based on the world of Firefly by J. Whedon

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The sun set on the third night as Sargent Reynolds looked at his watch. Three nights now since they had heard anything from the mysterious Cat and though they had stayed busy driving more Intel to the Independent command, he couldn't help but worrying about her.

Strangely, he wasn't sure why, though his second would be quick to point out, with her around, everyone slept better. He would lie and admit that was the reason. It was easier than dealing with the burn in his chest when his thoughts slipped to those green eyes.

"Sarge, we're passing out rations." Tracey had been silent from the last few days, each of the unit knowing Cat had become on of his closest friends. Truthfully, Cat didn't talk, but listen to the young man as he talked about his family and his hopes at getting rich quick after the war. Maybe sell his story...

"I'll eat later, Son. You go and make sure everyone gets enough." He didn't turn, but took another drink from the canteen at his side, shouldering the rifle as his blue eyes filled with the rising moon.

"Yes, Sir," Tracey whispered, but Mal knew he wanted to say more, to tell his Sargent that the men were complaining about having to eat the bland military food when three days ago they had fresh rabbit. Still, he let it go and moved away, back toward the fire.

"You are a foolish man, Sargent Reynolds." It was a harsh whisper, sliding from the shadows like a deadly serpent.

"Yes, I am, but at least I chose my path." He squinted to see the source of the voice, but remained still. His hand reached for the pistol at his side.

"I would never have gotten this close if you hadn't drove off your guard dog." Still remaining in the dark, the stranger laughed.

"Didn't drive her off. She just needed time to think is all." Mal lied, but then maybe this man didn't know that. "And I don't need her to kill you."

"Probably not, but I have men in the hills surrounding you