Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own any of these wonderful characters, or even the setting and world of Firefly. They all belong to Fox/Universal and Joss Whedon.

James Norrington and related belongs to Disney, Gore and Ted and Terry.

Setting: Takes place right after Down the Aisle

Pairings: Kaylee/Simon, Mal/Inara

Can’t Stop the Music

Chapter 18: Calypso

-

Cyn needed to find someone, anyone who might know where the hologram had come from. She had to see him in the flesh, embrace him, and apologize for not rescuing him sooner. It was Apollo, her brother. That was what she knew for certain, even though she hadn’t seen him in nearly eight years, she knew it was him, and not just by the name alone. She could tell by his eyes.

“Cyn,” Alfie had run after her. “Where are you going?”

“To find Apollo,” she answered as if he had asked one of the stupidest questions in the universe.

“You don’t know where he is,” Alfie tried to grab her hand and missed.

“I know he is here. He is somewhere on Beaumonde,” she felt he was close. He was near her and she still didn’t know where he was.

“You don’t know that for certain. He could be on any planet in the ‘verse. You can’t just run around like a chicken with your head cut off trying to find him.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she felt her eyes burn from the forming tears.

“What are you, eight years old?” Alfie raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t tell me what I can God damn do,” her hands wanted to ball up into fists and she felt like she was squeezing the air in her grasp. “You were not there. You have never seen people you care about killed in front of you. You were not pulled from your family. You haven’t been trying to spend years trying to find them, see people laugh because they didn’t believe you, even after showing them this.” She slid back the multi color collection of bracelets covering her scar. So don’t tell me what to do.” Burning tears traveled down her cheeks, most likely ruining her eyeliner, but she didn’t care.

“Don’t act like I don’t care,” Alfie grabbed onto her wrists. “I was there from the beginning. When we met on that shopping bazaar on Muir, it was my idea to play together even though I was eyeballs up on ash and booze. You got me to stop taking the ash and I was with you when we shared those seedy motel rooms. I watched over you while you kept having those nightmares and you woke up screaming. I was one of the first to believe you. I will never know what kind of terrors you have gone through and I do not know how you possibly feel, but believe me when I say there is another way to find Apollo. We can speak with the folk running the projectors, we will find out where that signal came from and we will go there.”

“Gorram it,” Cyn’s whole body shook. The tears were flooding down the sides of her face.

“You are still pretty hysterical.”

“Cyn,” Amistance had caught up with them. “Someone just received a call from a bar called the Hyperion. One of the bartenders had said he had seen Apollo there.”

“Where,” Cyn croaked. “Where is it?”

“They said is down the road,” Amistance explained. “Not quite across the street, but in the general direction.”

“I have to go there,” she wrenched her hands free from Alfie’s grasp and ran.

-

Mal stared at the back of his hand. He could not see the mark the bouncer at the door had placed when he and the others had first arrived at the Hyperion. He could no longer really feel it either. He knew it was there because the bored kid had nearly slapped the stamp down on his hand.

“Lemme see your hand,” the bounder held a large silver pen shaped object.

“I can assure you we have all received the stamps,” Mal held out his hand.

“Yeah, whatever,” The bouncer held the pen over Mal’s hand and shone a small beam of indigo colored light. The bright pink image of the Hyperion’s logo appeared on Mal’s skin. “You can enter, next.”

“Black light ink,” Mal explained when James had his hand examined. “After it dries it is pretty much invisible until it is underneath black light.”

“How did one come up with such an idea?” James asked after the bouncer had nodded at him. “And what is the purpose? Wouldn’t using a visible ink work just as well?”

“Yeah it would,” Mal shrugged. “Kids seem to love it. I heard it does have some purposes, they use it to make sure certain forms of currency aint fake, investigators use it to help solve murder cases.”

“Find the remains of blood,” River explained. “To see where it had splattered and stained, mostly it is for fun, but it does have uses.”

Mal didn’t respond. He sought out the rest of his crew and found them exactly where he had left them. Jayne still had the same ladies hanging off his arms. “Everything is the same as we left it.”

“Cap’n,” Kaylee waved over to them when she had spotted them. “Everyone is still talking about it.”

“The contest,” Mal had thought it was what she was referring to and then he saw the circular projector. “So it had played here.”

“They know him,” River said and glanced over to Apollo. Nearly everyone in the room was staring at the boy. “They know his pain and want to help, want to see the reunion.”

“Hey kid,” one of the bartenders leaned over the edge of the bar. “I have already contacted the contest officials. They are letting your sister know-“

“You can’t go in there,” the bouncer’s voice cried out from the entrance. “Security.”

“I’ll pay,” a familiar voice said. It had belonged to a man and Mal had a funny feeling it had belonged to one member of Cyn’s band.

Cynthia Driscoll raced into the bar, her eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by goopy mixtures of silvers and blacks. Her cheeks were red and her nostrils were pink. Her breaths were rapid and she clutched her side.

“It’s her,” several voices gasped at once, some mentioned her by name; others mentioned the name of her band. No one dared to speak out loud, nor did they approach her.

“Cynthia?” Apollo’s voice trembled. He took a few steps toward her. “Cynthia it is me.”

“Apollo,” Cyn stood up. “You are real.”

“Cinthy-rella,” Apollo raced towards her, arms wide open.

“Apple Hole,” Cyn smiled while they embraced. The smile did not last long before she broke down into more tears. “I’m sorry.”

A few of the patrons had actually applauded the display, several of the folk, mostly women, had wiped away few tears of their own. Everyone was smiling. Mal felt a hand take his and he glanced to his side to see Inara smiling at him before she nodded towards River and James. The girl had taken the commodore’s hand and he in turn he had grabbed back.

“Don’t be,” Apollo had shed a few tears of his own. “You tried.”

“Not hard enough.”

“Don’t say that,” Inara told them. “You have done everything you could within your own power. You told everyone you can. It wasn’t your fault they refused to listen. You knew they would listen to your song.”

“Go Shi,” Alfie sighed when he had entered. “I missed it.”

“We both did,” Amistance had followed in after him. “But who cares if we did. They are still holding onto each other.”

“Sally is still out there,” Apollo said softly. “I haven’t seen her in nearly five years. I don’t know where she is. She might be with the badcoats; she might be with another slaver, or another owner. I don’t know. I’m sorry; I should have fought harder to keep from being separated.”

“Don’t blame yourself son,” Mal said. “We are going to be looking for your sis, and I gotta pretty strong feeling that everyone on Beaumonde will also be looking for her and the others now.”

“Captain Reynolds?” Cyn stared up at him, and didn’t release her hold of her brother. “You found him?”

“I came across him while in the middle of a job,” Mal explained. He didn’t want to exactly say what that job was and not because of how Cyn might take it, he was just disappointed with himself for taking that particular job. “The commodore recognized him and spent a good chunk of his own change for his freedom.”

Cyn allowed her arms to relax. “James did this?” She stared at the former commodore in admiration.

“I put a few clues together,” James explained. He nodded towards Amistance. “And after what Miss Woolong told me I just couldn’t allow such an injustice to continue.”

“Amistance, you told him?” Cyn raised her eyebrows at her keyboardist. She looked stern, but only for a second before she smiled. “Thank you.”

“I only told him because he told me his secret,” Amistance tried to explain before she blinked. “Wait a sec, you’re not ticked?”

“How can I be ticked?” Cyn embraced her brother once more.

“That does remind me,” Mal turned to James. How many times did he explain to the 18^th century man not to tell anyone where he was actually from on accounts of people thinking he is crazy and no one would want to do business with them? “I believe our commodore inspired your band’s name?”

“I will admit we did share information.”

“It technically is the least we can do to thank you,” Amistance said.

“It was our third-“ Alfie started until he was elbowed in the gut by the keyboardist.

“Sir,” Zoë tapped Mal’s shoulder. “What is our next move?”

“Our next move is the same as everyone’s,” Mal remembered what River had told him about everyone wanting to help. “Everyone,” Mal raised his voice until he was certain everyone could hear. “For all of you who are still sober,” he stared in disgust at Jayne and the women who were so stewed they had to lean on his mercenary for support. “There is something you can do to help. I need you to send waves to your folks, families, friends, people you work with, your own doctors and dentists, and neighbors. Let them know what has happened. They may know someone who works in the slaver industry, or owns slaves. Ask them to see if any of their slaves are missing a tongue and those who are teens and young adults. We are going to find a more powerful tower, spread this particular signal out as far as we can.” He raised the disc containing the holographic recording.

“Who is with us?” Jayne raised a fist.

“We are with you, Jayne.” One of his fangirls slurred before she nearly stumbled forward.

The rest of the patrons nodded, a few voiced their responses. There were even a few who clapped.

“You kids are going to be okay?” Mal pointed at the Driscoll siblings.

“We won’t be until we are with Sally,” Apollo said.

“I am working on it,” Mal promised. “I mean you are going to be fine right now. Apollo doesn’t need us any further?” He heard a small chime like sound coming from his chest

“We will take care of him,” Alfie promised.

The chime was heard again and it took Mal only a second to realize it was coming from his transmitter, “Hello?” He spoke into it. He had both Kaylee and River rig it up so that he could receive vocal waves on his transmitter.

“Captain Reynolds?” A honeyed and matronly voice greeted him.

“This is Captain Reynolds,” Mal said. “Belle, I mean Mrs. Obrin?”

“Now you know better than to greet me as Mrs.” Belle Obrin said.

“I am sorry Widow Obrin,” He was not one to judge what the wife of his former colonel prefers to be called.

“I need you to swing around my place. I have some news for you.”

“We will be on our way.”

-

Captain Reynolds had promised the trip would have been short and he was right, it did take less than 30 hours to reach the habitable moon by the name of Ita. The Captain explained they were going to visit a woman who was the widow of Colonel Obrin.

“Was he a skilled man?” James had asked when Serenity had reached the atmosphere.

“He was a military genius,” Malcolm said. “The one thing he did better than keeping that ole lip ferret of his well groomed was his planning the ole surprise attack. We captured several Alliance platoons thanks to his strategic mind.” Mal tapped the side of his head.

“What is Mrs. Obrin like?”

“Nuh-uh,” Mal wagged a finger at him. “She prefers to be called Widow Obrin.” He shrugged. “I can’t quite explain it myself, just one of her peculiar traits.”

James had not to think to ask again, and knew to respect the widow’s wishes. He had nearly thought of dressing up in his old uniform, out of instinct, but he kept his waistcoat and breeches hung up on the plastic hook. His fingers graced the curls of his wig, tempted to place it on his head, but there was no need for even he to wear it. He did decide to dress in the trousers made of cotton and the silk black shirt, his blue naval coat as always and the last item he placed on his head, was his black tricorn, trimmed in white feathery fringe.

Malcolm did not say anything when James approached the airlock and waited for the docking platform to lower, he did receive and arched eyebrow from his captain, a few brief glances from the others and derisive chuckle and snort from Cobb.

They had landed in front of what appeared to have been a mansion, opulent in nature that included a few castle like turrets. The building was painted in a cream shade while the roof had a rich honey gold tone to it.

The Captain knocked on the door. “The Widow Obrin is expecting us,” he said to the short butler.

“She is waiting for you in her sun room,” the butler motioned for them to follow him.

“She has excellent taste,” Inara raised her eyebrows.

“Her lifestyle is something you can relate too,” Malcolm told her. “I think the doc, his sis, and the commodore are also used to places like this.”

James had glanced at the walls and furniture as they walked past, most of it was in a style he hadn’t recognized, but it did have a touch of elegance, and beauty, furniture he would love to have if he did have an actual planet bound dwelling.

“Captain Reynolds,” a warm and soft voice greeted them when they had stepped into a room that was mostly windows. “It has been a while.”

“It has been a bit too long,” Malcolm nodded at her.

“Still can remember when you were promoted,” Widow Obrin was an older, but not elderly woman. There were noticeable streaks of silver and white woven through her sand colored hair which she kept piled up on top of her head. She wore a lavender blouse with matching trousers, what she wore over was a crimson robe, covered in black and gold snake like dragons. In one hand she held onto a long copper hued cigarette holder.

“It wasn’t really memorable,” Malcolm had removed his hands from his belt and shoved them into his pockets. “Not enough pomp and celebration.”

“There is more to your crew than the last time we met,” the Widow stood up. “We have met have we?” She pointed to Inara with a well manicured finger.

“No we haven’t,” Inara shook her head. “I was with a client.”

“By your beauty and posture I can tell you are Miss Inara Serra. Both Malcolm and Kaylee have told me all about you.”

“They have?” Inara looked a bit worried.

“Don’t you worry your head. They have painted you in a favorable light,” her honeyed words and accent reminded James of film he had seen on the cortex, about a civil war and a family of high society living in the former Georgia colony. “And who is this?” She smiled warmly at James.

“My name is James Norrington,” James removed his hat and held it over his chest.

“When did you start working for Malcolm?”

“A few months ago,” James explained. He hadn’t been tracking the time.

“I do love your voice, even if it didn’t have the accent it would be lovely.” She motioned them over to the padded chairs. “Please take a seat.”

“Something smells good,” Cobb commented as they sat down. “What is under the dishes?”

James stared at the silver cover dishes as he sat down, along with the large pot. “Have you prepared tea?”

“Not tea, dear boy. I have coffee prepared when Malcolm sent the wave.” She removed one lid to reveal several small cakes. “I had cinnamon cakes baked for everyone.” She removed the other cover revealing slices of fruit and cheese. “Pears and white cheddar.”

“We appreciate your hospitality,” Inara said.

“Greatly,” Kaylee smiled at the treats.

“I do not know how y’all take your coffees.”

“We will serve ourselves,” Malcolm said as he poured one cup.

“Katy Chalmers contacted me not long ago,” the widow continued. “How many of the others have you spoken with recently? Did you come across that terrible trio? I heard my Clay had thought they were the ones responsible for removing his mustache.”

Malcolm shook his head. “I haven’t seen those three in a long time.” He handed the cup to Inara and poured a second cup. Kaylee had already helped herself to one of the cakes and Cobb had grabbed a handful of pears and cheeses. “You said you have some information for me.”

“I do,” the widow nodded. “I learned it from one of my friends at the poetry house. One of her slaves was missing a tongue and she asked him to write down what had happened. He wrote down the same story I received from Katy, who received it from you.”

“Where did you friend purchase this slave?” James asked. He stared down when a warm cup was handed to him, not by Malcolm, but by River.

“Some folk who are living on Rochester. The man told her that many of them wore the uniform of our soldiers, but I do not believe any of our boys and girls would do such a thing.”

“They haven’t,” Malcolm said. “As I have said before, they are not ours.”

James stared at the dark liquid in his cup waiting for it to too cool. He knew they wouldn’t leave for a while, but he did know their next move was to fly to Rochester.

-