(Notes and disclaimers with Part One)

******

The holiday mood was getting to someone else, too. Jayne had found his way back to the dockside market area, where he'd run into Kaylee and River, and rudely brushed off their pleas to come back with them to the ship. No rutting way was he gonna get shanghaied into helping with all the Christmas doin's, no matter how prettily anyone asked. He wasn't about to cross that line--bad enough he had agreed to take part at all. Having to spend his hard-earned cash on other people was about as far as he'd go, which was a big enough sacrifice in his book.

So he skulked around the edges of the market, trying to fit his mind around the concept of gift-giving. Of giving gifts that meant something to a person--that was supposed to be the point, near as he could figure. But it was giving him a whole lot of uncomfortableness. So was contemplating how they were going to get the whole crazy thing past Mal without some serious fallout.

Then he spotted a place whose wares were right in line with his own tastes--simple, practical, and cheap. He was in and out in ten minutes, with money to spare, and eight items all crammed into one big bag, feeling mighty impressed with himself. Now he could sneak his way back onto Serenity, dump the stuff in his bunk, avoid his shipmates, and head on out for some real fun in town.

Naturally, he ran into a slight complication. As he was crossing into the main roadway back to their docking point, he saw Mal. The captain was just standing there by the roadside, still in a way that gave Jayne a cold shiver. His face had the look of a man collating some serious data.

Jayne did the math--Mal must've left the ship before the others had returned. He'd have had no clue about what they were up to, and apparently was just figuring out why the town was all prettied up. Cap'n was slow on the uptake only once in great while...but he was sure as hell puttin' two and two together now.

Instinct set Jayne to moving mere seconds before the captain did. He cut a rapid swath through the remnant of the holiday crowds, turning once to be sure he was still ahead of Mal. The lack of Christmas on Serenity had never bothered him before, and he couldn't fathom why he suddenly felt it was so all-fired important now. It just--was, and captain or not, Mal had no cause to take it away from his crew.

The cargo bay was empty when he came charging in, but he heard laughter from through the aft hatch. He took a breath and hollered, "Preacher!"

Book appeared at the hatch, Kaylee and River close up behind him, their hands full of garlands and greenery.

Jayne grinned at them, kinda liking the special way he was feeling at the moment. This wasn't only about putting one over on Mal. It was all about being part of the crew. "Better get out them big guns o' faith, Preacher. Captain's on the way."

******

Among his afternoon prayers at the local chapel, Book had included a plea for strength, wit, and above all, patience for his anticipated confrontation with the captain. He didn't mind acting as the crew's advocate, and he knew that if it came down to it they would, for the most part, back him up. But a little bit of praying never hurt.

Jayne was practically bouncing up and down on his toes, looking terribly pleased with himself. "He's gonna be here any second, and he was lookin' mighty unhappy. He knows you're all up t' something."

Book nodded. He had hoped Mal would stay away from the ship for a while longer, but at least they'd had a chance to start some of their preparations for the morning. "Thanks, son. I think it might be best if you disappeared for a while."

"Yeah, but--"

"Just go on now." He'd found a mild tone and certain look usually worked better with Jayne than any other approach.

"Aw, hell." With a disappointed frown, the big man turned away and stomped up the stairs to the foredeck. "I always miss out on the fun."

Kaylee plucked nervously at Book's sleeve. She was a bit distressed, as if having second thoughts. "Preacher, you sure this is gonna be okay? It ain't worth getting you in trouble with the captain."

"Don't either of you fret, sweetheart," he said soothingly. "Things will be fine." He gave both girls a gentle push back down into the common area, which they had started transforming into a little piece of Christmas joy. "Just go on with your work."

They went, glancing back at him anxiously. Simon looked up from moving furniture, and smiled faintly. "Good luck."

"Thank you." Book rubbed his hands together, and threw his shoulders back. This was nothing like some of the challenges he'd faced in his former life, but it was going to be difficult enough. Malcolm Reynolds was a very stubborn man.

But so was the Shepherd known as Book. He heard loud, rapid footsteps echoing across the bay floor, and stepped quickly through the hatch, taking a stance just under the rear catwalk, effectively blocking the way into the commons. He took a deep breath and waited.

Mal saw him, and deliberately slowed his pace so he came to halt just a few feet away. He stood tall, hands resting on his gun belt. "Preacher."

Book had heard that tone from him more than once--not yet dangerous, but getting there. He answered readily. "Captain."

"Think you and me need to have a little chat."

"I'm always available to listen, Captain. It's what I do."

Mal made no move forward, but shifted sideways to peer over Book's shoulder toward the common area. From that angle, he had a clear view of the space between the infirmary door and the back wall, which was now hung with red, green and gold paper lanterns. He glanced back at Book, his eyes narrowed. "What you do, Preacher, is stir up no end of trouble. I imagine this was mostly your idea, and I suspect that someone might've brought up the fact that it wasn't a particularly good one."

"Yes, there was some mention of that," Book said calmly. "But it was also mentioned that since we're on leave, there shouldn't be any reason not to hold a small celebration in honor of the season."

"And what season would that be?" Mal asked in an insolent drawl.

Book felt a surge of pity for this man so lost to his inner demons. "A season already old when it came with humankind to the stars, one that changed yet stayed the same over the long centuries. For most folk, it's time of hope, of promise and renewal. For some, it will always have a deeper, truer meaning--"

"Not on my boat!"

"--but no matter what anyone believes or not, it will always be about the spirit of giving, and sharing, and above all, a time for thankfulness."

Mal turned away, but not before Book saw the flash of pain in his eyes. "If anyone deserves the chance to celebrate the fact that they're still together, and still alive, I'd say it was this crew, Captain."

"You talked 'em into this, didn't you?" he asked, his voice cold. His hands tightened on his belt so hard the leather creaked. "When did you all plan to have this little shindig? While I was sleeping?"

Book had spent years learning to react calmly in the face of such bitterness and anger. "I simply made a suggestion," he replied patiently. "They each came to their own decisions, then agreed to celebrate together tomorrow morning."

Taking a step back, Mal shook his head in frustrated bewilderment. When he looked up at Book, some of the anger had faded. "Yeah, but somebody coulda at least asked me!"

"You would have said no," a ringing voice came from above.

Both men looked up, startled. Zoe stood on the stairs to their left, Wash just behind her, their expressions inscrutable. Further up, despite Book's suggestion, Jayne was watching too, leaning eagerly over the railing to catch every word.

The captain stared up in disbelief, then swung his gaze down, to where Simon, Kaylee and River were now in sight on the landing inside the aft hatch, watching anxiously. Behind them, Inara appeared, laying a supportive hand on Kaylee's shoulder, returning Mal's stunned look with cool hauteur.

He scowled, and faced the Shepherd. "I can still say no," he said, dropping his voice so the others wouldn't hear.

Book took a step closer, curling one side of his mouth in a manner he had perfected many years before, but had never yet used in the presence of this man he had come to admire in so many unexpected ways. "Say it then," he pressed softly. "Be the one to tell those children back there that after all they've been through lately, they can't have Christmas."

Mal's jaw dropped, and he blinked in astonishment. "I--you--" He drew back, crossing his arms, his face going hard. "Preacher, you have got a lowdown, dirty mean streak in you. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Why, yes," he replied, letting his half-smile turn pleasant. "The brothers at the Abbey remarked on it often." Which was the gospel truth, Book recalled ruefully. "They said it was my worst failing."

"I bet." Mal glanced around at the members of his crew, his resentful gaze meeting only the same firm resolution, even from Jayne. He looked back at Book. "There's a word for this, you know."

"Solidarity?"

"Mutiny." But it was said with resignation, and disappointment. Pain surfaced briefly in his eyes again. "Fine," he announced at last. "You have your Christmas." Raising his head, and his voice, he went on. "You do this thing, and when it's done, we'll be off this rock a heartbeat later. Being dirtside seems to make you all go just a little crazy, and I ain't having that."

He turned on his heel and walked away. Wisely, the crew remained silent, as he reached the far stairway and climbed topside with loud, angry steps.

Jayne made quick tracks in the other direction. Breathing deeply, Book turned back to the young folks, while Zoe and Wash came down the steps to join them. As Kaylee took the Shepherd's hand, he smiled, offering up a silent prayer of thanks for what they had accomplished, and one of repentance for the manner in which he had done it.

******

He'd had the last word, decreed a fitting punishment so his crew would remember who was captain of this boat, and made a dignified exit. So why did it feel like he was in retreat?

I never back down from a fight.

Yes, you do. You do all the time!

No, all he'd done this time was make a strategic withdrawal. Straight up to the bridge, as far from his crew as he could get without leaving the ship. Distance was required right now, and he'd maintain it as long as he had to. Chances were good that nobody would even speak to him for a couple of days anyway, which was just fine. No talking was needed to get Serenity back in the sky, they all knew the drill.

Get this little act of rebellion out of their systems, then everything would be back to normal. The devious ways of Shepherd Book might require a little extra watchfulness, that was all.

Mal leaned back in the pilot's chair, absently running his fingers along the console. He tried not to let his gaze wander out through the window, where twilight was settling over Bountytown, and the Christmas lights hanging everywhere were starting to shine.

Out there, in here...he was surrounded by it. But it wasn't going to get inside him. He wouldn't let it, not after all these years of disavowal. The spirit of the season had no claim on Malcolm Reynolds, not ever again.

Not ever...

The lights were getting brighter. He swivelled the chair around, but their reflections still glimmered from every metallic surface of the bridge. Bright as fire, raining down from the sky...

Mal shut his eyes, feeling his insides knotting up as memories rose from deep in his mind, unbidden, unwanted.

***

Fire pouring from the sky, Bendis fallen dead beside him. Zoe screaming his name, throwing him to the ground as bullets and energy beams shot through the air. The roar of countless ships overhead, and he knew, he knew without doubt that it must have been the same on Shadow, though no soldiers had died by the thousands there, just folks, just ordinary people....

Momma watching him drive a fence post into the dusty ground, pounding it over and over, asking him if he had something on his mind.

"No, Momma."

She'd known better. "Had a fight with Rafe, didn't you, son? Murdering that post ain't gonna make it any better--you best go apologize."

"But--he was wrong!" He'd been full of a twelve-year-old's righteous indignation. "Why should I say sorry?"

"Because it's the right thing to do." And she'd snatched the mallet right out of his hand quick as lightning. "I'm not raising you to be a stubborn fool, Malcolm. Now get."

Growing older, trying to be wiser, to see things more clearly as she did. But the stubbornness came from her, and was already bred too deeply in him....

The drill sergeant studying him, as he stood tall, though he was ready to collapse like some of the others already had, after two days of survival training. Grinning through the sweat and grime on his face, feeling ready to puke, but asking why they couldn't stay out another day.

"Well, you sure are a stubborn one, ain't you, boy," the sergeant drawled. "Attitude like that, you might just live through this gorram war..."

Zoe staring at him with wide eyes as they crouched in a bomb crater, shrapnel and debris flying all around. She was as tough, maybe tougher, as any girl her age who'd had a hard life, but it was her first time out on night patrol, and it was getting to her.

Yet she never faltered, as they ran and dodged back behind their lines. Only blinked when she'd seen he'd taken a stray hit, and never mentioned it. Third time she'd seen him hurt in a month, but she cleaned and wrapped the wound for him with her hands shaking only a little. Smiled shyly when he joked that she'd done it too tight, then finally saying something to him beyond her usual unwavering "Yes, sir."

"You're just too stubborn to die, aren't you, sir?"

He'd never answered that, not in words....

Going home, three days' leave before the next big campaign, confidence still high among the Independent brass, even after the long years of fighting.

Shadow had sent many sons and daughters to the war, but was still mostly untouched by conflict. It seemed unreal, to be back and find things for the most part unchanged. So he tried to appreciate it all the more, and feel truly a part of what was going on around him.

Filching fresh-baked cookies from the kitchen, like he used to. Hanging lights from the porch roof, the task they'd saved for him. Taking the reins for the midnight drive into town, sitting in church with Momma, Jess and Lily. Listening to Preacher Matthews read the words of the glorious old story, singing the songs still remembered from Earth-that-was, proclaiming all was calm, all was bright.

Saying good-bye, with promises it would all be over soon. Meeting up with the platoon at Athens base, shipping out to Hera before the new year had even turned.

Getting the news two months later, more than a month late, that the Alliance had hit Shadow, for no other reason than that they could. Ravaged and burned it, all for a show of power.

Holding stubbornly to hope, that something still lived on there, holding Serenity Valley despite the odds, in defiance of the enemy's boast. Not believing it, unable to comprehend it, weeks after, when the same power was turned on Hera, the whole might of the Alliance bearing down on one planet, raining fire from the sky to burn the last hope of the Independent cause to ashes.

Begging God for one last favor, for one small bit of mercy, that there was something to go home for. Learning how to live with a soul torn to pieces, hope and trust and faith dying all at once. Forsaking the past and what he'd been, becoming someone new and different yet somehow still the same. Building a new life, and finding Serenity....

***

He came back to himself with his head in his hands, feeling worn and beaten. It had been a good while since he'd been so overwhelmed by what was long past and gone, outside of nightmares.

Wasn't nobody's fault that it had happened now, just bitter and strange coincidence that had set them down during a favorable spell on a free and easy world at this time of year. Couldn't blame his crew for having a need he didn't, or Zoe for sticking with them. Hell, he couldn't even be all that mad at Book, for being such a clever, godly son of a bitch.

Mal scrubbed wearily at his face. He'd let them have this, but he was going to hold firm to his promise of cutting the leave time short. He could recognize his own need to be in control of whatever he could within his power.

He also suspected, that having given him some breathing room, some amongst his crew might try persuade him to be a part of their little celebration. It was well within his power to avoid that prospect--he wasn't going to be nobody's mission of peace and goodwill.

Right now he'd prefer to face the inevitability of Christmas out in the town there, rather than its immediacy on Serenity. Time for him to be gone.

He grabbed his coat and gloves from where he'd tossed them on the copilot's chair, then ducked down the narrow gangway to the upper hold, treading with care down the steps to the lower bay. Best he just go on out without risking an encounter with anyone. It was likely he wouldn't yet be able to respond to civil words with any politeness.

"Cap?"

He'd scarcely made it to the hatch. Why couldn't this have been easy? He didn't turn, simply glancing over his shoulder at Kaylee, not trusting himself to say a thing.

She was on the starboard stairway, watching him, biting her lip nervously. "Ain't you coming to supper, Cap? We fixed up something extra special, and we didn't start yet."

Well, at least Book hadn't been lying about that. "I'm going out," he said firmly. "I don't know when I'm coming back."

"But, Captain..." she tried again, her voice wavering.

Something snapped in him. "Kaywinnit Lee Frye, don't even think you're gonna get 'round me with them puppy-dog eyes. I am captain of this boat, and at this moment, I am leaving it." He heard a scrape of metal from above and spun around, pointing angrily at Kaylee's accomplice. "That goes for you too, baby sis!" he said to River, crouched by the railing and staring at him forlornly. "Beat it!"

The poor girl leapt to her feet and retreated topside, running like a frightened rabbit. Kaylee held her ground, glaring at him, even though she looked near to crying. "You-you are a monster!" she spat, then fled up the stairs quick as she could.

"Oh, son of a--" He rammed a fist against the hard metal of the ramp. How could he go and lose it and take it out on those two little girls? If he tried to go after them and make it up, he'd only make it worse.

Feeling ten kinds of miserable, he hauled open the hatch. When he turned to close it, he saw Inara emerge from the shadows under the stairs where Kaylee had been standing. From the scandalized look on her face, she must have witnessed the whole sorry episode.

Gorramit, he could not deal with her acting as his conscience yet again. "Well," he snarled, "you got something to say to me?"

Her expression went blank. "No," she coldly. "Not one word." She turned her back on him and walked smoothly away.

His heart felt like a jagged piece of rock pressing down on his chest, and for a second he couldn't even breathe. Then he went out into the night, letting the door to Serenity shut heavily behind him, feeling like the lowest piece of scum in the 'verse.

******

After much comfort and cajoling from Inara, Book and Simon, Kaylee and River were finally persuaded to join the others for a very subdued supper. With the leave cut short, Wash and Zoe had chosen to give up their night out, and maintain a united front with the rest of the crew.

No one spoke about what had happened, and no one suggested that they abandon their plans for the next day. They were all keenly aware, without anyone saying it aloud, that they'd known what the consequences of their actions would be. The captain was mightily displeased, they would pay for it with the early departure from Tarquin, and life would go on, with none of it ever being mentioned again. That was the way it was.

There was something else weighing heavily on them, and it was Simon who finally had the courage to voice it out loud.

"Zoe, why does the captain have such strong feelings against Christmas? It's because of something that happened during the war, isn't it?"

The hush which had accompanied their meal so far deepened tangibly. Zoe stopped eating, and stared at Simon across the table. At her side, Wash looked on worriedly. The others waited just as tensely, wondering if she'd give the doctor an answer.

Simon continued to meet her stony gaze readily. After several long seconds, Zoe sighed, evidently fighting some inner conflict. "Yes," she said at last. "Mal's last leave home before the end of the war was at Christmas. And when the war was over, he didn't have a home to go back to."

No one said a word. Kaylee and Inara went pale, while River frowned uncertainly. Simon finally averted his gaze, as if ashamed for asking the question. Book's mouth set into a firm line, as he shook his head regretfully. Jayne's face twisted up in thought, then he shrugged and started eating again.

Wash let out a heavy sigh, and put a hand on her arm. "Zoe--"

"It's okay," she murmured, leaning against him gratefully for a second. "I guess you all had some right to know," she went on. "But that's the last I'll speak of it, and I'm asking that it never be spoken of on this boat again."

They all made quiet sounds of assent, though in Jayne's case it was more like a grunt. The meal was finished in silence, broken only when they began to clear the table, quietly discussing what still needed to be done for the party.

When the cleaning up was almost done, with everyone pitching in, Simon discreetly ushered Kaylee aside.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked, taking her hands in his. After she and River had come flying into the galley, both on the verge of tears, he'd had a hard time supressing the urge to chase after Mal and punch him out. Though at the time, it had looked like Zoe and Inara might be willing to beat him to it. Even now, after hearing what Zoe had to say, he still felt Mal had gone too far with his anger and resentment.

"Yeah, I'm all right now," Kaylee said, running her thumb shyly over the back of his hand. "Captain's just got his ways, is all. He's yelled at me before--but I wish he hadn't been so mean to your sister."

"He had no call to yell at either of you, that bu mingan liumang," he said gallantly, squeezing her hand gently, then letting go. "I'm going to get River tucked into bed early. We all had a big day, and I want to be sure she'll be feeling all right for tomorrow."

Kaylee nodded, smiling with determination. "We're gonna have a nice Christmas, no matter what."

He couldn't help but smile back at her, thinking more unkind things about the captain for treating her and River so shamefully. "Of course we will," he agreed. Then, because the moment seemed to call for it, he threw caution to the winds and bent to kiss her quickly on the cheek.

"Oh!" She stared at him in wonderment, putting her hand to the spot his lips had touched.

Before she could react further, Simon backed away, smiling so she'd know he wasn't too embarrassed by his own boldness. He went after River, and led her away to the aft stairs, hastily bidding everyone good night.

In a daze, Kaylee wandered happily out the other hatch to her quarters, unaware of the surreptitious scrutiny of her elders. When she was out of sight, Jayne let loose with a loud snicker.

"Aww, ain't they just too cute?"

Zoe whipped around and smacked him hard on the arm. "For that, you can move your ass downstairs and finish hanging those Christmas lights."

"The hell I will!" he protested. "The night's still young, and there's a whole town full of opportunities out there waitin' for me." He threw the dish towel he'd been using at Wash, and strode out of the kitchen. "I'll see all you happy people in the morning," he called back over his shoulder.

"Jerk," Wash muttered, hanging up the towel. "Don't worry, babe, I'll take care of the lights."

"I'll give you a hand," Book said, putting away the last of the dried dishes. "Then I think I'll turn in. Good night, ladies." They went out together, leaving Zoe and Inara to the last of the tidying up.

"It was very brave of you to answer Simon's question," Inara said, after a few minutes of silence.

Zoe shrugged. "Had to be done, I guess. An understanding was needed."

"Do you think he'll try something in the morning?" the Companion asked, gazing off into the distance, as if conjuring up an image of the captain for herself.

"Doubt it. He's already said how it's to be, and I don't think he'll go back on that." Zoe sighed deeply. "He is going to be a pain in the ass to live with for a couple of days, though."

Inara smiled with fond resignation. "When is he not? I just wish..." She shook her head, unable to finish the thought. She untied the towel she'd been wearing as an apron, and carefully smoothed the folds of her dress. "I have to finish wrapping presents. Good night, Zoe."

"Good night."

Left alone as quiet settled over the ship, Zoe poured herself a cup of coffee, then took a seat in the lounge, contemplating the day's events. She owed her life and loyalty to Malcolm Reynolds a thousand times over, but didn't truly feel that she had betrayed a confidence by sharing her knowledge with the rest of the crew. Mal had never spoken to her directly about that final leave; she knew of it only as one terrible event of many from those last months of the war.

She wasn't sorry that Wash had convinced her to take part in the crew's bold move, and didn't regret that she had stood up to Mal about it when Book had taken him to task. Sometimes, a line had to be drawn, and a person had to decid which side to stand on. Maybe it was time someone reminded Mal of that, and maybe she was the one to do it.

"Zoe?"

Wash was leaning through the forward hatchway, concern etched on his face. She hated seeing his usual affable, lovable expression overcome by worries, hated it more that it wasn't an uncommon occurance.

"You coming to bed, sweetie?" he asked.

"Soon, dear," she assured him. "Got some thinking to do."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Thinking about waiting up for Mal, by any chance?"

She couldn't detect any jealousy in his voice, but she answered evasively. "Maybe."

Her dear, sweet husband simply nodded. "Give him hell, babe." He blew her a kiss and headed off for their bunk.

Zoe leaned back, taking a sip of coffee. It might be a long night, considering that Mal might not even come back, choosing to stay away till his crew was done with Christmas. That would be just like him, she thought with fond exasperation.

But she'd learned a thing or two about mule-headedness from Malcolm Reynolds, and settled down for a wait as long as it needed to be.

******

Considering the sorry state he had left things in, Mal had only the faintest hope that returning to the ship would be easier than his abrupt departure.

His own state of emotional turmoil had eased somewhat, though he was still feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, all skittery and on edge. Part of it was being away from Serenity for too long, part of it was dread at getting through the next ten hours or so. It was akin to being on the eve of battle, though his intention was not to fight with his crew. He wasn't going to give in. They wouldn't either. It would just be a matter of moving on past this regretable stalemate.

It was just past midnight when he boarded Serenity. All seemed peaceful and still as he locked her down for the remainder of the night. By the glow of the low power night lights, he moved quietly through the ship, taking care of a few things that needed doing. He finished up in the galley, then decided it was time to turn in. He'd had enough of this day.

"Sir?"

He must have jumped a good foot in the air. "What the hell--" Stumbling around to regain his balance, he peered behind him into the shadows. "Zoe?" Of all the people he might have expected to be waiting in ambush for him, it wasn't his first mate.

She rose up from a chair in the lounge, stretching her shoulders languidly. "Had yourself a good time out on the town tonight, sir?" she asked, her tone deceptively pleasant.

He gave her an intimidating glare, not easy in the dim light. "What the hell are you doing here? Thought you and Wash were spending the night off the ship."

"Changed our minds," she said. "Didn't seem much point in it, considering."

So, he had to deal with the guilt of that now, too? Rutting hell. "That's your own business," he said, indignation burning in his throat. "And don't even think about me changing mine, dong-ma?"

She took a step closer, and he could see only the usual steadfastness on her face. "That's your business, sir," she replied, her voice betraying her displeasure with him as she walked on by toward the foredeck.

"Zoe..." It came out as more of a plea than he wanted it to.

She glanced back.

He rubbed a hand against his forehead, feeling lost and confused as he slumped against the counter. "Why--how did this happen? I didn't--I thought you'd be the one to back me up, who'd understand."

"I understand, Mal," she said softly. "I always do. We've all got burdens to carry on this boat--our own, and sometimes each other's. But you can't expect any of us to carry this particular burden for you, 'cause it just ain't right. And sometimes, you just have to know when it's time to let a thing go."

His throat closed up tight as he realized the hard truth of her words, shaming him. There was only so much a captain could expect from a crew, that a man could demand from his friends. Sometimes, if a thing wasn't given freely, it wasn't worth the having.

Giving and sharing, Book had said. A time for being thankful, for being part of something bigger than your own self. Could you lose a family, be lucky enough to gain another, and not know how to be grateful, because you were too fearful of losing everything all over again?

Zoe was watching him, waiting. But there was nothing he could say to her, and finally she turned away and left him.

Mal stood there a while longer, wishing the quiet of Serenity could seep down inside him again, and take away some of the hurt. Finally, he pushed away from the counter, and walked with heavy steps to his bunk, with too many things to ponder. The only thing he knew for certain was that sleep was going to be a hard commodity for him to come by.

******

Conclusion