Author's Notes (again): Takes place in the weeks following La Cienega Just Smiled (part two) Warnings from the previous La Cienega Just Smiled stories: Read with caution. There's some topical matter, namely who's paired with whom, that might be offensive. Feedback is always appreciated (kaylee@kikiroxxorz.com). This gorram story is growing exponentially—every time I write one chapter, another one follows it in my mind. It’s six stories long now. Any problems can be directed to my dear and fluffy muse, Ryan Adams. He sings, I write. "Now I hold you close in the back of my mind, feels so good, but damn, it makes me hurt I’m too scared to know how I feel about you now La cienega just smiles and says “I’ll see you ‘round.” Now I hold you close in the back of my mind Raise my glass cause either way I’m dead Neither of you really help me to sleep anymore One breaks my body and the other breaks my soul La cienega just smiles and waves goodbye." ~Ryan Adams, La Cienega Just Smiled

He wants to tell her. Every single morning he wakes up promising himself to tell her. This almost makes me feel bad—but his boob-like nature deters the guilt. He will never tell her. Eventually he won’t need to. There are dreams, but they will go away in favour of a human beach—sand-coloured hair and eyes like oceans—beauty he never cared to notice before.

***

Mal thanks Shepherd Book’s God every night that no one is getting hurt or sick. It’s like walking on eggshells with the doc all addlepated over Kaylee. The thought almost makes him smile—usually; it’s the other way around. Speaking of Kaylee, Mal hasn’t seen much of her the past couple weeks since she and the doc broke it off. He wonders about it, thoughts and theories crowdin’ up his thinkin’ a bit, but in the end, he writes it off as nothing.

***

I am considering leaving Serenity. For seventeen days, I have written and rewritten the scene in my head. It always ends the same way—with Kaylee realizing that breathing room was not, in fact, something she needed. In these past seventeen days, River has been spending an unusually large number of her waking hours with Kaylee. It makes my investigative brain curious, and the only reason I don’t investigate further is because her behaviour patterns have changed; too—she seems almost…normal, though I hate the word, and during the night, nightmares are less and less frequent—two in as many weeks. This is why it does not occur to me that I should push further.

***

“Kaylee,” she whispers, then waits for my eyes to open and adjust to the dim light. Waits for passage into my bed, I s’pose. For the past ten nights, not countin’ the first one, she’s been doin’ this. We ain’t sweeties—not really. Most she’s done is kiss the top of my head when she was convinced I was asleep. But there’s somethin’ about sharin’ my bed with River that makes me feel…light. Like a cat curled up by the fire. Like music. Like…freedom. She does have one rule, though. She can’t ever spend the whole night with me. Simon’d ask questions, and God knows he don’t need to go formulatin’ opinions on stuff he really can’t see inside of. The next time I wake up, the light feels like surgery on my eyes, and the voice saying my name is deeper, and panicked. “Kaylee, where…River? What are you doing here?”