The sick sound of bone popping forced Inara's eyes to open.

Mal's sound of pain turned into a shout of anger before three gunshots echoed in the small room. Inara tried to move, to roll over to see who had fired the weapon, to get up to help Mal, to do anything , but her limbs were sluggish and unwilling to respond. A body dropped into her line of vision, blood bubbling out of what was left of a man's face. She pushed away with a cry, her side screaming in outraged agony. Mal was there suddenly, helping her to roll onto her back, his words a litany of promises she wasn't sure he knew he was making. She glanced back at the dying mess behind Mal and gagged.

"No, no, no," he instructed, using his left hand to gently nudge her chin. "Don't look at that, you just focus on my eyes, you understand me?"

She nodded, swallowing thickly. His right arm hung at an odd angle and there was evidence of the fight blossoming across his face. He did everything one-handed as he worked to staunch the bleeding from her own wound.

"Hold here," he instructed, his hand pushing her own hand against a warm makeshift bandage. She wondered vaguely which part of her skirt was now missing a large patch of fabric as Mal pushed away from the floor to stagger to the shuttle's consul.

"River, you there?"

She heard the slight edge of panic in his voice. Inara stared at the dead eyes on the floor next to her. The air was thick with a smell she prayed she would never remember. She closed her eyes and turned her face away. The bandage in her hand was getting warmer and sticky.

"Mal?" she called, her voice shaky.

"River, answer me!"

The fabric was slipping from her sticky fingers. Her side felt warm on the wrong side of her skin.

"Mal?"

"RIVER!"

***

Dear Parental Authority Figures,

By now, you must have heard that your fugitive children (Simon and River, chronologically ordered) have been removed from the Alliance's Most Wanted Censored Individuals List. It is not for lack of trying. T