Disclaimer: The vast majority of the characters in this story are the creation of Joss Whedon and/or Tim Minear, as is the general setting. I'm really just playing around in their sandbox, and certainly don't seek financial gain from their effort. Amber and Han are my inventions, but the sort of people they are has also been suggested by the "Firefly" setting.

In as much as this story has a place in the timeline of the series, any time post Ariel and before Inara actually takes off should do the trick, but it might as well be taken as OC. It's more of a writing exercise than anything else. This being a fanfic, I assume that anyone reading it is familiar enough with canon characters to not need any serious descriptions or introductions.

Finally, the tiny inclusions of non-English I lifted from fireflyfans dot net-- if it's transliterated improperly, I'm sorry, and I pass the blame.

TIME AND PLACE

Chapter 1

The new bible was... acceptable. At this point in his life, Book knew better than to get attached to possessions, but the old one had been a gift. One of the few things he still had from before taking orders. He looked at the shelf where the various parts of his old bible lay in a small box. Possibly repairable, if opportunity presented itself.

He put the new bible aside for a moment, and set about getting dressed. The now-familiar sounds of ship's morning found their way through the bulkheads, and he smiled. Jayne and Simon were having yet another set-to, although he'd found Jayne somewhat subdued around the Doctor of late. Growing self-awareness? He didn't conduct himself much differently in other ways, though. No, it seemed likely that young Dr. Tam had something to hold over Jayne. Interesting. The boy was full of surprises.

A knock came at his door. He finished buttoning his jacket, and drew the screen aside. Kaylee smiled in at him. "Hiya, Shep! Mal said to make sure everyone got done breakfast in good time, since we're settin' down in about an hour."

"Good morning, Kaylee. Is the Captain expecting any trouble?"

"Oh, no," she replied, as she started walking along the corridor, forward to the kitchen. "Wash just got the weather report for Ebenezer port, and it's lookin' like the ride down could be excitin'. Mal wants to keep the mess clean."

"I'm sure he does," Book said at her back. Knowing her, he thought, she meant the joke. He took a step forward, then hesitated, patting his jacket pockets. Even after all these years, the habit could still slip. Shaking his head, he stepped back and collected the bible. Perhaps it was more than just a possession, after all. Hadn't he had that very argument with River about the old one?

"You can say that," Jayne said, and a small cloud of a substance not entirely dissimilar to scrambled eggs fell to the table in front of him. "But it don't make him any less dead."

"That's not my point." Simon Tam replied, looking with some dismay at the toast on his plate. He'd underestimated Jayne's range. "It's looking at the wider implications of the action."

"It's showin' off. Shoulda got some help."

Book came into the kitchen, and looked around the table, "What's that?"

"It seems the Doctor has drawn Jayne into a philosophical debate," Inara said. Her toast was wisely well off Jayne's sight-line. "Something about the good of the many, wasn't it?"

"Jayne seems to think," Simon said, abandoning his breakfast, "that the story of Horatio at the bridge is an example of Earth-that-was foolishness."

"I don't know," said Book, taking a seat. "Most religions I know suggest considering others before oneself."

Mal came in behind Book. As he lifted the pot-lid off the 'eggs', he said, "In my opinion, man's been dead long enough it don't much make a difference about the details. How about not getting Jayne stirred up in the mornin', Doc? You know it afflicts my digestion some." He ladled some of the muck onto his plate, sliding in beside Book.

Book knew he shouldn't needle the Captain, but it seemed safe enough this time. "You don't subscribe to notion of the right man in the right place, Captain Reynolds?"

Mal put a spoonful of eggish in his mouth as he considered Book. Swallowing, he said, "Rev, all my time in the war, the only time I ever saw one man in the right place, it was the right place to catch a bullet. Now, everyone eat up. We need to lock things down before hittin' atmo or we'll be a week diggin' it out of the lights.

The ride to the surface was as attention-grabbing as everyone had been told it would be. Reynolds was standing in the cargo bay, waiting to give final instructions before throwing open the doors. Everyone was in earshot now, except Inara, who had retired to her shuttle immediately after breakfast. She had made it clear that Ebenezer wasn't a moon on which she'd find any suitable employment, and she was going to spend her time booking appointments.

"OK, Wash tells me that it will be at least eight hours before this mess blows over-- that's overnight, since it's late afternoon, local. Zoe, Wash, Jayne, we've got a cargo to shift, and if that ain't done in an hour we might as well not bother. Doc, I'd take it as a kindness if you and your sister were out from underfoot for that hour-- in your room or in the town, it makes no never to me. Book, same thing. OK, let's get cooking." He punched the button to open the big doors.

Ebenezer was a study in grey and yellow. Although the winds here on the surface were less dramatic than aloft, there was fine grit blowing around the edges of the port structures, and obscuring the sky. Book looked out at the uninspiring scene. "There's a small chapel about a half-hour's walk from here I think I'll visit. Simon, do you think you and River might like to come along?"

"Thank you, no. River is having... a bad day. We'll just stay here."

Jayne stumped toward them, peering over the top of a pile of boxes. There was some strain evident in his arms. "Dint you hear the Capin," he grunted. "Clear 'way!"

Simon withdrew towards the guest rooms. Book turned, and walked down the ramp. He passed a knot of dusty, surly men that he took for the consignees of the current shipment. Two of them stood in the traces of an oversized rickshaw. It seemed that, like so many places on the fringe, human power was the most readily available means of moving loads here. Given how far humanity had come from this point, it pained him greatly that there were some who lived the simple life by someone else's choice.

Ebenezer was developed enough that the port was more than the flattest place close to town, though. A small terminal implied a regular transport, and that implied some resource the Alliance considered important. He hoped Mal was aware of it-- the terminal looked fairly new, so any Alliance interest was probably a fresh development.

There were a couple of bike-type rickshaws near the door of the terminal, but no sign of drivers. That was fine. He wouldn't want anyone pulling extra dust into their lungs on his account, and in any event, he was in no real hurry.

Simon was looking through his bag with some alarm. River had started the day agitated, and had become progressively worse. There was a sedative that she'd never had before, because he worried about the side effects, but she was getting frantic. Worst, the sort of nonsense she usually came out with in this state had been replaced by animalistic snarling. Occasionally a word or two came through clear, but there was little comfort in it.

"ALL PAY! ALL HATE!" River pounded her fist against the outer wall of their berth, hard enough to break the skin, and that was the decision for Simon. He dropped the vial of somnambutol into the air-injector. No good messing around with a needle.

"River...," he said, as gently as he could and still be heard above her racket. He held the injector in his right hand, and made an broad gesture with his left to try and hold her attention. He inched toward her. "Shh, mei-mei...."

"No! They're practically here! Stay awake! Stay away!" She began to run across the room, stepping across the bed, kicking books. He lunged for her, grabbing her left arm as she fled. She turned in an instant, returning grab for grab, and sunk her teeth into the meat of his forearm. For an instant he went tense at the pain, then pressed the injector against her ribs, pulling the trigger even as it landed.

In the few seconds before the drug took effect, River held onto his arm. She pulled her mouth off his arm, and looked up at him. "Wrong place. Wrong... time...."