Chapter 4

The lights in the infirmary were dimmed and the room eerily quiet. Mal leaned against the cabinet, his arms crossed and his posture casual, but his thoughts were anything but relaxed and casual as he stared at the man lying motionless on the medical bed.

Wash hadn’t been asleep long, but Mal was glad he was finally resting, even if it was only a light doze. Unable to handle listening to and watching the pilot’s agony any longer, Simon had finally given him a localized nerve block, despite his medical reservations. Sometimes, you just had to go by your gut and not the book, and Mal was grateful the doc had up and done it. Saved him the trouble of threatening to shoot the young man if he didn’t, which is what would have happened if the doc hadn’t acted first. The medication left Wash pretty much completely numb from the shoulders down, which under normal circumstances would have concerned him, tough to fly that way, but the exhausted, hurting pilot had welcomed it with tears of relief. It would wear off in a few hours, but it had at least allowed them to finish the gruesome task of cleaning their friend up.

Mal felt the anger that had been smoldering flare up again as he looked his friend over. He still wore his filthy flight suit from the waist down, but Simon had left his upper body bare to aid healing and save him more discomfort, so Mal had a perfect view of all Wash’s injuries. The hideous feathers and tar were gone now, removed after hours of painful scrubbing, but Wash’s skin was left red and raw, burned everywhere the hot tar had touched it. Where it had been smeared on first while the tar was at its hottest, across his chest and back, it had pooled slightly and the pilot now had worrisome second and even one third degree burn.

Unfortunately, the burns weren’t the end of it. As the tar was cleared from Wash’s skin, other various injuries had emerged. Mottled black and blue and purple bruises were littered across his face, back, chest, and arms, mute testimony to the