A/N: I've posted this once before, but modified it a great deal so it could fit in this story. Hope it works well. I still am unsure how this story will progress, but a plot is slowly forming.

"I can take the sky from you, Captain Reynolds." Commander Brighton eyed him from across the table. "Your precious ship: I can dust it. Your loyal crew: imprisoned, exiled, executed. I can tear you limb from limb. So I suggest you help us out. Help me get what I want."

Mal eyed Brighton right back; said nothing.

Brighton tilted his head slightly. "Nothing, Captain? Nothing at all you want to say to me?"

"The things I want to say, you wouldn't be so keen on." Mal stated bluntly.

An evil glint lit the Commander's eyes. "You are going down. You will break."

"We'll see." Mal said; rose; walked away. It would have been more dramatic perhaps if he could have slammed a door, but he couldn't. A guard took his bound arm and led him from the room.

"You are nothing, Captain Reynolds." Brighton called after him.

"Apparently, I'm important." Mal told the guard jovially.

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"You realize that your Captain is doing nothing to help your situation." Brighton's statement was also a question. Zoe's eyebrows went up with the inflection, but she remained stoically silent. "He will do nothing to save you. To save your husband. Why do you think?" Zoe just shrugged subtly. "Does he even care?"

"I don't," Zoe finally interjected, "care." She did not speak for the rest of the session. The Commander asked, suggested, stated, and threatened, but got nothing in return. Finally he sent her away.

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Wash sat in his cell. It was not really a cell, just a plain white room with a door and a chair. He sat upon the chair, head in his hands. How had it come to this? What had gone wrong?

He knew that it wasn't his fault, but for lack of anyone else to blame he went ahead and felt guilty. He could have at least tried to outrun them. Serenity could hold up under stout fire. She was fast. But he hadn't even tried. Hadn't even suggested running.

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Kaylee sobbed quietly in a corner of the imposing room. She had avoided the chair in favor of the polished floor. She sat with her back against the cold white wall.

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They didn't question him. They left him in his holding cell for hours on end. He could tell by their eyes that they knew. And they were afraid.

So he sat serenely in the white room, hands folded on his lap. He bowed his head and prayed for his obviously frightened and confused crewmates.

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"I ain't tellin' you a gorram thing! Hell, I don't even know a gorram thing." Jayne leaned forward, staring intently at Commander Brighton. The guards eased closer.

"Fair enough." Brighton reclined. "I don't need anything from you."

Jayne leaned back again, confused. His brow wrinkled. "Then why?"

"Because." Brighton's lip curved into a semblance of a smile.

When so few things unnerved Jayne, that answer did. His face grew noticeably pallid as Brighton's sneer grew bigger.