Hey all, sorry this took so long to get out. I got sick of waiting for my beta. I apologize for the over abundance (opposed to my regular abundance) of spelling and grammar mistakes.

Chapter 6 It occurred to Simon, as if by divine revelation, that it was dark out. It also occurred to him that he didn't care. Cold and wet and now dark, none of it mattered. He’d felt earlier that the planet was tilting towards the sun, being sucked in. But now that he was alone, and had been alone for a good long while, he felt as if the planet was being repelled away from the sun. Pushed so far away that light wasn’t going to reach the small world ever again. His small world would be forever dark. He was sitting on the bank of the small stream. About two dozen yards south, to his right, was the spot where River had cut herself. He didn’t turn his head to his right. Another fifty yards north was the small path that led up to the Frye backyard and the house. There was light in that house, and warmth, and dryness. He didn’t turn his head to the left. He just stared ahead, looking into the darkness of the forest. A part of him wanted to get lost in it, a part of him was afraid to, but most of him was to cold and stiff and morose to move. It wasn’t that he was lost in his thoughts, because he wasn’t thinking anything. He was just so tired, and he just hurt so much. He was a doctor, his stock and trade was finding pain and then finding a way to eliminate it. But this pain was elusive; it hurt more at every prodding. The doctor was almost tempted to fish in the stream and find a nice sharp rock and create a wound he could heal, just to reassure himself that such things existed. But it was getting darker, and he could no longer really see the stream. “Simon!” For a very brief moment the boy’s imagination produced the image of a seductive dryad, a siren, with a sharp rock in her cold and slender hand calling his name. Then he realized it was Kaylee. “Simon!” Suddenly, he needed to see her. The cold dark wetness that had been so comforting had become terrifying. He was in a strange wood where the streams seduced you and rocks attacked you. “Kaylee,” he said. His voice was soft and scratchy from lack of use. He doubted she heard him. “Simon!” the girl called again, she was getting closer. “Ya out here?” “Kaylee!” he tried again, with better results. He tried to stand but before he was truly up, his muscles twisted themselves into cramps and he fell back onto the cold ground with a sharp yelp of pain. “Simon!” Kaylee said again, this time less becoming and more worried. Soon he was blinded in the intolerably bright beam of a flashlight and he could hear her light step running through the undergrowth. Before his eyes had adjusted to the light, he felt her hand on his shoulder and the sound of her breathing close to his ear. “Oh, Simon,” she said, sniffling a little. “You ok? You ain’t hurt or nothin’ are ya?” “I’m fine, Kaylee,” he said, reaching out and pushing the flashlight down so it wasn’t pointed directly at him. “I just . . .” “Ya fell,” Kaylee said quickly. Her voice was almost panicked. “I saw. Can you stand?” “I’ve been sitting here too long,” Simon explained. “My leg got a cramp.” “I can go get the Captain,” Kalyee said, moving to stand up and run to the house. “Or Jayne, they could –” “Kaylee,” Simon said quickly, reaching out and grabbing her arm. “No, I’ll be fine. Just, could you help me?” “Sure,” the girl said, nodding. “What you want me to do?” “Let me put my arm over your shoulder,” Simon said, reaching out and maneuvering her so she was kneeling down right next to him. “Now, I’m going to try to stand and you stand with me. I’ll probably lean on you, so be sure to lift yourself up with your legs, not your back. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” “‘Kay,” Kaylee said, switching the flashlight to her left hand so she could wrap her right hand around Simon’s waist as he put his left arm over her shoulder. “Just tell me when you’re ready.” “All right,” Simon said, taking a deep breath. “Now.” Kaylee stood up and more or less pulled Simon with her. “You okay?” she asked, once she felt him depending more on his own strength to stand and leaning on her a little less. “Fine,” he said, although his voice was thin and tense. “Now, if we could just walk a little.” “We should get you someplace warm,” Kaylee said wisely. “It’s sitting out here in the cold that’s done it.” “I know,” Simon said, struggling to keep his feet under him as both legs screamed in pain. “But if I keep walking they’ll go away.” “Really?” Kaylee asked lightly, as if they were sitting in Serenity’s common room shooting the breeze and not trudging through the forest in the rain. Simon marveled at how she made hard things feel easy. “’Cause, ya see,” she continued. “My uncle Markie said that the only way ta get rid of a cramp was ta sleep with your shoes under the bed, but his wife Leslie she swears up and down that pickle juice is the only thing ta use.” “Pickle juice?” Simon asked. “Um-hum,” Kaylee nodded. “Does she rub it on the inflamed area or drink it?” “Either way it’s gross,” Kaylee said. “I never tried neither.” “I don’t blame you.” The conversation ended there. They walked for a while in silence before Kaylee shifted towards their left. “We’re here,” she said. “Here?” Simon asked. “Just gotta climb this hill,” Kaylee said, pointing her flashlight to a rise in the undergrowth which, Simon supposed, must have looked like a path to her. “Then we’re home.” “Home,” he said. All the foreboding he felt about being in a warm place where people were happy and laughing must have, somehow, worked its way into his voice because Kaylee turned and looked at him compassionately, and said, “You don’t wanna go in, do you?” “I,” he stuttered, surprised by her insight. “I, ah . . . I don’t . . . I certainly wouldn’t . . .” “Simon,” Kaylee interrupted. Her voice was serious and caring and pleading him to be honest. “Why were you out here? In the cold?” “I didn’t want to be warm,” he admitted, a little surprised at his answer. “I don’t think . . . I mean, I can’t . . . I feel cold, no matter where I am. I feel frozen.” He glanced down at her. In the dimness, she looked even softer than usual and he couldn’t see the irises in her eyes. As he stared into them, words he’d had no intention of saying seemed to flow out of his mouth, he barely knew he was speaking and he wouldn’t have been able to stop, even if he had. “When I left everything, left the first time, I didn’t really, I didn’t realize how it was . . . how permanent it was. I knew, maybe, I can’t . . . I’m not sure I’m remembering clearly. But my last day of work, I didn’t sit and think, ‘this is the last chart I’ll ever read’ or ‘this is the last time I’ll talk to a patient’ or ‘this is the last time I’ll close my locker.’ None of that . . . I didn’t have time, I-- I didn’t know to think that way. “But today was the last time I’ll ever see my parents. It was the last time I’ll ever see my godfather. Any hopes I had far fetched and fantastic as they were, of going back . . . they were crushed. Last time I didn’t, I didn’t really turn away from anything, I was . . . it was about River. This time it wasn’t. I wasn’t swept up in events that I didn’t understand. I wasn’t propelled by brotherly devotion. I wasn’t ignorant or helpless. I made a choice. I chose this life over them. I said goodbye, and I meant it.” Kaylee blinked, breaking the spell a little, and looked down. Simon took a shaky breath and turned away. “I’m sorry,” he said after a minute. “I didn’t mean to tell you all that.” “No,” Kaylee sniffled. “No, it’s ok.” She gasped for breath and reached up to wipe her eyes with the back of her right hand, sending the flashlight’s beam wildly off into the treetops above them. “You’re crying,” Simon observed, a little surprised. “It’s sad,” Kaylee defended. She turned to look at him and forced a smile despite her tears. “Can’t help but cry a little.” Simon smiled down at her. “You are incredibly sweet.” Even in the darkness, he could see her blush. There was something about this planet, he concluded, something that made her cheeks look rosier and her eyes brighter and her hair softer and her lips more inviting. He’d always thought she was pretty but it seemed that every time he saw her she became prettier and prettier. On Osiris, he was used to beautiful girls who would spend hours on their hair and makeup, and brilliant girls who demanded attention by being better and smarter, but he hadn’t had much interactions with girls like Kaylee who were just pretty and smart. Everything about her, not just the way she looked, but the way she talked and giggled, the words she used and the jokes she told and the way her eyes turned into slits when she laughed and the way she’d chew on her lower lip if she did something wrong, seemed different, seemed better. The more Simon was with her, the more distasteful he found the overindulgences of the beautiful or brilliant women he was so used to. They tried so hard to be something special when Kaylee was everything special without even trying. Without thinking, Simon reached out and cupped her chin with his right hand. Her fathomless eyes seemed to smile up at him through her tears. He leaned forward and his rough, chapped lips brushed against her supple, delicate ones and he could taste her breath, heavy with the aroma of peach pie. Simon pulled away, for a second, a motion that brought reality crashing down on him. He was a cold person, a hard person, a gray and dreary person. She was warm, soft, colorful and full of light and life. He needed her to melt away all his frozen parts, to smooth out his sharp edges, to bring light and laughter into him. She was everything he wasn’t and he wanted her to seep into him and change him so that he could be everything he wasn’t too. He leaned forward again, and this time their lips met more unfalteringly, more passionately. He felt like Kay in ‘The Snow Queen’; his Greda had come and the splinter of glass perverting his vision was washed away and each kiss brought more warmth, more color, more life until he was thawed enough to be his own man. Simon closed his eyes, savoring ever second they touched. So when she pulled away, he was more then let down, he felt like he’d been dropped. H looked down and turned away, not bothering to open his eyes. “I’m . . . I didn’t mean—” “Simon,” Kaylee interrupted him, reaching over and pulling his face towards her. He didn’t resist and found himself once more staring into her enchanting eyes. “It’s all right,” she assured him. “Let’s go someplace warmer and drier.” “I’ll follow you,” he promised. She smiled at him, biting on her lower lip and scrunching her nose into an adorable accumulation of wrinkles. Her hand slipped off from around his waist and found his hand. As she started pulling him up the hill, into her yard, Simon didn’t worry that she would force him into the bright house where the party was just beginning to die down, nor did he notice that the cramp in his leg was still screaming in pain. All he cared to notice was the loving tugs she continued to give his hand and all he could think of was the lingering taste of peach pie in his mouth. * * * It was late, well past supper time, but supper had been missed on account of no one seeming the least inclined to eat. Genie had disappeared, most likely into the solitary depths of her closet, leaving her grandfather feeling very much alone. He sorely wanted to go into his office, lock the door, and lose his sorrows in a bottle of scotch, but he knew that wouldn’t help matters any. So instead he went, with squared shoulders and a set jaw, to the guest wing where Gabriel and Regan were packing, preparing to go back to Osiris. “Come in,” Gabriel barked after Comworth had knocked on the door. He didn’t sound like he wanted company. Still, the governor pushed open the door and walked into the suite’s sitting room. Gabriel was slouched in an arm chair, staring into the crackling fire in the room’s hearth, a decanter of brandy and a half empty glass in his hand. "Where's Regan?" he asked from the door. "Crying in the bathroom," Gabriel grunted. “It's probably the only thing she'll do for the next month. That's what she did when Simon left before." “It’s for the best, you know.” The governor said, walking over to the liquor cabinet and getting a brandy glass for himself. “Of all the places they could be . . .” “What happened?” Gabriel said. He sounded dazed and only slightly drunk. “They found a safe place,” Comworth said, easing himself down in a chair beside his old friend and helping himself to the deep red and highly alcoholic beverage. “We did everything right,” Gabriel said. “We loved them so much. I . . . I only ever wanted them to be happy.” “I know,” Comworth said. “The Secretary of Education said it was the best school for a child like River, that she would blossom there.” “I know.” “Simon loved his work. He--he really did.” “I know.” “We weren’t bad parents,” Gabriel said. “If I had really thought for a minute that . . .” “You were good parents,” Comworth assured his friend. “You loved your children.” “Why didn’t I believe Simon?” his father said. “This could have been over. We could have pulled her out of the school. He could be a successful doctor, she could have . . .” “It’s not you fault,” Comworth said. “What kind of father assumes his son is crazy?” Gabriel said, turning away from the fire towards his friend for the first time. He was ghostly pale and his eyes were red. “The kind that trusts his government,” Comworth said. “Until Dr. Westland showed us those scans, I didn’t really believe the boy myself.” “But you treated him a hell of a lot better than I,” Gabriel said bitterly. “My son, my only son, and the last memories he has of me are of me angry, distrustful, condemning.” “He knows you love him,” Comworth said. “If he didn’t, do you think it would have pained him so much to leave?” “And River, damn it,” Gabirel continued. “I didn’t love her enough to come for her. I get hardly a word, nothing but official reports and I don’t worry, don’t wonder. What kind of father am I?” “You were doing the best you could.” “The best I could,” Gabriel spat. “The best I could do was send my daughter to get her brain cut on, and abandon my son so he had to give up everything just to save her. That was my best. With that kind of record I’m a shoe-in for father of the year.” “Gabriel, stop blaming yourself,” Comworth pleaded. “You couldn’t have known.” “Simon knew,” Gabriel said. “He knew, he told me and I didn’t listen.” There was nothing Comworth could think to say to that, so he stayed silent. “Damn it!” Gabriel spat, when the silence became too heavy. “I wanted to give them everything. They were, they are, so incredible. I don’t think they ever understood. I mean, they knew they were smart. But I’d bet not one doctor in the whole city was as dedicated to his patients as Simon. He’d come home and that’s all he’d talk about. He was single-minded, relentless. Every procedure was done perfectly. He said that these were peoples’ lives he worked with, anything less than perfection was an insult to humanity.” Comworth smiled, "That's from the speech he gave at medacad commencement." "He believed it. How many doctors care about their patients like that, how many of them see their patients as humans? Gei ji ren zhi ren dao. " “Simon was an amazing doctor,” Comworth said with a sigh. “You know he volunteered to work the late shift because that’s when people got the poorest care. He . . . he liked the social prestige, he liked the money, but he didn’t really care about it. How many damn doctors can that be said of?” “Not many,” Comworth admitted. “And River,” Gabriel continued. “How could anyone like her understand what she was? There’s no precedent for her, but she couldn’t help but think she was normal. Everyone thinks what they are is normal; everyone assumes that what they do is good and right and what any rational person would do. “I assumed I was a good parent. I assumed that my wonderful children were my reward for being such a wonderful parent.” “That’s not how it works,” Comworth said levelly, although the brandy was starting to make him feel a little warm and less bereaved. “Life sometimes . . .” “I don’t have children anymore,” Gabriel said. “They left. I drove them away. That’s my punishment.” “You can’t think that way, Gabriel,” Comowrh said a little more insistently. “I drove away Regan’s children,” Gabriel said, his voice wavering mournfully. “She was such a good mother. They adored her. River would follow her around, mimic everything she did. Simon was so dedicated to her; he would have done anything for her. You know, when he was eight he planted a garden just so he could give her flowers.” “I know.” “It went horribly. He didn’t like getting dirty.” Comworth laughed. “I know.” “God,” Gabriel said. He was taking heaving breaths as he tried not to cry. “I loved them. Maybe not well, maybe not enough, but, still, I loved them both so much. As best as I could, as best as I knew how to.” “I know that, Gabriel,” Comworth said. “Simon and River know that too.” “How could they?” Gabriel sniffed. “What evidence did I ever show?” “There were thousands of things, little things, you did for them as they were growing up,” Comworth said. “You let River stay up late so she could go to the ballet as a child, and when she grew older, you let her perform in it. You gave Simon a real stethoscope on his seventh birthday when most fathers would have given toys. They will always love you; you are their father.” “But,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “They left. River said loving was coming. Leaving must be hating.” “You’re drunk,” Comworth said, not judgmentally. “The only loving thing to do was to let them go. I understand it hurts right now. Damn it, it feels like someone’s reached in your chest, garbed your heart and ripped it to shreds. I know.” “They weren’t your children,” Gabriel said, almost angrily. “I lost children,” Comworth continued, his voice rising as he spoke. “Need I remind you what happened to Genie’s mother? Or how about Meredith, my wife? I know. My happy family is dead. You should be glad yours isn’t. They may be gone, but they are alive.” “That’s true,” Gabriel said, properly rebuked. “You’re absolutely right. I should be glad. But I miss them, I will miss them.” “They will miss you,” Comworth said. “How could they not? You’re their father.” * * * Mal didn’t know why he couldn’t sleep. His crew was safe and accounted for, his ship was fueled and ready to take off in the morning, his stomach was filled with good food and hardy liquor. But he couldn’t rest, there was an itch in the back of his mind, an unquestionable and nervous certainty that there was something out of place. His mind skimmed over every detail of the day, every word with the people in the villa, every look and every movement. But Mal knew what it felt like to be hunted, and the uneasiness in his mind wasn’t a bit like that. It was more a feeling that something was lost or hadn’t been put away. Restless, and without the hope of getting rest until his mind was at ease, Mal tossed off his covers and started pulling on his boots. Ten minutes later, he was wandering Sweet Well, heading more or less towards Serenity. He planed to check the ship from stem to stern and make sure everything was where it should be and he was considering going through Inara’s shuttle too, looking for anything suspect, a bug, a tracer, anything. He knew that wasn’t what bothered him but doing something was a hell of a lot better than lying in bed and worrying. It was still cold out, but the rain had stopped and a full moon was casting a silvery light over the whole of the quiet town. There was a time in his life when he would have stood for a moment and appreciated the chilled beauty of the scene, but that time was long past. Now he was suspicious of the moon; its light created hundreds of shadows for enemies to hide in and offered him no aid as he walked down the street. He didn’t breathe any easier as he stepped out of the edge of town and onto the field were Serenity and a half a dozen other spaceships were docked. The shadows were bigger, the light seemed brighter and regardless how safe Mal knew he was, he couldn’t keep his mind from envisioning a half a dozen ambush scenarios and how he could, with luck and skill, get out of them. The closer he got to Serenity, the more assured Mal felt that he wasn’t alone. When he reached the ramp he saw his feeling was well founded. There was movement in the shadows that covered the hatch door and the sobs of a very young girl were clearly audible. Relief washed over Mal like a flood. He’d known something was wrong, as far as wrong things went, River being off her nut was one he thought he could pretty well handle. “Hey there, little bit,” he called at the sniffling shadow. “This ain’t where you’re supposed to be.” “I know,” she said, looking up at him through the shadows. The only part of her truly visible was the whites of her eyes. “The door is locked." "Your brother know you're here?" "He forgot. Kaylee's helping him remember." "Huh," Mal grunted. "He's with Kaylee? Well, that explains it." Turning back to River he said, "But that don't explain why you're out here." "It’s wrong to pick locks. Bad things happen when you do wrong things.” “Tell me you ain’t here to punish yourself,” Mal said, his sense of dread spiking. “I wanna go home,” River muttered. “To many people are whispering.” Mal looked at her bewildered for a second, then he smiled kindly. Reaching out to her, he said, “Come on shao nu , let’s go back.” River whimpered softly and turned away. “Come on,” Mal urged, holding his hand out insistently. Reluctantly, River reached out and took the Captain’s hand. Mal was surprised by how small and delicate it was, not that he had expected it to be large and rough, but the girl was so odd that Mal sometimes forgot that she was, in fact, a girl. “You should be in bed,” he said, pulling her to her feet and out of the shadows. “It’s late and tomorrow –“ “I can sleep tomorrow,” River said. “Tomorrow I’ll be home. All the voices will be whispering but I’ll be able to pretend I don’t hear them. But when it’s quiet, I can’t help but hear.” “What you doin’ up so late and out of bed?” Mal asked, gently leading the girl away from Serenity and back towards the Frye house. “The moon doesn’t whisper,” River answered, leaning back as she walked so she could gaze at the bright white orb. “She sings like silver bells at Christmas time.” “You’re not gonna make a dollop of sense tonight, are ya?” Mal sighed. River shifted, looking from the moon to him, “I’m not a very good daughter,” she said sadly. “I’m sorry.” “What?” Mal asked, he couldn’t keep his voice from squeaking. “Kaylee is so good,” River said, her voice filled with admiration. “She can cook, and fix things and make people happy. She makes everybody happy. She’s a good daughter.” “I . . . I suppose,” Mal said uncomfortably. “I know her daddy loves her.” “And Simon,” River continued with the same hero-worshiping tone, “He’s a good son. He’s so smart and brave. And he’s a doctor. A doctor is always useful,” she laughed. “Who wouldn’t want a doctor?” “I’m sure your father . . .” Mal started weakly. “But I’m not like them,” River continued. “I don’t know how to be good, how to be useful. I don’t know how to make you proud.” “What?” Mal asked again. “Me proud?” River nodded at him, her brown eyed seemed deeply sorrowful and her voice was barely above a whisper. “But you still come, every time. You’re such a good father.” “Father?!” Mal gasped. “River, I ain’t,” he cleared his throat. “I ain’t your father.” “I know,” River said, bowing her head. Her voice trembled, like she was about to cry. “But mine didn’t come. And he’ll never come again. And you always come, always.” Mal had to admit that she had a valid argument. “That may be true, fact is, it is true. But ‘cause I’m willing to come for you when you need me, that don’t make me your father.” “Doesn’t it?” River asked with a somewhat superior tone, as if she knew the answer and it was Mal who was confused. “No,” Mal insisted. “It don’t.” “Oh,” River said softly. Then she nodded and bowed her head, dejected. Mal literally bit his tongue and a string of vile curses ran through his mind. As if the girl’s day hadn’t been hard enough, he’d topped it off with more rejection. “Look,” he said after a moment. “I ain’t your father. You only got one and it’s not my place to take you away from him.” “But you did,” River pointed out. “I did,” Mal said, a little deflated. He took a deep breath and continued passionately. “Don’t change the fact that he’s your father. Nothin’ in the ‘verse can change that, and you know it.” River nodded dolefully. “But,” Mal added, softening his voice. “I am your captain. And that means I am gonna come for you, whenever you need me. Understand?” River turned and looked at her captain. Her lips were pressed together and looked almost white. Her eyes were large kept darting from right to left and up and down, never truly focusing on him. “But I don’t do anything,” River protested. “I know I’m a problem. I know I’m dangerous and I don’t know how not to be.” “That don’t concern me over much,” Mal confessed. “I know you try your best. That’s enough.” “But I can’t . . .” River began. “Look, shao nu” Mal said, with more patience than he’d been able to accumulate for any human for a good many years. “This ain’t about you, what you can do and what you can’t. You don’t got to earn your way onto the ship. I made a decision that, maybe, had a little to do with your brother and his skills with a scalpel, but mostly it had to do with the fact that you two needed someone to look after you.” River nodded, smiling a little, like he was finally getting the point. “We need a father.” “No,” Mal said, shaking his head. “You got one a them already and, not to make you fell bad, but he didn’t do all that much for you. Not when it counted. Another father ain’t gonna help matters.” “You won’t be a father,” River nodded, the concept finally sinking into her pretty little head. “It’s not your job.” “I will be your captain,” Mal promised her. “I’ll look after you, make sure your done right by and see that no harm comes to you. That’s part of a captain’s job.” River pressed her eyes shut as a bittersweet smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Captain.” Mal took a deep breath and let it out, relieved. “Glad we got that settled.” River nodded mutely. They walked a few more steps in silence. Mal found the silence thick and oppressive. He liked it when River chattered; it let him think of her as a normal girl, the sweet normal girl that she wanted to be. He always tied to think of people they way they wanted to be thought of, for Mal it was a sort of watered down version of the golden rule. It was why he stodgily ignored all Book’s odd un-Shepherd like behaviors. If the old man wanted to be thought of as a kindly preacher, so long as it did no one any harm, Mal didn’t see the fault in keeping up the farce. “Ya all right?” he asked, breaching the silence. River turned and smiled at him sweetly. “Ice cold fear retreats each time you speak Still there is no true shelter from the war Death will find me even in your keep Usurp the grand protection, which you swore Would light my way through darkness deep And shatter screams of their false lore Tormenting me awake and in my sleep As they whisper to me what's in store. Impotent hero, can not conquer the vile Yet content am I to sit with you and wait For your heart is noble and your manner mild Your arm is strong and your courage great So like Hector’s son, the guiltless child I seek comfort, though I know my fate,” she told her captain in such an innocent and childish voice that it sounded almost like a nursery rhyme. “Well,” Mal said uncertainty, he wasn’t quite sure if that poem was a complement or an insult. “I wouldn’t want any other captain,” River said, leaning over so her head was resting on his shoulder, even though they were still walking through the town, the Frye’s house having just come into view. Mal felt an odd constriction in his throat. He didn’t like it. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, actions which didn’t affect River’s affectionate stance in the least. “It’s late,” he said very officially. “Long past time for you to be in bed.” River whimpered a little and clung to him even tighter. “Last night it killed me,” she insisted with sheer innocent, terror. “It bit in and chewed and spat me out. Please, I can’t sleep in the darkness again.” “River,” Mal said rationally. “The darkness didn’t eat you.” “I know,” River insisted. “It spit me out.” “If it killed you then how come you’re alive now?” River didn’t have an answer for that, her brow furrowed and her lips pouted as she tried to make her experiences fit with what she knew had to be reality. It was always a difficult task and made her head ache. “You’re sleepy,” Mal said in response to her silence. “I’ll see you to bed.” Mal led the way into and through the silent Frye house, River followed obediently. Because he didn’t know where else to take her, he opened the door to his room and ushered her in. “Just plop down on the bed there,” he instructed. “Be sure to take your boots off.” River nodded and did as she was told. Once the large black combat boots had dropped to the floor and the girl had curled under the covers, Mal moved to the door. “Stop,” River whimpered. “What was that?” Mal asked, pausing as he reached for the doorknob. “It’ll come again tonight,” The girl said, peering up at him through the rumpled quilt he’d thrown over her. “Please don’t leave me alone.” Mal turned and looked at her. She was too old, he thought, to be afraid of the dark. But her eyes were filled with real terror and her voice had an unmistakably desperate tone to it. It might have been indulgent to turn around and give her her way, but it would have been cruel to leave her alone with whatever monsters were in her head. Mal turned and pulled a well-worn wooden chair out of the corner and up to the bed. “I’ll sit here ‘till you’re asleep.” “You’re a good captain,” River said with a yawn. Mal smiled down at her. “Shut your eyes, shao yang nu ,” he told her. “I’m right here. Ain’t nothin’ ta fear.” * * * “Ting ju ,” Kaylee muttered. “What?” Simon gasped as he jerked back obediently. “We need to stop,” Kaylee said, rolling of the good doctor, leaving them both more than a little cold. “Ah,” Simon said after a moment. He was trying not to sound as frustrated as he was, Kaylee figured, which was why his voice was trembling like it was. It was a sort of tremble Kaylee recognized very well, and usually she brought it about by a fairly sadistic desire to make her lover squirm. But this time her motives were somewhat more noble, so instead of feeling a sort of superior satisfaction all she felt was sorry for poor Simon and a little frustrated herself. “Did I . . . ?” Simon stuttered. “I mean, I didn’t . . .” “Didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” Kaylee said, trying just like Simon to make her voice sound light and normal. “But if we don’t stop now, we ain’t gonna stop.” “Do you want to stop?” “Not really.” “Oh, then . . . then I’m confused.” “Just,” Kaylee said, swallowing hard and trying to think of the right words to explain her feelings to the boy beside her and convince him they were doing the right thing. This task seemed particularly hard considering Kaylee hadn’t really convinced herself. She longed to roll over, back on top of Simon and let him wrap his arms around her, all gentle and protective, and his heart beating under her. But this was a time for self control. “I been thinkin’, ‘bout what you said back at the stream.” “Kaylee, what I said . . .” “And I see what you mean,” the girl continued quickly before Simon could talk her out of agreeing with him. “With other boys it . . . well, You’re special, Simon, ya mean a lot ta me and I kinda want . . . if we did this I’d want it ta mean something,’ like you said. I’d want it to be somethin’ special not just another roll in the hay.” Simon laughed, short and clipped but full of actual humor; it made Kaylee smile. He reached out and started picking little bits of tawny straw out of her hair. “You know,” he said, the frustration easing out of his voice as amusement took its place. “I always assumed the term ‘roll in the hay’ was a euphemism.” “Well,” Kaylee said, “Ya learn somethin’ new every day.” They were in her father’s barn, tucked away in the hay loft. It was a place Kaylee knew well. Growing up, her older siblings would always be up there, having hay fights or building forts or, on occasion, rolling in the hay themselves. She hadn’t been allowed up there until she was twelve, and considered generally smart enough and coordinated enough not to fall off. She had fallen off /the loft, of course, when she was 14 in the middle of a ruckus hay fight, but thankfully she’d fallen into the manure pile and the worse that had come of it was a little teasing and a long bath. The hay loft had always been a place of mystery and excitement for Kaylee. The first time she’d climbed up the ladder, she’d gotten a huge thrill, and she’d felt a similar, albeit smaller, thrill every successive ascension. Still, she’d never taken a boy up there; she didn’t want to ruin the lofts playful, exciting atmosphere with tainted memories of some guy who’d turned into a jerk. Besides, there were dozens of places just as suited, if not more so, for little trysts all around town. But Simon was special, Kaylee’d thought, as she led him out of the rain and into the barn. He was different from any boy she’d ever meet before. When he looked at her, she buzzed with curiosity, dying to know what was going on behind his blue-gray eyes. When he said her name, it sounded new and fresh, beautiful and elegant. When he touched her, her whole body felt warm. When he smiled at her, nothing else seemed to matter. He could make her feel like a woman and like a little girl at the same time, she didn’t understand it, but she loved it. Simon, in the past few days, had suffered a bombardment of horrible things. Kaylee wasn’t sure exactly what form those things took, but she knew Simon well enough to know that he tried to bury his sorrows and press on with tenacious good humor. The fact that he’d allowed himself to wander off and sulk told her that whatever had happened in that villa was beyond the pale as far as the boy’s emotions were concerned. She couldn’t make it better; she knew that. She couldn’t make the fact that he’d left his mother and father, probably forever, go away. She couldn’t give back what he’d lost and she couldn’t fill that emptiness that he felt. But she could distract him, maybe let him know that someone, at least, loved him. And part of that, Kaylee reasoned, was not going all the way, keeping their relationship, as a whole, separate from every other relationship she’d ever had, keeping it special. “Are you cold?” Simon asked, his hand had drifted from her hair to the nape of her neck and his thumb was running up and down her jaw. “A little,” she admitted. “You?” “A little,” he admitted. Kaylee smiled, she could feel her cheeks reddening. “Well,” she told him. “Don’t suppose if I came any closer you’d jump me.” “Oh,” Simon chuckled, looking innocently heavenward. “I would never. Not with you.” “Dr. Tam,’ Kaylee laughed. “Did you just joke?” Simon nodded, rustling the hay as he moved his head. Kaylee scooted a little closer, so that they were lying side by side, facing each other. She would have only have had to tilted her head upward slightly and they would have been kissing. But she wasn’t going to do that. And, as Simon wrapped his arms around her, she reveled in the fact that he wasn’t going to tilt his head down. It was such a comfortable feeling, to know that he wouldn’t push, wouldn’t try anything, and wouldn’t ruin anything. He respected her, unlike Henderson and his ilk. He wouldn’t have done this with just anyone, again unlike Henderson. He thought that this sort of fooling around was more than just fooling around, unlike Henderson. He thought of her as more than just a pretty girl, unlike Henderson. He though a host of wonderful things, unlike Henderson or anyone else from little Sweet Well. “I like this,” She said, nuzzling a little closer to him. “This feels right.” “Yeah,” he answered, she could feel his hand stroking her hopelessly hay-filled hair. “This is nice.” “You feel better?” “Not . . .” Simon said tentatively. “Not really.” “Oh,” Kaylee said, sinking slightly away from him. The clever doctor must have figured out he said something vastly wrong, because he quickly amended the statement. “Kaylee, I . . . what you do for me, all you do for me, don’t think I don’t . . . don’t think it doesn’t mean anything--that I don’t appreciate it.” “I don’t think that,” Kaylee said, not really lying but not really being honest. “Because I do,” Simon said. “Every laugh, every smile, every touch . . . I value. I know what you’re trying to do for me and . . . and even if you can’t make me feel better, I can’t tell you how much it means that you care enough to try.” “Still,” Kaylee muttered dejectedly. “Ain’t really helpin’.” “No,” Simon said. “Don’t . . . that’s not what I’m trying to say.” Kaylee shifted, so she could look him in the eyes expectantly. "What are you trying to say?" she asked with a whisper. "I'm . . ." Simon started, he was breathing heavily and blinking furiously. She could tell that he was yearning to lean forward those three short inches and kiss her. She pressed her lips tightly together, as much to discourage him as remind herself that kissing at this point wouldn't solve any problems. "I'm trying to tell you that, when I'm with you, all my problems, and trauma and grief . . . everything that's dark in my life, you outshine." Kaylee's tightly pursed lips melted into a smile as her eyes drifted down away from his and she could feel a hot blush spreading across her cheeks. "That smile just. . ." he said softly, his voice trailing off. Kaylee looked back up at him with a coy twinkle in her eye. "Just what?" Simon took a deep breath and focused his attention slightly to Kaylee's left, over her shoulder, into the general darkness of the barn. "Just," he said. "There was this girl . . ." "A girl?" Kaylee asked. If Simon noticed how uneasy her voice was, he didn't let it bother him. He nodded and continued with his story. "She was in my class at medacade. She was smart enough, I guess, although, I think she graduated near the bottom of the class. I can't remember her name, Jessie, maybe, or Kelsey, anyways the point is, it was well known that she only went to school so she could meet and marry a doctor." "Fah biow, " Kaylee laughed, a little relieved that this was not a story about a former lover. "Yeah," he chuckled. "Although, to be fair she did accomplish her goal. I'm pretty sure she was married two weeks after graduation, I don't even think she had a residency." "How interesting," Kaylee said. Simon blinked and returned to the conversation, "I mention her because I remember our second year, the Friday after finales second term, we all decided to go to the beach. We had a cookout with swimming and kites and a water balloon fight . . ." "Sounds fun." "It was," Simon said, less than convincingly. "But she was lying on the beach tanning." "You threw a balloon at her, didn't you." "It wasn't me," Simon said, earnestly. Then, slipping into a smile, added "I did laugh, though." Kaylee giggled. "She yelled at us, all of us. And we were sort of drunk so that just made us laugh harder." "And I always thought doctors were so sober." Simon laughed, "Not if they don't have to be." "Is that the story?" Kaylee asked. "That you got yelled at by a biao zi ?" "No," Simon said, shaking his head and smiling. "No. The story is that someone, I'm not sure who, although I suppose it doesn’t really matter . . . well, someone asked her why she never smiled and I hadn't noticed it until that day, but it was true. She was very beautiful, I mean, in the classical sense, but she never . . . never smiled." "She tell you why not?" Simon nodded, "She said she didn't want to get yu way wen " "Kai wan shiau, " Kaylee laughed. "No," Simon said, chuckling, but not really laughing. "Really, it’s true." "She didn't smile 'cause she didn't want crows feet round her eyes?" "That's what she said," Simon nodded. "And I, after I heart that, she just, she never seemed pretty anymore. I always imagined her as this drab old lady who looked mean and aged too fast because she never smiled.” “Why you tellin’ me this?” “You always smile,” Simon said with a warm voice. He shifted a little in the hay and moved his arm so his hand cupped her chin instead of playing with the end of her straw riddled hair. He stroked the corner of her left eye with his thumb and had a sort of dreamy look on his face. “When you’re old, you’ll have the most beautiful fish tails, and wrinkles around your smile.” “You like that?” Kaylee asked. Simon smiled back at her. “I like you,” he said simply. “And I can’t imagine not liking what you’re going to be.” “That’s the prettiest thing anyone’s ever told me,” Kaylee giggled. She didn’t want to giggle, she wanted to be sophisticated and composed she wanted to be like one of those ladies at the ball on Persephone, the kind of ladies she assumed he was used to, the kind of lady she assumed he’d want. “You’re always laughing,” Simon said with admiration. “That ain’t true,” Kaylee said modestly. “It’s true enough,” Simon said. "Well," Kaylee said not quite philosophically. "It's nice to laugh and smile." She nestled herself a little closer to him, so that her ear was right next to his heart, which was beating with a almost hypnotizing pattern. "Wish you'd do it more." “I try," Simon said with a slightly apologetic and completely defenseless tone. "But these last months . . . from the time I left Osiris until, well, until today I didn’t . . . I couldn’t see straight. I kept looking over my shoulder, at what had been.” she felt him turn his head away from her so he could look at the darkness between them and the barn roof. “I wanted to go back.” “And now you don’t?” Kaylee said, trying to make her voice sound more compassionate than hopeful. “I won’t lie and say there aren’t thing’s all always miss,” Simon said. “But, when I look at you, I realize there are things I have on Serenity that I never could have had in the Core. I . . . don’t think I’m grateful, really, that River was . . . what I mean is I once told you that the hospital was my home.” “I remember.” "Compared to life on Serenity, the hospital seems, I don't know, flat." "Flat?" "I do miss working with patients," Simon admitted. "But, while a good doctors are not necessarily a dime a dozen, they could get a qualified replacement for me in a heartbeat." Kaylee couldn't help but smile as she heard a soft and steady wub-thud. "But I'm needed on Serenity," Simon continued, his voice was filled with a kind of wonder, as if all this was somehow a revelation to him. "I mean, even if I don't consider the fact that River needs me, among the crew I'm still irreplaceable. I've saved lives--no one else could have done that." "Saved me," Kaylee interjected warmly. "First but not least," Simon said leaning his head slightly forward so that he was talking more or less into her straw-matted hair. It wasn't really like he was kissing her, but considering the circumstances it was close enough. “I can't imagine," he continued distractedly. "I don’t think I would have been able to survive these past few months without you.” Kaylee hadn’t expected that, her voice caught in her throat. After what seemed like an awkwardly long time she was finally able to stutter, “What, wha’da’ya mean?” "There were times," Simon said, hesitating only a little. "Short bouts of self-pity and depression. The whole 'verse seemd dark, bleak, black." "It mostly is black," Kaylee told him. She felt more than heard him laugh. "Still," he said. "On those dark days, you brought color to my life.” “Color?” Kaylee asked, flattered. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Hum," Kaylee muttered "That's real sweet. Kinda like, did you ever see that old flick ‘The Wizard of Oz’?” “No, but I read the book to River when she was seven." "It's a book?" Kaylee said, a little surprised. "Yeah," Simon said. "Although, I'm not really sure why they call it children's literature. It has more blood and violence in it than Shan Yu." "I don't think we're talkin' 'bout the same story," Kaylee said uncertainly. "The flick's about this sweet little farm girl what's always singing and she and her dog and her whole house gets swept up in a tornado and they sort of fall into this beautiful magical land called Oz.” “And they crush a woman as they land," Simon said. "It's the same story. I don't remember the singing though." "Probably added it for the movie," Kaylee figured quickly. "Thinkin' on it, the color probably was too." "The color?" Simon asked. "Yeah," Kaylee said with some enthusiasm. “You know, the whole time she’s home at her farm, the time before the tornado, her life is all black and white, like them really old flicks." "Ok." "But then the tornado comes and she's all twisted around and plop, her house gets dumped on the ground and she goes to open the door and just like that it’s all in color. And not just regular color, like green trees or blue skies, but there were these gigantic flowers and shimmering bubbles and little people with purple hair.” “Munchkinland was blue," Simon said softly to himself, "the whole screen should have been in blue . . . or was it yellow." "The road was yellow," Kaylee offered helpfully. "Yeah," Simon said softly. "That's the same." There was a soft pause. Simon broke the silence after a second with a soft laugh. "This is exactly what I mean. I never thought I'd find myself in a barn with the prettiest girl I've ever known talking about thoroughly disquieting books. But I . . . I can't name a place I’d rather be." "I'm the prettiest girl you've ever known?" Kaylee asked, she had to fight to keep from giggling excitedly. "Without question," Simon said. His voice wasn't seductive or flirtatious or anything other than matter-of-fact. "And you ain't even drunk." Simon laughed and closed his eyes. “I should stop talking,” he told her. “I’m tired and emotionally unstable and it’s only a matter of time before I say something stupid and you get mad at me and then I’ll be pummeled by some lunatic who has a grudge against Jayne.” “Oh,” Kaylee said with more than a little mirth in her voice. “I’m sorry.” “I know,” Simon told her, once again moving his arm so he could wrap it around her. “Feel better?” she tried again, hopefully. “Yeah,” Simon sighed. “I think I do.” * * *

Thursday

When River woke up she was alone the crisp, clean light of a cool autumn morning was shining in through the window and warming patches of the bed she was laying on. She was disoriented at first, but no more than usual and eventually the memory of Captain Reynolds pulling of her boots came to mind. It was a reverse Cinderella, she though and laughed. Yesterday was a day for crying. Today would be a day for laughing. She sprang out of the bed and quickly buckled up her boots. She was going to Serenity today. She was going home. She bounded down the stairways with unusual grace, even for her. She felt like a bright red ball bouncing on bright green grass. Of course, grass wasn't nearly hard enough or smooth enough for a ball to bounce on properly. But today was going to be such a good day that physics could be ignored. Physics would catch up to her eventually, they always did. Still, it was worth it. There were pancakes in the kitchen. River could smell them. Pancakes with butter and honey and strawberries. Kaylee's favorite breakfast for Kaylee's last day on the planet. River reached the doorway to the kitchen, the door that was letting heavenly smells waft through the large house. She leaned against the frame, hesitating just a little. She had never been an overly shy girl, but without someone to lead her, the anxiety she felt about entering a room uninvited spread across her horizon like dark storm clouds. She wasn’t going to let the clouds rain on her green grass and red ball, but they did seem to have an odd effect on how high she bounced. “Hey there, River,” Captain Reynold’s merry voice said as he entered the kitchen from the back door on the other side. He was carrying a heavy looking tin pail full of fresh Milk and Al Frye was right behind him, holding the door open. “River,” Inara said. The companion had been sitting at the kitchen table, slicing strawberries. She leaned over and smiled prettily at the young girl. “How long have you been standing there?” “Oh, River, sweetie,” Nora said, stepping momentarily away from the griddle where she was flipping pancakes so she could look at River, still stuck shyly at the door. “Come on in. I was just thinking how nice it would be ta have someone here who could whip up some cream. Al, you come do this while I set River up.” The sun broke through her dark clouds and River beamed as she walked into kitchen. Mal had set the pail down on the table and moved so he could sit next to Inara and try and snatch bits of strawberry from her pile, a very dangerous endeavor considering she had a sharp knife in her hand. Al assumed a place at the stovetop, taking the spatula from his wife as she opened a draw and pulled out a large deep wooden spoon and a shiny mettle wisp. “River, dear, take these,” she said, handing the utensils to the girl. River obeyed, feeling sheepish and excited. She could feel Inara and the Captain looking at her, even as they played their tug of war with the strawberries and the knife. “Ya ever made wiped cream before?” Nora asked as she reached up to pull a pretty blue-willow mixing bole off of a high shelf. River shook her head “Well,” Nora said, setting the bole down right next to the bucket of milk. “It’s easy as can be. What ya gotta do is ladle this thick stuff on the top (that’s the cream, dear) out of this bucket and into this bowl. That’s what the ladle’s for. Then ya gotta whip it up with this whisk here, but not too much ‘cause we don’t want it turning into butter. When it’s just about ready we’ll add a snip of sugar and it’ll be perfect for on top of these strawberries. Think you can do that?” River nodded and very carefully got to work. It was by no means an all-consuming job, especially for someone who could figure square roots while performing fouettés. Still, River threw herself into the work. She hadn’t had whipped cream for over three years. Her mind started filling itself with sweet confectionery thoughts as she very carefully tried to whip the white liquid into the perfect consistency of fluffy goodness. Her red ball turned into a maraschino cherry. Her green grass turned into sweet coconut shavings. The blue sky became icing, so sweet and sugary that her teeth hurt thinking about it and the clouds were made up of the very whipped cream she was making. By the time pancakes were finished, the strawberries cut, the cream whipped, the honey jar opened and table set, Mal, miraculously, still had all his fingers, and Simon and Kaylee had yet to show themselves. Everybody knew that Kaylee had gone out late last night for Simon and nobody had seen them since. There were two very likely explanations for why that would be. The first of those explanations was that the young man and young woman had found a secluded spot to do what young men and young women do when they are in secluded spots. None at the table, with the exception of Inara, actually hoped this was the case, but considering the second of the explanations, it was the far superior. It was, of course, possible that Simon and Kaylee had fallen into some horrible disaster. They could be hurt, kidnapped, tortured, and quite possibly even dying. However, Mal was fairly sure that, if such was the case, he’d have an uneasy feeling, or at least, River would be panicking. Her relative calmness and clear good mood predisposed him to believe the first explanation was the correct one, and the rest of the company was willing to trust him and follow his lead. If the kids didn’t show their faces by the time breakfast was over, well, then it might be prudent to start to worry. River was very aware of all these thoughts hanging in the air around her. They made her smile. She could feel Simon’s overall contentment in the air too, so she wasn’t worried. She could also feel Kaylee’s excitement. River knew life was good, all cherries and whipped cream, so she was the only one who didn’t react with relief tempered with condemnation as the two young people came into the kitchen door. She just grinned at them. “Hey,” Kaylee said, standing on her tiptoes, reaching up and pulling a piece of straw out of his dark hair. “Ya missed one.” Simon’s only response was running his hands through his disheveled hair, checking for any more stray bits. Kaylee’s hair was pulled back in a loose, hay-filled, ponytail which Simon was clearly too intimidated to pick at. He didn’t want to pull her hair. This puzzled River because her brother had never shown any hesitation to pulling her hair when it suited his purposes. “Where have you two been?” Mal asked, glaring at Simon. It delighted him to see the doctor squirm. It was a vice Mal wasn’t exactly proud of, but he wasn’t nearly ashamed enough to stop. River giggled to, at her brother’s discomfort. He was too much a gentleman for his own good. “Oh,” Kaylee said, craftily avoiding the question. “Pancakes!” “Special for you, sweetie,” Nora said looking at her daughter with an odd combination of affection and disapproval. “Ya almost missed them.” “Glad I didn’t,” Kaylee said, sitting down in the one of the two empty places. Simon quickly and silently occupied the other. He didn’t look up at Mal or either of the Fryes and his cheeks were burning. It took all of River’s decorum to keep her giggles from turning into out and out hysterics. “Doctor,” Al said, practically daring Simon to look at him. “Why don’t you say grace?” Simon finally looked up at Kaylee’s father, fear clearly visible in his eyes. “Grace?” he asked hoarsely, swallowing. “Where’s . . . where is Shepherd Book?” “He, Jayne, Wash and Zoë are all havin’ breakfast with the folks they stayed with,” Mal explained quickly. “You and River were supposed to be over with Hubert.” “Oh,” Simon said, distraught over having yet another thing to be sorry for. “I didn’t realize. If we’re imposing . . .” “Stop it,” Nora said, looking ruefully at the captain. She turned to Simon and smiled sweetly. “The more the merrier. I was tickled pink when Captain Reynolds here told me River and you’d be havin’ breakfast with us.” “River,” Simon said, truly noticing her for the first time. “What are you . . .?” “If you don’t ask I won’t tell,” River told her brother coyly. “What won’t you tell?” Simon asked. He wasn’t sure wither he wanted an answer or not. “Hey,” Mal said just loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “I don’t much care for the prayin’ but if we gotta do it ‘fore we eat I’d like to get it along.” “I’ll pray,” Kaylee said, sending Simon a playfully scolding glare. She folded her hands and bowed her head and looked saintly, all sweetness and light. “Our Father in Heaven,” She said softly a smile in her voice. “We thank you for all you’ve given us. For friends and family and good food. Watch over us today and every other. Amen.” * * * The rain had passed over Sweet Well, the sun was shinning and the air was crisp and clear, but the coldness had stayed. River watched as Serenity’s crew loaded the ship with jars of fruit-preserves, baby supplies, and a load of spare parts from Kaylee’s father’s shop. River, because she was the youngest and because she was rarely trusted with anything, was not allowed to help. Zoë, too, was ordered by Mal to sand and watch or, as he diplomatically put it, supervise. “You want it to be over,” River told her softly and abruptly. “What?” Zoë asked. The question seemed curl itself up into wisps of smoke, as her breath was visible in the cold. River watched the white cloud with some interest and only answered when the little cloud had totally dispersed. For some odd reason, the girls breath didn’t make little puffs of steam. “The excitement isn’t enough,” her voice sounded sad. “At first you thought you could, but it’s not who you are, or who you want to be.” Realization flickered across Zoë’s eyes. It was quickly followed by fear and shame. “You talkin’ about the baby,” the firstmate told River as much as asked her. The young girl looked at Zoë curiously, as if the woman’s deduction was totally illogical, and shook her head. “I’m talking about the mother.” Zoë wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She opened her mouth with full faith that something would come out of it but, as fate would have it, no response was necessary. At that moment Jack, with his family in tow, came running across the yard. “River!” the young boy yelled with innocent, unabated, teenaged passion. River pivoted quickly and, although Zoë couldn’t see it, she knew the girl’s face lit up like a pulsar. “Jack,” she said quickly, with a laugh, and then started running towards the boy. They met about six yards away, just close enough for Zoë to overhear every part of their conversation. “Where were you this mornin’?” Jack asked. “I was real worried.” River hung her head. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “River, ya don’t gotta cry over it.” River brought her hands to her face and wiped her tears away roughly with the edges of a too-large old gray wool sweater she’d been given by Nora Frye to fight off the planets cold. “I’m trying very hard,” River told Jack. “Please believe me.” “It’s sweet,” Jack assured her. “The way you’re skittish. You’re not trying to be anything special, and that makes what you are just . . . specialer, I guess.” River laughed the laugh of a giddy teenaged girl. As Zoë watched the two of them talk, she couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside. She had a soft spot for River, for some reason she herself didn’t really understand. It was, possibly, because River was so incredibly helpless. She knew, even if Mal had never dared tell her, that that was the real reason the Tam’s had been invited to stay on Serenity. They desperately needed the type of protection Mal could provide. They didn’t know how to be outlaws, they didn’t know how to run and hide, they didn’t know how to survive. Someone had to teach them, and Mal had always been such a good teacher. Zoë remembered when she first met him in a sort of ramshackle boot camp for the independent forces. He was a sergeant because he’d survived the first major battle of the war, the battle on Tristram’s Moon. She was one of the hundreds of thousands that flocked to Hera to join the Independent troops after the news of the ‘Slaughter on Tristram’ got out. Her oldest sister, Jana, had been a cook at a ranch on Tristram. She’s been forced into the Alliance troops under threat of imprisonment. She wrote home saying it was better to be a foot solider getting paid than a prisoner being starved. She wasn’t bitter and she wasn’t worried and he wasn’t going to fight, she’d just go to battles and doge bullets. She’d cost through the war and go back to her ranch after. Jana was young and naive and counted among the 48 Alliance casualties of Tristram, when well over 300 Independents were killed. Zoë’d joined the war for her sake, for her memory. She couldn’t blame the independents, they were clearly trying to protect what was there’s. They hadn’t forced anyone into the war, they hadn’t thrown innocents onto the front line. An Independent solider may have fired the bullet that went though Jana’s neck and flooded her lungs so that she drowned in her own blood, but there was no question that the Alliance was the ones that killed her. Zoë wanted revenge, pure and simple, the more Alliance blood on her hands, the better. Mal had taken one look at her and told her to go home. She was too young, too scrawny. She told him her story, with all the overheated passion of a 17-year-old girl. At the end she had been crying, trembling with furry and grief. He’d nodded, coldly it’d seemed to her at the time, and asked simply. “If I say you can come along, you’ll do everything I say, no questions asked?” For the first time in her life Zoë told Mal “Yes sir.” And the rest, as they say, was history. From that moment on she’d followed him to hell and back without qualm and, largely, without fear. At the beginning she’d gone through the resenting phase, where she hated him because he was the authority. After a while, about half way through the war, she entered the crush phase, where she loved him because he seemed perfect. When they lost she suffered through the interdependent phase, where they stayed together because neither of them had anywhere else to go. And finally he’d found Serenity and she’d found Wash and they’d reached the comrade phase. She knew him better than he knew himself at times, and visa versa. She’d never been happier. Zoë saw the whole thing starting over again with Mal and River. He didn’t really want her, he knew this wasn’t a good place for her to be, but he also knew there was no place in the ‘veres where she could go. She didn’t think the willowy girl would ever be a comrade in arms with the hardnosed captain, but there was no question that Mal had found himself another lost little girl to take care of. There had, of course, been Kaylee in the mean time. But she didn’t need him half as much as Zoë herself had, or River would. Maybe that’s why Mal loved the girl so much, Zoë mused, she didn’t need his strong hand guiding her away from darkness – that and no one could help but love Kaylee. No one at all, Zoë thought as her attention turned from the adorable and bashful River to her somewhat less adorable but just as bashful brother, who was helping Wash carry the beautiful crib up the hatch. Kaylee was following, a large basket full of blankets, bottles, dippers and swaddling cloths. She was watching Simon walk with a seductress’s smile on her face. Zoë couldn’t help but laugh. “What you findin’ so funny?” Mal asked, stepping up to his first mate, a large wooden crate full of jars of Strawberry Rhubarb jam. “The two a them,” Zoë said, nodding towards Simon and Kaylee. “Looks like your hard policy against shipboard romances is gonna get broken.” “Yeah,” Mal said. He didn’t sound happy, really, but niter did he sound overly distraught. “Sometimes I wonder why I even bother makin’ rules.” “Sometimes I wonder that too, sir,” Zoë said, smiling just a little. She had her poker face back on by the time Mal realized she’d all but insulted him. “Just ‘cause you found true love on this boat, don’t mean everybody will.” “I know that sir,” Zoë said. “Fact, odds are, ain’t none of the rest of us that will.” “I wouldn’t know that sir,” Zoë said. “What do you mean?” Mal asked. “Just that ‘Something and Nothing produce each other; the difficult and easy compliment each other; the long and the short offset each other; the high and the low incline towards one another; note and sound harmonize with each other; before and after follow each other.’” “Zoë, did I just hear you spurt out poetry?” “Philosophy, actually,” the firstmate corrected smoothly. “Lao Tzu, the Tao Te Ching,” “I didn’t know you read philosophy,” Mal sounded impressed. “Don’t,” Zoë said. “It was part of the speech Wash gave me when he proposed.” “He gave you a speech splattered with ancient philosophy?” Mal asked. “Yes, sir, he did.” “And you still said yes.” Zoë chuckled. “I did, sir.” “Didn’t this whole thing start out about how Kaylee and Simon ain’t you and Wash?” “Yes, sir, I do recall that.” “Then why you bringin’ up your proposal? A topic, which, I’m sure, you’ll remember I asked you never to bring up unless absolutely necessary.” “I’m sorry sir,” Zoë said dryly. “But I look at them and I can’t help but see a ying and a yang. But that’s just me.” With that she turned and started after Wash and Simon so she could show them exactly where she wanted to put the crib, leaving Mal to wonder why people have to fall in love. * * * Serenity seemed to shake more than usual as it lifted off of Newhope. It was, Simon thought, as if the ship realized how much certain members of her crew didn’t want to go, as if she was aware that Kaylee was standing in the cockpit, crying her eyes out, as the planet shrank until, eventually, it would become nothing more than another glittering dot in the sky and, after a time, not even that. It was as if the ship knew that River was sitting on the floor in her room trying to draw a picture of her mother and father, of Reginald and Regina Comworth and even of Jack, so that she wouldn’t ever forget what they looked like, and that she was crying too, even as she tried to draw. It was as if Serenity knew that Simon was holding a tin box in his hands he didn’t want to open, but he had told himself he would as soon as they left the planet. Of course, Simon thought, Serenity was only a ship. It couldn’t know anything. It couldn’t will anything. It couldn’t do any more or less than what Wash and Kaylee had it do. And right now they were telling it to leave Newhope. “Sorry about the bumpy ride,” Wash’s voice said over the ship wide com. “But leaving atmo we ran back into that storm hit us last night. Still, all’s good, and from here on out it should be a nice and smooth all the way to Greenleaf.” The intercom crackled silent and Simon sat for a moment in the quiet, staring at his tin box. When the hush began to get to him he drummed his fingers against the tin once. The tinny rat-tat-tat sealed his resolve and, taking a deep breath, he unhooked the latch and opened the box. A small chalky white cloud of peppermint dust wafted out of the box first. Simon breathed it in and remembered a lifetime ago when his godfather would open a box so similar to this. He could remember the smile on his godfather’s face as he urged Simon to take more than one, an offer the young doctor never accepted. Then he’d turn the tin to River and Genie, both of whom had no qualms about taking a handful of the sweet candies. And then there was his first week at Medacade, away from home and family and all things familiar. In a pathetic, ‘Getting to Know You’ exorcise he’d been forced to participate in, he’d had to “Share something meaningful to you” with his whole class. While he thought about reading them his award-winning paper on the similarities in plant tissue and mammal tissue in regards to grafting, or perhaps show them a clip of River performing as Alice in “Alice and Wonderland” at the Osiris Met. But he’d decided just to pass around a bag of these types of peppermints after his room mate told him “Nobody likes a show off, people will sleep through ballet – not to mention you’ll look like a pansy, but everybody likes candy.” Simon suddenly wished he’d accepted his Godfather’s offer for a peppermint that first night at his villa. As he sat on his small bed, he was struck by the fact he’d never be offered them again. Swallowing his sorrow, he pulled aside the wax paper that covered the small candies and looked into the box. It was only half filed with white sugary balls; the other half was taken up by a small wooden box, rosewood with orangeish-yellow and dark red roses painted on the cover. Simon stared at the box for a second, knowing that whatever gifts his godfather had always wanted to give him were sitting there. Opening it would be a resignation of some sort of finality, the end of their relationship, the handful of dirt flung at the coffin. “You have to,” River said softly, startling Simon so much that he almost dropped the tin and spilled the peppermints all over his floor. “River,” Simon said, sounding more scolding than he meant to. “I thought you were in your room.” River glanced over her shoulder to her open door, as if to demonstrate how short the distance between their two rooms was, and then turned back to him, “I was.” “Are you all right?” he asked, forcing himself to be the caring brother. “Do you need anything?” “You have to open it,” River said again, walking up and sitting next to him on the bed. "Do you want one," Simon asked, stretching the tin out towards her. She leaned forward so that her face was only a few inches above the peppermints and took a deep breath. After a second she looked up at her brother and smiled. "That’s enough," she told him. "I’m full." Simon smiled back and pulled the tin back towards himself, moving to close it. "Don’t," River said quickly, stopping Simon in his tracks. "What? Did you change you’re mind." "You didn’t finish." "Finish?" Simon asked, "River, I couldn’t eat all these candies tonight, even if . . ." "No," River said peevishly. "You know the candy is for desert. You didn’t even start the meal." "The meal?" Simon asked, bewildered. "Are you hungry?" "Substance, Simon," River insisted. "It won’t make you sick, it will make you stronger and you’ll learn to like it. Like mushrooms." "River, I still don’t like mushrooms." "But if Uncle Reggie gave them to you, you would eat them," River told her brother seriously, and, suddenly, Simon understood. "You want me to open the box." River nodded. "I don’t know . . ." Simon started. "It’s bitter," River said moving to Simon’s bed and easing herself down besides him so close their arms touched. "But that doesn’t mean you can spit it out." "If I open this pouch it will be like he died," Simon said. "I’ll be admitting that I’ll never see him again." "You never will," River said flatly. "It’s you’re inheritance, Simon, what would Uncle Reggie say if he knew you spurned it?" Simon nodded. His eyes threatened to tear up again. "You should be alone," River said, leaning over and planting a sweet sisterly kiss on her brother’s cheek before pushing herself off the bed and walking towards the door. "River," Simon said, blinking away his tears. "Why did you come in here?" "To stop the stopping," his enigmatic sister answered. "To move the process." "The process?" Simon asked, baffled. River threw him a smile over her shoulder, and then skipped away towards the cargo bay. Simon considered following her and insisting she clarify. But he knew that would be, most likely, an exercise in futility. Besides which, it would just be a distraction form what he really had to do: open that box. Simon took a deep breath and pulled it out of the tin, setting it next to him on the bed. Slowly, almost ceremoniously, he closed the peppermint tin and latched it, placing it carefully on the shelf at the head of his bed. Then, taking yet another deep breath and preparing himself for just about anything, he picked up the wooden box and opened it. The first thing he saw was not the golden pocket watch, nor delicate, finely embroidered silk pouch, but a note sealed with sealing wax and addressed in a very formal hand to Dr. Simon Tam. He picked up the letter, setting the box on his lap, carefully broke the seal so that, when he folded the letter, it would retain its shape, and read.

Dear Simon, The events of the last few days have been tragic to say the least. I wish to God that there was something I could do for you and River, but it has become clear to me that there is nothing. Even if I were to disown my position and my fortune so that I could accompany you on you’re had quest, I would be nothing but a burden and a liability. So, finally, I must let you go. Of course, by the time you read this you will, God willing, be gone. You don’t know how hard it is for me to write that I hope never to see you again, because that is the last thing in the universe I hope for us. But, for your safety and mine, I do hope that I’ll never see you again. I hope you and River find a way to fade into the darkness of space and the people perusing you never find you. I hope the crew of you’re little ship, Malcolm Reynolds and Inara and Kaylee, and others, I’m sure, can provide you a light to keep the darkness that protects you from seeping into you. In short, I wish you all happiness, just not happiness here, with me. You are young and resilient; I know you will find it. In this box I’ve given you two things. I would like to give you more, naturally, but time and circumstances limit my generosity. The watch had been in my family for generation upon generation, since Earth-that-was. I suppose I should have given it to Genie, but she’ll get other things. I don’t want you to forget where you come from, Simon. I don’t want you to forget me or your parents, or disparage your upbringing. I know right now it seems to have failed you, we seem to have failed you, but you must remember that the strength which is propelling you forward to successfully conquer with courage and integrity challenges you’d never imagined, and the strength that is holding up River and keeping her from madness and despair. That strength is the strength you learned from us, me, your parent, and your schools in Osiris. The watch is to remind you to look backwards, on us who love you, no matter how impotent that love may seem, and being grateful. The other gift in the box, which if I know you, you have not even notice yet, is a ring. It’s new, comparatively, and it is for looking forward. I gave it to my wife when I proposed and she wore it until the day she died. My daughter, Genie’s mother, Kristina, who you probably don’t even remember, wore it after that, until the day she died. I do not blame the ring for either of their deaths, so don’t take it as a bad omen. Again, I probably should have saved it for Genie, but she’ll have so much and you’ll have so little, besides, what I’m about to say is very important and I don’t know how, besides giving you a woman’s ring, I would be able to breach the subject. Some day, Simon, possibly someday soon, possibly some day years from now, after I’m long dead and buried, you are going to realize that you do not have to carry the burden alone. Someday there will be a woman who will gladly help you, and who, when you look into her eyes, will make you forget that you have such a heavy burden to carry. When you recognize that woman (wither it be Kaylee or some other, I do adore your friend, but I don’t know what life plans for you and I would not think to speculate at such a precarious stage) I want you to give her this ring. I know you will make the right choice, some day, in the future. This ring was given to you so that you may look to the future and have hope. I want you to be happy Simon, and safe and wu bo and all other good things that could happen to a man. You are more deserving of them than any man I’ve ever known, or truthfully, have known of, but, I’m afraid, you’re path to these simple blessings will be long and hard. You will never be far from my toughs, and always in my prayers. There is so much I want to tell you, but needs be this letter is brief. Your devoted Godfather Reginald Comworth.

Simon, very carefully, folded up the letter. His throat was constricted and he could feel his nose running. His eyes were scratchy and dry, as if they wanted to cry but had run out of tears. He was glad River had left and he was alone in the room. He took a deep, sniffly, breath as he replaced the letter and pulled out the golden pocket watch. He had admired it as a child with the sort of distant aw people admire jewels in a museum, without the hope of ever actually owning it, or anything half so grand. There was an engraved picture of a man and a well breed dog on the front of the watch, and on the back an etching of a fox, running away from the dog, and the man on a hoarse in the distant background. Simon had always liked the fox. He had, at age seven, when his Godfather had explained the scene to him and the tradition of the fox hunt and what the dogs and horses had to do with it, and why it hadn’t been done for hundreds of years, insisted that this particular fox had gotten away. The hunter had gone home empty handed and the dog, who displayed vicious teeth in the second engraving, had gone to bed without any supper. Simon smiled sadly at the irony, he wondered if his godfather had thought of that story as he packed the box, or if it was just a coincidence. When he opened the watch up there were a few words finely etched on the inside of the cover, opposite the watch. “For my dearest LJC I’ll always love you NLC.” Simon wondered who LJC and NLC were, and on what occasion NLC had given LJC the watch. He wished he could ask his godfather. Simon carefully shut the watch, which ticked clearly and precisely every second, and put it back in the small box. Next he took out the embroidered pouch, which was a very dark purple with a golden dragon on it, and pulled out the ring. It was more or less a simple gold band, but instead of a stone there appeared to be a simple knot tied in the gold string. It was simple and beautiful and elegant and would look beautiful on any woman’s hand. Simon smiled as he considered the gift which, in a sense, wasn’t really for him. He hadn’t, despite his few tussles with Kaylee, really thought about the possibility of a girlfriend, or a wife. In part because of his tussles with Kaylee, he wanted one deeply. He wanted someone who could force him out of his morose shell and would laugh at his jokes, even if they were poorly told or sit and listen to him talk like a doctor and at least pretend to understand and be interested, someone who wouldn’t think he was showing off or being pretentious, just being himself. He wanted someone to come up to him and squeeze his hands after a surgery and tell him that he’d done well, he wanted someone to run her fingers through his hair and snuggle up to him on cold nights. He wanted someone to love him for who he was now, the fugitive and criminal, and not hold him on a pedestal or see him as he had been. And, when he was sure he’d found that some one, he was so glad that he had something he could give her back. “Time never stops,” River’s voice said, again softly from his doorway. “Where’d you run off to?” Simon asked. “It’s time for lunch,” River informed her brother. “I should get you.” “Can I assume, from the more or less delicious smells wafting down from the kitchen, that you’re speaking literally?” Simon asked. River laughed. “Where the mushrooms that bad?” “No,” Simon said with a sigh, putting everything back in his box and closing it. He considered putting it on the shelf with his other nick-nacks, but decided against it. Instead he got of the bed and knelt down, pulling his suit case out. “Go on,” he told River, “I’ll be there in a minuet.” “Why are you hiding it?” River ask. “That’s the first place a thief would look.” “Where do you think I should put it?” Simon asked, turning to his sister. River looked at him curiously, her mind working quickly, and then stepped forward and took the box from him. Simon didn’t stop her. She looked around the room, clearly considering this the only appropriate place to keep such a valuable thing, and finally pulled up the matrices to his bed, revealing, not surprisingly, a row of nooks and crevices perfect for hiding small boxes and other valuable things. “Right by your heart,” she said, placing the box in a middle crevice, approximately under his chest, when he would lie on the bed. “Your bed has this too?” Simon asked. River nodded. “You should hide your rings,” he told her, reaching to the wall and pulling a nick-nack pot off his shelf so she could put her ring of gold and jewels as well as her ring of plain wood in it. “You don’t want to lose them.” River smiled up at him, “Lost enough.” “Yeah,” he said, watching her carefully put the two bands in the pot. The walked over to River’s room and placed the small pot in her bed smuggling nooks. She put them further up, closer to her head, so she could dream about them. “Come on, Mei mei,” Simon said, running his hand down his sister’s soft hair as he turned and started walking towards the kitchen. “They’re probably waiting for us.” He didn’t even get to the stairs when her voice, colored ever so slightly with fear stopped him, “Simon.” “What?” he asked, turning around.

“When all that was comes to an end And you seem lost in darkest night, The stars see fit your wounds to mend, Your hurts to heal, your wrongs to right. Good grace and mercy will not rend From your heart the hope of light To blind the pain and shine again Upon the path of your long flight. Hearth and home are out of view And every days calamity, Yet love, despite the darkness true, Blooms even in uncertainty: Cold space made warmer by the hue Of flowers on Serenity.” She told him, as he stood, one hand on the stair rail, frozen and transfixed. “River,” he said after a second, stepping away from the stairs and towards her. “I think that was the most beautiful poem I’ve ever heard.” She smiled her sheepish little sister smile, his favorite smile in all the ‘verse. “It’s you.” “You wrote it for me?” “No,” River said. “It is you. Don’t forget.” With that she started walking forward, and, as she passed him, said. “I’ll tell them we can start without you.” Simon shook his head and exhaled sharply, pivoting to follow his sister. That afternoon at lunch, Simon couldn’t help but wonder what Kaylee’s hands would look like if she ever wore a ring. * * * The End

Epilog Dear Governor Comworth, Sir, I’m just writing to let you know what’s going on out here far away from home, like you asked when we meet after that tour I took of your villa. I know you get lots of mail, and got lots of people you’ve gotta meet with and stuff you’ve gotta get done so I ain’t gonna write you a long letter, just enough to let you know everything’s all right. And it is. We left Newhope without a hitch and are pretty much planet jumping right now. That’s what we do, jump from planet to planet looking for work. It can be pretty dull sometimes, but the ship’s doctor’s been keeping me company – or I’ve been keeping company with him, however you want to see it. Either way time don’t seem nearly so slow as it used to. Over all, I think he’s been laughing a lot more than he was. I feel kinda bad saying all that happened on Newhope was, you know, good for him, but he’s seeming more him than he’s ever seemed before, if that makes any sense. And Yao , the little girl what was there in your office with you and me and the doctor, you know. Well, she’s doing as good as I’ve known her to do. A lot happened for her too, on Newhope, some of it might have made her a little better, I don’t know. But she’s smiling a lot, which is nice, and she ain’t shot nor stabbed anyone, and that’s nice too. So that’s what’s what. We plan to land in about six days, so I hear, and maybe get a job and maybe something interesting, something worth writing about, will happen. But till then it’s just nice and quiet days filled with talking and playing. And I guess that’s all there is to say. Don’t worry bout writing me back, I know you’re busy. Yours Truly Kaywinnith Lee Frye

p.s. I ain’t told anyone about these letters, though I almost let it slip a thousand times. I don’t know if I should or not. I know the doc would want to tell you a few things but the captain might think it wasn’t right, me talking to you so open. Got any advice?

My Dearest Miss Frye, I was delighted with your last letter, and so soon too! I can see that you will be a delightful and dedicated correspondent, which brings me no end of pleasure. I am also glad that your life, and those of your shipmates, has returned to a normal and somewhat dull routine. I’ve lived long enough to know that routine is essential for a happy life. If your life is littered with adventures, you never have time to be content, only exhausted. It is very encouraging to hear that you and the doctor are spending a good deal of time together, I suspect that it is good for both of you. He is a very caring boy, but he needs to be drawn out of his shell. I have a feeling that you might be just the girl to do it. I eagerly await any reports you care to send on this topic. Although I don’t expect many, for we both know I am a stodgy old man. As far as your concerns regarding whom to tell about our discourse, I give you permission to tell anyone you think appropriate. I met your captain but briefly, still, it seems to me that he would understand why we are conversing – but I submit to the vastness of your experience. As far as the doctor and little Yao are concerned, feel free to tell them, by all means. I would be glad of any message they would want to send. All is well here. My granddaughter Genie is doing well. I recently informed her that I would not be sending her to the Core, as we previously discussed, which is an endless source of joy for her. She loves Newhope, more than I do, I think. I wonder why I ever thought that I should make her leave it. My houseguests, the Tams, have returned safely to their home on Osiris. I remember you took a special interest in them and they in you, so if anything of import happens in their lives I will be sure to tell you of it. I look forward to our next correspondence. Rest assured that you and your shipmates are always in my prayers. Sincerely Yours Reginald Charles Comworth Gov. Of the Allied Planet of Newhope