Chapter One. Nothing Lasts.

With each day that passed after Miranda, the mind-numbing, all consuming pain… began to lessen. Over time, Serenity was able to heal over fresh wounds, to mend over the ugly, gaping holes.

Inara stayed for a little while, just long enough to help with the grieving process, but being a Companion was at the fiber of being, and she couldn't stop for Mal's sake any more than the Captain could give up Serenity. Her departure was filled with teary goodbyes and promises to keep in touch. Kaylee cried. Mal stared off into the black, as if he didn't care too much. River watched her go with curious eyes. She sensed happiness in Inara. Relief.

Zoe wished the Companion a safe journey, though it never reflected in her eyes. River sometimes let herself dive into the mind of Zoe Washburn, especially when her own nightmares plagued her. Zoe's loss was devastating, but not just from losing her husband. The first mate caught her eye, and River did not look away.

No one had seen Zoe cry. Except for River. The months after Wash's death, there was something in Zoe that allowed her to stay strong, to keep going despite the loss of her entire world. River saw it in her, saw it in her eyes, heard it in her heartbeat. The third month went by, and River woke in her bed, gasping for breath. Her eyes wide, she bolted out of her room, tearing down the hall, up to the galley. Zoe was there, having just climbed out of her bunk, wearing only a soft blue night robe. In her trembling hands were blood-stained sheets. The once unshakable Zoe was falling apart in front of her. So much red. It was so bright, it blinded her. River inhaled sharply as Zoe looked to her. More blood was dripping onto the metal floor. A quieted, anguished cry left her mouth painfully as she sank down, folding into herself like a crumpled piece of paper. Serenity seemed to sink with grief. Zoe didn't speak. She never did on these kinds of things, but River knew.

River knew that Zoe had been able to carry on because she had been pregnant. Wash had known, too. They'd discovered it in the midst of the chaos of Miranda, and had never even gotten to celebrate. Wash had died knowing that they were bringing into this world a beautiful baby, and with that knowledge, Zoe had been able to face it all. Now that the baby was gone too, she was lost. This moment of pure devastation lasted only a moment, as Zoe struggled to right herself, River moved quickly, grabbing the sheets and folding them underneath her left arm before reaching for Zoe with her right. Together, they made their way to the infirmary. The elder woman was silent now, but tears still streamed down her face. River didn't say a word, but left her there on the table to fetch her brother.

Simon was easy to find – he was always in Kaylee's bunk. River climbed down the hatch, breaching the privacy of the two lovers. River was not embarrassed, but placed a hand on her brother's exposed shoulder. Simon woke with a start, also bringing Kaylee out of her own slumber. One look at River's somber face and he knew something was wrong. "Infirmary. Zoe needs you." Simon went to protest, but River retreated, visibly shaken, and was not seen for two days. She was in mourning.

Inara. Wash. Book. The baby. These losses shook Serenity and her crew at their very core. River sat on the floor of the bridge with her back to the entrance, Stegosaurus in one hand, T-Rex in the other. River's lips moved, her voice barely a whisper. "And we will call it…"

She heard his boots before she heard him. River acted as if she hadn't noticed his presence, but she could feel him deep in her bones. "How's my ship, little one?" he asked, taking his seat. If he was still jaded over Inara's departure the previous week, he didn't show it.

"Recovering," was her reply, not looking up. Mal couldn't help but notice how innocent she seemed, sprawled out on the floor, playing with dinosaurs. What he couldn't say was that there was anything childlike about her. Her nineteenth birthday had long gone, and it wasn't hard to ignore the way she was more of a woman than ever. He cleared his throat, and she looked up at him through that long curtain of dark hair.

"She wonders if this pain will ever leave her." River's words set a frown upon his face, and he leaned back, resting his boots against the edge of the console. It was clear Mal understood that River wasn't talking about the ship. It nearly frightened him how much he understood her riddles.

"Well, little albatross, you should know by about now that nothing lasts. We may feel like the objects around us are gonna be the objects around us forever, cos we can touch 'em, feel 'em, even hurt ourselves on 'em. They seem solid, an' real, and lord help me if I live to see the day this becomes the truth about Serenity," He tapped his boot on the edge of the console to prove his point. "But, if there's one thing I've learned in all of these years, it's that nothing lasts. Not even pain as sharp as this. Time dulls every ache, you take enough of it." His words soothed her, and she breathed a heavy sigh. She looked up, meeting his eyes with a piercing, knowing gaze. And he looked right back.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" River questioned.

"Not in the traditional sense, no," he explained. "Do I think Wash is on high somewhere lookin' down on us and makin' humorous remarks? I don't know. Sure is a nice thought, though."

River pursed her lips thoughtfully. "The Penrose Theory states that human consciousness comes from microtubules inside our brain cells that are responsible for quantum processing, and that a person's personality could be able to survive death and exist as a separate entity." She'd lost Mal at 'microtubules'. There was a small silence as he looked at her incredulously. River stared at her laces, away from Mal. Sadness filled her as she spoke:

"The silence that fills up the space where someone you love once was. That's a ghost. And they follow us everywhere, making our hearts heavy. But we carry them anyway. Until we let it take us home."

When they started taking jobs again, Simon no longer protested when River went along. Mal, River, Jayne, and Zoe took just about any job they could find, too. Oftentimes River was silent, only speaking up when she needed to. Though she'd displayed an incredibly amount of grace and skill fighting the Reavers, she did not take any weapons, nor did she fight when a job went a little sideways, as rarely as that happened. She simply danced about, gave warnings when needed, and made jokes with Jayne about how she could kill him with her brain. Sometimes they didn't realize how necessary she was, but everything had been working out in their favor ever since she started coming along. One day, as they returned to Serenity from a particularly close call, Zoe brought it to attention.

"Kinda eerie how well things seem to be goin' for us lately," she remarked, raising a brow to her captain, her face stone.

Jayne was quick to pitch in as they divided up the loot. "Yeah, ever since Moonbrain became a regular part of the job crew, we ain't had a lick a' trouble we couldn't see the other side of. I kinda miss when your plans would go sideways and I'd get to see some real action." Though it was good-natured, Mal did not seem too pleased.

"She's got a name, Jayne," he retorted back, "And are you two whining about not gettin' shot at? Because I can fix that, real quick like." River picked up a shiny piece of gold out of her bag, staring transfixed as if she'd never seen one before. A crease appeared between her brows, as she was seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were talking about her.

"Of course not, sir. Just not used to things going our way so much." Zoe's words were strong, steady, as always. Jayne shrugged it off. River disappeared from sight in the certain graceful way she had about her. Mal hadn't even noticed until he looked over to speak at her and she was gone.

There were a hundred places she could hide on the ship, but Mal found her in her favorite spot. In the kitchen pantry, top shelf corner. Her hair fell down off of the shelf as she lay on her side, just at head-height. "I ain't even rightly sure how you get up there, little one."

She turned to him, her eyes narrow. "I'm not a little!"

Her hostility was surprising. "Whoa there," he backpedaled, putting his hands up. "What's this about, then?" River squirmed in place, her eyes full of something Mal couldn't quite make sense of. Maybe frustration, maybe anger. Confusion, pain.

"It's always little. Little one. Little albatross. Little River. I know you don't see me as a little in your dreams," she said, and Mal's mouth dropped. He was speechless. River hopped down from the shelf, and he took a step away from her. When she noticed how he removed himself, her face fell again. "Then he becomes scared of the little weapon. When will this stop lasting? He said nothing lasts forever. Not a little. Not a weapon. Just a girl!" And then she bolted, leaving him without a single word to call after her.

Gorrammit. How did the ta ma de she know about that? Mal stood in the pantry, running a hand through his hair. He was a dirty, dirty old man and she knew it. Could he be blamed? Mal couldn't help but notice the woman she'd somehow turned into. He'd have to be blind not to. But his policy against on-ship relationships was firm, and even if Kaylee and Simon were going to openly go against it, it didn't give him the right to. Besides, he was too old for her, almost fifteen years her senior. He was too jaded, too mean, too everything. Too anything. Now I sound like River, he thought, finally emerging from the sparse pantry.

When it was time for lights out, the ache in his chest was ever present, even as he managed to drift off into a rough sleep. His nights consisted of two things: nightmares of Reavers, or dreams of River. Dreams of her weren't always of a sexual nature, either. Sometimes she was just dancing. He'd happened upon her practicing some form of fancy ballet a few times, and had never been able to shake the image. The lights playing against her dress, outlining her silhouette. The smile across her face. Other times, yes, she was keeping his bed warm. Those nights made him feel the worst. He would jolt awake, look about for some rhyme or reason for his torment, and take a cold shower. Somehow, she always seemed to cross his path immediately after, though she'd never even hinted at knowledge of the inner workings of his mind before.

Tonight, he was tormented another way. This time his dreams were disturbed by Reavers. Mal was tied down, his limbs frozen in space. They tore open his chest, ripped gaping holes that even the Doc couldn't patch up. He screamed aloud in his dreams, and rolled fitfully in his sleep. That night, something about the usual rape, torture, flesh-eating nightmare seemed different. The screams of his crew lessened, and another voice fluttered into his consciousness.

"Mal. Shhhhh, it's okay."

The pictures kept going, but everything was silent. He could see the Reaver's face as it continued to do unspeakable things to his flesh, but it was as if all of the sound had been sucked out. Her voice cut through the silence.

"This isn't real."

Mal took a deep breath, and the images of the monstrosity above him began to fade.

"Nothing lasts."

The Reavers dissolved into nothingness. Only she remained.

I wanted Malcolm to stop me. I wanted him to pull me into his arms and ask me to give up my life for him, to travel the universe with him. But as he looked away, I knew that would never happen. Not only that, I knew that we would be miserable together. You know, he never really said goodbye that second time. I knew that any future we might have had together was over. I loved him, truly. But that wasn't enough. It never was.

- Inara Serra.