The Hole in the 'verse

An alternative Firefly story

Rating: PG-13 for now, for violence and mild cursing

Summary: AU fic. Wash is alive and almost well, Serenity's got more cargo, but there's something missing from the "Happily ever after" equation: Simon got left behind. What happens now?

Disclaimer: I don't even own the shirt on my back, let alone these charries. Except the random Alliance officers. I might have joint custody of them.

Author's Notes: It's the beginning of a new chapter featuring everybody's favourite mercenary. Honour roll coming.

The Book of JAYNE

part 1

---

Mal wasn't looking very pleased when he blew through the dining room. Jayne glanced up curiously before returning to his routine weapons maintenance.

"We humped again?" he asked, hocking spit on the blade.

"Ain't in the mood, Jayne; go play with somethin' ain't dangerous," he muttered. Jayne shook his head. He had already jumped to the conclusion that it had to be "that ruttin' girl," because it always was. Jayne couldn't count the number of times he'd tried to get her and her stuck up brother off their ship.

"She ain't nothin' but trouble, Mal. Don't know when yer gonna listen to me, but I ain't gonna keep sayin' it. Yer gonna forget, wake up some mornin', find yer guts floppin' out where they ain't supposed to."

"Jayne! Did you mishear me? I said this ain't the time," Mal snapped.

Jayne shrugged and spat on the blade again to get it extra shiny. Mal left to pursue his terribly noble pursuits, which was just fine by Jayne. It wasn't his fault that River was loopy as a…loopy thing.

Jayne shook it off and carefully replaced the blade in its sheath before carefully disassembling Laverne: a handy little semi-automatic with a lot of heart. Laverne sure wasn't Vera (nothing could compare with her), but she packed a good deal of pain when she wanted to. Jayne had taken her off of a guy who had tried to argue that the payment they'd previously settled on wasn't fair. He'd agreed soon enough.

Jayne smiled at the memory. There wasn't a power in the 'verse that could keep Jayne from his rightful pay.

---

To say that Simon was nervous was only a bit of an understatement. He'd known, confirmed, even, that Serenity had been landed on that particular pad. Now, on his fifth circuit of the yard, he still hadn't located the Firefly or any of its crew. It brought severe feelings of déjà vu, reminding him quite vividly of the last time he had been left behind. This time, the only consolation was that he was among civilized people with modern comforts, but Simon couldn't think of an excuse good enough for their leaving. He could only suspect that it was simple negligence. The doctor wasn't sure how to feel; should he have been angry at being forgotten or sad for not being remembered? Why hadn't River told the crew to wait? Why had she left him?

The questions were overwhelming him, causing the sunny blue sky to darken dangerously and sounds to start garbling and warp his hearing. He took a big breath and tried to focus, allowing his mind to attach itself to whatever question was easiest to answer or could afford the greatest amount of comfort in the shortest amount of time. What he found was immediately classified as belonging to the former group.

They had left him behind because he wasn't a part of the crew and never would be.

Simon banished the thought as quickly as it had come. Sure, it was easy to think such moping and depressing thoughts when there were comforting pillars of friends around. They acted as scapegoats and provided excellent props for feelings of extreme alienation. When the props were taken away, but the hostility remained, it could be reasonably concluded what the real cause of the feelings were. Nobody wanted to confront themselves.

Simon took another deep draught of air and tried to take in his surroundings for a second time. Any sort of distraction would do, but this simple job offered the most immediate comfort. What he found was that the buildings and the skylines and the people were disturbingly familiar, and not just because he'd been strolling through the area for the past several hours. He had been to this place before, a very long time ago. The knowledge hit him all at once with a force that almost sent him reeling into another state of hyperventilation.

He was on Osiris, in Capital City. Home. Ai ya…

Simon had taken great pains to make sure that nobody in the 'verse would find him or his sister only to wind up in the one place where someone was sure to recognize him. There was surely no conceivable way that the day could get much worse. When he finally noticed he was spiraling down towards dark thoughts again, he gave himself a mental slap.

First thing before he started exploring, Simon would have to get some clothes that didn't advertise high-class society. Then, he would find a way to contact Serenity to see if they wouldn't come back for him. Maybe Mal would be feeling charitable. Simon just had to make sure that he didn't get caught between then and now…

---

"Wuh ai nee bing chee nah ai boo hway shr bai, but for God's sake, why won't you work?" Mal hissed through his teeth. "Wash, situation, here!"

"Mal, we're almost there!" Wash relayed back.

"Hurry up!" Things were sparking everywhere and the engine room was beginning to rise to an uncomfortably high temperature.

"Just a sec…got it! I got it! Throw the main lever!"

Mal did as he was told, trying desperately to ignore the burns inflicted by hot metal in his hands. When he was finally able to throw the lever—after his hands were wrapped securely in his shirt sleeves—the whirring and buzzing and sparking began to ease off by degrees.

"Think we're shiny, Captain…" Wash said.

"Think so?" Mal answered, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a bare forearm.

"Know so. Controls are responding again. Anything explode in there?"

"Don't think so. Haven't died."

"Good, good, that's good. I think you're safe to come up."

Mal was too tired to argue or ask about the residual sparking. They had done a very rough patch job where River's hotwiring was concerned, but Serenity was no longer frozen in space. Wash could navigate again. However, the time they had taken to undo River's damage had brought them farther away from Osiris than Mal had counted on. They weren't very far from Persephone; there was no reason they couldn't make the stop. The captain trudged up to the bridge, ignoring Jayne's immediate queries.

While Mal had been running interference between the controls and the engine, Zoë had stolen his seat in the copilot's chair, so he sunk into the one behind it. "Well?"

"We're about two hours out, Captain."

He groaned. "We can't chase 'em now."

"You sure, sir?" Zoë asked.

"No. But we're too close now. Knowin' Kaylee, she'll keep Simon safe."

"Damn right, she will," Jayne muttered. He had followed Mal up from the dining room to find out what all the fuss was about. "We ain't goin' back now. We gotta get paid."

"Jayne, not your call."

"Weren't presumin' it was, Mal."

"Then try not to act like it."

A thin, high beeping filled the cabin. Wash swiveled in his seat to check the instruments and shook his head. "No, no, no, choo fay wuh suh luh!"

"Wash?"

"Alliance!"

Mal's eyes widened. "But we ain't done nothin' yet!"

"Don't need to do anythin' fer Alliance to bite our heads off," Jayne said darkly. He had had a bad feeling about this job ever since Mal had taken it. They hadn't done business with the Alliance since Simon had come on board and as far as Jayne was concerned, it was perhaps the only positive contribution the doctor had made to their crew. Money was money, sure, but it didn't mean that Jayne had to like where it came from.

"Evasive manoeuvers?" Wash asked.

"Damn right we need 'vasive manoeuvers," Jayne snarled.

"No," Mal sighed. "We ain't got nothin' to hide."

"Mal, the cargo! Or did you forget that, already?"

"Jayne, if I need to warn you one more time, it's you that's gonna greet them's come on my boat."

"It was my understandin' we tried that before. We all got captured, interrogated, 'n almost killed."

"Jayne, quiet."

Static crackled from the control panel, causing Wash to flinch visibly. The video was shaky and saturated to the point of unfamiliarity, but the audio was clear enough. "Firefly-class transport, do you copy?"

Wash glanced at Mal in silent question. Mal leaned over the pilot's shoulder to try and decipher the image on the little screen. Whatever doubts Mal had about the other boat being friendly evaporated in much the same way the picture was trying to. Mal recognized the uniform more than anything; the officer was wearing a funny-looking, Alliance-issued cap.

"What seems to be the problem?" Mal asked.

"It's our right to ask you what sort of cargo you are transporting to Persephone via this route."

"Boxes, officer, nothing more."

"What sort of boxes, Captain?"

"Big ones," he answered crisply. He believed they were innocent, but he didn't feel it meant that he had to give them an inch.

"Don't be cute. What sort of cargo is it?"

"Don't rightfully know. Just an honest transport ship lookin' to make a few credits on Alliance orders."

"Alliance orders? What are the numbers on these boxes then, Captain?"

Mal steeled himself, remembering not to break the falsely sweet smile. "Don't actually know off the top of my head, sir."

"Well I suggest you get to finding that information, now, Captain, before we board your ship." The image got fuzzier and Mal assumed the officer was smirking.

"Thanks, officer, I'll get right on that." Mal ended the wave and sighed heavily. He eyed his assembled crew tiredly.

"We're humped."

Chinese:

Wuh ai nee bing chee nah ai boo hway shr bai: I love you and that love shall not fail.

choo fay wuh suh luh!: Over my dead body!

Honour Roll: Lynx Ryder: Well, they're very busy people and can't check who's where are any given moment. Simon's a big boy now. And um…cough still no Survivor. blush Logan13: Thanks!