“Reynolds!” The man outside was getting louder. “You took that cargo out from under us on Bernadette, and Sullivan owes me. You’re gonna give it back and the money he paid you. I think that’s fair.”

“Is this to do with you?” Corcoran asked.

Mal tried to look reasonable although his heart was sinking. “Let’s just say I was involved, though it ain't exactly my problem.” But it’s sure as hell gonna be Sully’s when I catch up with him , he thought.

“Oh, but it is.” The man lifted his gun again. “And it could just be a permanent problem if me or my men get hurt in the crossfire.”

“And that should worry me … how?” Mal almost laughed. “You were just about to shoot me. You think I'm gonna be concerned about your health?”

“Mal …” Jayne ground out, and even Zoe winced internally. Mal’s overconfidence seemed to be back.

“Talk to them,” Corcoran ordered.

“What?” Mal’s eyebrows went up.

“Talk to them.”

“And tell them what, exactly?”

“I don’t care. Make a deal if you have to.”

“You gonna keep it?”

Corcoran gave him a withering look. “Sure I am.”

Mal walked towards the door, stopped by Baxter while he was still six feet away.

“Close enough,” the man said, his gun pointing squarely at Mal’s chest.

“I wasn't intending to make a run for it.”

He poked Mal hard with the barrel of his rifle, enough to bruise. “It’s still close enough.”

-

“Lie still,” Simon ordered.

“I have to be doing something.” Freya was struggling to sit up on the medbed.

“You’ve been shot. That makes me in charge.”

She paused and glared at him. “You think?”

“It does down here.” He pressed on the wound in her shoulder and she gasped. “See?”

“Sadist.”

“That’s right. Insult the man who’s trying to save your life.”

“I'm not dying.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

She took a calming breath. “Simon, we’ve got bad guys outside, and Mal’s … I can’t afford to lie here.”

“Fine.” He’d had enough. “So go ahead,” he said, stepping back.

“What?”

“Bleed to death. See if