Too Pretty To Die Chapter 3

[miri1984]

Title: Misunderstandings
Words: 1500
Characters: Hawke, Sebastian, Fenris, Merrill, Carver, Aveline, Isabela
Summary: Who's the fed? And what's Doctor Finn got in his crate?
Title art by the amazing Uminoko on Deviant Art.
Chinese translations by Ouyangdan.
 

As she suspected, when she got to the cargo hold, the doctor was bent over the enormous crate he'd packed, checking whatever it was - guns, explosives, Alliance soldiers or fluffy bunnies, she didn't know she didn't care, but she damned sure didn't want it all over her ship and so she spun him around to face her.

"Forget your toothpaste?" she said, a second before her fist connected with his jaw.

Watching someone go down as a direct result of her fist never got old, no matter how many fancy guns she'd owned, the satisfaction of punching someone was like a fine wine, it spread all through her body and made her smile, even as she shook her hand and blew on the knuckles.

"Are you out of your mind?" he squawked, clambering back up to his feet and wiping his mouth.

"Just about. What'd you tell them?"

"Tell who?"

She drew on him. "I've got exactly no time for games," she said. "What do they know?"

"You're a lunatic."

"And you're a goram fed."

"Hate to say it captain," the soft voice of the shepherd intruded on her up-to-now enjoyable hitting-and-intimidating time and she frowned, glancing his way to see… oh that's not good Rolan, the boy stutterer, with his own weapon drawn and pointing directly at her. "But you've got the wrong man."

She let out a breath. One bit of luck. That's all she asked for. One goram tiny bit of luck would not go astray in this 'verse… "Son of a bitch," she breathed.

"Drop that firearm Captain Hawke," Rolan said, no trace of his stutter evident any longer. She shook her head and tossed her gun aside.

"This is not my best day ever," she muttered.

"Florian Finneas Horatio Aldebrant, you are bound by law to stand down," Rolan said and Saoirse blinked a few times before letting out an incredulous chuckle.

She looked at the doctor next to her, who had raised his hands, shoulders slumping in defeat. "That's your name?" she said. The eyebrow of doom shot up. She had to learn how to do that - it was amazing. "What… sorry? You mean…" she waved to Rolan and Finn and shrugged again. "The doctor? Oh.. hey.. is there a reward?"

Rolan's eyes were feral and warning bells were going off in the back of Saoirse's brain, despite the relief she was feeling. "Get on the ground." Finn simply stared at him, and there was a muscle working in his jaw that made Saoirse wish she hadn't thrown her gun away… "Get on the ground," Rolan repeated.

"You're making a mistake," Finn said softly.

"You'd best get on the ground, son, the law man seems a mite twitchy." Very twitchy, actually. In her experience they tended to be a little bit more implacable rage and superiority and less… nervous arsehole.

"I think everyone could stand to calm down, here," Vael said. She wondered where he'd learned that tone of voice - exactly the right level of kind, fatherly concern to make them all feel like children who were in the wrong. Saoirse resisted it. Unfortunately, so did the fed.

"This isn't your business shepherd," he said.

"Boy's not going anywhere law man," Vael had both hands out, unthreatening, textbook stuff, right there. Here's another story I've only got a couple of sentences of, she thought. "As I understand it it's pretty cold outside."

"Not to worry," she said, smiling and leaning down towards her gun. See, she thought, I can do non-threatening too! "We'll put Lord Fontleroy here in one of the passenger cells he won't make a peep…"

"Get the hell away from that weapon!" She jumped and stood upright again. Oookay, maybe I can't… "Do you think I'm a complete backbirth? You're carrying a fugitive across interplanetary borders and you think I actually believe you're bringing medical supplies to Whitefall? As far as I care everyone on this ship is culpable."

There was a pregnant silence. She looked at him, at the gun in his hand, the expression on his face, and she bit her lip. "Well now, that has an effect on the landscape."

"We're very close to true stupidity here," Vael said. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. No preacher man, you've obviously never seen true stupidity…

"We've got a cruiser on route to intercept so talk all you want," the fed said. "You got about twenty minutes."

"Might have less than that," she said.

The next minute never ever sorted itself out in her mind. Too much happened too quickly - like in the heat of battle with bullets and fire and ships and men and women screaming. She only knew that she didn't have control. Something needed to be done to get that control back.

"Yeah. Threaten me…" the fed's knuckles whitened on the trigger…

"….For God's sake!" Vael's voice hit a new pitch of desperation.

"…..You think I wouldn't shoot a shepherd? Back off!" the gun pointed away from her briefly but it wasn't long enough for anything useful…

She made a grab for the doctor, "…..just take the kid…" she shouted…

"Get your hands off…" Finn.

"Stand the hell down…" The Fed.

"I'm not going to stand here where there is…" Preacher.

"What is going…?" Merrill's voice. What is she doing here…?

The gunshot, the Shepherd attacking Rolan, the Doctor's surprisingly not skinny arm clasped firmly in her hand, the confusion, all of this fades into insignificance when she sees the splash of blood on Merrill's overalls - how the hell had he managed to shoot Merrill and when did everyone else get here and…

"Zhe shi bu de liao,"* she muttered, making her way to Merrill's side, shoving the doctor away.

"Merrill!" Carver was there, and so was Fenris, and Saoirse saw Aveline covering Rolan.. or was it Carver? with her shotgun. The Shepherd had laid him out - the Shepherd was telling Carver he wasn't allowed to kill the man, and although Saoirse wasn't keen on having a dead law man in their hold seeing Merrill's pale, terrified face and watching blood leaking over Fenris' immaculate brocaded cheongsam made parts of her rage.

The doctor was there. Some of the rage bled away as she watched him work - neat, precise hands, no fear of blood - the man knew what he was doing and she remembered he'd said he was a trauma surgeon - if there was anything about this that wasn't traumatic she'd love to know it but when the intercom bleeped and Bell said there was an incoming cruiser and suddenly Finn was standing up and not helping Merrill Saoirse felt the tide of rage threatening to break once again.

"Saoirse," Fenris' voice was calm, measured… trained. "Saoirse you have to do as he says."

"Hell with that!"

"Saoirse, Merrill is going to die."

"You're a goram doctor!"

Finn's mouth twisted in self loathing. He knows, she thought, he knows he's betraying everything he stands for and he's still going to do it.

Her nostrils flared and she started to shout at Fenris but then Merrill screamed and she couldn't hear or see anything but Serenity Valley and Merrill wasn't Merrill any more she was Bethany and god damn it all, she wasn't going to let her die this time…

"Aveline. Tell Bell to turn the ship around."

Finn's eyes cleared and he lunged towards Merrill - perhaps, maybe the bluff was just a bluff but she wasn't a medical woman, she didn't know - the way Finn obviously knew - exactly what was needed to keep Merrill alive or at least give her a chance and it was a risk she just…

…hadn't been able to take.

They carried Merrill to the infirmary and Saoirse stayed, with Fenris (who was more familiar with medical procedures than a soldier who'd once dug a bullet out of her own thigh with a penknife) to make sure the doctor did his work and did it well. She trusted Aveline to have dealt with the fed, trusted Bell to keep them out of the hands of the cruiser, trusted her crew to do their jobs, but she felt twitchy, not just from the possibility of losing Merrill - the girl could make the engine work with nothing but a couple of bolts and a truck load of enthusiasm, but because things were spiraling out of control and much as she lived this life because she hated the thought of being tied down - to a planet, to a job, to an idealogy - there was living dangerously and living crazily and she didn't know if they'd finally tipped over into the latter…

When Finn stripped off the gloves and let out a heavy sigh Saoirse sucked at her teeth.

"There's nothing more I can do until she stabilises," he said.

"Will she?"

"I can't say…"

"I want to know what's going on here," Fenris said, staring hard at Finn with a gaze that she didn't doubt was making the doctor feel like a three year old.

"Then why don't we find out?" she said, heading out towards the cargo hold with determined steps. She could hear Fenris and Carver behind her, felt the desperate fingers of the doctor on her arm as she walked, but she shook him off, stalking towards the crate that the Doctor had been so… meticulous about from the very moment they took it on board. That was where the secret was - that was what had driven a man, who she suspected was, underneath all the pomp and money, good in a way that would only cause trouble for her and hers, to do despicable things.

"No, stay away from that!" The doctor's voice was high and desperate, but he was held securely by the massive arms of Carver and she nodded, glad, once again, to have him at her back.

"Where's the fed?" she asked.

"Secure," Carver replied, showing his teeth. "Shepherd's with him. Seems to think he's not safe with me."

She smiled slightly and eyed Finn. "Well. Let's see what a man like you would kill for." She pulled the crate out - it was surprisingly heavy - even for its size, and there was some sort of machinery attached to it - cold storage, she'd thought at first, although now she wasn't so sure. It wasn't hard to open, though, which in hindsight was a mistake on the Doctor's part, or at least she thought so, until the seals came loose and the clouds of steam cleared and she could see what was inside.

A man. Naked. Curled around in a ball of pale skin and gold-red hair and freckles in interesting places.

Her brain, which up to now had been racing ahead in leaps and bounds of speculation and logic spluttered to a halt. She looked up at the Doctor, who had his eyes closed in despair, then back down at the curled figure in the crate.

"Huh," she said.

*This is a mess.