With ongoing thanks to jpdt19 for beta-reading.

The Sleeper Awakens
Part 3: Pieces Of The Puzzle

“Okay, the truth.” Jack took a deep swig of the cheap whiskey Jayne had taken from its hiding place and closed his eyes, “My name is Jack Harkness, and I can not die. The now and the why are unimportant, and would probably wouldn't believe me if I told you. Suffice to say that there was an incident a long, long time ago, and I've been like this ever since. I've been shot, stabbed, strangled, poisoned, electrocuted, gassed, buried alive. In fact, if you can think of a way to kill someone, I've been through it.”

“That's a lot to take purely on faith.” Mal shook his head, unconvinced, “I for one would like the longer version.”

“Okay, how about this.” Jack took a breath, “We were about 17,500-years in the future, defending Earth from an alien race known as the Darlek's, when I was killed. A woman named Rose Tyler absorbed the raw power of the time-vortex and used it to bring me back to life. But she was only a human, and no human could control that sort of power, so she sort of made a mistake, and now I can't die.”

“Excuse me for a second.” Simon raised a hand.

“For you, sweet-cheeks, anything.” Jack gave him a suggestive smile and wink.

“Okay...” The young doctor moved slightly further away, “You just said that you were almost 20,000-years in the future, protecting Earth-that-was from aliens? Do you actually think we're that naive? Or just stupid?”

“He's telling the truth.” River appeared in the doorway, looking slightly more composed than before, but her eyes were bloodshot and she looked like she'd been crying, “Pulled back and forth across time, following the Traveler. The things he's seen...the darkness...The Big, Bad Wolf...”

“Don't...mention that again, please.” Jack winced at the painful memory of his first death, “It's not something I'm very comfortable talking about.”

“You're a time-traveler?” Mal still sounded unconvinced, “Then why the hell didn't you go back and fix all those mistakes we made during the war? Why didn't you save all those people who got killed following you into battle.”

“Against the rules.” River spoke up, “Can't interfere once you've become part of the time-line.”

“Couldn't have put it better myself.” Jack nodded, still visibly affected by what his former comrade had said. “I don't fully understand the whys and wherefores myself, but that's the one immutable rule: you can't change the past, no matter how much you'd like to.”

“Then what's the gorram point?” Jayne asked, speaking up for the first time, “What do you do? Just go around and take photos like some Core-worlder out on the verge for the first time?”

“There are, ways, to make sure history goes as it should.” Jack scratched his head, trying to find to right words so that everyone could understand what he was trying to say, “There are two times when affecting the course of events are allowed: when you're trying to undo what someone else has done, and when you're caught in what they call a predetermination paradox. What that means is that you change the past, because that's what history says you did. There was a time when I worked for an organization that tried to stop the former, but that was a long, long time ago.”

“There is a hole in your mind.” River responded in a calm tone of voice.

“Yeah, there is.” Jack nodded, “Truth is, I came to this system because it seems to be the one place in the entire galaxy that everyone else seems intent on keeping out of.”

“How long have you been here?” Inara asked.

“I arrived here on the Lewis & Clark, but I started out on the Robbert McKenzie.” Jack admitted, “I kept my head down, changed my name a few times, moved about from ship to ship; the City Of New Orleans, the Outbound Light, the Endeavor. I think I spent time on every ship except the Cerberus.”

“The prison barge?” Simon's eyebrow shot up, then he saw the way the rest of the crew where looking at him, “I used to built models when I was a kid; I had the entire colonization fleet at one time.” He looked at River with a faint smile, “Until someone got hold of them...”

“That was almost a hundred years ago!” Kaylee sounded more than a little surprised, “We covered it in school. On one of the days the teacher wasn't too drunk to do anything but sleep that is.”

“Just how old are you, Jack?” Mal asked, his arms folded across his chest.

“Truthfully, I'm not sure anymore.” Jack shrugged, “I've moved around so much, so many places with different calendars and ideas of what constitutes a year. I could tell you when I was born in Galactic Standard, but that wouldn't mean anything to you.”

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The Alliance strike cruiser Mauvais Loup prowled the depths of space, a sinister black shadow against the stars. Running silent, it was as hard to spot as an honest politician a week after election day, its engines operating at a fraction of their full potential. In this state, the ship was effectively a hole in space, hidden from all but the most powerful and advanced sensors, such as the kind only found on major Alliance space stations.

The senior Operative stood at the back of the bridge, looking at the crew; they were all highly trained and loyal intelligence officers, but none of them could be trusted with the true nature of the mission. That was restricted, classified and compartmentalized; the rest of the crew knew only what they needed to know to complete their mission.

“Excuse me, sir?” The ship's nominal Captain looked round from his command seat in the middle of the cramped bridge, “We've picked up over energy signatures from over a dozen Firefly class transports that left Persephone in the last 48-hours.”

“Very good.” The Operative reached into his jacket pocked and pulled out a small optical disk, “This contains an emissions read on the ship we're looking for; run a filter to see if you find a match.”

“Sir.” The Captain nodded as he took the disk and inserted into the main console. The computer beeped as it assimilated the data and compared it to the traces the ships sensors had detected.

The main screen above the front view port lit up, a rainbow of colors indicating each individual signature. One by one they started to blink out, the computer filtering them out until only one remained. A second program ran an independent check, and came up with a near perfect match.

“Emission signature a 95-percent match, Sir.” The Captain reported, “Can't get better than that, given how old and dispursed the trail is.”

“Is it strong enough to give us a rough heading?” The Operative asked, leaning forward over the nervous officers chair.

“Looks like somewhere in the region of Heinlein; maybe Dyton or Triumph.” The Captain looked at a sub-screen, “Depending on how hard her crew were willing to push the engines, and how much fuel they were willing to burn, that's anything from eight to twelve days for a Firefly.”

“The flight plan they registered said Dyton.” The Operative nodded. There was no need for him to give out the information, other than the knowledge that Captains liked to be informed why they were being ordered to such an out of the way moon. “I want us there before they have a change to contact anyone on the ground without using the Cortex.”

“That shouldn't be a problem.” The Captain brought up a map of the system on the main screen, highlighting and expanding the area between Persephone and Heinlein, “This is their course.” A red line appeared on the screen, “The orbital mechanics are okay for an intercept, but they're keeping off the main space lanes, probably to avoid paying way-station tolls. They've also added a couple of days to their journey by staying too far away from Silverhold to get a gravitational boost. That's highly irregular, even for a ship that wants to stay off the official radar.”

“I'm sure that they have their reasons, but they are of no concern to us.” The Operative stepped back and turned towards the hatch, “Best speed for Dyton colony, and put us into a high orbit when we get there; we don't want to be too deep in the gravity well if they decide to bolt.”

“Sir.” The Captain nodded, waiting until the Operative was out of the room before turning to the young woman at the helm, “Take us out of orbit then plot us an optimum course for Dyton.”

“Taking us out of orbit and plotting optimum course for Dayton.” The young Lieutenant repeated the instructions in case there had been any miscommunication, then brought the cruisers engines up from stand-by to one-quarter power, keeping the stealth profile as they started to pull away from Persephone, “Approximate transition time seven days and two hours, sir.”

“Very good.” The Captain relaxed, once more feeling in command of his ship, “Proceed.”

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“Jack is, unusual, in an interesting way. In fact, I don't think I've ever met anyone quite like him.” Inara stood making some tea in the kitchen area, “And that's ignoring his self-proclaimed immortality and ability to travel through time and space, apparently at will.”

“He's always been a little, unconventional.” Zoë smiled faintly at some of the more pleasant memories from the War, “I mean, he can fight like the devil himself when he needs to, but outside of that, even when things were bad, he always had a joke to lighten the mood.”

“And the flirting?” The Companion asked, “Has it always been that bad?”

“Depends upon your point of view; I couldn't imagine him without the flirting.” The First Mate handed over two cups, “I don't think Jack even notices something like gender; if he finds someone attractive, he just has to flirt with them.”

“Has he ever flirted with you?”

“Once, but I put a stop to it immediately.”

“And Mal?”

“That's something you'll have to ask the Captain himself: there are some things I can live without knowing.” Zoë smiled as she carried her cup over to the table, “Talking about the Captain and flirting, how are thing between the two of you?”

“Complicated.” Inara admitted as she sat down, “I've taken an official sabbatical from the Guild while we try and work things out, but every time we talk, it come right back down to his, unhappiness, with my chosen profession.”

“He wants you to stop being a Companion?”

“Yes, and I can see his point of view, even if I don't agree with it. A Companions personal life can and should be kept separate from their work.”

“Couldn't you go back to teaching at the Training House?”

“And see Mal on the rare occasions work brought Serenity that way?” Inara thought for a moment, then shook her head, “No, I don't see that working either...”

The sound of voices and footsteps approaching from the hallway ended the conversation before it could go any further.

“I'm just saying, I've been around telepaths before, and it's normally a heredity trait.” Jack stepped through the hatch and moved to one side to allow Mal and Simon to pass.

“You think the Doc here might be a Reader too?” The Captain asked, surprised, “I have to disagree, given how bad he was at reading young Kaylee when he first come on-board.”

“I just think that it's something that should be looked into, that's all.” Jack leaned back against the hatchway, “From a genetics point of view, aside from the X/Y chromosomes, they're a very close match.”

“That's... not entirely true.” Simon shook his head, then looked round with a pained expression on his face, and his voice dropped to barely a whisper, “God only knows I love River and I'd gladly die for her, but she's not biologically speaking my sister: she was adopted.”

To Be Continued...