Spoilers: Set post-Ariel Warning: NOT fluffy

Whereat I turned me round, and saw before me And underfoot a lake, that from the frost The semblance had of glass, and not of water. - "Inferno", Dante

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Cocytus

Jayne has finished dying.

There's still heat coming off his body, melting the snowflakes that land on his face, but soon enough he will freeze up like meat in the ice box.

A lump of white on the open plain.

They'll find him in a few weeks. Or maybe never.

River tugs the blanket more tightly around her shoulders and studies the pattern of blood in the snow. A dark hole of wet frozen soil, soaked with red. The color is hard to make out in the twilight.

Dusky white clouds reflect off the white landscape in a grey blue. Falling flakes cover up all signs of struggle.

There's a hush over everything.

Much better than before.

Sweat has dried on her forehead, under the cap. Beige is not a good color for her, but the season demands practicality.

The season demands pragmatism.

"Do you know what your sin is?"

She drags the knife through the snow, leaves trails of red, then she wipes it off on Jayne's sleeve. There's a shiver of wild-frantic panic running up her arm at the contact. A swirl of last thoughts. His Ma.

"I couldn't find a frozen lake," she informs him and starts walking back to the ship.

On the way she drops the knife.

The cap stays behind in a trash can six minutes from Serenity.

Her eyes are big and desperate when she stumbles into Simon's arms. She even cries a little.

"He wasn't anywhere."

The hot skin at his throat has her burrowing closer.

"Mei mei, you can't just run away," he soothes. "I was so worried."

No need to be worried any longer. River doesn't say it, because the Captain is close.

"Gorram it, I told him to hurry up with the whores." He stomps his cold feet on the ground and she watches the lumpy bits of snow falling off, mixing with the dirt.

They'll wait another twelve hours, she knows. Not longer. Medicine to sell. Alliance to stay ahead of.

Behold Dis, and behold the place where thou with fortitude must arm thyself.

Simon smoothes down her windblown hair and leads her back inside.

A safe place.

It's Christmas Eve.

- - - - END.