Kitty woke up on a cot and started to panic even before her eyes were fully open. She thrashed against arms clawing and explosions that flung debris into her eyes.

"Wilde is waking up, ma'am." A lilting voice said near Kitty's head, and she jerked away from it.

Hands were on her shoulders and she struggled even harder.

"Good, back off, Rose. I'm going to give her something"

Kitty felt a sharp prick and slowly the panic faded and she felt the calm returning to her mind.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at a bright, white ceiling, and suddenly a masked face leaned over her.

"Private Wilde, can you hear me?"

Kitty blinked a few times, and nodded. "Yes ma'am."

Her voice was froggy, so she cleared it and tried again. "I'm here, ma'am. I'm awake."

The facemask came down and Kitty was looking at a smiling face. Her eyes shifted to the name patch on the woman's chest. Del Monico.

Del Monico and the one called Rose spent a few minutes looking at charts and readouts, punching numbers into a machine, and poking and prodding Kitty all over before they returned their attention to her face.

"I'm Major Terri Del Monico, at your service." The blonde woman nodded over to the other. "And this is Lieutenant Marley Rose. She's been looking after you for the past couple of days. Do you know what day it is?"

Kitty shut her eyes for a moment, and snapped them back open. She looked around the room; crisp and sterile. It was nothing like the bunker that she'd been in before. She listened for the sounds that were familiar to her, Corporal Lopez, the squabbling of the McCarthys, distant mortar fire. But nothing came through. She shook her head.

"No ma'am. The last thing I remember is being in a bunker. I don't remember much else."

Del Monico nodded thoughtfully, and turned, murmuring something to Rose. She turned back and the chipper smile was replaced with something a bit more strained.

"Do you remember how you got to the bunker, Wilde?"

Kitty closed her eyes again, a bit longer this time, and placed a hand over her eyes. Suddenly the memories came flooding back. They were back in the bunker, all of them. She hadn't thought that Mason and Sergeant Jones were going to make it, and finally they'd come busting down the steps, ass over tea kettle. They'd both been knocked unconscious by a flying shell, but the Sergeant was up and giving orders before and hour was up. Mason… Well, Mason had seemed fine at first, but by the end of the day was back in bed. Madison wouldn't leave his side. And he'd just faded and faded until…

"Private Wilde?"

Major Del Monico's voice cut through the memory and Kitty snapped back to the present.

"Yes, ma'am? Sorry, ma'am."

"I asked you if you remembered how you'd gotten into the bunker."

There was no hesitation this time. "Yes, ma'am. The 57th Overland found me, and brought me over. They saved me ma'am. Sergeant Mercedes Jones and her crew."

Terri nodded and again turned to Marley, muttering a few words. She turned back.

"How about before that, Wilde?"

There was something that the major wasn't asking, and Kitty couldn't be sure of what it was. On second thought, why would a major be here asking her questions about the 57th? Why would she be here at all? Suddenly the room was too bright and too busy and too loud. Kitty could feel her breath picking up again.

"Her heart rates up, ma'am." Marley said.

"Yes, I can see that, Lieutenant." Terri's voice was flat and affectless. "Bring her down, I'll be back later."

Major Del Monico walked away and Kitty was left alone with Marley. She could feel her veins burning as some new drug was introduced into her system. She reached a hand out.

"Lieutenant. What does she want from me? What does she want to know?"

Marley shrugged and kept her head down, focusing on the machine that was attached to Kitty, the frantic beeping now dropping into a monotonous rhythm. Kitty tried again.

"Where is the 57th? Corporal Jones? Everybody? Are they okay? Why is she here asking about them?"

Marley looked like she wasn't going to say a word, then she quickly lowered the touchpad she'd been desperately stabbing at and sneaking a glance towards the door.

Seeing it was clear, she kneeled beside Kitty's bed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Kitty could feel the effects of whatever drug she'd been given pulling at her mind. She blinked a few times to steady herself and took a deep breath.

"It was the day after the surrender. We were in the bunker. People were sick." Her eyes went wider as the memories came flooding back. "They were dying. Mason…" She couldn't finish the thought.

"You leg got infected, and they put you under. Hoping you'd make it until the med ships came." Marley finished.

"But-"

"Ten days. It's been ten days since you got broke with Company C. As far as we could tell, anyway."

Kitty shook her head. "But that's impossible. It'd spent four days in the bunker already-"

"How'd you get to the 57th, Wilde?"

"What?"

"Company C was obliterated. Wiped off the map. Far as we can tell, not a single person survived. Except for you, of course. I think that's what the Major wants to know. People are asking questions about it. How does a single soldier from Company C end up mixed in with the 57th? She wants to know how you survived."

There was a long pause between the two of them. Kitty found it hard keeping her eyes open, but she wanted to respond. She knew she had to.

"I ran. I ran as hard as I could, and I never looked back."

"Private Wilde-"

"I just ran."

\

The thing about a set up is that even when you know it's a set up, even when you know that things aren't on the up and up, you can never be sure exactly how things are going to go wrong.

Brittany hadn't known either Santana or Mercedes for that long. She didn't have to. She wouldn't have taken the job as their pilot if she had even for a second not trusted them. But for most jobs she was tucked in safe on the bridge. She only had to think about escape routes and evasion techniques. But lately, every time they'd set off the ship, she'd felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. One that seemed to know exactly how to make her paranoid. The one that kept whispering that they might not come back.

She'd started the landing procedures on the captain's orders. They'd be on the ground in minutes. Not too far from where she and Santana were meeting Al Motta's contact. Only a few minutes before the Captain and Puck and Sugar were out on the mule and on their way. Only a few minutes before Santana went along with them. Only a few minutes before she was off to a meeting that could very well not go as planned.

On the ship, she was the one in control. She knew exactly what buttons to push on the console to make Songbird do exactly what she wanted. She knew what buttons to push on the crew too. She knew that if she wanted something done doubletime quick in the engine room, all she had to do was promise Kurt some strawberries when they landed. She knew that the fastest way to get some entertainment going was to suggest that Puck should challenge Shannon to an arm wrestling contest. And even with the escapades of the day, she knew that Mike would be trusted on to put a smile on her face with a joke, and was a terrific dancer. She knew what things were what there on Songbird. She knew which way was up and could (for the most part) expect things to work out in a certain way. But when they were on the ground, she couldn't help how powerless she felt. And this was when everything was going well. This was when everything was planned to perfection. And this was certainly not one of those situations.

"So, you're going to take the Mule?"

"Yeah." Santana said absentmindedly.

"And you're going to meet at the coordinates?"

"Yeah."

Santana leaned over the console, taking stock of the rendezvous point on the read out. She was doing her best to ignore Brittany, but, of course, that proved to be near impossible.

"And you're going to take Sugar."

Santana sighed exasperatedly. "Well, yeah, Britt, they'd know as soon as we got there if we didn't have Sugar."

Brittany sat back, and then sat forward again. "So, you want to tell me how this isn't falling into the trap exactly?"

"It isn't, ok?"

"How?"

"Well, because the Captain has a plan."

"A plan to do exactly what they say?"

"Yeah, that's a part of it."

"And the rest?"

"Puck's going to be there. He's going to be pulling point."

"And if they spot him? Or get you in a bind?"

"I guess we'll figure that out at the time."

"Gorramit, Santana, I'm being serious!" Brittany brought her hand down in the fist on the console. Immediately regretting her decision, and rubbing a hand over where she'd struck, she muttered a quiet apology to Songbird.

Santana stopped, sitting up and regarding her carefully. "I don't get why you care, Britt. Anyway, I thought you were mad at me from before."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "And I thought we were over that. I figure you've got your reasons for falling in step behind Mercedes. I know a bit about them, and maybe I won't ever know all of them. But that's not for me to say. Anyway, that doesn't mean I want you to go off half cocked with some shoddy plan that gets you killed."

"If that's an apology, it sucks."

"It's not."

"Not what?"

Brittany sighed. "Not an apology."

"Well, here goes my non-apology as well. I know you don't get me and the Captain, and I've seen and done a lot of things that I'm not altogether proud of. But, we did what we had to do. And we still do. Not just for myself, Britt, but for everybody on this boat. For you."

Brittany regarded her carefully, and nodded. "Well, non-apology not accepted."

"Same."

Santana turned back to her console and looked through the viewfinder for a moment more. "Anyway, I still don't see why you care."

"What?"

"Why do you care if I get killed? Like, I get it, we're friends. You like me. But, I've been on this boat a long time, and I'll be here a long time and-"

Brittany stood up, putting both of her hands on Santana's arms, turning her around and squeezing gently. To be honest, she'd never met a more clueless person. She'd tried dropping hints, she'd tried being subtle, but obviously, she's was dealing with a case of advanced dopeyness. She waited until Santana's voice trailed off and cleared her throat.

"Santana?"

Santana's eyes got wide and swallowed. "Uh, yes, Britt?"

"Santana, I know we haven't known each other that long…"

"Yeah, Britt."

"But, I really, really like you."

"What-?"

"And, I want you to come back safe."

Santana nodded nervously.

"Now, I'm going to kiss you. If that's ok. Is that ok, Santana?"

Santana's eyes got impossibly wider and she nodded again.

"Just tell me to stop if it's not ok."

Brittany watched carefully as she leaned in, and then, ever so softly, pressed her lips against Santana's. The drone of the engines and the machinery on the bridge faded to a distant hum as she felt the fullness of Santana's lips against her own. She'd spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like when they first really kissed. To be completely honest she'd spent more than her fair share of time studying the roundness of of Santana's mouth, and the exquisite shape of her lips. She'd imagined that the moment of the kiss would have happened after a long night's dish session, or particularly enthusiastic game of chess that would be over once Brittany stole Santana's king and hid it somewhere on her person. She always had her ways of getting close to Santana. She'd always had her little tricks. But she didn't feel like playing tricks anymore. The only important thing now is that Santana knew how important she was to her.

The kiss itself was a magical thing. Brittany could almost feel her feet rising off of the floor. If she had spent hours imagining what it would be like to kiss Santana, even her wildest fantasies were nothing compared to the reality. Santana's mouth was warm and inviting, and after a moment (a nanosecond really) of surprised resistance, she melted into Brittany so completely that Brittany nearly melted herself.

As she felt her heart racing, and the kiss becoming more insistent, Brittany pulled back suddenly, snapping her eyes open and meeting Santana's dreamy expression with one of her own. She hadn't wanted it to end, but she figured another moment and it would have gone from a chaste expression of concern to a full out make out session, and she didn't want to be a distraction. Not yet anyway. She'd save that for when Santana was back safely.

"I hope that was ok."

"Yeah? Ok? Yeah, no, it was, yeah."

"Santana?"

Santana, who'd still had her eyes closed, opened them lazily and gave Brittany a smile. "Yeah, Britt?"

"Do you know why I did that?"

There was a moment of indecision, and Santana didn't hold her gaze.

"Because…"

"Because I like you. And I'm pretty sure you like me."

"Oh, I do!" Santana moved forward this time, taking Brittany's hands. "I really do."

"Good. I couldn't let you go without telling you that. And making sure you really get… How, um, important you are to me. I couldn't let you go without you knowing that. Just promise me that you won't go out of your way to get yourself killed, please?"

"I promise, Britt."

They looked at each other a moment longer in silence before Mercedes' voice filled the bridge.

"Santana, how are we looking down there? Are we ready? Puck is getting antsy, and you know I can't give him the rifle without him wanting to pull the trigger before too long. I don't care if it's loaded or not, Puck, you are not allowed until we get planetside! Brittany, let's go, I want to get her landed. Have you started protocols yet?"

Brittany freed one of her hands, and reached over, pressing a button on the dash. "We'll be landed in about three minutes, Cap'n. And Santana is on her way down now."

"Good. You're in charge until I get back. What in the ruttin' hell? Puck I swear on the seven hells if you don't put that back where you got it from, so help me-"

The comm cut off, and there was silence again. Brittany smiled as Santana leaned forward pressing her head on Brittany's shoulder.

"Do you think you're ready?"

"Yeah, I figure I'm about as prepared as I can be."

"Remember your promise, Santana. You've gotta come back to me."

There was a hitch in Santana's voice before she replied. She cleared her throat. "I know it, Britt. I'll come back."

With that, and without another glance, Santana left the bridge, and was down the ladder in a flash. Brittany sat back down at the controls, and made ready to ease Songbird in for a landing.

"You'd better, Lopez."

They were still a few minutes out, but Mercedes couldn't stand it anymore, and sent Puck to the mess hall to find some tape. She wasn't sure she'd need it, but Puck always got so antsy before a job, the best thing to do was to be rid of him for a while. Once the job started, sure, he was one of the best, but only if she didn't kill him before they got out there.

She had busied herself checking the ammo tins when she heard footsteps approaching. They weren't the commanding ones of her first mate, or the careless ones that told her Puck had finished the job more quickly than she'd assumed. They were quiet, thoughtful. She didn't need to turn to know who they belonged to.

"Can I help you, Ms. Chang? Or should I say, Fabray?"

"Chang will do just fine."

They both hesitated for a moment.

"Rachel's awake."

Mercedes smiled to herself. "Is that so?"

"Yes, she's, um, well, she won't stop talking. I suppose that's how we know she's almost at 100%."

"That's our Rachel."

"She kept saying she wanted to see you and complain about the "treatment she's been getting most recently", but honestly, I think she's just glad to be alive."

"I'll have to go check on her once I get back."

"Yes, you should."

Mercedes frowned and slowly turned away from the ammo crates. There was something in Quinn's voice that gave her pause. There was something missing.

"But, I get the feeling you didn't come all the way down here just to give me the good news. What's going on, Chang?"

Mercedes should have expected a long, drawn out answer, but she knew Quinn far too well for that.

"I'm here to ask for a favor, Captain."

"A favor?"

"Yes. I know you're not one to give them lightly, but I don't feel that I have much of a choice in this case."

What little good natured humor Mercedes was able to muster up left when she heard Quinn's tone. "What is it?"

"First of all, I want to apologize for Mike. I mean, what happened with Mike. I'm sure he'll apologize himself, because he likes Rachel, I know he does, but he was desperate."

Mercedes didn't say anything, but this was the first time she'd heard Quinn speak so quickly. Usually everything she said was measured and planned. Now, it was as if she had no idea what she was going to say next.

"He isn't like that. Not really. The man I know… The one I grew up with would never have done something like that. It's not to excuse it, but to say that I know how desperate he must have felt. He thought he didn't have a choice, and maybe he didn't. But I do."

"A choice in what?"

"You have business that's going to take you to Greenleaf, right? That's why you're going there after you leave here."

Mercedes nodded.

"I ask that you leave me here. On Constance"

"By yourself? Don't get me wrong, Constance ain't no hellhole, but it's no place for a respectable lady such as yourself to-"

"I know the risks, Captain. All I ask is that you don't tell Mike. Once he gets to Greenleaf, he'll try to get back here, but hopefully by then, I'll be long gone."

"By yourself Quinn? Out in the 'Verse? Facing who knows what? 太危险."

"Believe it or not, Captain, I can take care of myself. I've been doing it a long time. Mike'll be better off without me. I don't like the man he's becoming out here. And maybe that's my doing, and maybe it isn't, but I think that if I'm gone he'll have a better chance."

Quinn's voice betrayed her uncertainty, but Mercedes didn't call her out on it. In fact, all things being equal, she was rather proud. It took a certain amount of guts to do what Quinn wanted to do. Mercedes didn't envy her position, but she could admire the way she was dealing with it.

"Mike wouldn't forgive me, Quinn."

"And what do you care? You're putting us out at Greenleaf already. Together or apart shouldn't make a difference to you." Her chin stuck out defiantly. "Anyway, once whoever that Fed contacted gets a hold of us, we're all going to be running regardless. I'd just rather do it alone. Less baggage that way."

Mercedes looked Quinn up and down for a long moment. "I reckon so."

"So, what do you say, Captain? Mercedes?"

Mercedes hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Fine. If you're sure that's what you want to do."

"I am."

"Ok. All I ask is that you wait until we get back from the drop before you set off. This job could go dangerous, and you don't want to be walking off into the unknown and there's bullets flying."

Now the hesitation came from Quinn, but she nodded as well. "Fine. But I won't wait forever, Captain."

"No, I doubt you wouldn't."

Quinn stuck out her hand to Mercedes, smiling slightly. "It's been, well, it's been interesting Captain. I don't think I'll cross paths with someone as entertaining as you again."

Mercedes took Quinn's hand, shaking it firmly. "Same goes for you, Chang. Quinn."

The name hung in the air and neither wanted to be the one who broke the spell. They stood there, hands still clasped, regarding each other carefully.

"Captain-. Mercedes-" Quinn started.

"Captain, we're all ready to go. The area's scoped out and I got this really nice spot for Puck to-" Santana stopped on the stairs, frowning as she watched Mercedes and Quinn take a step back from each other. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"What? No!" Quinn said quickly, smoothing her clothes, and brushing past Santana up the stairs. "I was just chatting with the Captain for a moment. Have fun on your little expedition, Santana. Don't get killed."

"What's with everybody thinking that we're going to get killed? It's a simple drop off, we've done it a million times before!" Santana shouted after her. She watched Quinn climb the steps out of the cargo bay, and moved towards Mercedes, climbing up into the mule and checking her weapons.

Santana busied herself for a few moments, and Mercedes went back to her ammo crates. When she had counted, re-counted and re-re-counted, she sat down with a thump.

"Well?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Aren't you going to ask me what that was all about?"

Santana seemed to think about it for a moment.

She scratched her chin. "Wasn't planning on it, Captain. But, I figure you'll tell me if you want me to know."

Mercedes opened her mouth to respond, but Puck was barrelling down the stairs, stomping his way towards them.

"I found the tape, Cap'n! It was by the hold, so I thought I'd go rough up that Fed a bit more before we got on our way."

"Just get in the mule, Puck."

Sugar came down the steps a moment later, and delicately climbed aboard.

"It's certainly not the most comfortable way to travel, is it, Captain?"

"I suppose not, Ms. Motta, but I hope we won't have to be in it for too long. Wouldn't want you to bruise up."

Santana made a great show of checking her shotgun, but directed her comments towards Mercedes. "I take it you and Quinn made up?"

"I told you, hearteyes." Sugar offered.

"It don't matter much now."

There was a defeated tone in Mercedes voice, and Santana met Sugar's gaze, wide eyed. "Captain-"

"Let's just finish this job. It's all we've got left to do now. We needed it, and we need the cash. And just pray that everything goes alright."

"Yes, sir."

There was a thud that signified Songbird had finally touched down and a chirp on their radios confirmed it.

"We're landed, Captain. Opening the bay doors now." Brittany said.

"Good." Mercedes said, pressing a button on her radio. "I take it that you and Brittany made up?"

Mercedes turned a cheeky grin to Santana, who didn't meet her eye.

"W-what makes you say that, Captain?"

"Well, I know your shade Santana, and bubblegum pink just ain't it."

Santana's eyes went wide, and she frantically rubbed her sleeve across her lips a few times.

"Romance is in the air? What a time to be aboard Songbird!" Sugar swooned.

"Oh, that's hot." Whispered Puck.

"Enough, you two. We've got a drop to ruin."

"Shiny!" Puck said, pulling back the hammer on his rifle. "Let's be bad guys."

With that Mercedes guided the mule out of the cargo hold, and they were on their way.

\

"Where is she?"

Lieutenant Marley Rose looked up from her tablet. She'd been monitoring the sleep of one of her many patients, and trying her best not to think about the death and despair she'd seen over the last few days. She hadn't even been with the Browncoats for that long before she'd be called to serve, and even a shorter time between then and the surrender. If it were up to her she'd still be back on Ariel, learning her trade. But, the call had come for medics, and while she hadn't been on any one side in particular during the fighting, she knew folks who had, and had signed up with the effort. That wasn't to say she was a Browncoat. Or a Purple belly for that matter. She was just Marley. Regardless, she hadn't been prepared to see all the death she'd seen in the last few weeks.

The Browncoats had given up the effort, and the Alliance had accepted their surrender. Medships in the area had been dispatched all over the system, but her rig and her promotion seeking commander had ended up in the Georgian system. It was all well and good considering that this place probably needed them more than any other. Her boss, Major Del Monico was more interested in looking good to the Alliance than actually doing any good. But Marley followed orders and helped out when she could. It wasn't much, but it was all she could do.

Luckily for them, medics were considered low on the list of potential war criminals, so they were left to do as they pleased. Unfortunately for her, at the moment, there were plenty of 生闷气的 Browncoats skulking the halls to make her life miserable.

"Can I help you?"

The woman who approached her now was one such soldier. She was bandaged up pretty good, her arm in a sling, and the other hand completely covered. But she had the bearing of a commanding officer, so, Marley tried to giver her some respect.

"Can I help you, please?"

The woman marched up to her, stabbing a finger in her direction. "I am looking for Private Kitty Wilde. I heard she was being held here, and I won't abide by any more delays."

Marley noted the nametape and rank of the fellow officer, and tried out her most pleasant voice. "I'm sorry Corporal Jones, but Private Wilde isn't-"

"Now, you listen to me, gorramit. I've been put through too much today and every day leading up to this point to be talked down to by some mealy mouthed space surgeon. I aim to see Private Wilde, and I will see her now. With or without your help."

Marley thought for a moment about calling security. Her fellow doctors and the nurses on the unit were looking to her, ready to take her lead. But there was something in the Corporal's voice that made her stop. She could keep fighting, but there was something there that told her it would be a losing battle.

Marley pointed towards the end of one of the rows. "She's down there."

Jones took off at a fast clip, and Marley followed. Kitty was laying there, wafting in and out of consciousness. The last of the fever brought on by infection still doing it's best to make life more difficult for her. The corporal kneeled beside the bed, taking quick stock of Kitty's situation and looking at her closely.

"How long has she been like this?" she asked, not looking at Marley.

"A few days. We're fairly sure she'll pull through, but she doesn't seem to be getting any better or worse. We think her leg might be healed soon enough, though."

Jones sighed, but didn't respond.

"I thought she was in Company C."

"What? Oh, yeah. She was."

"Then why are you here? I thought were commanding the 57th?"

Corporal Jones sighed. "I was. I mean, I am. But, she was with us at the end. I wanted to see with my own two eyes that she was ok. We lost so many. We lost-"

She trailed off, and Marley didn't ask for her to finish.

"Anyway, I just wanted to make sure she was alright. I didn't want to lose another one, not when we were so close."

There was a moment of silence before Marley cleared her throat. "You should let her sleep, Corporal. I have a feeling she's going to need her rest."

Jones stood up quickly and took one last look at the bed. "You'll take care of her, won't you? You'll make sure that she's ok?"

"Of course, Corporal, that's what we do here."

"Good, good. I guess I've got no choice but to trust you."

Marley smiled. "Try to get some rest, yourself, Corporal Jones. You look like you could use it."

"You're probably right."

Marley watched as Jones walked away. She couldn't be sure, but there was a sadness in her shoulders that seeing Wilde seemed to make worse, not better. She could only imagine what Jones had seen. The misery, the despair, the death… It really made her wonder if it was all worth it. In the end, whatever she did wouldn't be able to erase those horrific memories from the minds of the soldiers that she treated. Long after the physical scars were gone, the mental ones would endure. Long past the point of treatment, long past the point of cure. She felt helpless thinking about it.

Marley shook herself. She took one last look at Private Wilde, and checked her vitals. There was no point getting caught up in all that. In what could and should be. She could only do what she could, and move on. She only hoped that everyone there could do the same.

\

"Testing, testing. You hearing me alright, Captain?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes at Puck, who was close by her elbow. "'Course I am, Puck, I'm standing right here."

"Oh yeah, you're coming in real clear."

"Because I'm standing right here." She bumped his shoulder hard as she went past to stand higher on the ridge. The mule was parked a few yards behind them, Sugar still perched daintily on top and Santana looked off into the distance through her specs.

"See anything yet?"

"From the rendezvous spot? Yes, sir. I see about a half dozen places where baddies could be hiding, but I've only seen a couple that seem occupied."

"Good. Point 'em out to Puck and let's get ready to move."

She left Santana to direct Puck and she took out her own binocs, scanning for horizon.

"Just like the old days, huh, Santana? Kind of makes you nostalgic."

"Not me, sir. I spent most of the old days getting shot at." Santana deadpanned.

"Well, then it might be more like the old days than not." Mercedes turned to Puck. "You ready, Puckerman?"

"Yep, I'm going to head up to that ridge-" Puck started pointing into the distance. "Take out the guy there, and then finish the rest of 'em up. Then I'll radio back to you, and let you know that everything is clear."

"Well, lookie there, Puckerman. You're not quite as worthless as you make out to be."

"Thanks, Cap'n. I- Wait a second."

"Well, don't just stand there, Puck, get to it. We'll wait for your signal."

Puck hesitated a moment and seemed to decide that the Captain's words were more complimentary than he'd first thought and jogged off, out of sight of the far ridge, but in the direction of it.

Mercedes went back towards the mule, and while she climbed on, Santana stayed on the ground.

"It's no rush, Lopez. I reckon Puck's shenanigans will give us about ten minutes before we need to make a move."

"I'd like to keep an eye out, sir."

"Good idea. Try to stay out of sight."

"Yes, sir."

Santana made her way up the ridge, and got low, eventually getting on her stomach before crawling out of sight.

"They're a good team." Sugar piped up.

Mercedes nodded. "That they are."

"Do you think you thought of everything?"

Mercedes considered the question for a moment. "I doubt it, but who could have, really? Whatever problems we face- and we'll face 'em, I'm sure- we'll just take them one at a time. It's the only way to deal with situations such as these."

"Are you always so zen?"

"In my line of work? You have to be."

...

Shannon Beiste was sure she'd considered every possibility when it came to making a home on Songbird. She'd thought she'd made peace with the kind of work they did. She figured she could stomach the crime, the theft, and the duplicity. But now Reavers were knocking at their door, and they were threatening murder to law men. This was beyond the point of no return. This was criminality of the highest caliber. That didn't mean that she somehow thought she could turn them in. No, nothing that stark. But she had to do something to soothe her conscience. So, that's how she found herself outside of the hold, thinking about the best way to get Hudson off the ship before the Captain came back. She didn't have to give him a radio and a hundred credits. But she could at least get them out of mortal danger.

She knocked a few times on the hold door. "Mr. Hudson? This is the Shepherd. Are you, um, are you in there?"

There was no response and Shannon knocked again. "Mr. Hudson, I understand you're in a bit of bind, but I'm here to help, I assure you. I come with no ulterior motive, but to do some good in these trying times."

Again, no response.

"Mr. Hudson?"

Visions of the lawman, beaten to a bloody pulp by Puck flashed through her head. He lay on the floor, choking on his own blood, and if only, if only someone had come to his aid earlier, his death could have been wholly avoided. She scrambled with the lock for a moment, and pulled open the door. To her surprise the room was empty.

"What the-"

Shannon took a few steps inside and looked around frantically. Suddenly there was a hard weight on her back, and then, nothing.

Finn Hudson stood over Shannon's unconscious body, and quickly pulled the last pieces of tape from around his wrists.

"Should have stayed out of it, Preacher. Now you're going away with the rest of them."

Finn rushed out of the hold, and pulled the door closed behind him, locking it. He knew since they touched down, some if not all of the crew would be dealing with that Sugar Motta drop. He wasn't worried about that now. Jacob had made it clear that there were protocols in place should he fail. Now he was focused on the Changs. He'd recognized Quinn the moment he'd gotten on board the boat. Between the acclaim that would come from putting Jones and her filthy smugglers away, and all those credits he'd be getting once he brought in Quinn Fabray… Well, he had every incentive to get this right.

He grabbed a loose pipe and roamed down the hallway getting close to the mess hall and, peeking around a corner until he heard voices.

"How do you think the Captain's doing, Quinn?" Kurt asked, his worry evident in his voice.

"I'm sure she's fine, Kurt. Just try to relax, ok?"

"I don't know if I can, it's just so much going on. I'm usually excited for these things, but that Fed is down there, and…"

Finn was about to make a move when heavy footsteps behind him drove him further into a hidden corner.

"Quinn, what's this?"

Finn moved out a little into the hallway to try and get a glimpse into the mess hall. He couldn't make out what exactly was going on, but Mike's voice was angry.

"It looks like a suitcase, Mike."

"Kurt, I didn't ask you. Quinn, what's happening? Why are all your things packed away?"

"That's none of your business, Mike."

"None of my-? Are you serious? Everything that's happened since the day I pulled you out of school has been my business. Where are you planning on going? Where are you going?"

"That's none of your business either, Mike, I-"

The voices had come towards him so quickly Finn hadn't had time to hide again and suddenly he was face to face with Quinn. Neither of them had barely had a moment to react when Mike came barreling towards his midsection, shoulder first.

There was a tremendous grunt as they both hit the floor, and the pipe that Finn had in his hand went flying. Kurt gave a little squeak and went after it, and in a flash Mike was straddling Finn, raining blows down as quickly as he could.

Finn pushed off with his legs, and sent Mike flying, shoved Quinn out of the way, and heading straight for Kurt. He slammed a fist into Kurt's jaw and grabbed the pipe as the other man went down.

"Kurt!" Quinn screamed. In an instant, she was holding onto the pipe as well, and tugging desperately. Finn flung her roughly off to the side, and sent a kick in her direction. She landed in a heap, but before he could turn again, there was a heavy weight on his shoulders as Mike jumped onto his back. He swung the pipe around wildly, getting a few solid hits onto his back before Mike slid to the floor. He brought the pipe down a couple more times for good measure on Mike's crumpled form. Finn reached for Quinn, pulling her up by the hair, ignoring the yelps that came from her.

"All I wanted was a little cooperation." He said, tugging at Quinn's hair brutally. "I am a man of the law! I have never met a bunch of people more dead set on being on the wrong side of it."

He yanked Quinn to her feet, and using the pipe, guided her out of the mess hall. "Come on now, Ms. Fabray. Our landing party should be here shortly and we don't want to be late."

...

"Captain Jones, I presume?"

The woman from the wave walked towards them, settling in a few feet away. Santana couldn't help notice the small army she'd brought along with her. There were ten men by her side, and that wasn't counting the ones she'd squirreled away in the hills.

She'd approached them on horseback, but once she'd gotten within speak distance, she'd dismounted, and walked the horse the rest of the way. She looked like a real frontierswoman. Right at home on Constance. She probably spent most of her time bossing around townsfolk who had no idea how a real planet was supposed to be run.

The woman continued. "My name is Matilda Johanssen. I'm Al Motta's contact here. I'm supposed to be taking charge of young Ms. Motta."

"Is that so?" Mercedes said, keeping her hands at her side, but not making any overt gestures. "Nice to meet you Ms. Johanssen."

Matilda squinted behind them to where Sugar was still sitting on the mule. She waved to Sugar who waved back. "What is she doing so far away? I thought this was a drop off?"

Her casual tone was so forced that Santana would have figured it was a trap by now, if she hadn't already.

Mercedes matched both the casual tone and the insincerity in her reply. "Oh, it is. It's just that Sugar has been with us for so long that we wanted to make sure that everything went real smooth. The Motta's have got enemies, you know."

Matilda smiled. "Oh, don't I know it."

There was a long silence and finally Santana spoke up.

"Lotta men for a drop off."

Matilda looked around as if she were just noticing her cohort. "Well, aint it just! You can't be too careful, is what I always say."

Another silence and Mercedes seemed to grow impatient. "If you want to hand over the credits now, that would be more than appreciated."

"Sure, sure." Matilda said, taking a few steps back towards her horse, and digging through the ruck sack. She pulled out a small bag, and tossed it to Mercedes who opened it.

Mercedes counted quickly in her head. "Well, isn't this something. This isn't even half of the money were were promised."

Matilda laughed evilly. "I'm sure it's all right, Captain. You won't need it where you're going anyway." She raised a hand to the sky, as if in a signal, but nothing happened.

Matilda frowned and raised her hand again, before turning sharply towards the hills. "What in the seven hells-?"

Suddenly shots rang out, but instead of Mercedes and Santana falling to the ground, three of Matilda's men were down in rapid succession.

All hell broke lose as everyone reached for their guns and ran for cover. Mercedes had two shots off and two more men down before their guns were fully out of their holsters, and Santana followed suit. She'd caught three more in the body, and went to aim for the last two. She was just letting off a volley when a round caught her full in the chest.

Santana slammed down into the ground hard and Sugar screamed her name from the Mule. Two more shots from Puck and it seemed the worst of it was over. In the meantime, Matilda was back on her horse, and headed away from the carnage. Mercedes took careful aim and nailed her horse from the distance. It whinnied as it hit the ground, collapsing on top of her.

Mercedes spared a glance at Santana as Sugar came crashing in beside where she lay on the ground. "You ok, Lopez?"

Santana wheezed a few times before opening her shirt, revealing the vest that was pounded in scattershot. "Yeah, um, I can't breathe at the moment, but I'll be ok."

"Gorramit, Santana. Why didn't you say you were wearing a vest?!" Sugar whined.

"Well, that would have given the whole thing away, wouldn't it?" Mercedes smiled, bringing the radio to her face. "Puck, how's it looking up there?"

A moment later the radio crackled back at her. "It's all good, 'Cedes, I'm heading back."

Mercedes approached where Matilda lay under her horse, struggling to get free. She tossed the money bag in her hands a few times. "Where's the rest of it, Johanssen?"

Matilda spat at her, but Mercedes only chuckled. "Why, there's no need for such unpleasantness."

She knelt down and poked around in the saddlebag, pulling out another small bag, this one about the same weight as the first.

"Now, this seems to be about right." She slid her gun back into the holster, and pointed a finger accusingly at Matilda. "What happened? You get cold feet?"

"Ha!" Matilda wheezed. "You wish. The Ben Israels were willing to pay top dollar for info about her. They still will."

"Hush." Mercedes tsked. "You may have gotten greedy, Johanssen, but now you're on the bad side of the Mottas. I hope whatever money you got was worth it. And from what I hear, Al Motta is not a very forgiving man."

Matilda's face seemed to pale even more as she thought about it.

"You listen to me, and you listen well. Might be that you make it out of this little scrape. Might be that you get a mind that you want to tell someone about our little escapade. But believe you me, I am not one to hold a grudge. I am not of that mind. Not one jot. All I know is, I do the job, and I get paid. Easy as you please. And as you can see…" She pointed to Sugar, who was helping Santana to her feet. "Sugar Motta made it to this rock. Whether or not she stays is another matter altogether, and frankly, none of my concern. It was my job to escort her, and escort her I did. Job done. And now, job paid."

Mercedes shook the bags a few more times for emphasis, and then tucked them inside her jacket. She walked back to where Santana and Sugar stood and smiled happily.

"I think that's worth a round or so next time we're on a respectable planet. My treat!" She clapped a hand on Santana's shoulder as she lead them back to the Mule.

Santana winced and tried not to groan. "Yeah, your treat."

"Oh come now, Lopez, this ain't even the first time getting shot. And half those time you didn't even have a vest on-"

Suddenly, Puck's voice was in their ears, and he sounded like he was at a dead sprint. "Captain, we gotta get back to the ship. Those Reavers we passed! They're headed this way."

There wasn't a moment to pause as Mercedes pushed Santana forwards, and grabbed Sugar's arm. They raced back towards the mule.

...

"I've been on this ship for almost three weeks. Didja know that Ms. Fabray?" Finn complained, dragging Quinn by the arm as she fought. Three weeks of gruel, three weeks of Puck mouth breathing everywhere and that blonde pilot's stupid jokes. Three weeks of you and the Captain doing whatever inane thing it is that you two are doing. Or not doing. Three weeks of that awful smell. What even is that?!"

Finn yanked her brusquely at this, and Quinn squeaked, trying her best not to give him the satisfaction of crying out.

"Three weeks of it, and you know what? I'm sick of it. I'm sick of it."

He lead her to the loading bay, and looked around frantically. "Where in the gorram hell did they- A ha!" His note of relief was pointed at his bag, which was leaning against a post by the stairs. He ruffled through it with one hand and pulled out his gun.

"I knew they didn't get rid of it. Now all we've gotta do is wait for the Captain to get back, and we're going to make sure Agent Hudson gets his payday. We're going to- yow!"

His monologue was broken off as Quinn sunk her teeth into his arm, causing the gun to clatter to the ground. He swung his hand across her face, cursing loudly. He'd only taken a few steps towards where the gun had fallen before there was another weight slamming into his back.

"You 龟儿子. Don't you ever in your life put your hands on her like that again." Mike shouted, as he sent his full force into Finn's back. The two of them toppled to the ground again, and this time Finn was the first to scramble to his feet.

"I'm going to put you down, Doc, and I'm not going to go easy this time." He took a swing at Mike, and caught him in the ear, sending him tumbling, but before he was even done falling Mike was grabbing at his ankles, pulling him towards the ground.

"Gorramit!"

Kurt rushed in and tried grabbing at Quinn, to pull her away, but she rushed at Finn again, trying her best to help Mike overwhelm him.

They both exchanged a few blows, but Finn caught Mike again in the jaw (not before taking a few well placed punches himself), and dove for the gun.

He pointed it at Mike, Kurt and Quinn, but grabbed Quinn and pulled her close, shaking her roughly. "You try that biting thing again, and I'm going to shoot your brother right between the eyes. Do you hear me?" He roared.

Suddenly Brittany's voice was all around them. "It's Reavers. They must have followed us. We're getting everyone from the drop, and we're making a run for it, strap yourselves in."

They all looked helplessly, and Kurt went as white as a ghost. "Finn, you can't do this. Not right now. Where are you going to go? Or are you going to wait on the Reavers to come and kill us where we stand? We can't-"

"Shut up! I just need to think for one gorram minute."

Behind them, the cargo bay doors began to open.

"Finn, this is it. Let her go, and we can deal with this when it's all over." Mike tried, putting a hand out to them both.

"I said shut up! You all think you're so smart. You think you can tell me what to do?! Well, I am a man of the law! I can-"

The doors opened fully, and the mule pulled into the cargo bay.

Finn barely had time to turn before two shots rang out and he collapsed in a heap. Quinn fell away, and Mike grabbed her, pulling her aside.

Mercedes holstered her gun, and jumped down, hitting a button beside the door. She made to hoist Finn's body up on her shoulder, but after a moment of struggle, Santana came to her aid. They managed to dump him right as the door was closing.

Mercedes hit another button on the comm. "We're in, Brittany. Let's get out of here."

Barely anyone had moved, but Mercedes clapped her hands a few times to break the spell. "You heard her folks, get strapped in. Kurt, I want you in the engine room, now. Puck go with him to help. The rest of you find a seat, and buckle yourselves in. Now."

Her tone said it all, and they all scrambled off into different directions to do what she'd asked. Mercedes, herself, took off towards the cockpit, with Santana on her heels.

"What have we got, Britt. Can we get out of here?"

Brittany had rolled up her sleeves, and was pulling mightily on the yoke. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and her brow was knit in concentration.

"I'm doing my best, Captain, but they're right on our tails."

They both took their seats and strapped in, Mercedes flipping a few switches on the console to bring up a view screen. The Reaver ship was only a click or so behind them, and gaining fast. The ship, which had looked menacing enough when it was barely a dot in the distance was now a full blown monstrosity. It was leaking radiation that they could see from the front half, and the back half looked near demolished. Bloodied flags and bones covered the outside in a macabre decoration.

Brittany took them through one canyon and another, trying to lose the other ship, but it was no use, with every turn the Reaver ship for closer and closer.

"They're 120 meters away." Santana said, cutting through the rumble of the ship.

"Can you shake 'em, Britt?"

Brittany's voice vibrated with the shaking of the yoke in her hands. "I'm trying. I'm going to try to hit atmo, but they're too close."

Mercedes thought for a moment, but nothing jumped out at her. "We've gotta do something, Britt."

"94 meters." Santana interrupted again.

Brittany nodded. "I know, Captain." She took on hand away from the controls, and flipped the switch that connected her with the engine room. "Kurt. We're going to need all the thruster power, please. I'm going for a Crazy Ivan."

There was no response for a moment, and Brittany spoke up again. "Kurt?"

"Yeah, Britt." Kurt's voice seemed unsure, but it came in stronger a moment later. "Yeah, Britt, give me one minute. And then give me the signal."

"77 meters, Brittany."

Brittany looked at the viewscreen that showed their pursuers. "You've got thirty seconds."

There was a burst of static as Kurt clicked off, and Mercedes didn't take her eyes off the viewer.

"A Crazy Ivan, huh?"

Brittany flipped a few switches. "Yup."

There was another moment of quiet.

"You think that'll work?"

A few more switches. "Yup."

"49 meters."

Mercedes tried to hide the dismay in her voice. "Their hooks can reach at 30 meters, Britt. We've gotta-"

"I know, Captain, I just need a another second longer." She flipped back on the radio. "Kurt? What have you got?"

"I need another second, Britt, we're almost there. No, not there, Puck, there! The thermal exhaust! Bypass it!"

"38 meters."

"We need it yesterday, Kurt." Mercedes said now, trying her best not to break her pilot's concentration.

"I'm going as fast- Puck, just get out of the way, lift here, on my mark."

"33 meters."

"Kurt…."

Proximity alarms started blaring all around them, and Brittany squeezed the controls are hard as she could.

Suddenly, Kurt's voice came through again. "Now, Britt, now!"

There was a loud pop coming from the engine room, and Brittany pulled hard on the yoke, careening them in a circle, and bringing them 180 degrees from the direction they had been facing. Santana did her best to keep her lunch down, but her stomach rose violently in her throat.

"I'm pulling it Kurt!" Brittany shouted, as she smashed a few more buttons.

With that Songbird howled, and shot them into atmo, and out into space. Santana looked closely at the display.

"You did it! There's no way they can follow us now."

They all breathed a sigh of relief, and Mercedes reached for the radio. "We're clear, everyone. You can relax. We've lost them."

Santana unbuckled and got unsteadily to her feet. "That was…"

"Pretty cool, huh?" Brittany said, waggling her eyebrows.

"Captain?" Santana said, reaching for Brittany's untied jumpsuit, and pulling one of the sleeves towards her.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to take the helm, please. I need this woman to tear my clothes off."

Mercedes only smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Work, work, work." laughed Brittany, as Santana dragged her out of the cockpit.

\

"What's the difference between a lobster with breast implants, and a dirty bus stop?"

Everyone was watching Brittany again, as she hammed it up to tell her joke. She and Mike had been going at it for the better part of the last half hour, and everyone seemed pretty entertained. Santana sat right beside her, as usual, but this time she didn't bother to hide the adoration in her eyes, or the hand she'd planted firmly in Brittany's lap.

"Oh, come on, Britt, there's no way-"

"If you'd rather give up now, Chang, we can make this easy on you."

"What?" Mike said, mock offended. "No way."

Rachel sat on the other side of him, looking no worse for wear, and the rest of their motley crew filled out the mess hall. Each wearing some bump or bruise from their most recent escapade. He'd done a good job patching them all up, and Mercedes was coming to think that it probably wasn't such a bad thing that he hadn't left him and his sister on Greenleaf.

She sat off to the side, watching them all as she usually did, just out of their line of sight, sipping a cup of what was called coffee, but she wasn't so sure. She wanted to be close enough to the bridge to go up there if things went wrong. But it had been more than a week since their little adventure, and they'd run into no more trouble yet.

"Penny for your thoughts, Captain." A voice purred beside her.

Mercedes didn't look. She was more than used to Quinn finding her in her more vulnerable moments. She offered a small smile.

"I was just thinking that it was mighty fortuitous that we have a doctor aboard."

"That it is."

"Are you sure you don't want to make Santana kiss you again before you tell us, Britt? I don't think she'd complain about that." Puck shouted above the din. Suddenly there was a yelp as he found himself flat on his back, with Santana's boot resting comfortably under his chin.

"What was that, Puckerman?"

"Sorry, nothing."

Quinn chuckled and turned back to Mercedes.

"So, I take it our offer to be resettled is off the table?"

"Only if you don't want it, it's up to you, Quinn."

"Oh, I dunno. I think I'll hang out here a bit longer. It's been an interesting trip so far. As long as you don't mind, Captain?"

Mercedes took another sip. "What's to mind?"

"Well, I dunno. Your ship is practically falling apart. Half of the crew have got bullets in them, the other half are beaten to a pulp."

"But, we're still flying, Fabray."

"It's not much, Captain."

"It's enough."

First things first: Thanks for staying with me through this whole thing. It took much longer than I anticipated, but it is what it is. I love writing Brittana fics, and I don't think I'll ever stop. I've got some one shots planned, so, look for that on the horizon. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

Nextly: Kitty's story doesn't wrap up as neatly as the main plot. One reason is because there's more to it than I felt like I could get into it. On a more superficial level, it's supposed to just give you some insight into why Mercedes is the way that she is. And the kind of events that would lead to Mercedes and Santana setting out onto the Songbird. I hope that that's a sufficient answer, and I'm sorry if it doesn't really answer all of your questions.

Thirdly: As this is a re-telling of the pilot of Serenity, think of this less as a standalone story, and more as the first episode of a series. It establishes the characters, their relationships and motivations. I hadn't really planned a lot more in this 'verse, but you can imagine the kind of shenanigans Captain Jones and the crew of the Songbird would get into. It's not to say I'll never write in it again, this will probably be the end for now.

One last thing: The answer to Brittany's last riddle (which I couldn't find a place for in the text) is: One is a busty crustacean, one is a crusty bus station. You're welcome.