Even tonight, surrounded by flock and friend, Shepherd Book could not speak those words without recalling his own acts of betrayal. Things that had taken him to dark places, then even further in, until everything in his self-created world had shattered. He'd never thought he would believe in anything again. Faith found him, not the other way around, that was a certainty. As they say, we walk by faith. Who would have thought it would bring him here, near full circle?
…do this to re-member me…
There was so much in the 'verse he didn't know about his God, but this was true: his Maker had a marvelous sense of humor. The type Malcolm Reynolds required in any he called friend. "All sorts of ironical" would be the response if Book were ever to share the reflection.
…after they supped, he took a cup, gave thanks and gave it to his friends…
The Alliance had sent out their subliminal hounds to find River, a most disappointingly crude method, given they had no idea when and where their prey would show. Now that an operative was involved that would not be twice true. Like a side-winding snake, he'd sidle up and strike. Of that much he could warn the Captain.
…do this to re-member me…
As each came forward, he was unsurprised, if slightly woeful, that Malcolm was not numbered amongst them. The sadness came not from a worry over the state of Malcolm's soul; he worried no more for the Captain's than for his own – that was in God's bounty. Instead it was that the Faithful, himself included, had fallen so short of embodying God's goodness in their Walk, leaving Malcolm believing only in the festering hell of humankind's own making, which pressed closer each day.
…you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes…
He would keep his own counsel that this operative would come for him – even with this knowledge Book could still be caught unawares. Every likelihood that he'd be tortured for intel, killed, and displayed like a head on a pike. Even Malcolm thought of him as a Shepherd, a man of God, somehow a category of person that the Alliance would give wide berth. It was one of the few shreds remaining of the man's idealism, and Book cherished it. If he told Malcolm what was to come, his sense of the right and honorable would demand Book leave with them. But he'd made i Haven /i his home, its people were his people, and he'd not leave his flock, at least not willingly. For this omission, Book prayed Mal would be forgiving.
…go in peace, walk the way.