Disclaimer and Notes: Written for the crossovers100 LiveJournal community challenge, prompt #89: "she." Firefly and Witchblade characters and concepts belong to their respective copyright holders; just playing in the sandbox, folks. Thanks to Rhiannon Shaw for the beta and to Nevada for the plot bunnies.

Special Delivery

By Raine Wynd ali@stormy-night.org

"Sara's coming."

Mal didn't bother to look at River; her voice out of a room a body thought was empty wasn't much of a surprise any more. "She trouble?"

River didn't answer right away. Mal waited patiently enough as he surveyed the bustling dock area from the cargo bay, and thought about how long it was supposed to be before the rest of the crew returned with the supplies he'd sent them to get. They'd had a good run, enough to get fuel and some food, but he didn't like staying any longer than it was necessary. They weren't that far out of Alliance space, but there were some things you couldn't get out in the outer planets, like the medical supplies Simon insisted on having, and the harder-to-find parts Kaylee needed to keep the ship going. It had been worth the risk to come to this resupply port, known as the last stopping point before the wild frontier.

"For Them. Joan of Arc's bracelet does not like the catacombs." River stood at Mal's right side and shook herself, as if what she'd seen wasn't pleasant. "Do you think Simon will be back soon?"

"He'd better be, if he wants a ride."

Then Mal saw the woman in white headed his way. His mind automatically catalogued her as a priestess of Madrigal, and then wondered what the hell a priestess of Madrigal was doing on this planet. He watched as a group of drunk shiphands took the all-too-predictable opportunity to dirty the pristine white robes she wore, shoving her down and making the usual lewd commentary about how they would love to show her a good time, better than her Goddess could. Just like all the other priestesses he'd ever seen, she cowered and said nothing, waiting until the group passed on until she could rise to her feet and dust herself off as best as she could.

She approached the ship cautiously, stopping a respectable distance away from where Mal and River stood. "Do you take on passengers?" she asked.

"How much is it worth to you?" Mal asked.

She smiled a tight-edged smile. "More than my Goddess would let me pay," she countered.

"Madrigal priestesses have no money. This ain't no charity ship. What's a Madrigal priestess doing out here?"

She chuckled, a surprisingly warm sound. "Just trying to find my way, as my Goddess sees fit." From inside her robes, she produced a small bag, and tossed it to Mal, who caught it before it could hit the ground. It felt heavy with coin, but he wasn't inclined to trust that it was, so he checked. He tried not to stagger with the amount contained in the bag, but it was more than enough to insure he'd take her almost anywhere she wanted. She didn't wait for his acknowledgement of the prepayment. "I'm looking for someone who'll take me to Pandora."

Mal looked up from the bag, warier than ever. "That's in Alliance space."

"Then get me as close as you dare."

"The Temple of Madrigal on Gylenhal's as far as I'll take you, Priestess, and even that's too close for a man of my taste. It's three days' journey from here."

"She needs to get in," River told him unhelpfully. "To Pandora. It's where it started."

"She's not going to on my ship," Mal shot back, then looked at River. Biting back a sigh, he realized River was committed to this route, that this was the "she" River had mentioned. "I thought you said she wasn't trouble."

"I'm not," the priestess said, having moved closer. She was damned quiet on her feet, and he didn't like how close she'd gotten.

Mal drew his gun on her. "I didn't say I was accepting your payment."

"Then do or don't," she said tiredly, shaking her head. "I'm not Alliance, if that's what you're thinking." Her robe fell down her arms slightly, revealing a jeweled bracelet on her left wrist. "I'm just making a delivery." She looked at River and her eyes narrowed for a moment. Instinctively, Mal braced for a fight. "They took my bloodline's DNA for research and ripped it apart, trying to find answers, didn't they?"

"The last bearer was Elaina Madrigal, who was crucified for heresy against the New Allied Order of Faith," River said, as if reciting from a book. "They killed her children. Laid them on slabs and played with the DNA until they conformed or died from the 'rehabilitation'."

The priestess shook her head. "Not all of them," she said with certainty. She turned to Mal. "To the Temple, then, please."

Just then, the rest of Serenity's crew arrived, supplies in tow. Mal waved them on up, and Zoe took charge of stowing everything, keeping Simon and Kaylee from asking questions. Jayne's eyes met Mal's.

"She coming, or what?" Jayne demanded. "Ain't got all day."

"She wants to go to Pandora."

"She paying?"

"If she is, we have to swing past that moon anyway," Kaylee pointed out as she hefted a supply locker onto the cargo bay.

Mal sighed. "You ain't no priestess," he told his new passenger.

She laughed. "No. But if we're going to go, we'd best get going soon."

Something in her expression reminded Mal of River when she started seeing things, and he went with his gut. "All right, let's load it up," he ordered his crew.

Three days later, they dropped off their not-priestess, who handed over her bracelet to the woman who waited for her at the dock, and then vanished into thin air. Mal and the rest of the crew chalked it up to yet another weird tale involving the Madrigal cult, then got the hell of out Alliance-controlled space.

Something about it nagged Mal, though, and on one of their resupply stops, he found someone who was wired into the network and paid him to do a little research. All that he could find, however, was a little snippet from a Temple publication proclaiming, "The Witchblade has returned." There was apparently some effort by the Alliance in downplaying the significance of the supposed mystical return of "the bracelet Joan of Arc once wore, the gauntlet worn by Elaine Madrigal", but somehow, Mal didn't think that little artifact was a good thing for the Alliance. The Alliance didn't like anything it hadn't manufactured, and old historical artifacts had all been collected and hidden away years ago or sanitized for public consumption.

Mal's instincts told him that whatever that bracelet was, and whoever his mysterious passenger had been, spelled trouble for whatever got in its way. The thought cheered him immensely.

finis 11.03.05 comments welcome

Home | About Raine | Contact

This is a fan site, and all work here is produced without the intention of profit; all characters not my own are the copyright of their respective holders.