Zoe and River made their way silently and rapidly through the darkened concrete stairwells and utility tunnels of the stadium, heavily armed, searching for the main ventilation access panel and hoping to avoid any wandering security and maintenance personnel. The unused areas of the massive coliseum felt strangely peaceful.

Zoe checked the tiny communicator in her ear for the ninth time, all too aware of the million things that could go wrong with their shaky rescue plan. She noticed she could no longer hear River's footsteps behind her, and turned. River was standing with her body pressed against a huge metal panel in the wall of the arena, her hands exploring it as though it was an animate object. _______________________________________________________________________

River's eyes closed as she listened and felt the music streaming through her body. A woman's voice, the music peaceful and sad, but somehow uplifting and comforting all at once. The words a blur, irrelevant.

She saw a vast arena, the thousands of people in the audience barely skimming her consciousness. Carpeted floors....maroon carpet with a gold pattern. Blood won't show. A bizarre attempt to distract from the brutality of the spectacle. Patterns, pictures flowing through her mind with the music. An image fades into view, distant, hazy, unmistakable. She gave a low moan, her body shaking at their pain, her eyes closing, the image refusing go away.

The woman's voice was low and soft, comforting her as her gaze flowed upwards to the head and chest of a familiar figure, a friend. Rumpled blond hair, cheerful, kind face. Wash. Unconscious, his head limp. Tears formed in her eyes, yet she relaxed as the vision played in front of her, showing an oddly contented expression on the young pilot's face. Somehow, he was at peace. She felt the urge to wrap him in her arms, to hold him and shelter him.

Knees. What were they doing there? The very edge of a burly arm. Angry. Hurt. Anger covering for fear. Can't see him, but he's there. Jayne.

The music continues, powerful, heartbreaking as her eyes search the haze, finding Mal's face in the chaos. Prone, on a table. She can't see, blocks it out, doesn't want to look. His expression is sad and hurt and brave. She stares into deep blue eyes, tears blurring her vision, reading the emotions written so clearly on his face. He's in pain and deeply worried about his crew, but there's no fear in his eyes, just determination and weariness.

He's waiting for us. He thinks he's killed us all.

River let out a sob, whispering. "He's so sad." She sank to her knees, unconscious of her surroundings, crumpling under the trembling exhaustion that invaded every fiber of Mal's body. Don't make me hear him scream. The tempo of the song increases, bringing a sense of strength, of hope.

She sees just the edge of a silk robe as an elegantly dressed arm moves into view, and Mal's eyes widen. Inara. The music continues to play as she moves past, inconspicuously slipping a white pill into Mal's mouth. As she moves away, so does the image, moving off into a dark blur.

River was laying on her side, her hands pressed against the metal, sobbing. The music fades to black, to silence, but she doesn't want to let go. She wants to be with them even though it hurts.

"Don't go away," she cried, not feeling Zoe's hand shaking her arm.