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Zoe was cold. She no longer had her old blanket, because it smelled like Wash and that was unbearable. So it made sense that she was cold. A lot of things made sense lately. Zoe had always been one for quick, simple solutions and solid facts: things that made sense. But it had gotten to be more than that. When Wash got a giant stake in the gut, sense went out in the splinters that tore his dying flesh. So now, sense was a precious thing, to be coveted. Things like that didn’t happen when everything made sense. It didn’t occur to her that she was getting better. Not one to wallow in her grief (at least not outwardly), Zoe didn’t really pay attention to her emotions. She knew it hurt, like nothing had ever hurt before. She knew she would always have to deal with that pain. So the thought that it may ease over time did not cross her mind. She wasn’t interested in making the pain stop. She was interested in making sure it didn’t start again. Therefore, she threw all her energy into preparing to rescue River, who in all probability did not need rescuing. However, Mal would go, and if Mal went alone, he would get badly hurt. And that, naturally, would start a whole new wave of pain. Zoe, who felt that she had quite enough pain for the moment, thank you, was ready to do anything to keep that from happening. She was too loyal, after all, to consider the fact that it might be better for all if she just tried to keep Mal from going at all. But the truth was, she was getting better. And that was good. * * * * * River was almost there. She was on Persephone, her hair caught up and hidden in a black and red cap. Her pale face was smudged with shadows and shiny colors, makeup taken from a small shop run by a woman who was sleeping now, behind the broken glass of her display cabinet. Disguise, it was. Beautiful rainbows, like swashes of coins on a flat stone. Not the same. Big brown eyes ringed by unfamiliar kohl, lips painted brilliant red to curve as if she were a woman. Unrecognizable. She was looking for a man, one who she could hear calling her. He was on Persephone, at least for the time being. This man, she knew, would lead her to the Bad Man. He had a name, which she also knew, but it was bits and pieces compared to the big picture. The name would make him solid, make him real, and River was walking in a world where reality could bring her to her knees. She knew what she had to do. On the streets, River watched people pass her. Men, women, children, animals, they all passed by like sheep being herded, oblivious. Sometimes, she caught an eye or two, and heads turned. Her beauty, so young and fresh, was something River was unused to feeling the effects of. Now, though, hidden behind her shield of cap and makeup, she was free to smile and be a girl, even if it was just pretend. And it was all pretend. But dolly liked to play, didn’t she? Just games in the sun; harmless. “Miss? Miss, it’s almost time.” River turned her head, smile fading as she met the wild eyes of a little boy in silky clothing who stared at her with an earnest, almost desperate expression. “You know, don’t you? You see?” A woman ran over and grabbed the boy’s elbow, pulling him gently into the circle of her arms. “I’m sorry, Miss,” she said to River apologetically. “He’s a bit off in the head.” “I know,” River told the woman, twisting her index finger at her temple. “It’s all in here. Goodbye,” she continued, walking on. * Miss, it’s almost time. * *You know, don’t you? * River shook her head. It was all happening faster than she’d anticipated. Now, when she met strangers’ eyes, they walked faster instead of turning to look at her. Because it showed, of course. The smile on River’s face was strange now, her gliding steps like a dance to music no one else could hear. It was true. It was almost time. As she walked, River thought about the things that had become important to her. The people. Simon, of course. Sweet Simon. And Mal, her surrogate daddy. Kaylee, bubbly Kaylee who never said no. Inara of the soft eyes and aching heart, who held her so gently. Zoe, stoic, brave Zoe. Wash and Book, who were gone beyond recovering. And Jayne, who had been her rock those last few days. All these people, these pieces, made up a lovely whole that was her home. It was remarkable to River that she had a home. So many people, she knew, had homes. They took them for granted. Homes, however, were not to be taken lightly. Lives happened there, and lives ended there. People loved and raged and smiled and frowned and laughed and cried at home. They took their homes and made them parts of themselves, assimilating their essences and becoming one with their homes. Without home, hope had very little sustenance, and hope was the most dangerous thing to lose. So River felt truly blessed. Then, she thought of her dream. The night before, after the nightmare, she’d fallen back into a fitful doze and then! oh, then, it had come. DREAM SEQUENCE

Burning suns in a field of glory and she fights! Oh, the hard beauty of it! Roomful of men, women, guns, swords, all guarding the door. She spins in, hair flying, eyes flashing, long legs confidant in their black combat boots. Punch to the right, uppercut to the left, high kick behind her and head-butt to the one in front. Ah! The side! A knife, someone has a knife and it burns and it stings but it’s not important because she’s up and spinning, sending a vicious kick to the knife-bearer’s head. Down for the count! Someone’s up behind her, bringing something down on her back, but she ducks and swerves under, through the legs, sliding up and hands on either side of the head and SNAP! Two down! Jump over the sack of flesh, duck the bullets, swift double punch-punch-kick and another one’s down! Go, get to the door, oh, ouch, something bit her there but that’s not important either and she’s go, go, going! Jump, up in the air, split in the air, legs out to either side, sending two men into opposite walls. Catch the guns, whirl, fire in both directions all before landing! Run, run, RUN! Spin, duck, hit the FUCKING GROUND NOW!!! Blast, boom, crash, someone’s thrown a bomb. Fiery lights, oh-so-pretty, people running and screaming because they’re oh GOD they’re BURNING they’re BURNING RIGHT UP but no, that’s not important because she’s got to get to the door right NOW! Past the people, past the flesh-sacks, up and kick and through the door, running down the hall and it’s so dark and she can’t see but she can feel it, because who needs light, anyway? Another door at the end of the hall, and he’s through there, she knows it. She can taste it in her mouth now, hear it ringing all around her. Her fingernails are stinging and she looks down and she’s clawing the wall, nails digging into plaster because she’s SCARED RIGHT NOW. “Sweet girl, don’t fear it,” she hears. Give me something, she thinks. Give me something I can see. It’s not real, it’s never real, and she hates it! “Don’t fear the darkness. You don’t fear it when you’re awake, so don’t fear it now.” She doesn’t fear it when she’s awake because she’s crazy when she’s awake, where have you been? “Go, go, go, go, go!” “It’s not going away, River, it’s never going to go away! You’re in it now, and it’s going to eat you up! Eat you up! EAT YOU RIGHT THE HELL UP!” She explodes, punching the wall. Her fist bleeds, but the wall bleeds too, bleeds plaster and paint flakes. Peace. Have peace. Must find peace. Running, running again, and sunlight! Wham! Grass, spinning, ladybugs in the air. Butterflies. Pretty sun, gleaming water, blue sky. A warm voice in her ear, hands pulling her close for a hug. Safety. It’s all safe. She’s happy here. Blackbirds in the fields. Fields? Fields of glory. She’s going to go out like a star.

END SEQUENCE * * * *

Jayne felt like he had never been quite this tired. He wanted to sleep, he really did, but it was so gorram hard! He hated this. She was out there, and he couldn’t do a thing to help her. He wasn’t sure which he hated more: that his girl was in danger or that she was his girl at all. He wasn’t made for this kind of love. He knew it, knew it as well as he knew his own hand. But here it was, thrust upon him. “Gorram girl. Foolish, crazy, stupid… perfect girl.” There it was again. “Hell, can’t even insult her now? What am I, some… aw, shit.” He saw, in his mind, Inara coming in and telling Mal off. He heard himself tell the Captain, ‘whipped’. Never did think it would apply to him too. Damn.