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Author's Note: The following was written for improv #9: Blue sly grand tongue, and takes place during "The Message." Huge thanks to Dangermom, Amy, Nita, and everybody who helped along the way!

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by Tara LJC O'Shea

Kaylee was afraid.

She hadn't been—not at first. She'd heard the captain's warning too late; Tracey had grabbed her, brandishing a gun as she'd come up out of her room to see what was going on. But she hadn't been truly afraid; it had all happened so fast, she hadn't had time to be afraid. Just shocked and a little angry, both at Tracey, and herself for letting herself get snatched.

As he'd dragged her down to the shuttles, she'd looked for the fella she'd met that morning. The Tracey who had just been joking and laughing with her in her room, all smiles and charm. He had to be there someplace, underneath all that panic and pain. She thought maybe she could talk him out of this. That once he stopped to think a minute, everything would sort itself out.

But things had only gone from bad to worse. And when the captain started talking about a trail of bodies, the fear had started gnawing at her belly when she realised that Tracey was so scared of whoever was dropping charges on them that he might do anything to get away.

Anything at all.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she fought to keep her footing on the catwalk, Tracey's arm around her neck. The gun in his hand was trained on her captain, as the ship shook in the aftershocks of another blast. Jayne caught her eye,