There was a time when her guns squirted water and her robot taught phonics. Now the pistols strapped to her thighs had killed more men than she cared to remember. Once, many moons ago, the twin shooters had names. Names crafted by a foolish young girl hoping to brand herself her own weapon. Hoping to gain someone's attention. What a ridiculous notion, really. Weapons don't make you tough. Only loss can do that.
A faint scratching noise to her left caught her attention. Just a rat. Which, knowing this filthy quadrant as well as she did, was actually a good sign. If the rats were here, then the C.A.T.S. weren't and she was in no mood to tangle with security droid right now.
She rose from the crouched position she had held for the last three hours. Her watch was finally over and it was her turn to rest. Lord knows she needed it. Maybe the Lord was the only who knew though. She'd never admit any weakness, even exhaustion, to her team.
Stepping soundlessly through the rubble of the bombed out hotel, she nudged Doll firmly on his shoulder.
He blinked once in recognition and nodded slightly in acknowledgement. Then he was gone. That was Doll. Not much a talker, that one. The entire team knew that Doll had a natural talent for stealth and an unnatural skill with a blade. But since he rarely spoke, that was all they knew of their comrade. Hell, no one even knew why he was called Doll. Not that it mattered. Doll was a warrior and he was on her side. That's all that mattered. And in the privacy of her own mind, she admitted that Doll reminded her of "him."
She pulled her field blanket from her pack and threw it over her. Despite the scorching heat of the mid-day desert sun, it was all the privacy she'd ever get and she had to lose the bra, even for a bit. You'd think they'd have developed a comfortable bra for female soldiers by now, she thought. It was the 25rd century after all. Space travel? Yup, nailed it. Robots? Fucking everywhere. A decent bra? Not so much. Figures.
Settled into as much comfort as she would find, she allowed her mind to travel to the one place that would bring the blessed sleep her body demanded.
Lush tropical greens parted slightly to form a gentle jungle path. Warm hands warmed her shoulder, guiding her from behind. Her heart was racing and the sound of a nearby torrent crashed in her ears.
"This place is just for you, River" came the husky whisper. "We'll be safe here. I promise."
The fronds gave way to reveal the most amazing sight ever seen. Waterfalls were things of legend, ideals of fantasy. Fresh water didn't stream off cliffs into crystal pools anywhere except in history books. And yet here it was. A picture-book waterfall. A picture perfect scene.
"Safe?" The question sounded soft and strange coming from her own lips.
She felt the hands gently spin her. Broad, rough hands slid to frame her face. Lips brushed lightly against hers.
"I promise," the voice reassured.
In that moment, she believed him. In that moment, she allowed herself to cry in relief.
Her sleeping brain played the fantasy on repeat. The dream was so familiar to her that it was both a memory and a hope. It was both her past and her future.
As her body became aware of the cooler air temp and noise of her teammates quietly organizing their packs, it was the hope she held onto longest. The hope that she'd find that sacred space, the hope those hands were real. Jayne.
She opened her eyes. The scent of fresh water and sense in security scattered into the shadows. They always did.