A/N: Hope you're all having a fabulous Christmas :) This story's my little present to you. It takes place post-BDM (the first of my stories that does, actually), but Wash and Book is still in it.

Confusing?

It's meant to be.

The Night Before

Jayne was pretty sure Stitch Hessian was dead.

He knew this because he was the one who'd killed him. He'd smashed his head in against a rock back in Canton and washed his blood off his hands, and he hadn't ever regretted it. And yet, now as he stepped into Serenity's galley looking for a snack, he found that ruttin', good-for-nothin' low-life of a scumbag sitting on the kitchen counter, looking very much alive and peering at him with his one good eye.

"There you are," he snarled. "You took your sweet time. Haven't got the whole night, gorram it!"

Jayne just looked at him, dumbfounded, for a few seconds and for some reason he felt more annoyed than afraid upon seeing his deceased ex-partner. By God, couldn't people even stay dead these days?

"What the hell?" he eventually exclaimed.

Stitch looked fairly relaxed, maybe even a little bored. "I'm here with a warning," he said. "And I dunno why the hell I'm helpin' ya – seeing as you killed me – so don't even ask!"

"So you are dead?" Jayne pried.

"Yes, you idjit! You can't just step unto a ship in the middle of space if you're alive and kickin'!"

"Figures," Jayne agreed. "So… that mean I can't kill you again?"

Stitch glared impatiently at him. "You want this warning or not?"

"Not," Jayne said and continued on his way towards the cupboards.

"Well, you don't got no choice," Stitch said, jumping down from the counter and blocking his way. "So listen up, you qingwa cao de liumang. Tonight you'll be visited by three spirits."

Jayne scowled at him, his irritation growing by the second. "What's this? You scroogin' me?"

Stitch cocked an eyebrow. "Well, well, the man knows his Dickens."

"Chickens."

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure the man's name was Chickens."

A moment of silence fell between them as Stitch kept his eyes on him, disbelievingly, before he finally spoke. "No, it's not!"

Jayne shrugged. "Whatever."

"Well, anyways," Stitch continued, "three spirits will come, listen to them, heed their warning, yadi-yadi-ya. I've done my part – goodbye and see you in hell!"

And by that he disappeared into thin air.

"Yeah, goodbye," Jayne muttered. "Ain't like you were real, anyhow. Had a little too much to drink last night, I'm guessin'."

He opened the cupboards in his continued search for food, but just then the grandfather clock in the corner chimed.

He frowned. Weird… Since when did they have a grandfather clock?

Then he heard someone giggling and he cursed under his breath, because he knew who it was and he was not in the mood for her right now.

As if he ever were…

He spun around to face her, but to his surprise she wasn't there. His eyes scanned the room. "Where you hidin', you freak?" he asked.

"No freak here," she replied. But he still couldn't see her.

"Come on out!"

"I am out. I'm right here. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"Well, you sound like River!"

She giggled again. "Interesting."

"What is?" he spat.

"That you had me take her shape."

"Had you take…? What the hell you talkin' about? Show yourself, girl! Where you at?"

"I said, I'm here."

He cursed again. "You're on the PA, I'm sure, messin' with me. I'm gonna get you, you hear?"

Still mumbling he stomped out of the galley, headed for the bridge, but just as he stepped out into the hallway he stopped dead in his tracks.

Because what he found on the other side of the hatch, was the cargo bay.

And it wasn't supposed to be there.

And it wasn't even the right cargo bay.

"This is not Serenity," the voice of River/The Ghost of Christmas Past said, as if Jayne couldn't see that for himself. This cargo bay was darker, and smellier, and colder – in more ways than one.

"You know this ship," the voice continued. "You used to live on it. And these men used to be your crewmates."

He saw the men now; sitting in groups around the room, playing cards and throwing dices and drinking and yelling and laughing loudly. And he did know them. This was Marco's ship, and here were Rufus and Buster and Ping and all those others sons of bitches he'd hoped to never lay eyes on again.

"They can't see you," River said (he was pretty sure it was River, wherever that girl was hiding). "This is only a memory and they are nothing but shadows."

"Yeah," he snarled. "Mirrors and smoke… and where are you?" He had no idea how she'd pulled off this trick, but she was surely going to pay for it.

"Where are you?" her voice calmly replied.

"I'm right here," he said, gritting his teeth.

"I mean, where are you in this memory?"

"Dunno," he muttered. "As far away from these people as I could possibly get, I'm guessin'."

"Spending Christmas alone," she stated. "You made a habit of it. Because you still do."

He was getting tired of this. He turned around to find that moonbrain once and for all and give her a piece of his…

A cold realization suddenly hit him. "You're inside my head, aren't you?" he yelled.

She laughed, and her laughter echoed throughout the room. "Of course I am, stupid. Why else would I know all this?"

"Well, get out of it! Right now!" He frantically spun around, waving his arms around as if that would help. "Leave me alone, you freak! Go away!" –

And suddenly he was back in the galley and all was quiet. He was breathing hard, as if he'd been running, but other than that it seemed like nothing at all had happened. He was still on his way to open the cupboard.

"Well," he muttered. "Thank you."

And then the clock chimed again.

"Gorramit!" he exclaimed. "When did that thing get onboard?"

"Well, I think it looks shiny in here, don't you?" someone said.

Jayne froze. He could have recognized that voice anywhere. But it was impossible… It couldn't be…

He turned around.

"Wash?"

It was Wash, alright. Sitting on the kitchen table, grinning and dressed in his most brightly colored shirt. As if he had never died. As if the Reavers had never gotten to him.

"Come in and know me better, man," he smiled. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Present."

Jayne stared. "But… you're dead."

"Duh-uh, ghost!" Wash exclaimed, waving his hands around. "Hasn't anyone ever explained the concept to you?"

Jayne grunted and peered at the pilot, or ex-pilot or whatever you called a dead pilot, still a little suspicious. "Zoë's havin' your baby," he said.

For a moment Wash's bright grin faltered a little. "I know," he said. "And it's killing me that I won't be around for it. Well, it can't kill me since I'm already dead, but… You know what I mean." He shook the sadness away from his features. "Anyway, tonight's not about me, it's about you. And I've got things to show you."

"Like what?" Jayne asked, then coughed. There was something stuck in his chest.

"Well, touch my robe," Wash said. "Uh, shirt… Or you can just follow me. Come on."

He led the way out into the hallway, and this time it really was the hallway waiting on the other side of the door. Jayne opened his mouth to ask more questions, but before he could, Wash abruptly stopped, so sudden that Jayne almost walked right into him.

If that was even possible, of course; bumping into a ghost. Jayne wasn't sure.

"Listen," Wash whispered, half turned towards him and with his finger to his lips. "Do you hear?"

"Hear what?"

But just then he heard them; the voices. Mumbling at first, but gradually growing louder. And he looked around to find out where they came from, but he saw nobody.

"There've been times when I've wanted to kill him," the first voice said. "More'n I can count."

Jayne arched an eyebrow as he recognized the voice as the captain's.

"Me too," another voice replied.

Zoë.

Jayne gazed at Wash. "What's this? What are they talkin' 'bout? Me?" He narrowed his eyes. "This supposed to be comfortin' or sumthin'? 'Cause they're talkin' 'bout killing me, gorramit!"

"Sssh," Wash shushed.

"Could you do it?" Mal's voice asked next.

"No," Zoë replied.

"Me neither."

There was a short moment of silence before Mal spoke again, "Why is that, you think?"

"Beats me," Zoë replied.

After that it was quiet. Jayne sent another glare in Wash's direction. "This don't make no sense," he snarled. "What was that all about?"

Wash shrugged. "That's for you to know."

He started walking again and, cursing, Jayne followed him around the corner and into the cargo bay. This time it was Serenity's, but there was still something utterly wrong about it. Shocked and surprised, Jayne followed the banister down the catwalk and stared at something he had not expected to find.

"I'm pretty sure this ain't the way the story's supposed to go," he said.