Three days had passed since the Alliance transports abandoned Grey and just over one hundred men and women of the Allied Planets Military Forces in the trenches of Serenity Valley to conduct surrender negotiations. Several of the wounded didn't make it, including one kid fresh out of boot camp. He was three weeks shy of 19 and the only one, it seemed, on the entire planet that was younger than Grey. He held the kid's hand as he passed. He used what of his empathy he could to ease the kid's passing, but it hit Grey hard. He didn't witness every death, but he sat with each of them that didn't survive, giving a quick prayer before seeing to a proper burial. He wished there was more he could for morale, but survival seemed hard enough. There was a small amount of supplies that had been left at Command when his superiors left. And while it added to the few supplies that had been gathered from each of the units, they wouldn't last forever. No matter how thin he sliced it, there'd be little more than three more days of food and water. And only one of medical supplies. Things were going to get messy. And fast. A knock came at the door of the room Grey had set up in.

"Yeah?" Grey pulled himself upright and started pulling on his knee-high boots.

"Sir, there's some trouble in the medical section."

"I'll be right there. Get Firs-"

"He's already there."

"Good. Go back and help." He grabbed his officer's cap and rang his right hand through his hair before slipping it on. He grabbed his pistol belt and put it on as he marched to the hangar cum medical bay. When he got there, he saw Sgt. Starkri standing over 2Lt. Mizuno as she tried to treat an Independent soldier. He couldn't hear the words at first, but he knew the tone. I feared this might become the last mistake Starkri ever made.

"Stop helping that Shitcoat filth and help the good guys, lieutenant! If you don't, you WILL live to regret it." He held his pistol out pointed at the solider. Mizuno looked up at the sergeant with more ferocity than her petite framed suggested she was capable of.

"This man is wounded. He is also the one in most need of immediate treatment. I am a doctor, and I took an oath to do no one harm. To treat your friend, who is in far less danger, would endanger this man. I can NOT allow such a thing."

"Either you leave him, or I'll shoot him! Then you can get back to treating honest soldiers, not these traitors!" Mizuno didn't move. A shot rang out. Starkri stood there shaking. Mizuno lay across the body of the wounded solider, her eyes wide open in shock. A dark red stain grew at the middle of her back. She didn't move. Jones reached for his gun when thunder ripped through the air and Starkri's torso exploded in a rain of gore and ichor. Grey stood across the bay, about 50 meters away, his massive prototype pistol drawn in his left hand, the barrel smoking. Everyone looked at him. His youth had vanished, replaced by something else. His skin seemed greyed, and his eyes were like steel. He holstered his pistol, turned and left without a word.

Without a doctor, many soldiers who might have survived, didn't. By the time the transports came back four days later, the food supply was no longer an issue. Of the 113 Allied Soldiers and 20 Independents that found their way to Allied Command, 52 Allied and 13 Independents left Serenity Valley. The transport flew over the valley, scanning for survivors. Grey, in the cockpit spotted what looked like a large gathering of Browncoat soldiers.

"Pilot. Land."

"Sir, I'm not authorized to pick up-"

"You will land or I will shoot you and land this thing myself. I have given you an order. You will follow it."

Sergeant Malcom Reynolds was stubbled, cut, and parched, as though he'd been stranded at sea after a terrible battle. A solider stirred behind him

"Does anybody hear that?"

He gradually focused on the sound of approaching engines, looking up and in the distance. He roused himself from his sitting position, and started crawling over to a soldier lying near him.

"Private." The private didn't respond. "Zoe. Signal flare."

Zoe rose painfully, beginning to understand. She looked as bad as Mal, but everyone did, or worse. The soldier who first spoke, did so again

"There. There! Do you see it? They're coming!" Zoe squinted into the dark sky.

"Whose colors?" The soldier walks beside her.

"It's a rescue ship, sir. They came." He responded, nearly crying. "They came..."

"Whose colors are they flying? Zoe said as she handed Mal the flare.

"Don't matter none. One side nor t'other... ain't no difference...Both of you pass the word, see who's still with us."

The transport landed soon after. The cargo doors opened and Grey walked out. It wasn't a gathering, but a mass grave. Roughly 500 bodies lay rotting in the wind. Just under 150 men stood, or were lifted, as Grey walked forward. One man in a long tan coat approached the lieutenant.

"I'm Sgt. Malcolm Reynolds. Are you here for surrender terms?"

"I'm First Lieutenant Jed Grey." He held out his hand, Reynolds took it. He's just a kid, he thought. How did he get to looking as old as I feel? "Not here for surrender. Apparently peace has already been reached. I'm just here to pick you up." Reynolds turned to a dark woman just behind him.

"Zoe, get 'em up. We're going home."