Wonderfully so."

He started to zip the dress back up and hesitated a moment. Then, before the last of her lower back was covered, Mal bent down and kissed her spine.

Camille shivered. "You're makin' a lot of promises here, Mal. You better deliver."

"Makin' a lotta money always puts me in an adventuring mood."

She turned and put her arms around his neck. "You consider sleepin' with me an adventure?"

Mal smiled. "Somethin' like that." And he bent down to kiss those tantalizing lips once again.

"Crime makes you amorous, don't it?" Camille said breathlessly when he released her.

"I guess it does, especially when my partner in crime is a pretty little thing."

"Simon not pretty enough for you?"

"Oh, he's pretty, sure, but he's prickly. And he gets nervous when doin' crime." Mal frowned, then said, "Actually, it is rather cute. Can't think why I ain't never kissed him out on a job."

Camille smiled at him before she turned back to the computer. "I shouldn't be complanin'; works out better for me that..." She stopped talking abruptly, her body turning to stone.

"Camille?"

For a long moment, she said nothing, just stood there, her head cocked in an eerier imitation of River, fingers frozen over the keyboard, somehow not even in the room. And then, just as Mal was starting to get really worried, a facade seemed to crack and even though she was back, Mal got the sense that the girl in the room with him wasn't the Camille he'd been flirting with the moment before.

"They're here," she whispered in an icy cold tone that sliced through Mal. Then, louder and with a lot more panic, "They're here. Aiya huai le! We've gotta go." She hit a few buttons on the computer and swore again. Then, pressing one of her earrings, the one doubling as her comlink, she said, "Zoe, Jayne, we're under attack. Meet me and Mal at the end of the street, guns on. Tell Wash to fire up Serenity; we've got to take off as soon as we get back."

"Camille..." Mal started, but Camille wasn't listening.

Camille yanked the drive from the computer and stuffed it down her top. "Tell Book and Simon to arm up, too. They might go for the ship." Then, grabbing Mal's hand, Camille pulled a gun from its holster on her thigh and shot open the window. "Let's go."

"What's goin' on?" he demanded, running with her to the broken window. He tried to pull her back so he hit the cracked glass first, but the damn girl ran into it full speed, smashing through the glass with her left shoulder.

Glass shattered around her, ripping into her skin and dress, giving rise to rivers of blood down her face and arms, but it didn't phase her in the least. She burst onto the balcony above the garden, determination making her face hard.

"What the hell," Mal swore, looking at the scene below.

The party guests who just moments before had been talking and laughing were now fleeing from the house, screaming and shouting. A few fell to their knees, hands at their ears, bodies convulsing. When Mal looked closely, he could see that most of the ones that fell were the ones who'd been dancin' with Camille earlier.

"Tamade!" Camille whirled to Mal, hiking up her skirt, baring the putty holding a knife on her thigh. She ripped a couple small pieces off and dropped her skirt once more. "Do you trust me?" she asked, rolling the pieces between her fingers and stepping up to him.

Looking down into her blood-stained face pale in the moonlight with eyes so dark and determined it seemed he'd never seen her before, Mal found himself nodding wordlessly.

Camille rose on her toes and stuffed the putty into his ears. The noise around him dimmed to nothingness. He saw Camille's lips moving.

Frowning, he pointed to his ears.

She rolled her eyes and gestured at his shirt collar, where he'd hidden his com-button. It must have turned off at some point; no wonder he hadn't heard Zoe respond.

"Follow me. We've got to get around to the side."

"What's going on?" he asked.

Furious, Camille shushed him and pointed at his mike; apparently, he'd shouted the last. She didn't answer, though, just slid past him and started leading him away from the panicked party crowd.

They ran over the balcony that surrounded the second level of the house. Every few windows, they had to climb over a small partition that divided each room's balcony from the others. Camille's dress got caught on one, but instead of letting Mal help untangle it, she simply tore it off, ripping the dress up to the waist.

Modesty didn't matter in an escape, and Mal knew that. What he still didn't know was what they were escaping from.

"Here. There's an alley." Camille stopped at the end of the balcony and pointed over the hedge that separated the alley from the grounds. "We'll double back around the mansion and come out on High Street to meet Zoe and Jayne. I'll figure out where to go from there."

"Cam, how are we gonna get into the alley? There's no way through the hedge from here."

"Over." Camille hiked up her skirt to her waist, revealing a thin chord wrapped around it. She pulled the end free and unwrapped it. Then, she started to climb up the railing, when Mal stopped her.

"I can do it." He took the rope from her and flung it over the loop in the railing. He tied it tight, and tested it. "All right. What's your plan?"

"Guess." Camille climbed onto the railing and, holding onto the rope, leaned over the gap to the bushes.

The gap was about six feet wide. Instead of swinging across it like Mal thought she was gonna, Camille leaned out real far, holding the rope, then jumped onto the bushes over the remaining feet. She rolled across the top, since they were cut flat, then disappeared on the other side; Mal heard her land with a thump.

"Hurry up," she said into the comlink.

"Wonderful," Mal grumbled. He pulled the rope back, took hold, and jumped. Crashing into the top, Mal felt twigs and branches scrape his hands and face. He started sliding down the wrong side, but quickly pulled himself up the rope and onto the top of the bushes. With absolutely no grace or any form, he scrambled to the top and somersaulted haphazardly over the other side to land next to Camille.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Fine. Wonderful. Let's go."

Camille took off down the street, leading him past the back exit of the house. There were people comin' out this was, too, mostly servants and the like. The back gate was flung open, and Mal could see light pouring out from the house. Inside was a disaster area, with food and tables and chairs all over the place, flung around. People ran back and forth, trying to get away from somethin', and Mal saw yet another familiar lookin' guy--a young servant who'd flirted with Camille--on the ground, blood pouring from his mouth and eyes. What the...

Camille suddenly tripped, a gasping moan wending from her throat over the com. He heard her whispering frantically, almost too soft for him to hear, something that sounded like, "Hands of blue, two by two," over and over again.

Mal pulled Camille to her feet, propelling her past the gate. She was still muttering under her breath, never stopping as she ran. "This way!" Camille grabbed Mal's wrist and turned the corner, down another side street.

"Camille, what's going on?" Mal asked. He'd finally gotten his gun free from where it'd been puttied to his thigh; he felt less naked now that he was armed, but he didn't know exactly what he was supposed to be defending themselves against.

"They're after me," was her clipped response.

"Who?"

"*Them*." Them was said with great significance and terror. Mal had no idea who They were, and was about to ask again when Camille went flying.

"Camille!"

Blood blossomed from her back, spreading over the light green fabric in a tidal wave.

Mal whirled, gun drawn. At the end of the street were two men, both dressed in suits. One held a large gun and he was lowering it slowly. A nearby lamp caught his hand as he lowered it; he appeared to be wearing blue gloves, but once his hand was back in the shadows, Mal couldn't tell.

The man next to the gun toting fella was shorter, but otherwise looked the same. His hand was out, too, and he was holding a silver wand. It looked like he was frowning, and he shook the wand with a blue-gloved hand of his own.

The two men exchanged looks.

"Mal," Camille groaned. She'd struggled to her feet, holding her side. "Shoot them."

"But..."

Camille pulled another gun out and fired at the men. One shot went wild, but the other hit the shorter man in the head. Both he and his wand went down.

"Let's go," she said, her voice shaking. Dropping the gun to her side, she started running once more.

"What about the other one?" Mal asked, catching up to her.

"They're early models," Camille replied, not making any sense. "They can't function without the other. He'll have to go back and get a new partner."

"Then why are we still runnin?" He assumed she knew what she was talking about even if he had no clue.

"There might still be more." She picked up speed, heedless of her wound.

Zoe and Jayne were waiting with the mule on High Street. Camille leapt on and handed both of them putty, ordering them to put it in their ears. Zoe complied after a quick glance at Mal, but Jayne whined and complained until Camille punched him in the jaw and said, "Put them in your gorram ears unless you want what passes for brains to leak out through your nose."

Surprisingly, that shut him up.

The trip back to Serenity was quiet and tense. Mal didn't envy Camille, the only one without putty in her ears. He could see Jayne complaining loudly the whole time, but Mal had switched his comlink off so he didn't have to hear it. From the serene and focused expression on Zoe's face, it seemed like she'd done the same. Camille, though, kept shooting Jayne dirty looks in between bouncing anxiously and straining as if she could make the mule go faster just by wishing.

Camille leapt off the mule the moment it hit Serenity's ramp. His com was still off, but even so, Mal could faintly hear her shouting, "Wash! Go, now!"

Mal pulled the putty out of his ears and jumped off after her, the blood staining the back of her dress reminding him of her injury. The moment he took the putty out, he could hear River and Kaylee. River was in the infirmary, screaming, shouting, and throwing things as Kaylee, Simon, Book, and a man Mal didn't know tried to calm her down.

Mal went to the intercom and hit it. "Wash? We're all on; go."

"Yeah, I got that," Wash replied tightly. "Mind telling Camille to stop breathing down my neck?"

"Camille! Get down here now," he ordered, wondering when the girl had escaped his sight.

The ship shook and engines whined. A moment later, they were in the air.

Camille appeared from the cockpit, white and shaking. "Yeah?" Her gun was clutched tightly in her hand.

Mal gestured at the infirmary, which River was now trying to break free of. "Mind seeing what you can do to help River calm down? Since the two of you seem to share some kinda special bond."

"Okay." Still holding the gun, she sprinted down the stairs to the infirmary. "River. River!" Camille pushed Kaylee and Book aside, pulling River to her. "It's okay. We're safe. It's okay." She kissed River's cheek, smoothing her hair down. "We're fine."

"Two by two, hands of blue," River moaned, holding Camille tightly.

"Killed one of 'em. Don't know how many others." Camille shuddered and unwound herself from River's embrace. She turned to the stranger. "Hey, Fredrick. Thanks for helping out."

The man, whom Mal now recognized as Camille's contact, shook his head ruefully. "Didn't do much help. Why ain't she medicated?"

"Garrison didn't spring her. I'm gonna take her there as soon as we're able. How many days if we go direct?"

"Two weeks," Fredrick answered warily. "But if we was just chased by the projects, Garrison won't let us go direct."

Camille nodded and scratched at her side. "Probably right. I'll call him." She turned like to go and ran straight into Mal.

Mal grabbed her by the shoulders before she could step around her. "Mind tellin' me what's going on? Who are you plannin' to contact?"

"My boss." She continued to scratch, harder, this time closer to her armpit. Her face screwed up like she were in pain or something.

"And you're givin' him River why?"

Camille furrowed her brow, scratching vigorously. "Because... because...."

"Camille, what's on your arm?" Kaylee gasped suddenly.

She looked down and eyes went wide. "What the hell?" The knife was in Camille's hand before Mal could stop her. To everyone's horror, she plunged the knife into her arm, just above some kinda squirming bump under her skin.

"Lao tian ye!" Simon exclaimed. He shoved Kaylee aside, trying to get to Camille. "Camille, stop it!"

"Get it out, get it out, get it out!" Camille screamed, digging into her arm with the knife.

The bug-thing under her skin moved, running away from the knife. Blood gushed from her arm, slicking the floor around it as she went after whatever it was, panic in her voice, face, and hands.

"Stop it," Mal ordered, grabbing at her hand.

She elbowed him in the stomach. "Get it out!" she screamed again.

"Help me," Simon said, trying to get hold of Camille.

She started screaming in earnest, fighting and kicking as Simon, Mal, Fredrick, and Jayne tried to wrest the knife from her. "Get it out!"

"We're trying, just stop fighting us," Mal grunted, struggling. He'd forgot how gorram strong she was.

"Where's her medication?" Fredrick asked. He'd gotten one arm and was twisting it behind her back, pinning it.

"Her what?"

"She can't take medicine," Simon said. He was trying to get her into the room, onto the operating table.

Camille's foot came free of Jayne's hand and kicked him in the groin. Jayne went down with a groan, eyes crossed.

"She can't take painkillers," Fredrick says. "But she's got to have some kinda... carrying case for her meds. The ones that even out her blood level, but she's also got sedatives in case something like this happens."

"Let me go!" Camille shrieked. She ripped her arm free from Mal and clawed at the thing.

"I know where it is!" River said. Then she fled the room.

Book took Camille around the waist and they all managed to get Camille to the table.

"Strap her down," Simon said, moving away for his instruments.

Camille immediately came off the table but was caught by Zoe, who slammed her back down. "Stay," Zoe ordered. She clapped on hand the juncture of Camille's neck and shoulder, trying to block the path of the thing under Camille's skin, which was climbing up towards her neck. "Doctor, you better hurry."

"Do you have her down?"

"Camille," Zoe said loudly, over Camille's cries and struggles. "The doctor is gonna take the thing out, honey, so you better stop fighting us."

"Just get it out," Camille moaned, tears flooding her eyes.

"I got her medicine!" River shouted, flying back into the room. She was holding a book, open, in one hand; in the other, she had a syringe.

Fredrick finished tying Camille's leg down, and then turned to take the book and syringe from River. While he fiddled around with it, Simon returned to the table and made an incision into Camille's skin just above the bump in it.

Camille screamed, arching her back. A sob shook her body and she closed her eyes, shaking.

Without realizing what he was doing, Mal bent over and pressed his forehead into hers. "I'm here, Camille. Just calm down, everythin' is gonna be fine. Just calm down and stay with me. Please."

"Mal?" Camille's eyes opened. She looked barely conscious of what was going on, but she locked onto Mal's

"I'm here." He kissed her, tasting tears and sweat.

"Camille, turn your head," Fredrick said.

"Don't wanna sleep," she moaned.

"Turn your head, and that's an order, Agent."

Camille sniffed, kissed Mal, then turned her head. Mal straightened and watched as Fredrick slid a needle into the base of Camille's neck and injected something. A moment later, Camille went limp.

"She gonna be okay?" Mal asked nervously. He took her hand and squeezed it.

Fredrick nodded, taking the needle out. "She'll be fine. We just have to monitor her blood chemistry and all that. I'll show you how to do it, Doc; I was trained to deal with them before I was sent out, but you got the medical experience." He set the needle down. "What's wrong with her?"

"This." Wielding a pair of tweezers, Simon extracted a metal device from Camille's arm. It was beeping and clicking, waving tiny little metal claws that had bits of blood and flesh in them.

"Kill it," River ordered, voice full of dread. "Kill it now."

"It's a machine, River, it's not..."

River snatched it from her brother and slammed it against the wall. "Now they can't find us."

Mal glanced from her, to Fredrick, and down at Camille's still body. Simon and Zoe were working to stop the blood still pouring from Camille's wounds and patch her up.

"Anyone mind telling me what the hell is goin' on and exactly who this girl is?"

River frowned, tugged at her hair, then sighed, "I will. Let him call his boss first. I want to be fixed, and so does she."

* * *

The ship was unfamiliar. Unfamiliar and empty. The deck was cold and hard underneath Camille's feet and her head felt heavy and dizzy.

"Hello?" she called. She tried opening her mind, but could sense nothing. It was like she was wrapped in cotton. "Is anyone here?"

"Camille?" a voice drifted down to her.

Fisting her dress in her fists, Camille followed the voice. It sounded familiar, comforting. It was the voice of a person Camille had spent nights wrapped around, huddling under the covers less for warmth than for comfort.

"Trinity?" She continued through the ship.

Halfway through, the bodies started to appear. Bodies with their throats slit and holes in their chest. Bodies with glassy eyes and knives in their brains and absolutely none with blood pouring out of their eyes and ears.

No blue hands, then.

Trinity was in the cockpit. The pilot and a couple other bodies were scattered around.

"What happened?"

The seat turned. Trinity was dressed all in black, a pistol in her lap. Her shirt was torn up, ribbons hanging down the back, the collar cut away at her neck. Her face was pale and streaked with mascara-black tear tracks. Trinity was three years older than Camille, smarter than perhaps even River, and the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. Powerful, too. River would probably be just as powerful once she got everything under control.

Sometimes, Trinity had been her lover. But, most of the time, Camille just wanted Trinity for comfort. She was like a sister in the way Prophet was a brother. Okay, not *really*, because they all slept together, often all at once, but they had a bond, the three of them, that held them together. It was like Trinity wasn't complete without two other people in her life and Prophet and Camille...

They just were never complete.

"What are you doing, Trin?" Camille asked, when Trinity simply stared at her, blank-eyed.

"Going back."

"Back?"

She nodded woodenly. "They got me."

"They..." It clicked. "No. How?"

"They almost got you." Trinity raised her hand and touched the monitor at the base of her skull. Then she pointed to Camille's arm.

She looked down. Her entire armed was bandaged and throbbing, blood seeping through the gauze. "That thing. They shot me with some kind of..."

"Computer chip. It crawls under the skin until it finds the monitor. Then it locks on and activates our program. Since we're malfunctioning, we head back to them by any means necessary."

"So you killed everyone."

Trinity nodded. "They're trying to access the mainframe back at base, too. Use me to get back to everyone." Trinity inhaled deeply and lifted the gun. "I can't let that happen."

Alarmed, Camille stepped forward. "Trin, what are you going to do?"

"What I have to do." She met Camille's eyes. "Tell Prophet I'm sorry. Tell him I love him."

"Trinity, no. Trin..." Feeling like the air was made of soup, Camille struggled forward, trying to get to her. "Don't."

"I love you too, Camille." She placed the gun at the base of her neck. Squeezed.

"No!" Camille shrieked, bolting upright.

"Shhhh, mei mei, it's all right. It's all right. You're safe." Simon was at her side in a heartbeat, arms going around her and holding her to his chest. His hand stroked her hair gently as he rocked her, body tense, like he was holding a wild animal whom he had to soothe with great care.

Camille's heart thudded in her chest, blood rushing through her in a torrent. The infirmary seemed to waver around her dimly, like her eyesight was closing in on her. It took a moment to realize that there wasn't anything wrong with them, her eyelashes were just heavy with sleep gunk like she'd been asleep for a few days. Her mouth was sticky and dry, her body ached, and she felt as if she were on fire.

"Camille?" Simon released her from the embrace, but kept his hands on her arms as he stepped back, looking into her face warily.

He had a bruise on his cheek and his bottom lip was cut.

"Yes?" she rasped when she realized that he wanted a response.

Relief broke over his face and Simon smiled. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Horrible." Trinity had blown off her head. Her face had exploded, blood everywhere, and wasn't it on her or something? Didn't he notice?

"Bad dream?" He eased her back onto her back and pulled a blanket over her.

Camille shook her head and said thickly, "Not a dream." She lifted her hand to rub her eyes. There were bandages wrapped around her arm and an IV stuck in her hand.

Simon lifted the head of the bed so she was sitting up. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," she croaked. "Sore. My arm hurts." Camille gazed at the fingers on her right hand and tried to wiggle them. "I can't move my fingers."

"There was some nerve damage from the knife wounds. Muscle damage, too. My equipment here isn't good enough to heal it, but the damage seems minimal. I've no doubt that the equipment on Briss will be enough to reverse it." Simon smiled at her as he looked at her vitals on the monitors. Then, he pulled Camille's loose shift aside at the neck and carefully cut away a bandage. "You seem to be healing all right. Of course, lying still and not ripping open your stitches will help with that." He cleaned the wound and re-bandaged it.

"Where is everyone? All right?"

Simon nodded and smoothed his hand over Camille's forehead. "Everyone is fine. You were our only casualty. Thank God you came back when you did; Fredrick found out that Blue Hands were massing in on the docks for River. You, Mal and the others got back just in time." He took her good hand and squeezed. "Thank you."

"Don't," she said flatly, pulling her hand away. "What happened to your face?"

"You've had a few moments of... wakefulness since we put your out. You weren't yourself, though. Garrison said it was normal, though, the fits. You lashed out and..."

"Right." Camille closed her eyes and pressed her good hand into them. Sedatives did that to them, which is one reason they stayed away from any medication that didn't level out their blood chemistry. But, on rare occasions, it was necessary.

"Do you feel strong enough for food?"

She shrugged, opening her eyes.

Simon checked the monitor above her head, and turned away. "I'll bring something in for you in a moment. First..."

Simon kept talking. Camille tuned him out. She reached above her head, switched off the monitors, then yanked off the sticky pads that had been placed on her chest and forehead. The IV needle came out next, followed by a rush of blood. Heedless, she climbed out of bed and left the infirmary, wrapping the blanket around her for warmth.

There were no bodies as she climbed the steps to the cockpit, but, then, she hadn't really expected any. Trinity hadn't been on Serenity and Camille'd gotten that horrible metal thing out of her before it'd attached itself to her monitor.

Well. Simon had gotten it out. Camille had just ripped her muscles and nerves up.

"I hear there's a lake. A secluded one," Wash was saying as Camille entered the cockpit. "Think we can make an escape to it one day?"

"Depends on if the captain wants to stay or not," Zoe replied. She was sitting next to Wash, her feet in his lap.

"Oh, he will. He's not going to leave until Camille..."

"Camille," Zoe interrupted, feet dropping.

"Right, Camille. He's... Oh, *Camille*." Wash turned. "Welcome back, Camille. You're... you're bleeding."

Camille glanced at them, deemed them to be non-threatening, and went to the Cortex.

"Um, Camille? What are you doing?" Zoe asked, sounding alarmed.

She punched in Garrison's code and waited to see if he'd answer the wave.

"Can you at least make her stop bleeding on the controls?"

The screen flickered and Charleston appeared. "This is Base Camp. Identification?"

"Agent Cam... Just put Garrison on," Camille said tonelessly.

"Identification?"

"Put Garrison on."

"Identifica..."

"Put Garrison on you qiang bao hou zi de liu mang!" she screamed.

Charleston flinched and hesitated. He was about to say something when a hand descended onto his shoulder and Garrison said, "It's all right, Charles. Go monitor another line."

Shooting Camille a dirty look, Charleston rose and was replaced by Garrison.

"Hello, xin ai. I'm glad to see you're awake. I was..."

"Trinity's dead," Camille said flatly.

Garrison looked at her a moment without saying anything, like he was trying to process what she'd said. Then, suddenly, he turned away from the screen and shouted, "Avery! Get Prophet to C-wing immediately." He turned back. "How do you know?"

"I connected with her when I was asleep. The Blue Hands shot her with the same thing they shot me with, only it worked with her. It attaches to the monitor, activates our programming, and sends us back to them." She swallowed. "At any cost. But Trin blew her head off and..." Camille shrugged. "She's dead." She barely noticed that Zoe had taken her hand and was wrapping a cloth around it to stop the bleeding.

"Do you still have the thing Dr. Tam took out of you?"

"It's broken," Zoe replied for her. "River smashed it, but we've still got it in the med bay."

Garrison nodded. "Do you know how long until you get there?"

"Seventy-three hours, give or take," Wash supplied. "And that's at a hard burn."

Seventy-three hours. She'd been out of it for almost two weeks. Two weeks, and she had no memory of what she'd done or said or what had happened. Tian ah.

"Camille. *Camille*," Garrison was saying.

She blinked and forced herself to focus. "Yes?"

"Dr. Tam is monitoring your blood chem levels. I've explained what he needs to look for, and if he suggests *anything*, I need you to follow his suggestion. We trust him, understand? Dr. Tam is in charge at least until you get here. All right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get rest. Lots of it. If possible, don't sleep alone. Even if you stay in the infirmary, get someone to stay in there with you. And don't worry about your arm; we can fix it."

She nodded hollowly.

"Bao bao, please, take care of yourself. Nothing stupid. Nothing self-destructive. I need you to come home whole."

"Why? So you can have your pretty little doll to play with and show off?"

"Camille..."

"Go to hell." She cut the connection.

"All right, those monitors I had you hooked up to were actually doing something," Simon snapped from behind her. "I swear you are actually worse than the Captain and Jayne combined as a patient."

She turned, but she didn't look at Simon. Her eyes went past him to Mal, who was standing just inside, leaning against the wall.

They looked at each other for a long moment. His eyes were dark and unreadable; her senses were so dull at the moment, she couldn't get a read off him. All she knew as that he seemed completely unreachable and foreboding. A stranger.

His eyes searched her face, moving over it like he was starving and she was the first food he'd seen in days. Then, he blinked breaking eye contact.

"Captain?" Zoe said from Camille's side.

Mal glanced at her. "Everything under control?"

Zoe, Wash, and Simon exchanged looks. "Yes," Simon said slowly. "Everything's fine. I'm just going to take Camille back to the infirmary. Would you..."

"Carry on, then." And then Mal turned and left.

More looks were exchanged. Camille just sat, looking at where Mal had been a moment before.

"Don't supposed it'd help you to know that he ain't left your side since you been sleeping," Zoe said.

Camille just hitched a shoulder.

"He was the only one who could calm you the few times you woke and threw a fit," Simon added.

"Yes, because that's what she wants to hear," Wash said. "Do you even remember that?"

"Don't matter," Camille said. She stood, swaying unsteadily on her feet. "Nothing matters anyway." Wearily, she rubbed her eyes and said, "I'm going back to sleep."

There was a pause, and then Simon took her arm. "I'll take you back. Let's go."

And then, because it was what she'd been programmed to do, Camille followed orders.

* * *

The second time she woke up, she felt a lot more lucid. The dark cloud surrounding her head and heart had dissipated some. She was hungry for real food and didn't feel quite so much like crying or screaming if she didn't cry.

"How does your arm feel?" Simon asked after taking the thermometer from her mouth and recording her temperature in her file.

"A little better, I guess," she said a little doubtfully. She rubbed it, frowning. "Instead of being numb, it's like it just fell asleep and now it's waking up. All pins and needles."

"That's to be expected. And progress, of a sort." Simon smiled at her. "You heal quickly when you rest."

"Even when I don't, really. I was designed to."

A shadow passed over his face, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he unwrapped the bandages from her arm and neck, gloved hands gliding over the scared skin with a tenderness that he hadn't had before he'd known about her. Oh, yes, he'd always been gentle and professional, but now he was almost loving. Whether it was because he was grateful she held the key to finally getting his sister the help she needed, or because Camille was now irrevocably associated with his sister and thus deserving of the same devotion, she didn't know. All she knew was, as nice as if felt to be cared for, she hated to be reminded that she wasn't really a person anymore. She was just a tool the Alliance had created that was now being used by another.

Simon cleared his throat and placed his fingers in the palm of Camille's hand. "Can you feel my fingers?"

She nodded.

"Try to close your hand around them."

Camille bit her lip and tried to get her fingers to respond to her command. Her hand felt puffy and numb. When she curled her fingers even slightly, fire raked down her wrist, causing her to wince and gasp.

"Stop," Simon ordered when she continued to try and close her hand in spite of the pain.

She obeyed and waited for him to chastise her for pushing himself.

He didn't. "All right, try not to use it too much, especially if it's causing you pain. I'm going to take the stitches out of your neck. Lie back."

Camille pulled her feet onto the table and lay back on the bed. Before Simon went to work, he absently tugged her nightgown over her knees, again playing the big brother being concerned for her modesty that Camille wasn't sure she liked. Instead of dwelling on it, or even saying anything, she said, "You know, that device the Blue Hands shot into me don't make much sense."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why did it go up my arm? They shot me in the back. The fastest, easiest way to get to the monitory would have been just to climb straight up." She frowned. "And Trinity's arm wasn't messed up. Her shirt was torn up and cut open, but not her arm. You said that there were others who were attacked?"

Simon nodded.

"I saw one while I was sleeping. Hunter. He'd been tearing his back, too. But... it was different." She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to see what she'd seen while she was sleeping.

<i>"They got me while I was running up the hatch,"</i> Hunter had said while they'd been in contact. <i> "I tripped just a second before I heard the gun go off. Then I felt something hit me in the side. The captain yanked me to my feet, dragged me inside. After we took off, I felt this painful itch under my skin, halfway across my stomach. And, well. You know the rest."</i>

She frowned. "They shot me and Hunter in the back. Same with Trinity, but it just walked right up her spine. Or next to her spine at any rate. Hunter tripped, so it didn't make it in his back. But what about me? They shot me in the back. I should have been like Trinity, but I wasn't. Why?"

There was a look in Simon's eyes. A gleam that was something like understanding. But all he said was, "I don't know."

Camille sat up, causing Simon to jab his scissors into her neck.

"Ayia!" Simon swore. He dropped the scissors and grabbed a piece of gauze. "You are such a brat!"

"So are you. You know something and you're lying to me. What do you know?"

"Nothing, Camille. Just calm down."

"Simon, you do realize you're lying to a reader, right?"

"So your mind's woken back up?" He sounded pleased. Cautiously, as if he wasn't sure if he should be or not, but really, what he wanted didn't matter because, fact was, River and Camille had been turned into readers and nothing was going to change that.

Camille wrinkled her nose and said, "Well. I'm not stupid at any rate, even if I can't read you right now. Exactly. Your mind may be closed, but you're face is an open book." She kicked him in the shin. "Tell me."

Simon sighed and dropped his hands to the table on either side of Camille. "Mal's been staring at that necklace you two stole. There's a chip in the middle and some scratching across the surface. The bullet or devices must have hit it."

"Yeah." Camille tucked her hair behind her ears. "It hit the necklace and couldn't break through the diamond. So it ricochet and missed its mark." She felt cold suddenly, and her stomach started a slow, queasy dance. "I could have killed you all."

"Don't be silly," Simon replied hollowly. "River would have stopped you. You said yourself that she's better trained."

"Stronger psychic," Camille corrected, shivering. She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her. "I'm the solider. And in practice. I don't know..."

"Camille." Simon's hands were on her shoulders now, squeezing gently. He pulled her into him and hugged her tightly. "It didn't happen. You're not dead. You're fine."

"Not fine. Never fine." She fisted his vest, pressing her face into his chest. "You smell good." Catlike, Camille rubbed her face against his chest. "Really good." Her legs hooked around his, pulling him into the bed.

Simon was stiff, holding her away from his body even as she pulled him closer. She mouthed at the buttons on his shirt, undoing them with her tongue and tasting bare skin once she reached it.

"Camille, you need to stop."

Her hands slid over his shoulder and her tongue dipped into the hollow of his throat. "Simon," she whispered. "You're so beautiful." She tilted her head back and pulled his head down.

Simon was straining now, pushing her away. "Please, Camille. Not me. I can't."

She shifted so she was on her knees now, kissing up his neck, not letting him go. "There's no one else." Despite herself, there were tears gathering behind her eyes. Her head ached from straining against the medicine-induced fog blocking her abilities and her body had taken over, acting on instinct to solve the problem.

"Mal," Simon gasped. And then, in a more horrified tone, "Mal. Mal, please, this isn't...Stop it, Camille!" He shoved her away so hard that she toppled backwards over the bed and fell to the other side.

"Pi hua!" Simon swore.

Camille tried to push herself up, but her arm was numb again. Startled by her sudden inability to use it, she fell back to the floor with a soft cry.

The deck reverberated underneath her and two black boots came to rest on either side of her body. "You're looking a mite ruffled, Doc," Mal's sardonic voice said above her. He bent over and lifted Camille easily into his arms. "Why don't you go fix yourself up all pretty again, 'fore someone gets the idea that you're less a doctor than a pi tiao ke."

"Mal..."

"Go."

Simon looked at Camille helplessly before following orders and leaving the infirmary.

"You don't need to be such wang ba dan, you know," Camille said as Mal set her on the bed.

He said nothing as he pulled the shades over all the windows. He moved in quick, decisive moments, almost breaking the blinds off when he pulled them down.

"Mal?" Her heart was pounding and she didn't like feeling closed off from the outside. She was about to slide off the bed when he turned back to her and walked to the bed. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Mal turned the monitors above her bed off, then, face set like stone, eyes as blue as the diamond they'd stolen and just as hard, started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

Camille swallowed and scooted away from him. "What are you doing?"

"I figured it was about time you and me got grindy together. Don't figure that's gonna be much of a problem for you, is it?" He pulled off his suspenders, then dropped his shirt to the floor.

"Why here?"

"From what I understand, this is purely a medical procedure, right? Gets you all comfy in your head and your body all workin' the right way. Makes you stop actin' like you're one step away from a padded cell and throwin' yourself at everyone like a bitch in heat. Ain't I right?"

"Qu di yu, Mal."

He threw his hands out, eyes wide. "What? Am I readin' this wrong? Why didn't you just say before what you was really after, woman? Maybe I wouldn't have been able to service you, but Inara woulda spread her legs or tian yin for you. But, cao, girl, you saved the ship, the least I can do is give you a ride, ain't it?"

Camille slid off the bed and went to him. Mal flinched, but she grabbed him and yanked him down into a kiss.

Mal wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her off the floor. His mouth was hot and demanding, practically attacking hers with a fierceness that took her breath away. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Camille did her best to hang onto him, clumsily lifting her numb arm around his neck as she arched into him.

Her back hit the bed. Mal draped himself on her, kissing down her neck. His hands rucked the nightgown up, and then his big, calloused hands slid up her thighs and cupped her bottom.

"Mal," Camille moaned, undulating under him.

He whispered something against her neck and he pulled her against him tightly. He continued to whisper, his mouth damp on her skin, body shaking with need and anger.

And then, abruptly, he pulled away from her. "You should have told me," he said roughly. He picked his shirt off the floor. "Don't like being used." Without waiting for her to answer, he pulled his shirt on and left.

"Yeah, well, lian jie ju le bu," Camille said tonelessly to the empty air.

Pi hua: shit
pi tiao ke: trick
wang ba dan: bastard
Qu di yu: go to hell
tian yin: eat pussy
cao: fuck
lian jie ju le bu: join the club

* * *

The man had his own private little ship yard right on his own private little planet. And his own cadre of pretty little followers all line up around him. Doctors and a couple of Companions, and a buncha kids River and Camille's age all lookin' at them with big, eager eyes as the crew of Serenity descended the gangplank.

And in front of them all was the man himself. Garrison Pike.

Mal hated him on sight.

"Captain Reynolds," Pike said once they'd reached him. He held out his hand. "It's good to finally meet you."

"And yourself," Mal replied stiffly. He gripped Garrison hand hard.

"Thank you for taking care of my bian se long." He extracted his hand from Mal's grasp and clasped them both behind his back. "Bringing her back home and intact means a lot."

"Yeah, well, you're welcome." He cleared his throat and added, "If you want to throw a little help our way in gratitude, that wouldn't go unappreciated. Got this necklace on my hands and I could use some help finding some place to sell it."

He'd hoped that, maybe, Garrison's cool demeanor would crack under his request, but the man was like a mirror. All cool and shiny calm like some Core-bred city boy who ain't never done an honest--or dishonest--days work in his life.

"Of course, Captain. I'll get you a list of contacts as soon as possible." And then, the man just stepped around him like he didn't exist. "Camille." His voice was suddenly soft, caring. Velvet.

Mal turned. Camille's eyes were full of tears, her body shaking. Her face was white and pale as she stepped into Garrison's arms and buried her face against his chest.

"Welcome home, xin ai. Welcome home."

End Book 1