It had been Kaylee's idea to set up the speakers in the cargo bay. Inara had donated a few wall hangings to dampen the echoes. Captain Reynold's sole contribution to the idea had been an acidic notation that Serenity was a cargo ship, not a flying ballroom. With the speakers networked into the good doctor's encyclopedia, which had a good selection of classical music, it worked well enough in that capacity though.

So River danced, sometimes in Simon's arms, most times by herself.

And River laughed in joy.

And for however long it would last, River looked sane and whole.

Most of the crew took time out from whatever they were doing to watch her. The girl was a marvel. Not merely tracing the moves of steps she'd dutifully learned in finishing school, River was dancing, creating, improvising, moving and turning in ways that would make most humans look like clumsy chickens.

"She moves pretty," had been Jayne's summation.

Shepard Book kept his opinion to himself, but while everyone else came and went, he decided to stay and watch the performance for as long as it lasted.

As the hours wore on however, Simon had begun to look worried. River was dancing, but River didn't seem to want to stop dancing. There was an energy flowing through her that refused to fade, and though the good doctor softly said something about "manic phase", Book was sure the boy knew the true reason. Dancing tapped into the thin thread of sanity that remained in the girl's mind, and there was a terror deep within him that if she stopped now, she would lose that precious thread for good.

So she danced, barefoot over the panels and grids of the cargo bay floor.

So she danced, sweat pouring down over her, like holy water from a christening pitcher.

So she danced, bare feet growing raw, smiling, bare feet now bleeding, tracing precise, mathematical circles of red on the cargo bay floor.

Inara strode onto the upper catwalk, and raised a hand to her lips in dismay.

Kaylee came by to see, bit her lip, and began to cry.

Zoe and Wash walked in, saw, and reached for each other's hands unconciously.

And Jayne said, "Christ, ain't Doc Boy gonna give her a sedative or something?"

"We should stop her," Reynolds finally said.

"Do you want to be the one to turn off the music?" Book asked him, gesturing down towards the floor, where River danced, while Simon sat on a box looking miserable and tired. "She's found a safe harbor in the 'verse, for however long it lasts. Let's not take it from her."

"And what happens after?" Zoe asked.

"I expect she and Simon will both sleep for a good while," Book said.

"Least it'll be quiet then," Jayne said, scratching himself under the armpit.

And they left again, while Simon and Book remained, and River still danced. The young doctor was hunched on his box, legs crossed, chin held up by his hands, trying to keep himself awake, to bear witness to his sister's lonely torturous dance. Afraid to turn away, afraid to sleep, afraid to miss something that might lead her back on a path to full sanity.

Book climbed down the gangway to stand beside him, watching as River twirled to the music of Beetoven's Pastoral, her feet brown from encrusted blood.

"Simon, it's time for you to rest," he said.

The doctor shook his head, ducking his head so Book couldn't see his red-rimmed eyes. "Can't, I have to be here for her. She can't keep going like this forever, she's going to need me when she's done."

"River's been dancing over ten hours now," Book told him, "she doesn't seem inclined to stop anytime soon. You'll need to be rested and whole for her when she does though."

"I might miss..."

Book gripped Simon's shoulder's and drew him up. "I'll watch for you. You get yourself to the infirmary and give yourself something to help you sleep. If she stops, or I see anything that might be important to her or you, I'll give a yell to the Captain or Zoe to wake you up, all right? You're no good to River if you're so exausted you can't move or think."

"I..." Simon gave one last despairing look at River's dance, and then turned away and nodded, "Thank you, Shepard, I'll be in our stateroom." He climbed up the gangway and dissapeared through the hatch. If River had noticed his absence, she gave no sign.

And so she danced.

And danced.

And the red circles crossed and recrossed over each other until the individual patterns were no longer visisble.

And by midnight ship time even River's mad endurance could hold out no longer. Her feet flew out from under her and she fell on her bottom, like a six-year old child who'd just been pushed down by the playground bully. She blinked, looked at her bloody feet, looked around her at the Bosch-like painting of the cargo bay floor, and opened her mouth in a silent, wordless cry.

"River, it's all right," Book called out. He grabbed a medkit, blanket, and a water bottle from the floor, where Simon had readied them when he'd realized where this mad display was going lead. The blanket he laid across her suddenly shivering shoulders, and the water bottle he raised to her cracked lips as he kneeled beside her. "It's going to be all right, River."

"Simon, where's Simon?!" she demanded, pushing the water away.

"Back in your room, asleep," he answered calmly, "You danced for over fourteen hours, River. The poor boy got exausted just watching you."

"One hour of dancing burn approximately 800 calories," River said calmly, "a soldier bearing the weight of a standard loadout needs three thousand calories a day of nourishment." She blinked. "Why can't I feel my feet?"

"It's probably best if you don't right now. Why don't we get your feet cleaned off and bandaged, and I can take you to see Simon. Would you like that?"

"Bandages..." River whimpered.

Book smiled genially, and tried to imagine what sort of punishment God had in store for the people who ran that so-called Academy that River had been tricked into attending. Something creative he hoped, involving fish hooks. "Good bandages," he said. "Didn't Simon ever bandage your cuts, when you got hurt on the playground?"

"Hydrogen peroxide, a smear of dermal regenerator, and a clean dressing is sufficient for minor abrasions," River said, mimicking Simon's academic tones exactly. Her face fell, and she grabbed hold of Book's upper arms with a grip far stronger than a girl her age ought to have managed. "Simon always watched out for me. He's still watching out for me. Giving everything for me, leaving nothing for himself. I don't want to wake up sane, and find out there's nothing left of him."

The shepard disingaged her as gently as could manage, and began to clean and dress her feet. "Don't worry about Simon. We're all watching out for him here on Serenity."

"Malcom lives on Serenity, because he can never leave it," River stated.

Book rubbed her feet with a sterile cloth, removing the encrusted blood, and the few bits of skin that were left. "I expect that's true," he agreed.

"Jayne is the hero of the story he writes in his own mind."

Rub in some antiseptic, and thank the Lord it didn't sting like in the old days. "That's for certain."

"Wash laughs and plays the child, except when he guides his child Serenity."

"Err..." The dermal regenerator he slathered on in generous quantities.

"Zoe follows one out of love, the other out of loyalty. Not in the way you'd expect."

He placed pads on the bottoms of her feet, before readying the wrappings. "I couldn't say."

"Kaylee has an open heart, that Simon breaks. They need a translator."

"I can certainly agree with that." He started wrapping her right foot.

"Inara is not part of Mal's world, nor truely part of her own."

"I try not to pry." He wrapped up her left foot, putting a little bow in the knot.

River touched his hand. "You guide the people, and the sheep who look like people, on a better path than they can imagine. Because you walked the other path for far too long."

Book met her eyes, and nodded gravely. "That it is exactly right."

"I speak Truth."

He picked her up gently in his arms. "Come on, River, Simon is waiting for you."

She was asleep before he reached the top of the gangway.