Chapter 12

Mal winced as Inara unwrapped the bandage on his side, cleaned around the stitches, and re-wrapped it. It was cold in the galley and he wanted to wear a shirt, but he didn’t have much skin above the belt that wasn’t tender and broken. As Inara cleaned the wounds and smoothed fresh salve over his skin, Mal looked bitterly at his broken hand and wondered if the thing would ever heal properly again. Over the past ten years, that bone made a habit of breaking, and he told Sky it was her fault, because she was the one that broke it first. Mal hissed and flinched as Inara’s hand rubbed over his side.

“Sorry.”

“Just tickles,” he said, because it did tickle a little, the way her fingernails danced feather-light over his skin. They could hardly look at each other.

Things weren’t right – not even close. But at least things hadn’t gotten worse in the last three hours. It took them awhile to suss out that River’s possessor had probably been on that ship that Jayne shot down, and that’s why things had settled. There was no reason for Mal to believe things were safe, even if they looked it at the moment.

The kids were down stairs – Zoë and Cole not wanting to leave Michael, Genny not wanting to leave Cole. Inara had been down there for awhile, but she kept coming up every hour to tend to Mal’s cuts so they didn’t get infected. It wasn’t like someone else couldn’t have helped him. It’s that he wouldn’t ask, and she wanted to do it herself.

Kaylee had finally given up fussing over Jamie, mostly because she was exhausted and injured her own self. She sprawled over the small couch in the alcove behind the dining area, one arm over her eyes, and had cried herself to sleep a half hour ago. Jamie sat at the table in the galley, hands in his lap, eyes downcast, plate of long-cold food in front of him. Every now and then, he’d poke at the noodles, separate one with his fingers, and eat it. He went back and forth between hugging his knees to his chest and resting his elbows on the table. Jamie was too scared