It was cool. The breeze against her skin felt good, but there were goosebumps up and down her arms. She looked down. No wonder. She was naked, her feet in three inches of snow. Snow? But she wasn't freezing. Oh. A dream. She looked around, at the wild trees and the wilder bushes, all tight around her. Well, if it was a dream, then she should be wearing a thick fur coat. Ah, that was better. All snuggled up in warmth that wrapped around her like a man's arms.
A man's arms. A man. Which man? She screwed up her forehead, trying to think. Which man? Someone big. Tall. But not the captain. He was father. Someone with brown hair. But not the pilot. He was friend. Someone with blue eyes. But not the doctor. He was … yeuk. Brother. She grinned. Only left one. The mercenary.
She started to walk through the snow towards the light in the distance. It looked like a lamp hung on a metal pole, but as much as she ploughed forward it receded, and her feet were getting mired. She stood still, angry at herself. This was her dream. It should go the way she wanted it. No point in lucid dreaming if it didn't. She stamped her foot, and it splashed. She looked down. Snow turning to slush, with green shoots pushing through the water-logged earth, growing up, tangling around her legs.
Something moved. Something in the bushes. She listened. Sounded like something pushing through. Perhaps it was the mercenary. She bit her lip because she couldn't remember his name, only his callused hands on her skin, making her bones turn to liquid, her insides to mush. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Yes. Him. He stepped out of the undergrowth, his body naked, glistening, advancing on her, his arousal prominent. She smiled, held out her hands to him, welcoming him.
But he looked … wrong.
His skin was turning white, and his hair the same, a bulbous growth erupting on his forehead. He went down onto all fours, his hands and feet changing, the nails growing, merging into hoofs. His arms were lengthening, legs bending the wrong way, the growth elongating, hair covering his body …
A breeze carrying an odd, stinging scent made her close her eyes a moment, and when she looked again he wasn't there, his place taken by a horse. No, not a horse. Not with the horn on his head. A unicorn. She smiled, calling him, clicking her tongue to make him get closer. He moved through the sweet-smelling grass, forelegs lifting high, watching her, his horn lowered a little.
She knew she was safe. Unicorns never hurt virgins, the only humans able to tame such a … except she wasn't a virgin. Not any more. Not since that night. The night he took her, made her a woman, tore her into little pieces and made her bleed …
The unicorn reared up, razor hooves slashing at her, horn digging deep, thrusting through flesh and bone. She tried to fend him off, telling him this was just a dream, that this wasn't right, that he shouldn't be doing this to her …
The horn stabbed her to the quick, through her heart, stopping her breath as she fell, her red blood mingling with the small white flowers that grew on Hera, their scent pushing up through her as she stared at the sky with sightless eyes …
She woke, struggling against the blankets, against Jayne's heavy arm.
"Moonbrain?" He lifted his head. "You okay?"
"I …" She stared at him, half expecting to see a horn sprouting from his forehead. "I … hungry."
"Oh." He settled back, rolling onto his side. "Bring me back something, will ya?" He rubbed the scar across his naked chest. "Got that delivery tomorrow on 'Dymion," he added, his eyes already closing again.
"Yes. Yes." She stood up, grabbing her dress and pulling it over her head quickly, running out of the shuttle, away from the unicorn …
---
"S – I – K – I – K." Bethany looked up, expecting to be congratulated.
Freya shook her head instead. "No. Try again."
"But that's how it sounds."
"Yes, I'll agree with that. Except it isn't spelled that way."
"Why not?"
River stirred in her seat at the other end of the table. "It comes from Ancient Greece of Earth-that-was. Psykihkos, meaning of the soul. Also Psyche, a princess loved by Cupid. Of or relating to influencing by the human mind."
Bethany's brow furrowed. "Who's Cupid?"
"It doesn't matter," Freya said, her eyes resting on the young woman for a moment before coming back to Bethie. "We'll look it up later."
"But Uncle Jayne spells it like that," the little girl insisted.
"Perhaps he does, but –"
"Then why can't I?"
"Because it's not right."
"But –"
Freya could see it was going to be one of those days, with question after question. She sighed and held up her hand. "Let's try another word, shall we?"
Bethany nodded. "Shiny."
"Spell embarrassment."
The little girl's face fell as she looked back at her pad, sucking furiously on the end of her pencil. Even the presence of Fiddler under her feet wasn't enough.
Mal stepped down into the galley, something in his hand. "Having fun?" he asked.
"No," Bethie grumbled, and he had to smile.
"Not sure education is meant to be."
She looked up. "How do you spell psychic?"
"I don't. I tend to stick to mind-readin' genius."
Bethie turned to Freya hopefully.
"No. Come on. You're trying to spell embarrassment."
"It's okay, Bethie," Mal said, ruffling her hair. "Not being able to spell never did me any harm."
Freya was about to admonish him by pointing out that he could, in fact, spell, but his eyes asked her not to. "Then maybe you should be taking classes too," she said instead.
Mal shook his head. "I get by. Anyway, thought Bethie's IQ was off the charts? And wasn't River here correcting Simon's spelling when she was three?"
"I don't think it's hereditary." Freya glanced at the young woman, but she wasn't taking much notice. "Besides, Bethie's spelling is far ahead of her age."
"Then what's the problem?"
"We have to push the boundaries, Mal."
"Why? She ain't even four yet."
Freya glared at him, then exhaled heavily. "Fine. Shiny. Everybody just spell the way they want. What does it matter?"
"Hey, no need to get snippy," Mal said, pointing at her with the toy in his hand.
"Snippy? Snippy?" Freya bit back on the response that hurried to her lips. "I'm trying to do what I was asked here. Trying to give Bethie an education. Trying to -"
"And you're doing a grand job." He smiled at her, then glanced at Bethie. "Ain't that so, squirt?"
Bethie nodded enthusiastically. "Know lots of things."
He went down on his heels between them and looked into the little girl's face. "Bethie, you ever seen the word psychic written down?"
She thought for a moment. "No," she admitted.
"Anyone ever told you how it's spelled?"
"No."
He turned to his wife. "Frey, no-one would be able to work it out without seeing it first."
"So, what? You think I should make Bethany read a dictionary every day?"
"Nope. But do word lists."
"What?"
"It's how Mrs Gingrich taught us. Three types of word lists. Easy, medium and hard. Then she'd do a test, see if we'd learned them, and make us use them in a sentence." He laughed. "Some of the things people used to come out with, it was hilarious."
Freya stared at him. She sighed again. "Damn."
He grinned. "You know, it ain't a failure to ask. Most of us went to school, and a few actually got something out of it. Or research the Cortex." He stood up and put his free hand on her shoulder. "It's okay to use other folks ideas."
"Why are you so reasonable?"
"Hey, ain't it me usually asking you that?"
She smiled and looked at the toy he still had clutched in his other hand. "Lonely?" she asked.
He glanced down at the stuffed alligator. "Found this on the bridge. I think it's Ethan's."
"It is. Hank gave it to him." Freya took it, looking across to where the little boy was sitting in one of the easy chairs, his eight week old sister next to him. He was telling her a story. "Nowhere important, I hope?"
"Wedged up under the attitude controls."
"Ah. Sorry."
"Good job we didn't need to go to full burn. Could've torched my whole ship."
"Can you do that in space?"
"You know what I mean."
She smiled. "But no harm done this time."
"Nope. But I'm thinking we're gonna have to start laying some ground rules. Like no playing on the bridge."
"Hank won't like that."
"Hank'll just have to play somewhere else."
"Now you know he likes having the kids up there with him."
"Frey –"
Whatever Mal was about to say was interrupted by Jayne slouching noisily down the steps. "Hey, any food left?"
Mal glared at him. "Breakfast's long done."
"Figured." The big man looked at River. "How come you didn't wake me?"
"Sleepy. Dreaming." She shivered.
"Yeah, well, I know how it goes sometimes." He studied her. "You okay?"
She nodded but didn't look at him. "Shiny."
"Only I'm pretty sure you didn't come back after getting up to find something to snack on." He walked behind the counter and started going through the cupboards.
"Fell asleep out here," she said, staring at her fingernails. Suddenly she got up. "Have something to do."
"River?" Freya half stood.
"By myself." The young woman hurried out of the galley, going the other way so she didn't have to pass Jayne.
"What's going on?" Mal asked.
"Damned if I know," the mercenary said, staring after her.
"Well, you're gonna have to wait to ask her. You need to get tooled up. We're landing on Endymion in five, and I wanna be gone for the meet with Garber in ten."
"But I ain't had no –"
"Ten minutes, Jayne."
"Ruttin' hell." He grabbed a pack of protein crackers and strode back towards the shuttle, knowing River wasn't going to be there.
Bethie looked at Freya, who shook her head slightly. Whatever was going on was none of their business. At least, not yet.
---
Serenity landed safely and the goods were handed over without incident, although there was something of a delay when Garber insisted Mal, Zoe and Jayne stayed for a round of drinks or six, which meant they didn't get back to the Firefly until well after dark.
Mal closed the cargo bay doors, his head slightly muzzy. He glanced up at the sound of a footfall on the catwalk.
"We okay?" Hank asked.
"Yeah. No problem."
"Good."
"You waited up for us?" Mal shook his head. "No, wait. Let me rephrase that. You waited up for Zoe?"
Hank smiled. "Kinda. But everyone else is in bed. Doubt Frey's asleep though."
"Prob'ly not," Mal agreed.
"Not sure she's gonna be too pleased at you rolling in smelling of booze." Hank waved his hand in front of his face. "And cheap cigars."
Mal sniffed his coat. "Can't smell a thing."
"Well, just don't say I didn't warn you."
Zoe walked up the stairs towards her fiancé. "Any food left?"
"Of course. I made sure Kaylee put enough aside." He put his arm around her as she reached him. "'Less Jayne decides to eat it all."
"Not hungry," the big man said, stretching hugely.
"You?" Hank stared at him. "Tianna, is the 'verse ending?"
"Just don't feel like food. Thought I might work out for a while, get the kinks out."
Mal slapped him on the back. "Well, if'n you do, turn out the lights when you've finished."
Hank wouldn't leave it. "I don't know, Mal. Maybe he oughtta see the doc. Off his feed like this."
"Dear, it's been a long day," Zoe said quietly, watching her captain climb the stairs towards them. "I don't feel like cleaning up entrails right now."
"Me neither," Mal said, passing them and heading towards his bunk and his wife. "But you can have all the food, and I'll see you in the morning."
"Night, sir."
Mal waved over his shoulder and disappeared.
"You really hungry?" Hank asked, pulling her closer.
"Yes."
"Well, maybe we could take it to our bunk. You know. Play a little."
"Last time you did that I was cleaning crumbs out of the sheets for days."
"I'll be good."
"Well –"
"Please?" He put on the look his son used when he wanted something.
"We'll see."
"Good enough." He pulled her through the doorway. "Night, Jayne."
The big man didn't answer, just watched them leave. He sighed heavily and glanced down at his weights. Truth was, he didn't feel like working out. What with River not coming back to bed, and waking up alone, he felt … antsy. Like something was off. He'd figured it was the job, but since that had gone well, there had to be another reason. Maybe he just needed some good time with River. He stroked his goatee. Yeah, just some time together. He grinned, happier, and bounded up the stairs and tried to open the door.
"What the …"
He put his considerable weight behind it. Nothing.
"River, the door's locked," he called. "You wanna let me in?"
Still nothing.
"Honey? You pissed I'm late back? Weren't my fault. The Cap decided to let Garber buy the drinks, and you know what that shrimp's like once he gets started." Jayne tried the door again, just in case it was stuck, but it still didn't move. "River."
There was no sound from inside the shuttle, no movement, no apologetic face smiling at him through the window.
His brow furrowed. Maybe she'd made a mistake. Locked it without thinking. He input the code to override the lock, but the door didn't open. He glanced down at the com by the bay doors, wondering if he should call her. Unless she was asleep already. And if she was pissed at him, it wouldn't help being woken up. 'Cept maybe she was hurt. In pain. But she'd tell him, let him know somehow. He shook his head slowly. Best to wait. Wait 'til morning. He headed slowly down the stairs again, unease eating at him.
…
The unicorn was stalking her. She could hear his hooves in the undergrowth, even though the snow made all other sounds dead in her ears. His soft voice called out to her, teasing, cajoling, trying to tempt her to come out of hiding so he could seduce her, pierce her with his horn, make her bleed …