title: Broken Silence

author: nancy

fandom: Firefly

series: Alternate Life

status: WIP (yes, there will be more)

pairing: Simon/Usher

rating: NC17

email: the_tenth_muse1@yahoo.com

website: http://www.geocities.com/the_tenth_muse1/

archive: sure! just let me know!

summary: Time is up and the reign of terror comes to an end.

Translations: go se = dog shit, mei mei = little sister.

WARNINGS: violence. lots and graphic violence. SERIOUS and pretty graphic non-con issues from the get go. bad language is kind of a given, right? ;o) and the blatant and merciless death of OC. bwahahah...

disclaimer: not mine, never will be, not making any money from this.

Alternate Life: Broken Silence
by Nancy

The hands over his body were familiar, familiar and heavy as they slid up and down his flanks. The fingers pinched a little, squeezed here and there, cruel, but evoking pleasure at the same time.
Pleasure that he had learned to feel over the years, if only in self-defense, if only so his mind didn't collapse under the constant pain. Though sometimes, he got confused and the pain became the pleasure, even though he knew that must be wrong. In some other life it would be wrong, but in this one he welcomed it, because it said that he was still alive.

A single finger pushed inside him without ceremony and without lube, but it didn't much matter. The other hand tugged insistently on his cock, gripping and squeezing until he was panting from the stimulation. His body ached in too many different ways to remember which was pain and which pleasure. All he really knew was that he was desperate to come, desperate for release, and had been for what seems like hours.

"That's my whore, spread your legs again."

The whispered command burns through him with humiliating force, as it always did. It was part of the game, after all, and he couldn't help the same feelings now as the first time he heard them five
years ago. But his legs spread of their own accord, his body very much out of control and demanding its due.

He was split apart with the force of the cock shoved into him and he groaned in agony. It burned even more than the words, no matter how many times he'd taken it like this. It didn't matter how much his own body needed release, how rock hard his own cock was, the pain as Usher drove into him never lessened.

But then, if it ever did, Simon would know that he was no longer who he was struggling to remain. He truly would be a whore for Usher to command at will, because he'd have given in, given up. The thrusting was steady and he grunted with each impact, the soft bedding beneath him absorbing only some of the force. Usher seemed to be made of iron, his flesh as unyielding as metal as it pounded into him, again and again.

The pain blossomed into even greater agony, and he knew that it was time. In order to not wind up dead because of some internal rupture, he had to stop the fucking. There was only one way to stop it and that was to make Usher come, to have the seed inside him, mixing with his blood. And there was only one way to make the man come, no matter how tight his balls were, no matter how much even Usher needed to come.

"God, please, no more, Sir, please, stop, please, Sir!"

Over and over the words spilled out and the tears became real because whatever had disturbed Usher, he wasn't through taking it out on Simon. It was the fourth time in only two hours that Usher fucked Simon raw and he suspected that the warm trickle down his legs wasn't the semen that he was hoping for.

Finally, Usher came, humping against him with more violence than Simon had been subjected to in a very long time. The man stilled against him, silent in his release, ejaculating hot and wet inside
Simon, one hand gripping his hip with bruising force, the other pressing Simon's face into the pillow, muffling his words and making it very difficult to breathe. Panic surged through him, but Simon didn't struggle, keeping enough sense to conserve his oxygen for as long as possible. Because even if he struggled and freed himself, which was highly doubtful in his current, weakened state, Usher would beat him bloody for doing so.

Then the pressure and weight were gone as Usher pulled roughly from Simon's body, without consideration. Simon lay there, only turning his face to the side so he could breathe again. He couldn't move, but not because it was forbidden until told to do so. He couldn't move because something was wrong inside. Pain that he hadn't noticed during the fucking seared through his abdomen and he moaned with it, unable to stifle the sound.

"You can move, Simon."

Only, he very definitely couldn't and the room went black in a very odd way.

*

Jayne hovered outside the room with as near an anxious air as he'd ever shown. He'd answered Usher's furious shout to find Simon covered in blood on the bed and Usher himself just wrapping himself into a robe. He'd heard a few screams during the endless two hours, and saw the reason revealed in the slash marks across Simon's pale back. It had been the laser-ribbon again and Jayne knew that if they were going to save the doctor at all, the time had to be soon. Usher was getting less and less careful with his treatment of Simon, even for Usher.

"Jayne."

Facing the preacher, Jayne demanded, "How is he?"

"It wasn't Usher for a change," Book answered, face inscrutable.

Feeling the blood drain from his face, Jayne whispered, "He didn't...Simon didn't try to..."

Book hastened to assure him, "No, no! It wasn't a suicide attempt." Jayne breathed easier for the few seconds before the connection was made. "What was it this time?"

"A nasty little bug that was probably in his food," Book stated. "Once it reached his intestines, it was activated by the digestive enzymes and started tearing him apart. Usher didn't help by...well, it didn't help any."

"Holy God. Is he gonna be okay?"

"I don't know."

The honest answer scared Jayne more than he wanted to admit. "What's he need?"

"Time to heal. I've treated the injuries as best I can, but I'm no surgeon. River knew more about what to do than I did. Thank God she was bored enough to read medical texts last year, or Simon would be dead," Book admitted heavily.

Time to heal. That wasn't gorram likely. Usher would want Simon up on his feet as quick as possible, and Simon would pass off how serious the injuries were for fear that Usher would go after River or Book. "Fuck. Oh, sorry preacher."

Grinning faintly, Book agreed, "That about covers the situation. I'm going to, ah, keep Simon sedated pretty heavily. It will help him recover faster."

"How long before the drugs become addictive?"

"Three days, maybe four at the dosage I'll need to use."

Jayne nodded, just wanting his guess confirmed. "I'll tell Usher."

"Good luck."

There was no irony in the black man's tone. They both knew it was fifty-fifty that Usher would shoot the messenger.

*

"As it happens, that suits just right for timing," Usher said with a shrug, when Jayne announced the situation a few minutes later. "I have company coming in a few days and having Simon around would present more questions than I'm prepared to answer. When he wakes up, tell Simon that he's confined to quarters for the next ten days."

Jayne nodded and turned to go.

"Jayne?"

Facing Usher, Jayne asked, "Yes, Sir?"

"How did your little errand go?" Usher questioned.

With a shrug, Jayne replied, "It went. Problem's not quite taken care of, but I'm working on it. Just gotta, you know, uh, think of something."

Usher eyed him for a long moment, then nodded and waved a hand in dismissal.

When the door slid shut behind him, Jayne breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes it was just real damn convenient to be thought of as an idiot. It meant that people didn't think you had brains enough to plot against them.

Which did, he had to admit, make for much easier plotting.

*

Simon woke slowly, but even when he knew that he was completely awake, there was a lethargy that could only indicate drugs in his system. They had to be pretty heavily administered, too, because he couldn't feel any pain, anywhere on or in his body.

"Simon?"

As always, River seemed to know the moment he woke and her voice echoed very near his head. Opening his eyes, Simon found her kneeling on the floor by his bed. "Mei-mei, what happened?"

"You were torn apart, inside out," she answered seriously, her hand hovering in the air over his abdomen.

"Really?" Simon mused. Though the fucking had been hard and painful, it hadn't seemed damaging enough to require a drugged sleep. More like stitches and bed-rest for a day or so."

"Not go se's fault this time."

Simon tried not to grin as he tiredly scolded, "Language, River."

"It's a fairly apt description, actually," Book stated, just out of sight.

Glancing towards the older man's voice, Simon waited until Book was in his room, then asked, "What happened?"

"Another assassination attempt," Book answered.

Simon sighed. "I wish people would stop assuming that I mean something to Usher."

"It's because you've out-lasted the, ah, those who were before you," Book commented.

"That's only because I know how to play the game, not due to any form of attachment on Usher's part," Simon said wryly. "How long have I been out?"

"Four days."

"Four days!?"

River held him down and he was weak enough that he couldn't even break free of her grasp. Then Book joined her at the task, saying, "Relax, Simon, you've been confined to quarters anyhow."

That didn't do anything but exacerbate the panic swelling inside. "Why? What's wrong? What did I do?"

Book moved River quickly, but gently, out of the way and sat on the bed, settling his broad hand over Simon's forehead, a physical signal for him to calm down and take a breath, that nothing was
wrong. Book had reinforced it with a hypnotic command many times over the last few years and the gesture now never failed to bring Simon down from whatever ledge he was on.

Breathing slow and deep, Simon released the panic, though he was unable to completely rid himself of a residual anxiety. Finally, he nodded and admitted, "Better."

Book eyed him a moment longer, then removed his hand and said, "You've done nothing wrong, Simon. As a matter of fact, Jayne is under the distinct impression that Usher has no wish to share you with his newest business partner."

The anxiety faded a bit at the pronouncement. "Who is it?"

"Not sure. Someone in the Companion's Guild, though. I saw the ship's markings."

"Companion's Guild? How strange."

"In any case, you need to rest and recover," Book ordered with a smile. "Say good night, River."

"Night, Simon," River said, kissing her brother's forehead.

He smiled and replied, "Good night, River."

After they'd gone, though, Simon's thoughts wouldn't slow down enough to let him sleep. He wondered, wistfully, how Mal was doing. Then defiantly repeated the given nick-name several times in his mind. He wasn't stupid enough to even whisper them aloud so that the monitoring system would pick them up, but his mind was still his own to control.

No matter what Usher liked to think.

*

Timing really was everything, as Mal had learned over the course of his not-so-lucky lifetime.

Take the war for instance. If he'd been an hour later getting to that hidden recruitment center, they'd have left and he'd never have been in the war at all. Consequently, he'd never have met Zoe, bought Serenity, or hooked up with Kaylee and Wash. Of which circumstance, Zoe and Wash would never have met, because he wouldn't have been around to save Zoe's life on more than one occasion. Also meaning that Kaylee would've been stuck on that back-asswards colony
where she'd been born, or thumbing across different, shady crews as little more than an indentured servant.

Which in turn, brought his mind around to where it usually was in the first place these days: to Simon. If Mal wasn't currently Captain of the Serenity, Simon would be forever trapped with Usher, or at least until the man killed him off; neither thought something that bore thinking.

"How's that coming along now, Wash?" Mal asked, trying not to sound as tense as he felt.

"Unless you'd like to drive, I suggest you stop making comments from the peanut gallery, Mal."

"Right. Okay. I am most definitely shutting up now."

Only, that left him alone with his thoughts of just how close and under the radar Serenity was to those Alliance boats. Something else that didn't really bear thinking on. "But, ah, I was wondering..."

"Mal!"

"Captain!"

Mal raised his hands in surrender and even stepped back a pace as Zoe glared at him. They were all tense, he knew that, so he was probably lucky that she'd only just glared at him.

See, the trick was for Wash to get close enough for Serenity to be ID'd as a Firefly, but not close enough to be identified as Serenity, even with all the exterior markings taken down. Then they'd appear outside the station closest to Usher's and lead the Fed's right to the bastard's doorstep. Well, not right to it, because they needed enough time to get Simon and the rest off the
station. And Mal was, of course, still aiming for some good, personal quality time alone with Usher.

He still had designs on the man's balls after all.

"Got ya, ya bastard!" Wash hissed in unholy glee. "That concludes the slow and boring part of out tour for today. If you would please hold onto something nailed down, honey, I'd really appreciate it."

Mal opened his mouth to protest the `honey,' but closed it just as quick, before Zoe could notice, and grabbed hold of a rail. A moment later, he was glad that he had, because Serenity went sharply in an unnatural direction, even for a spaceship.

Gritting his teeth, Mal wondered if maybe he should just close his eyes so he couldn't see what Wash was doing to his ship. Like coming a hair's breadth from flying directly into the Alliance cruiser that was five times their size. Or dropping 180 degrees in two seconds flat to nearly incinerate them in the planet's atmosphere.

Mal closed his eyes.

*

"Are you all right, Cap'n?" Kaylee asked with concern as she entered the common room a few hours later. "I've never rightly seen you that shade of, ah, that shade before."

"Fine," Mal managed, hands firmly on his stomach to make sure it didn't go anywhere. Closing his eyes, he thought, *Funny how this never happens when I fly.*

"Are you sure? I could make you some tea."

Even the thought of tea was enough to make him swallow heavily. "No. Thanks. Just, how much did you say inertia dampeners would cost?"

"Oh, is that the problem? I was having fun, m'self. Thought maybe we could go again when we're not, you know, actually being chased."

Mal cracked an eye open and glared with full force. He was gratified to see her pale a bit and shift backwards, even if he was fully incapable of following up on any threats just then.

"Ah, I'll be sure and draw up a cost thingy for you, Cap'n," Kaylee promised before ducking out of the room.

Closing his eyes again, Mal noted, somewhat meanly and with great satisfaction, that she hadn't gotten whatever it was that she'd come for.

"Mal."

Groaning to himself, Mal asked, "What? I'm trying to become one with my stomach again."

There was a soft snicker and Zoe replied, "And as much as I'm enjoying the sight of it, and I am, believe me, Wash says we'll be coming up into unfriendly space in near about ten minutes."

Sighing, he muttered, "No rest for the motion-sick."

*

Of course, normally unfriendly space for them, sometimes turned out to be really friendly space for someone else, like Josh for instance. And Josh was waiting with his own boat exactly where he'd promised Mal he'd be.

The grinning black man observed, "You're looking a little green around the gills, Mal. Something wrong?"

Glaring briefly at his First, who was unfortunately immune to all of his glares, Mal replied, "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Everything in place?"

Josh nodded briskly. "It is. Took some fancy talking, but once they realized they it really was possible, all the suggestions just kinda took a life of their own."

"So it's no longer your idea, right?" Mal questioned.

Josh grinned, a bit sardonic, as he replied, "The best idea in years and neither of us gets the credit."

"That's exactly how I like it," Mal stated definitively. "Once people start thinking your smart enough to outwit them, things get hairy."

"True. And on that happy bit of wisdom, I'll catch you on the flip side my friend."

The vid screen went dark and Mal looked at Zoe and Wash. "Everyone ready?"

Part 2

For the fifth time in an hour, Jayne checked his wrist chronometer. Time was getting close. He wasn't nervous, just impatient for things to get under way. Simon was mostly recovered from the near-successful assassination, so at least he wouldn't have to be carried out anywhere.

River had almost given him a heart attack the day before when she'd looked him dead in the eye and said, "I'll make sure they're both ready to go."

Thank God she'd followed the comment up with some bizarre tantrum, covering it up as so much mental talk. How she knew, Jayne hadn't a clue, but at least there was someone else around who would be able to get the Preacher and Simon off this tub.

"Chief Cobb?"

Turning at the soft, cultured tones of the Companion Inara, Jayne nodded respectfully. "Ms. Inara. What can I do for you?"

Was that a smudge under her eye? Jayne looked more closely, without seeming to look at all, and found that the Companion wasn't nearly as untouched as she looked. The hair and clothing were as smooth as ever, but her eyes were a little wild. Well, wild for a Companion anyhow. Then again, serving someone like Niska was akin to Simon's position for Usher. The old bastard was evil incarnate and probably what Usher would be if the fucker lived another thirty years.

Which the fucker wasn't going to; Mal and Jayne were personally going to make sure of that.

"I seem to be in need of a physician," Inara replied quietly. "I was told there was one available?"

Concerned, but trying not to show it, Jayne answered gruffly, "We got one. This way."

He carefully took her elbow and set his other hand at the small of her back, guiding her towards the infirmary. "Simon?"

Over the comm, Simon's startled voice answered, "Yes, Jayne?"

"You've got a patient needs tending. Get, ah, women's stuff ready," he warned.

There was a pause, then Simon replied, "Of course. I'll be there directly."

*

Mal and Zoe strode through the base, shoulder to shoulder, and everyone who saw them got out of the way as fast as possible. Everything was going almost too smooth for Mal's comfort, but he
wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

They'd mooned the Fed base a parsec away and Wash had confirmed that they'd been tagged and ships were assembling. It would be about a half-hour after they reached Usher's base that the Feds would arrive.

Pushing open the door to Usher's study, Mal breathed a faint sigh of release at finding Simon nowhere there. Usher and Niska, who Mal only knew by reputation and sight, were at the desk talking.

Usher's head jerked up at their entrance and he demanded, "What are you doing here, Reynolds?"

"Had a bit of trouble with the last run," Mal answered easily.

Zoe took up position by the door, turning her back deliberately.

Mal looked over at the older man and met the near-black eyes. "You might want to take your leave, Mr. Niska, this is private."

Niska looked from one man to the other and stood, replying, "Yes. I think it very good for me to leave now. Good luck to you, Usher."

When the man was gone, Mal met Zoe's eyes and she nodded. "Take as much time as you need, Captain. No one's getting through."

Then she closed the door.

Usher was on his feet now, wary but uncowed. "I asked what you were doing, Reynolds."

Ignoring the man, Mal instead questioned, "Jayne. Everything set?"

"Got `em."

Usher snarled wordlessly at the betrayal.

A shocked Simon asked, "Mal?"

Relieved more than he'd ever admit to hearing the other man's voice, Mal answered, "It's me, Simon. Just hang in there and do what Jayne says. We're getting you all out. I've just got a little something to take care of first."

Sneering, Usher demanded, "So you want the whore? That's what this is all about?"

Mal didn't even get angry at the insult. There was too much this man had done to lose control in any fashion. The all-too-familiar sensation of icy stole over his heart, blocking out mercy, barring
anything that remotely resembled pity. "No, not really. This is a service that should have been done years ago."

"Like you're a virgin," Usher scoffed.

With a shake of the head, Mal agreed, "Not an innocent myself. On the other hand, I never took what was innocent and tried to destroy it. I never killed just because I could. I never tortured for fun. I never raped for pleasure. I never beat someone into submission to see if it could be done."

"So this is justice, is that it?"

"It is."

"Nice to know that you can judge."

"It is, isn't it?"

Without another word, Mal lashed out with his boot.

*

Inara was extremely surprised by Simon, both his appearance and his manner, but more than pleasantly so. The young man was cultured and refined, that much was obvious, and gentle to boot. The examination and repair were made with soft spoken explanations and assurances. When he was finished, Simon turned aside and said, "You can get dressed now, I'll wait in the outer room and we can talk."

The door closed and Inara just lay on the exam bed for a moment, taking in this strange development.

She was physically healed, there was no doubt about that. But there had been so much respect and care in the doctor's hands and voice that something inside had begun to be healed as well. It had been so long that anyone had touched her with anything but disdain or worse that it was almost a foreign concept. She'd nearly forgotten that Companion's weren't whores. That being a Companion was a respected position and most were highly sought after by those who could afford
their services.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Inara sat up and began to dress. It didn't take long, and she was out of the secluded examination room within a few minutes, joining Simon in the other room.

He was hunched in on himself and shaking when she arrived, which gave her pause. Uncertain, she called softly, "Simon? Are you all right?"

Simon flinched at her voice but pulled himself together almost right away. It was a moment before he faced her, but when he did, there was no expression on his face. "You have to leave him, Inara. You can leave him with the Guild's help."

Shocked by the statement, so bold and made where anyone could hear, Inara didn't answer.

"He's going to kill you. He's already..." Simon's mouth clamped shut and he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to blurt this out, especially if you don't know, but...have you been told that you won't be able to bear children?"

There was a roar in her ears and things faded away for what seemed an eternity. When it receded, Inara found herself held gently in Simon's arms, cushioned by his body on the floor. There was someone else as well and she flinched until the soft features of a girl became clear.

Startlingly clear eyes looked down at her from an innocent, but somehow worldly, face. A light hand stroked her face and the girl crooned, "Poor little sister. Stay with us. We'll care for you, make the monster die and free you."

The comfort, strangely worded though it was, seeped into Inara and soothed her into sleep that was, she suspected, artificially induced.

*

"I told you never to come out River!" Simon snapped, accepting Book's help in getting Inara onto the nearest bed. He glared at the preacher, truly angry at the other man for the first time in a long,
long time. "What were you thinking!?"

"I brought `em," Jayne announced from the door.

Simon's head swivelled towards the big man, his jaw dropping. "You...what!?"

Jayne crossed the space between them and took Simon's face firmly between his hands, staring earnestly into his eyes. "You have to do what I say, when I say it. It's almost over Simon."

Unable to fathom what the hell Jayne was talking about, Simon was about to demand an explanation when Mal's voice came over the comm.

"Jayne. Everything set?"

"Got `em," Jayne confirmed.

Stomach dropping in shock, Simon stared back at Jayne, hope beginning to creep out of its cage. "Mal?"

Was it relief he heard in the other man's voice when the Captain replied, "It's me, Simon. Just hang in there and do what Jayne says. We're getting you all out. I've just got a little something to take care of first."

It was only due to the many years of learning the hard way how to control his body that Simon didn't faint away completely.

*

This time, Mal's blow landed exactly where he'd meant it to: Usher's throat. The other man gagged and fell back against the desk. The desk where Simon had been cut before Mal's very eyes. The icy rage that had fueled him since the start of the attack remained steady. Mal pulled out both daggers sheathed to either thigh and ripped apart Usher's shirt.

Holding one to his captive's throat, Mal threatened calmly, "If you move, I'll end it right here and now. If you don't, who knows? Maybe later you can overpower me and kill me."

Their eyes met and locked, the hate exchanged easily and fully between them.

With the smaller blade, Mal carved into Usher's breast, slowly and carefully. The blood instantly welled up and smeared his view, but Mal didn't need to see what he was doing. In the same high-caste script Usher had used, he sliced `Evil' into the flesh. Beside it, he carved `Unnamed.' Usher was still and silent throughout. When Mal began on the second sigil, a grunt escaped and Mal cut into the throat a little in warning. "I said, don't move. Don't want to mess up such fine work now, do we?"

This time, the knife moved into the same spot on the abdomen that Usher had marked Simon. It read `Damned,' and `Cursed' went right beside it, the sigils blending together.

Pulling the cutting knife free of the last curve, Mal wiped it on Usher's shirt and sheathed it. Then he wiped the shirt across the bleeding flesh, provoking a hiss from the other man. Utterly
serious, Mal whispered, "This is my personal justice you bear into the netherworld. You have no name. I have taken it from you. Your ancestors won't know you and you'll wander eternity without their comforting embrace for the evil you have unleashed on innocence in this universe."

Though Usher didn't move or change expression, there was suddenly real fear in his eyes.

"Sir. Wash says we've got ten minutes."

"Understood. Tell Jayne to get everyone to Serenity," Mal ordered over the comm. Backing up a little, Mal released Usher and tossed him the knife. "You've got a chance now. Take it, if you want a chance to redeem yourself. Only by killing me will you take back your name and you know it."

With another wordless roar, Usher charged.

Feeling strangely calm, Mal blocked every blow almost effortlessly. The knife cut him a few times, but he couldn't feel the pain. He grunted with the impact of each one, sweated and cursed as he fought back, just as viciously. Then, finally, he got the telling blow by slamming his knee into Usher's groin with as much force as he could muster.

Unable to breathe, Usher dropped like a stone, curled around himself. Then he started throwing up from the pain.

Mal stared down at him for a few moments then picked up the knife and wiped it extensively clean with his own shirt. "You defiled purity. You sewed evil and discord everywhere you went. You deliberately enslaved. The Feds know about you and have been looking for you. You'll be in a hole not even big enough to stand for the rest of your life. There's one last way for you to redeem yourself."

"Fuck you," Usher gasped, uncurling a little as he struggled into a sitting position.

A smirk crossed Mal's face. "I don't think so."

"I'll find you, Reynolds. I will find you and your crew. You think what I did to Simon was bad? That's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you and yours," Usher snarled, hate etched into every line and curve of his body.

Pursing his lips, Mal nodded and answered, "Good to know. I wasn't sure."

Mal forced Usher down by first stepping and then kneeling on his chest. Efficiently, Mal pinned the man's arms to his side by straddling him backwards. Using the dagger, he sliced off the
trousers, the silky material cutting easily.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Usher demanded, panting in a wasted effort to get free.

Savage satisfaction coated Mal's voice as he answered, "Giving Simon, and who knows how many others, the only kind of justice he can expect, given my time limits. I was going to rape you until you bled, give you a feel for what it's like. I was going to shove my cock up your ass, and then rape you with whatever else was convenient. I was going to give Jayne a couple of turns, too, he's a big, strapping fella, ain't he? And he wanted to, believe me. Probably has more right, come to think on it."

"Reynolds!"

The panicked scream was a balm to the insistent fury inside, but didn't stop his hand as it placed the blade on the exposed sacs beneath the very limp dick. Mal gripped the cock in his hands and
squeezed. Usher shouted in pain, the sound strangled almost in his throat. Then, quick as a blink, Mal cut off the tripod, the blade slicing through flesh with ease.

He'd sharpened it a lot, after all.

Usher arched up, his body seizing with agony at the action, then it went completely lax beneath him.

Getting to his feet, Mal looked dispassionately at the bleeding man on the floor. It would probably be only minutes until he bled to death at the rate the red-black liquid was coating the polished floor.

"It's too quick for you," Mal whispered, again wiping the blade on Usher's shirt. There weren't a lot of clean spots left, but he managed it. While he was down there, he touched his fingers to the
throat and found that Usher was dead. He got back to his feet and spat on the corpse, cursing, "Burn in hell."

Then he turned and left.

*

Wash took off the second Zoe gave the all clear. The other kingpins had arrived a few short minutes ago and he'd been itching to go every since. Monitoring their comms had revealed that there was looting aplenty going on; some of it organized, some of it not so much. All of it, however, involved gun-play. And anything that involved gunplay and Zoe in the same sentence made him distinctly nervous.

As he guided Serenity away from the frenzied feeding of sharks on the corpse of what used to be an empire, he noted that the Feds were finally arriving. There were more than expected, so he immediately glided into the rings of the nearest planet and made like an ice lump by shutting down most of the power.

"Wash! What's going on?"

"Just trying to avoid capture, Captain. We're good," Wash answered.

"Okay. Thanks."

*

In the dimmed lighting, Mal surveyed the strangely full cargo-hold and wondered how on earth he'd managed to pull it off. Jayne was trying to find somewhere to put an unconscious woman while Simon fussed over them both. Kaylee and Book were trying to get River to stop clinging to a railing while Zoe bore probably a similar expression on her face to his, that clearly said, `What the fuck do we do now?'

"Simon!" Mal said, coming up behind him. Simon jumped a little and Mal cursed himself for using such a hard tone. Putting a slow hand on the other man's shoulder, Mal continued, "I'll show you where the infirmary is. You can treat her there."

Smiling hesitantly, Simon nodded and put his hand briefly on Mal's. "Thank you, Captain."

Mal wanted to correct the title, but didn't, leaving it for later. "All right then. This way."

Simon moved to Jayne and said something soft into his ear that made the bigger man laugh. Mal clamped down on the jealousy that surged up and forced himself to meet Simon's eyes with a smile.

*

The darkness of the common room was soothing to Mal many hours later. They'd gotten everyone settled into their own rooms, River and Simon's attached of course, and now things were quiet again.

"Captain?"

Mal glanced over at Simon's hesitant question. "Yes?"

Walking a little further into the room, Simon leaned against an opposite counter as he obviously tried to think about what to say. Pretty sure he knew what was going on, Mal said, "He's dead, Simon. You don't have to worry about him ever again."

Swallowing heavily, Simon opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, he questioned, "How?"

Mal got to his feet and crossed the distance between them. Taking Simon's hand, he answered quietly, "I killed him. With my own hands, Simon. You don't have to worry about him coming after you and River. You're safe."

"You don't know that. There's more about me, about River..."

Putting a hand over Simon's mouth, Mal said, "I know, Simon. I know about the Alliance, even if I don't know the details. You and River are *safe* here, I swear on my own soul. No one is ever going to hurt you again if there's breath in my body."

When the shaking started, Mal wasn't surprised. He pulled Simon close and moved them swiftly to the couch. Once there, he wrapped the slender man in his arms and let the tears come without any attempt to stifle them. Simon clutched his shirt, sobbing silently in such a heart-rending fashion that tears stung at Mal's eyes and the back of his throat closed. "You can cry for real, Simon, no one's going to stop you, make as much noise as you want."

It wasn't much, but the silence was eventually broken by shuddering gasps at his encouragement. Mal just held tighter and rocked Simon gently, murmuring wordless noises meant to soothe.

*

Drawn by an odd noise on her evening rounds, Zoe poked her head around the corner into the common room. The sight of Simon shaking near-silently in Mal's arms cracked through the defenses she'd pulled up at the beginning of the day. What shattered them, though, were the tears glinting in the faint light on Mal's face as he held and comforted the doctor.

Biting her lip hard to keep silent, Zoe went in search of Wash.

END