There were so many memories, pressing together, emotions that weren't hers, thoughts that weren't hers. River wanted to remember her own memories, and so she began collecting things. Small things, normally. Just significant enough that she could look at one and remember.

A doll.

River had nothing of the time before. At the Academy, they had taken everything away from her-every letter, every memento.

But one day, when River was curled up in her bed, the pain in the stomach and the pain in her head equal, Simon had opened the door with a smile.

"I have something for you, mei mei," Simon said. He handed her a doll, smiling his shy smile.

River cocked her head. "Do I know this?"

Simon's eyes were sad. "River, it's from before. You left this, when you went to the Academy. "

River remembered then. She had hated this doll. That was why she had left it. But Simon's eyes were sad, and so River smiled and whispered, "thank you."

A monitoring chip.

When Simon settled River down in the chair, she was tempted to struggle-she hated the chair. She hated the med bay in general. But Simon was angry, and that was something new, something she couldn't quite figure out . . .

Simon pulled it out. A little piece of electronics, hiding in the skin of her neck.

River stared at it in horrified fascination. Simon, however, chucked it onto the counter, half-growling, half-swearing under his breath-and Simon never swore.

River realized then where the anger came from, and picked up the chip while Simon was busy cleaning his tools. She never wanted to remember the Academy-there was nothing good to remember from there. She didn't keep the chip to remind her of the Academy, just to remind her of the expression on Simon's face.

A star.

River was in love with the stars. She could vaguely remember that when she was a child, all she wanted to do was to visit them. Lying in the grass with Simon, she'd point out stars, naming them all, and listen to Simon's admiring praise for her prodigious memory.

A good memory wasn't enough to remember all the stars in the 'verse. It was enough to keep her thirsting for more.

She was supposed to be scared. Words that meant fear-reavers, the Alliance-were filling the air, and she could feel the tension in Simon. But it all faded away as she clung to Serenity's skin, the only thing between her and space being a flimsy suit . . .

River whispered to the sky, "tai piao liang." Her words weren't enough to do it justice.

Simon was afraid. So River was brave for both of them. And she loved it.

Later, after the terror was gone, the stars were forgotten, for there were worlds to visit.

On one planet, Simon slipped away from Serenity without River knowing. She was terrified. She knew there was a list as long as her leg of reasons for Simon to leave and never come back. What kind of intelligent young man wanted to be on the run with his crazy sister?

But then he returned, a globe with a pulsing light inside-it's called a star globe-and River giggled in delight and hugged her brother.

A triceratops.

River never felt completely comfortable around Wash. He was too happy, and yet too sad. He was a paradox. People seemed to think the Captain was the mysterious one, but River understood him. It was Wash she didn't get.

Their pilot joked around, but had a deep undercurrent of seriousness that River couldn't reconcile with the Hawaiian t-shirts and the plastic dinosaurs. So mostly, River avoided him.

But Wash loved Serenity. And River did too.

"River, what are you doing up so late?" Wash grinned. "Your brother know you're awake?"

River silently shook her head, moving towards the other chair and settling down in it, curling up like a cat.

"You know, I bet you would make a good pilot."

Wash wasn't looking at her anymore, so River had to respond. "Why?"

"Well, you're a genius, right? And only us geniuses can fly this beauty." Wash winked at her, and River giggled.

"Plus, you feel her, don't you."

It wasn't a question, and River didn't even have to nod. Wash fiddled with the dials. "Who do you love more, Zoe or Serenity?" River questioned.

Wash laughed. "Oh, you want to get me in trouble, don't you?" He paused, and then leaned in River's direction, cupping a hand around his mouth, and speaking in a carrying whisper: "don't tell Serenity, but Zoe's my favorite."

River patted the dash. "Don't worry. She'll understand."

Wash smiled, and turned back to face the front. "How 'bout every time you can't sleep, and I'm up here, we'll have a lesson, hao ma?"

"Okay." River walked over to Wash's side and picked up the plastic triceratops.

"You can have him," Wash offered, "he's not getting along with the others."

"It's the horns, they make him cranky," River explained, and Wash nodded solemnly.

"I think he's embarrassed of them."

And River understood Wash a little more.

A syringe.

River had a lot of bad days. Only her bad days weren't just bad, they were terrible.

Because it meant the memories-the painful ones-swarming her mind, like a million bees from earth-that-was. It meant throwing up any food Simon tried to get her to eat. It meant screaming and crying, and not being able to stop.

River hated bad days.

"No, you can't, you can't pull on my strings to make me dance, because they don't dance, they don't dance and I won't either."

"Shh, River, no one will make you dance, all right? Just calm down. Please, River." Simon's hand was reaching out, touching her shoulder, and River let out a small shriek, throwing herself away from her brother.

"No, no, no!" she wailed. "You can't." River saw her brother's eyes flick over to the syringe lying on his med kit. Her brother was one of the best doctors in the 'verse. He could fill the syringe and get her sedated in seconds. And he would. River knew from experience, that her own hysteria had gone too far, that she was unstable. It would be easier on Simon to put her to sleep.

River kept her eyes closed as she waited for the prick.

It never came. River opened her eyes. Simon had pushed the syringe away, and was scooting closer.

"You remember that song Mom used to sing?" he asked softly.

River shook her head, forgetting the other memories of blood and war that were fighting for her attention.

Simon began to hum, and River listened until she fell asleep.

He left the syringe by accident. And River kept it.

A flower.

It was a rough place. Backwater place, backwater people. But when River heard the music, suddenly it all made sense. They were here, and it was now, and she could dance. She twirled, she smiled, she glowed.

River could feel everyone's happiness, and it made her happy too.

A spike of pain and fear disrupted the happiness, and River swayed, her balance lost. Simon. She needed Simon, he would make it better. River fought her way through the dancing figures, catching a hold of a pole covered in flowers. One of them came away, and River stared at it before tucking it into her waistband.

She found Simon, and Simon was afraid.

But River wasn't. How could she be? She had danced. And when she could dance, that meant everything would be okay.

River made sure the flower was never crushed. It dried, but still, she kept it. It was proof that she could dance instead of kill.

A firing pin.

One. Two. Three. River kept her eyes tightly shut. That way she wouldn't see their faces, because if she saw their faces, she would never forget them. River never forgot anything.

She never forgot the look on Kaylee's face.

The horror. The fear. River never wanted her to look like that again. But it was too late to take it back.

River didn't want to remember losing a friend.

But she had to remember why. So she wouldn't lose it again. She had been forced to use the skills from before. Never again, if she could help it.

She took apart the gun, stealing the firing pin. The gun wouldn't kill any more.

A knight.

They always played chess. They always have, always will. River knew that for certain, because it's their game. Theirs. No one else's.

Shepherd Book carefully set down the chess board. "What do you say, River? Want to play?"

River regarded him calmly-he was just trying to be nice, but still-she stood, and said firmly, "no."

She knew she could beat Shepherd Book; she could beat anybody. Except for Simon.

When they played, it was a balance of strategy and desperate moves. River didn't try to see Simon's thoughts, because that would be cheating. Instead, she just played.

River favored the knights.

Simon favored the queen.

When they were little, Simon would let her win, but now, now they're equal. And the game drags on until one of them makes a mistake.

River took one of the knights after winning one game.

Simon never said anything, just hunted down a new one on the next planet.

Next time, he won.

A bullet.

River can see Zoe clearly. A woman marked by war, softened by Wash; always a soldier, but longing to be more.

Zoe was never comfortable around River. She could feel it, the caution, the carefulness. River could be a threat, so Zoe never let her guard down.

Every now and then, though, River could feel a different emotion coming off of Zoe. A sort of longing, that spoke of comfort and if River could put a name on it, it might lean towards the word mother.

After Jubal Early had come and gone, River could feel Zoe's anxiety and caution was heightened.

"River, could I talk to you?"

"You want me to fight."

Zoe paused. "I want you to have control."

"Never control."

"You can." Zoe handed her the gun, and pointed to the target. River shot it, eyes closed.

"I don't want to."

"It's safer if you look." Zoe corrected her grip. "Try."

River was careful, and Zoe smiled, a glimmer of pride in it. "Good, River."

River took one of the bullets, rolling it between her fingers.

A hairbrush.

Inara had always been kind to River. Even when she was hurting herself.

There was so much pain in the companion. River wanted to help, but how could she? Inara was torn between two worlds, and didn't know how to split the difference.

So River just relaxed in the companion's aura, her outward calmness, and tried to ignore the turmoil within.

But River could hear her thoughts, and knew that Inara would have to leave. She was going to.

"River, are you all right?" Inara looked up from her packing, gracefully rising.

"My hair," River mumbled.

Her smile was beautiful, but hollow. "Come here."

The brush was skilled, but the hand was trembling.

"Why do you go?"

Inara only paused for a second. "Because I must."

River accepted the explanation. And the brush.

A sea shell.

Inara was about to leave. Book had mentioned departing as well. River's family was falling apart, and she could see the rest of them falling too.

Kaylee didn't smile as much. Mal became angry. Zoe and Wash began to keep to themselves. Jayne . . . well, Jayne remained the same.

River hated it. All she could do was cling to Simon. But there was one good day. The job had gone well, the planet had a beach, and the crew was relaxing. Even River and Simon got to go off-ship.

River danced in the waves.

Kaylee built a sandcastle.

Simon raced River down the beach.

Jayne got sunburn.

Book went swimming.

Zoe and Wash . . . disappeared together.

Inara relaxed.

Mal actually smiled.

"Mei mei, look. Put it to your ear."

River listened, and heard the universe in the shell. "It's peace."

Simon kissed her on the forehead. But as her brother walked over to admire Kaylee's sandcastle, River's smile dropped away. The darkness was coming, and not even a beautiful day would stop it.

But she could still keep the sea shell.

A/N: I've always wondered why I've never written a Firefly fanfic. Firefly is my top favorite TV show of all time. THE top. And I mean THE TOP.

I guess I've never written fanfic because I didn't think anything I wrote would be good enough. But anyway, I did this piece. Just because. River 3

mei mei: little sister

tai piao liang: very beautiful

hao ma?: good/yes?